Title: Once More with Feeling
Category: MSR, Angst
Spoilers: The Field Where I Died is really all you need to
have seen to get any of this. However, I would suggest you be
familiar with all the seasons up through Season 5.
Timeline: Starts during and right after The Field Where I Died
and the rest takes place a little over a year later after The
Red and the Black.
Summary: I can't live without you again.
Feedback: That would be nice. Please. I ain't too proud to
beg, but I would rather it not come to that.
Website: Check out my other stories at
Archive: I don't mind if you do. Just keep it as it is and let
Disclaimer: Ah yes, the disclaimer . . . the bane of my
existence. If you must know these characters and the basic
plot line are not mine and never will be. Chris Carter and the
gang are responsible for this stroke of genius; I just like to
have my way with his creation sometimes.
Much thanks goes to . . .: Sara Bowen for being such a great
fiend and always being ready to beta and fix my mistakes-o-
plenty. To comma or not to comma? Also, thank you Chris,
Gillian, David and crew for successfully making this show my
obsession. And of course, thank YOU for reading my story!
Author's Notes: First and foremost I will confess that not all
of this stays true to the 'facts' from The Field Where I Died.
Tiny things have been changed, so tiny that having the script
in front of you is the only way you can catch them. Some
people though . . . Anyhow, I did do a small amount of
research on the Civil War and other things related to this
story. Very different from the military of our world today. I
have always liked this episode for some reason. I think it
mostly centers on the lovely idea of Mulder and Scully always
being meant to meet one another in each life. Many shippers
hated it and I COMPLETELY understand, but I am hoping my story
will make it easier to digest. I came up with this idea and
ran with it. It is pretty different from what I usually write,
but I think that it turned out rather nicely. And now let us
journey back to a time before Diana and Seasons Eight and
Nine, when life was beautiful. Well, about as beautiful as it
can get with the paranormal gallivanting around freely and
government conspiracies lurking in the shadows. Read and
The vibrant orange and yellows of the sun's rays shone through
the tree branches, the breeze kissing the leaves to move in a
silent dance. Amid the tall grass stood a broken man.
His mind was lost. His memories were lost. He was lost. The
antique photographs haunted him. The phantom faces of a
mysterious past hypnotized him beyond words and he couldn't
Behind him, footsteps muted by the tall grass approached his
sunken body. A hand graced his forearm and a familiar voice
set free his wondering mind.
"Mulder, let's get out of here." Her voice was quiet and she
tried to hide her sadness with a mask of strength.
Her eyes drifted to the photos clasped in her partner's hands.
"Let it go, Mulder." Scully whispered these words as any
friend would to another.
Mulder nodded and his hold on the pictures relaxed. Scully
took the photos from him and placed them carefully in her coat
pocket. Moving in front him, she searched his eyes. The hazel
had darkened to almost an emerald, the sadness taking the
Leaning into him, she encircled his mid-section and placed her
cheek to his chest. Once more she spoke, but these words were
carried off with a gust of wind.
"Just let it go."
The Next Day
Mulder sat at his desk, pensive. Between his fingers he
fidgeted with a pencil, staring at it as if it held all the
answers to his questions.
Scully approached him, sitting on the edge of the desk, her
face twisted into a concerned expression. He'd been this way
He had every right to be distant. He'd believed in a life- or
rather--many lives where he was destined to lose those he
loved. In his mind history was repeating itself. However, one
thing troubled her. Had he loved this woman who only made a
brief appearance into his life?
"You okay, Mulder?" Scully asked, her previous thoughts at
rest for the time being.
"I was just thinking." His eyes were still mesmerized by the
"It changed." Mulder finally brought his dark hazel depths to
her pools of blue.
"Everything, Scully, the roles were switched." He set the
pencil back into the holder, his body relaxing into the chair.
Recognizing what he meant, Scully moved to the chair across
the desk from Mulder.
Hesitating, he made himself more comfortable in the chair.
Scully didn't believe in all this, but he had things on his
mind. Things that he couldn't hold in. She was his partner,
his best friend, he could talk to her. And she would listen.
"In the past, I was always the one to leave her, either by
death or separation, leaving her to live her life alone. But
it changed. She was the one who left this time. She died
Scully nodded, taking in Mulder's observation. He wasn't
finished, but his silence gave room for Scully to ask about
the one thing that troubled her in all this.
"I don't want to get too personal, Mulder, but," Scully
cleared her throat, "did you or could you have loved her? Was
it meant to be?"
The questions didn't seem to bother Mulder. He contemplated
them before he responded.
"I was meant to find her, to know her, I believe that. But to
love her? No. That time passed long ago. I think we finally
got it right this time."
"Why do you say that?"
"Well when I died or left her, you were always with me in some
way or another when it happened. Or I was with you. Sarah or
Sydney, whoever, always lived on. Now it is us who have
surpassed her in life. Together. Yeah, I think we got it right
This brought a smile to Scully's face. Despite her disbelief
in it all, it was a beautiful thought. To unknowingly be meant
to encounter a soul that you were bound to no matter what.
Mulder took notice of her upturned mouth.
"That amuse you, Scully?" It wasn't accusatory. If she was
amused, he was amused.
"No, well, not amused . . . I just . . . it's poetic. I like
the thought that--if I did believe in all this--that we were
meant to be together, in some way. But, Mulder, I think the
hardest thing for me to understand is . . . why would a soul
continue to repeat such a tortured life? It just kept
happening to you, Mulder. I just don't want you getting into
the frame of mind that you have to go where life leads you,
not where you lead life. You have choices, Mulder, and I want
you to keep making them. This is the lifetime that matters."
"We come back to fix things,Scully. To make it right. I think
we have now. My souls are at peace now."
I hope so, Scully thought.
However, a few things still didn't quite click in her mind.
Sure the Civil War lives--or the people--had existed, but
things just didn't add up when it came to the World War II
"Mulder." A comfortable silence had settled between them and
the mention of his name broke Mulder from his stare at
whatever had caught his attention beyond the filing cabinet.
"I hate to get rational on you--"
"Since when?" All in jest, he smiled at her.
With a half-smile playing at her lips, she ignored his
interruption and continued "--but this World War II flashback
doesn't seem to settle well with me."
"Go on . . ." He drawled, intrigued.
"Well, think about it. Sydney sounded like he was old, I mean
old old. Late fifties, maybe. If Melissa had died as a Jewish
man in 1939, Sydney couldn't be any older than fourteen,
Mulder. Not to mention the whole Truman miscalculation. Truman
was president, what, late forties early fifties?"
A thoughtful expression crossed Mulder's face as he absorbed
Scully's keen observations.
"Now that you mention it . . . Cancerman wouldn't have been
old enough to be a Nazi, he would have been just a kid. Maybe
Scully nodded and moved from her position in the chair to
stand in front of Mulder.
"I don't see why I would remember something that never
happened. Maybe it was a twisted form of wishful thinking.
Maybe, in my mind, I thought a fabrication would help me to
Placing her hand on his shoulder, Scully spoke as much truth
as she would allow herself at this time.
"Well, Mulder, if it means anything," his eyes looked up into
hers, "I believe--in some way that only you can understand--
that Sullivan, Sarah and the, uh, sergeant were really pieces
of our past. I want to believe it anyway."
"You mean that?" Mulder was amazed at even that confession and
a grin had formed on his lips.
Looking to the ceiling, her words replaying in her head,
"Yeah, I do."
With a sigh, Mulder popped up from his chair, startling
"Let's get some lunch." Mulder wrapped his arm around Scully's
shoulder and ushered her towards the door. She just nodded and
tried to keep in step with Mulder's larger strides.
Maybe he'd finally let it all go. Maybe his souls were finally
One Year Later
Mulder was off on a wild goose chase once more. He'd invited
Scully, encouraged her to go even, but the trip to Roswell for
a UFO convention just didn't seem too exciting. Mulder
insisted that a man would be there with some information on
something or other, but Scully's skepticism was in overdrive.
So she stayed behind. He would be gone for the weekend and she
had the office all to herself. God this place was boring.
She'd even attempted to try a favorite past time of Mulder's.
That's right, the pencils had been sharpened, the chair was
leaned back and she was aimed and ready. Apparently there was
actually some amount of skill involved and Scully couldn't
seem to get the pencils to stick. Ten pencils later and a few
pokes on the skin, Scully retired from the game and opted to
She was afraid to mess with anything on the desk, so she began
sorting the filing cabinet. Maybe she would find something
Coming across older cases, Scully couldn't help but reminisce.
Of course she skipped the unpleasant, haunting cases, but even
those that were somewhat disturbing held some interesting
She grabbed a stack from about a year earlier and set them on
the desk. Scully saw two photographs fall gracefully to the
floor, one of which was torn in half. She kneeled down and
picked them up, laying them on the desk beside her stack of
Looking at the familiar faces from a year-old case, she
fumbled through the folders until she came across the case
file that had caused so much inner turmoil to her partner.
Inside was the copy of their report along with a list of those
who had sacrificed their lives for whatever they had believed
in. A plastic bag stapled to the corner held two cassette
tapes. One labeled Fox Mulder, the other Melissa Riedel-
Scully hadn't really thought of this case since only a few
days after the mass suicide. To her knowledge, neither had
To refresh her memory, she retrieved the tapes from their bag
and reached for Mulder's small tape player. Scully couldn't
remember all the details, but the important parts were still
stuck in her memory. More so the conversation she and Mulder
had shared only a day after the case.
Scully played through Melissa's tape first. The sadness in
Melissa's--or Sarah's--voice was heart-wrenching enough to
bring a tear to Scully's eyes. A twinge of jealousy settled in
her stomach, however. To hear another woman, no matter her
mental state, speak with such longing to her partner . . . it
was . . . uncomfortable, to say the least.
Wiping away the moisture that had settled at the corner of her
eye, Scully switched tapes. She couldn't help but shake her
head at the WWII story, for the facts were not straight and
both she and Mulder knew it. However, when it came to the
Civil War tale, a sadness overcame her.
"Oh, Mulder," she whispered aloud. Flashbacks of his forlorn
expressions and tired soul made their way back into her mind
and she shut off the tape as soon as he was finished.
This time two tears had escaped.
Her mind wandered to the sergeant Mulder had spoken of and she
wondered why this particular man had stuck out in this memory,
or whatever it was, despite his claim that it was her.
Scully returned the tapes to the plastic bag and closed the
file. In the pit of her stomach she felt as though knowing
more might give some amount of closure. Until today she'd
never realized she needed any.
In the past year, Scully had developed more feelings--whether
they be of love or not--for Mulder, that she was still trying
to come to terms with. Her cancer had helped those feelings
begin to surface.
Dana Scully did not fall in love easily, not to say she was
officially in love with Fox Mulder, but the thought had
crossed her mind once or seven times. She knew she held an
utmost compassion, devotion and undying trust for Mulder that
she had never had for any man.
Maybe it was time to explore this world Mulder had spoken of
not long so ago. If anything she wanted to see if it was
possible that they had met in some other life. Sure, that's
all it was, an experiment. Perfectly scientific.
To return to Tennessee seemed to be the best way of going
about this, so Scully booked a flight for 4:30 and was
permitted to take the rest of the week off. Nothing was
keeping her here anyway.
Scully hadn't taken a trip on her own in quite some time,
therefore the trip alone and even booking the hotel room was a
somewhat lonely experience. To say she was dependent on Mulder
would be stretching it. She'd grown accustomed to him. He was
her closest--and sometimes only--friend. Her best friend.
Kicking off her shoes, she settled onto the stiff bed and
switched on the television. It didn't really matter what was
on, she was going to shower anyway.
Scully had easily tracked down the therapist who had
hypnotized Mulder and Melissa and set an early appointment for
Friday. Dr. Susan Warren had been surprised at the phone call,
remembering the case she had assisted in vividly. It had been
the most interesting and surreal experience to date and to be
given a chance to embark further into it was more than
After her shower, Scully resigned to her bed to consider her
options for dinner. There really weren't any options. Picking
up the phone from under the night stand, Scully began flipping
through the pages to find the number for a pizza parlor that
Once she placed her order, she leaned her back against the
head board, the TV turned down low, an old western flick was
playing. Given the almost silent room, Scully was left with
her thoughts. All her thoughts centered on the nagging fact
that she was crazy for coming out here. Dana Scully didn't do
things like this, especially for reasons such as these.
A past life as a Confederate Sergeant? Dying in a field next
to a man, who would be Mulder? However, there was that
semblance of hope deep within that couldn't help but want this
reincarnation to be true. If anything it was the thought of
her and Mulder being friends in a past life that kept bringing
a smile to her face.
Scully grabbed her hairbrush from her toiletry bag and began
to run the bristles through her hair. Taking on the role of
Mulder, she began to surf through the stations until her pizza
Dr. Susan Warren's Office
Dressed in black trousers and a mauve sweater, Scully pushed
her way through the double doors and casually approached the
receptionist's desk. According to the name plate, her name was
"How can I help you?" Julie asked with a polite smile.
"Hi, Dana Scully for Dr. Warren, please."
"All right, if you'll have a seat, she'll be with you
Scully returned the polite smile in a 'thank you' and took a
seat. To say she was nervous would be putting it lightly. Not
only was she willingly going under hypnosis, something she
hated, but this was too out of character for her for comfort.
"Miss Scully, the Doctor will see you now."
There was no turning back now.
Walking in, Scully took notice of the serene photographs
framed throughout the room and immediately realized their
purpose was to calm her. Dr. Warren was seated at her desk,
writing on a piece of paper, her glasses resting on the bridge
of her nose.
Scully slowly approached the desk and then cleared her throat
in hopes of making her presence better known. Dr. Warren
looked up from her paperwork and stood, her hand outstretched.
"Hello Agent Scully, it's a pleasure to see you again."
"Dana, please, I'm off duty." Scully shook the woman's hand
with a closed smile and watched as Dr. Warren stepped around
to stand in front of a chair that was placed beside the sofa.
"All right, Dana," the doctor smiled, "you can call me Susan.
Now, first off, have you ever been under hypnotic therapy
"Yes." Scully's mind flashed back to the case involving
Cassandra and she couldn't help but shiver at the memory that
particular session had planted back into her mind. She also
remembered a time when her sister had urged her to undergo
hypnosis. She shuddered slightly at both memories then moved
forward to the couch.
Taking small notice of how uncomfortable Scully had just
become, Susan continued on with the session.
"Good, then you will be somewhat familiar with all this. If
you'll just sit down and relax, with your back against the
Scully did as she was told while Susan settled into her chair,
placing her tape recorder on the side table. Relaxing was
going to be hard but she closed her eyes and forced her
muscles to become less tense.
"Ok, now Dana, I want you to breathe deep, steady your
breathing. I will count backwards from 100 and then the
regression will begin." While Scully steadied her breathing,
Susan reached out and grabbed her arm, setting her elbow
against the armrest, elevating her arm and forming her hand
into a loose fist.
While counting back, Susan pulled out her notes and looked at
them briefly for reference. When she reached the number one,
Scully was comfortable and her breathing even.
"Dana, I want you to think back to 1863, the time of our Civil
War and I want you to tell me what you see, how you feel."
It was several minutes before Scully finally responded to the
"I-I am a soldier. I have been with this regiment for several
months now and given the rank as a sergeant. My name is Liam
Wakefield. Wait--" Her breathing labored briefly, her forehead
wrinkled in thought.
"No, my name is Caroline Williamson, but I have taken on an
alias, a male identity. I have joined my men in battle, but
for more reasons than a cause. My father was killed in battle
and I am fighting for him. He is Ahab. My father is always my
father." Her lips curled up in a smile, but a tear escaped her
"I am also here for my brother, Henry, who died as well. He is
Missy. I write to them in my journal for comfort." Biting her
lower lip, Scully relaxed once more, her breathing less
labored, but she didn't continue with anything more. Dr.
Warren decided to ask a question concerning Scully's reasons
for her visit.
"Have you encountered a Sullivan Biddle in or close to your
A wistful smile graced Scully's lips. "Mulder. Sullivan. Yes,
he is under my command. A new recruit with deep brown eyes and
a courageous smile. Such beauty for a man. He and I are close.
We have become great friends and we confide in one another. He
doesn't know though." She stopped there, her smile gone, a
tear resting in the corner of her eye.
"Doesn't know what? That you are a woman?" Susan pressed on.
"That too. Although, I know I could trust him with such a
secret, but . . . no. He doesn't know--," Scully brushed at
the tear, a gentle sob escaping from her lips. "He doesn't
know that I care for him beyond our friendship. That I love
him. I love him as a woman would love a man."
Slightly taken aback by the unexpected twist in the story,
Susan started to ask more questions, but Scully broke in with
"He loves another. Sarah Kavanaugh, a nurse to our men. She is
beautiful, a worthy lover of Sullivan, but--," Scully's sobs
had broken loose now, her head bowed in sorrow. "They will
never know, just like I will never know. I fall from my
wounds, quickly and he runs to my aid, only to be shot down as
well. He falls beside me, his eyes closing in time to watch me
slip away. I rise above the dead silence of the battlefield,
my eyes wondering to a mourning nurse kneeling before the man
we love. Let me rest in peace, please, I can't . . ." Scully
placed her head back onto the couch, her breathing even once
more. Her sobs had subsided and she'd relaxed.
Susan turned the tape off and placed Scully's elevated arm on
the couch, her words of awakening quiet.
Scully opened her eyes when the Doctor permitted it, her eyes
opening only to release the unshed tears that had been blocked
by her eye lids.
"What was that?" Dana wiped at her face and Susan handed her a
"A memory, Dana." Susan stated matter-of-factly.
"I-no . . . how?"
"Is that what you came here for, Dana?"
Squeezing the bridge of her nose, Scully sighed and stood up
slowly. How was she supposed to process this? There had to be
Gathering her thoughts, and her emotions, Scully swept her
hair behind her ear and took a deep breath. "Yes, I guess."
"I'm here for you Dana, this isn't something easily processed
or something you just push aside. If you need to talk about
it, whether it is now or later, I'm here for you." Susan
retrieved the tape and placed it in a case already labeled
with Dana's name.
"No, thank you, I'm fine." Don't let it get to you Dana, she
thought to herself, there will be time for that in the privacy
of your motel room.
"All right, here is a recording of our session, should you
need it. Julie will take care of the rest at the front." A
sympathetic smile crossed the doctor's face as she handed the
tape to Scully.
To not get emotionally involved with this particular session
was hard. Sure, she had handled similar cases of regression
into another life, but never with having known three of the
people whose lives had been connected simultaneously.
Dana shook Susan's hand and made her way quickly out the door.
After stopping by Julie's desk to take care of the bill,
Scully all but ran to her car.
She had to know more and somehow she felt the Hamilton County
Hall of Records would assist in helping her find out the rest.
Hamilton County Hall of Records
Ah yes, the musty smell was all too familiar now. This place
was dark and needed dusting. It reminded her of the basement
Scully would never get over what the flash of her badge could
authorize. With just a hello and a short introduction, she was
permitted to look where she pleased.
Now the real challenge was to figure out exactly what she was
looking for. A picture? A journal? Letters? She finally
thought of what she was looking for.
She started where she had started the last time she was there.
She pulled down the stack of county registers and began
looking for the name "Wakefield, Liam." After a quick skim
through the names, she finally fell upon that particular name
written in longhand. Well, so far the person existed. What had
she expected? Sarah and Sullivan had existed.
Heading to the photographs, she prepared for the search. After
flipping through the entire drawer for fifteen minutes, she
let out a frustrated sigh. No picture. Knowing that journals
were not just thrown in a drawer for everyone to rummage
through and read, she asked the man she had encountered when
"Yes, Agent Scully, what is it I can help you with?"
According to his name tag his name was Daryl and looked to be
in his late forties. He had a charming southern drawl.
"Yes, I was wondering if you happened to keep any journals of
Civil War soldiers."
"Well ma'am, we have a few that we keep locked up, the ones
that couldn't be returned to families. Considerin' it was the
war and all sometimes no one bothered with that sorta thing.
Is there any particular name you're wantin' me to look for,
"Yes, could you look for a journal with the name Liam
Wakefield or Caroline Williamson?"
He gave a nod with his response, accompanied with a full-
fledged smile. "Yep, if you'll just wait here I'll see what I
"Thank you." She returned the smile as big as her emotions
Scully couldn't remember every detail that she had recited to
Susan. She still had some of the visions in her mind though.
They were blurry and far too dreamlike to recall entirely, but
they were there like a memory. The urge to go to her car and
listen to the tape was pulling at her, but she knew she had to
focus on the task at hand.
Daryl returned to find Scully pacing. The wait had been no
more than five minutes, but in her mind it had been hours.
"Sorry if it took too long, ma'am. I was able to find this
journal." He held out a worn leather bound journal, tied
together with a piece of string. Some loose papers, or
possibly photographs, stuck out from each end. Scully muttered
a quiet thank you as she took it from him.
"Seems that this Caroline and Liam were the same person . . .
or something. Anyhow, both names you mentioned are in there.
Some old pictures are in between the pages and I think a
Scully graced her fingers over the rough leather as if
touching a memory. When the noise of someone talking came to a
silence, she looked up and shook her head to break away from
"Yes, thank you. Is it all right if I take this with me?"
"Well, we usually can't give things like this out to just
anyone, but seeing that you are a federal agent, I guess it'd
be all right if I let you take it with you." He unleashed
another charming smile.
"Thank you, you've been a great help. This is all I'll be
needing." She smiled gratefully and turned to leave.
"All right ma'am, you take care."
December 3 1862
I'm a soldier now. Your fall in battle encouraged me to take
this step in life. You did not fall in vain. I will fight for
you as strongly as I will fight for my beliefs. I have been
here 17 days, but have been unable to make an entry in this
journal until today. My colleagues are amiable, yet baffled by
my seemingly small stature and build, not to mention my higher
tone when it comes to carrying a conversation. No questions
have arisen yet, however. I'm a strong soldier, so it makes up
for everything I lack. I was amazed at how easy it was for me
to join my regiment. They asked me my age, which I lied about,
my health and then made sure I had a working trigger finger.
Can't say that I believe it was this easy for you and Henry to
get in, but I guess I'm going to have to. I get a payment each
month for my services and am promised good food and warm
clothes to wear. Had I known such good things could come from
being in the battlefield, I would have joined sooner! I plan
to send somemoney to mother and the family each time I get my
salary. They are well off, but I will rest easier knowing I
could help them in my absence. Mother knows not of my
expedition and I'm not sure she should. After losing you and
Henry, I'm not sure the loss of a daughter would ease her
broken heart. She thinks I left to find a life of my own and I
guess I have in a way. Papa, I pray that you forgive me for
doing this. Should I fall as you did, I know that I will see
you in Heaven. God's will be done. Not much else to say for
now, but I will confide in you as much as the war will allow
With love and affection Caroline Williamson - Liam Wakefield
That wasn't so bad, Scully thought. Sad but bearable.
After taking a bath to relax her muscles, Scully had settled
on the bed and gathered the courage to begin to read. She'd
flipped through the journal and found that in addition to the
entries there were several sketches as well. Some of the
sketches were of the battlefield. Some of them were actually
quite artistic. Drawings consisting of mostly landscape.
On the front page of the journal the name Liam Wakefield was
written across the page. Underneath 'Virginia 10th Regiment'
was printed and then below that 'Tennessee 13th Regiment' was
scripted in slightly larger letters.
Amongst the loose items were two pictures and a letter. The
pictures were of Caroline and Liam.
Caroline had been beautiful, Scully thought to herself.
In this particular photograph, Caroline was wearing a
feathered hat and standing by a horse. Most of her hair was in
ringlet curls and pinned up under the hat. Her dress was
simple and very similar to the one Sarah had been wearing.
Caroline had obviously grown up aristocratic, for the most
part anyway. Most of her writing proved that she'd had a
healthy amount of education.
Scully smirked at her next observation. Caroline was so short.
If this was all true, Scully was sure that she was to be stuck
at just above five feet for the rest of her . . . lives.
Now for Liam. Scully found it amazing how short hair and some
trousers could make such a feminine woman look so masculine.
Even she believed Liam was actually a man. 'He' was standing
straight up, as any soldier should, in his Confederate
She lifted the journal once again and decided to read one more
entry before heading down to the corner diner for a quick
December 7 1862
It is cold today. The snow decided to grace the ground and it
is lovely. We have yet to encounter the Federals, but
according to some of the spies, they could reach our regiment
in a matter of days. I'm anxious about my first battle. They
like my mind here and find me to be a fine soldier. Word is
getting round that we may get more soldiers drafted in soon.
I'm tired from this long day, so I shall sleep now.
Setting the journal to the side, Scully slipped on some jeans
and a black, long sleeved shirt and headed towards the door.
Maybe this would be easier than she thought.
Scully read a few more entries before going to bed previous
night. Most were just about the war and how Caroline was
adapting to it. She'd already faced her first battle by the
fifth entry. A sergeant was lost and they'd moved Caroline
into his rank.
Things were different nowadays when it came to military life,
Scully had discovered. Usually it takes years to reach that
ranking, but prove yourself worthy of higher praise in the
middle of the 1800s and you got it with a handshake.
Today she would dedicate her time to finishing the journal.
She had to leave by noon on Sunday, and she planned on having
this all resolved before her return home.
Scully showered and ate lunch then made herself comfortable on
It has been quite some time since I have confided in you. More
men were drafted into my regiment a few days back and they
look strong and ready. I couldn't help but recognize that a
few of them are like me. Women. I guess being a woman it is
easy for me to notice these things. Of the men I have
befriended, my closest is of the new recruits. Sullivan Biddle
is his name, he is a private. He has no family to leave behind
and my heart cannot truly fathom what sorrow that must bring
to a human soul. He is kind and his smile is catching.
Scully shook her head with a smile, cherishing the fact that
Mulder had always had his boyish charm, and then continued to
If I were going by my real age he would be seven years older
than I. Other than you, he is the only one in whom I confide.
The dinner bell is ringing, so goodbye for now.
February 12 1863
I miss you more with each passing day and the family back
home. Henry is not far from my mind, I do miss him so.
Sullivan fills this void. I feel myself growing closer to him
than I should. However, his heart and mind keep drifting to
one of our nurses, Sarah Kavanaugh. He speaks of her to me
often. He has yet to approach her. I keep my mind on the war
and try not to let my heart get in the way of things. My words
are few this evening and according to General McCracken, our
regiment may move to Tennessee and be put under the command of
General Bragg. It may be quite some time before I am able to
write again. Should I not make it, I know that it is God's
March 16 1863
Today is my birthday. As Caroline I would be 24, but as Liam I
have reached the age of 27. Each day I grow more fond of
Sullivan and each moment I recognize how unrequited it is. His
honey eyes light up at the presence of Nurse Kavanaugh. We
have settled in Tennessee and will probably be here the next
several months. Tennessee has been better to us, as far as
weather and space, than Virginia. I am under the command of
General Bragg now and a part of the 13th Regiment. I do miss
home and the farm. I pray I make it back safely, but should I
fall with my regiment, I know still that it is God's will.
I have not seen the sun in two weeks. The smoke from the
cannons and guns cloud the sky. We are in battle once more and
I have lost many of my men, three of which were close friends
of mine. Privates Charles Jacobs, Benjamin Tillman and Tom
Morrison. It is so hard to watch these men fight so hard, only
to see them die. Nurse Kavanaugh works well with the wounded
and seems to have taken notice of Sullivan. Despite my
feelings, I pray that he finds someone. The firing has begun
again. I love you.
June 1 1863
My Dear Father
A month ago my regiment and I fought federals. The blues seem
to be spreading their men out, sending small amounts of their
men to battle ours. A fine strategy. We have moved further up
north in Tennessee and settled in Apison. I was wounded in the
shoulder during our last battle, so I cannot write for long. A
nurse, Christina Miller, knows now of my secret identity, but
she also knows my reasons and has therefore promised to say
nothing. Sullivan visits me often to tell me amazing tales and
unusual stories. I must rest now.
The measles have spread throughout the regiment and I have
infected. I am healing, yet weak. Sullivan is fairing well,
but I have not been able to see him in days. I miss him.
July 27 1863
Father and Henry
I have never harbored feelings like this for a man. I never
thought I would. To know that they may never be known to him
hurts. I have a duty to attend to. A duty to my men, our cause
and to you. My brother, to know that you will never guide me
on this earth again as you once did makes it hard for me to
face both these battles on my own. I love you and should I not
make it through this war, I pray your forgiveness and know
that I will see you in Heaven.
August 10 1863
I am well, but exhausted from tears. These colleagues of mine
who have fallen, I mourn them. I mourn you and Henry as well.
And I cannot help but weep from these unthinkable matters of
the heart concerning Sullivan. I do wish that he could someday
love me as he does Sarah. The sunset provides me much comfort
with it's colors. I miss mother and family and hope to see
them soon, if not on this earth then in Heaven with you.
September 9 1863
It has been a month since I have written to you. Today
Sullivan told me I was his dearest friend and one of the most
valuable people to have entered his life. His birthday is in
three days. He will be 31. Sullivan's happiness, whether it be
with the kind hearted nurse or not, is all that matters to me
at this point in the war. General Bragg has reported that we
may move again in a couple months. I have been assigned to
keep watch in the field; therefore it may be some time before
I confide in you again. Watch over me.
October 12 1863
Father and Henry
More men arrived today. I hear the dome of the Capitol in our
nation's capital is nearing completion. I hope to see it
someday. Sullivan and I continue to stay close and he often
tells his stories and talks of Sarah. If anyone should survive
this war, I pray it be Sullivan and Nurse Kavanaugh. The sun
is rising and I must wake my men.
October 29 1863
The leaves are rapidly changing color now. It is a beautiful
sight. For months now I have been sending money for my
services to Mother, saying that I have found work in a small
town. I wrote a letter to tell her my true story, but I have
yet to gather the courage to send it to her. She has not yet
said any words of thanks or worry, but I trust she has
received my money. I love you.
By this entry Scully had shed many tears, a tissue clenched in
her hand while the other turned the pages. Scully reached for
the letter she'd discovered in the pages and ran her fingers
over it. She paused and saved what she knew would be the last
entry in this journal until after finding out what had been
said in the letter.
The letter had been short and apologetic. The last words would
make a place in her mind for always . . .
"I knew I could do more to leave home than to stay with you.
So I left. I am sorry and I love you."
Those words summed up the feelings of this woman so devoted to
her men and her father and brother. They summed up her own
life as well.
Scully took a deep breath and prepared herself for the last
words of this heroic woman.
November 25 1863
We received word on the thirteenth of November that the
Federals would arrive this month. They should arrive in the
morning. Some of our men have retreated to Dalton, but me,
Sullivan and others were to stay behind. I am ready for
whatever God has planned for me. I fear more so for my men and
especially Sullivan. Once more I pray that you forgive me for
what I have done. I am a proud soldier and proud of my men. I
have faith in them to fight well and hard. Should I fall
tomorrow, I know I will see both you and Henry beyond the sky.
My love for Sullivan holds strong. To see home again would be
a blessing, but I am prepared for anything. Even death. I will
make you proud of me. I love you.
Scully stared at the page, her eyes not moving away from
Caroline's final words. A chill ran down her spine for reasons
she did not know. Deep down she knew it was because the words
were familiar to her. The journal was familiar. The pictures.
She looked over at the alarm clock and noted that it was only
four o'clock in the afternoon. At that moment an idea came to
her and she knew she had to follow through.
Grabbing her keys, Scully pulled on a sweater and went out the
door, the journal in her hand.
Chattanooga National Cemetery
Scully approached the desk respectfully and waited patiently
for the man behind it too look up.
Finally, Scully quietly spoke up.
"Excuse me." The man looked up and unveiled a soft smile.
"Hi, my name is Dana. I am looking for the grave of Liam
Wakefield, he was part of the 13th Regiment in Tennessee
during the Civil War."
"You a relative or something?"
Not knowing how to answer, Scully smiled and replied, "Sort
The man nodded and stood up from his chair. He was probably
only two or three inches taller than her and he had a slight
hunch. To her, he looked to be in his late fifties.
"My name is Frank, just follow me." He reached beside the desk
and pulled out a cane. Frank hobbled to the door and Scully
soon joined him at his side.
They walked quietly for a few moments until Frank came to a
halt. He pointed ahead and Scully followed his arm until her
eyes landed on an older man of about seventy-five walking
around the headstones.
"That's Al, he'll know where to take you. He's the
groundskeeper, been here longer than I have and knows every
headstone." Frank gave Scully a pat on the arm and smiled,
then slowly turned back to the small building.
Scully took a deep breath and walked to Al. He was cleaning
rubbish and garbage off the graves and placing them in a large
satchel that was draped over his shoulder. She assumed he'd
heard her footsteps in the short grass, because he looked up
at her with weary eyes and smiled gently.
"Good day ma'am." His voice was rough and shaky, but soothing
in its own way. She couldn't help but notice a slight Irish
lilt to it.
"Good day. I'm looking for a particular headstone from the
"What's the name?" Al straightened up and walked closer to
Scully. He was probably four or five inches taller than her
and lanky. His eyebrows were bushy and white and his head
covered with a plain white baseball cap.
"Liam Wakefield. I believe he was a part of the 13th
Al nodded and a thoughtful expression crossed his face. When
he finally found the thought he was looking for, he took the
satchel off and placed it by the tree. He offered his arm and
Scully hooked her arm through it, a small smile crossing her
face at the simple gesture.
"What's your name, lass?"
"Lovely name. Name of a goddess, you know."
"A goddess?" She looked up at him, her eyebrow arched.
"Yes, ma'am. An Irish goddess. The Mother Nature of Irish
folklore, I might add. I'm an Irishman myself, in case my
accent didn't give it away. My family came here in 1845. My
grandfather fought in the 13th Regiment, now that I think of
it. Good man, so I hear, but he was lost early on in the war.
Tom Morrison was his name."
Scully's eyes widened at the name, remembering that Caroline
had known the man well and was greatly saddened by his death
Al gave her hand a pat. He smiled down at her and came to a
halt, in front of a very old headstone. Simple and
professional. Now that she noticed, very few of the headstones
had flowers or gifts of any kind on them.
"You a part of this Liam lad's family?" Al released her arm
and stepped back.
Still looking at the name engraved, Scully smiled and quietly
responded, "You could say that."
"I'll leave you alone, Dana. God bless you."
Scully turned to watch him walk away and then faced the
headstone once again. What was she supposed to do now? She
cleared her throat and, to her surprise, began talking aloud.
"Hi, my name is Dana. Dana Scully." She laughed at herself
She wasn't sure why she felt so awkward. She'd visited her
sister's grave many times and talked aloud. Melissa had always
been able to comfort her when she was alive and visiting her
grave had always given Scully just as much comfort during a
crisis. Sometimes she would even go to the coast and whisper
into the moist air, as if being by the sea would bring her
closer to her father.
Taking a deep breath, Scully plunged forward into a one-sided
"I, um, I'm not sure what I should be thinking now. On one
hand I could be talking to a noble Civil War Sergeant that I
happen to know a lot about or I could be losing my mind and
literally be talking to myself." She chuckled and cleared her
Scully brought the journal into eye view and looked at it.
She'd almost forgotten she'd been carrying it, despite the
death grip she'd had on it. A tear trickled down her cheek as
she pondered what she needed to say next.
She kneeled down by the headstone and placed both hands in her
lap, the journal resting in her palms. On the way up to the
small white building, Scully had picked a long stemmed daisy
from the walkway and placed it in between the pages of the
journal. She pulled it out now and placed it on the grave.
Another tear trailed down her face and Scully sniffled in
effort to stop any more that might escape.
"You really loved him." Wiping at her cheeks, Scully
continued, not sure if what she was about to say would make
"His soul didn't get lost. He came back." Scully knew for
certain she sounded nuts, but she figured that being in a
graveyard surrounded by thousands of dead people was the best
place to say any of this out loud. And she needed to say it
"He's my partner now, my best friend. According to what I read
he hasn't changed much. His name is Fox Mulder, but he hates
his first name so most everyone just calls him Mulder. He's
still charming, funny, has unusual stories, close to no family
and he is . . . ok, very attractive." Scully chuckled but
without skipping a beat, became serious again. "Sarah isn't
here. She was but she died a little over a year ago. Her name
was Melissa. But just because she's gone doesn't mean . . . I
have a job to do! A friendship to keep! I can't let this
Scully stood and began pacing in front of the grave, her
eyebrows furrowed and tears of frustration falling freely now.
"For a while I have felt feelings, strong feelings, toward
him. I've loved him for a couple of years now, but it wasn't
until recently that I came to realize--," stopping dead in her
tracks, Scully closed her eyes and whispered her confession to
the air, "--that I am _in_ love with him."
She gasped at her own words and turned to the headstone as if
waiting for a response. When none came, she knelt down on both
knees again and closed her eyes.
"This wasn't supposed to happen. Was it?"
Once again she looked to the headstone for an answer. As if on
cue, a small gust of wind rustled the trees and swept over her
Scully settled her body on top of the back of her legs and
looked to the sky. The answer hit her and she smiled at the
Maybe it was supposed to happen.
Granted Mulder possessed a thousand imperfections--mainly his
obsessive ways and so-so temper--he was perfectly imperfect
and perfect for her. All through her life Dana had had this
frame of mind that she would marry a simple man who would help
her build a simple life. Of course, in all those years she had
yet to find any man reaching that short description. The exact
opposite really. Maybe that's why she had never seen Mulder
playing that sort of role in her life. A partner, yes. Her
best friend, of course. But a lover?
Scully licked her lips and focused her eyes on the journal
that she'd left on the ground. She picked it up and ran her
hands over the rough leather, a smile once more gracing her
Despite Mulder's lack of qualifications that she thought she'd
needed in a lover, he _was_ all she needed in a lover. In
their five and half years of partnership, he had watched over
her, protected her, cared for her and fought for her, even if
he thought otherwise. He'd loved her too. And much to her
surprise, she couldn't help but come to the conclusion that he
was in love with her as much as she was with him, if not more.
Scully swept her hand over her face, then through her hair as
a mix of emotions reduced to one.
Centering the daisy onto the grave, she stood up and clutched
the journal to her chest. With a sigh, she looked down at the
grass then to the engraved name. Her last words were barely
above a whisper.
With that, she turned and made her way to the cemetery gate,
making sure to wave and offer a friendly nod and smile to Al
on her way out.
After grabbing some dinner, Scully had taken a walk in a park
that wasn't far from her hotel. Sitting on a bench, she'd read
through the journal once more and then looked out over the
lake to watch the sunset.
Upon returning to her hotel room, Scully threw what she would
not need between that night and the next day into her travel
bag and then sat comfortably on her bed.
Unable to resist the need, she played the tape from her
session once more before finally deciding to sleep. The
sadness from the life of Caroline didn't go unnoticed and
Scully shed a tear or two for her, but she knew that now she
could make it right.
A year ago she and Mulder had agreed that everything had
already been righted, but now she knew that there was one last
thing to be taken care of.
She was scared out of her mind.
The flight home, although short, was torture. Scully hated
flying anyway, but to know that she had to actually confess
everything she'd discovered about her feelings and about
Caroline to Mulder was killing her nerves.
After arriving home that afternoon, Scully had fit in a power
nap, a snack and a shower and then called Mulder. He said he
would be home late Saturday, so luckily -for lack of a better
word -she'd reached him at home.
She'd avoided asking about his rendezvous over the phone in
hopes of letting that conversation play as a prelude to her
At the moment she was cozy in her jeans and periwinkle
cardigan, her feet only in socks and her hair pinned up for
the most part. Despite how comfortable she was in her weekend
clothes, she was pacing. Mulder should arrive any minute and
she had yet to devise a plan on how to present all this to
Present? This wasn't a meeting to discuss a case. This was her
feelings she was talking about. In a way it was also her
pride. Given that she was still overall a skeptic, she was
about to admit to Mulder that she believed their souls were
reincarnations of some soldiers in the Civil War. Also,
believing in that completely contradicted her religion, but
she promised herself she would worry about that aspect later.
A knock at the door interrupted her silent soliloquy and she
came to an abrupt stop in front of her couch. Taking a deep
breath, she regained her composure and went to the door.
Not bothering with the peephole she opened it to a smiling
Mulder and stepped to the side as a gesture of welcome.
Now that she had come to terms with her feelings for him, she
took in his appearance and felt the butterflies in her stomach
start to flutter. In his dark blue jeans, grey shirt and
leather jacket, he made her mouth go dry.
"You okay Scully?" He had a touch of amusement hidden in the
question of concern.
Scully then realized she was still standing at the open door,
her hand still on the doorknob and she was smiling at his
chest. Clearing her throat, she shut the door.
"Yes, sorry, it's been a long day. Do you want anything to
"No, I'm good. You sure you're all right? You sounded a little
flustered on the phone." He took a seat on the couch and his
arm stretched out along the back of it.
"Yeah. How was your trip?" Scully sat next to him, her legs
curled out to the side of her.
Mulder threw his head back and then looked back at her.
"Ugh, terrible. I think the man dressed as E.T. could have
given me more information. My 'informant' took me to the side
and gave me an envelope, which later consisted of clippings
from those hoax magazines. According to them, a baby alien has
been discovered and the government has taken it hostage.
Which, don't get me wrong, I wouldn't put it past them but it
was obviously fake. I read that article last week. Let me just
add that I could have saved those sick days for something much
more educational. I ended up leaving early and coming back
late Friday. Which brings up a valid question, where have you
That was a short prelude. She'd secretly been wanting a drawn
out story and for Mulder to ramble on about what he had found
out, but much to her chagrin, it was already her turn for
"Tennessee." She said it quick and almost painlessly.
"Tennessee? Why?" He ran a hand through his hair and let it
rest there to support his tilted head.
"Well, Mulder, this brings us to the reason why I asked you
here." Scully pursed her lips nervously and then reached over
to the coffee table to retrieve the journal and tape player,
which held the tape from her session with Dr. Warren.
Mulder watched her every move and couldn't help but stare.
She had her hair pinned up, something he rarely got to see and
he loved it that way. This way he could see her face, her
exquisite profile. Another thing he gladly took in was her
clothes. Each time he saw her out of her professional attire
and in her casual clothes, his stomach fell and he yearned to
know the casual, laid back Scully that he knew came with the
Over the years they had grown close and he knew almost
everything about her, but in learning about her he had also
come to realize that this amazing woman had many layers that
she had yet to unfold for him. He was determined to get to
know these other sides. He also knew that knowing her more
would cause him to fall in love with her more.
In the time it took for her to take the things from the table
and settle back comfortably into couch again, he had finished
his thoughts and sat waiting for whatever it was she was going
to tell him about. He was already intrigued by the idea that
she had taken a little trip in his absence.
Scully licked her lips, a nervous habit he had come to know
well, and handed Mulder the tape player.
"Don't play it yet. Mulder, I asked you here tonight . . .
While you were away I stumbled once more onto the Ephesian
case and something told me to look into it again. Not as a
case, but to look into it for personal reasons." She paused
and looked up to gauge his response so far. He had a
thoughtful look on his face, as if trying to figure out how
this case had been personal to her. She continued.
"During that case both you and Melissa had journeyed back into
some place in your memories and at the time I didn't think
much about it. But when I listened to your tapes again, I
realized that I wanted to know who this sergeant that Sullivan
had befriended in the war was and how he was connected to me."
Now Mulder was in, what Scully could only identify as shock.
She was prepared for this. In fact, she understood completely.
This didn't sound like her at all.
"I know this is weird coming from me, Mulder-"
"No, weird I can handle, this is down right . . . spooky." He
laughed at his lame comment, but urged her with his eyes to
"I took the rest of the week off and hopped on a plane to
Apison, Tennessee where I went to a session with Dr. Susan
Mulder thought for a moment then asked, "Is she the shrink who
hypnotized Melissa and me?"
At that confirmation, Mulder looked down at the tape player
and then back up at Scully.
"Are you telling me that THE Dana Scully underwent hypnotic
regression willingly?" He had a teasing smile, but his
expression fell serious when Scully barely cracked a smile.
The one she did crack had been forced and he knew it.
"I need you to listen to it, Mulder." She let out a shaky sigh
and relaxed as well as her tense muscles would allow into the
"Okay." Mulder's single word was laced with concern and he
watched as her eyes closed then pressed play. He set the
player on the coffee table and hunched over, his arms resting
on his thighs and his hands cupped over his mouth in
concentration. It was his version of "The Thinker."
When it reached the point of her recital where she was sobbing
during her confession of love for Sullivan, Mulder turned his
head sharply towards Scully, her eyes open now and her cheeks
shining from tears. When the tape finished, there was an
After several moments, Scully broke the silence with a sniffle
and finally wiped at her cheeks.
Mulder still said nothing, but he turned his face away from
the player and looked at Scully, his eyes dark. Not the kind
of dark that indicated anger, but sadness. They weren't even
recognizably hazel anymore. Slowly Mulder reached out his hand
to Scully and she scooted closer to him so that she could
place her hand in his. His thumb brushed over her soft skin
and the gesture was soothing. Finally, Mulder said something
in a hushed whisper.
"That was . . ." He couldn't even find the right word. She
couldn't even think of one. However, they both knew it was . .
"There's more. After I went to Dr. Warren, I made a trip to
the Hamilton Hall of Records in hopes of finding something
like what I'd found during the Ephesian case. I found this."
Scully reached in front of her and lifted the journal to
Mulder. "I want you to read this, but not here. There are
pictures in there as well."
Mulder quietly took the journal and released her hand that he
had been holding. He unknowingly mimicked the same thing she'd
done upon being handed the journal, smoothing his hands over
the worn leather.
"Mulder, I need you to know something. Something for you to
think about as you read this woman's words. There is a lot of
truth to me and Caroline. How we think, how we feel. So much
that, despite my struggle, I have come to believe that I was
once this woman." Scully swallowed the lump in her throat and
avoided eye contact with Mulder. Admitting that had been the
next hardest thing she had done in her life. Unfortunately,
the hardest thing had yet to come.
"What?" Mulder's eyes were wide and he didn't know if he
should be elated by this confession or worried out of his
"You heard me, Mulder, please don't make me repeat it. I just
need you to try and remember what I just told you as you read,
"Ok, yeah, whatever you say." Mulder smiled at her. Before
standing, he moved closer to her and cupped her cheek with his
free hand. Without hesitation he pressed his lips to her
forehead and Scully couldn't help but recognize how sensual
this action felt to her. She closed her eyes and let out an
involuntary sigh. Mulder felt it too.
"I'll talk to you later, Scully, ok? Goodnight."
Scully just nodded and stood to walk him to the door.
After he descended down the hallway, Scully shut the door and
rested her forehead on the pressed wood.
This was going to be a long, sleepless night.
Several hours later
As Scully had predicted, she could not sleep. She'd padded to
the kitchen and made herself some green tea, then cuddled into
the cushions of her couch with her grandmother's afghan draped
over her shoulders.
The TV glowed in silence as Scully ignored the images, staring
into the night sky outside her window instead.
A knock on her door startled her and she scurried to answer
it, dressed in her too-large-for-her flannel, plaid pajamas
that she'd stolen from her brother Charlie almost seven years
back. Without bothering with the peephole, she opened the
door, almost surprised to see Mulder standing there, but
relieved that it wasn't some stranger come to kill her. It was
sad that she sometimes had to worry about such a thing.
"Mulder, what are you doing here? It's almost two in the
"I've been outside your door this whole time. No, wait, that's
a lie. I was half way to my car before I turned around and
decided to sit outside your door and read this. Then, after
reading it, I went for a long walk to think. Can I come in?"
"Oh yes, sorry." He came in and Scully shut the door, but they
didn't move two inches from it before she asked, "Outside my
door? That's a little unnerving, Mulder. Couldn't you have
called or waited until morning to talk?" She'd almost
forgotten what it was she was destined talk to him about after
his turn in reading the journal. Almost.
"I know I didn't wake you, so I don't see why we can't talk
now." He had a crooked smile on his face. He removed his
jacket and hung it on the coat rack.
"How do you know I wasn't asleep?" She crossed her arms over
her chest and leaned to one side.
"Because, when you've been sleeping your eyes are kind of
squinty and your freckles show more."
He knew what she looked like when she had just woken up? The
idea made her stomach flutter, but at the same time she hated
knowing that her freckles were painfully visible to him in
"Plus, your TV is on and a nice cup of tea is steaming on your
coffee table," he teased before stepping into her personal
space. His teasing grin dropped from his face and his eyes
were dark again. Not in anger. Not in sadness. In passion.
Scully swallowed her recurring lump and tried to step back,
but her body wouldn't allow it. The journal must be in his
coat pocket, Scully silently observed, if only to steer her
mind away from the heat that was inches from her body.
"Caroline was in love with Sullivan. I heard it in the tapes
and the truth in your sobs as you said it, but to read it . .
. to know the details . . . You said to keep in mind that what
Caroline felt, you feel now. So knowing this, I have to ask
you something." He stepped closer, yet still not close enough
for their bodies to touch, only enough for his heat to radiate
from his skin onto hers, despite the clothing that separated
Scully couldn't form any words, knowing what this was leading
to and not fully prepared to face it now.
"If Caroline was in love with Biddle, does that mean that
you're in love with me, Scully?"
If at all possible, his eyes were darker now.
She nodded, then added in a whisper, "But I didn't need all of
this to know what I have felt for a long time. I just needed
it to help me face it and know that it was okay to--," she
wasn't sure if she could say it. Tears were pushing to escape
"Say it, Dana." It wasn't demanding, but soft and encouraging.
The use of her first name made it a personal request.
As if that's all it took, Dana finished her sentence, "--fall
in love with you."
Mulder closed the space between them at those words, and his
dark eyes had a sparkle to them now. He brought both his hands
to her face and, now that her hair was down again, smoothed
his hands through her hair. Brushing his thumbs over her
mouth, he leaned forward to where his lips were inches from
"Mulder what are you doing?" Scully asked in a hushed tone,
fighting the urge to wrap her arms around him but failing to
do any less than stand there with their faces and mouths
"Making up for lost time."
Mulder's head swooped to catch her lips with his, her eyes
fluttering shut and her body responding. She finally wrapped
her arms around his neck and pulled him close.
It was a brush of the lips at first, but then he teased her
lips open and they united. The kiss was deep, slow, passionate
and filled with longing. Scully sighed with the contact and,
if she didn't know any better, there were fireworks and bells
ringing. Mulder pulled away first, only to catch his breath.
"I've been wanting to do that for a long time," he whispered,
his lips feathered her ear with each spoken word.
"I've been waiting for you to do that for a long time."
"I love you, Scully." He kissed her neck up to the back of ear
and then pulled away to let his eyes look into hers.
Breathless, Scully beamed at Mulder with her eyebrow arched
and asked, "And when did you figure that out, Mulder?"
Without hesitation, Mulder responded, "I can't remember when I
didn't love you."
At that, Scully wrapped her arms around his neck and enveloped
his lips with hers. He lifted her off the ground to deepen the
kiss. The sensation of kissing Scully was so overwhelming that
he groaned and soon after his noise of ecstasy, a soft moan
escaped from her in reply.
They pulled away from each other simultaneously, their
"I have a feeling that was the right answer." His arms were
still around her waist, her feet dangling above the floor as
he clung to her.
"Ding ding ding, tell him what he's won." It was said in a low
alto voice, her lips hovering over his as she spoke.
"No no, I'm pretty sure I got what I came for." Mulder
lingered a closed kiss on her lips and then set her on the
Taking a look at her pajamas, Mulder said something he thought
he would never say to Scully aloud, much less, get away with
saying. "You look cute."
Scully looked down, somewhat embarrassed at the fact that she
had just kissed Mulder in her little brother's pajamas.
Looking over her carefully, Mulder kissed her jaw line and
then combed his hands through her hair again.
"Scratch that. You're beautiful."
She smiled her thank you, unable to find the words. He was
beautiful too, but she couldn't get herself to say it.
Therefore, she reached her hands to his face and traced the
contours of it. After settling her fingers on his lips, she
replaced her fingertips with her lips, the kiss chaste.
"Thank you," he whispered.
He got the message.
"Scully . . ." He circled his arms around her and his hands
rubbed circles on her back. After a few moments, she leaned
forward and settled her body into his, her arms wrapping
"I really should leave."
Squeezing him, Scully closed her eyes and quietly asked,
"We have to work tomorrow and if I don't leave now I cannot be
held responsible for my actions."
She nodded against his chest in understanding, grinning at his
"Work is going to be kinda weird tomorrow after the, um,
events of tonight. Once that office door closes, I'm not sure
if I will be able to keep my hands off you," he added
Running her arms up his biceps, Scully reached his face and
pulled his head down, kissed him, then pulled away.
"All the more reason for you to leave now so we can get an
With a brief peck on the lips, he let her go and opened the
He didn't budge from the between the door frame, so Scully
walked up to him and gave him a mind-blowing kiss goodnight,
nipping his bottom lip as she pulled away.
"Right, yes, goodnight." With what could only be described as
a goofy grin, Mulder left and shut the door behind him.
Scully almost giggled. Giggling was a habit she'd sworn off by
the age of seven due to her brothers mocking her and Bill
wrestling her last giggle out of her. A small one escaped her
lips, despite that.
She turned to see that Mulder had left his coat. Taking it
from the rack, she made her way to her bedroom, shutting her
TV off and grabbing her mug on the way.
He could have his coat back later, but for now, as she settled
into bed, she would relish in his scent as she went to sleep.
Taking the journal from his pocket and placing it on her night
stand, Scully relaxed into her mattress. Her thoughts drifted
to tomorrow and a thankful prayer escaped from her lips.
This time they had finally got it right.
Dying, dying to die just so we can meet again
Dying, dying to say what I always should have said
It's a strange emotion this but there's still hope in this
As long as there's a breath . . .
I can't live without you again
-"Dying" Five for Fighting
Notes: That, my friends, is what happens when I run with an
idea. I wasn't really sure about writing it for a while, to be
honest, but once I got started I couldn't stop. I also
realized that nothing quite like it had ever been attempted in
the world of XF fanfiction, so I went for it. The stuff about
CSM and the whole WWII thing not configuring right was not
thought up or, for that matter, keenly observed by me. I got
it from The X-Philes Nitpicker Guide. And so, now you MUST
tell me what you thought. Love!