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                                    Title: Once More with Feeling
                                    Author: KimK
                                    Rating: PG
                                    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
                                    me know. 
                                    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
                                    let go. 
                                    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
                                    sparkle away. 
                                    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
                                    all morning.
                                    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
                                    "About what?"
                                    "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.
                                    "How so?"
                                    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 time." 
                                    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,
                                    Scully nodded. 
                                    "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
                                    at peace.
                                    One Year Later
                                    Basement Office
                                    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
                                    manila folders.
                                    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.
                                    Apison, Tennessee
                                    Thursday Evening
                                    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
                                    finally arrived.
                                    Friday Morning
                                    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
                                    closed eyes. 
                                    "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
                                    further memories.
                                    "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
                                    more proof.
                                    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
                                    she'd arrived.
                                    "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
                                    can find."
                                    "Thank you." She returned the smile as big as her emotions
                                    would allow. 
                                    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
                                    the trance. 
                                    "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 
                                    Dear Father
                                    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
                                    me to.
                                    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
                                    the bed. 
                                    Date Unknown
                                    Dearest Father
                                    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. 
                                    Date Unknown
                                    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. 
                                    Date Unknown
                                    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
                                    Dear Father
                                    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.
                                    C Williamson
                                    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.
                                    C Williamson
                                    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
                                    Dearest Father
                                    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. 
                                    Caroline Williamson 
                                    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.
                                    The feelings. 
                                    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. 
                                    "Yes, ma'am."
                                    "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
                                    Civil War."
                                    "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
                                    in battle. 
                                    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
                                    throat again.
                                    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
                                    any sense.
                                    "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
                                    out loud.
                                    "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.
                                    "Thank you."
                                    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. 
                                    Saturday Evening
                                    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. 
                                    Sunday Evening
                                    Scully's Apartment
                                    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
                                    own story. 
                                    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.
                                    "Hey Scully."
                                    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
                                    story time. 
                                    "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
                                    awkward silence.
                                    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 . .
                                    . something. 
                                    "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
                                    that observation.
                                    "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
                                    her eyes.
                                    "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
                                    inches apart.
                                    "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
                                    breathing ragged.
                                    "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
                                    around him.
                                    "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
                                    early start."
                                    With a brief peck on the lips, he let her go and opened the
                                    "Goodnight, Scully."
                                    "Goodnight, Mulder."
                                    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!
                                    April 2004