Title: Split Second (1/1) Author: aka "Jake" Rating: PG (language) Classification: MSR, X Spoilers: Vague references to several episodes through season 7. Takes place before Sein Und Ziet. Summary: While investigating a kidnapping case on an island off the coast of Maine, Mulder and Scully are separated -- by 178 years. Scully is desperate to solve the case and get Mulder back to the present. Split Second by aka "Jake" Disclaimer: The characters Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, AD Kersh, and the Lone Gunmen are the property of Chris Carter, FOX and 1013 Productions. No copyright infringement intended. This is for fun, not profit. SPLIT SECOND Little Blue Island, Maine May 20 9:32 AM "Don't go too far," Katherine Hall warned her three children. She crossed the front porch to the clothesline, a basket of wet, clean laundry perched on her hip and a bag of pins in her hand. "Ah, Mom." Nine-year-old Justin frowned at his mother. He stood in the grass at the bottom of the steps. Dew soaked his sneakers. An off-shore breeze chilled his bare arms. Maybe his mom had been right when she'd told him to put on a coat. "We're just goin' to the pond," Courtney said. She was dressed in Justin's hand-me-down jeans and blue flannel jacket. She might have been mistaken for a boy if not for the braids that hung over her shoulders, tied with bright red ribbons. "Go pon'," two-year old Julie said around the thumb in her mouth. Wispy blond hair sprouted from her head like a dandelion gone to seed. "Watch your sisters! You hear me, Justin?" Katherine said. "Watch your sisters. Watch your sisters," Justin muttered. But he did as he was told and took Julie by the hand. The kids followed a short path to the pond. "Justin, I can throw a rock further than you," Courtney said once they stood at the water's edge. "Not likely, Courts." He released Julie's hand. The toddler bent to examine a bright yellow flower. "Wanna bet?" "You're gonna lose." "Gone looz," little Julie repeated. She plucked the bloom. "No I won't," Courtney said. "Come on, Jus. Let's bet." "If you insist," the boy said, confident he could out-throw his younger sister. "Whaddaya wanna bet?" "If I win, I get to use your new microscope for a week." "No way. You're not touchin' my microscope." "Justin's afraid he's gonna lose! Justin's afraid he's gonna lose!" Courtney called out in a singsong voice. She flipped her braids over her shoulders. A flutter of ribbons settled on her back. "I am *not* afraid I'm gonna lose." "Then let's bet! If I win, I get to use your new microscope for a week and if you win--" "You clean my room for a month!" "A month!" "Including the closet. Is it a bet?" Courtney studied the pond, apparently considering her chances of winning. "Yes. It's a bet," she finally said. "You go first." Justin kicked at the shore and loosened a stone. He hefted it in his palm, testing the weight and shape. Satisfied, he pitched it high over the water and it landed with a plunk just beyond the pond's midpoint. "My turn." Courtney searched for the perfect stone. She chose a small flat rock that she fitted snuggly into the crook of her finger. With a nimble flick of her wrist, she sent the stone skimming across the water's surface. It skipped six, seven, eight times before it disappeared into the pond, several yards beyond Justin's stone. "That's not fair," Justin said. "You cheated." "I did not cheat. I beat you fair and square." "Did not." "Did so!" "Didso. Didso. Didso." Julie spun in a circle, her arms spread wide. Dizzy, she toppled and landed on her bottom. She looked up in surprise. "Ooooo! Sheep! Sheep!" she squealed with delight. "Julie, what are you talking abou..." Justin followed his little sister's extended arm to where a black-faced sheep grazed at the edge of the woods. "Courts! Look!" Courtney was already staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the mysterious sheep. "Where did it come from?" "She belongs to me." A young woman stepped out from the trees and approached the children. She had a friendly smile and pretty green eyes. Her auburn hair was pinned on top of her head in an old-fashioned style. She wore a high collared blouse trimmed in white lace, and her skirt was so long it skimmed the wet grass, soaking up the dew. "Her name is Angel. Would you like to pet her?" "Yes!" Courtney ran to the sheep. "Who are you?" Justin stood his ground, suspicious of the stranger. "My name is Sarah. I live on the island's north end," she said. Justin gave her a doubtful look. Little Blue Island was not very big, less than eight hundred acres, with only six houses on it. Two homes were occupied year round, including his; the others were used strictly as summer places. The summer visitors rarely showed up until after Memorial Day. Sarah smiled at the children. "What are your names?" "Courtney." The older girl ran her fingers through Angel's wooly hair. "She's soft!" "What about you?" The woman knelt in front of little Julie. "What's your name?" "Julleeee," the toddler said. She reached out her arms to be picked up. Sarah stood and hoisted the girl comfortably to one hip. "And you?" Sarah looked at Justin. He hesitated before answering. His mom always said not to talk to strangers. She also told him not to be rude to others. "Justin Michael Hall," he said at last. "Come on, Courts. We gotta go home." "Come see Angel's baby first," Sarah said. "Angel has a baby?" Courtney asked. "Yes, he is only three days old. Come see. Help me choose a name for him." "Justin, I wanna see the lamb!" "Seeelamm." Julie reached for the cameo pinned to Sarah's lace collar. She gave it a delicate twist. "Mom told us not to go far," the boy said. "Oh, it is not far," Sarah said. She adjusted Julie on her hip and reached for Courtney's hand. "This way." She tilted her head toward the trees, inviting the boy to follow. He stood for a moment, watching the woman and the two girls head into the woods. Just before they disappeared from view, he broke into a run and caught up with them. A thick curtain of fog swirled beneath the cedar trees. Sarah and the three children stepped through it and ubruptly vanished. The sheep trailed after them and disappeared, too. ____________________ Machias Bay, Maine One week later 10:10 AM Scully gave up trying to speak and hear over the chug of the lobster boat's engine. She stood at the stern, her arms crossed and her jacket zipped to her neck to ward off the chill. An easterly wind whipped her hair and stirred the gray sea. The boat rolled with each wave as they headed away from the mainland. Under the low, open overhang of the cabin roof, Mulder ducked his head to listen to the Captain, who shouted to be heard above the din of the engine. The man was Richard Hall, father of the three missing children. He was a short, wiry man, younger than he looked. A lifetime of exposure to the elements had creased his face beyond his years. Sleeplessness and grief dulled his sky-blue eyes. Meeting Mulder and Scully at the Machiasport pier twenty minutes ago, he'd asked the agents to call him Rick and extended a leathery hand to Mulder. He tipped the brim of his faded Red Sox cap to Scully. Behind the wheel, Rick now pointed out a distant island to Mulder. Scully guessed the island was Little Blue, their destination. It lay several miles out in Machias Bay, southwest of a peninsula where the U.S. Navy had built a station back in the late '50s. Providing communications to the Atlantic Fleet and the region's shore commands, the Naval Computer and Telecommunications Station remained operational. Red winking lights outlined its massive antenna towers to the east. As the boat neared Little Blue, the blueberry barrens for which the island was named came into view. Low-growing bushes clung to the granite slopes above the shore. A forest of pointed evergreens rose from the island's center. Rick steered the boat into the calm of the leeward harbor and reversed his engines at the dock. When the boat stopped, Mulder hopped over the rail with the fore line in hand. Scully grabbed the aft line and stepped onto the dock, where she tied a perfect cleat hitch. Nodding his thanks, Rick hoisted the agents' duffel bags from below deck and handed them across the rail to Mulder. The tide was low and the aluminum incline rose steeply from the dock to the pier above. Scully stared up the ramp. Mulder leaned close, dipping his head to her ear. "Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go," he said in a sing-song voice. "Which dwarf are you, Mulder?" She cocked an eyebrow at him. "I think that's pretty obvious." He smiled in mock shyness and gazed at her through his lashes. "I'm Bashful." "More like Dopey," she said, causing him to mug an expression of exaggerated hurt. "Thanks a lot, Snow White." "I'm Snow White?" "The fairest of them all." Scully reached for her bag, but Rick said simply, "I got it." So she followed after the men, climbing the ramp empty handed. ____________________ Hall Residence Little Blue Island 10:34 AM "Kath, these are Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully from the FBI," Rick spoke softly to the woman who stood at the living room window looking out at the empty yard. It took her a moment to focus on her husband's words. "Mrs. Hall, we'd like to ask you a few questions." Scully stepped forward. "May we sit down?" "Yes, of course." Katherine gestured dully at the couch. "Please, tell us what happened the day the children disappeared," Scully said, once they were all seated. As Katherine thought back, her brow creased with worry. "I was hangin' clothes and the kids were headin' to the pond. I told 'em not to go far..." The care-worn woman's face crumpled. "I know this is difficult, Mrs. Hall, but can you tell us anything more?" Katherine shook her head. Rick cleared his throat. "Uh...Warren an' me hunted for the kids all evenin' 'til well after midnight." "Warren?" "Warren Bailey. We lobster together. He lives down island 'bout a quarter mile. We took his dogs and searched the whole island, callin' the kids' names, checkin' the vacant summerhouses, goin' through the woods. We came up empty handed. Next mornin' we went out again, with the Sheriff this time. He come over from the mainland shortly after sunrise. Same thing. No sign of the kids. The Sheriff called the Coast Guard, thinkin' the kids mighta drown..." Rick swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing conspicuously above the open collar of his shirt. "The children weren't found," Scully said. It wasn't a question. "No. But we did find the letter." From the file folder in his lap, Mulder withdrew a clear plastic evidence bag containing a single sheet of paper. "This one?" he asked and passed the page to Rick. The man nodded, recognizing the careful handwriting. The message was brief. "The children are safe. They will not be coming back." was all it said. The day the letter had been found, it was sent to the State Crime Lab for analysis, where it was dusted for fingerprints. Two distinct sets were discovered. A thumbprint belonging to an adult was run against the database. No match was found. A child's print, however, matched little Julie Hall, whose fingerprints had been taken, along with her brother's and sister's, at the Machiasport Fire Department the previous summer as part of a child safety campaign. The Crime Lab also analyzed the note's paper and ink. The tests revealed both were of a type used more than one hundred and fifty years ago. "Where did you find the letter, Mr. Hall?" Mulder asked. "Down at the north end of the island. There's a stone foundation there; what's left of an old farmstead. Two days after we found it, somethin' even stranger showed up," Rick said. "The lamb." "Ayuh. The lamb. It was wanderin' around the old foundation, cryin', probably lookin' for its mother. We found an older sheep's hoof prints on the ground outside the foundation. Agent Mulder, there are no sheep on this island. Haven't been for more'n a hundred years." "There used to be sheep on Little Blue?" "Sure. Little Blue was used by sheep farmers back in the 1800s, just like a lot of Maine islands were. Islands are great places to raise sheep. No need for fences. No predators." Mulder pulled another evidence bag from his file folder and held it out to Rick. "You found this tied around the lamb's neck?" he asked. "Ayuh. Kath recognized it as one of Courtney's hair ribbons." Katherine Hall's eyes filled with fresh tears at the sight of the ribbon. "I tied that in Courtney's braid myself the mornin' the children disappeared," she said, her voice watery with grief. "Where's the lamb now?" Scully asked. "Warren Bailey'd been keepin' it in his shed. But it disappeared a couple of days ago," Rick said. "Mr. Hall, will you show us where you found the letter and the lamb?" Mulder asked. "I'll take you there now." ____________________ North end of Little Blue Island 11:10 AM Rick parked his pickup truck alongside a crumbling foundation where a centuries-old barn once stood. Dried ferns and ragweed poked out through the stones. The island's single dirt road separated the ruins from what used to be a farmhouse, now not much more than a mossy pit marking the original celler. A few scabby overgrown apple trees in full bloom dotted a slope behind it. Mulder stepped from the truck and held the door open for Scully. The morning fog had burned off and the spring sun felt warm. Scully slid across the dusty vinyl seat and hopped to the ground beside him. "This way," Rick said. He led the agents to what was once the back of the barn. "The note was tucked in that jar." A glass canning jar, tinted pale blue, sat on the sill. "The jar wasn't sent to the Crime Lab?" Mulder asked. "No, sir. Guess we figured it wasn't important," Rick said. "I'd like it checked out." Mulder withdrew a pair of latex gloves and an evidence bag from his pocket. He bagged the jar and handed it off to Scully. "Where did you find the lamb, Mr. Hall?" "Over here." Rick guided him away from the foundation. "You can still see the tracks." Pressed sharply into the drying spring mud were the unquestionable hoof prints of a sheep. Mulder squatted over them for a closer look. "Are there any other original homesteads on the island?" Mulder ran his fingers over the print. "Ayuh, maybe a dozen or so. At one time, Little Blue was quite a successful farm community." "When was that?" "'Bout a hundred-fifty, two hundred years ago, give or take." "What happened to the people who farmed here?" "Not sure. Farmers stopped raisin' sheep, I guess, and moved to the mainland to make a livin' some other way." Mulder rose to his feet. "If we walk the road back to your place, would we be able to see any indication of the original buildings?" "Sure, several are visible from the road." "Scully, lace up your hiking boots, we're going for a stroll," Mulder said. "Agent Mulder, it'll take you more'n an hour to get back to the house on foot. I'd be happy to drive you in the truck," Rick said. "No, thanks. After spending the morning in a tiny commuter plane from DC to Bangor, then driving two and a half hours to Machiasport in an economy class car, I'd welcome the opportunity to stretch my legs," Mulder said. "You want to walk, too, don't you Scully? Stretch those little legs of yours?" Before she could reply, Mulder plucked the evidence bag from her and passed it to Rick. "I'd appreciate it if you'd take the jar back with you, Mr. Hall." Rick looked to Scully. "Ma'am, you really wanna walk?" "She loves to walk," Mulder assured Rick, grasping Scully by the back of her arm and propelling her several steps away from the truck. "I love to walk," Scully repeated and shot a questioning look at Mulder. ____________________ Island Road Little Blue Island 11:50 AM "Mulder, what was that about?" Scully asked once Rick's pickup had pulled away and was out of sight. They walked side-by-side along the single-track dirt road that cut north to south across the island. Evergreen trees grew thickly up to the edge of the road. The scent of pine filled the spring air. "You didn't want to walk?" he asked. "It's an hour-long hike." He leaned close to her ear. "Just the two of us. Alone in the woods." He waggled his brows. She shook her head and let the suggestion pass. "To be honest, Scully, I have a theory and thought it best not to talk about it in front of Mr. Hall." "That's not like you. What happened to just blurting it out, consequences be damned?" "This theory is pretty extreme, even for me." "I'm all ears." "I think I know where...or rather, *when*...the missing children are." "When? Do I dare ask what that means?" "What if -- and hear me out before you nay-say me -- what if some kind of hole or portal has developed between the present and the past -- maybe the early 1800s -- and the children stepped through it?" "On what do you base that unlikely idea, Mulder?" "The appearance of the lamb." "Mulder, maybe someone -- in the present -- abandoned that lamb here on the island." "Wearing Courtney Hall's hair ribbon around its neck?" "Maybe Courtney tied her ribbon to the lamb before she disappeared." "What about the adult sheep, Scully? Its tracks suggest that a full-grown sheep appeared and subsequently disappeared from the old farmstead." Mulder sidestepped a puddle. "From the farmstead, yes. But not necessarily from the island. That sheep might be wandering the woods right now. Much like we are." Scully gestured at the thick pines growing all around them. "And the appearance of the sheep and the lamb might be completely unrelated to the disappearance of the children." "I think they're connected." "Fine, let's ignore the facts for a minute and assume what you say is true. Why the early 1800s?" "Because that's when sheep farmers lived here. And that's the age of the paper and ink used in the note. The canning jar, too, I think we'll find." "Mulder, has it occurred to you that the children were kidnapped and the kidnapper happened to use old ink and paper?" "So, you think a kidnapper removed three children from the island, then returned two days later to leave a note, written on old paper." His tone indicated he found the idea highly implausible. "For all we know, the kidnapper left the note at the same time the children were taken. The letter may have been simply overlooked for a couple of days." "Maybe," he said. "Hey, there's another old foundation." He jogged to a stone-lined hole and hopped down into it. Scully waited at the sill while Mulder poked his fingers into crevices and prodded beneath layers of dried leaves and tangled weeds. He found nothing but a crushed beer can. Scully turned her attention to the surrounding woods. Twenty yards to the east, a flat, upright stone caught her eye. When she spotted several others nearby, scattered evenly among the tree trunks, she left Mulder to investigate. On closer inspection, she discovered she wasn't looking at a natural formation at all, but a long-forgotten graveyard full of worn headstones. ____________________ Little Blue Island Cemetery 12:30 PM The cemetery contained only about two-dozen headstones, many tipped at haphazard angles and all tinted green with moss and lichen. Scully ran her fingers across the engraved surface of the nearest one. Years of exposure to rain and snow had worn it nearly smooth, making the dates and names barely discernable. She went from one stone to the next, trying to decipher the faint inscriptions on each. //James Turner// //b.1760 d.1833// //Elizabeth Turner// //Beloved Wife and Mother// //b.1779 d.1822// //TURNER// //Sons and Daughters// //Died 1822// //Thomas, age 9// //Daniel, age 7// //Mary, age 6// //Abigail, age 4// //Andrew, age 3// //Baby Girl// //"Thou art the God of my salvation;// //For Thee I wait all the day long."// "What did you find?" Mulder appeared behind her. "James Turner lost his wife and six children in 1822." "Kind of puts the Knicks' crappy season into perspective. What killed them?" "The Knicks or the Turners?" "I was asking about the Turners." "Probably a communicable infection like scarlet fever. Penicillin is used today to treat streptococcal bacteria, but in the 1800s, before the discovery of antibiotics, scarlet fever was a deadly plague." Scully moved to the next grave marker. "Mulder, look at this." He joined her to read the inscription. //MERSEREAU// //Justin Michael, age 9// //Courtney Elizabeth, age 7// //Julie Marie, age 2// //And loving mother, Sarah b.1797// //Died 1822// "Those are the names of the Hall children," she said. "I noticed that." "That's a strange coincidence." "Or not a coincidence at all." "Meaning...?" "Meaning the Hall children went back in time, where they are...or *were*...living with a woman named Sarah Mersereau. This is proof of my theory." "Mulder, if it's true...and I'm not saying that it is...the children, and Sarah Mersereau, are going to die from the same communicable infection that killed the other inhabitants of the island in 1822." "We've got to find that time portal." "Again, assuming there is one, and I'm not saying there is--" "Nay sayer." "Assuming there is, how do we find it and what do we do once we do find it?" "Go through it and bring back the children. We--" Mulder fell silent when a black-faced sheep stepped out of the woods not fifty yards away. "Do...do you you see that?" he whispered. "I see it." They both remained transfixed as the sheep stared back at them. The animal's ears twitched when a lilting voice called out to it from the shadowed forest. "Angel. Aaangel! Well, there you are." A young woman emerged from the trees, the hem of her long dress caught up in one fist to keep it from dragging across the ground. Her expression transformed instantly to panic when she noticed Mulder and Scully watching her from the cemetery. "Sarah Mersereau?" Mulder called out to her. "Oh!" She stumbled several steps backward before bolting into the woods. Mulder and Scully went after her, racing across the graveyard to pursue her into the forest. They began to close the gap when a downed tree blocked the woman's escape. She tried to jump over it. A broken limb snagged her billowy skirt and pinned her in place. She struggled to free herself. She gave the skirt a hard yank. The fabric tore away and she scrambled over the trunk and into the forest. Mulder leapt over the blowdown behind her, but slowed to a stop on the other side. He scanned the woods. "Where did she go?" Scully asked breathlessly when she caught up with Mulder. He shrugged. "She just disappeared." They paced a wide circle around the blowdown, searching for a footprint or broken branch that would indicate the direction the woman had taken. There was nothing. "She's gone." Clearly stymied, Mulder threw up his hands. "Well, she left this behind." Scully plucked a piece of torn fabric from the branch of the downed tree. "We can have the lab analyze it. It might tell us something." Mulder nodded, then suddenly kicked at the blowdown, sending a splintered limb spiraling through the air. "Shit!" Scully placed a hand on his arm to calm him. "Let's go, Mulder." He took one last frustrated look over his shoulder before following Scully back toward the cemetery. As they drew near, they heard a child crying, its wail echoing through the trees. They quickened their pace. In the graveyard, they discovered little Julie Hall sitting between the headstones with tears streaming down her cheeks. Upon seeing Mulder and Scully, the toddler reached her arms out toward them. "Mumma, mumma, mumma," she fretted, her face red, her nose running. Scully scooped her up and settled her on one hip. The toddler collapsed exhausted against Scully's shoulder and stuffed her fist into her mouth. "What's your name, sweetie?" Scully asked her. She sniffled and wiped at her teary eyes. "Julie," she said, her voice small and frightened. "Where did you come from, Julie?" Scully asked, not really expecting an answer. She smoothed the child's fine hair away from her overheated face. "Hey, Scully, take a look at this." Mulder was crouched down in front of the Mersereau headstone. Scully bent to inspect the inscription. "Oh my God," she gasped. "Julie's name is gone!" "Do you still doubt my theory?" he asked. "Julie has returned to the present. Her name has disappeared from the tombstone because she didn't die in 1822." "I don't know what to say, Mulder. It defies all logic. Could it really be possible...?" "Go with it, Girl!" Mulder grinned up at her. "I've fine-tuned my theory, by the way, if you care to hear it." "Always." She hoped she didn't sound as uneasy as she felt. "I'm thinking that the barrier between our current time and the year 1822 may not have a single breech or portal, but several...maybe many...holes." "What...like Swiss cheese?" "Pass the ham and rye, Scully." Mulder rose to his feet. "Think about it. If there's more than one time portal on the island, it would explain how Sarah Mersereau could disappear through one, and Julie here, could return through another. The question is, how do we find these portals?" "The question is, how are there portals at all? What caused them? Why here on Little Blue Island?" "That's more than one question, Scully. And maybe we can work on those later, but right now I want to get the Hall children back in the present where they belong." "You really plan step back into another time?" She realized with some discomfort that she was buying into his theory, despite its absurdity. "It may be the only way to save those kids." "How can you be sure we'll even end up in 1822? A connecting passage between time periods is an unexplored phenomenon. We don't know anything about it. No one knows anything about it. We could end up walking into the...the Ice Age." "Not we, Scully. There's no sense in both of us taking a risk. I'll go alone." "But there's no guarantee you'll be able to get back." "Julie came back." Mulder indicated the little girl clinging to Scully. "Why shouldn't I be able to do the same?" "I don't know. And the truth is, you don't know either." Scully shifted the child in her arms. "Right now, we need to get Julie back to her parents." "You take her back while I stay and search for one of these portals. We know there are at least two in this vicinity." Mulder was already scanning the area. "No, Mulder." It was too dangerous. There were too many unknowns. "Please. If you're going to do this, I'm going with you. Let's take Julie home then return here and search the area together." "No chance. I'm flying solo on this one." Mulder was resolute. Beyond the gravestones, a thin blue-gray haze wafted inexplicably in the still air. Mulder immediately moved closer to investigate, cocking an ear toward the anomaly. Scully thought she could hear the faint bleat of a sheep coming from somewhere beyond fog. "This is it, Scully," Mulder said, clearly excited by the possibility. "Mulder, don't." He raised an arm and pushed his fingers into the mist. "Ho ho, hi ho, Snow White." He smiled back at her. "Mulder! No! Please!" Scully watched helplessly as he stepped into the fog and promptly vanished. ____________________ Little Blue Island Cemetery 1822 Mulder stepped through the curtain of fog and was a little disappointed to discover that he didn't feel changed in any way on the other side. The graveyard had altered however, even if he hadn't. The headstones were pristine, the inscriptions crisp and deep, and there weren't as many markers as there had been in the present. "In the future," he corrected himself. He was relieved to see that the Mersereau tombstone was missing, which likely indicated Sarah and the children hadn't died yet. Also missing were most of the trees and scruffy underbrush. The view from the cemetery was unobstructed and he could clearly see a small church nearby. "The old foundation," he thought, remembering the rectangular depression he had explored only a half hour earlier, a moment in time that wouldn't arrive for another hundred and seventy-eight years. He turned to look behind him, half expecting to see Scully holding little Julie Hall, anxiously watching him through the mist. Of course she wasn't there. Neither was the hazy doorway between time periods. He felt a sudden pang of guilt for leaving her so abruptly. And a little fear at being alone in a time decades prior to his own birth. The persistent bleat of a sheep drew his attention. In the field between the church and the cemetery, a lamb cried beside its grazing, black-faced mother. ____________________ Hall Residence Little Blue Island The Present 3:10 PM "I'd strongly suggest you take Julie off the Island," Scully told the Halls. "Agent Mulder and I have reason to believe the kidnapper is here on Little Blue and may try to take Julie again." Katherine Hall hugged her child more tightly. "Agent Scully, are you saying you think Justin and Courtney are still on this island?" Rick Hall was incredulous. "Yes, we think that's a possibility." Scully decided to omit Mulder's theory about time travel and portals to the past. "But Warren and I searched this island up one side and down the other. We didn't find a trace of the kids. Little Blue isn't very big. I can't think of a single place where the children could be hidden where we wouldn't have found 'em." "Mr. Hall, we spotted a young woman, possibly the kidnapper, at an old graveyard on the island's north end. That's where we found Julie, too. Agent Mulder is searching the area now and I want to get back to help him. Please, take Mrs. Hall and Julie off the island where they'll be safe." Scully wished the Halls would just go, allowing her to return to the cemetery ASAP. She had every intention of joining Mulder, wherever or whenever he had gone. "I think I should stay, Agent Scully. I know this island like the back of my hand. I could help you find the children," Rick said. "I'm sorry, Rick, but you can't help with this. We have to assume the kidnapper is armed. It's too dangerous for you to be here. You're wife and daughter need you right now." She could see from his glance at Katherine and Julie that he was ready to capitulate and take her advice; he would gather what was left of his family and leave. "Agent Mulder and I will find your children." She knew she shouldn't promise him any such thing but she was anxious for them to go so that she could get back to Mulder. ____________________ Little Blue Island Cemetery The Present 4:50 PM Scully downshifted the old pickup and pulled to a stop near the old stone foundation not far from the cemetery. She hastily slid from the seat and hurried the short distance through the woods to where she'd last seen Mulder. "Mulder? Mulder!" Her voice echoed through the trees. There was no sign of him or the strange fog through which he'd disappeared. "Damn it, Mulder." She paced around the graveyard. "Mulllderrr!" Her shout went unanswered. It was already late afternoon. She didn't have many hours of daylight left. "Mulder, where are you?" she muttered, searching frantically for any clue as to his whereabouts. A previously unnoticed headstone set firmly in the tangled roots of an ancient oak caught her eye. Maybe it was there all along, she tried to convince herself, fearful of its implication. Maybe she just hadn't noticed it before. She approached it with mounting trepidation and reluctantly tried to read the weathered inscription. When she made out the words, her throat tightened and her knees buckled. //Fox William Mulder// //'He who believes will not be in haste.' -Isaiah 28// She ran her fingers over the faint letters as tears burned her eyes. "Oh, Mulder." ____________________ Little Blue Island Cemetery 1822 The sun balanced on the horizon and the sea sparkled in the late afternoon light. Leaving the cemetery, Mulder crossed a narrow field to the church. He circled to the front door and lifted the latch. The door was unlocked, so he stepped inside. "Hello?" he called. "Hello? Is anyone here?" "Yes. Who is asking?" a voice replied from somewhere beyond the pulpit. A gentle-faced man in black stepped forward and met Mulder halfway down the pew-lined aisle. "Fox Mulder with the F...uh...I'm looking for someone. A woman. Sarah Mersereau? Do you know her?" "Yes. She lives a short distance down the road." The minister eyed Mulder curiously. "Forgive me for my discourteous manners, sir, but your attire is quite unusual. As is your accent. From where did you come?" "Uh...Massachusetts. Chilmark, Massachusetts," Mulder said, hoping his childhood home would be far enough away to be unknown to the pastor but not so distant as to be unbelievable. "Ah. Would that be near Boston?" "Yes. I...uh...sailed north last week. I'm looking for Sarah Mersereau." "So you said." The minister smiled. "My name is Daniel Johnson. You may call me Father Daniel." "Father Daniel, would I turn north or south on the road to find Sarah Mersereau?" "Are you a believer, Mr. Mulder?" The clergyman smiled at him, apparently in no hurry to send Mulder on his way. "A believer?" Mulder repeated, momentarily confused. His first thought was of the poster on his office wall. "Yes, I guess you could say I'm a 'believer,'" he answered. "'He who believes will not be in haste,'" the minister quoted. "Isaiah 28. Have you supped?" "Supped?" Mulder was once again confused. "Dined?" "No, I--" "Are you hungry?" "Uh...actually, yes. I haven't eaten since breakfast." "Then you must join me. Sister Abigail prepares my meals and always supplies more than I can possibly eat. She is an excellent cook. Please, sit down with me." Father Daniel took Mulder's elbow and smoothly guided him to the back of the church. "But...Sarah Mersereau..." Mulder reminded the minister. "Sarah will not be going anywhere, Mr. Mulder. You have plenty of time for a meal. Remember, 'He who believes...'" "'...will not be in haste,'" Mulder completed the quotation. ____________________ Little Blue Island Cemetery The Present 6:20 PM Scully often found her adherence to science was challenged by the cases she pursued with Mulder. After seven years together, she had become accustomed to considering, if not actually believing, her partner's radical perspectives. He was nothing if not persuasive. But the seriousness of his disappearance and the significance of his headstone in this graveyard implied consequences she could not bear to contemplate. She refused the notion that Mulder was dead, gone permanently from her life. Their professional relationship had evolved into an interdependence of incalculable significance to her. After all they had seen, all they had been through, their shared experiences so interwoven, they had become two parts of a singular whole. Each was incomplete without the other. For her, the prospect of a lifetime without him was simply unthinkable. She studied the inscription on the slate marker. "He who believes..." The phrase brought to mind the UFO poster hanging on the wall behind Mulder's desk and she recalled the first time she saw it: the day she met him. He was sorting slides, his back to her. On the bulletin board behind him was a startling collection of photos and newspaper clippings about paranormal phenomena: Piltdown Man, Barringer Crater, crop circles carved into Mandelbrot Sets, Viking Orbiter images of the Cydonia "Face on Mars," Nazca line drawings on the plains of Peru, pentagrams, Stonehenge, Bigfoot... She had worried the rumors that "Spooky" Mulder was more than a little crazy might in fact be true. He was so cocky and openly hostile that day, she considered turning on her heel and requesting an immediate transfer back to Quantico. But she was as stubborn as he was unconventional and she stayed on. She soon came to appreciate his open-minded brilliance as much as he relied on her scientific exactitude. They made a perfect team, complementing each other in professional manner and personal style. Not that they didn't butt heads. Often. "Why Isaiah 28?" Scully wondered, reading the inscription for the umpteenth time. She tried to remember the rest of the passage but came up blank. Mulder rarely did anything without a purpose and he loved mysteries and hidden meanings. She guessed he must have requested the inscription. He knew she would find the headstone, read the message. What was he trying to tell her? Scully straightened, uncertain what to do next. Her gaze lingered on the headstone. At last she lifted her eyes to the ancient tree above the stone. Etched deeply into the bark decades earlier were the initials "FWM + DKS," surrounded by a lopsided heart. She blinked back a rush of tears. Several yards away she spotted an identical heart incised into the trunk of another old oak. Astonished, she scanned the graveyard and realized that all of the trees were engraved with the same thing. Dozens of trees. Hundreds. Stunned, Scully covered her mouth with her hand to keep her cry inside, and although no sound escaped her lips, two enormous tears spilled down her cheeks. ____________________ Sarah Mersereau Farmstead 1822 Mulder knocked on the front door of Sarah Mersereau's home. While waiting for an answer, he peered through the twilight at the large barn across the narrow dirt road. He recognized the layout of the farmstead from the old foundation he and Scully had explored earlier. They had collected the empty Mason jar from the sill of that barn's stone underpinning only a few short hours ago. In another century, he thought, trying to keep it all straight in his exhausted mind. A light moved steadily through the house toward the front hall and Mulder heard the snick of the latch as the door swung inward. Standing before him, holding a kerosene lanturn, was the young woman he and Scully had pursued through the woods. She recognized him immediately and hurried to shut the door. He thrust out an arm and placed his palm firmly against the wooden panel before she could close him out. "You do not belong here," she told him urgently. "No kidding. Invite me in," he insisted. She shook her head but he ignored her protest, shoved the door open, and pushed past her into the front hall. "Where are the children?" "I have no idea what you are talking about." "I know they're here. I'm taking them back." "No!" Her eyes widened with fear. "The children are mine!" "The children are Rick and Katherine Hall's. You know it. You took them from their home, their parents," he said angrily, leaning close. She stood her ground. "Why did you kidnap them?" he demanded. She shrugged. "Does it matter? Is there any reason I could give that would convince you to leave them here with me? Do you care that I lost my own child two years ago? Last Christmas, I watched my little girl die, unable to help her." The memory of Scully's daughter Emily came unbidden and hit Mulder like a blow. His breath rushed audibly from his lungs and he took a step back. //Mulder, I need you to come to San Diego,// Scully's voice had sounded so far away over the phone. //I...I have a little girl.// Emily, an innocent victim of alien/human hybridization experiments. Scully watched her suffer and die. Two years had passed since then and they still didn't talk about it. "Justin and Courtney are the only children I will ever have," Sarah continued, angry tears springing to her eyes. "Do you care that I am unable to have a child of my own?" He cared more than she realized. The medical experiments that left Scully sterile, performed against her will, was another subject they didn't discuss. "I do care. Truly," his voice softened. "But the children aren't yours to keep. They have a mother and father who love them and desperately want them back." Sarah frowned at the floor, a look of guilt settling over her features. "Let me take them home," Mulder urged. "That is impossible," Sarah murmured. "The way is closed." "What do you mean?" "The way is closed," she repeated and locked eyes with him. "I don't understand. You came to the woods just this afternoon. I saw you there. I chased after you." "That was the last time I visited your world. For several days, the openings have been growing smaller, closing shut. I do not know where these openings came from or why they are shrinking, but they are. Now the openings are very small, too small for even a child to pass through." She sounded relieved. "You're lying. I came through one just a few hours ago." "Yes, from your world to mine, the openings are larger. But you cannot go back the way you came. There are openings for going and openings for coming. The openings for going are smallest, but all are shrinking. Maybe by tomorrow, there will be no openings at all." "Then I'm taking the children right now," he insisted and started through the house. "Please, no. The children are very sick." He turned to look at her and could tell from her stricken expression she was telling the truth. "Where are they?" he demanded. She led him to a small bedroom in the back of the house. She held the lantern so he could see Justin and Courtney lying feverishly together. The children's damp faces were covered with a fine, red, rough-textured rash. He put the back of his hand to Courtney's forehead and was startled by the heat that burned in the girl's skin. "They have scarlet fever," he said, recalling Scully's explanation for the deaths on the island. "Yes." "Is that why you returned Julie to my world? Because she hadn't become sick yet?" "Yes." "We have to get Justin and Courtney back to 'my world', where they can be treated," he said. "They're going to die if they stay here. I've seen their grave in the cemetery. Your grave," he told her. ____________________ Hall Residence The Present 9:34 PM Scully dialed the phone and listened impatiently to AD Kersh's answering service. "This is an emergency," she insisted when the service operator told her the Assistant Director was unavailable. "It's a matter of life and death." She left her cellphone number and sat nervously drumming her fingers while waiting for Kersh to return her call. AD Kersh was a by-the-book administrator who expected a strict adherance to Bureau protocol. Scully didn't look forward to the stern rebuke she was sure to get for calling him so late in the evening. She started to pace. Her pacing took her through the Hall's living room into the kitchen and back again. On her third pass through the living room, she noticed a copy of the Bible on a bookshelf. Curious, she lifted the book down and thumbed to Isaiah 28. She skimmed to the line she had seen carved into Mulder's tombstone. //'He who believes will not be in haste.'// //And I will make justice the line,// //And righteousness the plummet;// //And hail will sweep away the refuge of lies.// Why had Mulder chosen this quotation? What did it mean? Was he referring to their seven-year quest for the truth and their ineffectual battle against the Syndicate? She didn't need any reminders of their fruitless search for proof of a global government scheme, a conspiracy to hide the existence of extraterrestrials from the American people. The previous passage caught her eye. //Behold, I am laying in Zion for a foundation// //a stone, a tested stone,// //a precious cornerstone, of a sure foundation:// //'He who believes will not be in haste.'// That was it! He wanted her to look in the old foundation, at the cornerstone. She was certain he must have placed something there for her to find. Forgetting AD Kersh, Scully ran to the pickup truck. ____________________ Mersereau Farmstead 1822 "If Mohammed can't come to the mountain... I need some paper and ink," Mulder told Sarah, turning from the sick children. "For what?" "A message to my partner. In my world there are medicines that will save Justin's and Courtney's lives, a cure for scarlet fever. If the children and I aren't able to return to our own world, I'm hoping my partner can send some antibiotics here before it's too late." "This way." Sarah led Mulder from the children's bedroom and down the hall to a small study. She set the lamp on a desk and pulled a sheet of stationery from a drawer. She uncapped the ink well and slid a quill pen to Mulder. Mulder quickly scrawled a message to Scully. While he waited for the ink to dry, he considered how he would get the message to her. He'd have to hide the note where it would remain unfound for a hundred and seventy-eight years, in a place that would still exist in the year 2000. The old foundation. If he sealed the letter in a canning jar like the one they had found earlier, and hid the jar behind the stones in the barn's foundation, it should remain protected until Scully could retrieve it. But how would she know where to look? His mind raced through a dozen possible scenarios, rejecting each as he played it out until it dead-ended. He was running out of time. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the desktop. He had to come up with a workable solution quickly. He who believes will not be in haste, Father Daniel had quote Isaiah. "That's it," he muttered. "What is it?" Sarah asked, confused. "I've figured out how to tell my partner where to find my note. Do you have a glass canning jar?" ____________________ North end of Little Blue Island The Present 10:13 PM Scully parked Rick's pickup on the road next to the old homestead. Flashlight in hand to light her way, she hurried to the stone wall where she and Mulder had found the Mason jar earlier that morning. Methodically, she panned her light over the crumbling sill. She paused at the cornerstone. //A precious cornerstone, of a sure foundation.// She went to it and knelt, positioning her flashlight on the ground beside her to illuminate the stones. She tugged at one. It was locked tightly in place. She tried another. This one pulled free. Rolling it aside, she grabbed the flashlight and pointed its beam into the dark hole. Something smooth and glassy gleamed inside. A Mason jar! Smiling, she pulled the jar from its hiding place. The lid was stuck fast so she stood and hurled the jar against the stone wall, smashing it open. She lifted a note from the shards and gently unfolded it. //Hi Ho, Snow White,// //The portals to the future are closed and those to the past are getting smaller. The children are sick with scarlet fever and need medicine. We can't get back. Find an opening near here and send antibiotics.// //Looks like you can take my cellphone number off your speed dial.// //--Dopey// Scully stared at Mulder's handwriting, blinking in disbelief. "We can't get back." Her cell chirped loudly, startling her. Pulling it from her pocket, her first thought was that the incoming call was inexplicably from Mulder. "Scully," she answered, eager to hear his familiar voice. "Agent Scully, this is AD Kersh returning your call." Scully slumped in disappointment. "Yes, sir. I was calling to request a forensic evidence recovery team." "A recover..." He huffed with impatience. "Have you located the children's bodies?" "No. But I've located Agent Mulder's body. I'd like it exhumed first thing in the morning." "Agent Mulder's body?" "Send his dental records with the team, sir," she added. "Please." "Of course, Agent Scully." Kersh's usual gruff tone softened with concern. "I'll send a team out ASAP. Is there anything else you need?" "Penicillin." ____________________ Little Blue Island Cemetery 1822 Early Morning Mulder leaned against the trunk of a young oak and watched as daylight crept across the cemetery. He was stiff from spending the night on the ground and weary from lack of sleep. He pulled his coat tightly across his chest and shivered from the damp. He missed Scully. After his sister's abduction when he was twelve until Scully stepped into his office twenty years later, Mulder had felt profound loneliness. Accustomed to fighting his own battles, he developed a defensive cockiness that kept everyone at arm's length. He purposefully avoided connecting emotionally with others in a not-so-subconscious effort to avoid the pain of eventual loss. Until Scully, that is. Her introduction into his life had struck him like a Peterbilt without breaks careening down Mount Washington. Flattened him completely. For their first two years together, Mulder tried to ignore, avoid, and deny his feelings for his new partner, with some modicum of success. But when Duane Barry kidnapped Scully from her apartment, Mulder knew he couldn't be without her. Her absence nearly drove him mad. Four weeks later, she was returned and his relief was profound. But two years after that, a disease threatened to take her from him. She fought and won her battle with cancer, only to be abducted yet again and whisked away to Antarctica, where thankfully he managed to find and save her one more time. Now, he couldn't bring himself to consider the years that stretched ahead of him without her, the nearly two centuries that lay between them. I'll never kiss her again, he thought with regret. He should have kissed her more. And not just kisses meant to comfort her -- and him -- on her forehead, on her cheek, on her fingertips when she was sad, or hurt, or dying. And that one time on New Year's Eve to celebrate the new millennium and their escape from killer zombies and the coming Apocolypse. What he wanted, what he truly wished, was that he had kissed her as a lover, to show her what she really meant to him, what he had never told her. That he loved her. With all his heart. And he had felt that way for a very long time. Gripped with a sudden impulse, Mulder dug into his pocket and removed his penknife. He stood to face the young oak. Scully's eye level would be about eight or nine inches below his own. He chose a likely spot and began to carve the first thing that came to his mind: their initials within a heart. Cliché, he knew. He wanted to add something with more meaning, something that would demonstrate more accurately the feelings he had for her, but he was at a loss. It seemed as difficult for him to write a heartfelt sentiment as it had always been to say one. Mulder recalled his final words to Scully: Hi ho, hi ho, Snow White. A joke, spoken without much thought, as usual. She would understand and forgive him, he knew. She had forgiven him for far more serious transgressions than a simple, off-the-cuff remark. But his flippancy irked him none-the-less. He considered cutting their initials into every tree on the island, with the hope that the sheer number of them might convey the depth of his feelings for her. I love you, Scully, he thought and, moving to another tree, began to inscribe the bark with his knife. ____________________ Little Blue Island Cemetery The Present 6:50 AM Scully leaned wearily against the old oak as two men worked at its roots to unearth Mulder's remains. She fingered the little jar of penicillin pills in her pocket. As soon as she was finished here, she would search for one of the remaining time portals and try to send the medicine back to Mulder. "Agent Scully, we're all set," one of the forensic specialists informed her. She steeled herself to examine what was left of her partner's skeleton. The bones were packaged neatly in evidence bags. All meticulously labeled. All photographed in situ before being bagged. She lifted the skull and turned it over to examine the upper teeth. A left molar contained a filling that matched exactly the one in the x-ray from Mulder's dentist. She set the bag down with care among the others and wondered when and how Mulder had died. No dates were carved in his headstone. She studied the marker's inscription again. "A cryptic message from the grave, Mulder," she muttered. "That is so you." "Agent Scully? Where do you want us to send the remains?" the specialist asked. "To his mother. Tena Mulder. Chilmark, Massachusetts." Scully strode away, crossing the short distance to the road. "Agent Scully?" the specialist called out to her. She halted, but kept her back to both him and Mulder's grave. "AD Kersh said you'd be returning with us to DC." "I'll be back in half an hour. We'll go then," she told him irritably. She climbed into the cab of the pickup and slammed the door shut. A cloud of dust billowed out from the truck's rear wheels as she tore down the road to the island's north end. ____________________ Mersereau Farmstead 1822 Mulder paced around the barn again, more slowly this time, searching for any sign of the pills from Scully. He was certain she would figure out the meaning behind his epitaph and be led to the note he'd tucked into the barn's stone foundation. "Come on, Scully. Don't let me down." As he kicked through the grass it occurred to him that any number of things could have gone wrong. The note he'd placed in the jar may have been discovered by someone years before he and Scully ever arrived on the island. Or maybe Father Daniel would ignore his dying wish to have the line from Isaiah inscribed on his tombstone. Or it was possible that all the portals between the future and the past had already closed and Scully had no way to get the medicine to him. Disheartened, Mulder lowered himself onto the ground and leaned exhausted against the barn's cornerstone. The morning fog had finally burned off and the sun warmed his face. He ran a hand wearily over the rough stubble of his unshaved chin. Without the medicine, the Hall children will die, he thought bleakly, and I'll have left Scully to come here for nothing. ____________________ North end of Little Blue Island The Present 7:39 AM Scully walked around the foundation one more time. Discouraged, she sat down with her back against the sun-warmed cornerstone. She let the stone's heat radiate into her. "What am I looking for, Mulder?" she asked the empty landscape. She worried that she was too late, that the last portal had already closed. Forty-five minutes had passed since she'd left the forensic evidence recovery team at the cemetery. They would be looking for her soon, to take her off the island and back to DC. Would her memories of Mulder evaporate once she left the island? If Mulder had died in the 1800s, that would mean they would not be partnered in 1992. They would not have worked together on the X-Files. But, if they had never worked on the X-Files because Mulder had died in a previous century, then they would not have come to Little Blue Island in the first place. Which would mean he never traveled back in time and died in the 1800s and he'd still be working at the FBI and she would still be his partner. Her head began to ache as her thoughts ran in circles. There was no logical way to wrap her mind around the idea of time travel. She propped her chin on her fist and stared out across the spring landscape to the bay beyond. The lights on the enormous towers at the Naval Computer and Telecommunications Station blinked hypnotically at her from the nearby peninsula. Poised there on the eastern edge of the continent, they were capable of picking up and sending messages to Naval craft throughout the Atlantic. On a hunch, Scully pulled her cell phone from her pocket and punched in the Lone Gunmen's number. After several rings, Frohike picked up. "Lone Gunmen," he said. "Turn off the tape, Frohike," Scully said, fully aware that the Gunmen recorded all of their phone conversations. "Agent Scully, to what do I owe this pleasure?" "Turn off the tape." She heard the click when he hit the switch. "I need your help." "Oooo, a damsel in distress. What can your Prince Charming do for you today?" "Can it, Frohike. I need some information on the Naval Computer and Telecommunications Station in Cutler, Maine." "Are you and Mulder in Maine?" Langley's nasal twang cut in. "Yes. And I need to know exactly what they do at the Navy station. I also want to know if they've performed any out-of-the-ordinary tests or activities during the past two weeks. Can you get me that information?" "It'll mean hacking into the U.S. Navy's database, but that shouldn't be a problem," Langley said. "You want us to call Mulder when we've got something?" "You'll have to call me. Mulder is..." She was uncertain what to tell them. "He's not available. Thanks, guys." She disconnected the call. A thin blue-gray haze drifted in the air just beyond the foundation. Scully rose from the cornerstone. Staring at the patch of fog, she saw nothing unusual beyond it. But even so, she was fairly certain this must be one of the time portals. It was considerably smaller than the portal Mulder had stepped through the day before but in all other ways, it looked the same. She dug the container of pills from her pocket and pitched it into the fog. It disappeared the moment it hit the fog. "Mulder?" she shouted into the mist, "Mulder, I'm going to get you home! Do you hear me?" ____________________ Mersereau Farmstead 1822 //"Mulder? Mulder, I'm going to get you home! Do you hear me?"// Mulder's head snapped up at Scully's faint call. "Scully? Scully!" He was instantly on his feet. "Scully, are you there?" He paused to listen, but heard only by the squawk of seagulls and the splash of ocean waves. Spying a container of pills in the long grass, Mulder scooped up the bottle and popped off the lid. He was a little disappointed to find that Scully hadn't included a note but was relieved to have the medicine for the children. He recapped the bottle and hurried across the road to the farmhouse. ____________________ Little Blue Island Cemetery The Present 8:06 AM "Agent Scully. We were just coming to look for you," the evidence recovery team leader said as Scully hopped from the pickup. She brushed past him without an acknowledgment and went directly to the Mersereau tomb, leaving the bewildered young man trailing after her like a lost puppy. She knelt before the stone and exhaled with relief. //SARAH MERSEREAU// //1797-1822// The children hadn't died. At least not in 1822. Mulder must have gotten the penicillin. "Agent Scully? We need to go," the team leader said. "I'm staying." "But...uh, ma'am...AD Kersh...?" Scully leveled her eyes at him. "I said I'm staying," she repeated in a steady, low tone that defied argument. The man nervously scratched his head, clearly reluctant to disobey Kersh's orders and leave her. "Go," she insisted. "I'll speak to Kersh myself." "All right, ma'am." He looked as if he wanted to say more, but he turned away and left. ____________________ Mersereau Farmstead 1822 "These will make the children well?" Sarah stared at the pills Mulder held in his palm. "Yes. Do you have some water?" Mulder asked. Sarah filled a drinking glass from a pitcher at the children's bedside. Mulder sat on the edge of the bed and gently drew Courtney to him. She barely stirred as he positioned her in the crook of his arm. Her neck and face glowed with a fiery rash. Her inner elbows were streaked bright red. Mulder tilted her head back and opened her mouth with his thumb. Pressing down on her strawberry-colored tongue, he nudged a pill to the back of her throat. The girl started to gag. Mulder took the glass of water from Sarah and held it to Courtney's lips. He poured a little of the cool liquid into the girl's mouth and she swallowed, downing the pill at the same time. Tenderly, he laid her back against her pillow and repeated the process with her brother. "Now what?" Sarah asked. "We wait." ____________________ Hall Residence The Present 10:06 AM Scully waited impatiently for Frohike's call. Twice she started to dial his number to get an update, only to hang up before punching in the final digit, chiding herself for not trusting him to call as soon as he had something to report. She wasn't sure what she expected they would find. She had no evidence to suggest the Naval Station was in some way involved in the anomalous events on Little Blue, only a gut feeling. If he had been with her, Mulder would have enjoyed poking fun at her for this uncharacteristic hunch. She dropped onto the Hall's sofa and sighed. She crossed her arms. She uncrossed her arms and sighed again. She picked up her cell phone from the coffee table and stared at it. "Ring, God damn it!" The phone chirped loudly in her hand and she almost dropped it. She fumbled to press the receive button. "Scully," she finally managed to say. "Gotta hand it to you, Agent Scully, you really know how to pick 'em," Frohike spoke with admiration in his voice. "How did you know?" "Know what? I don't know anything. What did you find out?" "Are you on a secure line?" he asked in a hushed tone. "Hardly. This is my cell." "You gave us your cell number?" Frohike asked incredulously. "And you're practically sitting on the U.S. Navy's premier telecommunication systems station?" He was all but calling her nuts. Now she knew how Mulder felt when she used the same tone with him. "I don't have a lot of options, Frohike. Can you tell me anything or not?" She could hear him confer with Langley and Byers in the background. "Yeah. I guess it'll be okay. After what we uncovered, we figure the Navy is much too busy to be monitoring our little phone call." "So..." she prompted. "So, the Navy has been conducting some very unusual tracking tests," Langley cut in. "What was so unusual about the tests?" "Well, once I hacked into their database -- which was a piece of cake, by the way since they've got the poorest excuse for firewalls I've ever seen -- we could see that they're scrambling to make sense of their own results." "Back up, Langley. What have they been doing?" "Oh. Using Doppler shift they were expanding low frequency sound waves to fill more time. And I don't mean filling time like wasting time, I mean filling time like in the physical sense...not that you usually think of time in a physical sense." "Why would they do that?" Scully had very little patience for Langley's annoying habit of meandering off the subject on meaningless tangents. "Why do they do anything? Who knows? What we do know is the sound originated on a sub moving away from the Cutler tower array. A series of short, high-intensity bursts, magnified by what I can't imagine...water's a great conductor for sound, much better than air, but that alone isn't enough to explain what happened--" "Langley, what *did* happen?" "I'm getting to that. They echoed the sound back to the underwater array. They have miles of antenna cable laid out on the ocean floor from the Station. Some are more than three miles long..." "Langley! The point, please!" "Okay, okay. Somehow...and they're still trying to figure this out...they managed to expand the sound so much it actually stretched time and tore it." "Tore it?" "Yeah. You know. Ripped. Shredded. Punched holes in it. Whatever." "Do they plan to try this again? Conduct some more tests?" "Are you kidding? They don't know what to make of the data they have right now. I think the results have scared them." "Damn it. Is there any way we can recreate the Navy's test?" "Now you are kidding, right? Hell, they don't even know what they did." "Damn it." "Why? What's happened? Where is Mulder by the way?" Langley asked. "Langley, look up Little Blue Island, Maine in your online atlas." She waited while he rapidly tapped his keyboard. "Oh." "Yeah. Well. I appreciate the information, guys..." Scully paused, at a loss for words. "We weren't really much help, were we?" Byers' voice came on the line for the first time. "I guess not." "What's happened to Mulder?" he asked softly. "I like to think of him alive and well in the year 1822. But I just sent his bones to Massachusetts. I'm sorry, guys." They were quiet on the other end for a moment. "Agent Scully?" Frohike asked at length. "Is there anything we can do? For you I mean." Scully was touched. They had all suffered a loss. "No. Thank you though. I'll see you when I return to Washington." She disconnected the call. ____________________ Mersereau Farmstead 1822 Mulder hated waiting. He knew it was too early to expect a change in the children's condition, it would probably be days before they recovered, but he was eager to see some results. "Mr. Mulder, it is nice to see you again." Father Daniel strolled down the road and joined Mulder sitting on Sarah Mersereau's front step. "She would not let you in?" The minister tilted his head at Sarah's front door and winked. "She let me in. I let myself back out" "I saw your handiwork at the cemetery," Father Daniel said, changing the subject. "Do you plan to carve every tree on the island?" "I guess that depends on how long I live." "'DKS' must be quite remarkable." "She is that." "Why are you not with her?" "Because I'm one sorry son of a bitch." ____________________ Little Blue Island The Present 11:46 AM Scully set her duffle next to Mulder's on the dock. She had phoned Warren Bailey, the Hall's nearest neighbor, and asked him to ferry her back to the mainland. "Sorry about your partner," Bailey said as he lifted the two bags over the side rail. She wondered how many times she would hear those words over the next few weeks and how she could possibly endure it. She thought about taking some time off from work, maybe staying with her mother, but rejected the idea when she realized it would fall on her to clean out Mulder's office. Probably his apartment, too. She doubted Tena Mulder was well enough after her stroke to handle the job. And it would be a big job; Mulder was such a pack rat. She also doubted Mulder would want his mother to see some of the things he stored in his apartment. His back issues of Celebrity Skin would be enough to give his mother another stroke, not to mention his dubious triple-X video library. She considered having his entire pornography collection cremated with him, but figured he probably willed it to Frohike. His will, she thought with dread. That was another item she'd have to face. Mulder had made her executor of his estate after his mother's stroke. Bailey held out a hand to help Scully onto the boat. She was about to step aboard when her cell phone rang. "Sorry," she apologized before putting the phone to her ear. "Scully." "You still on Little Blue Island?" Frohike asked in a rush. "Yes. I was just getting on a boat to leave. Why?" "Well, don't go yet. It appears the Navy has plans to recreate its earlier tests." "Why would they do that?" "All we can figure is that Mulder isn't the only one trapped in the past. From what little info we've been able to gather, a few recruits have gone missing, too. We think the Navy wants them back." "When's this going to happen?" "Oh-two-hundred. Need any help?" "No, thanks. I got it. And Frohike?" She smiled. "Yeah?" "I owe you a big kiss." "He muerto y he ido al cielo!" he said. "And, oh, Agent Scully?" "What is it, Frohike?" "The Navy's only going to send out one low-frequency burst. You may not have a lot of time." ____________________ North end of Little Blue Island The Present 1:51 PM Scully paced the road beside the old foundation at the Mersereau farmstead. Her plan was little more than a wish and a prayer. If the Naval Station's test somehow managed to recreate the anomalous condition on Little Blue exactly as it had earlier, she would step back into 1822, find Mulder and the Hall children, and bring them back to their own time. However, she had no idea where a time portal might open up, or if any would open at all. And she didn't know how long she'd have to get them all back before the portals closed for good. She checked her watch. Three minutes to go. Across the bay at the Station nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary. The towers' lights winked predictably on and off. There was no sign that the Navy was gearing up for a top secret, experimental operation. Two minutes. She scanned the area around her, familiarizing herself with the layout. The shallow pit that was once the farmhouse would look much different in the year 1822 and she didn't want to become disoriented, wasting valuable time. She tried to picture the farmhouse facing the large barn across the road. One minute. Scully shifted from foot to foot. Double-checked she had her weapon on her. Laced her fingers together and loudly cracked her knuckles before shaking the kinks from her hands. She held her breath. Two o'clock on the dot. Nothing happened. Scully grunted in frustration. She turned, searching in all directions for any telltale sign that might indicate an opening to the past. There was nothing. "Damn it!" Frohike's intel must have been inaccurate or something went wrong with the test. She yanked her cell from her coat pocket only to slide it slowly back in place when a blue-gray drape of mist formed between her and the old foundation. Without a moment's hesitation, she strode through it and vanished from the year 2000. ____________________ Mersereau Farmstead 1822 Scully emerged on the other side of the portal and inhaled the familiar scent of pine and sea. Although she could still hear the ocean waves lapping at the shore and gulls crying overhead, her surroundings appeared completely changed. The large barn looked practically new, as did the farmhouse. Sheep grazed on new spring grass to the east and neat rows of young apple trees bloomed on the gentle slope behind the house to the west. Scully quickly mounted the front steps of the farmhouse and knocked loudly on the door. Impatient, she was about to rap again when the door swung inward and the woman she and Mulder had chased through the woods peered out. "Sarah Mersereau?" Scully asked and the woman nodded. "Where are the children?" Looking resigned, Sarah stepped aside so Scully could enter the house. "This way." She guided Scully to a back bedroom. Courtney and Justin Hall lay awake but exhausted looking in a small bed. Scully crossed the room and placed a hand on Courtney's forehead. The girl felt warm but not feverish. "Have you been giving them the pills?" Scully asked Sarah. "Yes." "Who are you?" Courtney asked Scully in a weak voice. "My name is Dana Scully. I'm a doctor. I've come to make sure you and your brother are getting better." Scully smiled and decided not to tell the children they might be returning to their own time, at least not until she was certain she could make it happen. "How do you feel, sweetie?" "Better. See my new doll?" Courtney held up a rag doll. "She's very pretty," Scully said. "Does she have a name?" "Not yet. I just call her 'Baby.'" Scully turned her attention to Justin. The rash of scarlet fever was fading from his cheeks. "How about you? Are you feeling better, too?" she asked. "I want to go home," he said glumly. Scully tilted her head toward the door and told Sarah, "Let's talk." Sarah paled but moved into the hall with Scully. "I'm taking them back with me," Scully told Sarah, keeping her voice low so the children couldn't overhear. "No. Please don't." "They don't belong here. As soon as I find Mulder, the four of us are going back to our own time. Now, tell me where he is." "I do not know where he is." "You're lying." "No, I am not lying. He left here this morning with Father Daniel." "Where did they go?" "They did not say." "Where *might* they go?" Scully asked, trying to control her anger. Sarah simply shrugged. "Well, I'll find him and when I do, we'll be back for the children," Scully warned. ____________________ Island Road Little Blue Island 1822 Scully stalked down the road away from the Mersereau farm. Since it was the only road on the island, she felt confident she'd find Mulder if she just kept walking. The dirt lane looked much as it had when she and Mulder walked along it yesterday, except the landscape was more open. Far fewer trees, especially evergreens, crowded the center of the island. Sheep were everywhere, grazing freely in open fields or under young oaks. Ahead, a small church came into view. It was plain in design and capped with a modest steeple. Judging from its distance from the farmstead, she guessed it must be the building that had once stood on the rock-lined pit she and Mulder found near the overgrown cemetery. Looking past the church, she glimpsed a neat tree-lined graveyard, its little fence freshly painted and looking like new. Sarah had mentioned that Mulder left with someone named Father Daniel and since a church was a logical place to look for a clergyman, she went straight to it, climbed the short set of stairs, and let herself in through the front door. "Hello?" she called down the shadowed aisle toward the pulpit. "Is anyone here?" "Yes. Hello," a man's voice answered behind her, startling her. He closed the door behind him and joined Scully halfway to the pulpit. "I apologize. I did not mean to frighten you." He smiled warmly. "My name is Father Daniel. Is there something I can do for you?" "I'm Dana Scully. I'm looking for Fox Mulder. I was told he was with you earlier today." "Ahh! So you are the enigmatic DKS." He chuckled. "Excuse me?" "Mr. Mulder has immortalized you on many of the local trees." "Right. Of course. Do you know where he is now?" "Probably carving another tree. Your Mr. Mulder is very single-minded. Try looking out back." Without bidding him thanks or goodbye, she hurried down the aisle and out of the church. Her pulse thundered in her ears, her desire to see Mulder was so great. Although they had walked side-by-side only yesterday, it felt like a lifetime ago when she watched him step through the time portal and vanish from her life. That one split second had threatened to separate them permanently and completely by a hundred and seventy-eight years. She jogged the short distance to the cemetery and slowed only when she spotted Mulder lying on his back beneath a tree. The same tree, she realized, that would one day mark his grave. The tree with their initials and a heart carved on it, then as now. He was asleep, one arm shading his eyes against the afternoon sun. She tried to calm her rapid breathing as she approached. Kneeling beside him, she traced a finger along the stubble of his jaw. He stirred and when his lashes lifted, she smiled into his sleepy green eyes. "Snow White," he murmured. She reached for him, slid her hands around him, and hugged him as tightly as she could. In response, he wrapped his arms around her, too, and buried his face in her hair. "I didn't think I'd see you again," she said, her words catching in her throat, tears pricking her eyes. "Shhhh," he hushed into her ear. "That's the trouble with you, Scully. You don't believe in extreme possibilities. Now me, I've been right here waiting for you to come save me." "You don't understand." Her voice was muffled against the rough skin of his cheek. "I saw your body. I...oh, God, Mulder. I sent your bones back to your mother." "I better call her if and when we get back to a time when there are phones. You didn't give Frohike my video collection, did you?" He pushed her back just far enough to look at her face. "It's good to see you. You really are the fairest of them all." She felt her face heat at his compliment. "Mulder, we don't have much time. We need to hurry if we're going to get the children back to our own century." She stood He rose to his feet, too. "I thought all the portals were closed. Not that I'm complaining, but how the hell did you get here?" "I'll explain later. Right now, we have to go." ____________________ Mersereau Farmstead 1822 Mulder pounded on Sarah Mersereau's front door with the heel of his hand. "Sarah!" he shouted. He tried the latch and found the door locked. "Sarah!" It was Scully's turn to yell. "Try telling her you're from the FBI," Mulder suggested. "Very funny. Got any other ideas?" "Yep. Stand back," he warned and heaved his shoulder into the door. The wood splintered around the latch and the door burst inward. He hurried to the children's bedroom, Scully at his heels, only to find it empty. "She can't have gone far. This is an island, after all." "She may try to leave by boat. Let's check the shore," Scully said. With Mulder taking the lead, they hurried from the house and down the sloping field to the shore, where a pebbly, crescent-shaped beach rimmed the cove. At the far end they spotted Sarah tugging hard on Justin's arm, trying to get him into a wooden dory at the water's edge. The boy was protesting loudly. Courtney already sat perched in the bow of the boat, her face flushed and frightened and her rag doll clutched tightly against her chest. The agents never slowed. They ran full-tilt down the beach toward the children and their kidnapper. Halfway there, Scully drew her weapon and aimed it at Sarah. "Let him go!" she shouted. "No! You will not take them!" Sarah yelled back as the boy struggled to free himself from her grasp. Mulder reached the woman and boy first. He hooked an arm around Justin's waist and easily yanked him loose. He carried Justin up the slope of beach and deposited him safely in the field grass above. Seeing that she had lost the boy, Sarah turned to the dory carrying little Courtney and shoved it into the outgoing tide. "Stop!" Scully demanded. Sarah ignored the command and pushed the dory further into the sea. Knee-deep in water, waves swirled her long skirt around her legs. She clutched the gunwale and hauled herself into the boat. Mulder splashed after her into the ice-cold water. By the time he was waist deep, Sarah was seated with an oar in each hand. Mulder waded in deeper. Only a few feet seperated him from the boat. Sarah pulled on the oars. Mulder lunged for the starboard oar, plunging himself neck-deep in the frigid seawater. A jolt of cold slammed painfully through him. "No!" Sarah stood, pulling the oar from its lock. She lifted it high overhead. Swinging it at Mulder's head, she caught him painfully across his chin. Blood gushed from the wound. Sarah raised the oar a second time. Mulder raised an arm to protect himself. A gun blast startled them both. Sarah dropped the oar into the boat. A stain of crimson mushroomed across the bodice of her dress. She gazed down at it just before she collapsed into the V-shaped stern. Mulder dove forward, ignoring the blood spurting from his chin, and latched onto the dory's gunwale. With fingers numbed by the chilly water, he struggled to haul himself aboard. Once in, he set the oar back in its lock and rowed to shore. He beached the boat above the waterline where Scully waited to lift Courtney from her seat in the bow. "Hurry, Mulder. I don't know how much time we have." She held Courtney in her arms. Mulder knelt in the boat to feel for Sarah Mersereau's pulse. "She's dead, Scully." "Leave her. There's no time." Mulder nodded and jumped from the dory, joining Scully and the children on the beach. Scully passed Courtney to Mulder and reached for Justin's hand. "Let's go," she said and led them quickly up the beach to the farmstead. When they reached the house, Mulder and Scully began frantically looking for a passage back to their own time. "There!" Scully pointed. Near the barn's cornerstone. A drape of mist. A portal home. "Women and children first." Mulder smiled and set Courtney on her feet. Scully took the children's hands and led them through the blue-gray haze. Mulder followed closely behind, his hand pressed lightly to the small of Scully's back. ____________________ FBI Headquarters Washington, DC The Present 3:30 PM Mulder leaned back in his desk chair and studied his "I Want to Believe" poster while trying not to scratch at the itchy stitches along his lower jaw. Six in all dotted his chin. Shaving was going to be a challenge for a while. "You look comfortable," Scully said, entering the office. "I am comfortable. I'm back where -- and when -- I belong." He swiveled the chair to face her. "There's no place like home, Mulder." She settled a hip against the corner of his desk. "Did you learn anything more from the Gunmen about the experiments going on at the Naval Station?" "No. Apparently there are limits even to their 'king fu.'" "Another government secret we'll never uncover." "Never say never, Scully." He plucked a pencil from the cupful on his desk and tested the point with his finger. "How are the kids?" "Physically, they're fine. They'll have no lasting effects from scarlet fever, thanks to the penicillin you gave them. But the Halls plan to remain on the mainland for a while, at least until Justin and Courtney stop having nightmares." "Speaking of the penicillin, I have a question that's been bugging me," he said, pointing the pencil at her. "What's that?" "Why...why didn't you include a note in the bottle?" "A note? Saying what?" "Oh, I don't know. Something like 'I miss you, Mulder.'" "Mulder, you were the one who wrote to me saying I should take your number off my speed dial. If you wanted to be pen-pals, you should have said so in your own note." "If I had to ask you to write to me, it wouldn't be the same as if you'd thought to do it yourself." "What? Why not?" "Because, Scully. Let's say you asked me to...to bring you flowers and you asked it every day for a week. Then on Friday, I present you with a bouquet for your desk. Would the flowers have any meaning?" "I have a desk?" "Okay, let me rephrase. A bouquet for our office." "Our office would look nice with flowers." "That's not my point." "What is your point?" "My point is..." He stood and moved to stand in front of her. Touching the point of his pencil to the tip of her nose, he said, "The point is, if you have to be asked, the gesture isn't genuine." "Genuine what?" She grabbed the pencil and set it on his desk. "A genuine representation of a real feeling." "What feelings are we talking about here?" He cocked his head and locked eyes with her. "Your feelings." "My feelings? My feelings about what?" "You realize, don't you, Scully, you're making my point right now by asking me to give you the answer to that question." "What? I don't get it." "Point and match. Fox Mulder wins the round, but loses the game." He moved away and heaved himself back into his chair with a frown and dissatisfied sigh. "I have no clue what you're talking about, Mulder." "Obviously." She waited for him to expound, but when he said nothing more, she prompted, "So are you going to tell me?" "No." "No?" "No. Scully, if I ask you to feel certain feelings, it doesn't have any meaning when you feel them." "Huh?" "Nothing." "Mulder, are you saying you want to bring me flowers?" "No." "You want me to bring you flowers?" "No, this has nothing to do with flowers. It has to do with the note. Or lack thereof." "You want me to write you a note? I can write you a note if you want one. Do you want a note?" "Not...if...I...have...to...ask...for...it." "What difference does it make, Mulder?" "Scully..." Mulder rose from his chair to stand in front of her again. Tugging her up from the desk, he bent down to look directly into her eyes. "Scully, how do you feel about me?" "I feel like you're driving me nuts." "No, what I mean is...and it really burns my ass to have to ask...what are your feelings toward me?" "Feelings?" "Yeah, you know, like love...or hate...or love?" He twirled a lock of her hair around his index finger. She swallowed visibly. "I guess I'd have to say I care a lot about you." "You care a 'lot' about me. What exactly does that mean? Does that mean maybe...you might...maybe...sort of...love me?" Shit, this was making him sweat. It seemed to be making her nervous, too. "Well..." She hesitated. Began again. "I...guess you could say I love you." "I don't want to know what I could say. I want to know what you say." They stood toe-to-toe. "Are you asking me to tell you I love you?" She was flustered. "No, I don't want to ask, because then your answer won't be genuine. It won't represent your true feelings; it will only be a weak reflection of my request. Get it now?" "I...I get it." She peered up at him. "So, Mulder, do you want me to tell you I love you?" "Oh, hell." Mulder decided he didn't need to hear her say it. He placed his mouth to her lips and kissed her. Not like a partner or a friend, but finally, finally, as a lover. THE END "Mmmm...ah...Mul...mmm...Mulder." "Shut up, Scully, I'm trying to kiss you." "Mm...yeah...I...mmm...know, but..." "But what?" "Mmmmmm...did you...mm...ah...remember to call your...mmmm...ahh...mother?" "Oh, shhhhit."