'INTO THE MYSTIC'
By: Katvictory

We were born before the wind
Also younger than the sun
Ere the bonnie boat was won
as we sailed into the mystic
Hark, now hear the sailors cry
Smell the sea and feel the sky
Let your soul and spirit fly
into the mystic

And when that fog horn blows
I will be coming home
And when that fog horn blows
I want to hear it
I don't have to fear it
I want to rock your gypsy soul
Just like way back in the days of old
Then magnificently we will float
into the mystic

And when that fog horn blows
you know I will be coming home
And when that fog horn whistle blows
I got to hear it
I don't have to fear it
I want to rock your gypsy soul
Just like way back in the days of old
And together we will float
into the mystic
Come on girl...


Chapter 1 -- "A Fox on a Rock"


The night was dark. No moon could be seen through the dense fog that surrounded Special Agent Fox Mulder as he sat upon a rock, a puzzled frown on his face.

*How did I get here?*

He held his hand up and could hardly make out its pale form barely a foot in front of his face. The damp mist made him shiver, so he drew his coat closer about himself.

*There's water here. I'm sitting on a rock surrounded by water. Just like when Scully and I went after Big Blue.* His lips curled in remembrance of Scully's stupefied expression when they discovered how close to shore they had been. He jumped at hearing a splash behind him. His breath caught in his throat until he heard an easily recognizable sound. *Now, that's a duck.*

And sure enough, almost on cue, a mallard paddled past his perch quacking loudly. The chuckle that erupted, as the noisy fowl disappeared from sight, was strained and made his already tenuous grip on his composure slip even further.

*What the hell is going on?*

The mist seemed to be enveloping him, his mind as well as his body. Fox Mulder didn't know where he was. He didn't know how he had gotten there, and he didn't know how he was going to get off the small, slick rock on which he was sitting. All he knew was that he really didn't want to be there, and the sooner he found a way off, the better he was going to feel. Suddenly he heard another splash and almost lost his footing, barely avoiding a headfirst plunge into the unknown depths. Holding his breath, listening for the noise that had startled him so, Mulder placed the sound, and his hand instinctively reached inside his jacket for his weapon.

"Who's out there?" The damp fog muffled his call and he came up empty handed in his frantic search for his gun. It wasn't there in its holster. As a matter of fact, he was amazed to discover he was not even wearing his holster. The steady, rhythmic sloshing noise continued and Mulder cocked his ear. He still couldn't decide if there was someone wading by the bank or if it was a boat paddling toward him. When his right foot slipped from his stony perch and icy, cold water filled his leather loafer, soaking his sock, he made up his mind. Better to just jump in and take his chances. His unknown companion was moving ever closer. He pushed away from the rock to intercept him, and then sank like a stone into the deep lake.

Sputtering, gasping for air, Mulder cursed his own stupidity. He tried in vain to climb back on his rock, going under with each attempt. Oddly, the outcrop was now slick with algae. Before it had been unbelievably dry. His lungs filled with water and he fought the panic, forcing himself to relax, to roll onto his back and tread water.

"That's it Mulder, relax..."

"Scully."

The dense, humid cloud that hugged this dream-like place swallowed up her name. How was he hearing her voice when he knew, she was a world away.

*Now I'm hearing things. Scully's not here. *

It was odd, but that was a fact of which he was certain. Floating in the cold murky water, he listened to the night. The splashing sound was still there.

"Is somebody there?" his voice cracked, his throat raw from calling to the phantom. The violent shaking that wracked his body was not just from the cold. Fear was seeping into his muddled consciousness. He didn't know where he was, or how he'd gotten there. Was this a dream, or was this reality? Taking a deep breath he shouted out once more, a desperate plea for help. "Please, I know you're there. Answer me. Whoever you are, somebody please..." The loud thumping of his heart beat a staccato rhythm against his eardrums. Surely whatever was coming his way would be able to zero in on it.

Fox Mulder drifted, hoping it was a 'somebody,' not a 'something,' moving through the water.

"I'm rowing out to you," came a muffled reply.

He breathed a giddy sigh of relief, staring expectantly into the darkness in the direction from where the voice had come. Soon he could see the fog shrouded form of a man in a small rowboat, slowly moving toward him. His rescuer waved and eased the craft up to him.

"Thank God," Mulder breathed in relief, grabbing the hands that reached out to help him. "You're a lifesaver -- literally," he said, through chattering teeth, as he settled down behind his rescuer. He could barely make out the man's face, but saw that he was smiling, so he held out his hand in thanks. "Thanks for the help. I don't know how long I could have held on. That water is frigid."

The man's back was to him and he rowed in silence. Mulder let a moment pass, and then attempted to strike up a conversation once more. He had a burning question he needed answered. "Ahh -- could you please tell me where we are?"

The rowing stopped, and swaying slightly with the boats motion, the man stood up to face Mulder.

He seemed vaguely familiar. The Agent tried to place that face. "Ahh -- do I know you?" he asked, receiving a solemn nod. "Where are we?"

The man moved quickly, suddenly swinging the oar into Mulder's chest like a baseball bat. "In HELL," was the growling response.

Mulder tumbled backward to sprawl across the wood floor of the boat, all breath leaving his lungs. Fire painfully crushed his chest.

"DEFIB," he listened to the loud, deep voice float through the fog.

He rolled onto his side, straining to breathe, trying to recover from the vicious blow to his solar plexus. The agent heard and felt his assailant's boots on the wooden floor of the boat as he lurched slowly toward him.

"WHA...?" Mulder pushed up on an elbow, doubting his senses. How could anyone be walking across the floor of a tiny rowboat? He shook his head in disbelief as he surveyed his surroundings. He was lying on the deck of a sailboat, a deck that stretched a full forty feet in length. "What's going on?" He pleaded in panic, wondering what madness was overtaking him..

His rescuer turned tormentor smiled down at him, then quickly grabbed a rope to loop around the downed agent's neck. Mulder fought the noose with numbed fingers, feeling the hemp tightening sharply, sealing off his air as it dug into his skin.

"Breathe -- Damn It -- Breathe, Mulder..."

Mulder searched for Scully frantically as he tried to loosen the man's grip on the rope. Suddenly, with no warning or reason he was released, falling bonelessly to the deck, gasping for air. He felt desperate, dizzy and weak.

"No, not yet," his tormentor muttered. He grabbed Mulder by his lapels, forcing the agent to look at him. "Do you know me, Mulder? Do you know who I am?"

Mulder shook his head, but studied the face before him. "Nix?" Mulder choked in amazement..

Karl Nix dropped him to the deck and laughed, happy that his victim recognized him.

"Oh, you're good," he spat, towering over Mulder.

The air he sucked into his lungs burned, but it was a blessed relief after the near strangulation. He took advantage of the time that Nix spent gloating to gather his wits about himself.

*What is happening here? Oh, God, where is here? What the hell is going on? Where's Scully? Is this all just a dream? Have I gone insane? How the fuck is Nix here? I've got to be dreaming, because Nix is...*

"Are we dead?" Mulder asked, stunned.

Nix laughed and kicked at Mulder. It was a half-hearted punt, which the agent easily rolled away from. "You wish," Nix spat bitterly, kicking out at the battered man again.

"But -- the last I heard you were still at Valley View. You were still...."

"Still a vegetable?" Nix bellowed, stomping toward him.

Mulder scurried backwards like a crab until he managed to cover 20 or so feet to the bulkhead of the ever expanding boat. He looked around and was shocked to find that he couldn't even see the other side of the vessel any longer. It was too far away, swallowed up by the mist.

*What the fuck is going on here?*

His mind couldn't grasp what was happening. Tears sprang to his eyes as he struggled to accept the nightmare he was living.

"Yeah, I'm really here." Nix's eyes blazed in anger. "You turned me into a turnip. I'm being tube fed. I'm mindless, a vegetable because of you! I'm stuck here. In this Hell. Didn't they fucking teach you to shoot? You couldn't even shoot good enough to kill a man. Why didn't you kill me!!!??"

Fueled by his anger at Mulder, Nix lunged forward, his last words hanging in the thick miasma. Panic stricken, Mulder eased himself upward against the bulkhead to stand, then threw himself overboard. Better the cold, freezing death by drowning than the slow torture Nix had planned for him.

"I'll get you, you fucking prick!"

Mulder listened to the screams as they flowed through the mist, and tried to put distance between himself and the boat.

"And if I get you here, you WILL be in hell!" The words bounced about him, echoing eerily and Mulder shivered in the cold water. He stopped swimming for a moment, trying to get his bearings. The fog was so dense he had no idea which direction he should swim. He wasn't even sure if there were somewhere he could swim to. Was there any land hidden out there beyond the murky clouds that surrounded him?

He could hear a low murmur, constant and soothing, almost sounding like voices and for lack of a better idea, he swam toward the sound. His strokes soon became long and sure and, amazingly, he felt as though he would never tire. He felt like he could swim like this forever. That particular thought gave him a chill. What was forever in this place? He almost screamed his thanks to a God he wasn't sure existed, when he finally saw the vague outline of a tree-lined bank. He trudged up to the grassy, sand covered beach and collapsed. His lungs strained as he tried to rest and catch his breath.

After he felt somewhat refreshed, he rolled over onto his back. He was surprised that the strange, all encompassing mist had cleared and he saw stars in the night sky. Raising his head to glance around, he realized the foggy bank was still there, just hugging the ground. It made the outer reaches of his vision a little blurred and obscured the landscape, but overhead the heavens were crystal clear. He saw the familiar Milky Way of stars, the likes of which he hadn't seen since he was a child. It reminded him of when he and Sam would lie on the beach, back on the Vineyard. He gazed with appreciation at the millions of twinkling orbs, clusters of stars.

Mulder sat up quickly, forcing his wandering mind to return to the problem at hand. He took stock of himself and was pleased that other than the burning tightness in his chest, which was mercifully lessening, he was in pretty good condition. He didn't even feel tired. He patted down his person checking for other aches or pains. It hit him finally, while he was touching his chest.

"Holy shit!" He muttered in amazement. His clothes, trench coat included, were completely dry. "Damn it, what's going on!!!??" He screamed out to the clear night sky.

"It's not nice to cuss, 'specially when there are children present." A small voice floated out from the mist.

Mulder whirled to face the direction from which the comment came. His eyes grew wide at seeing a young girl walking toward him. Ever cautious, from experience with shape-shifting aliens, the agent backed away from the girl's approach, searching the beach for a stick or some other sort of weapon.

"Hi," the girl smiled. She was small, about the size of a 6 year old, but Mulder could tell by her eyes that she was older. They were large, a warm, brownish green, much like his sister's. He placed her about nine. Her hair was brown, but even in the dim light he could spot highlights of auburn. It was cut almost boyishly short. She wore jeans and a Lion King T-shirt. She studied his face and got suddenly serious upon noticing his obvious fear. "Hey, I'm not going to hurt you. My name's Amanda."

He relaxed a bit, offering his hand. The girl walked up and shook hands like a pro.

"My name's Mulder."

"Mulder??!! Mulder, Mudder." Her giggles belied her serious demeanor from the previous moment and Mulder felt the last of his tension ease. No shape-shifting alien could fake a nine-year-old girl's laugh. That's good. She was the real thing.

"Well, really, it's Fox Mulder.."

"Foxy Muddler..." the giggles grew louder and Mulder found himself caught up in her infectious laughter. God, she reminded him of Sam, although he had never thought it funny when Sam and her friends had laughed at his name.

"Yeah," he smiled. "I think my parents hated me." His comment caused the girl to grow serious once more.

"Do you know my mom?" the girl asked, her brow puckered. "The shiny ones said you're from where I'm from. Can you get me home to her?"

Mulder shook his head sadly. "I don't think so. Ahh -- I don't even know where we are, so I don't know how to get home either." He was about to ask her who the 'shiny ones' might be when she spoke again, stopping his train of thought dead.

"You know Nix is after you?" she asked, her face even more solemn at his answer.

"You know Nix?"

"Sure. Everybody here knows him, but nobody likes him," She leaned forward to whisper her confession. "I don't like him either. He's extremely mean -- you better watch out cause he likes to hurt people just out of meanness. He's been here even longer than me, way longer than me. Not too many people have been here as long as he has. And the ones that've been here that long are the crazy ones that hang out where we tell them the light is. They almost never can see the light. I don't know why, but..."

Mulder listened quietly, trying to take in the girl's spewing fountain of information. "What light?" He had already persuaded himself that he was not dead, this place just couldn't be the afterlife, but this part about a light piqued his interest.

"Oh, the light." The little girl blanched at the word, her voice soft and quivery. "The light is death. My grandma is in the light. The shiny ones come from the light. But they're all dead over there. They can come out and visit here, but they can't go back home, 'cause they're dead. I don't like the light. They call for me there. My grandma keeps telling me to come with her, but I need to get home. If I go with her, I can't go back home with my mom. See, my mom needs me."

Mulder continued to listen intently, gathering all the information he could from the little chatterbox. "Can you take me to see the light?" He asked, feeling badly when Amanda's eyes grew wide with fear. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder and she smiled up at him, nodding.

"Yeah, but I don't wanna get too close. A lot of the shiny people are here and if they'll talk to us, they'll explain more for you. They know everything, but they don't like telling us much. I don't think they're supposed to. I think it's a rule or something, not to tell us stuff."

The child chattered on as they walked through the mist-covered countryside.

Mulder listened as they strolled, trying to make sense of her tales and the odd landscape they passed through. It looked like 'home,' but then again, no one would ever see the variety of settings that passed before his eyes. Everything was covered with a continuous, thick cloud of mist and the constant hum of voices was all around him, just like it was out in the water. It was as though the fog that surrounded them was alive with sound. Now and then he would recognize one of the voices. Every now and then he could hear Scully; almost as if she were beside him, talking into his ear.

"Grandma tells me some things. But I still think she's keeping stuff from me. Of course, I could be paranoid."

Mulder chuckled at her comment and she glanced up at him, beaming with pride at his amusement in her use of a fifty-dollar word. He kept a hand on her shoulder as they trekked.

*Here's a kid after my own heart.*

"I keep telling her no, I can't go with her, 'cause I can hear Mama in the fog and I know she needs me to come home..."

"The voices are real?" Mulder asked, stopping short. "They're not our imagination?"

Amanda loved the fact that she had so attentive an audience and smiled up at him.

"Oh, yeah, they're the people we love back home talking to us. See, we can't talk back to them. Look, this is the just of the deal..."

"Gist," Mulder corrected.

"Whatever..." she replied and continued, ignoring the agents chuckle. "The people in the light, the shiny people can go down to home. People down there can see and hear them, but they are dead. They got no bodies, that's why they're shiny; they can't live down there 'cause they got no bodies."

"We're souls, Fox," announced another voice from the mist.

To give Mulder credit, he didn't startle at this interruption. He was getting used to the strangeness of his situation. He did do a classic double take, though, when he saw from whom the voice came. It was his father's youngest brother, Uncle Angus.

*And people rag on me about my name. Angus Mulder. Geez. No wonder I have such a sick sense of humor. It's hereditary.*

Mulder forced his mind back on course. Uncle Angus had been dead since '73. The same year Samantha went missing. He'd 'ate a bullet.' Another Vietnam Vet who didn't make it all the way back from the war. Angus, an ex-Marine, reminded him a lot of Skinner, except he wasn't bald, wasn't an FBI agent...

"Fox, your mind is wandering -- and you've only been here a few days. Most of you don't lose it for at least a year," Angus reprimanded, in his best 'Semper Fi' voice.

"I've been here for longer than that and I haven't lost it," Amanda piped in proudly.

"That's cause you're special, sweetheart." Angus smiled down at the child.

Mulder tried bravely to wrap his mind around the fact that he was standing in a mist-covered netherworld, talking to his long dead uncle, who, apparently, could read his mind.

"Now that's the ticket, Fox!" Angus barked. "Yes, I can read your mind. Pretty light reading, I gotta say, soldier."

*Uncle Angus was always a tease.*

A strangled laugh escaped from Mulder's throat, as he felt his control slipping. His head popped back when Angus smacked him boldly across the face. "Jesus Christ, Uncle Angus, why'd you do that?" he asked wide-eyed, reeling from the blow, his hand clasping his stinging cheek. Mulder felt Amanda huddling behind him and heard her soft whimpers. He knelt before the child, embracing her and offering soothing, whispered murmurs of comfort. "And look, you upset Amanda," Mulder said, eyes blazing.

Angus shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry, I was never very good around little girls. Remember how scared Sam always was of me?" The shimmering form of Mulder's uncle shrugged with a sigh. "But Shit! Fox, you need to get your act together! Right now!"

Mulder stood to face the 'man.'

* Holy cow, I'm taller than Uncle Angus. Far out. *

Angus rolled his eyes. "My God, son, how did you ever make it through Oxford with an attention span as short as this. Get a grip, for God's sake or Nix'll get you for sure."

That did it for Mulder; his hold on his emotions broke and he began to laugh. "I'm talking to my dead uncle. I'm in the Twilight Zone and a little girl is leading me to the light," he laughed, his knees beginning to shake. "What the fuck is going on!!"

"It's okay, Mulder," Amanda comforted.

Her words, heard so often from another red head, were a lifeline. He grabbed it. "I'm okay, honey." And he was, mostly. He turned to his uncle, his steel-trap mind forming all the right questions to ask a visitor from the other side. "Okay, Angus -- let me see if I have this right. You are a non-corporeal entity from 'Heaven'?"

"Yeah, close enough."

"Okay," the agent said, glad to finally be doing something he knew and was good at, interrogating a suspect. "Then tell me, how are you in 'Heaven,' when you offed yourself? If I've got my theology straight, don't suicides go to hell?"

"Yeah, you got your Bible straight," Uncle Angus replied in short clipped words, his voice smooth with sarcasm. "But who said what you read is gospel? Man wrote that book, so it's not infallible. We each get judged on our own merit by One being. And He knew why I did what I did. He was my judge. Not nobody down there, that's for damn sure."

Mulder was silenced by his uncle's vehement reply. Uncle Angus sighed, his expression, once again, sheepishly chagrined.

"I'm sorry." He spoke this time not to Mulder or Amanda, but to the clear sky. "Gotta work on this damn temper," he muttered to himself. Taking a deep breath for control, Angus explained. "Look, some things I can tell you, some I can't. I'm a little sensitive about my death, because it was so stupid. One of those, 'If I Knew Then,' kind of things. How about if I just jump to the chase and let you know what you need to do? There are -- ah -- certain rules about this kind of thing and I can't explain them to you. Just take my word for it. Some things won't be allowed because they circumvent His ultimate plan."

"HIS???" Mulder asked, and was stopped with a stern glance. The agent raised his hands in submission. "Okay, sorry."

With a smug look, Uncle Angus continued. "Okay. Number one. When you first came here you were in a coma, hanging between life and death." Angus paused to see how Mulder was taking this and he saw that his nephew was stunned by this revelation. "Fox, does climbing through a window to get a psychic serial killer, who being psychic, knew you were coming, ring a bell?"

Mulder nodded in surprise, the memory suddenly returning. "Yeah! Yeah, we made it in. The UNSUB must have been behind me when we started up the stairs. I didn't even know he was there until he opened fire. He hit me with at least three rounds. My God, Scully! Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. She blew the guy away. She'd make a damn fine Marine. You got hit four times, point blank, with a Browning semi-automatic. Never trust a mad killer to obey gun laws. Anyway, it messed you up pretty bad, Mulder; you got one round in the head. It was a glancing hit, but..."

"Brain damage?" Mulder asked, feeling his stomach plummet.

"Well, there's swelling, but it hasn't been decided yet if it'll kill you. Or if it'll leave permanent damage. This is one of those cases that He hasn't quite decided the outcome on. The bad part is, you're gonna be here for a while, because you're in a coma. They've kept you under to help you to heal. Now here's the skinny. You've gotta avoid Nix until I can let you know whether to go back or to go into the light. You got that?"

"If I am brain damaged, can you come and bring me into the light? I don't want to live like that, you know."

Uncle Angus cut a glance at Amanda. "Ah, Fox, that's another one of those variables. It's all part of His 'Free Will' deal. People are here because they're in a coma, kinda wandering between life and death. You stay here too long and you lose it. This place can drive you crazy, because you're so alone. You can hear your loved ones, but not interact with them. Some are stuck here of their own choosing, like Nix. They know they'll never recover back home, but they refuse to see the light. They realize, deep down they can crossover and leave this place, but they fear what comes after more than they do this place. It's horrible, but another way that people are stuck here long term is that their families are keeping them alive on respirators and stuff. They can't see the light, because their leaving has been taken out of their hands. That really drives them over the edge. Then there are the people who can see the light, but some...." His eyes cut to Amanda once more, and then he quickly glanced away. "Well, sometimes there are cases where someone's loved ones beg them not to go, even though the loved one knows it's not in the cards for them to recover. So they wander around here, hoping to get a chance to go home. But you don't have to worry about that, huh? Scully knows your wishes."

Mulder looked at the little girl sadly, and the mystery that was this child became clear in his mind. She was someone who was stuck in a coma back in the 'Real' world, and her mother wouldn't let her go.

"You got it on the money, Fox." Angus replied in a soft whisper, confirming Mulder suspicions. "She's not on life support right now, but her desire to go home to her mother is so strong..."

Amanda glared up at the men, a petulant frown on her face. "Hey, you guys talkin' about me?" she sputtered angrily.

Mulder put an arm around her in comfort. "I'm sorry, Amanda," he murmured, hoping she couldn't detect the unshed tears in his eyes.

"It's okay, Mulder," she said, trying to smile, but the attempt failed miserably. What she could follow of the conversation between Mulder and his shiny person uncle upset her. A lot.

"Okay, I gotta hurry now, 'cause Nix is coming and you two gotta fly. Now, where was I -- oh yeah, Nix. He's another one of those variables. Fox, if Nix gets to you, he's gonna try to kill you. Which isn't the same as killing you back on earth. See, if he kills you here you'll be automatically clinically brain dead back home, because that's what you are when you're here. A mind. So your soul will be stuck in a mindless body. There'll be no chance of your ever getting well, so you'll be stuck in a vegetative state. You'll just go on breathing until your body finally wears out. Because you won't be here in this halfway place, you won't be able to see the light. There's no way out." The burly Marine shuddered and Mulder did, too.

"But I have so many questions," Mulder pleaded, as his uncle moved to shake his hand.

Angus gave a half smile and pumped Mulder's hand. "Look, son, she'll show you the ropes, so you'll have a chance; anything else, you don't really want to know, in case you do make it back. I've already told you too much as it is. Knowledge like this just doesn't work back home. People tend to crucify those who know too much about the afterlife, if you know what I mean. I just hope your brains got scrambled enough, so that if you go back, you won't remember any of this."

"Thanks a lot." Mulder chuckled wryly at his uncle's wish for him to have scrambled brains. "That's all I need."

Angus' frown was dark. "Now, Fox, you got enough people on your ass down there for what you know about that world. Some truths you don't really want to find out." The man let go of his nephew's hand, squeezing it once to emphasize his words. "Now you two take off. He's coming."

Mulder sprinted blindly through the fog, Amanda in his arms. He felt as though he could run forever. Amanda held tightly to his neck, and the feel of her warm arms about him seemed to give him unlimited strength. He finally slowed at seeing a light ahead and stopped to put the child down.

"Amanda," he asked, turning the girl to see the brightness. "Is that the light?"

The child gulped audibly and nodded.

Mulder led her to a bench that had magically appeared and the two sat down to rest. She had been strangely silent during, and since his talk with Uncle Angus and it worried him. "Well, 'Manda, what do you suggest we do now?"

Amanda grinned up at him suddenly. "My mama calls me that. You know? 'Manda without the A." Her eyes misted over and Mulder pulled her near, holding her close on his lap.

"Do you really want me to die?" She sobbed, burying her wet face into his neck. "Is that what you and your uncle meant when you were talking? I didn't understand everything you were saying, but wasn't that the just of it?"

"Gist," Mulder corrected.

"Whatever." The child tried to laugh through her tears.

"You're something else, Buttmunch," he chuckled, giving her a squeeze, then setting her beside him.

Amanda giggled at his pet name, and Mulder felt tears spring to his eyes.

"Don't cry, Mulder -- I'm here."

Scully's voice floated through the mist. Amanda glanced up at him as she heard the woman's words.

"The lady who loves you -- is she your wife?"

"No, she's my partner," Mulder answered out of reflex, fighting the tears of longing. He wiped a hand across his eyes and knew Amanda was trying to understand. "I work with her."

"She's always there -- she must be your lover, too."

Mulder couldn't stop the whoop of laughter that slipped from him at the precocious child's statement. He cast a sidelong glance at her and saw she was beaming because she had shocked him.

"I wish," he muttered, and Amanda burst into giggles at his risque utterance. Mulder winked at her, and she leaned her head against him, pulling her feet up on the bench to get comfortable.

"So, you gonna marry her?"

Mulder stopped a moment to think before he answered, a wistful expression in his eyes. "Maybe, if I get back. Yeah, maybe I will."

This seemed to make Amanda happy and she snuggled closer. "Yeah, then you can have a little girl and name her Amanda and I can come over and baby-sit. I'm almost a teenager. I will be by the time you and your lady start making babies, so I could baby-sit for you. Oh -- Oh -- maybe you'll have twins. That would be so great, wouldn't it? Two babies, a boy and a girl. You could name them Mulder and Amanda and I could..."

Mulder grinned ruefully, letting the child ramble on, allowing her to share her dreams as they rested in the cool, still night.

* * * * *

Chapter 2 -- "Who Ya Gonna Call...?"


Daylight never came. Amanda and Mulder never slept. They sat on the bench for hour, days -- who knew how long. Physical fatigue might not have been a problem in this place, but mental strain was. Pain was a transitory dilemma. The place on Mulder's chest where Nix had hit him with the oar didn't even leave a bruise. The little girl spent the time talking about this and that. It was an endless prattle that the man found both amusing and oddly relaxing. All the child needed from him was an occasional word or two to reaffirm that he was listening. Some of what she told him floated right through his benumbed brain, but a good bit of what she said proved to be very informative.

Amanda had been in this 'land' for what she believed to be three years. Her deductive reasoning on this was simple. Each year her mother spent the child's birthday by her bedside. She believed she was a long term patient at the same hospital where Mulder was fighting for his life. With help from Amanda and a little bit of trial and error, he discovered that he was the programmer for his environment in this world. His control was not complete, however. Uncle Angus had assured him there was a Master Programmer, but he could control much of what was around him. He discovered the bench they sat on had sprung from Amanda's mind. It also explained the crazy, expanding boat. It must have come from Nix's imagination and was manipulated by his desires. Amanda suggested that the beach he had landed on had come from his own subconscious. Had he not wanted to get out of the water, and put his feet on solid ground, he could have still been swimming around that lake. A chilling thought, in more ways than one.

After hearing from Amanda about all the ways he could manipulate things here, he decided to try a little experiment. He wished for some fresh clothes and sure enough, in a blink of an eye, he was attired in a clean, pressed suit.

"Man this is great!" Mulder exclaimed excitedly. He rose from the bench and paraded his handiwork in front of the girl. The child's smile reminded him of the grin Scully often gave him.

*Are all women born knowing how to give men that smile? *

A chuckle escaped at the thought. That grin could only be described as a 'Fondly Patronizing' look. He felt a heaviness against his chest and was surprised to find not only his gun, but wonder of wonders, his cell phone.

"Hey look, 'Manda, I'm fully equipped," he quipped showing her his discovery.

Amanda glanced at the phone and shook her head, grinning. "So, who ya gonna call -- Ghostbusters??" she asked smugly, then giggled when he cast her the evil eye.

"Think the gun'll work?" Mulder quizzed his fountain of knowledge.

Amanda pondered the question a moment, then shrugged. "Try it out."

"On what?"

Mulder's inspiration came in the form of a regulation silhouette hung on a tree. Immediately both appeared. Taking aim, he fired. His shot was dead on through the heart. Even his aim was better here. The gun worked. Then he realized that the fact that firearms worked here was a two-edged sword. Nix could conjure a gun, too. In the next moment, Mulder discovered that firing the gun had been a mistake. A big mistake. Nix not only had a gun, he'd conjured a machine gun. The mist around Mulder and Amanda exploded with sound and flying bullets. Mulder grabbed the child, pulling her to the ground, shielding her with his body.

"Mulderrrr!!"

Amanda lay beneath him, whimpering softly. With Nix's scream, she shivered uncontrollably against him.

"Amanda," he whispered gently into her ear. The girl was unresponsive. It frightened the agent. "Amanda, are you okay?"

"Yes," she peeped.

"Were you hit?"

"No."

Mulder pondered their predicament, all the while listening to the child's quick, frantic breathing. He searched through the mist trying to spot a hiding place. Then it hit him. The light -- Nix couldn't see the light. Maybe if they got as close to it as they could, without actually going in, he couldn't see them. It might at least offer them some protection. And if worst came to worst, they could go into it. To Mulder that was a viable option, better than years stuck in this place. Amanda, on the other hand, well, it was going to be hard enough to get her to go even close to that beacon.

"Come on, honey," he whispered to her. "I've got an idea."

Amanda followed him with complete trust, and hunkering down, they scurried off. Everything was going fine, until the child saw where they were heading. She froze.

"NO!!!" A careening scream issued from the little girl. It was a sound louder than Mulder thought possible from so small a body. Mulder pulled her to the ground as bullets split the air where they had been standing.

The agent put a hand over the girl's mouth and pleaded frantically into her ear. "Amanda, NO! Shhhh!!!" His words came in a heated rush. "That's how he finds us, honey. He can't see us through the mist until he's right on us. But he can hear us if we're loud. This mist is a conductor. That means it's like a telephone wire. It's why we can hear the voices from back home. When I fired the gun, that's how he found us."

Amanda continued to squirm against him, and he felt her screams still. Cautiously, he removed his hand. It pained him to hear her frightened, panting sobs.

"You wanna pull me into the light, Mulder?" she whimpered softly.

"Oh, no, honey," Mulder choked out, almost sobbing himself. He wrapped his arms about her, smoothing her soft, short hair, "I'd never do that to you. I love you, Buttmunch. You only go into that light when you want to go, baby. I'd never make you do it."

Mulder saw her tear filled eyes sparkling in the starlight, and his own filled and spilled over.

"Let's see if he can see us by the light," Amanda whispered in his ear, nudging him to get up.

Mulder patted her shoulder in encouragement and the two, holding hands, crept toward the bright glow. Nix could hear their whispers and snuck toward the two. A machine gun was fine, but what he really wanted to see was the expression on Fox Mulder's face when he put a bullet though his brain. He cursed when the agent and girl got up and snuck off. They were quiet, but he had never seen the mist swallow anyone as quickly as it did his prey. They completely disappeared. He ran to the spot where they had vanished into the mist. The fog at this point was so thick, light didn't even reflect off of it. Nix felt a vague chill and moved away, deciding to search elsewhere for the pair.

Mulder didn't like how close they'd come to disaster. He and Amanda spent the next few days/weeks questioning any souls they spotted for information and honing their skills at environmental manipulation. They had a few more run-ins with Nix, but the maniac never got as close as he did the time they hid by the light. Boredom soon became a problem, for they had no references by which to mark the time. Mulder was dismayed that he didn't hear Scully as often. Amanda unintentionally made him feel worse when she told him that her mom's visits had gotten further apart, the longer she was in her coma.

"How long do you think I've been here?" Mulder whispered. They both always whispered now. No sense in tipping Nix off to their whereabouts.

"Well, I haven't had another birthday," Amanda piped.

Her words didn't help Mulder's feelings. He was beginning to worry about what was going on back home.

*Am I brain damaged? How long is my coma gonna last? Am I a vegetable? Is that why Scully's not visiting me?*

They hadn't spotted Uncle Angus since his one visit and Amanda was right. The 'shiny people' didn't give out much information. Mulder was growing bitter. God was entirely too tight lipped. He almost gave up hope and was pondering going into the light. The one thing that kept him from doing this was he didn't want to leave Amanda alone. He could not make the little girl understand that he felt that death was better than this place. The child's hope could not be shaken. She would not enter the light as long as her mama needed her.

Until Uncle Angus finally came back.

They stayed close to the light for protection, and spent lots of time questioning the beings that came and went through the portal. At last Mulder saw his eccentric Uncle.

"Yo, Marine!" He called.

Angus smiled at his greeting, but Mulder could tell he had something important to say. The agent's stomach sank, because judging by his uncle's expression, the news was not good.

*I'm brain damaged. *

"No, Fox," Angus said, shaking his head, "It looks like you'll either recover fully or die."

"Oh, good," Mulder replied sarcastically. "Ahh -- I pick recover fully."

Angus chuckled. "Spoken like a true smart ass," he said fondly. "No. That won't be decided 'til you get back, but there's a problem. See they've got you in an induced coma. It's helping you to recover, but you've gotta get home now. Nix has figured out how you've been hiding from him. He's out there right now, just waiting for the perfect moment. If you move away from right here, in front of the door, he'll get you. Or her."

Mulder scowled, "That's perfect -- just perfect. What do you suggest?" His tone was bitter. Life here was bad enough, but to be confined to the portal, well, he'd rather go into the light.

"Well, somebody has to tell your friend, Scully, to get the doctors to allow you to wake up. They know you've healed enough. They're worried about the pain you'll have but, hell, you know, you don't have a choice."

"Will you do that for me?" Mulder asked his uncle. "Appear to Scully and tell her what we need? She's a skeptic, but you look enough like me that she's bound to see the resemblance. That'll help convince her."

"I'm a lot better looking," Angus said with a wry grin. His expression then grew serious with what he had to say. "But HE won't let me do it. There's only one person HE'll let do it.''

Mulder followed his uncle's gaze to Amanda, and felt his blood chill at seeing her eyes go wild.

"No!" He spat. "No way!" Mulder replied, squatting down to comfort the girl. "Plan B?"

Uncle Angus shook his head, "There isn't any Plan B, Fox."

"Well, I'll just go back with you, into the light," Mulder replied angrily.

At that moment, the light turned off and Mulder was shocked to see Amanda and Angus blink out. They disappeared in an instant.

"AMANDA!!" the agent yelled. At his scream, a bullet whizzed by his head.

"Shit!" Nix cursed at the near miss.

Mulder dropped to the ground. He couldn't see the light. He was alone with Nix and his only escape route was cut off. He huddled in the darkness, allowing the fog to protectively swallow him. He knew that the Master Programmer was in charge, and there was nothing he could do.

Amanda saw Mulder drop to the ground and heard the bullet whiz by. She looked up at Angus with tears in her eyes and took courage from his smile, so like her friend's.

"You know what you have to do, sweetheart," Angus murmured softly.

The little girl nodded, but stalled, tears streaming down her face. "But what about my mama?"

"HE'll help her understand."

Amanda gave a nod, and with a child's faith, stepped into the light.

* * * * *

Dana Scully sat in the hall outside of the ICU. She couldn't count how many times she'd kept this vigil. Her hands shook when she brought the cup to her lips and she fought the tears. Her partner had been critically injured in a stakeout, a month ago today. At first there had been no hope. A bullet had cleaved a three inch long splinter from his skull. One more had torn through his chest, collapsing his lung, almost drowning him in his own blood. Another had ripped open his gut, coming to rest just inches from his spine. And the forth had hit his knee, shattering it.

She'd spent many an hour in the hospital chapel. Praying. Thinking. And somebody had listened. At first, Mulder had started gaining ground. It looked as if he was going to recover. The Doctors had suggested an induced coma and Dana, knowing how Mulder fought almost everything that was good for him, had agreed. And the healing respite had worked. Mulder's recovery was progressing rapidly. Yesterday had been a crossroads. They had to decide whether to allow the coma to continue or to bring him out. Dana and the doctors chose to keep Mulder sedated. The very fighting will that had allowed him to survive so grave an injury would still be working against him. He needed to rest and recover. Plus the pain would still be severe.

And then everything went to hell. Not more than an hour ago, Dana received a call that Mulder's vitals were much too rapid and erratic. She had hurried to the hospital to find her partner was in danger of stroke. They could do nothing to control his skyrocketing blood pressure and racing pulse. He was going to burn out at this rate.

Scully sighed. She felt so tired. She sat listlessly, resting, her eyes closing of their own will. She felt she must have dozed because she didn't hear anyone approach. The slight touch on her arm brought her instantly awake, and she was surprised to see a solemn little girl standing in front of her. The child looked to be a small-for-her-age eight or nine. Her reddish-brown hair was close cropped in a style Dana herself had worn on and off during her childhood. Pixie, it had been called, a Pixie haircut. She wore a clean but old Lion King T-shirt and faded but clean jeans. And 'tenny runners', as her Navy dad used to call them.

The girl grinned at her and Scully returned her smile. "Are you lost, honey?" She asked, as she straightened, running a hand through her sleep mussed hair.

The child gave a solemn nod. She seemed to be pondering something, mulling it over in her head. "Scully, Mulder and Uncle Angus sent me to tell you what you need to do."

The child's words shocked the agent, making her shiver. What was going on? *Am I dreaming?*

"No," the child replied and a giggle escaped her. "Oh, cool, I just read your mind, like Uncle Angus does."

*What is going on here?*

"Look, I gotta hurry back, Scully," the child said urgently. "You gotta tell the doctors to let Mulder come out of the coma or he'll never make it back, okay?"

Dana nodded and the little girl grinned.

"Good," she laughed, then started off down the hall, only to turn at the end. "Oh, and Mulder promised that you two would name your first kid Amanda," and with a wave she was gone.

Scully sat in stunned silence, trying to take in her hallucination.. She almost had herself convinced it was stress, when her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of crying. She glanced up and saw a young woman about her own age, exiting the double doors of the ICU. The woman nodded to the agent and offered a weak grin. Scully was taken aback by the startling resemblance of this grieving woman and the child in her dream.

"Hi," the woman said softly, a bit uncomfortable with Scully's stare.

"Hi," Dana answered, embarrassed by her own rudeness. The agent busied herself with looking for a brush in her purse, not wanting to meet the woman's eyes.

Apparently, the fellow ICU visitor needed to talk, for she started up a conversation. "They just brought my daughter up," the young mother said, and continued when Scully nodded in sympathy. "She's nine. She's been in a coma for three years, but about an hour ago, she just..." she stopped, unable to continue through her tears.

Scully reached out a wildly shaking hand to comfort the young mother and forced herself to ask the question. "Wha -- What's your daughter's name?"

"Amanda."

Scully bolted to her feet and with a hurried 'Excuse Me,' ran down the hall on a mission, leaving the woman to stare after her in stunned silence.

* * * * *

Mulder kept to the ground, trying to stay just beyond the reaches of Nix's vision. The cat and mouse game seemed to go on for hours and his mind was growing so weary. His heart was racing in his chest, pounding so loudly it was hard to believe Nix couldn't hear it. Suddenly the door way opened, just as quickly as it had closed, and the light burned brightly once again. Fox welcomed the light and stood to follow Amanda into it. He stopped short when he heard the child scream.

"No! Mulder wait!" Amanda came rushing from the portal into his arms.

He scooped her up and hugged her close, laughing and crying all at once, as the little girl babbled excitedly.

"I did it Mulder. I told her what to do. Boy, is she pretty. I told her to name your baby Amanda," the child rattled on excitedly.

"Good for you, Buttmunch," he cried, holding Amanda tightly. His heart stopped in his chest when he spotted Nix.

The man was standing not more than five feet away, straining to see through the fog, aiming a gun directly at them. Mulder put Amanda down and gave her a shove toward the light. "Run, Amanda!"

That was all Nix needed to take a bead on the agent and he fired instantly at Mulder's head.

Fox Mulder awoke to searing pain, in his chest, in his gut, in his head. He felt he was choking and struggled against the tube in his throat.

"Relax, Mulder," came Dana Scully's soothing voice. He felt her warm, gentle hands caressing his forehead. "Relax."

Mulder sighed now that he was at last able to see her, and tears clouded his eyes.

Scully saw the tears and leaned closer to comfort him. "I know it hurts, Mulder, but just relax and let us help you."

His partner was amazed when he nodded and did exactly what she said. Fox Mulder relaxed, peacefully drifting off to sleep, thankful to be home again.

* * * * *

Chapter 3 "...and a child shall lead them."


Two months had passed and Fox Mulder had recovered enough to be going home, although it was his partners home he was going to. He had been in this room for six weeks, and was sick at the sight of the four walls that surrounded him. However, this time, to Dana Scully's amazement, he had not complained once. He had done everything the doctors told him to do. No griping, no whining.

"We should put you in a coma every time you get hurt," Scully teased. She felt badly when she saw the frightened look on his face. "Sorry," she murmured, patting his leg in comfort.

He nodded in acceptance of her apology, and gave her a grin to reassure her he was okay. He had been so good this hospital stay it scared her. Mulder seemed to be back to normal, but something had happened to him. Scully didn't think it was any kind of brain damage. He seemed to have all his faculties back. The bullet hadn't hit any of the centers of the brain where personality lay. Maybe it was just the fact he'd faced his own mortality. She wondered if he'd had a near death experience. She knew her illness had changed her, and she had come back to the church after her cancer.

*That must be it, * she thought to herself.

One of the changes she noticed was nothing seemed to surprise him. She had told him the story of her vision of the little girl and how the child had saved his life. He didn't even tease her about her lack of skepticism. He was very emotional, which Dana knew was common after injury to the brain. Mulder cried for hours when she told him the little girl had died at almost the same time he'd regained consciousness. Scully wanted to discuss all the strange coincidences that had occurred. First there was the fact that her vision had told her to name their child Amanda.

*Like we'd ever have a kid together. Oh brother!*

That had been her name, the child who had died. Amanda. Second, she'd seen the little girl after her death. It was the girl in her vision. Lastly, the child had told her about an Uncle Angus.

*God, where did the Mulder family get those names?*

Scully had learned during her friendship with Mulder that he had an uncle who had killed himself years before, but to learn from a vision his name was Angus was a bit too much for coincidence. Oddly, Mulder had not even wanted to discuss it with her. No debates, no suppositions, no haranguing her with his own beliefs on what the afterlife was like. He had simply stated, "I don't think we're really meant to know what comes next," and refused to be baited into any kind of conversation about it. Mulder's not wanting to argue with her really had her worried.

But he was ready to come home today. And he was coming home with her.

They were only a block from the hospital when Mulder handed Scully the slip of paper. She glanced at it and her brow raised questioningly. It was an address.

"It's where they buried Amanda," Mulder told her, and he gave her a pleading look. "Can we stop there? It's on the way."

Scully felt she had to comply with his wishes; there were tears in his eyes. Another shock came when they got to the grave site. There were several people there, including the little girl's mother. The young woman rushed to the car when she saw it was Mulder and helped Scully get him into his wheelchair.

"It's here," she exclaimed excitedly, leading the way up the walk to the graveside. "Thank you so much for buying it for her. I could never have gotten it so quickly, what with the expenses and all."

Scully leaned over the chair to whisper in Mulder's ear. "You bought her a marker?"

Mulder nodded, but stayed silent. They couldn't get his chair next to the stone, so Amanda's mother read aloud the inscription Mulder had supplied.

AMANDA RAE MCKINNON
"Beloved"
August 9, 1989 - March 1, 1999
"...and a little child shall lead them"

THE END

DISCLAIMER: The song that gives this piece its title is by Van Morrison, a beautiful classic rock ballad. Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and the X-Files belong to Chris Carter and Fox. They graciously let us have fun with them, and no money has changed hands with this story.

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