TITLE: Everything Old is New Again (1/2)
AUTHOR: Susanna Starz
EMAIL: SusannaStarz@hotmail.com
ARCHIVE: Sure! Just let me know.
RATING: PG-13 
CATEGORY: SRA
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully Romance
SPOILERS: set during Season 6, some mild spoilers for
 Triangle and before
SUMMARY: What happens when you have a past you can't 
remember and a future you can't forget?

DISCLAIMER: They're not mine...just borrowing them for
 a little while and I promise to return them more or 
less unharmed. 

*

"Hey," Scully said as she made her way through the 
bullpen towards Mulder. He glanced up from the game of 
solitaire he was so studiously engaged in on the 
computer and shot her a quirky half smile. 

"What are you so chipper about?" 

"There was a bit of excitement upstairs," she said, 
raising her eyebrows and waiting for him to take the 
bait. 

"Please tell me Kersh had a massive coronary." 

"Not that exciting," she sighed as she dropped into 
her own chair and switched on her computer. "Some 
lunatic wandered off from the tour and started ranting 
about his grand plan for world domination. Took five 
of us to subdue him." She held out her forearm to 
display a softball-size bruise. 

Mulder let out a breath of air and leaned back in his 
chair, looking impressed. "And in the chaos, Deputy 
Director Kersh was mortally wounded?" 

"Sorry," she shrugged sympathetically. 

"Damn." 

"So what have you been doing this morning? Besides
 playing cards?" 

Mulder slowly tilted his computer monitor away from 
her. 

"Mulder." 

He grinned sheepishly. "Just the cards." 

"What's that window open behind the cards?" 

"Nothing. Just a pop up." 

"That looks suspiciously like Frohike's hairline." She 
crossed her arms and looked accusingly at him. "Why 
are you communicating with the gunmen via webcam?" 

She took little notice of Mulder's cringe as she stood
 up and walked towards his computer for a better look.

"Mulder, is that--are they in the X Files office?" 

"Above it, actually," he sighed. "In the heating 
ducts." 

"With a webcam." 

He shrugged again, attempting to look innocent.

Scully let out a little hiss of annoyance. "Spying on
 Spender and Fowley, or just hoping that Fowley finds 
some way to take her shirt off while she's down 
there?" 

Mulder faked a wounded expression. "Since they've 
managed to block my access to their email accounts, 
I've had to resort to desperate measures in order to 
keep apprised of new cases." 

"You're kidding." 

"Does this look like the face of a man who jests?" 

She cocked her head and stared at him for a moment 
without responding. 

"Point taken," he grumbled, minimizing the window. 

"Mulder. Mulder." Langly's tinny voice filtered 
through the speakers. 

Mulder jumped as though he'd been shot, earning 
suspicious stares from several agents who were hard at 
work around him. He turned down the volume and leaned 
in close to the computer screen. 

"There's something funky going on down here." 

"What?" he hissed. 

"Is he talking to his computer?" A secretary, pushing 
the mail cart, paused by Scully's desk to regard 
Mulder with a worried frown.

"Yes," Scully said flatly, reaching for her mail. 

The woman stared at her for a moment before shuddering 
and moving on. 

"There's some sort of gas in the ducts," Langly said. 
Colorless, odorless, I wouldn't even have noticed it 
had the machines not jumped off the charts." 

Mulder frowned and leaned back towards Scully's desk. 
"Could that guy have released something in the 
building?" 

Her forehead creased as she considered this. "He could 
have been anywhere from the time that he disappeared 
from the tour and found himself in front of Skinner's 
office." 

The good humor had disappeared from Mulder's face. He
turned away and spoke into the tiny speaker the Gunmen 
had installed on his computer. "Can you guys find the 
source?"

"Negative," Frohike said. "We're getting out of here." 

Scully chewed the inside of her lip before picking up 
the phone and dialing. "Sir, it's Agent Scully. I was 
considering that man from this morning, and I think 
it's possible he may have left something in the 
building before we found him...No Sir, just a 
hunch...All right. Thank you." She hung up and turned 
to face him. "They're going to conduct a thorough 
search."

"If this stuff is in the heating ducts..." Mulder's 
voice trailed off as he studied the ceiling. 

"Mulder, no."

"There's an access panel in the parking garage." 

"The last thing you're supposed to do is head 
*towards* the fumes." 

The fire alarm suddenly began to toll, interrupting 
Mulder as he was about to respond. The lights dimmed 
and the emergency flashers began to pulsate. 

"Guess they found something," Mulder said grimly. 

*

More than eight hours later, Scully's hand trembled 
with exhaustion as she unlocked her apartment door. 
She, Mulder and every other agent present in the 
building had been forced to undergo a medical 
examination after a smoking canister had been found in 
the second floor heating duct. 

After she was given a clean bill of health by the 
triage center established next to headquarters, she 
had sought out Skinner, who had been pacing in front 
of the building, face tense and drawn.

"Just a prank, we think," he said softly when he saw 
her, shaking his head. "That man sure wanted to make 
an impression." 

Thankful that the FBI hadn't been the target of an 
unprecedented domestic terrorism attack, Scully had 
checked on Mulder, who'd been arguing vociferously 
with a nurse who was attempting to take a blood 
sample. After ascertaining that he was fine, she'd 
finally made her way back home. 

She sank into a hot bath and shut her eyes, letting 
the relaxing steam wash over her and lull her into a 
restful state. 

Too soon, the jingling of her phone jarred her from a 
half-doze. She reached for it, groaning when she saw 
Mulder's name on the caller ID. 

"Make it home in one piece?" she asked him by means of 
a greeting. 

"Not if that nurse had anything to say about it," 
Mulder grumbled. "I swear, she stuck me with that 
needle about six times." 

"You're not supposed to piss off someone who has the 
ability to hurt you." 

"I'll keep that in mind next time." 

Scully sighed and sank lower into the bubbles, letting 
the low timber of his voice lull her back into a doze. 

"So, Scully, I was thinking about calling in sick 
tomorrow." 

That woke her up. "You never call in sick." 

"I was thinking road trip. Upstate New York. You 
down?" 

She groaned. "What's in upstate New York?" 

"At least thirteen people in the small town of Sleepy 
Hollow have reported sightings of--"

"The headless horseman?" 

"All within the past week," he sounded pleased.

"Please tell me you're kidding." 

"Trust me, the folks of Sleepy Hollow have heard 
enough headless horseman jokes to last a lifetime. The 
last thing they'd want to do is draw attention to 
this." 

"Dare I even ask where you got this information?" 

"Had the Gunmen zoom in on a file lying on Spender's 
desk. He put the damn thing right in the shredder, but 
I think it's worth checking out." 

"Of course you do." 

"So?" She could almost hear his grin through the phone 
and she was mildly irritated when she felt a small 
smile spread across her own face. 

"Sure," she sighed. "Be a damn sight more interesting 
than watching you play solitaire." 

"I'll pick you up at seven tomorrow."

"Sure." 

She was smiling as she hung up the phone and stood 
from the bath, wrapping herself in a fluffy towel. As 
much as she loathed to admit it, she missed hunting 
down obscure cases with him. And time spent away from 
the bureau meant time spent away from Diana Fowley. 
Besides, a headless horseman hunt meant Mulder in the 
woods, which meant Mulder in jeans. And Mulder in 
jeans was always a welcome sight. 

By the time she'd changed into her satin pajamas and 
slipped beneath the covers of her bed, Scully realized 
that she was quite looking forward to the next day's 
adventure. 

*


"Dana," the persistent voice invaded her sleep. "Dana, 
honey, wake up. You've overslept." 

Scully groaned slightly and burrowed deeper under the 
pillows. Why was Mulder calling her Dana?

"Come on, sweetie." 

Sweetie? That got her to open her eyes, and then she 
sat up in shock. 

Her mother was standing next to the bed, gently 
shaking her shoulder. 

"Mom?" her voice sounded sleep-addled and foreign to 
her. "What are you doing here?" 

"I swear," her mother shook her head. "When you were 
little, I couldn't keep you in bed much past seven in 
the morning. Now I can't get you up." 

"What are you talking about?" She rubbed her eyes. 
"Was I supposed to meet you today?" She glanced at the 
clock. Seven-thirty. "Oh, dammit, Mulder's going to be 
here any second--"

"What did you say?"

"Sorry Mom," Scully slid out of bed and was startled 
to feel plush carpet under her feet. She stared down 
at it stupidly for a moment before glancing up, 
realizing for the first time that the room was 
completely foreign to her. Her bedspread was blue and 
flowered, cheery yellow curtains fluttered over the 
window, a tiny TV sat on a table in the corner. She 
turned to look in disbelief at her mother, who was 
still regarding her with a disapproving frown. "Mom?!" 

"If you miss the bus, I'm not driving you to school," 
her mother said, moving towards the window and 
flinging open the curtains, allowing the light to 
flood in. 

"School?" Scully felt as though she were three steps 
behind in this conversation. 

"Your sister's been up for the past hour and a half 
putting makeup on. God forbid she look less than 
perfect on the first day back." Her mother shook her 
head with a look of frustrated fondness. "And then 
there's you. I don't know how I had two daughters so 
different." 

Scully opened her mouth to speak, but before she could 
say a word she caught a glimpse of herself in the 
mirror. "Oh...my god." 

Had she been of a weaker constitution, Dana Scully 
might have fainted dead away. Instead, she gripped the 
edge of her night stand with white knuckles as she 
regarded her appearance. 

She was short, shorter than she'd been the night 
before. Her hair was slightly frizzed and curled under 
at the ends, like she'd worn it when she was young. 
Her face, untouched by age or makeup, looked youthful 
and freckly. She was wearing a long, plain white 
nightgown, and to her horror she opened wide to reveal 
a mouthful of braces. 

All in all, if her memory served her correct, she 
looked to be about fourteen years old. 

Resisting the urge to sink to the floor and repeat 
"this is not happening" whilst rocking back and forth, 
Scully turned back towards the bed she had just 
awakened from and stared at it. 

"This has to be a dream." 

"No dream," her mother said grimly. "You've been 
looking forward to your first year of high school for 
months, Dana. Why the hesitation now? Are you 
nervous?" 

"Mom, I'm thirty-four years old!" 

"What?" her mother's indulgent smile faded. She moved 
quickly to Scully's side, pressing a cool hand against 
her forehead. "Are you feeling all right?" 

Scully swatted her hand away. "I don't have a fever, 
mom. This has to be a hallucination of some sort." Her 
heart thudded in her chest. "Mulder!" 

"Mulder?" Her mother was still staring at her, now 
looking downright concerned. "What does that mean?" 

Shaking her head, Scully moved towards the closet, 
searching frantically for something to wear. 

"You laid this out last night," her mother offered, 
gesturing to a pair of jeans and a soft blue sweater. 

Feeling mildly nauseous, Scully grabbed for the 
clothes. 

*

"You're dreaming, Dana," she murmured to herself as 
she padded down the stairs. She froze when she saw who 
was sitting at the kitchen table. 

Melissa. 

She was young and beautiful as she'd been back at 
sixteen. Her long, dark hair was combed straight and 
hung down her back as she nibbled delicately on a 
piece of toast so as not to smudge her lipstick. 

"Missy?" Scully asked incredulously, her fingernails 
digging into the counter top.

"Hey," her sister said absently, standing up and 
dumping her plate into the sink. 

Before she even realized she'd moved, Scully had 
enveloped her in a huge hug, her chest heaving with 
swallowed sobs. 

"Jeez, don't wrinkle my shirt!" Melissa said, but 
there was affection in her voice. "Guess you forgive 
me, huh?" 

"Forgive you? For what?" 

"For breaking your chemistry set," Melissa rolled her 
eyes and stepped back. "You threw such a tantrum last 
night I thought you'd never speak to me again." She 
narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Or are you just 
trying to butter me up so that I talk nice about you 
to the upperclassmen?" 

"No," Scully said, talking past the lump in her 
throat. "No, it's fine." 

"Listen," Melissa's voice dropped to a conspiratorial 
whisper. "I know Mom wants you to take the bus for 
your first day and all, but I don't see any reason why 
you can't bum a ride with me and Bill. You'll make a 
far better impression that way." 

"Bill has a car?" Scully blinked. Her brother had 
never owned a car at seventeen, as far as she could 
remember.

"Pitiful old thing," Melissa laughed. "Don't let him 
hear you make fun of it like that, Dana. He'll never 
drive you to the mall again." 

Outside, a horn blasted. Scully peered through the 
window to see her older brother sitting in the 
driver's seat of a gray sedan. She blinked, turning 
back towards Melissa. "What year is it?" 

"The car? An '83 I think." 

"Not the car, the year." 

Wow, what the hell were you drinking last night?" 
Melissa chortled. "1998, stupid. Now let's get out of 
here before Mom realizes you're not on the bus." 

Scully allowed herself to be pulled out the door.

*

The mob scene in front of the high school caused 
Scully to cringe back against the faded leather seats 
in the back seat of her brother's car. She breathed 
deeply as she watched Melissa stub out her cigarette, 
and she fumbled around for her backpack. 

For a dream, this was frightfully realistic. Scully 
allowed herself a rueful moment to reflect on the fact 
that her pleasant dreams about Mulder were never this 
lifelike, and usually faded quite quickly into the 
harsh reality of her lonely awakening. 

Although, she suspected that awakening to the reality 
that her sister was no longer part of the world would 
be just as painful. 

"Senior year," Bill said proudly, puffing out his 
chest as he donned his varsity letter jacket. He 
glowered intimidating at a flock of nervous freshman 
that scurried by. 

"Dork," Melissa said, shaking her head and tugging on 
Scully's arm. "Okay, don't be nervous. And no matter 
what anyone says, you should never, ever carry that 
backpack with you to class. Even if it means running 
to your locker about eighty times a day. Nothing 
screams 'freshman' more than a giant backpack." She 
flipped her hair and glanced critically at the other 
girls who walked by. "You should try to make friends 
as soon as possible, but if you need to you can sit 
with me at lunch for a few days." 

Scully nodded, surprised by how nervous she felt. 
Hell, she'd faced down countless mutants and 
government conspirators. High school should be a piece 
of cake.

She lost sight of her sister and brother in the crush 
of students pushing through the glass doors. As she 
followed other fresh-faced, nervous kids down the hall 
towards a room marked Freshman Orientation, she 
silently willed herself to wake up. She really didn't 
want to go through the tedium of school all over 
again. 

"Oof" she grunted as she tripped over some kid's 
wheeled backpack. The thing was large, green, and 
hideously overstuffed. She couldn't help but wonder 
what Melissa would have to say about it. The laugh 
died in her throat when she looked up from the 
backpack into the nervous face of the kid in front of 
her. 

"Langly?" 

The awkward, skinny boy in front of her ran a hand 
through his longish blond hair and let out a relieved 
sigh. "Thank god, Scully. I was beginning to think 
this was a nightmare." 

She was horrified. "You mean it's *not*?"

He shrugged. "My guess is that it has something to do 
with that gas that was being pumped through the 
heating ducts." 

"I don't care what kind of gas it was, it can't send 
people back in time." 

"We're not back in time," he said grimly. "It's 1998." 

"What is going on?" she murmured, taking the time to 
look him up and down. The fourteen year old Langly 
didn't look much different from the grown-up version, 
all gangly awkwardness in an oversized t-shirt and a 
faded pair of jeans. Some patches advertising popular 
rock bands adorned his backpack. 

As they filed into the gymnasium, she scanned the sea 
of faces for anyone else that looked familiar. Finding 
no one, she reluctantly joined Langly on the 
bleachers, pretending not to notice the few girls that 
snickered at his backpack. 

Several teachers entered the gym and moved towards the 
podium set up under the basketball hoops. Scully 
gasped as she recognized Kersh amongst them. 

"This is like the Wizard of Oz on drugs," she 
murmured.

"He looks confused," Langly said, and indeed he was 
right. Kersh was standing amidst the other 
administrators, outfitted in his FBI best, and 
surveying the students faces with an expression of 
supreme confusion. 

One of the teachers said something to him, and was 
obviously not pleased with his response. With a huff, 
she moved towards the podium.

"Welcome, freshman, class of 2002," the woman said in 
a cloyingly sweet voice. "Ordinarily Principal Kersh 
would give the commencement address, but he appears to 
be slightly...under the weather." The woman glanced 
over at him with a frown, and then returned a smiling 
expression to the students. "I'm Mrs. Appleby. I teach 
algebra here, and I'm also your vice principal. I 
expect to see many of your smiling faces in my class 
over the course of this year..." 

Her voice droned on, and Scully found herself scanning 
the crowd for Mulder's face. If this wasn't a dream, 
he had to be here as he'd been affected by the gas 
too. If it was a dream...well it just wasn't fair that 
she'd dream up Langly and not Mulder. 

Of course, Mulder was older than she was, so he 
probably wouldn't be in her high school class--

"Look at the dork!" someone shouted from the back of 
the bleachers, causing even Mrs. Appleby to pause mid-
speech and glance towards the doors. 

There, bowed under the weight of an enormous backpack, 
and dressed rather oddly in a button down plaid shirt 
that was tucked into too-short pants, dark hair gelled 
back stiffly against the crown of his head, was Melvin 
Frohike. 

Well, Scully thought with a sigh, there went the age 
theory. Perhaps her subconscious was just playing 
cruel tricks on her. 

Someone behind them started to snicker as Langly put 
up his hand and frantically waved at him. Frohike 
glanced up in sharp relief and began to thunder up the 
bleachers, pausing only to ogle a startled girl 
wearing a miniskirt. 

"What the hell is going on?" Frohike asked as he sat 
down, gasping with exertion. His backpack hit the 
bleachers with a thud. "I didn't go to high school 
with you." 

"You do now, apparently," Langly grunted. "Scully's 
here." 

Frohike's eyes lit up. "Where?" 

"I'm right here," Scully sighed.

His face fell slightly. "You've got braces." 

Scully looked at him sourly.

"No bother," Frohike shrugged. "You're still 
delectable." 

"Have you seen Mulder?" she asked him.

"Shh," some kid behind them said. 

"No," Frohike said in a hushed voice. "Saw Diana 
Fowley in the cafeteria though. She's looking fi-ine." 

"Fantastic," Scully sighed. "Does she have any idea 
what's going on?" 

"I didn't try to talk to her!" Frohike put his hands 
up in the air in a mock surrender. "I'm just a 
freshman, jeez. I'd have to be nuts to approach a 
junior."

She stared at him for a moment. "Frohike, we're not 
really high school freshmen. You do realize that, 
right?" 

He looked mildly embarrassed. "I know that." 

Scully scowled. "And why the hell does she get to be a 
junior?"

"The sooner we figure out how to reverse this, the 
better," a squeaky, falsetto voice piped up behind 
them. 

They turned in surprise to see a small, pipsqueak 
version of John Byers sitting on the bleachers behind 
them. His hair was combed neatly and he wore a button 
down shirt and khakis. His shirt had a pocket 
protector in it, from which sprouted several pens. A 
small black briefcase rested next to him. 

"When did you get in here?" Langly asked him.

"I was sitting in the back. I saw you guys up here so 
I've been slowly creeping down the bleachers to get 
closer." 

"What's with the voice?" Frohike snorted.

Byers looked pained. "I haven't hit puberty yet." 

Langly and Frohike erupted into laughter, causing 
every head in the room to swivel towards them. Scully 
briefly felt like crawling into a hole. 

"I was a late bloomer," Byers squeaked, only making 
them laugh harder. 

"You know," Frohike said, leaning towards her. "This 
might not be so bad. We get to poke fun at Byers all 
the time, and I'll get to watch you mature into a 
stunning young lady--"

"Frohike," she said warningly. She supposed her tone 
must have conveyed enough, because he fell silent. 
Hell hath no fury like a fourteen year old redhead 
with braces. 

*

Scully sat uncomfortably in the hard wooden chair in 
the first classroom of the day. The rest of 
orientation had passed without incident, and she'd 
stepped forward with the rest of the kids to receive 
her schedule. To her mixed feelings of relief and 
apprehension, she discovered that she had been 
scheduled for all the same classes as Frohike, Langly, 
and Byers. The four of them took seats by the window 
as they waited for the English teacher to call out 
attendance. 

Scully felt her breath catch in her throat as the 
teacher read "Mulder, Fox W." from the sheet she held 
in front of her. 

Silence punctuated with furtive giggles met the 
request. 

"Fox?" some girl muttered. "What kind of name is Fox?"

Scully scanned the classroom eagerly, but there was no 
sign of him. A seat near the back sat conspicuously 
empty. 

Obviously, Mulder had not made it to school. She felt 
mildly foolish. If this wasn't a dream, he was 
obviously off trying to rectify the situation. She 
suddenly felt as though she should have gone off in 
search of answers herself, instead of going along with 
the charade and showing up for her first day of high 
school. 

It surprised her how much she missed him. Somehow, 
discussing strange phenomena with the Gunmen was not 
the same without him around. 

Forty minutes later, Langly and Frohike were rolling 
with laughter again as they listened to Byers 
passionately discuss plans for revamping the school 
paper with the English teacher. Every so often his 
voice would crack, his sentences always ending on an 
uplifted note. 

"He's sweet on her," Frohike said, nodding his head 
towards the pretty teacher. 

"He hasn't hit puberty yet!" Langly faked horror. 

Watching the fourteen year old Byers attempt to woo 
the teacher was unfortunate and uncomfortable to 
watch, so Scully turned her head and gazed out the 
window instead. 

That was when she caught the furtive movement in the 
bushes. She leaned over in her seat, nearly pressing 
her nose against the glass, and when a face appeared 
in the window she let out a little yelp and sat back. 

The teacher was too busy reacting to Byers' vigorous 
assault that she gave no notice. 

The face in the window was young and handsome, unlined 
and untroubled, although undoubtedly confused. 

It was the face of Fox Mulder, and after he cocked his 
head quizzically at her for a moment, he beckoned her 
towards the bushes. 

Giving it no second thought--really, did she ever 
hesitate to follow him?--Scully slipped out of her 
chair and into the hall, her sneakers whispering 
against the tile floor as she hurried for the exit. 

*

The cool fall air gently brushed her hair from her 
shoulders as she stepped out onto the school grounds. 
Mulder was waiting for her under a tree, wearing jeans 
and a blue Knicks t-shirt, looking confused and 
uncomfortable. 

"Scully?" he asked doubtfully as she walked towards 
him across the grass. 

"Mulder," her voice trembled with relief. "I was 
beginning to think you weren't here." 

"What the hell is going on?" He ran his hands through 
his hair and glanced towards the school with a 
mistrustful expression. "I went to sleep on my couch 
and woke up in my childhood bed." 

"That pretty much sums up what happened to me," she 
shrugged. "A hallucination from the gas we were 
exposed to?" 

"Which one of us is hallucinating?"

She blinked at him and pondered this for a moment. "I 
guess I am." 

"I'd say I am." 

"Folie a deux?" She offered. 

"What the heck were you doing with your hair back when 
you were fourteen?" Mulder chuckled and touched one of 
her reddish curls. 

She scowled. "I get it, I'm a geek. Can we move on?" 

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I think it's cute." 

She silently fumed. He was laughing at her! Six years 
of being each other's one-in-five-billion, yada yada 
yada, and it all goes down the tubes because he sees 
her in all her dorky fourteen year old glory. All this 
while he looks like a goddamned child model. 

"You have no idea what this is going to do to my 
schoolgirl fantasies, Scully." He said, grinning that 
impossible grin of his.

"How the hell are you the same age as me?" She 
snapped. 

Mulder shrugged. "I don't think hallucinations really 
discriminate based on age." 

"If it's a hallucination," she murmured. 

"I don't really see what else it could be." 

"It seems so real," she said. 

He nodded soberly, glancing around. "It's very weird." 

"So do you ever go to class, or are you just the rebel 
who sits around outside and mocks the good kids?" 

"You wound me, Scully. Of course I go to class. Who 
else would leave such elaborate pencil graffiti on the 
desks?" 

*

"Dana!" Scully glanced up to see Melissa hurrying 
towards her in the cafeteria, hair swishing behind
 her. 

"Hellooo," Frohike muttered under his breath, staring 
intently at her chest. Scully elbowed him in the 
stomach. 

"How's your first day going?" Melissa asked, glancing 
warily at the four boys sitting at the table with her 
younger sister. 

"Great. Fantastic." Scully hoped the smile on her face 
looked genuine. She'd had to hold Mulder back forcibly 
when he'd discovered Jeffrey Spender was in their 
biology class, and her arm was still sore from the 
effort. 

"Who...uh...who are these guys?" Missy's eyes fell to 
Langly's enormous backpack-on-wheels.

"Melvin Frohike, Ringo Langly, John Byers and Fox 
Mulder," Scully said, pointing to each one in turn. 
She cringed as Frohike leaned over and placed a kiss 
on Melissa's hand. 

"Pleasure to meet you," he said demurely. 

"Dana, if I could...pry you away for a moment, I'd 
love for you to meet some of my friends." 

"Are they as lovely as you are?" Frohike persisted. 

Melissa let out a huff of irritation and pulled Scully 
towards her. "Who are they?" she hissed as soon as 
they were out of earshot. 

"Some friends--"

"They're geeks! Dana, high school is supposed to be a 
time for you to reinvent yourself. Date a jock. Join 
the cheerleading squad. You're never going to be liked 
if you hang around with guys like those. I mean, jeez, 
that one guy's *hair*..." 

"They're nice," Scully said stubbornly. 

Melissa sighed. "Yeah, so let them help you with your 
math homework and be done with it. That last one was 
pretty cute, though. Fox. Stick with him. But for the 
love of god, lose the nerds." 

Scully sighed and glanced at the older faces 
populating the table Missy had just led her to. 

"Guys, this is my baby sister Dana. Dana, this is 
Diana, Jessica, Mindy, Chris and Walter." 

Scully nearly choked as she recognized the much 
younger, radiant face of Diana Fowley in the crowd. 
The other girl smiled slyly at her, showcasing 
perfectly straight, white teeth. She tore her eyes 
away and surveyed the two guys her sister had 
mentioned. Chris was tall, blond and handsome in a 
surfer sort of way. And Walter...well he was just 
breathtaking. Tall and broad-shouldered, with thick 
dark hair and a strong jaw line, he looked like he'd 
stepped out of a movie poster somewhere. 

He looked startled to see her, and she responded by 
smiling blankly back at him. 

"Don't you just love his hair?" Missy leaned over and 
ruffled the thick dark locks. "This guy's damn lucky. 
He'll never go bald." 

Walter flushed pink, his look of pure mortification so 
inconsistent with the rest of him that it gave Scully 
pause. And then it clicked. "Walter...Skinner?" 

"Hi...Dana," he said, nodding, his voice the same deep 
baritone she remembered. 

"You two know each other?" Missy blinked, confused. 

"No, I must have heard you talking about him," Scully 
said quickly. 

"Yeah, he's crazy," Melissa agreed. "Do you guys 
remember the time when we were down by the beach, and 
Walter brought that keg--" 

Skinner looked terribly uncomfortable, and Scully shot 
him a baffled smile meant to reassure. As Melissa 
giggled with her friends, she turned and hurried back 
to her own table. 

"It's nice to see Melissa," Mulder said quietly to her 
when she sat down, and she turned to face him with 
slightly damp eyes. 

"Back at your house...your sister..." 

"Two years too late," he said with a tight smile, 
leaning back in his chair. 

"I'm sorry," her voice was low, and she touched his 
hand gently. 

A chorus of shrill giggles went up from the table 
behind her, and she turned to see that a gaggle of 
young girls were watching them intently. She jerked 
her hand away and sat up straight. 

"Kids," Mulder snorted. 

Across the table, Byers pulled a sandwich out of his 
lunch bag, groaned when he realized it had been cut 
into a star shape, and buried his face in his hands. 

*

When the last bell of the day rang, Scully exhaustedly 
returned to her locker, tugging out the books she was 
going to need for homework and loading them in her 
backpack. She jumped when someone pressed against her 
back, and then sighed in relief when she realized it 
was only Mulder, crushed against her by the throng of 
students escaping for the day. 

"We have to figure this out," he said, his breath hot 
on her ear. "I'm not going through high school again." 

"Most people would jump at the chance," she said 
quietly. "Get the chance to change the bad decisions 
they made." 

"Is that what you want?" There was something 
inscrutable in his eyes. 

She hesitated, catching a glimpse of Melissa's smiling 
face over Mulder's shoulder. Then she closed her eyes 
before returning her attention to him. "No...of course 
not." 

"Besides, it's not like you've returned to your real 
childhood," he grumbled, having caught her hesitation. 
"It's still 1998. Government conspiracy alive and 
kicking, apocalypse coming..." 

"I get it," she grunted, pushing past him and moving 
towards the door. He tagged along behind her, she 
could hear him breathing so close to her right ear 
until she finally couldn't take it anymore and spun to 
face him. "I don't know what we can do about it." 

"First things first, I think we need to band together. 
I already talked to Diana--" 

"Oh well that solves everything." 

Mulder let out an impatient huff. "I think we should 
meet up tonight. All of us." 

Scully sighed as she noticed Kersh moving through the 
crowd of students, most of whom shied away from his 
intimidating presence. He looked far from 
intimidating, however, with the look of utter and 
complete horror on his face. 

"Sir," Scully said, hurrying after him, Mulder on her 
heels. 

Kersh whirled to face her, his face contorting for a 
moment in some unreadable expression. Was that horror? 
Or laughter? With him, it was hard to tell. 

"Mulder, Scully," he said grimly by means of greeting. 
His voice was low and trembling with unreleased rage. 
"Might I ask *what* you've managed to do *this* time?" 

Mulder blinked. "What?"

"This has all the makings of a Mulder stunt," the man 
said, waving his hand in the general direction of the 
students. 

"Sir, I'm a fourteen year old kid right now." 

Kersh glowered at him for a long moment. "I don't know 
how you pulled that off either, but I expect you to 
make it right. I'm the Deputy Director of the FBI, not 
a high school principal." He cringed as some wiseass 
student heading towards the buses shot a spitball onto 
the lapel of his suit.

"Well he was helpful, as always," Mulder sighed as 
they made their way into the parking lot. 

"You taking the bus home?" she asked him, staring at 
the long line of yellow vehicles that were slowly 
filling with laughing students.

Mulder winced. "Ah, no. I think I'm gonna walk around 
town a bit, scope things out." 

She opened her mouth to speak but he stopped her with 
one carefully placed finger on her lips. 

"Just say you'll come tonight." 

She nodded mutely. She always did. 

"Dana!" Melissa was waving frantically from the 
vicinity of Bill's gray car. Bill was busily scaring 
away some shrimpy freshman who looked enthralled with 
his varsity jacket. 

"I'll see you later, Mulder," she said with a sad 
smile, terribly reluctant to leave him. He looked so 
small and alone. 

When she sank into the back seat of Bill's car, Missy 
was smiling at her mischievously. "Bill, ask Dana 
about her new boyfriends." 

"Boyfriends?" Bill snarled. "Already?" 

"Melvin, Ringo, John and Fox," Missy teased. 

"You're kidding me, right?" 

"Stop it," Scully squirmed. She'd forgotten what it 
was like to be the subject of intense sibling 
scrutiny. "They're not my boyfriends." 

From the front seat, she could barely make out Melissa 
singing softly, under her breath "Da-na and Mel-vin 
sitting in a tree..." 

And when she turned to look back towards the school, 
she saw Mulder still standing alone in the parking 
lot, staring after her car with haunted eyes as the 
buses departed around him.

*

When Scully arrived back home, she entered a house 
overwhelmed by the scent of baking cookies. Charlie, 
already home from junior high, sat at the kitchen 
table, legs kicking at the rungs of his chair as he 
happily indulged in an enormous chocolate chip and a 
tall glass of milk. 

Her mother emerged from the kitchen with a plate full 
of cookies, which she set down on the table. 

"Mom!" Melissa groaned. "I'm never going to lose 
weight if you keep doing this!" 

"It's a Scully family tradition to celebrate the first 
day back at school with cookies," She scolded gently. 
"Charlie doesn't seem to be complaining."

Melissa stuck her tongue out at Charlie, who responded 
in kind. Bill brushed past her and took a cookie. "Is 
Dad home?" 

"He's in the living room." 

Scully felt her heart constrict. Bypassing the 
cookies, she moved through the kitchen slowly, as 
though underwater. When she peeked into the living 
room, she could just make out the crown of her 
father's head over the back of the recliner. 

"Ahab?" her voice sounded so tiny to her ears.

The chair squeaked as he turned to get a good look at 
her. A smile split his face. "Hello Starbuck. High 
school everything you hoped it would be?" 

He seemed shocked when she flung herself across the 
room and into his arms, pressing her face against his 
chest and breathing in his familiar, achingly missed 
scent. 

"Stopped being embarrassed to hug your parents, eh?" 
he laughed, stroking her back gently and Scully felt 
her cheeks flame red with mortification as she 
remembered how she'd treated her parents in her years 
of adolescence. 

She could have stayed like that forever, just holding 
on to him and listening to his reassuring heartbeat, 
had Bill and Melissa not charged into the room, both 
laughing and roughhousing. 

"Dana's got a boyfriend," Missy taunted, giggling. 

"Four of 'em. Guess I'm gonna need to have a talk with 
them," Bill snickered.

Ahab's chest rumbled with laughter. "Four boyfriends, 
Starbuck? I don't think even your sister managed that 
on her first day of freshman year." 

"They're not..." she waved her hand helplessly. 
"They're just friends." 

Charlie, obviously feeling left out of all the high-
school talk piped up with a sour expression, "Why 
would a boy want to be friends with a girl?" 

The room erupted into good natured laughter. 


TITLE: Everything Old is New Again (2/4)
AUTHOR: Susanna Starz

*

That evening, Scully retreated to her bedroom to 
do her homework, and after locking the door behind her 
and flipping on the television for some cover noise, 
slipped out the window. 

She walked the few blocks towards the school in 
the cool night air, hugging her arms around herself to 
keep warm. She was not surprised to encounter Mulder 
skulking in the shadows on the way.

"Hey," he said with a shaky smile. "Thought you 
weren't coming." 

"I always do," she said pointedly. 

"How's everything?"

"Good." She smiled, surprised to find that tears 
had reached her eyes again. "My dad's alive." 

He smiled sadly at her. "I'm happy for you. I 
think I know what it means for you to see him again." 

She took a steadying breath and then glanced 
around at the quiet, dusky streets. "Do you have a 
plan?"

"I've got the boys, Diana, and Skinner meeting 
us here. I'll assume she told Spender." He scowled. 
"Hopefully we'll be able to figure this out." 

"You didn't invite Kersh?" she joked 
halfheartedly. 

From a few blocks away, they could make out the 
approaching figures of Frohike and Langly, a tiny form 
hurrying after them who could only have been Byers. 

"He is never going to live this down if we get 
out of here," Mulder said with a wry smile. 

"Fox," someone said from the shadows behind 
them, and Diana Fowley stepped into view, looking 
uncertain. Scully noted with some distaste that the 
sixteen year old Diana was the embodiment of every 
teenage male fantasy, tall and full figured. 

Great. She was short, as of yet fairly flat-
chested, and she had braces. Just fantastic. 

"What's going on?" Diana asked Mulder, completely ignoring Scully. "I woke up this morning 
and..." she gestured helplessly at herself. "All of 
these people, my supposed friends at school, they all 
have memories and photographs of times we spent 
together. I don't remember any of it." 

"It would appear," Scully said tartly, "that we 
are under the influence of some sort of hallucinogenic 
agent. Most likely caused by the gas that was released 
in the building yesterday." 

"So what do we do?" Diana frowned.

"That's what we need to figure out," Mulder 
glanced up at the sky. "The sooner, the better." 

Frohike, Langly and Byers caught up to the 
group, looking concerned. 

"I'm really getting tired of this," Byers 
squeaked. 

"How do we get back?" Langly asked Mulder.

Something rustled in the bushes behind them, and 
they turned to find Skinner, standing awkwardly in the 
shadows cast by the trees. 

Mulder blinked at him, and then grinned. "Wow, 
sir. Looking good." 

Skinner seemed terribly self-conscious about his 
thick hair and abnormal good looks. He shifted from 
one foot to the other as he regarded them with a stony 
expression. "I don't suppose you've figured this out 
yet." 

"We're working on it," Scully assured him. 

"You have a...leaf..." Diana, licking her lips, 
leaned in to brush a stray piece of foliage off of 
Skinner's shoulder. She batted her eyes at him. 

"Agent Fowley, that is beyond inappropriate at 
the present time." 

She blinked and straightened up. "Of course. 
Sorry." 

"Did you tell Spender about this?" 

"Agent Spender," Fowley's lips curled up in a 
small smile, "Is currently grounded by his mother for 
talking back to her."

There was a moment of amused silence as they 
pondered this. 

"Apparently, he's been trying to convince her 
that he's not fourteen, that he's an adult, and an FBI 
agent at that," Fowley shrugged. "She is not amused." 

"And he doesn't know when to give it up," Mulder 
grunted. 

"So now that you've got us all here for this 
meeting, what the hell are we going to do?" That came 
from Skinner. 

Scully glanced over at Mulder, hoping beyond 
hope that he'd come up with one of his outrageous but 
usually correct theories, lead them on a dangerous 
wild goose chase that would ultimately end with them 
waking up in the correct portion of their lifetimes. 

The look on his face twisted her heart. 

She had seen Mulder completely helpless on very 
few occasions. But now, his eyes dark and haunted, he 
seemed totally at a loss. 

And she didn't have to ask to know he wasn't 
enjoying his brief return to childhood. 

"Well I think it's a good start, establishing 
that we're all experiencing the same phenomena," she 
said, diverting attention from him and straightening 
up somewhat. "If this is a hallucination, I guess the 
only thing we can do is hope it wears off soon. If 
it's not..." She cringed. She was not prepared to 
consider the possibility that this was something 
entirely different from a gas-induced hallucination. 

"We should call Washington," Langly said. "They 
might know something." 

"Everyone in the FBI building would have been 
affected," Skinner shook his head.

"Well someone would have to know something," 
Scully said. "Doctors, emergency personnel..." 

"People entered the building with haz-mat 
suits," Fowley agreed.

"We'll make some calls tonight," Byers said, 
gesturing to Langly and Frohike. 

"Like anyone's going to take you seriously with 
that voice," Frohike snorted.

"You sound like you're five," Langly agreed.

Byers narrowed his eyes. "I won't forget this."

"Believe me, neither will we," Frohike said.

Scully held up her hand, silencing them. "If 
tomorrow morning, we don't wake up in the 
proper...whatever...then we start making calls. 
Agreed?" 

The others reluctantly nodded their heads. 

"Well," Langly kicked at the ground with a 
battered Converse sneaker. "I guess I should head 
home. My parents made lasagna." 

"Damn," Frohike shook his head. "I got meat 
loaf." 

Like a sandlot game after the sun had gone down, 
their group slowly split and headed off into their 
various corners of the neighborhood until only Scully 
and Mulder remained, staring at each other in the dim 
light afforded by the street lamps. 

"Go home," she told him gently. "Close your 
eyes, and tomorrow this will be nothing more than a 
strange dream." 

He nodded and began walking along beside her, 
keeping pace. He seemed in no great hurry. 

"You okay?" she asked him finally, breaking the 
pristine silence.

He shrugged. "There's a reason I'd repressed 
this portion of my childhood." 

It broke Scully's heart. He'd spent so many 
years climbing out of darkness, only to have been 
thrown right back into what were bound to be the 
blackest years of his life. 

She couldn't even imagine what it was like at 
his house, how his parents were behaving. It didn't 
matter that they were in some nameless, imaginary town 
and not Martha's Vineyard, the circumstances were the 
same. 

Always the same. 

And if her inclination was right, Mulder's 
household had all too recently been torn apart by 
Samantha's disappearance. The wounds were still raw. 

Unable to stop herself, she reached over and 
pulled him to her. He came willingly, without a 
struggle, resting his head on her shoulder. For a long 
time they stood, unmoving, and she watched the shine 
of the streetlamps glisten off of his hair. 

It astonished her how cruel circumstances could 
be. She'd been handed back everything she'd lost, a 
glimpse of heaven for however brief a time, and he'd 
been tossed straight into the fires of hell. 

He pulled away slightly, and she found herself 
wondering what it would be like to kiss him. 

His lips had brushed against hers once, in a 
darkened hallway, spurred on by tears and years of 
pent-up emotion unleashed in a fateful instant. He had 
never spoken of it again, but there were times she 
could feel it trembling just beneath the surface of 
the people they pretended to be day after day. 
Sometimes she could ignore it, and others--like now--
she wanted nothing more than to press her lips against 
his and let the rest of the world fade away. 

Inwardly, she was horrified that the thought had 
even crossed her mind. He was just a little boy, after 
all. And she was...

Well hell. 

Fine opportunity these feelings took to present 
themselves. She certainly wasn't going to share her 
first kiss with her partner while she was a fumbling 
adolescent with a mouthful of braces. 

Instead, she did as she always did. She let the 
moment pass. 

Mulder studied her face for a long, quiet 
moment, slightly shy after his unexpected display of 
emotion. He reached out and touched her face with one 
trembling finger. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, Scully," he said. "We'll 
go headless horseman hunting." 

*I hope* she thought as she watched him 
disappear down the street. In that moment she was 
sure. She'd trade everything in her life to ensure 
that he never felt another moment of pain. 

If only the choice was up to her.

*

The next morning, Scully surprised herself by 
not being surprised at where she awakened. Already, 
her room felt at home to her. 

She did not argue when her mother came in to 
wake her up, and instead moved uncomplainingly to the 
closet to select an outfit for school. She went 
through the motions with her siblings over breakfast, 
eventually joining Bill and Melissa in the car on the 
way to school. 

She listened halfheartedly as Bill chattered on 
about football tryouts; her head felt cluttered and 
confused. It took her several minutes to organize her 
thoughts before she could speak. 

She found Mulder in front of the school, deep in 
conversation with the Gunmen. 

"Something's going on," she said. 

"We were just talking about that," Mulder said 
grimly. "Confusion. Disorientation. Slow reaction 
time." 

"Something's up," Langly agreed.

"And it 'aint good," Frohike nodded. 

"We need to start making those phone calls," 
Byers said. "Can you guys cut class?"

"Cutting class on the second day of 
school," Mulder grinned at Scully. "What will your 
parents think?" 

"Shut up, Mulder," she said, rolling her eyes. 

"I have a cell phone," Diana said from behind 
them, stepping forward and pulling out a small phone 
from her bag. 

"Ham radio," Langly offered sheepishly. 

Scully glanced up and saw Skinner walking 
towards them, throwing the occasional uncomfortable 
look over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being 
watched. She felt mildly guilty ogling her boss, 
but...damn.

"I'm on hold with the hospital," Fowley said, 
holding the phone tight against her head and pressing 
her hand against her other ear so as to block out the 
excess noise. 

"She works quickly," Frohike said darkly.

Diana ignored him and instead moved further 
away, tilting her head to the side and keeping that 
hand pressed against her ear. It took Scully a moment 
to realize that she was doing it on purpose, conscious 
of the way her full bosom moved against the tight 
sweater she was wearing. 

And she certainly wasn't oblivious to the 
appreciative looks she was getting from the male 
students that passed her by. Diana Fowley certainly 
seemed to be enjoying her unexpected return to the 
body of her youth, and the pleased little smile on her 
face suddenly made Scully doubt her intentions. 

"Give me the phone," she said abruptly.

Diana gave her a strange look. "Why?"

"I'm a doctor. I'll know what to say," the lie 
came smoothly, and Scully was pleased to see that 
Diana handed over the phone without protest. 

"Hello?" a male voice came over the line.

"This is Agent Scully with the FBI. I'm calling 
to check on the status of the agents who were exposed 
to a potentially toxic compound in headquarters 
yesterday afternoon." 

There was a long pause. "Who is this?"

"Agent Dana Scully." 

"Is this a joke?" 

"Why would I be joking?"

"Are you calling in a threat?"

"No," she felt frustration building. "The threat 
was yesterday. There were hundreds of emergency 
personnel called out to respond to it." 

"Lady, I don't know what you're talking about. 
We never received a call about anything at FBI 
headquarters. If you want to hold, I'll transfer you 
to--" Scully hung up, gritting her teeth in 
irritation. 

"They don't know anything." 

She tried to steel herself against Mulder's 
crestfallen expression. They stood in an awkward half 
circle, united by a common purpose, before finally, 
wordlessly, breaking apart and moving towards the 
school doors. 

*

"I'm forgetting," Mulder said to her, his voice 
hoarse and pained one morning when she arrived at 
school. "Every morning, a little more has slipped 
away." 

Scully had regarded him critically for a moment, 
wondering why it was that she was more inclined to 
call him Mulder than Fox. Then her head cleared, and 
she gasped, moving instinctively closer, not caring 
about the staring faces in the hallway. 

She held him close and refused to let go, 
terrified that the next time he vanished from her 
sight, he'd be gone from her memory forever. 

Already, Diana Fowley had become little more 
than a nuisance. Scully knew she detested the girl who 
ate lunch with her sister, but she couldn't for the 
life of her remember why. Even now, holding Mulder 
tightly against her, feeling his reassuring heartbeat, 
she couldn't wrestle the memory from her subconscious.

*

The mild fall turned into winter, and Dana woke 
up one December morning from a strange dream. She 
stood by the window, watching the snow tumble from the 
sky, and she twirled a strand of hair on her finger. 

She'd been lovely in her dream, lovely and all 
grown up. Far more self assured than she was now. An 
FBI agent, like Clarice Starling from Silence of the 
Lambs. It was an odd dream, Dana thought. From her 
stellar marks in biology, she'd been leaning towards a 
future in medicine.

Thundering footsteps shook the stairs, and she 
cringed as her door flew open to admit Bill and 
Charlie. 

"No school!" Charlie cheered. "Bill's gonna help 
me build a snowman, wanna help?" 

"Missy's already gone back to sleep, the lazy 
cow," Bill rolled his eyes affectionately. 

Dana started to nod, and then caught a glimpse 
through her bedroom window of a lone figure, standing 
in the snow-covered street. 

"Let me get my coat," she said. 

*

Fox was standing outside, shivering a little as 
the snowflakes danced around his face. 

Dana walked slowly towards him as her brothers 
dove vigorously into snowman construction behind her. 

"No school," she said, feeling suddenly shy. She 
wondered why she felt this way. They'd been close 
friends since the beginning of high school, after all. 
Had spent every afternoon together for almost four 
months. 

"It's nice, with no cars in the streets," he 
said. "I figured I'd take a walk. Somehow I ended up 
here." 

"I'll walk with you," she said, tucking her 
hands into her pockets and hunching her shoulders 
against the chill. She ignored Bill's wolf-whistle 
from the front yard. 

They waded through the deep snow, leaving their 
tracks behind them. 

"I had a funny dream last night," she said 
finally, her breath escaping in little white puffs. 

"Funny as in Principal Kersh wearing a dress, or 
funny weird?"

"That's not weird?" she raised her eyebrows at 
him, and he laughed softly. "Funny weird, I guess," 
she said reluctantly. "It seemed so real." 

"What was it about?"

"I was an adult," she said thoughtfully. "I 
guess in my thirties, I don't know. I looked 
different." 

"No braces?"

"Definitely no braces," she winced. "It's weird 
though, because whenever I picture myself all grown 
up, I see myself as a doctor." 

"You weren't a doctor in your dream?"

"No, I was an FBI agent." 

"Cool." 

"Yeah," she fell silent again, studying the sky. 

"You ever wake up sad?" Fox asked suddenly, 
watching her out of the corner of his eye. 

"I guess if I have a sad dream," she shrugged. 
"I don't really remember." 

"I woke up the other morning and tears were 
streaming down my face," he seemed kind of embarrassed 
to say that out loud. "I felt like I'd lost something 
so important, but for the life of me I couldn't 
remember what it was." 

"Was it about...your sister?" she asked quietly. 
She knew his little sister had vanished a few years 
earlier, although he rarely talked about it. 

"No," he said darkly. "I remember *those* 
dreams."

She made a little noise in the back of her 
throat and kicked at the snow. "I guess I kind of felt 
like that this morning. Not sad...exactly, but like I 
was missing something important. I almost didn't want 
to wake up." 

Fox was quiet for a little while, deep in 
thought. She liked to watch him while he was thinking, 
liked to imagine she could see the wheels turning in 
his head. He was terribly intelligent, she knew, even 
though he sometimes liked to hide it under wisecracks. 

"What do you think the boys are doing?" he asked 
finally.

She giggled. "You and your silly friends." 

"They're your friends too," he pointed out. "And 
Melvin thinks you're hot." 

"Stop that!" she swatted at him. "Don't say 
things like that." 

They found their three misfit companions down by 
the playground, building an elaborate snow fort. 

"Look out!" Fox laughed, pulling her to the side 
as the three other boys let loose with a deluge of 
snowballs. 

Laughing hysterically, Dana scooped at the snow, 
trying to return fire. She giggled as Fox caught a 
snowball right on the nose, and then retaliated by 
knocking Melvin on his ass with a well placed shot. 

By the time they had exhausted themselves, Ringo 
looked like an abominable snowman with snow matted to 
his scraggly blond hair. John, being the smallest, had 
managed to escape with minimal damage, as he'd spent 
the majority of the time hunkered down behind the 
bunker. 

Then Dana shrieked as Fox crept up behind her, 
carefully sliding a snowball down the back of her 
shirt. 

The battle began anew.

*

Christmas came and went. 1998 rolled into 1999 
without incident. In the bitter cold weeks of January, 
Dana began to take honors biology courses, Fox tried 
out for basketball and made varsity. Melvin, Ringo and 
John took over the school paper and turned it away 
from self-indulgent academic articles and remade it 
into a bizarre bible of paranoia, packed with lurid 
details, gossip about student life, and urban myths 
passed along by other kids. 

The teachers hated it. The kids loved it. The 
trio found themselves the unlikely heroes of the 
school. John Byers, formerly ridiculed for his 
smallish appearance, found that his slim build was 
exactly what was needed to hide in lockers and 
eavesdrop on private conversations so he could write 
about them in the next week's issue. Soon, not a kid 
in school would dare open their mouth to speak without 
a thorough check of the surrounding area. 

So it came to be that one frosty Tuesday, Dana 
sat in her third period history class, chewing 
absently on the eraser of her pencil, trying to look 
like she was focusing on the essay she was supposed to 
be writing when instead she was watching the courtyard 
through the fogged window. 

Melvin Frohike was outside, bundled up against 
the chill, lurking amongst the foliage, notebook in 
hand as he furiously scribbled. Several paces away, 
two teens were frantically kissing behind the bare oak 
tree, obviously thinking their actions were hidden 
from the world.

Dana knew for a fact that the girl's name was 
Kit, and that the boy she was currently kissing was 
her best friend's boyfriend, and from the delighted 
grin on Melvin's face, he must know the same. He 
caught her staring through the window and gave her a 
wink. 

"Miss Scully," her teacher had approached her 
desk, looking down at her blank loose leaf with a 
scowl. "Are you finished with your essay?" 

Her cheeks flamed red. "Oh, uh, no." 

His face softened. "You know, Dana, you'd be 
doing quite well in my class if you didn't daydream so 
much. You're very adept in history." 

She knew she was adept in history. Hell, she was 
adept in everything. It was almost as if she'd done it 
all before. 

When her teacher strolled away to check on the 
other students, she licked her lips and set about 
writing her essay. Then Fox walked by outside, pausing 
to crouch in the bushes beside Melvin, and she was 
lost. 

*

There were advantages to being friends with a 
varsity basketball player, Dana thought as she sat in 
the bleachers with a few girls from her class, 
cheering on the team. 

No one picked on her. No one bothered her. And 
she certainly didn't mind admiring the view presented 
by those snug little athletic shorts. 

Of course, she did feel mildly guilty ogling 
Fox. He was her friend, after all. She'd never gotten 
any inclination that there was anything more to it. 
But damn, if she was going to develop a crush on 
anyone, this was it. And Melissa seemed to think there 
was something there, and if she'd learned anything in 
the past few months it was that her sister's intuition 
was usually right, particularly when it came to the 
opposite sex.

"Come on," Missy had told her over dinner one 
night. "He comes over after school almost every day." 

"His parents aren't around much," Dana had 
defended.

"He's gorgeous," Missy took a bite of salad, 
crunching delicately. "Seriously. So many girls like 
him, even girls in my grade." 

"Maybe he's gay," Bill offered from around a 
mouthful of burger. 

"Bill!" Maggie had scolded.

"We're just friends," Dana insisted.

"Oh come on," Melissa rolled her eyes. "I know 
damn well you've seen *When Harry Met Sally.* Men and 
women can't be friends, because the sex part always 
gets in the way." 

"Melissa!" Maggie admonished, shocked.

Charlie had peered at them intently. "Missy has 
guy friends." 

"Exactly," she raised her eyebrows. 

"MELISSA!" Both Maggie and Ahab exclaimed this 
time. 

Dana thought back to this conversation as she 
sat on the bleachers and giggled along with her 
classmates. She wasn't blind. She knew the majority of 
girls on the cheerleading squad liked Fox. She could 
see the way they fluttered around him, trembling with 
nervous laughter when they spoke to him. 

She also knew that Diana Fowley liked him, and 
she had already identified the older girl as her key 
competition. Diana wasn't like the other girls, not 
even like Melissa. She was dark and mysterious and a 
little more mature. Dana saw the way that the other 
boys stopped to stare when Diana slunk down a hallway. 

She was smart too, which pissed Dana off. She 
hadn't felt terribly threatened by the other 
cheerleaders, because while most of them were 
stunningly attractive, they were unable to hold their 
own in a conversation that went beyond flirting and 
pop culture. 

Diana was different. She could remain cool, calm 
and collected while she debated an intellectual issue, 
and look damn good while she did it. 

When she passed her in the hallway, Dana 
couldn't help but size herself up to Diana and find 
herself lacking. She was almost a foot shorter, had 
stubborn red hair instead of the other girl's gleaming 
brunette, and her damn braces prevented her from 
presenting a lovely smile. She had also failed, as of 
yet, to develop other...attributes, the likes of which 
Diana flaunted quite readily. 

It was disheartening. And as Dana sat in the 
bleachers and watched Diana cheer with the rest of the 
squad, twisting that lithe body into a variety of 
impossible poses, she felt a tiny bubble of resentment 
begin to simmer in her chest. 

"I hate her," she growled, to no one in 
particular.

"Ooh, who?" the girl next to her asked, craning 
her neck. "Diana Fowley?" 

Dana looked over at her sheepishly. 

"Everyone hates her," the girl said with an 
unapologetic shrug. "She swiped Jen's boyfriend right 
out from under her nose." 

A quick glance around the stadium confirmed that 
a large number of the girls were looking at Diana with 
malevolent intent. A second glance revealed that an 
equally large number of boys were gazing at her with a 
lovelorn expression. 

Great.

"So," the other girl leaned in, eager grin on 
her face. "You think she's after Fox?" 

"What?" 

"Well, you two are...you know...right?" 

"No...we're just friends." 

The girl looked equally startled and pleased. 
"Really? Oh, everyone just assumed...I mean, Diana 
certainly *does* seem to like him, I just figured that 
was why you...oh never mind." She turned and poked the 
girl next to her. "Fox is single!" 

"Really?" the other girl said, eyes lighting up. 
She turned to poke the girl next to her. 

Dana sighed and rested her chin on her hands, 
focusing her attention back on the game. The sound of 
someone clearing their throat caused her to look up.

"Mind if I sit here?" The voice belonged to 
Walter, one of Missy's tremendously attractive 
friends. 

Dana blinked, startled. "Sure." 

The girls next to her sighed in unison as he sat 
down. 

"How does she do it?" someone asked, irritated, 
behind her.

"I don't know. I mean, I think I'm prettier than 
her, right?"

"You are *totally* prettier than her." 

Dana sighed and tuned them out, turning instead 
to Walter. "So what brings you to the game today?" 

He shrugged. "I was talking to your sister, and 
she mentioned you'd be here tonight." 

She blinked, startled, and turned to look at him 
closely. "You came here to sit with me or to watch my 
sister cheer?" 

"I came to watch the basketball game, actually," 
he said, propping his legs up on the step below him. 
"Of course, good company never hurt." 

She hoped he couldn't see her cheeks burn red 
under the poor gymnasium lighting. He had a pleasant, 
deep voice that rumbled underneath the ordinary gym 
sounds, the cheering, the pounding of the basketball 
and the squeak of sneakers on polished wood. 

They watched the game in silence for a few 
moments, and she was acutely aware of his eyes on her. 
After a moment she faltered and met his gaze. 

"Dana, I was wondering if you'd--" Walter was 
cut off as a basketball smacked him in the side of the 
head. He slumped down against the bleachers. 

The referee blew the whistle as teachers rushed 
over to make sure he was all right. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he said waving them away, 
looking more embarrassed than hurt. "Occupational 
hazard." 

"I'd feel better if you went down to the 
infirmary," one of the teachers insisted, tugging 
gently on his arm. 

He went, shooting an woozy half grin at Dana as 
he carefully stepped down off the bleachers. "Guess 
I'll catch you later." 

She watched him go with a mingled feeling of 
relief and disappointment. And when she turned her 
attention back towards the court, she saw Fox standing 
alone, staring up at her, his expression dark. 

*

"Did you do that on purpose?" Dana didn't like 
how her voice echoed down the empty halls as she 
hurried behind Fox after the game.

"The ball slipped," he said. 

She grabbed his arm and pulled him back to face 
her. "If you have something to say, say it." 

He held his hands up in the air. "The ball 
slipped. It happens." He noted her sour expression and 
shrugged. "I'll send him a bundt cake." 

He turned on heel and left her standing in the 
hallway, alone and baffled by his glib comments. 

*

A week later, somewhere in the vicinity of three 
AM, Dana was awakened by a persistent tapping at her 
bedroom window. Regretfully, she abandoned her warm 
bed and went to see what all the fuss was about. 

Fox was standing in the yard, tossing pebbles up 
against the glass. 

"Hey," he said when she opened the window.

"I'm not talking to you," she said. 

"You can't stay mad at me forever," he shot her 
a crooked grin. "Besides, I need you to come with me." 

"Where?" she asked in spite of herself. 

"There's a ghost." 

"A what?"

"A ghost." 

"Ghosts don't exist," she rolled her eyes. "Good 
night."

"Wait!" he yelped, and she hesitated in shutting 
the window. "Prove me wrong, then." 

"You want me to sneak out of my house in the 
middle of the night to prove you wrong about ghosts?" 

"Yes." 

"Fox, it's February. It's freezing out." 

"Better wear a warm coat, then." 

"Mulder," she huffed in annoyance, as if saying 
his last name aloud would convey everything she wanted 
him to know. 

He looked amused. "Yes, *Scully?*" 

She paused to consider how strange that sounded. 
Her last name rolled off of his tongue as if he'd been 
calling her Scully for years. Which was ridiculous, 
the only person she knew who went by his last name was 
Charlie these days, because he'd seen it on a TV show 
and thought it sounded cool--

"You coming?" he interrupted her internal 
reverie. 

She thought about why her name sounded so odd to 
her own ears. And then she had it. "My dream." 

"Huh?" He was shivering in the cold now, 
shifting his weight from one foot to the other. 

"My dream. I was called Scully in my dream." 

"Fantastic. Can you come out the window now?"

"I think it was you who said it," she said, 
feeling suddenly dizzy.

"Well, it *is* your name," he pointed out. "Now 
will you get out here before the ghost goes away?" 

"Will you shut up?" she hissed. "You're going to 
wake my parents!"

"Please. They'd sleep through a nuclear 
holocaust. Your sister sneaks out every night and they 
never so much as budge." 

She crossed her arms. "How the hell would you 
know that?" 

The smile faded from his face, disappearing into 
the flickering shadows. "I come by sometimes." 

"To see Melissa?" 

"No." 

"Then why?"

He shrugged. "I just walk. Sometimes I walk past 
your house." 

"In the middle of the night." 

"Yes." 

"That doesn't make any sense. When do you 
sleep?"

His laugh was humorless in the cold night air. 
"I don't, really." 

Suddenly, inexplicably sorrowful, Dana turned 
away from the window. "I'll be right out." She pulled 
on her jeans in the dark, bundling up in a sweater and 
a thick winter coat. 

He was waiting quietly by the street when she 
shimmied out of her window and used a tree for 
leverage to clamber to the ground. 

"You could use some practice at that," he said. 

"Yes, well I enjoy my sleep," she scowled. 

He nodded and began walking, sneakers slapping 
unhurriedly on the frozen ground. His hands were in 
his pockets and he whistled softly. 

Dana watched him for a moment, torn between 
wanting to hug him and wanting to whack him upside the 
head for waking her up. He could be so damn 
unpredictable. 

He was like the sea, she realized. His moods 
shifted and changed like the tides, playful and 
charming one minute, dark and angry the next. She knew 
he had a lot of pain inside of him, as evidenced by 
the fact that there were times he just didn't want to 
go home. On occasion her parents practically needed to 
pry him from their dinner table and send him on his 
way. 

"Fox?" 

"Hmm?"

"Why didn't you ask the boys on your little 
ghost hunt?"

He shrugged. "Cause asking you seemed like the 
thing to do." 

She considered that for a moment before speaking 
again. "Where is this ghost of yours, anyway?"

"Up the block," he pointed to an imposing brick 
structure.

"That's Principal Kersh's house," she said, 
dread seeping in. "You can't possibly think--"

"I saw it," he said. "I walk these streets 
almost every night. The past three nights in a row 
there's been a flickering light in the upstairs 
window."

"Well, maybe he has a bad light fixture or 
something." 

"Haven't you noticed how haggard he's looked at 
school lately? Trust me, the man is being driven out 
of his mind with terror." 

"Obviously, that's the conclusion you would jump 
to." 

"You believe in the Bermuda Triangle, Scully?" 
he asked, her last name rolling off of his tongue in a 
teasing fashion.

"Well, I know for a fact it exists. I just don't 
believe any of the stories about it." 

"How about Bigfoot? Aliens? The boogeyman?"

"No, no and no." She sighed impatiently as he 
eased through the gate that hid Kersh's house from the 
street. 

"Why not?"

"Because they're fictional." 

"So, by that logic, ghosts would be fictional 
too." 

"Yes."

"So if you see a ghost tonight, are you gonna 
start believing in Bigfoot for me?"

"Why in the world would you care if I believed 
in Bigfoot?"

He laughed, moving stealthily across the shadowy 
front lawn. Surprising herself with her lack of 
hesitation, she followed. 

"You speak as if you honestly expect to 
encounter a ghost tonight," she said as she came to 
rest in a tangled snarl of frozen foliage. 

"Why wouldn't I?" 

"You mean this wasn't an elaborate ploy to get 
me to start speaking to you again?" 

He smiled, and his teeth were very white in the 
moonlight. "Did it work?" 

"Yes. And now lets get out of here before you 
incur the wrath of our principal." 

"Oh, no. There's still the matter of that 
ghost." 

"Still with the ghost," she sighed impatiently. 

"There," he said, pointing to an unearthly blue 
light that flickered from a third floor window. 

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully, ceasing all 
movement. The light was peculiar, dancing and 
shimmering across the frosty pane of glass like cold 
blue fire.

Without any warning, Mulder grabbed onto the 
latticework on the side of the house and began 
climbing towards the window. 

"What are you doing?" she hissed, horrified. 

"I brought a camera," he said through clenched 
teeth. "I'm gonna take a picture of it and have the 
boys publish it in the school paper." 

"You've got to be kidding me." 

He was silent as he climbed up the rest of the 
way, dangling precariously from the windowsill. 

"So? What do you see?" 

"It's--oh crap--" 

"What?" 

The window slid open and something grabbed him 
by the shoulders, jerking him inside. He let out a 
muffled yelp.

"Fox!" She screamed, launching herself onto the 
latticework and climbing frantically towards the 
window. Her first, irrational thought was that 
something had eaten him. When she reached the window, 
she pressed one hand against the cold glass, straining 
to see. 

The window shrieked open again, and she found 
herself staring into the furious, beady eyes of 
Principal Kersh. 

CONTINUED IN PART 3

TITLE: Everything Old is New Again (3/4)
AUTHOR: Susanna Starz

*

She sat on the stiff leather couch with Fox, the two 
of them close but not touching, staring at the floor. 
Kersh paced in front of them, his hands clenching and 
unclenching. 

"Of all the things...of all the stunts...and believe 
me, I've seen a lot of stunts in my time, this is the 
worst. What could have possibly possessed you to 
commit such a gross invasion of privacy?" 

"There was a ghost," Fox tried weakly.

"I don't want to hear it!" Kersh looked as though he 
might spontaneously combust. "I've been having trouble 
sleeping. I find the blue light of the television 
screen immensely relaxing. That's ALL it was." 

"We were just concerned for your safety, sir," Dana 
tried. 

"You should consider yourself lucky that I only called 
your parents and not the police." 

As if on cue, the bright beams of car headlights cut 
through the shadows that swathed the room. Dana felt 
her heart sink into her stomach as Kersh opened the 
door to admit the pale, stern faces of William and 
Maggie Scully. The sight of fresh tear tracks on her 
mother's cheeks made her own face glow red with shame. 

"Your daughter--" Kersh began, his voice trembling 
with rage.

"We appreciate the seriousness of this situation," 
Ahab cut in, his voice low and level. "And also the 
fact that you chose to apprise us of the situation 
rather than call in the authorities. Rest assured that 
we will deal with our daughter in the manner that we 
see fit." 

"I'm sorry--" Dana said, but was cut off by a 
withering glare from Principal Kersh.

"Detention. One week." He glanced sourly at Mulder. 
"Both of you." 

"Dana," her mother said, inclining her head towards 
the door. 

Hanging her head, Dana followed her parents out into 
the night, leaving Fox alone in Kersh's cavernous 
living room. 

*

The silence in her parent's station wagon was 
overwhelming. Dana sat in the back, forehead pressed 
against the cool glass, miserably watching the scenery 
flash by. 

"Mom, I--"

"Dana," her mother held up her hand. "I cannot discuss 
this with you right now. When we get home, I want you 
to go straight up to bed. We'll talk in the morning." 

"I--" 

"Dana!" Her mother's voice was tear choked and near 
the breaking point. She let out a muffled sob. "Of all 
my children, you've always been the one I worried 
about the least, did you know that?"

Dana hung her head. "No," she mumbled.

"You've always been so level headed. And to go and do 
a thing like this--do you have any idea how terrifying 
it is to receive a phone call at four in the morning? 
To realize that your daughter isn't in her bed?"

"I'm sorry." 

"Do you..." her mother's voice cracked. "Do you do 
this often? Go out like that?" 

"No," Dana said, "Never." 

"I wish I could believe that," she sighed. "I don't 
know what to believe right now. Breaking into the 
principal's house?!"

"That wasn't why--"

As the car swung around the curve towards their house, 
the headlights cut through the inky blackness, 
illuminating a startled figure that was climbing 
towards the second story window. 

Melissa, hair mussed, tired expression on her pale 
face, stared wide-eyed at the car that pulled up in 
the driveway. 

Dana heard her father's muttered expletive, saw her 
mother hang her head and bury her face in her hands 
and ask plaintively, "What is going *on* with this 
family?"

And all Dana could do was stare with a slight smile, 
relieved that the fortuitous timing had taken the 
attention off of her, locking eyes with Missy for one 
brief moment. "Busted." 

*

Fox looked inordinately chipper for a young man in 
detention, Dana realized with growing paranoia. She, 
herself unaccustomed to being in trouble, had slunk 
into the small classroom reserved for those children 
who demonstrated ill behavior with barely an 
embarrassed nod to the teacher assigned to observe 
them. 

She'd opened her notebook and quietly set about 
copying lines off of the blackboard when he'd entered, 
his step unusually jaunty. He'd saluted the bored-
looking teacher in the front of the room before moving 
to the desk next to Dana and sliding into it with a 
little grunt. 

"Hello," he said brightly, even though she'd seen him 
in the hallway less than an hour previously. 

"No talking," the teacher admonished.

Dana frowned, and then scribbled something on a piece 
of paper, handing it to Fox when no one was looking. 


*What are you plotting?*

He let loose a chuckle at reading her words, 
scribbling back and handing her the paper. 

*What makes you think I'm plotting anything?*

She merely raised her eyebrows at him, which made him 
chuckle again. He settled back into his seat, looking 
much too pleased with himself. 

The teacher monitoring their detention yawned and 
stood up, meandering in the direction of the restroom. 

Dana turned to scowl at Fox. "What did you do?" 

"Nothing, nothing." 

She shook her head, not in the mood to play games. "My 
parents were so mad at me. I thought I was going to be 
grounded until I turned thirty." 

"Are you?"

"Grounded 'till I'm thirty?" she smirked, shaking her 
head. "Actually, no." 

He looked impressed. "How did you pull that off?" 

"We happened to arrive home at the precise moment my 
sister was sneaking back through the window." 

Mulder snorted. "I told you so." 

"I'm telling you, in the ensuing battle, all the 
yelling probably woke up everyone in a three mile 
radius. They completely forgot about me." 

"So how come you're looking so glum?" He folded his 
arms across his chest and leaned casually back in his 
seat. "If I were you, I'd have been wearing a shit-
eating grin all day." 

The smile faded from her face. "I still did something 
wrong. We should never have done what we did, we--"

"It's my fault," he said quickly, looking down. "I put 
you in an awkward position and I apologize." 

She blinked. "Well, that was delightfully 
straightforward." 

"What do you mean?"

"I'd assumed your version of an apology consisted of 
showing up outside my window at three in the morning 
and dragging me off on a ghost hunt." 

"Yeah, well I like to keep things unpredictable." 

"I dread the next time you manage to offend me," she 
twisted her face into an expression of mock horror.

"Do I do that a lot?"

"Do what?"

"Offend you." 

The mood had changed again, she realized, she'd been 
so caught up in the banter that she'd neglected to 
spot the receding of his internal tide, the slow 
washing away of good humor that ran and puddled into 
reflective pools of self-doubt. 

"No," she said quickly, irritated that he always 
managed to make her want to comfort him, even when she 
was mad at him. Not for the first time, she wondered 
how steady, uncomplicated Dana Scully had managed to 
choose such a mercurial person for a best friend. 

Or why someone whose moods changed like the tides, who 
came and went on pure impulse, would bother to spend 
time with someone like her. 

Truth be told, she couldn't imagine herself 
befriending someone like him willingly. His appearance 
in her life was sudden and unexpected and she'd 
accepted it as though it made perfect sense. 

It didn't make sense, she realized for the first time. 
They'd struck up a conversation on the first day of 
school and from that point on had spent every waking 
moment together. 

But...why? 

The details were fuzzy in her mind. What had they 
talked about, that had made them such fast friends? 
She couldn't remember, for the life of her. Her 
recollections of their friendship did not sharpen 
until at least a month after they'd met. Then she 
could easily recall afternoons spent doing homework in 
her bedroom while her stereo serenaded them. Dinners 
that he ate at her house because he just never seemed 
to want to go home. The look on his face when he'd 
finally told her about his missing little sister, 
about his parents' estrangement, about how he felt 
like a stranger in his own home. The fact that they'd 
never, ever so much as kissed, no matter how badly she 
wanted to.

She'd blamed the braces. 

But now she wondered if it was something different. If 
he, too, was a little fuzzy on the early details of 
their friendship and was holding back because of it. 

She stared at him for a long moment, studying his 
handsome face with a much more intense scrutiny than 
she usually favored him with. Before she could speak, 
the teacher returned, the sound of him clearing his 
throat almost deafening in the silent room.

"Time's up. You can go." 

And as Dana stood up to leave the room, Fox rummaged 
in his backpack and tossed a copy of the school 
newspaper at her. 

On the cover, proudly smiling for the camera, was a 
mortifying picture of Principal Kersh in his 
underwear, striking a model's pose.

"Fox," she said, covering her mouth with horror. "You 
didn't." 

He grinned, and she finally understood why he'd looked 
so pleased with himself. "Swiped it off of his bedroom 
dresser when I realized he was going to make our lives 
a living hell." 

She let a little giggle escape, even though she really 
didn't approve, and the confused doubts that had 
plagued her mind vanished like the fluttering of 
butterfly wings.

*
February passed, Dana moved gracefully from fourteen 
to fifteen in the riot of a family birthday 
celebration, and things continued as usual until one 
morning she awakened with a peculiar name on her lips:

"Ronald Stark!" 

Dana sat up gasping, the name on her lips. Her bedroom 
was dark and silent, the only light filtering in from 
the streetlamp through her bedroom window. She was 
drenched with sweat, and she looked down and slowly 
unclenched her white-knuckled fists from twisted bed 
sheets.

She remembered nothing of her dream, but the name 
she'd woken up screaming hung in her mind, almost 
tangible. 

It was a Saturday night early in March, the air 
outside beginning to lose it's winter chill and take 
on the essence of approaching spring, and she briefly 
entertained the idea of slipping outside and going in 
search of Fox. 

She forced herself to calm. *Just a dream.* There was 
no reason to rile herself up and risk punishment over 
a dream that she couldn't even remember. 

When she fell asleep again, she did not dream.

*

"Do you know anyone named Ronald Stark?" She asked her 
parents over breakfast on Sunday morning, taking pains 
to keep her voice as casual as possible. 

"Ronald Stark?" Her mother said the name softly, 
seeming to turn it over in her mind. "No, it doesn't 
ring any bells. Why?" 

"I thought I heard someone talking about him," Dana 
said. "Must have just been a dream." 

"Who are you dreaming about?" Melissa asked 
mischievously as she poked her head into the kitchen. 

Dana stuck her tongue out at her, and yet her 
subconscious would not rest. As soon as she'd said the 
name out loud her mind had seized it again, worrying 
at it, refusing to let it rest. Ronald Stark. Ronald 
Stark. RonaldStark. ronaldstarkronaldstarkronaldstark.

Dana rubbed her eyes and stood up from the table, 
quietly sliding the phone book off of the nearby 
shelf. She flipped through the S pages, sliding her 
finger down the margin until she came to STARK. 

There were three Ronald Starks listed in the white 
pages. 

Glancing cautiously over her shoulder, Dana noted that 
her family was busy teasing each other over something 
Missy had said. Satisfied that no one was paying 
attention to her, she hurried up the stairs towards 
her room, picking up the phone and cradling it against 
her ear. 

For some reason, the sound of the dial tone set her 
heart pounding in her chest. She started to dial the 
first number, her finger trembling on the keys.

One ring. Two. 

"Hello?" A woman's voice. She sounded young.

Dana hung up the phone, panting. Some intuition, 
deeply buried, told her that the Ronald Stark she was 
seeking lived alone. 

She dialed the second number, taking several steadying 
breaths. 

One ring. Two. Three. Four.

*He's not going to answer,* she thought with a wild 
sort of panic. 

"Hello?" the voice in her ear was rough from disuse. 
He drew in heavy breaths, punctuated by a wet cough. 

"Ronald Stark?" she asked, her voice shaking. She 
already knew the answer.

There was a long pause. When he spoke again, his voice 
was curious, almost like a child's. "Who is this?" 

"My name is Dana, Dana--"

"Scully," he finished for her. "How interesting." 

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"You tell me," he said, and hung up. 

She stood, alone in her room, sweat beaded on her 
face, entire body trembling. *This is ridiculous,* she 
told herself, he's just got Caller ID, that's how he 
knows your name--

But it was something different. She felt it in her 
gut.

Before she was even fully aware of her actions, she 
was slipping on her coat, tucking the page with Ronald 
Stark's telephone number and address into her jean 
pocket and heading downstairs and out the door. 

"Dana, where are you going?" her father called.

"Library," she tossed over her shoulder, amazed at how 
easily the lie came. 

She dug her bike out of the garage; the day was mild 
enough that she could derive some enjoyment out of 
being outdoors. As she pedaled down her block, she 
considered calling Fox, leading him on this wild goose 
chase as a sort of payback for the mess he'd gotten 
her into the previous month. 

But for some reason she wanted to keep this to 
herself. She rode her bike past Fox's house without 
stopping, pedaled past the school and through the busy 
business district of town. 

The address she wanted lay about seven miles from her 
house, in a lousy part of town. The logical part of 
Dana began to shout at her as she brought her bike to 
rest in front of a ramshackle house with a weed choked 
yard, but the hum of her subconscious pushed her 
forward. 

She had barely made it up the sagging front steps when 
the tattered screen door flew open to reveal a wild-
looking man, with shaggy gray hair and slightly crazed 
eyes. He was clad in a stained t-shirt, a pair of gray 
flannel pants, and an oversized bathrobe, and he held 
an enormous cup of coffee in one hand. 

"Dana Scully," he said, his tone delighted. There was 
a whiff of something foul on his breath.

She took a step back, his appearance enough to quell 
the persistent stirrings of her subconscious. This was 
not wise, she knew. She'd read enough stories about 
foolish young girls lured into dangerous situations, 
and this insane-looking man who knew her full name and 
who was stepping aside from his door to admit her into 
his house was certainly sending up more than a few red 
flags. 

And yet, she was so very curious. 

She stepped inside the narrow, dark house, standing 
just in the doorway, close enough to the screen to 
feel the gentle March breeze. 

"Do I know you?" she asked him. 

"Do you?" he echoed, looking her closely in the face. 
"I daresay, you're not what I expected."

"How could you possibly know what to expect?" 

He studied her curiously for a moment. "The bruises 
have faded. I can't show you what you did to me." 

"What I did to you?" She shook her head. "I don't 
understand." 

But for a moment, his face flickered in front of her, 
and she saw him in a different place, in a well-lit 
hallway, screaming and thrashing like a man possessed. 
She was holding him, pressing his arms behind his 
back, subduing him against the wall while he kicked 
and bit--

She shook her head and her vision cleared. When she 
spoke again, her voice was breathless. "Who are you?"

He looked terribly amused. "The real question you 
should be asking yourself is, who are *you*?" 

"I...I already know who I am." 

"Do you?" He raised his eyebrows and took a swig of 
coffee. "Do you mean to tell me you're perfectly 
content? Someone who has no questions would not have 
come here, would never have come inside my house, 
never stand so closely to a man such as myself." 

"I don't know why I came," she faltered. "I had a 
dream...I'm obviously mistaken...I should go." She 
turned and moved back towards the door but he sprang, 
catlike, surprisingly quick for his size. His hand 
pressed the door shut and she caught a glimpse of 
filthy fingernails before he had grabbed her throat. 

"You do know why you came," he hissed, his face inches 
away from hers, so she could see the yellowed 
discoloration of his teeth, smell the foul air from 
his mouth. His breath tickled her lips and she cringed 
away. 

He seemed to reconsider, loosening his grip on her and 
allowing her to back against the wall. 

"Ever feel like something's amiss? Like there are 
connections that you just can't quite make?" 

She found herself nodding, trying desperately to quell 
the frantic pounding of her heart. 

The man surprised her by smiling, his lips twisting 
upward in an expression that erased the terrible 
insanity from his face. "Good." 

"Good?"

"Good for you," he said sourly, turning away and 
disappearing into the cluttered interior of his home. 
"Bad for me, bad for you, good for me," his voice 
turned sing-song as he rustled around in the kitchen. 
"I was a scientist once, you know," he called out to 
her. 

She stood, her back pressed tightly up against the 
door, attempting to will her hand to turn the knob to 
release herself back into the cool air. 

Instead, she found herself answering him. "How would I 
know?"

"You came here without doing your research?" There was 
a laugh from the kitchen. "Tsk, tsk. For a girl with 
such spunk, you've shown remarkably poor judgment." He 
appeared again in the hallway, his movements lightning 
quick. In an instant he had her pinned up against the 
wall, his breath hot on her face.

"I could be a pedophile, for all you know," he hissed. 

She cringed away, her heart thudding as he leaned in 
closer, his fingers tightening painfully on her wrist. 

Then, so fast she almost didn't realize she was doing 
it, she brought her wrist over her head, twisting his 
arm sideways while she swiped his legs clean out from 
under him with her foot. He hit the ground with a 
terrible thud, releasing her arm in shock. 

She stood, gasping for breath, astonished at her own 
strength, at her capacity for maneuvers she'd seen in 
movies but surely never learned. The man on the ground 
wheezed and attempted to sit up. His eyes were 
gleaming. "Bet you didn't know you could do that." 

She turned and ran through the front door, sucking in 
great, shuddering breaths of the cool air. Then she 
collided into a figure, felt arms encircle her waist, 
and she screamed. 

*

"Stop! It's me, it's just me!" Fox said, holding her 
shoulder firmly until she stopped her flailing. "What 
happened?"

"That man--" she looked over her shoulder at the 
house, which sat ominously on its patch of dead grass. 
"I want to get out of here."

She hurried over to her bike and began to pedal, Fox 
following on his own bike. He did not press her to 
speak further, and as they made their way back towards 
familiar territory she finally began to collect her 
nerves. 

By the time they'd stopped in front of the park, she 
was capable of speaking. 

"How did you find me?" she asked him, her brows 
knitting together in confusion. 

"Oh," he looked suddenly bashful, glancing down at his 
feet. "I followed you." 

"You--you *followed* me? Why?"

"I was riding my bike around and I saw you leave. I 
figured I'd see where you were going." 

"And you never said anything?" 

He shrugged again. "You seemed like you wanted to be 
alone." 

She huffed. "I did. I *was* alone, or so I thought. 
That was a lousy thing to do, Fox!" 

He shrugged indifferently, dismounting his bike and 
moving to lean against the fence. "Who was that guy 
you were in such a hurry to get away from?" 

She chewed her lip as she stared at him. "I don't 
really know. It's...weird."

"I can handle weird," he gave her a quirky smile. 

"Something I thought I had to do," she said vaguely, 
tilting her head up to the sky and reveling in the 
feel of the spring sun on her face. For a brief 
moment, inside Ronald Stark's house, she'd feared 
she'd never see the light of day again. "But it 
doesn't make any sense." 

"When I saw you go inside I figured you might be in 
some trouble," he said finally. "So I hung around to 
wait."

"I handled myself," she said, her tone sharper than 
she'd intended. She frowned and glanced down. "I mean, 
I really handled myself. It was like I was trained."

He smiled teasingly at her. "Are you sure you aren't 
the product of some government experiment?" 

She shivered, rubbing her arms, remembering the raw 
power that had sprang so unexpectedly from her limbs. 
The easy, practiced way she'd tossed the much larger 
man to the ground. "Sometimes I wonder." 

"You find what you were looking for?" He asked with a 
tilt of his head. 

"No," she smiled weakly. "The guy was crazy. Nothing 
more, nothing less." 

But something still gnawed at the back of her mind, 
puzzle pieces that drifted without a home. 

He seemed to pick up on her hesitation. "You sure 
that's all?" 

She nodded, banishing her doubts to the farthest 
reaches of consciousness. "I don't know what else it 
could have been." She turned and frowned at him, hands 
on her hips. "I still think it was lousy of you to spy 
on me like that." 

Her adrenaline was pumping, now that she was safely 
removed from danger. She was raring for a fight. 

And then Fox had to go and shock the hell out of her 
by kissing her. 

For a moment, every thought in her mind fled, and Dana 
Scully found herself experiencing her very first kiss. 
It was sweet and short and not at all what she'd 
expected. Fox's lips were cool and firm and pressed 
against hers innocently, gently. He did not lift his 
hands from his side, and when he pulled back he stood 
with a strange little smile on his face, eyes 
downcast. 

Her cheeks burned and she became aware of the fact 
that her hands had clenched into fists from nerves. 
She slowly released the breath she'd been holding and 
stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Hi," he said. 

She laughed. "Hi." 

"Well, I'll see you in school tomorrow." And then he 
was gone. 

Dana walked home slowly, unable to wipe the grin off 
of her face. The traumatic events of the morning had 
bled away into a haze of giddiness that threatened to 
have her bursting into song if she didn't get a hold 
of herself. 

"What got into you?" Bill asked as she drifted through 
the front door and into the kitchen. 

"That's the look of love if I've ever seen it," Missy 
exclaimed, leaping up from the table and pouncing. 
"Spill. What happened?" 

Dana glanced suspiciously over her shoulder before 
grabbing her sister's wrist and pulling her to a 
corner of the living room. "Fox kissed me." 

"Well it's about freakin' time!" Missy clapped her 
hands together, giggling. "I swear, I was beginning to 
think Bill's gay theory was right." 

"Missy!" Dana laughed, feeling inexplicably light-
hearted. She felt like she could float like this 
forever. 

"Walter will be terribly disappointed," Missy smirked. 
"He's had such a crush on you." 

"He has not!"

"Has too! He told me all about it," Missy's voice was 
teasing as she backed away, skipping in a circle 
around Dana. "He was going to ask you out at the 
basketball game before he got whacked in the head."

Feeling mildly guilty about that one, Dana glanced 
away. 

Missy was still laughing hysterically. "Hey, Bill!"

"No!" Dana was suddenly mortified. "No, don't tell--"

"Dana's got a boyyyyfriend!" 

"She's what?"

"She's got a boyyyyyfriend!"

"Don't tell me that dopey freshman got off his ass and 
finally made a move," Bill came into the room, 
towering over them both. "I really thought he was gay-
-"

"Oh Bill," Missy rolled her eyes, "You were just 
hopeful." 

"I was NOT!" Bill turned purple, lunging towards her. 
"I swear to god Missy, I hope you don't talk like that 
in front of anyone at school!" 

Missy laughed and danced out of reach, still holding 
Dana's arm and pulling her into an elaborate twirl. 
"Oh come on Billy," she said, her voice imitating an 
old woman. "Be happy for our dear Dana here. She's 
finally decided to come out of her shell and not be 
such an insufferable dork--"

"Hey!" Dana said, unable to stop herself from laughing 
at her sister's antics. "I'm not a dork!"

"You're a dork," Bill nodded. "You have a chemistry 
set." 

"HAD a chemistry set," Dana said with a pointed look 
at Missy.

"Still sore about that, I see," Missy rolled her eyes. 
"Honestly, I did you a favor."

"Should we tell mom?" Bill asked, looking mischievous.

"No!" Dana tried again.

"I'll tell her!" Missy chirped, moving towards the 
door. 

"Not if I tell her first!" Bill muscled her out of the 
way.

"MOM!" 

"Dana's got--"

"A boyfriend!" 

They thundered into the kitchen to find a very 
startled Maggie Scully, who was just coming in the 
front door with groceries. She looked at Dana's 
mortified face and just smiled.

*

In April, Dana finally got her braces off. 

Her teeth felt strange, light and brittle, 
unaccustomed to the lack of weight. Her jaw ached 
mildly, but it was a pain she eagerly welcomed. She 
spent long minutes gazing into the mirror, practicing 
several megawatt smiles, tapping her teeth with her 
fingernails to make sure it was all real. 

And when she saw Fox in the hallway the next day, she 
smiled coyly at him, wondering if he'd notice. He'd 
blinked at her, cocked his head to one side, and asked 
her if she'd done something different with her hair. 
Then he'd kissed her cheek and continued on towards 
her class. 

She'd spent the rest of the day stewing at his 
obliviousness, until she picked up a copy of the 
school paper and saw her own face smiling prettily on 
the cover, teeth perfectly white and straight. The 
headline read: BEAUTIFUL NEW SMILE BLINDS STUDENTS IN 
HALLWAY--SEVERAL MINOR INJURIES REPORTED. 

She'd ducked her head, embarrassed and pleased, when 
Melvin patted her on the shoulder and whispered that 
it had been all Fox's idea; that from early in the 
morning he'd had the three boys following her with a 
camera to capture the perfect picture of the perfect 
smile. 

The headline, Melvin puffed with pride, had been his 
own idea.

And so she'd gone and found Fox, who was leaning 
against the fence outside with a know-it-all grin. And 
she kissed that grin right off of his face, right in 
front of the other students. 

*

May brought a burst of nice weather, and also the joy 
of knowing there was only one more month left to the 
school year. Dana suffered through an embarrassing 
birds and bees talk with her parents. She had already 
begun to look anxiously towards the summer. She'd be 
participating for one month in an advanced science 
program at a local college, and Fox had already laid 
claim to her spare time. 

He promised countless adventures, and somehow she 
believed him. 

Bill had begun to fret about imminent graduation, and 
Missy had begun to panic over the junior prom. Every 
night she chattered Dana's ear off about the multitude 
of offers she'd gotten and *how was she ever to 
choose?!*

Dana allowed herself to think briefly of turning up at 
her eventual prom with Fox, although that was years 
away and she could only imagine it with the ardent 
imagination of an adolescent. 

She did not think of Ronald Stark. 

And it was one day, late in May, while Dana was 
fumbling with her books at her locker, that she felt a 
soft touch on her shoulder and turned to find herself 
eye to eye with a bashful looking Walter Skinner. 

"Hi," he said, smiling shyly. 

"Hi," she replied, wondering what on earth someone so 
handsome had to be so shy about. 

"Dana, I, uh, wanted to ask you a question," he said 
as she shut her locker and turned to face him. 

"Sure, anything," she said, her heart thudding. She 
remembered what Missy had said about him liking her, 
but that was months ago, surely he...

"Would you like to go to the prom with me?" his words 
tumbled out in a jumbled rush. "I mean, it's just the 
junior prom, but Missy will be there, and I thought it 
would be fun if...well you can say no if you want." 

"I..." she felt heat rising in her cheeks. Of course 
she would love to go to the prom. Who wouldn't? She 
forced herself to shake her head. "I don't think Fox 
would like that." 

"Right," Walter said quickly. "Probably not. Sorry." 
He turned and walked stiffly away. 

"Wait!" she called, but he didn't turn around. She 
felt terrible. He was so shy, and she'd just...

No. She couldn't do anything stupid because she was a 
little star struck around an upperclassman. 

*

"So Walter asked you to prom," Missy was grinning as 
she rushed up to Dana in the cafeteria. "He'd been 
trying to work up the nerves for weeks! What did you 
say?"

Dana shifted awkwardly. "Well, no, of course--" 

Missy's face fell. "Oh the poor boy!" 

"I already have a boyfriend," Dana said, feeling 
terribly unsophisticated. 

"Dana, honey, the important thing you need to know 
about high school is when to upgrade." 

"Upgrade?"

"You know, Fox is a sweet guy, and he's pretty hot, 
but Walter's sweet and hot AND a junior," Missy tossed 
her hair. "It's just high school, Dana. Not like 
you're gonna wind up marrying them." 

Someone gasped, and Dana turned to see the dark head 
of Fox Mulder stalking off through the crowds. 

*

"So he finally came to his senses and asked me," Diana 
Fowley said with a toss of her sleek hair, chewing 
coquettishly on a piece of gum as she told her story 
to a gaggle of other juniors. "I mean, I knew he'd 
come around." 

"So you're taking a freshman to prom?" one of the 
girls asked doubtfully.

Diana smiled coyly. "I think it'll be a good time. 
There's something more to him than most of the idiots 
in this place. We have a connection." 

Dana stood in the shadows of the locker room, one hand 
clamped against her mouth to keep from making a sound. 
Her shoulders were shaking with silent tears. 

"I bought these," Diana said in a low voice, rummaging 
in her purse. "Just in case." 

There was a chorus of giggles from the other girls as 
she produced a box of condoms, which she quickly 
stuffed back in her bag, looking slightly embarrassed. 

That was enough. With a determined tilt of her 
shoulders, keeping her head up just as her daddy had 
taught her, Dana stepped from the shadows and marched 
proudly past Diana and the other girls without 
favoring them with a glance. 

Once out in the hallway, she broke into a run, needing 
to get out of the building. 

"Whoah," Walter said, as she rounded a corner and 
skidded right into him. 

"I changed my mind," she said abruptly, setting her 
jaw. "I'd like to go to the prom with you, if you 
haven't already found someone else."

He looked delighted. "Yes, I mean no...I haven't asked 
anyone else." He favored her with a full, genuine 
smile. "This is going to be nice."

"Yeah," she said, not really meaning it, but trying to 
look happy for his sake. "Nice." 

*

Dana stewed in her bedroom, staring at the phone with 
a mixture of longing and disgust. It did not ring. 

A soft knock on her door heralded the arrival of 
Missy, who had the good grace to look somewhat 
sheepish. 

"Some day, huh?" she asked, sitting down on the bed 
next to Dana. 

That gentle prodding was all it took to get Dana to 
explode. "He didn't even TRY to talk to me! He just 
went and asked her!" She felt sick to her stomach. 

"Oh," Missy said, leaning over and gathering her 
sister into a much-needed hug. "He's just a stupid 
boy, Dana. There will be plenty more." 

*No there won't,* Dana thought miserably. There might 
be other boys, but they'd never be like Fox. He was 
something different altogether. 

"You know what's the best revenge?" Melissa said, her 
voice calm. "Living well. You go to that prom with 
Walter, and you'll look beautiful and he'll be so 
jealous he won't be able to see straight."

"I don't want to make him jealous," Dana sniffed. She 
wanted her best friend back. Whatever connection they 
had shared had seemed to go so much deeper than 
ordinary friendship, than ordinary romance. It was as 
if they'd known each other for years...

"It will be all right," Missy said, rocking her 
gently, and Dana buried her face into her sister's 
shoulder and let herself cry. For one, terrible 
moment, horrible thoughts invaded her mind. Missy was 
gone, gone forever, had left her all alone...

But of course, those were just thoughts. Missy was 
still very much present, holding her and rocking her 
and whispering gentle words of comfort. In that moment 
she seemed so solid, so strong.

It was as if nothing could ever harm her. 

*

"Hey," Dana called as she stood underneath the tree 
house in Ringo Langly's back yard.

"Hey," Ringo said, peering down at her through his 
glasses. "Oh. Oh jeez." 

"It's Dana," she heard John squeak, and moments later 
Melvin peeked his head out the door. 

"Hi there," Melvin said. "Want to come up?"

Dana ascended the rickety ladder and found herself in 
their cluttered little hideout. Stacks of 
incriminating pictures and scribbled notes littered 
the floor. 

"I'm surprised I'm not on the first page of this 
week's edition," she said sourly. 

"We wouldn't..." Melvin said.

"We like you," Ringo said with a shrug. 

"There are plenty of other people to skewer," John 
said. 

"We managed to obtain entrance to both the junior and 
senior proms," Melvin offered. "As official 
photographers." 

Ringo grinned evilly. "I can't wait to write this 
issue."

"Great," Dana said, looking at her feet. "Have you 
talked to Fox?" 

"Well..."

The three looked at each other. 

"He hasn't been around much," Melvin said.

"Off sulking," Ringo agreed.

"And he spends a lot of time with Diana." 

Ringo and Melvin swiveled their heads to glare at 
John, who flushed purple.

"Right," Dana said, finding the floor increasingly 
fascinating. "Well, I'll see you around." 

"You know," Melvin inched closer. "If you're 
lonely..."

"I'll see you around," she said, a little firmer this 
time, and hurried down the ladder before they saw her 
resolve break.

As she headed for home, she couldn't help but wonder 
if he showed up under Diana's window in the middle of 
the night and asked her to look for ghosts. 

Hell, he probably just crawled in her window and made 
out with her. No need to bother with formalities. 

She couldn't decide which would be worse. The thought 
of Diana running around the neighborhood in the dark, 
replacing her as a friend and fellow adventurer, or 
Diana replacing her as a girlfriend. 

Both made her heart ache. 

*

"You both look so beautiful," Maggie Scully said, her 
voice surprisingly emotional as she stood at the foot 
of the stairs with her husband and watched her two 
daughters descent. 

Dana hung back while Melissa swept down the stairs in 
a gorgeous, pale pink gown that just barely brushed 
the floor. Her hair was piled on top of her head, two 
curled tendrils hanging down on either side of her 
face. Around her neck hung a simple black ribbon, on 
which was fastened a small crystal. She looked 
radiant.

Feeling slightly shy in her own dress, Dana followed, 
allowing a smile to spread across her face as she saw 
Walter's beaming face from where he stood behind her 
parents. She was wearing a simple blue gown the color 
of her eyes, which hugged her blossoming curves and 
yet managed to make her feel impossibly elegant. Her 
mother had helped her with her hair, which hung in 
cascading curls down her back. 

"I got you a corsage," Walter said, fumbling around in 
his jacket pocket for the small carnation, which he 
carefully slipped around her wrist. It was pink. She 
stared at it for a moment. 

"Thank you."

"I thought...you might wear pink," he said with an 
awkward shrug and a glance towards the corsage. "But 
you look beautiful. Really, really beautiful." 

"Are you ready for a wonderful night?" Melissa asked 
her, a wide smile on her face.

*Yes,* Dana thought. *I am long overdue for a 
wonderful night.*

CONTINUED IN PART 4

TITLE: Everything Old is New Again (4/4)
AUTHOR: Susanna Starz


*

And it was a wonderful night. Walter was a perfect 
gentleman, escorting her proudly to the table they 
shared with Melissa, Chris and several other of 
Missy's friends. He twirled her on the dance floor 
with surprising grace, and she managed not to 
embarrass herself terribly with her poor dancing 
skills. 

And she found that not looking at Diana and Fox was 
something of a practiced art. 

When she first spied them, sitting close at a table 
near the corner, she sized up Diana's dress, taking 
inventory as girls were wont to do. She was dressed in 
pink silk that showed off every curve.

 Dana noticed with a lump in her throat that the 
corsage she wore was blue. 

After spotting him, she tried hard not to look. Tried 
hard not to watch him having a good time with someone 
else. Tried to focus on Walter, who was trying his 
damndest to impress her. 

For the most part, she was successful. But it was 
piss-poor timing that led her to the punch table just 
as Fox was strolling over to pour himself something to 
drink.

"Hey," she said, upon finding herself face to face 
with him. 

He looked at her, his expression inscrutable. Was he 
jealous? Angry? Indifferent? It was impossible to 
tell. His eyes were dark, unfathomable pools. "Hey." 

"You look like you're having fun," she said 
delicately, unable to believe that her voice was 
steady. Everything inside of her seemed to be shaking. 

"So do you," he said, with a jerk of his head in 
Walter's direction. "I wouldn't want to interfere." 

"Don't do that," she snapped.

He blinked. "Do what?"

"Make this my fault. You're the one who ditched me." 

"Ditched you? In case you don't remember, I bore 
witness to your illuminating lunchtime conversation 
with your sister," he hissed.

"If you'd bothered to speak to me instead of rushing 
headlong into stupidity, you would have figured out 
that I'd said no." 

He scowled, unable to relinquish his pride. "Maybe I 
wanted to go with Diana." 

She stepped back, stung. "Fine." 

"Walter's waiting," he said coldly.

"He is," she said, tilting her chin up proudly. "I 
guess this is it then." 

"Guess so." 

She stared at him for a long, terrible moment before 
turning on heel and walking away. She did not look 
back. 

"Hey," Walter said, as she neared. "Everything okay?"

"I think I'd just like to go home," she said, tears 
threatening. 

He studied her for a moment before nodding. "Let's 
go." 

As she followed Walter to the car, she couldn't stop a 
terrible feeling of dread invading her heart. The 
feeling that she'd lost something of great importance, 
some jagged piece of her soul that would never be 
replaced. 

It was stupid to feel this way about a breakup, she 
tried to reason with herself. But she didn't feel like 
a girl who'd just broken up with her boyfriend. 

She felt like a girl who was dying inside. She 
couldn't explain the heavy, momentous feeling of loss 
that washed over her. It felt more tragic than a 
simple breakup. It felt like the end of something much 
more, something she'd never been able to put a name 
to. 

*Christ, Dana, it's just a boy,* she told herself in 
Melissa's voice. *Not like you were going to end up 
marrying him.*

But still, the terrible, restless feeling had settled 
into her body and was there to stay. It was as if Fox 
Mulder represented far more than her first boyfriend. 
It was as if she was losing a part of herself. 

Walter pulled the car up to her driveway but did not 
make a move to step out. Something in her face must 
have clued him in to the fact that she did not share 
his interest at the present time. 

"Sorry about tonight," he said finally. 

"No, I had a wonderful night," she smiled through the 
tears that threatened to spill down her face. 
"Really." 

"You have a good night, Dana," he said gently, leaning 
over and kissing her cheek. When she stepped out of 
the car, he smiled at her for a moment before driving 
away into the night, leaving her alone with her 
thoughts. 

Her mind conjured up a thousand images of Fox in quick 
succession, the look on his face after he'd kissed her 
for the first time, his sheepish expression as he sat 
on the couch in Kersh's living room, awaiting his 
fate. The laughter in his eyes when he told her a 
particularly cheesy joke. His face, stubbled and 
haunted, gripping a gun and holding it at her--

Wait. He'd never held a gun on her. Hell, he couldn't 
even grow a beard yet. Where the hell had that come 
from--

"I love you." Him staring at her with the slightly 
loopy expression of the recently drugged, lying in a 
hospital bed. 

No...never happened...

His eyes, meeting hers through a haze of frozen green 
goo, the icy rush of artic air, the feeling of his 
lips on hers as he breathed life into her lungs--

Dana's legs gave out and she sank down onto the porch, 
unable to stop shaking. The images came, faster and 
faster.

"You made me a whole person." 

"That's why they put the I in FBI."  

Then, just as suddenly as they'd come, they were gone. 
She was left trembling and weak, staring up at the 
sky. Then, wobbling slightly on jelly legs, she let 
herself into the house.

Everyone was asleep. She trudged up the stairs slowly, 
as if underwater, kicking her heels off and feeling 
slightly satisfied as they clattered against the wall. 

A small sliver of light peeked out from under 
Charlie's door, and a need for human company caused 
her to push it open gently, finding him sitting in bed 
with a book in his lap.

"Hey," she said. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Waiting for you to come back," he said solemnly. "Mom 
fell asleep. She was worried." 

"Why was she worried?"

"She had a bad feeling," he shrugged. "How was the 
prom?" 

"Nice," she said, completely at a loss to what else 
she could say. "What are you reading?"

"Legend of Sleepy Hollow," he told her, offering the 
book to her. 

She took it from him, running her fingers over the 
yellowed pages. "This is one of Ahab's, right?" 

Charlie nodded. "Dad gave it to me a few weeks ago. 
Told me I'd like it." 

"The headless horseman," she said with a smile. 
Charlie loved horror stories. Then she froze.

"Dana?"

"The headless horseman," she said again, realization 
dawning on her. "Oh my god." 

"Are you all right?" Charlie eyed her suspiciously.

"I have to go," she said, dropping the book on the 
floor and sprinting out of the room. 

*

She ran in bare feet down the sidewalk, hair and dress 
whipping behind her in the wind. The prom would be 
over by now--they had to have gone somewhere else--

Of course, Diana's house. She ran down the other 
girl's street, lungs gasping for air, legs burning 
with fatigue. But still, she didn't slow. Mulder 
needed her. 

Mulder. How had she forgotten him? How had she 
forgotten herself? It all came back to her in a rush. 
Ronald Stark, the man she'd arrested in the hallway at 
FBI headquarters. The man who'd left the canister of 
gas in the heating duct. 

He'd seemed so surprised that she'd tracked him down. 
And she'd shocked herself with her impromptu self-
defense movement. But of course, she was a trained FBI 
agent. Such a reaction would be natural. 

And Mulder. Her poor, haunted partner. He'd been 
thrown back into the tumultuous waters of his 
childhood, and she'd nearly lost him because of 
adolescent emotions, *had* lost him because of 
adolescent emotions, and she needed to find him before 
he did something with Diana he'd regret--

Diana's house was dark. There were no signs of anyone 
awake inside. She came to a stop under the front 
window, gasping for breath, her lungs rattling for 
air. 

Still, she had to try. "MULDER!" Her voice was 
younger, but the tone was the same as always. She 
tried to cram six years worth of love, concern and 
respect into that yell. 

"What the hell do you want?" Diana Fowley's irritated 
voice drifted down from the window as she peered out, 
makeup washed clean, face exhausted.

"I need to talk to Mulder--to Fox--" Scully said. 
"It's urgent." 

"He's not here," Diana said sourly, slamming the 
window shut. 

Scully stared stupidly at the closed window for a 
moment. Not there? Then where the hell had he gone? 
She briefly toyed with the idea that Diana Fowley 
might be lying, and then she discarded the idea. She 
was pretty certain that if she had Mulder in her 
bedroom, the sixteen year old Fowley wouldn't have 
passed up a chance to gloat. 

Scowling, Scully turned away, kicking at a rock with 
her bare foot and wincing as it made contact with her 
toe. She felt so foolish. *How could she have 
forgotten Mulder?* It all made sense. The strange 
feeling of connection she'd always felt with him, the 
way she just couldn't seem to remember how they'd 
gotten to be such good friends. It was because her 
mind blocked it, couldn't find a way to wrap around 
the fact that they'd met in some other timeframe. 

And of *course* he'd be attracted to Fowley. She knew 
damn well that they'd been lovers in the past. Then 
she glanced ruefully down at her prom dress. Future, 
then. Or present. Honestly, she had no idea. But she 
needed to find him. 

A light glowed faintly in the tree house that hung in 
the back of Langly's yard and she climbed the ladder 
without bothering to shout out a greeting. 

"Hey!" Langly said when she stuck her head inside, 
looking startled. He was in the middle of passing a 
joint to Frohike, who coughed loudly. 

She ignored the smell of weed and fixed the three of 
them with a stony glare. "Where is he?"

"Ah..." Langly glanced around. "Would you like some 
nachos?" He gestured to the plate of congealed chips 
and cheese in the middle of the room. 

"No wonder you're all so paranoid," she said dryly. 
"Listen, I know this sounds crazy, but we're not who 
we are."

"Dana's drunk," Frohike said giddily. 

"I'm not drunk!" she snapped. "Listen boys, I'm a 
little surprised you haven't already gotten to the 
bottom of this. I'm not fourteen. I'm an FBI agent." 

"Sure you are," Langly nodded. "And I'm the pope." 

"Oh for the love of god!" She grabbed the joint out of 
his hand and chucked it into the darkness outside of 
the tree house. "Now will you listen to me?" 

"We were thinking of pooling our money and buying a 
car," Byers said in his prepubescent voice. "Something 
cool, like a--"

"Volkswagen bus," Scully said flatly.

"How did you know that?"

"Because you already have one!"

Langly peered eagerly over her shoulder. "We do?"

"Not out there," she growled. "In the future. 
Or...present...or whatever. It doesn't matter. What 
matters is that we were all exposed to some kind of 
gas and it's affecting us." 

They were all staring her as if she was insane. And as 
she considered her words, she didn't blame them. A 
little twinge of doubt hit her then--perhaps she was 
having a breakdown, some sort of mental attack brought 
on by her traumatic experience at the prom--but she 
forced those thoughts away. She did not believe in 
things lightly, but when she made up her mind about 
something she stuck with it. 

"Don't you remember?" she asked them, looking at each 
young face in turn. "Mulder and I work at the FBI. You 
help us out. You have your own newspaper--The Lone 
Gunman." 

"That's a cool name," Langly said, and the other two 
nodded in agreement, perhaps filing it away for future 
use. 

She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. "It 
wasn't so long ago that you came into the building and 
told me that Mulder had gone off to the Bermuda 
Triangle in search of a ship. Don't you remember? I 
found the coordinates and then we went to find him!" 

"The Queen Ann," Byers said automatically, and then 
his jaw dropped in astonishment. He shook his head as 
if to clear it. "I don't know why I said that." 

"You said that because you were there!" She closed her 
eyes. How long ago had that been? Only weeks until 
she'd woken up in a fourteen year old's body. But 
since then--almost a year. My god, had it really been 
that long? She'd woken up on a brisk September morning 
and gone off to her first day of school. It was now a 
balmy day in late May. Nine months. Nine months spent 
in her mind. 

"Mulder hired you," she continued, forcing them to 
listen. "You were in the heating ducts over our old 
office with camera equipment, spying on Spender and 
Fowley."

"I can understand spying on Fowley," Frohike said.

"But Spender?" Langly rolled his eyes. "That dumb 
kid?" 

"Would you listen to me!" She exclaimed. "He's not a 
kid anymore. None of us are!" 

"She always seemed so normal," Langly muttered. 

"Oh forget it," she said, turning and clambering down 
the ladder. She hit the ground running, making her way 
through the darkened streets towards Mulder's house. 

The house was dark, no signs of movement within. It 
hit her as she made her way through the yard that 
she'd never been there before. She'd walked past it 
with him, but never ventured inside; never met his 
parents. Scully could have smacked herself. Why had 
she never found that strange? When Mulder--Fox, 
really--had spent every day after school at her house, 
doing homework and eating dinner with her family. 
They'd never met the Mulders. Her parents had never 
expressed interest in meeting them. She'd seen Teena 
Mulder once, from a distance, dropping Fox off at 
school one late morning.

She'd never so much as glimpsed Bill Mulder. Of 
course, it made sense. She'd never met him while he 
was alive. Her mind couldn't conjure up someone she'd 
never known. 

But Mulder had met Ahab, hadn't he? Hadn't he eaten 
dinner with the Scully clan so many times after 
school, laughed at her brother's jokes--*hadn't he?*

Had he just seen an empty chair when he'd looked 
across the room?

The thought made her shudder, it made her want to turn 
around and run back to her house and hug her father 
and sister and never, ever let go. But she pressed on, 
setting her jaw in a grim line. 

There was a faint odor of cigarette smoke hanging in 
the air. She followed it to a solitary figure sitting 
on the back porch, clad in a white nightgown and 
slippers, a single Morely clutched in one slim, white 
hand. 

"Hello," Teena Mulder said, not looking at all 
surprised to see her skulking around in the yard in a 
prom dress. 

"Hi," Scully said, feeling a chill run down her spine. 
She knew Teena Mulder, but barely. She'd spent an 
awkward afternoon in another lifetime with her after 
Mulder had run off and left her at the house once, but 
beyond that...

"You're looking for Fox," Teena said, blowing out a 
wispy cloud of smoke. 

"Yes." 

Teena nodded and wordlessly held out the pack of 
cigarettes. Scully hesitated for a moment before 
accepting one and sitting down. The smoke stung her 
lungs; it had been a long time since she'd had a 
cigarette. 

"I don't really sleep anymore," the older woman said, 
and Scully studied her face. Teena was an attractive 
woman, her hair still dark, her face relatively 
unlined. She looked like a ghostly specter in the 
shadows; a woman in white. 

She took a deep breath and stubbed out her spent 
cigarette, slender fingers already reaching for a 
second. The match flared briefly, illuminating a worn, 
sad smile. "I'm sure Fox has told you a lot. I suppose 
I should be insulted he's never brought you around to 
meet us, but I can't really blame him." 

"He's..." Scully hesitated. "He's been preoccupied."

"He's done well in school," Teena said, and her voice 
registered mild surprise. "I suppose I have you to 
thank for that." 

"Me?"

"He didn't make friends very easily before he came to 
high school. Introverted and tortured, my son the old 
soul," Teena laughed humorlessly. "Blames himself, you 
know." 

Scully swallowed a lump in her throat. "Samantha." 

"So he *has* told you," Teena nodded. "I'd thought 
perhaps he'd repressed it." She smiled thinly in the 
moonlight. "I'd envied him that."

Scully stared at her for a moment, aghast. The blood 
pounded in her ears. When she spoke, the words tumbled 
rapidly out of her mouth. "You can still tell him the 
truth. It might not be too late, you could still--"

Teena whirled to face her, her mouth slightly open, 
looking as though she'd just been slapped. "What did 
you say?"

"The project," Scully said, her heart pounding. Even 
if it never made a difference, even if it was just a 
hallucination, she had do this for Mulder. "I know 
everything. I know you had to choose--"

"He chose," Teena spat, and then she stood up, 
throwing her cigarette into the grass. "I assure you, 
you know nothing. My daughter ran away." 

"You'll let Fox destroy himself over this?" Scully 
asked. "You'll just stand by and let it consume him? 
Look, they'll be stopped. Your sacrifices don't need 
to be made--"

"My son is inside. You'll find him in his room," Teena 
said coldly, turning away. Scully could see her 
shoulders shaking slightly. 

"It's not too late," she said.

"It's always been too late," Teena replied.

*

The house was as silent as a grave. Scully followed a 
gently flickering blue light to a room at the end of 
the hall where she found Mulder, sitting cross-legged 
on the floor, still in his tuxedo, playing a video 
game. 

He did not glance away from the screen when she 
entered. "Hello." 

"Hi."

"Want to shoot some aliens with me?" He inclined his 
chin towards the second controller. 

"Mulder--" 

"Why are we friends?" he asked, setting the controller 
down and turning to look at her. The light from the 
television danced in his eyes.

"We--"

"I've been thinking about that all day. It doesn't 
make sense. We're nothing alike, and yet for some 
reason we've been inseparable since school started."

Something in his voice caught her attention and she 
studied him. "Have you been drinking?" 

"Guilty as charged," he said humorlessly, gesturing to 
the half-empty bottle sitting on the carpet next to 
him. "But I've realized that I barely remember meeting 
you, let alone what made me like you so much." 

She opened her mouth to speak and he held up a hand to 
silence her.

"That probably sounds cold. It's not intentional." He 
took a sip of the beer and grimaced. "But I watched 
you leave with Walter earlier and I couldn't 
understand why it bothered me so much. What was so 
special about you? Why the hell did I feel like--" He 
scowled. 

"Like you'd lost something terribly important, and you 
couldn't quite put your finger on what it is?" she 
offered. 

"Something like that." He frowned again. "I think I 
might be sick. My memories are all jumbled up. 
Sometimes things don't make sense at all. I don't 
remember meeting you, really, but I remember you 
shooting me. I remember that really clearly, but it 
doesn't make sense because you've never even picked up 
a gun, let alone shot me." He finished off his beer 
and tossed the bottle aside. "I kissed Diana tonight." 
He said the words with a mild tone of distaste. "And I 
felt like I'd done it before. More than the average 
deja vu. She was right in front of me, the fantasy 
girl of every guy in this high school, and it scared 
me so much I ran off. I'll probably be the joke of the 
class tomorrow." 

Mulder tilted his head at her, his eyes wide and dark 
in the dim light. "I already knew what she tasted like 
before I kissed her. I knew what her hair felt like. 
And it was so real, so vivid, that I had to get out of 
there." 

"You have kissed her before Mulder," Scully said 
quietly. 

"I think I'd remember." 

"It's not your fault. I didn't remember either. We're 
having a hallucination of some sort--" 

"Sometimes I remember things about the night my sister 
disappeared. Nothing concrete. But there was a light--
" Something flickered in his expression and was gone. 
"I think I should see a doctor. I think I'm sick." 

"You're not sick," she said, settling down on the 
floor next to him and tenderly brushing the hair from 
his brow. "And I know what I'm going to tell you will 
sound crazy, but it's the only explanation I've got." 

He turned to study her, his face troubled. "There's 
not much that would shock me at this point." 

"What if I were to tell you that the night before 
school started, I went to sleep not as a fourteen year 
old girl, but as a thirty-four year old FBI agent." 

"I'd tell you I was wrong. You have found something to 
shock me." 

"If you could muster up the ability not to be flippant 
for a moment--" 

"Flippant is my favorite line from Moby Dick," he told 
her. "Hell is--"

"An idea first born on an undigested apple dumpling," 
she finished for him. "You told me that one night on a 
rock in the middle of a lake after our boat sunk while 
we were chasing a sea monster." 

"Now who's hallucinating?" He raised his eyebrows. 
"Not that it doesn't sound like a good time." 

She sighed, closing her eyes. "That sea monster ate my 
dog, Mulder." 

"You don't have a dog," he said.

 It *was* too unbelievable to be taken seriously. 
Maybe she was just crazy. Maybe she was just tired, 
and distraught, and confused. 

And maybe not. 

"Just, be open to extreme possibility," she told him. 
"Although it's usually your job to tell me that." 

"What you're trying to tell me is that the last year 
of my life hasn't really happened." 

"It's happened, just...in your mind."

"So in this grand other life of ours, who are you to 
me?" 

And that, Scully thought, is the sixty-four thousand 
dollar question. Who was she to Mulder, really? His 
partner, yes. His friend. His sometime soul mate. A 
glimmer of something more that had never really 
reached the surface. Something they'd both become 
quite adept at running from. 

"I keep your ass in line," she said, her lips turning 
up in a small smile. 

"Figures," he said, letting his head fall back against 
his bed. 

"The night before this happened, you were the last 
person I spoke to before I went to sleep. You'd called 
me. We were going to drive up to New York, to Sleepy 
Hollow--" 

"Headless horseman, Scully?" he asked, and he sounded 
so like *her* Mulder that she nearly cried. "Did I 
really grow up to be so cliche?" 

"You sure did," she said. "Delightfully predictable in 
your unpredictability." 

"Something to look forward to." His expression shifted 
as he looked at her, his eyes serious. "Are we--" 

"No." 

"Ouch." 

She chuckled at that. "You're taking this better than 
I thought you would." 

"Well, what did you expect?"

"You to go sprinting off into the night in search of 
someone to shake down for information." Her jaw 
dropped. "Of course!"

"That doesn't sound good," he said nervously.

"Ronald Stark." 

"That lunatic?"

"He put us here." 

"How? He's here too."

"Is he?" She tilted her head thoughtfully. "I've got 
to go." 

"I'll come." 

She studied him for a moment. "I usually follow you." 

"I'd follow you anywhere," he said, and she knew he 
meant it.


*

Ronald Stark's house looked even creepier under the 
whitewashed moon than it did in broad daylight. The 
rickety window shutters cast long shadows against the 
murdered lawn, and the tattered screen door creaked 
ominously on its hinges.

There was a light on inside, as if he were expecting 
them. 

Maybe he was.

Scully moved forward first, content to feel Mulder's 
presence behind her. She was conscious of her bare 
feet, too conscious, feeling naked and vulnerable 
without shoes and a weapon. But still she moved 
forward, like a moth to the flame. 

She did not knock at the door, merely pulled it open 
and stepped inside, her footsteps whispering across 
the filthy floor. 

"Dana Scully," the man in the kitchen said, and she 
saw he sat there with two steaming cups of tea.

"Ronald Stark," she said, her voice hard. 

He smiled at her, his eyes flitting to Mulder. "I 
don't believe I recognize this young man."

"You've never met," she said.

"So you do remember," he took a sip of his tea. "As 
far as I know, you're the only one. Fascinating, 
really. All of these smart people, and no one bothered 
to ask the questions necessary to figure it out." 

Scully smiled coldly at him, ignoring the tea he had 
offered her. "I draw comfort from logic, from 
rationality." 

"Which is precisely why I find it interesting that it 
would be you. Surely it isn't rational to believe 
you're an adult trapped in a child's body." 

"You're wrong," Mulder said behind her, and she almost 
jumped at the sound of his rich voice. "It's 
irrational to believe you can gloss over important 
aspects of your life. Who you knew. How you knew them. 
Scully figured it out precisely because it didn't make 
sense." 

Ronald Stark nodded slowly, considering. "Fascinating 
how most people will accept the dream, with all of its 
flaws, instead of the truth." 

"How do I get back?"

He laughed into his tea, the laugh of the mad. "Oh 
Dana. Just click your heels together three times."

She narrowed her eyes, not amused. 

"I was part of a team of scientists working on a new 
biological weapon. A weapon to use on...the hybrids." 
His eyes searched hers for a reaction. She tried her 
best to remain stoic. "As I'm sure you know, there is 
a good deal that can be learned from them, 
scientifically. Unfortunately, the bloody creatures 
kept morphing into other people and disappearing." He 
waved his hand in a dismissive fashion. "They're 
virtually impossible to imprison. And if you kill 
them, they just dissolve into a damn puddle of green 
goo." 

"If there's a point, please feel free to come to it." 

"We needed a way to subdue them. To keep them still 
while we did our tests. Something they'd never fight 
against. And no one is easier to lull into complacency 
than a child. It's so easy to get caught up in 
hormonal trappings that you'd never think to question 
your surroundings. Many of them had been created in 
labs. They'd never had homes, or families. We gave 
them that...here," he touched his forehead gently, 
reverently. "And in return, we had free rein to 
collect as much medical data as we required. When we 
were done experimenting, the hybrids were disposed of 
without ever waking from their fantasy." He smiled 
humorlessly. "They never wanted to wake up. 
Normalcy...it was all they ever wanted."

"Could they have woken up?" Mulder asked. "If they 
wanted to?" 

"How the hell should I know?" the other man said. "We 
experimented with different potencies of gas. The 
effects ranged from a few days to a few months." 

"How much did you release in the FBI building?" 

He smiled then, a terrible, cold smile. "A hell of a 
lot." 

"Why?" 

He shrugged. "Why does anyone do the things they do? 
They shut us down. I was angry. My ex-wife was an FBI 
agent. I spent days throwing darts at a photo of the 
FBI Director. I forgot to take my medication and I 
drank a little too much the night before. It could 
have been any of those things, or it could have been 
none. In the end, do reasons and motivation ever 
really matter?" 

"So you're saying," Scully's voice trembled. "That we 
might be stuck here forever. In our minds."

"Not forever," he said. "Everything here is built on a 
house of cards. It could fall at any time. Or you 
could die, in which case you'd never wake up. It's a 
fascinating experiment. I only wish I could be 
observing it myself." 

"You're not?"

He held his arms out wide, gesturing to his 
surroundings. For a brief moment, Scully saw gray, 
gray cinder block walls, gray tile floor, the cold 
metal of bars--and then her vision slid back to the 
dingy yellow clutter of his kitchen. 

"Have a nice night, Special Agent Dana Scully," he 
said to her. "And know that I'll always hold you in 
the highest regard for being able to kick my ass."

*

Mulder followed her outside, his hands shoved into his 
jacket pockets. "Now what?"

"I don't know," she said, frustrated. "Maybe we just 
wait around until we wake up." 

"I'm not really a passive kind of guy," he said.

"Oh I know *that*," she said with an affectionate look 
in his direction. 

"I believe you," he said as they walked the silent 
streets. "I just wanted you to know that."

"I know you do," she said. "You'll believe anything." 

As they neared her house he stopped her with the 
gentlest of touches on her arm, and she turned to find 
herself captivated by his smoldering hazel gaze. He 
leaned forward, brushing his lips gently against hers, 
and she laughed, pulling back slightly.

"I can't." 

His face looked tortured. "Why not?"

"Because you're fourteen." 

He smiled at that, albeit reluctantly. And she left 
him standing on her front lawn while she made her way 
into the house. 

*

She found Missy sitting at the kitchen table, face 
flushed, hair slightly mussed, her eyes dancing with 
mirth and such *life* that it was almost too much to 
bear. One perfectly manicured hand was wrapped around 
a steaming cup of hot cocoa as she described her 
evening in detail to a tired-looking Maggie Scully.

"Dana," her mother said when she entered the kitchen. 
"I was worried about you. What--" she took in her 
daughter's rumpled appearance. "What happened to your 
shoes?"

And Dana laughed, a bittersweet laugh, and she slid 
into the seat next to Melissa, reveling in the 
closeness. 

Later she stood in the doorway to her parents bedroom, 
watching the moonlight play gently across the beloved 
features of her father's face. She did not wake him. 

She did not protest when her mother followed her into 
her own bedroom, tucking her in like she was a small 
child. 

"Are you sure everything is okay?" she said, smoothing 
the hair from Dana's face. "You seem so different." 

And Scully smiled up at her mother from the soft 
comfort of her pillow. "I'm fine, Mom. But do you 
think you could stay here until I fall asleep?"

*

It was bright when she opened her eyes, brighter than 
she'd expected. Her eyes widened and she turned her 
head to find her mother's face, head tilted to the 
side, snoring slightly. 

She'd stayed the whole night.

Then shock coursed through Scully's body as she 
recognized the shorter haircut, the deeper lines that 
ran across the older woman's face. This was not the 
Maggie Scully who had tucked her in the night before. 
This was a woman touched by tragedy, the loss of a 
husband, of a daughter--

"Mom?" she asked, her voice rasping out of a 
wretchedly dry throat. 

Her mother stirred, her eyes opening and widening. 
"Dana." Then she let out a strangled sob, one hand 
going up to cover her mouth. "Oh, Dana." 

"Where am I?" Scully struggled to sit up. She was 
wearing the thin cotton of a hospital gown, not the 
warm comfort of the flannel pajamas she'd gone to 
sleep in the night before.

"The hospital," her mother said. "You've been in a 
coma...Dana they'd just about given up hope...I have 
to get the doctor..." She stood and bolted from the 
room. 

Scully lay still for a moment, listening to the steady 
pulse of the machinery beside her. She was in a 
private room. A room obviously meant for long-term 
care. 

The doctor appeared in the doorway, flanked by her 
mother, who now had tears coursing down her face. He 
was smiling.

"This is good news," he said. "Very, very good news."

"Where's Mulder?" was all she could bring herself to 
say.

No one answered her. A doctor listened to her heart 
with a stethoscope, and her mother gripped her hand 
with iron force. 

"Tell me what's going on," she said.

"I've never seen anything like it," the doctor said. 
"Her system is showing no adverse effects. This is 
highly abnormal, considering the length of time..." 

"How long?" she demanded, and finally they looked at 
her.

"Nine months," her mother said quietly. "They didn't 
think any of you would ever wake up." 

Nine months. The amount of time it takes a child to 
gestate in the womb. The amount of time she'd spent 
frolicking in her mind under the spell of a more 
carefree time. The amount of time she'd lost. 

"The news called it the worst incident of domestic 
terrorism the United States had ever seen," the doctor 
said quietly. "Every person in the building succumbed 
to the gas. Hundreds of men and women, agents, 
secretaries, security guards...All in seemingly 
irreversible comas." 

"And Mulder?" she asked again.

"He's down the hall," her mother said quietly. "I stop 
in to see him every day before I leave."

"Will he ever wake up?" she asked.

The doctor looked at her kindly. "Yesterday, I would 
have said no. But now...you've given us all hope." 

"Can I see him?"

"I'd rather wait until you had your strength--" 
something in her face made him falter. "I'll need to 
get you a wheelchair. You'll find that your muscles 
have atrophied somewhat." 

Less than twenty minutes later, Dana Scully sat 
stiffly in a wheelchair while she was rolled into the 
room that held Fox Mulder. Hey lay, stiff and pale 
under the white sheets, his eyes shut and unmoving 
beneath the closed lids. She reached up and took his 
cold hand in hers. 

"I don't know what woke me up," she said to him, her 
voice rough from lack of use. "Or if we even dreamed 
the same thing. I want to believe it was you with me, 
not just a figment of my imagination. And I want to 
believe that you're on your way back to me now." She 
rested his hand against her cheek, unable to fathom 
what it would mean if he didn't awaken. 

She had so many questions. 

She felt his finger twitch slightly and she raised her 
eyes to his face. Someone had kept him clean-shaven 
over the months he lay in the bed, and she didn't know 
whether she would need to thank the nurses or her 
mother. 

Because she could see his face clearly as he smiled 
weakly at her.

"Damn," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. 
"You were right." 

And Scully heard footsteps outside the door, frantic 
footsteps, as nurses and doctor's alike rushed into 
rooms long forgotten, rooms of those they'd never 
expected to awaken. 

She wondered briefly what had become of the town in 
her dreams. Were they dying? Or just disappearing as 
though they'd never existed at all? She thought of the 
empty halls at the high school and shivered. 

"I'm sorry," Mulder said, and she opened her eyes to 
see a mournful expression on his face.

"You've been awake for less than a minute," she told 
him, surprised at the emotion that choked her throat. 
"What could you possibly have to be sorry for?"

"Everything," he said, and his eyes drifted closed. 

*

"Dare I remind you," Scully said as she watched Mulder 
toss his suitcase into the trunk. "That the last 
headless horseman sighting occurred ten months ago? He 
disappeared into obscurity sometime during our 
respective comas." 

"You can remind me," he said, "But it's not going to 
make a difference. I've waited a year to go on this 
trip with you." 

It was September, and in Washington the leaves were 
just beginning to curl with the beginnings of color. 
In upstate New York, it was prime foliage season. It 
would be breathtaking, she knew. 

"Well, at least we've got official sanction now," she 
said with a sigh, playing along with her usual role. 
AD Skinner, finally returned to duty a month after his 
recovery from the coma, had called them into his 
office, face burning with embarrassment. He had not 
directly referenced the events that had occurred 
during their brief stint in adolescence, but he sure 
as hell made it up to them.

He gave them the X Files back. 

Diana Fowley had apologized profusely to Mulder, and 
had even had the dignity to toss an embarrassed glance 
in Scully's direction while mumbling something about 
having been "caught up in it all." 

None of them were able to offer a definitive 
explanation for what happened, or why they all shared 
the same memories. 

Mulder and Scully were able to get a good laugh out of 
the fact that Kersh had lost his intimidating edge to 
even the greenest agent in the bureau, now that they'd 
all seen pictures of him in his underwear. It was 
little things like that that reminded Scully that a 
small bit of adolescence lived on in her forever. 

"There's one thing I still don't understand," she said 
as she slid into the passenger seat next to Mulder and 
buckled her seat belt. 

"What's that?" he asked, starting the car and pulling 
out onto the road. 

"How we were able to speak with Ronald Stark. I spoke 
with the police. He was behind bars, and never once 
slipped into a coma."

"There are plenty of documented accounts of comatose 
individuals leaving their bodies for stretches of 
time, practicing remote viewing. I read a study once 
about a woman who claimed she'd floated out of her 
body while in a coma, and was able to perfectly 
describe items above her, items she never could have 
seen."

Scully raised her eyebrow. "Oh come on." 

"We were part of a collective consciousness," he said. 
"You were the one who figured it out. All I'm saying 
is that you may have found a way to bridge the gap 
between worlds. You spoke to Ronald Stark in his jail 
cell, and your mind compensated by creating a house." 

"You saw that house." 

"I saw lots of things."

"Did you..." her voice cracked slightly, but she had 
to know. "Did you see my father? I thought about that 
a lot, you've never met him, and I didn't know if he 
was there for you--"

"I saw him," Mulder said with a reassuring squeeze of 
her shoulder, his eyes flitting from the road to rest 
on her face for a moment. "You've always described him 
so well. He was larger than life." 

She smiled and rested her head against his shoulder, 
surprising herself with the intimacy of the gesture. 
They had spoken about much since he'd woken up, but 
not the brief relationship they'd shared while in the 
throes of the dream. 

Still, his shoulder was comfortable, and she closed 
her eyes and smiled as he brought one hand up, his 
fingers tangling in her hair and playing against her 
scalp. 

Something told her this was going to be a nice trip to 
the forest.

THE END

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