Title: NIGHTMARES V & VI (includes a recap of I-IV) Author: aka "Jake" Rating: PG-13/R (straddles the line with Language) Classification: V Spoilers: Lordy, the list must include nearly every mythology episode, right up through Requiem. Summary: The Navajo code-talker words for "Labor" and "Dawn" are "Na-Nish" and "Ha-Yeli-Khan." Some experiences are so unthinkable, one can only pray they are but nightmares that will fade in morning's light. "There was a tribe of Indians who lived more than 600 years ago. Their name was Anasazi; it means 'ancient aliens.' No evidence of their fate exists. Historians say they disappeared without a trace. They say that because they will not sacrifice themselves to the truth." -- Albert Hosteen to Fox Mulder in Anasazi Disclaimer: The characters Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Alex Krycek, Margaret Scully, Walter Skinner, Cassandra Spender, Teena Mulder, Diana Fowley, CGB Spender and the Lone Gunmen (holy cow, did I leave anybody out?) are the property of Chris Carter, FOX and 1013 Productions. No copyright infringement intended. This is for fun, not profit. Author's notes: Nightmares V & VI, the conclusion of this short series and sequels to Nightmares I, II, III & IV, were written in response to readers' requests. You'll find a brief recap of the earlier episodes below. If you missed the first parts and are interested in reading Nightmares in its entirety, you can find I, II, III & IV on my website. NIGHTMARES V & VI By aka "Jake" Previously in Nightmares I, II, III & IV: Held aboard the Bellefleur spacecraft, Mulder hears the voice of Cassandra Spender: "I've had an unborn fetus taken from me. The fetus was implanted into another woman. She raised him as her son, but he was mine first. The first human/alien hybrid. My husband knew. He knew all their secrets. Don't you see, Mr. Mulder? That baby was you." Later, Mulder is delivered to Scully's apartment, exhausted and starved after months in space. She bathes him, feeds him, makes love to him, only to discover he is not Mulder at all, but a shape-shifting Bounty Hunter. The Bounty Hunter tells her he was sent to guard the two babies she carries, a son and a daughter who are not the children she'd hoped them to be. Meanwhile, Mulder is transferred to a Rebel warship where he joins Cassandra Spender. She explains Mulder's pivotal role in the aliens' billion-year-old Prophecy. Then a surprising communique informs them Scully's Bounty Hunter guard has been killed and Scully is now missing. NIGHTMARE V: NA-NISH (LABOR) Prescott, Ontario September 21, 2000 10:12 AM "Destination?" the border guard asked, fitting his hat more tightly to his head and leaning into the dusty car's open window. "Ottawa" the man at the wheel answered, flashing the patrolman a brilliant smile. "Purpose of your visit?" "Just a day trip. A little early Christmas shopping and maybe some sightseeing. Thought we'd better take the opportunity before the baby arrives." The patrolman bent to get a closer look at the man's sleeping passenger. Pretty red hair. Very pregnant belly. "Your first child?" "Yeah. We're pretty excited." "I understand. I've got four of my own. All boys. They can be a handful sometimes." "Yeah, well..." The driver's smile lost a bit of its bright gleam. The fingers of his right hand jittered along the rim of the steering wheel, a contrast to the prosthetic limb resting stiffly in his lap. "They'll change your life, that's for sure." The patrolman chuckled. The driver's glowing smile returned. "I'm counting on that." "Well, you drive safely and enjoy your day in Canada." * * * "Krycek, stop the car." "No." "Damn it, Krycek, I have to pee." "Should've thought of that before we left." "I was a bit distracted by the dead Bounty Hunter in my bed." "I'd think you'd be grateful to me for killing him. Or were you beginning to take a liking to Mulder's look-alike?" Krycek's leer sickened Scully. Or maybe her sudden nausea was an aftereffect of the drug he'd given her. Whatever the cause, she felt like she might throw up. "You shouldn't have drugged me. You put my baby at risk," she accused, seeing no reason to tell him that she actually carried two babies. The less he knew, the better. "You're maternal instinct is breaking my heart." "Stop the damn car." Her demand brought a flare of impatience to his eyes, but he let up on the gas. The highway was empty; they hadn't seen a car or a house in the last forty minutes. Scanning both sides of the road, Krycek squinted into the forest. He'd prefer to stop someplace more open where he could keep an eye on her -- he didn't trust her not to run -- but the dense timberland stretched on mile after mile, unbroken and inscrutable. "Make it quick." He pulled to the side of the road. "What about these?" She raised her arms, jangling the handcuffs that bound her wrists. "Uh uh. They stay on." He'd grant her nothing beyond a brief stop. "Damn it, Krycek. Do you really think I'm going to make a run for it?" She trailed her cuffed hands over her distended belly. "Either the cuffs stay on or I stand over you and watch." "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Choosing the cuffs over his prying eyes, she opened the door and stepped outside. "Don't wander too far, sweetheart," he called in a singsong voice, watching her cross the narrow strip of grass between the road and the forest. Slipping into the shadow of trees, Scully checked her watch. 5:42. It would be dark in about an hour -- sooner in these black woods. She checked the position of the setting sun and then broke into a run. Damn, she really did have to pee, but she needed to put as much distance between her and Krycek as possible before he realized she wasn't coming back. She had no idea where she was. Somewhere in Canada, she guessed; that's where she would go if she were Krycek. Dodging trees, she tried to calculate their mileage by counting back the hours they'd traveled. They left DC around six. She ducked beneath a swath of low-hanging evergreens. That was twelve hours ago. God, no wonder she had to pee. A thick layer of pine needles silenced her hurrying footfalls. She skidded down a low embankment toward a shallow streambed. If Krycek had driven north, that would put them somewhere in central Quebec. A more westerly route would place them in Ontario. Damn. Either way, they were a long way from home. Awkward and off-balance, she stumbled across the gully's narrow brook. A pang stabbed her ribs and she cursed the extra weight she carried. Yet she didn't dare stop; three minutes had passed since she'd entered the woods and Krycek would be getting out of the car any second to look for her. Glancing over her shoulder, she was relieved to see he wasn't behind her. Yet. She struggled up an embankment on the other side of the stream, climbing to a tangle of underbrush and towering pines at the top. "Scuuulllleeee!" Krycek's voice carried faintly through the woods, causing her to flinch. Despite the pull on her lungs and the pain in her side, she ran harder. She could feel the babies kicking inside her, displeased by the unexpected jostling. She cradled her belly with her hands and ignored the cuffs that cut into the underside of her abdomen. God, she could barely breathe. "Scullee! Come out, come out, wherever you are," he taunted, his voice closer than she would have thought possible after such a short time. "Sculleee!" Out of breath and deciding it might be safer to hide than run, she pushed her way into a stand of tall ferns. Squatting beneath their broad leaves, the tickling fronds curled over her and buried her in their lacy shadows. "Scully?" Already he wasn't more than ten yards away. She held her breath and listened to the scrape of his feet as he paced the circumference of her hideout. If he found her, she'd suffer his anger for attempting to escape. She doubted he'd do anything that would directly endanger the babies since they were his bargaining chips, but he could hurt her in a variety of ways that wouldn't necessarily injure them. She hunched lower, trying to make herself invisible beneath the dense fronds. Please, don't find me. Silence. Had he gone away? "Looks like you're *'it,'* Scully," he grabbed her hair and yanked hard, lifting her to her feet. * * * "Home, sweet, home," Krycek announced when a small cabin came into view. He pulled into the weed-choked drive and shut off the car's engine. A beautiful blue lake sparkled beyond the tiny house. "You like camping, Scully?" He let her walk down to the shore while he unloaded groceries. Where the hell could she go anyway? The air was chilly after the warmth of the car and it smelled like the sea. Scully looked out across the water. Not a lake after all. This must be Hudson's Bay. - - - - - - - - Somewhere north of Kuujjuarapik, Quebec October 13, 2000 9:42 PM Mulder's birthday, Scully thought and the recollection left her feeling guilty for never remembering the date before he went missing. Not once had she presented him with a card or a gift to mark the occasion of his birth, despite the number of years they'd spent together. Yet he'd never complained. Never mentioned her inattention at all. Maybe he was used to the lack of celebration. He'd once given her a birthday gift, wrapped in a tiny white box tied with a gold ribbon, although at the time he claimed he didn't know it was her birthday. She still carried the odd Apollo 11 key chain he'd picked out for her. "This is something that reminded me of you," he'd said. Back then, she'd tried to read more meaning into his gift than he'd intended. After she'd recited her long-winded explanation, he brushed her reasoning aside. "I just thought it was a pretty cool key chain," he'd claimed. It is a pretty cool key chain, Mulder. Surrounded by a blast of cold, Krycek bullied his way into the cabin, stamping snow from his boots and hugging an armload of wood. He kicked the door shut behind him and dumped the wood beside the stove. Tossing his glove to the floor, he stoked the fire with a couple of enormous logs. "You warm enough?" he asked her, a frosty fog chuffing from his lungs with each word. "I'm fine." "You say that a lot, you know." "So I've been told." * * * "You ever get lonely, Scully?" She wondered where he was going with this. "Loneliness is a choice," she quoted herself, although she didn't believe it anymore. "Really?" Krycek sat down next to her, sinking the mattress and forcing her shoulder into his chest. "Did you choose to be a single mom?" He breathed into her hair, his palm settling on her protruding stomach. "Where's Daddy now?" His lips skimmed her ear. Her fist caught him in the jaw. Hard and unexpected, the blow toppled him from the bed, surprising them both. "Well, fuck me." Krycek's eyes smoldered and he rubbed the sting from his chin. "Fuck me." - - - - - - - - November 29, 2000 3:12 AM A twist of fire burned through Scully's abdomen. Damn, the contractions were about five minutes apart. She tried to breath through the pain, wait it out, ignore the sweat beading along her hairline. She tried not to notice Krycek's soft snore crowding her at the edge of the bed. It's too soon. Wait a little longer, my children. Please. "Oooohh," she moaned, not meaning to make a sound when another aching wave squeezed through her. "Whatsthematter?" Krycek mumbled. "The...the baby's coming," she managed to say through gritted teeth. "You have to get me to a hospital." "What?" He was sitting up, hand gripping her shoulder. "I thought you said your due date was more than a month away." He actually sounded worried, although she doubted it was about her well-being. More likely the babies' early arrival interfered somehow with his plans, whatever the hell those were. She guessed he intended to sell her children to the highest bidder. It didn't take a genius to figure out that whoever wanted Mulder would want his son as well. "Twins are often premature," she grunted, giving up her secret at last. "Twins!" Krycek laughed out loud. "I guess Fox Mulder was more of a man than I ever gave him credit for." "I need a doctor, Krycek." "Well, this is a fine time to bring it up. We're not exactly in fucking downtown, you know. A little advance notice about the twin thing might have been helpful." He was pulling on his boots. Grabbing in the dark for his coat. "There's a doctor -- of sorts -- over in Kuujjuarapik, but it'll take me a few hours to get there and back. You want to stay or go with me? Your call." Another contraction ripped through her. "Scully?" He struck a match and lit the lamp. "What the--?" Blood soaked the blankets below Scully's waist. "Go," she told him. "Hurry." NIGHTMARE VI: HA-YELI-KHAN (DAWN) FBI Headquarters Washington, DC "I don't believe it," Skinner's eyes widened and he stumbled to his feet, bumping around his desk to welcome his missing agent back home. "Mulder! Is it really you? Christ! I...I don't know what the hell to say." "Say 'hey.'" "Hey!" the AD repeated, grinning like an idiot and slapping Mulder on the back. "Go easy, Walter," Mulder objected to Skinner's overzealous pounding. "I'm a little out of shape. As a matter of fact..." he lowered himself into a chair. "His" chair. Scully's remained glaringly empty. "Sir, Scully isn't at her apartment. And judging from her sorry-looking philodendrons, I'd have to say she hasn't been there for some time." Skinner's smile evaporated, his expression soured. "She's not with you? Christ, she's been gone since September. I...I thought... She called to say you'd returned, but...." His voice trailed off and he found himself staring at Scully's empty chair. "Sir, an alien Bounty Hunter -- a shape shifter -- was sent to guard her. It's possible he looked like me. He was killed shortly after he arrived." "By Scully?" "I don't know. I don't think so." "Jesus, Mulder, if I'd had any idea..." "Sir, we can't waste anymore time; we need to start looking for her now. She's not with the Rebels and I'm pretty sure she's not with the Bounty Hunters either." "Who does that leave?" "The Colonists maybe, although they rarely put in personal appearances. More likely they've hired someone here on here on Earth to do their dirty work -- an overachieving human party." "All my sources tell me Old Smokey's dead." "That's an all too familiar tune." "Might be true this time. Rumor has it Krycek killed him. Pushed him down a flight of stairs." "Unless someone shoved a wooden stake through his heart, Cancer Man is not dead." "What about Krycek?" "I'm sure he thinks he killed the old man, but that doesn't mean--" "No," Skinner interrupted, "I mean, maybe Krycek has Scully." * * * "You recognize her?" "Yes, sir, Agent Mulder. She came through Prescott maybe eight weeks ago." The border patrolman lifted his hat and scratched his head, squinting again at the photo. "You're certain this was the woman you saw?" Mulder tapped Scully's picture. "Yes, sir. When the FBI posted the descriptions, I remembered both of 'em. You can't help but notice a one-armed man. Kinda stands out from the crowd, you know? And her, she was so pretty, sleeping like an angel, pregnant out to here." He held his hands in front of his flat stomach. "He said they were here for a day trip. Shopping or something. Wanted to enjoy their time alone together, you know, before their baby came along." Mulder pocketed the photo. "Did he say where they were going?" "Yes, sir, but I don't recall what he told me. Sorry. It was a while ago. If it wasn't for the artificial arm, I doubt I'd've noticed him at all." * * * "Mrs. Scully, what are you doing here?" Mulder rose from his basement office desk and accepted Margaret Scully's kiss on his cheek. When she wrapped her arms around his neck, he protested, "Maggie...she's still alive. We'll find her. I promise." "I know you will." She released him, blinking watery eyes and swiping at her cheeks. "AD Skinner call you?" "Yes." She sat down. "Fox, Dana was worried sick when you disappeared. With the baby coming..." "I know, Mrs. Scully--" "She was so happy, you know, to find out she carried your child." "Mrs. Scully--" "None of us thought it was possible, but there it was!" A nervous laugh escaped her, as jittery as her fidgeting hands. "She was already as big as a house when I last saw her." Tears sprang once more to her eyes. "That was...that was only a day or two before she called to say you'd returned. I thought...." "I didn't return until just a couple of days ago, Mrs. Scully." "I...I don't understand. Fox, where *is* my daughter?" "We know she was taken to Canada. Yesterday afternoon, I spoke to a border guard who ID'ed her. I arranged for a search immediately. We have every available person looking for her. I'm flying back to Canada to join Skinner in just a couple of hours." "The baby's due in four or five weeks. I'm worried...." "I plan to find her long before the...the baby arrives." Maggie nodded, wanting with all her heart to believe what he said was true. "Fox, years ago I told you I had a recurring nightmare, a dream about Dana being taken away. Do you remember?" "Yes. When Duane Barry kidnapped her." "That's right. Fox, those nightmares returned more than two months ago. I've had the same one nearly every night since Dana disappeared. And it scares me to death, just like it did six years ago. But that's okay. Do you know why? Do you remember what you told me about my nightmares?" "No." He shook his head. "You said it's probably scarier when I stop having them." "Maybe I was wrong." "No, I don't think so. She's still alive and not just in my heart but in this world. My nightmares remind me of that every night. Fox, when you bring her home to me, to us, that's when my nightmares will end." * * * **Mulder, it's me. I just had something incredibly strange happen. This piece of metal that they took out of Duane Barry, it has some kind of a code on it. I ran it through a scanner and some kind of a serial number came up. What the hell is this thing, Mulder? It's almost as if... it's almost as if somebody was using it to catalogue him... Mulder? Mulder! I need your help! Mulder! I need your help! Mulder! Mulder!** "Shit!" Mulder woke, trembling, sweat soaking his collar, his stomach protesting the bump and fall of the small airplane. "Sir, are you okay?" The stewardess leaned close, concern creasing her brow. When he nodded, she smiled. "We'll be landing in Ottawa in about twenty minutes," she assured him. As she moved away, checking on the other passengers, he stared out the window. He looked beyond the plane's wing, already searching the snow-dusted ground for Scully as if he could somehow spot her among the tiny farms crowding the St. Lawrence River, their white-striped fields looking like squares on a patchwork quilt. Maybe she was hiding beneath those rows of storybook trees fogging the landscape, blurring the edges of the frozen lakes, their bare branches blending with the miniature smoking chimneys. Or, he hoped, she might be walking through those lovely Christmas forests, breathing in the sweet aroma of balsam and pine and cedar, surrounded by soft needles and memories of her childhood. He was surprised by how neat and clean and orderly life looked from up here. Small and precise, like a child's dollhouse. As inviting as a fairytale. He rubbed his eyes and tried to banish the pretty illusion. He almost preferred the echoing memory of Scully's cries for help, recorded six years ago on his answering machine. At least they had been real. Her voice. Her words. Where the hell was she? *How* was she? "As big as a house" her mother had described her. That was hard to picture. She'd felt so small when he'd last held her. In the hall of the Hoover Building. And the night in Bellefleur when she came to his room, cold and in need of comfort. Rare that she would ask for his assistance, come to him for relief. Always she wanted to prove her autonomy -- even with him, *especially* with him -- as though she were still a six-year-old trying to keep up with her capable brothers. Not vulnerable and soft and needy -- although, in spite of herself, she was sometimes all of those things. He managed to sneak his protective urges into her life under the guise of professional duty, watching her back as her FBI partner. She wouldn't allow him to coddle her as a lover, however. But despite the fact she failed to echo his occasional sentimental words -- uttered by him with both heartfelt emotion and tremendous fear -- he knew she loved him. She gave him everything but the words, sacrificing bits and pieces of herself over and over again. Her loyalty, her belief in him, her trust -- they humbled his spirit. Every day she provided a balance that kept his courage from toppling; she offered him something to hang on to; she made his world solid, despite the unreality of their daily lives. She was everything he needed in life, everything he'd searched for and been denied for so long. And he had no intention of losing her now. Especially now. Carrying twins. What had Cassandra said? **The Prophecy predicted that an Earthman would father a son and the boy's name would be Tse-Le, Small Pup. Tse-Le would have a sister named Eh-Do.** His children? Both of them? No. Not both. **Although born of the same mother on the same day, the children carry different bloodlines.** How was this possible? What did it mean? If Tse-Le was indeed his son, then who was the father of Eh-Do? **They grow up to be bitter enemies. Tse-Le one day leads a strong army against his sister's soldiers, defeating them.** How could his son condemn his own sister? It didn't make sense. It couldn't be true. Could it? * * * "You look...terrible." Skinner frowned, taking in the tired lines creasing Mulder's face. "So give me some good news." "*That,* I can do." "You have something?" "Our best lead yet. An Inuit healer from Kuujjuarapik saw Scully's photo on the news. Claims he helped a woman who looked just like her deliver twins two days ago. I've got a chopper picking us up in ten minutes." * * * "She didn't have an easy time. The babies, they were large for coming so early. And the mother, she was small," the Inuit doctor explained. "But she's alive?" Mulder asked. "She was alive when I left her. But she was very weak. She lost a lot of blood. I wanted to stay longer, care for her, but her husband -- the one-armed man -- he insisted I leave." Mulder dug Scully's picture from his coat pocket. "This...is this the woman?" The Inuit doctor took the photo, nodding while he studied her face. "Yes, she is the mother I helped. You can find her seventy miles north of here in a small cabin on the Bay." * * * "Agent Mulder! God damn it, Mulder, wait!" Skinner yelled, but his order went unheard over the roar of the helicopter's spinning rotors. Barely on the ground, Mulder leapt from the chopper's open door and jogged toward the cabin. His strides forged a scar across the new fallen snow, drawing a straight line from the helicopter to the cabin door. A shove with his shoulder unstuck the solid front door, and he spiraled inward, appalled by the chill and dark he found there. The miserable room was so bitingly cold, he almost hoped Scully wasn't hidden somewhere inside. Panning the room with his flashlight, he focused its beam on a jumble of blankets on the room's lone bed. Dried blood painted the fabric brown. The pile was impossibly small, certainly too meager to hide a human being. But a wisp of hair poked out from underneath the bedding, fanning the stained mattress with its silky copper strands. "S-scully?" The beam of his flashlight wobbled and dipped, unsteady in his quaking fingers. His legs numbed, the muscles suddenly unable to move. It seemed the air grew thick around him, too heavy to draw into his lungs. Dread wrapped itself around his chest and squeezed him, stopping the beat of his heart and thrusting his panic into his throat. Was that her beneath the blankets? Was she alive or dead? A glimpse of delicate fingers fluttering at the hem of one blanket launched Mulder across the room. Three strides carried him to the bed and he reached for the bedding. Carefully, he peeled back the grimy covering and exposed Scully's pinched face. Her eyes were closed, her skin so chalky white he was reminded of sterile hospital curtains and stark sympathy cards and the spotless starched sheets Scully used to wrap the corpses she autopsied. A frail flag of surrender, her bloodless face dropped him to his knees. "Scullee," he crooned her name, brushing his palm over her icy cheek, willing her eyes to open. But her eyes remained shut, her lids chapped and gaunt and nearly transparent, and she lay as still as the dead winter landscape surrounding Hudson's Bay outside. Peripherally, he saw the paramedics enter the room. He felt Skinner's hand grip his shoulder and knew the AD wanted him to move back and let the medics do their job. "Agent Mulder, you can't help her" Skinner said while he tugged Mulder away. "Give them room." Mulder silently obeyed. "Krycek's gone," Skinner said. "He took the babies." "Took the...?" The news didn't surprise Mulder but he felt hollowed by it all the same. Of course Krycek took the babies. They were his reason for kidnapping Scully in the first place. Like everything Krycek did, his agenda was driven by greed; the babies would bring him riches and power, all the things he'd ever dreamed about. Two tiny children were his ticket to a life of luxury and he wasn't opposed to using them to benefit himself. Hell, what were they to him? Nothing more than his enemies' offspring. Trading the children to the Colonists would be a pleasure. At the bed, the paramedics unwound the blankets from Scully's limp body, gently checking her pulse, the pupils of her eyes, her breathing. One filthy layer after the next fell away. "Sir?" The medic sounded surprised. "I think you should take a look at this." Mulder pushed past Skinner, frightened by the medic's disbelieving tone. "What is it? What did you find?" he demanded. There beneath the protective curve of Scully's arm, a baby clung to her breast. Red-skinned and shivering and blinking in the sudden light. A tiny naked girl. - - - - - - - - Two Days Later Northeast Georgetown Medical Center Washington, DC 8:46 AM "What will you name her?" Mulder asked softly, standing back from the bed, still unused to the idea of Scully as a mother. He leaned against the wall, coat slung over his arm, not yet ready to settle into the chair, undecided if he would stay or suddenly bolt for the door. He stared at the newborn in her arms. Not red-skinned or shivering now, the baby's eyes half-closed in drowsy satisfaction as she fed at Scully's breast. "I don't know, Mulder. I'm not sure. Would you like me to name her after your mom?" Still far too pale, Scully all but disappeared into the pillows and white linens. The hospital bracelet encircling her wrist reminded Mulder of her cancer and he had to look away or risk collapsing to the floor. "No." So little breath behind the one word. "Your sister then?" "No. No." Again his rejection was no more than a murmur. Chewing at his lower lip, he considered other options. "How about your family?" "Well...there's my mother, of course. Or Melissa. Do you like either of those?" "Melissa Mulder? Margaret Mulder?" He linked her sister's and mother's names with his own, assuming unclaimed responsibility for Scully's daughter. "That's a lot of M's. How about 'Dana'?" "I don't think so. Any other ideas?" "I've always liked 'Elvis'." "Forget it, Mulder." Relaxing, he eased himself into the chair beside the bed, draped his coat over his lap. They watched the baby suckle. "She's noisy," he pointed out as the tiny girl smacked her lips. "Mmm." "How about your middle name, Scully? I like 'Katherine,'" he said. "Do you? Katherine was my aunt. My mother's only sister in a big family of boys. They were very close." "What happened to her?" "She died. A long time ago." "Oh. How about 'Katherine Margaret' then? Do you like that?" "It'll make Mom happy. Katherine Margaret. Yeah. Yeah, Mulder, I do like it." She stroked the baby's cheek. "Mulder, I-I'm sorry..." "Scully--" "I couldn't stop him." She meant Krycek, of course. "I know." "He took them both, but he brought her back a little while later. He said they didn't want her. He said they only wanted the boy. I...I couldn't stop him. I tried, but..." "Scully, please--" "I...he was your son, Mulder. I'm so sorry." * * * "Hi there, Katie. How's my pretty granddaughter?" Maggie cradled the baby in her arms. "Oh, Dana, she's just beautiful. She has your hair and her father's eyes." "Mom, her eyes are blue." "I don't mean the color, sweetie. I mean the shape. Don't you think she looks like Fox?" "Mom, she's only four days old." Scully evaded the issue of paternity. "Even so." Maggie tickled the baby's chin, "She looks just like her daddy. Don't you? Katie, don't you think you look like your daddy?" Scully said nothing, but recognized that her mother was right. The idea made sense actually. Why wouldn't the baby look like Mulder? After all, CGB Spender was purportedly Mulder's father as well as Katie's. Spender's paternity meant Scully's baby was actually Mulder's half-sister. * * * "Should we be looking for a house?" "What for, Mulder? My apartment is plenty big enough for one tiny baby." "I was thinking you might want me there, too." He felt stung by her omission. "Besides, your apartment's no place for a baby. It has a revolving door for the criminally insane. Do I need to name names?" "No. But, at least my place isn't full of hidden cameras. Any day now I expect to see your every move broadcast like The Truman Show on either the FOX network or the World Wide Web." "Guess you haven't visited FoxyMulder.com, huh?" "Very funny." "So seriously. A house?" "Did Skinner give you a raise or something while I was gone?" "No, but with all that extra income from the website...." "Mulder, houses in DC cost a lot of money -- more than you could possibly glean from the prurient interest of bored Internet surfers." "You underestimate Foxy Mulder." "Be that as it may, buying a house is not realistic on our salaries." "Scully, I could sell Mom's place in Chilmark or the summer house on Quonochontaug. That would be plenty." "I'm in no shape to go house-hunting." "I'll do it." "No." "Don't you trust me?" "Mulder, what do you know about buying a house?" "Enough to tell the realtor we're looking for a place without revolving doors or ceiling cams." "You've...you've never asked me about my pregnancy." Scully changed the subject, feeling certain they shouldn't be talking about buying houses when they had never discussed the more important issue of Katie's questionable conception. "It doesn't matter, Scully. I plan on being Katie's father." "But it's a lie, Mulder. And I think you know that. I...I don't like keeping the truth from you." "Maybe you don't know the truth, Scully." "But, the Bounty Hunter told me--" "The Bounty Hunter could have been lying." "Why would he do that?" "Why wouldn't he?" * * * FBI Headquarters December 9, 2000 7:34 AM The bare spot on the wall no longer caught Mulder's eye, demanding his attention the way it had at first, and he now felt the empty rectangle of space represented an appropriate memorial for his old I Want To Believe poster, removed in a recent fit of non-belief. He worked at his desk, alone in the office for now. Scully would return in a few weeks, when she was stronger and the baby was a bit older. He slid a disk into his computer, bringing his monitor to life. The Gunmen hadn't been able to tell him much about the disk, although they'd spent a long time studying and analyzing it. Still it remained a mystery. No clue as to where it was made or who left it under Mulder's office door. Just a standard-issue CD. Burned, however, with a most unusual document. The CD's file contained a multitude of Navajo words that needed translating. As Mulder researched their meanings, he copied definitions into the document, inserting decoded words within brackets, sometimes typing in additional information necessary for clarification. The result was a stuttering narrative, its smoothness slowed by his random notes. He didn't care. It wasn't the literary quality that interested him anyway, but the meaning of the story. No matter how many times he reread the document, its tale astonished him. Everyone he knew, everyone he had ever known, was there, characters in a history written more than a billion years ago. Krycek, Smoking Man, Scully, Skinner, Cassandra and on and on and on. It was impossible and yet, there they were. The cursor blinked and text flowed onto the screen. **Beh-bih-ke-as-chinigh [What is written (The Prophecy)]** **In the time of the Nil-chi-tso [Big Wind (November)], a boy and a girl were born to the same woman at the same time, but the children were not twins or even brother and sister. The boy, called Tse-Le [Small Pup] was in truth the son of Ma-E [Fox] and Tkin [Ice (??)]. Eh-Do [Also] was the daughter of Li-Chi Tse-Gah [Red Hair (Scully)], who had carried both babies in her womb. The little girl's father was Lit Chindi [Smoke Devil (CGB?)] a powerful man who had arranged Li-Chi's strange pregnancy, setting into motion the A-Lah-Na-O-Glalih [The Gathering], the Da-Ah-Hi-Dzi-Tsio [The Battle], the Naz-Tsaid [The Kill] and the end of the Ne-Ol [Storm (War?)].** **The night Tse-Le and Eh-Do were born, Li-Chi cried because her babies were stolen from her, taken by A-Tkel-El-Ini [Trouble Maker (Alex Krycek)] to be sold to the Altseh-E-Jah-He [First Strikers (Alien Colonists)]. The Altseh-E-Jah-He desired only Tse-Le, so Eh-Do was returned to her mother.** **Ma-E and his friend Mai-Be-He-Ahgan [Fox's Arm (Skinner?)] rescued Li-Chi and Eh-Do, saving their lives and returning the mother and daughter to their home in the south.** **Eh-Do stayed with her mother and was raised on Ah-Ha-Tinh [Place of Action (Earth?)] while Tse-Le was taken away to the To-Altseh-Hogan [Temporary Place (??)]. Tse-Le was raised by the Jish-Cha [Among Devils (Rebel Spies? Bounty Hunters?)]. When he grew to become a man, Tse-Le was given to the Altseh-E-Jah-He [(Alien Colonists)].** Mulder skipped several pages, drawn as always to the end of the story. **Now a powerful and fearless Bih-Keh-He [War Chief], Tse-Le led a strong army against his sister and her Nih-Hi-Cho [Allies], defeating the Da-A-He-Gi-Eneh [To know other's actions (mind-reading Rebels?)] along with the people of Ah-Ha-Tinh [Earth] who became slaves or were killed.** Obviously Cassandra had been mistaken...or duped. She had assumed the Rebels won the War, saving the human race from subjugation or death. What she hadn't understood, what she never guessed, was that the Rebels were willing to sacrifice themselves, along with the people of Earth, in order to end the hundred-thousand-year-old war. They were martyrs in the truest sense of the word, knowing in advance they would die for the greater good. Rather than use their knowledge of The Prophecy to alter their future, saving themselves and humankind, they followed the divination to its inevitable conclusion. They purposely misled Cassandra, letting her believe Mulder's son, her grandson, would save the Universe by siding with them, when in fact he would bring peace by leading the Colonists to victory, defeating the Rebels and enslaving the human race. They lied to Scully, too, using the Bounty Hunter to tell her they hoped to keep Mulder and his son's unique mind-reading abilities from falling into the hands of the Colonists, when actually they had known from the very beginning Tse-Le would be given to the Invaders. In essence, through their actions and lies and deceptions, the Rebels planned to commit suicide, taking the people of Earth with them on their Kamikaze mission. This was their Ne-Nah-Cha, the Surrender Cassandra had described. The Rebels were relinquishing themselves to their destiny, even at their own expense and the expense of the inhabitants of Earth. The success of the Invading Colonists would be a death knell for humankind. Their victory over the Rebels might bring peace to the Universe...but at an impossibly high price. **Imprisoning his sister and torturing her Nih-Hi-Cho [Allies], Tse-Le brought an end to the terrible Ne-Ol [War]. He lived a long life as ruler of the Altseh-E-Jah-He [First Strikers]. He fathered many children, who became great leaders like their father.** Mulder's legacy, his own flesh and blood -- turned into the enemy. Against Scully's daughter and the entire human race. **Praise to Ma-E. Praise to Tkin. Praise to Tse-Le. Ut-zah. Ut-zah-ha-dez-bin. [It is done. It is done well.]** Christ. A damn fairytale complete with a twisted "happily ever after ending." And Mulder was partially to blame, wasn't he? Tse-Le was his son. That's what The Prophecy claimed. Or was the Prophecy itself just another lie? Mulder needed to be sure. Pulling open his desk's narrow, top drawer, he withdrew a manila envelope and slid his thumb beneath the still-sealed flap. He shook out the contents and three 8X10 transparencies drifted to his desk. PCRs. Scully's. His own. And Katie's, the results of a genetic test he'd ordered on the baby. Carefully, he positioned his own PCR results over Scully's, nearly doubling the selection of individual genetic markers. Although not trained to interpret PCR findings, he knew if he laid Katie's test on top of the other two, any unmatched markers would indicate Katie was another man's daughter, not his own. Taking a breath, Mulder placed Katie's PCR on top of the others. The markers lined up. All of them. "Jesus. Just another lie, Scully. The truth isn't in the Prophecy. The truth is in our daughter." THE END Author's notes: Obviously the mythology could go on and on -- I guess that's what makes it a mythology. But this is truly the end of the Nightmares series. Nightmares VI is dedicated to Caroline who challenged me to tie up all the loose ends with a happy, or at least acceptable, ending. Did I do okay, C? Anyone interested in learning more Navajo, check out the Code Talkers Dictionary at www.history.navy.mil/faqs/faq61-4.htm.