"Send us something to eat, Massa Jeff. I'm hungry." Private Sam Watkins to Jeff Davis as he reviewed the Confederate troops-October 1863
*****
August 28, 1862
General "Stonewall" Jackson's Camp
Near Manassas Junction, Virginia
As it turned out, the Union army lead by Pope didn't find the Confederates that day. Jackson's camp was quiet, the men relaxing as much as they possibly could with a battle in their near future. Scully spent the afternoon and evening following Melanie around. They learned upon their arrival to the camp that Melanie's husband, Sean, had left with several troupers to acquire much needed chloroform, morphine, and other necessary medical items from a local doctor. Scully helped Melanie as she set about tearing up linen sheets. They would later use these strips as bandages.
When Sean Collins arrived, Scully felt tears in her eyes. She hadn't seen this young man in years, for in her world, he was already dead. The man she knew as Pendrell had had a huge crush on her, something that Mulder had loved to tease her about. This Pendrell, however, only had eyes for his wife.
That evening, the fighting began.
Jackson sent some of his now rested troops to attack Union Brigadier General Rufus King's division, and they fought hard until sundown. Scully saw none of the battle, but she heard the artillery in the distance. And she saw the aftereffects of the battle almost immediately.
Men began pouring into the medical tent around 5 P.M. Some were standing, most were not. Scully found it hard to overcome the rustic facilities in her attempt to help Sean and the other doctors, and more than once she was on the receiving end of some deadly glares from the other nurses. But within 30 minutes, she had gotten the hang of things. Orderlies, mostly young soldiers who were recovering from injuries of their own, would look at the wounded men and determine how serious their injuries were. The most serious were brought to the first available doctor. The doctors, four in this part of the camp, ran around wildly, determining who would go into surgery and when. Due to the large number of wounded coming in at once, the doctors had no time for long surgeries. What couldn't be saved immediately was cut off.
Scully was horrified. Of course, she had read about the many amputations, but she had never thought to be amongst them. While the chloroform used to sedate was plentiful, it didn't always knock the patient out completely. Screaming and swearing, from both doctor and patient, was constant. Scully was not allowed into the tent where these 'operations' were performed; she hadn't yet proven she could handle it. She wasn't really sure she could.
By dusk, Scully had earned her 'stripes' on the battlefield, meaning she hadn't passed out or become sick once. But the smell of blood, gunpowder, chloroform and sweat was imprinted in her mind forever. As were the screams. She and Melanie helped care for the recovering patients until well past midnight, when Sean ordered them to get some sleep. Scully knew she wouldn't be able to. The image of the pile of legs and arms she had seen outside the surgery was still too clear in her head, as were the many blank eyes of dead and dying men.
Lying in the cot next to Melanie in the Collins' tent, Scully did sleep. But her dreams were not pleasant. In these dreams, Colonel Jason Stanton was one of those blank eyed men. Only suddenly, he wasn't Jason, but Mulder.
*****
"I can't spare this man. He fights." A. Lincoln, regarding Grant-1864
*****
August 29, 1862
Near Manassas Junction, Virginia
Dawn arrived, and with it work. Scully and Melanie were immediately at work near the medical tent, helping to change bandages and feed the recovering men. Several were still near death, facing infections that would leave them sick and in pain for days. Morphine was used sparingly, with the amputees getting the most. And no penicillin, Scully thought. It hadn't been discovered yet.
Scully was busy trying to explain to a nurse why it was better to use a clean sponge for every patient (they had no idea what she meant when she talked about 'germs' and bacteria), when Darlene Montgomery made an appearance. Melanie had mentioned her the other day. She was one of the more experienced nurses, and Melanie had been upset that she had been gone yesterday; on personal business, she had been told. But now, the war-widowed Mrs. Montgomery was back. Scully took one look at the tall, dark-haired woman and felt an uncompromising anger fill her soul.
Diana.
Yes, Scully knew the woman had saved Mulder's life. And yes, she felt a tinge of regret every time she thought of the woman's murder. But this Diana was very obviously alive and well. And Scully was sure she was up to no good.
Melanie introduced them. Diana/Darlene, who had been polite and friendly upon meeting Scully, turned more than a little 'bitchy' after Melanie left them alone together.
"Mrs. Hale," she said, her voice smooth, her eyes venomous. "There are rumors going around that you were caught spying in Washington and had to run or else be put into prison. I imagine you would have attracted a great deal of attention locked up like Rose Greenhow. Oh, how these southern boys would have loved you then." Rose Greenhow was a very popular Washington widow who had been convicted of spying. It was through Rose that the Confederates had known to prepare for the Union attack at the First Battle of Bull Run one year ago. Scully was sure Darlene had not meant the statement as a compliment.
"Yes," Scully answered back just as smoothly. "But I'm content with the affections of just one southern 'boy' right now."
Darlene narrowed her eyes, and Scully was sure Darlene knew she had been talking about Colonel Stanton. It was at that moment that the Colonel arrived, riding his horse into the camp. "Well, speak of the devil," Scully whispered. Darlene turned to look, and Scully saw her eyes get bright. As had happened so many times in the past...er, future...Scully felt jealousy. 'Great,' she thought. 'Not again.'
Stanton had dismounted and was walking toward them. His eyes were hidden in the shadow caused by his hat, so she couldn't read his expression well, but he seemed rather grim. He touched the brim of his hat as he approached. "Ladies."
"Hello, Jason." Darlene smiled. Scully tried her best not to roll her eyes. "Chris was looking for you earlier. Did he find you?"
Stanton cleared his throat, as if he was discussing something, or someone, he disliked. "Yes. He did. But I don't think we need to discuss that now." He glanced at Scully, and she felt a sudden surge of anger at his distrust.
Darlene laughed. "Oh, Jason! I was practically accusing her of spying for the South and you're afraid she's working for the Yanks!" She looked at Scully. "I guess it's your manner. It seems so odd to us. No one can quite decide what you are."
"That's quite all right," Scully responded. "I know what I am, and that's all that matters." She looked at Stanton and said, frost coating her voice, "Colonel, excuse me. I have to get back to work." She turned on her heel and strode back to the medical tent, hoping there were more sheets to rip up. She felt like destroying something.
"Dana!" He was following her, and his voice sounded just like Mulder's at his most petulant. "Dana, wait!"
She spun around to face him. "Excuse me? Dana?"
He stopped, bowed his head and took his hat off, running his fingers through his hair, which was just as thick, but longer, than Mulder's. "I'm sorry. Mrs. Hale." He sighed. "Darlene doesn't mean anything by her remarks. She doesn't trust anybody." He laughed softly. "Neither do I."
Scully was standing with her arms folded in front of her. She bit her lower lip, the said softly, hesitantly, "It wasn't HER remarks that made me angry." She looked at the ground by his boots. When he made no comment, she looked up. His eyes were on her, intent and curious.
"Who are you, Dana Hale, that I can meet you on a dark night in the middle of an ambush and feel like I’ve known you forever?"
Scully shrugged, avoiding his gaze once more. "I don't know." She licked her suddenly dry lips and met his eyes with her own. "But I do know that you can trust me. I'm no spy. I can guarantee you I will not involve myself in this war outside of helping to save lives." She sighed. "Think of me as an observer." An observer who already knows how this war will end, she added to herself.
He was silent for a while. Then, with that familiar, endearing, smirk on his face, he said, "I believe you."
"Jason!"
A man in civilian clothing ('Great,' Scully thought. 'I'm thinking like the military!') ran up to them. He was clean shaven, which was unusual in a mature man of this time, and he looked well-off. As he got closer, Scully recognized him. She almost expected Stanton to attack him, but the man beside her stood still, keeping his hatred in check.
The man Scully knew as Krycek stopped in front of them. He smiled at her, his handsome face almost boyish. "Mrs. Hale. What a pleasure 'seeing' you again."
Scully knew she must have looked confused, because Stanton explained. "Dana, this is Chris Alexander. Formerly a Lieutenant in the United States Army."
"Now a Confederate spy," Scully concluded. "Yes, Mr. Alexander. I understand you were at the party I attended at General Parker's residence. Funny how we both ended up here, in a Confederate camp."
Alexander laughed. "Yes, indeed. I find there are many amusing coincidences in all of life if you just look for them." He looked at Stanton. "For example, the Colonel here. He was one of West Point's best and brightest, swearing loyalty to the United States of America, yet he chose to fight against them. Some would question where his real loyalties lie."
"I'm not the one risking execution by being caught as a spy," Stanton said, his voice dark. "I would watch my back, if I were you, Alexander. Next time you go under as a Federal, someone might just let it slip that you really belong south of the Mason/Dixon."
Alexander glared at him. But then he grinned again and looked at Scully. "See what I mean? Loyalty. It's questionable." He bowed his head to Scully. "Mrs. Hale. I hope to see you again soon." He turned away and left them, but before he got too far, he spun around again, walking backwards as he spoke. "Oh, and Colonel? As a professional, I feel obliged to tell you that you have a spy in your midst." His smile broadened. "But I'm sure you knew that already." He turned again and walked away.
Scully looked at Stanton, her brow furrowed. "Is he lying?"
Stanton looked at her, a small smile of his face. It didn't reach is eyes. "No. I've been trying to find the leak in this camp for months. And I'm sure he knows who it is. But he'll never say."
"But I thought he was on your side!"
He shook his head. "This is all a game to him. He's a rich boy playing a dangerous game. I don't think he really cares who wins."
"Colonel!" Sergeant Bowers sat on his horse nearby. "General Stuart would like to speak with you."
Stanton nodded and looked down at Scully. "Well, Mrs. Hale. I guess I'll see you when this battle is finished."
"You'd better," she said softly.
His eyes softened. "I'll find you when it's over."
Scully couldn't stop the next words, though she tried. "What about Darlene?"
There was that smirk again. She wished she could hit him to get it off his face. Or maybe kissing him would work, too. "Darlene is a lonely widow in desperate need of a man to keep her in line." He paused. "I am not that man." With that, he turned and walked back to his horse. Scully watched him until he disappeared behind the camp tents.
Three hours later, the Second Battle of Bull Run, also known as the Second Manassas, began.
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"There will never be peace in Tennessee until Forrest is dead." Sherman, speaking of Nathan Bedford Forrest-1864
*****
August 29, 1862 - mid-afternoon
Near Manassas Junction, Virginia
Jackson hid his Confederates behind an unfinished railroad grade. It was the only advantage they had against the advancing Union army, as Pope's Federals outnumbered them three to one. But unknown to Pope, General Longstreet, who had followed him with 25,000 men of his own, positioned themselves on Jackson's right flank; Pope had apparently forgotten about the Confederates to his rear.
Jackson's men fought gallantly, and managed to distract Pope long enough for Longstreet to slip his men in without notice. The fighting ceased at sunset; night battles were extremely rare. But the work of the doctors and nurses would continue on until dawn.
Scully found that this night was far worse than the night before. Last night's battle had been a skirmish compared to this. Sean and the other doctors were coming to slowly respect her judgment, and she was able to do more in the way of doctoring. By evening, she was taking her turn in the surgery. She began to realize the necessity of the amputations. They weren't just done because the doctors lacked time; the limbs of many of the soldiers were completely destroyed, and many wouldn't have been saved even had they been in the care of 1999 doctors. Scully realized it was because of the new, 'modern' weapons these men fought with.
Rifles were slowly replacing muskets, and other more powerful firearms were coming into play. But while the weapons were 'improving', the way the men fought were not. They still lined up in formation and marched across open fields toward their enemy. It would take a long time for them to realize how suicidal this method was. With muskets and bayonets it had worked fine. But not anymore. Now, it meant shattered legs, arms that hung by only tendons to shoulders, and abdominal wounds that meant a long, painful death. Scully swallowed her horror, and worked as best she could among the screaming and crying.
Despite the many dead and dying men, she felt like she was indeed doing good. She wondered what else she could do, especially with her knowledge of major future events. Even though she had told Stanton she was an observer, sometime during the long night she wondered what she could change about upcoming events that might change history. They were dangerous thoughts, but she couldn't stop thinking them. By morning, she had decided what she could do to make 1999 better.
For years, Scully had believed that if President Abraham Lincoln had lived, things would have been better for both the North and the South. Lincoln would be assassinated by John Wilkes Booth only a few days after Lee would surrender to Grant in April of 1865. He had just begun his second term as president. The North had been upset because, while he had been ridiculed in the past, he had won the war, and they loved him. The South became upset because they had believed Lincoln would treat them fair and welcome them back to the Union with open arms. They had reason to be afraid after his death; reunification had not been easy, for the white residents OR for the newly freed blacks. It would be another 100 years before civil rights would be won. If Lincoln had lived, would it have happened sooner? Would the South have retained their contempt for their 'conquerors' for as long as they did? It was a big question, but one that Scully had plenty of time to contemplate.
One thing she didn't question was Lincoln's brilliance. The man, who had been extremely sensitive and caring, had managed to win a war to keep his country together. That had been his only goal. Everything else, including the abolition of slavery, had been icing on the cake. And he had succeeded. Scully wished she could meet the man. Who knew? Maybe she would. If she did, she would tell him how much she admired him. She would tell him how proud she was of him.
And maybe she would advise him not to go to a play called 'Our American Cousin' at Ford's Theatre on April 14, 1865.
************************************************************
"Sunday a soldier of Company A died and was buried. Everything went on as if nothing had happened, for death is so common that little sentiment is wasted. It is not like death at home." Private Elisha Hunt Rhodes-1864
*****
August 30, 1862
Near Manassas Junction, Virginia
August 30th proved to be a very hot day, making the fighting that much more difficult. At dawn, Pope mistook the Confederate’s realignment as retreat. He continued to hammer away at the Confederate lines, completely oblivious to Confederate General Longstreet's presence. Longstreet liked it that way. He let Jackson's men fight off attack after attack, watching as the Union soldiers tired.
Scully was exhausted. She had slept for about two hours that morning before the artillery woke her. She left Melanie, who was sleeping fully clothed next to her husband, who was also still in yesterday's clothing. Scully looked down at her own soiled dress and thanked God the daily wearing of corsets had pretty much been obliterated during the war. Slowly, she moved toward the medical tent, vaguely wondering how many gallons of blood she would see today.
Though the fighting had started, the camp itself was quiet. Few people moved about, and those that did moved with a slow, tired pace. So, the woman running furtively across the ground several feet in front of Scully caught her attention immediately. Darlene.
No quite knowing why, Scully began to follow her, as quickly and quietly as her long skirts would allow. When the woman took a saddled horse from the picket line and mounted, Scully had second thoughts. As Stanton's roan had proved to her, these horses were not quiet trail mounts. Trained to ignore gunfire and artillery, and fit enough to travel miles on end day after day, these horses, like the people, were unlike anything she had encountered in her time. But she had to know where Darlene was going.
She walked up to a small chestnut mare who stood hipshot, eyes half closed. She looked quiet enough. Scully untied the mare, then ran her hand under the girth of the saddle to insure it was tight, as she had seen the men do. Pushing her skirts out of the way, she mounted, again thanking God for finding her a short horse. The mare was immediately awake, ears back towards her rider, waiting for a command. Tentatively, Scully touched the mare with her heels and neck-reined her away from the camp. The mare understood and
was prompt in her response. Her ears flicked forward and Scully knew she had seen the horse and rider in front of them. "That's is, girl," Scully whispered. "Follow that horse."
While Scully followed Darlene, staying as far back as she could to avoid detection, she and the mare learned what to expect of each other and Scully relaxed a bit in the saddle. When Darlene stopped her horse and dismounted, Scully stopped and got off as well, tying her horse to a tree. She
started after Darlene on foot. They had moved away from the battle, and the sounds of the cannon was distant, sounding like thunder. The air was heavy, the sun hot. The shade of the trees was welcome. Scully heard voices ahead of her and began to slowly move forward, keeping herself hunched and low to the ground. She wished she had remembered to bring a pistol.
Carefully, she peeked through the underbrush. What she saw startled her, but didn't surprise her at all. It appeared she had found the 'leak' Stanton had been looking for.
Darlene was meeting with Wade and two other men in blue. She was standing, arms folded, talking to the tall man in earnest. Scully could barely hear the words. "...Pope is completely ignoring the fact that there is a whole enemy army on his left flank. He's concentrating all his energies on Jackson. He's left Porter in charge of his left, and Porter is more of an imbecile than Pope is. You have to get men on the Rebel's right or Longstreet will walk right through when the time comes."
Wade was silent for moment. "Darlene, I am not in control of this battle. I personally don't care if Pope is destroyed. Lincoln will take his command away from him, then."
Darlene laughed. "Oh, come now, Cleve! Does it matter? Lincoln will never put you in charge! He may be a baboon, but he's not that stupid!"
Wade's hand shot out, striking Darlene across the cheek with enough force to knock the woman down. Scully, startled by the swift movement of the man, jumped back, tripped on her skirts, and fell flat on her behind.
Knowing the others had heard her, she jumped up and raced back through the trees, but Wade's men caught her. Taking her arms, they lead her back to the clearing.
"Mrs. Hale," Wade said with an evil curl to his lip that Scully assumed was a smile. Darlene had risen and glared at her from beside him. "Don't you know it's dangerous to be roaming these woods while a battle is being fought nearby. Deserters would kill you, or worse, in a heartbeat."
Scully said nothing. If Wade got the information Darlene had given him to Pope, which he might or might not do from the sound of it, the Union could win this battle. They weren't supposed to. Scully suddenly knew how wrong it would be to change history; she might inadvertently make things worse. Much worse.
"I had an idea, from your friendliness with Mrs. Anderson, that you were a Unionist. Surely you don't mind that this information is being exchanged?"
Scully sighed. "Of course not," she said sarcastically. "There is nothing I would like more than to watch thousands of Confederate soldiers slaughtered." She turned her glare on Darlene. "Isn't that so, Mrs. Montgomery? I have a feeling you'd love to see those men in gray bleeding on the ground." She felt satisfaction as Darlene's expression turned even angrier.
"If you're trying to make me feel pity for those dirty farmers, you can't. The Union will win."
"Oh, I don't doubt that," Scully responded. "But at what cost? The price of blood is the most expensive price of all."
Darlene stood fuming for a while, then she turned and marched back into the trees without a word.
Scully looked at Wade, who had stood smoking his cigar, looking amused. "Mrs. Hale. I'm afraid you'll have to come with us." With a nod to his men, he turned toward the other side of the clearing. They were halfway to the trees when the gunshots rang out. Wade's men immediately let her go and pulled their pistols from their holsters. Scully dropped to the ground, and both men soon fell next to her, dead. Only one had fired a shot. Wade had made a run for the trees and had squatted down behind a fallen log. He fired his weapon in the direction of the enemy fire. They, whoever they were, shot back, but the log protected him.
Scully reached for the pistol that one of her former guards had dropped after being hit. It was cocked and ready to go. With a steady hand, she lifted the heavy weapon up and put Wade in her sights. She knew she was taking a risk, possibly changing history, but she 'felt' that this man had to die. She fired. Wade, who had not expected an attack from Scully, spun to face her as the bullet entered his left shoulder. He stood, aiming his pistol at her, fury in his eyes.
A rifle fired from the trees off to his right. Scully fell flat on the ground as Wade's gun went off at the exact moment his head exploded. Scully could swear she heard his bullet sail by overhead.
As Wade's body crumpled to the ground, Scully slowly rose to her knees, looking off to the trees with trepidation. Four men stepped out from behind the undergrowth, Stanton in the lead. Without realizing what she was doing, she jumped up and ran to him. Without hesitation, he dropped his rifled-musket and caught her in his arms.
"How did you find me?" she whispered against his shoulder.
"Larson saw you leaving camp when he went in to pick up some ammunition." He didn't have to tell her Larson had told him and he had followed without giving it a second thought. He grasped her shoulders and pulled back to look at her. "What were you thinking?"
"I saw Darlene leave. I knew she was up to something. I had to see what."
Stanton narrowed his eyes at her. "You little minx. Can't you stay out of trouble for just a little bit?"
Scully smiled. "This is war. Of course not."
"Colonel," Fraiser interrupted. "We have to get back."
Stanton nodded and stepped away from Scully. He looked at his men. "We have to find Darlene first, before she finds another Union soldier to tell her story to." He glanced down at Wade. "Why did you shoot him?" he asked Scully. "I thought you were trying to stay out of this war. Be just an observer."
Scully shrugged. "I just knew I had to. He's caused enough pain."
Stanton's brows furrowed, but he said nothing. "Let's go."
The five of them found their horses (the men had tied theirs quite close to Scully's chestnut) and rode back to camp. The heat was becoming almost unbearable, and the four cavalry men stopped for water after seeing Scully safely to the medical tent. Once there, Stanton led Scully to a quiet place behind the tent.
"Please, Dana. Promise you won't leave camp alone like that again."
Scully smiled at him. "Jason, thank you for your concern, but I can take care of myself."
"Oh! Yes! It looked like it when we found you being held by Wade and his men." His voice had a definite sarcastic edge to it.
"He wasn't going to kill me!" Scully argued. "I would have been taken to Pope's camp, and then back to Washington."
"Home."
Scully sighed. "Yes. Home." She looked at her feet, or where her feet would have been if her skirt hadn't blocked her view.
"Dana. I can't help but worry about you." He took her chin in his hand and lifted her face up, lowering his own head to look directly into her eyes. "Please, stay with Melanie."
She knew his concern for her was real, and that if he continued to worry about her, he could get distracted and killed. She knew cavalry units were rarely used in direct combat, but they were often used for reconnaissance and other dangerous jobs. She nodded. It was the best she could do for a promise.
He sighed, as if he knew she could offer him no more. Then he lowered his head that final inch and touched his lips to hers. She responded by bringing her arms up and around his neck. His own arms wrapped themselves around her, bringing her body flush against his. His tongue coaxed her lips open, and she slowly let her tongue meet and tangle with his.
How long had she waited for this? she wondered. To be kissed by this man. But then the truth hit her. She pulled away, shoving on his shoulders slightly. She backed away from him, her breathing harsh, her eyes wide. She shivered when she saw the desire in his eyes, and the confusion that overtook it at her withdrawal.
"Dana?" His voice was husky, erotic. God, she must be crazy to refuse him. But she had to.
"You're not him." Her whispered words were soft, but Stanton heard them nonetheless.
He lowered his eyes and backed away, leaving even more space between them. "I'm sorry." He looked up, and Scully flinched at the pain she saw in them. This man might be more forceful, more commanding than his 1999 counterpart, but inside he was just as sensitive as her Mulder. He nodded in acceptance, then turned to go back to his men. To find the spy Darlene. To go back to war.
Scully took a step after him. "Jason!"
He turned and gave her a sad smile. "He was a very fortunate man, your husband." Scully stopped. He thought she was talking about her 'deceased' husband. She decided to let him think that. "Very fortunate indeed." Without another word, he left her.
Scully returned to work. To the blood. The sweat. The swearing.
But her thoughts were of home, and the man waiting there for her.
*****
"Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead, Drayton!" David Glascow Farragut to his flag captain, Percival Drayton-August 1864
*****
August 30, 1862
Groveton, Virginia
Near Manassas Junction
The Confederate army was in trouble.
It was mid-afternoon on the 30th of August. Jackson and his men had held their position behind the embankment of the unfinished railroad for almost two days. But they were tiring and the Union army just wouldn't quit their assault. Ammunition ran out, and the soldiers began throwing rocks at the men in blue. Jackson finally called on Longstreet, who had been waiting patiently on Jackson's right.
Longstreet responded immediately. The Yankees were completely unprepared for the attack on their left. Longstreet bombarded the Union troops with artillery, breaking their lines three times, then sent his men in for a full attack. Pope, who had never realized Longstreet was even in the area, had been concentrating all his men on the north side of the battlefield. Longstreet's attack from the south caught him off guard, and he tried desperately to send men to meet Longstreet's forces. They were able to put up a bit of a fight, but it was no use. The 5th New York Zouaves fought back the strongest, and they suffered for it. One surviving Zouave described the battle as 'the very vortex of Hell'.
The Union was driven from the field.
Scully found herself elbow deep in blood, and never had time to wash it off. Wounded Union prisoners were brought it, and Sean did his best to see that they received adequate care, but another of the doctors wasn't so generous. He often purposely overlooked a seriously wounded man in blue to help a less seriously wounded man in gray. Scully could only shake her head in disdain and do her best to help whoever she could, no matter what the color of their uniform.
She had already determined that there was no good or bad side in this war, only good and bad people on both sides.
By late afternoon, it was determined that the south had won. Injured men coming into the camp were singing joyously, despite the pain of their wounds.
***When Johnny comes marching home again, Hurrah! Hurrah!***
***We'll give him a hearty welcome, then, Hurrah! Hurrah!***
***The men will cheer, the boys will shout!***
***The ladies they will all turn out!***
***And we'll all be gay when Johnny comes marching home!***
Scully was finally able to take a break and curiosity drove her to a rise that overlooked the battlefield. What she saw astounded her.
Thousands of men waged war in the field below her. She saw Jackson's men behind the 'safety' of the railroad embankment to her left. Almost directly below her and a little to the right were Longstreet's men, the artillery still pounding away at the slowly retreating Federals, who were beginning to scatter far across the field. The houses that made up the tiny village of Groveton became shelter for the retreating Union army. Men and horses lay dead and dying around the field. Several orderlies risked their own life to retrieve injured men who couldn't move off the field themselves. During every charge, the Rebel Yell, that frightening, high-pitched keening that had so terrified the union troops at the fist Bull Run, could be heard from Longstreet's troops. Jackson's men were quiet; they were too exhausted to make much noise. They could do little but defend themselves.
Scully knew the fighting would continue tomorrow, but the battle itself was nearly over. The army would leave soon, and head into Maryland. It would be Lee's first of two invasions of the north. Both would fail. This one would lead to Sharpsburg, where a huge battle would be fought on Antietam Creek next month. Next year, Lee would get as far as Pennsylvania, to a little town called Gettysburg. It would be the beginning of the end for the south.
Just before sunset, the wounded were loaded up into wagons, as were the supplies and everything in the medical tent. The camp was being broken down, and the army was preparing to move. Because Jackson's troops had been so tired, pursuit of Pope and his men hadn't been accomplished. The Federals had a strong, hard-fighting rear guard that enabled them to escape. The Confederates were determined to follow.
Scully was helping to pack things up, anticipating more fighting and more wounded in a different location, when she suddenly realized she couldn't go. Something inside her told her that in order to get home, she had to stay in the area. The grove of trees not far from the Anderson farm was the key. She just had to figure out how to use it.
She found Melanie helping make a seriously wounded man get as comfortable as possible on one of the ambulances. Despite her own exhaustion, the woman turned and smiled at Scully. Scully felt a lump form in her throat. Could she really leave? Melissa was here, in a way. And Pendrell. They were no longer alive in her world. But they may not survive this one either, she told herself. Could I really watch them die again?
"Melanie," Scully started. "I have to go back to your mother's."
Melanie's smile disappeared. "Why?"
Scully shrugged. "Personal reasons." She sighed. "I want to go home."
Melanie gave he a sad smile. "I understand that feeling. And I know that, despite the wonderful help you've been here, that you want to help the side you believe in. I wish I could, too. But I won't leave Sean." She came forward and hugged Scully. "I'll miss you."
Scully brought her own arms up to wrap them tightly around her. "I'll miss you, too."
Slowly, they disengaged. Melanie smiled again. "You know, I had a little sister. She died when she was only five of Scarlet Fever. She would have been about your age had she lived. I'd like to think that she would have been as brave and caring as you."
Scully felt the tears in her eyes. She had wondered if she had a counterpart in this world.
"I'll tell Sean your plans, and he can find you an escort to my mother's. But please, let me write a quick letter that you can take to her."
Scully nodded and Melanie ran off to find her husband. She was sick of the dead. Sick of the blood. Sick of this war. Despite this, she would willingly stay and help these people through the coming years. But she knew she couldn't. She knew that it was time to go home.
************************************************************
"I beg to present you as a Christmas gift the city of Savannah, with one hundred and fifty heavy guns and plenty of ammunition; also about twenty-five thousand bales of cotton." Telegram sent to Lincoln from Sherman-December 1864
*****
August 30, 1862
The Anderson Farm
Near Manassas Junction, Virginia
The sun was low in the western sky when Scully dismounted from her mare in front of Maddie's house. Maddie ran out to meet her, her arms open, a huge smile on her face. Scully welcomed her embrace.
She pulled away and turned to look at the young man who had ridden to the farm with her. He was too young to be fighting a war, not even old enough to shave yet. But Scully had seen so many boys like him die over the past couple of days. As she thanked him, she wondered if he would survive. Chances were good that, even if he did, he would be missing an arm or a leg by the end of the war. He took the reins of her horse, then turned and rode back towards the battlefield.
All was quiet on the farm; it was very obvious the battle had come nowhere near. Scully was thankful for that at least. Maddie began her usual chatter as she led Scully into the house. She learned that 'the boys', meaning Alfred and Jonah, had gone to the neighbors to procure some smoked ham they had hidden away from the troops of both armies. Scully smiled. A home cooked meal certainly sounded wonderful. But she felt too anxious, too nervous. Something was about to happen, and she wasn't sure if it was good or bad. She shook her head. Wouldn't Mulder be amazed by her 'second sight' of late? Feelings, premonitions. When had she developed a sixth sense? Or maybe she should be asking herself when she had learned how to read that sixth sense.
Scully went upstairs to change clothing, thanking Maddie with another hug and a kiss on the cheek when the older woman brought up a pitcher of hot water. Scully gave herself a sponge bath, desperately trying to rid herself of the stench of blood, sweat and death. Finally satisfied that she was as clean as she was going to get, she changed into another of Melanie's old dresses and made her way downstairs. Alfred, Jonah and Caleb were there, sitting at the table and talking quietly among themselves when she came down. They quieted when she entered the room, and Maddie turned worried eyes on her.
Caleb stood, his old body hunched, his face wrinkled, but his eyes bright. Scully figured he must be near 100. That was a great age in her time. In the 1800's, it was unbelievable. "Mizz Hale," he said. "We've been talking. We think it's time you went home."
"That's why I came back here instead of going with Melanie. This is closer to Washington."
"Yes'm. It is," Caleb nodded. "But that ain't what I'm talking about. I'm talking about your real home."
Scully stood, speechless. She looked at Maddie, who wouldn't meet her eyes. "What...what are you talking about?"
"You don't belong here, Mizz Hale," Alfred said. "Caleb. He's seen people like you before. Now, we wouldn't normally believe in something so...silly. But we got to thinkin', and we think that maybe he's right."
"About what?" Scully was getting very nervous.
"When were you born, Mizz Hale?" Jonah asked.
Scully did the math quickly in her head. "1827."
Jonah shook his head. "No, Ma'am. When were you really born?"
Scully breathed in deeply. "How did you know?" she asked without giving an answer to the question asked.
Caleb, still standing, his dark eyes flashing, smiled. "I've seen people like you before. People from the future. I even tried to help one get back home, but he died before he could."
"How?!" Scully was surprised at how desperate her voice sounded. "How do I get home?"
Caleb sat down again. "You need to find the place you arrived. Then you need to think about home, about the people waiting for you there." He smiled brightly again. "And a few kind words to God wouldn't hurt."
Scully shook her head. "That's it? No magic spells? No conjuring of smoke? No lightning flashes?"
"Lightning is how you arrive, but you need an even greater power to get home."
"God?"
"Our good Lord may be that power, yes. But it will be your desire to get home that will convince Him to send you back."
"There's no place like home?" Scully mumbled, not quite sure about Caleb's answer. It wasn't that she didn't believe in God. It simply sounded too easy. "What's the catch?"
"Catch?" Caleb looked at the others in the room. They all shrugged, not knowing what she meant either.
"Nevermind." Scully brought a hand out to brace herself against the wall, suddenly feeling faint. "What if I wanted to stay? What if, knowing the future as I do, I want to stay and try to change things?"
Caleb's eyes became serious. "Others in your situation have tried," he said softly. "They never return." He paused. "I always believed that they were brought here for a purpose, and once that purpose is fulfilled, they want to go home. If they don't listen to that 'call', they get themselves in trouble. They most likely died." He looked at her intently. "You have a strong desire to go back now, don't you? You musta already done what you were meant to."
"What?" Scully asked. She got another shrug as an answer.
Scully's head was beginning to ache. "When do I do this?"
Caleb stood again. "I think now would be as good a time as any." He walked up to her. "Hey! You never answered our question. When were you born?"
Scully swallowed. "1964."
"Wow. You gotta 'nother 100 years before you even get born?" Caleb laughed. "I bet you know a lot about what's gonna happen in the years to come, don'cha?"
Scully nodded, but said nothing.
"Too bad we'll never know," Caleb finished, and Scully sighed in relief. He wasn't going to ask her anything she would be afraid to answer.
************************************************************
"With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and a lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations." A. Lincoln-March 1865
*****
August 30, 1862
Near Manassas Junction, Virginia
The sun was sitting low on the horizon when Scully and Jonah walked out to the tree grove. She had quickly said her good-byes to Maddie, who had had tears in her eyes, Alfred and Caleb. Then she had let Jonah, who carried a musket, accompany her not far from where Alfred had found her more than a week earlier. It was still very hot, and the sound of cannon-fire could still be heard far in the distance. Scully knew they would go silent after dusk. And they would probably continue elsewhere tomorrow.
When they reached the grove, Scully's eyes automatically searched the ground under the trees. In the faint light, she spotted the glimmer of metal and rushed toward it. Pushing away some leaves, she picked the object up. And started to laugh. It was her cell-phone. The 'low battery' light was faintly blinking, and nothing happened when she pressed the 'on' button. Her laughter grew louder, almost hysterical, and tears formed in her eyes. She looked off to the side and saw her gun right at the foot of the tree. She had scoured this area for days after her arrival and found nothing. Now suddenly, in near dark, she found these. She looked at Jonah, who was watching her with an unreadable expression. She lifted the phone up. "Home," she said simply.
A branch snapped off to her left, and Jonah immediately raised his weapon to his shoulder. Scully quickly reached down and scooped up her own gun. A dark shape appeared, the low sun giving his face a red cast.
"Jason!"
"What are you doing, Jonah?" Stanton asked.
Jonah, who had lowered the musket upon recognizing Stanton, said, "Mizz Hale wants to go home. I'm making sure she gets there safely."
"Here? In the middle of a grove of trees?" Stanton's voice was incredulous.
"It's a long story, Jason," Scully said softly. She looked at Jonah, who gave her a nod and turned away to go back to the farm. She turned to Stanton. "What are you doing here?"
"Melanie told me you had gone back to her mother's." He stepped closer. "Do you want to tell me why you are standing in the middle of the countryside at sunset with Jonah?" he glanced down at the gun in her hand. "And armed?"
"Didn't anyone tell you there's a war going on?" Scully smiled. When he didn't smile back, she sighed. "I can't tell you much more than this: I'm not from this time. I'm from the future."
The silence after this statement was deafening.
"Jason? No smart remark or joke? No...anything?"
"What do you want me to say?" His voice was strained. "That I believe you?"
She smiled sadly. "Yeah. I guess I did expect you to believe me. As crazy as it sounds, Mulder would have believed me."
"Mulder?"
She hesitated. "The man I know you as in my time. The reason I can't stay here in yours."
"Me? In your time?"
"Yes."
"Is he who you were talking about earlier, when you said..." He didn't go on.
"'You're not him?'" she finished. "Yes." She shook her head. "You are him, but you aren't. It's so confusing! All I know is that he needs me. And I have to go back."
"You love him?"
Scully nodded, trying desperately to swallow the frog that had suddenly appeared in her throat. She did. She loved Mulder!
"Well, well, well," a low voice said off to Scully's left. She turned her head, startled. Stanton, too, was caught off guard. "Jason, my love. Please put down the rifle." Darlene Montgomery stood there, a pistol in her hand. It was aimed at Scully.
"Darlene!" Stanton's voice was harsh.
"Obviously, you never caught her," Scully said. She couldn't help but smile at the very Mulder-like, exasperated look Stanton gave her.
"Do shut your mouth, Mrs. Hale," Darlene purred.
Scully had no intention of obliging her. "Actually, it's Scully. Dana Scully. And I'm not, nor have I ever been, married." She looked at an astonished Stanton. She shrugged. "Where I come from, unmarried women are quite common. They have careers, own land, vote. They've even served in combat in the armed forces. In fact," she continued, as she carefully grasped her skirt in her left hand and rearranged her grip on the weapon she held hidden behind her skirts in her right. "My job is in defense of the great and wonderful United States of America. All fifty of them!" With a well-trained, but slightly rusty move, she spun to her left and brought her right foot up in a roundhouse kick that connected with Darlene's pistol and sent it flying through the air. Smoothly, she brought her weapon up and pointed it
directly at Darlene's shocked face.
Stanton was obviously just as shocked, but not so much that he didn't remember to retrieve Darlene's gun from the ground. Then he looked at Scully, a slight smile on his face. "Fifty?"
"Ooops," Scully said, but she really wasn't sorry to let that slip.
Scully kept her gun on Darlene as Stanton tied the spy's hands behind her back with a leather strap. "Do you know what they do to spies, Darlene?" he whispered menacingly to the dark-haired woman. "I certainly won't argue when they decide to stand you up against a wall and shoot you." Darlene looked dazed and didn't respond.
Scully looked to the west and saw that the sun had nearly disappeared behind the horizon. It was time to go.
"Jason," she said. "Why don't you take Mrs. Montgomery back to your men; I'm sure they must be around somewhere close."
"And leave you here?" Stanton asked, his voice hard. "I don't think so, Dana."
"This is where I need to be, Jason. Please. Leave."
Leaving Darlene tied and still in a daze, he walked up to Scully, grabbed her by the shoulders, and kissed her. Hard.
"Does this Mulder kiss you like that?" he demanded, when he pulled away.
Scully found it hard to catch her breath. "No," she whispered.
"No?"
"He's never kissed me at all."
"Never?!" Stanton was astounded.
"Not really," Scully told him, a smile playing on her lips. 'But I intend to change that if I ever get home,' she thought to herself.
Stanton shook his head. "Then stay," he whispered.
Scully felt the tears come. She swallowed hard. "I can't," she moaned. "I don't belong here." She blinked rapidly and looked down. "Please, Jason. Let me go."
A chorus of shouts and gunfire distracted them. Stanton's men, who had indeed been keeping watch a short distance away had run into a small unit of Federal cavalry. A small skirmish began on the edge of the treeline. Stanton instinctively turned toward them, but was stopped by a familiar voice.
"Don't move, Stanton." He had come from behind them, using the sounds of the battle to hide his approach.
"Rollins." Stanton's voice was flat, empty of any emotion.
"All we want is Mrs. Montgomery, then we'll leave you be. Mrs. Hale can come with us as well, if she so chooses." He looked weary. Dirt streaked his face and his uniform was no longer spotless. He showed no signs of the injury that Stanton had inflicted days earlier.
"Mrs. Montgomery is under arrest for espionage, General. You can't take her anywhere." Stanton lifted his arms and casually gestured around him. "How will you get back to your men? You are in enemy territory now."
Darlene, who had not moved a muscle, or so Scully thought, since Stanton had tied her up, suddenly lunged forward, her hands free and a knife in her grip. She grabbed the closest person to her, Scully, and held the knife to her throat. Stanton drew his pistol, despite Rollins' warnings to hold still.
"Don't do it, Jason," Darlene said, her voice high pitched and desperate. "Drop the gun, or I swear I'll slit her throat from ear to ear."
Scully, who had admittedly been caught off guard, could not find any leverage, and her struggles were useless. But Stanton hadn't dropped his gun. Instead, he met her eyes with his own. She stilled her movements. With no words spoken between them, Scully knew exactly what he was telling her. At his slight nod, Scully lunged back, away from the knife, and then sideways. Just as her upper body cleared Darlene's, Stanton fired his gun. His aim was perfect.
The shot echoed in the coming night, then all was silent. Even the skirmish had ended in the distance. Scully stood with both Stanton and Rollins, looking at the body that had once been Darlene Montgomery. "Well," Stanton drawled. "I guess you can have her now."
Rollins glared at him, but there was no hatred in the look. "I was only planning on arresting her anyway."
"For what?" Scully asked.
Rollins sighed. "Spying. She was playing both sides."
Horses could be heard now, crashing through the underbrush towards them. "Colonel?" It was Byers/Bowers.
"Get out of here, Rollins," Stanton hissed. "You were never here!"
Rollins wasn't about to argue. With one last glance at Scully, he turned and ran off through the trees.
Stanton turned to Scully. His eyes held a question. One Scully couldn't answer.
"Go," she said softly.
He nodded, then leaned down, taking her lips once more with his. Then he backed away. "Don't forget me."
"As if I could."
"Sir!" Stanton's men had ridden up to them. "We have to get back, sir," Bowers said. He was leading the roan.
Stanton took the reins from him and mounted. Then he looked down at her. "Fifty?"
Scully nodded.
"Is one of them Virginia?"
She hesitated, then nodded again.
With a smile, Stanton turned his horse and rode away, his now confused men following.
Scully watched them until they disappeared in the growing darkness. Then, she silently fell to her knees.
She looked up at the dark blue sky, watching the first stars of the evening appear. Then, quietly, she began to pray.
*****
"Thank God I have lived to see this. It seems to me that I have been dreaming a horrid dream for four years, and now the nightmare is gone." A. Lincoln-April 1865
*****
August 30, 1999
Manassas National Battlefield Park
The sun had set, but there was still tremendous activity in the camp. Cookfires and small bonfires burned brightly in the darkness, the men surrounding them laughing, singing, playing cards and telling stories. Their shadows danced on the white canvas sides of their tents. A small group of horses stood nearby, tails moving in a gentle rhythm as they swept away mosquitoes. A few women walked about, their skirts swaying as they moved. They smiled and flirted with the men in gray. And the men in blue.
Mulder walked through the camp, fascinated despite himself. He had avoided the Park for the last two days because of the re-enactment's going on. It was the 137th Anniversary of the Second Manassas, and hundreds of people had turned out. Dressed in authentic uniforms and clothing, these men and women lived for the days when they could come and see their fellow Civil War buffs and pretend, for a while at least, that it was really 1862. He had hoped that, seeing as the battle had officially ended on the 30th, these people would be gone. But they were in no hurry to break camp.
The F.B.I. and the local sheriff's department had not given up on Scully, but they had begun to focus on other cases now. Mulder hadn't. He had come here every day, until the re-enactment's started, and searched. He still wasn't too sure if he could believe the old caretaker, but it was better than thinking like everyone else did: That Scully was dead. Her mother, Maggie, had even come out with him once. She, too, wanted to believe the old man. But they had found nothing.
He had planned to come out this evening and sit beneath the trees, just because it made him feel closer to her. He hadn't anticipated the people. He walked among them, feeling desperately out of place in his jeans and T-shirt, wondering why these people felt the need to re-enact one of the country's worst moments. Yet, he admired them and their dedication to historical detail. You could do worse things on a weekend, he thought. Like chase aliens. Or search for your missing partner.
He had stopped to listen to a group soldiers singing a slow, moving version of "Battle Hymn of the Republic" when he saw her.
She was walking slowly down the alley between the tents, watching the men and women around her with a small smile on her face. She was dressed as many of the other women, in a long, full dress, sky blue in color. It looked more worn than those the others were wearing. Her hair was tousled, and she walked with a slow, but steady, step that betrayed her exhaustion. She stopped to watch the same group of men he had, and her smile widened. He looked at them again. Some were in blue, and some were in gray. Though the different sides stayed apart during the actual 'battle', they tended to mingle afterwards.
He looked at Scully again. She had spotted him.
With what looked to be a huge sigh, she walked up to him, not stopping until her body was only centimeters away from his. She wasn't wearing heels, he thought as she looked up at him. His mind was so numbed he couldn't think much else. She smiled suddenly, her eyes glowing in the firelight. She reached up between them and placed her hand on his cheek, gently tracing his lower lip with her thumb. "Hi," she whispered.
Her touch, as it usually did, sent his nerve endings aflame. With a groan, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against him. She buried her head in his shoulder and held onto him just as tightly. He felt her body began to shake, and didn't know whether it was from laughter or tears. Probably both. Finally, he grasped her shoulders and pushed her away, just far enough for him to see her face.
"Where have you been?!"
She was indeed laughing, but there were tears in her eyes. "It's a very long story."
"I've got time, believe me." His eyes widened when she giggled at his statement. "That's where you've been, isn't it? Through time?"
Her own eyes widened. "I don't know why I'm surprised," she said. "I should have known you would know what happened to me. Even when I'm not sure of it myself."
"You've been missing for almost two weeks, Scully. People think you’re dead." He took a deep breath. "Now, I know what I was told. But I want to hear it from you. Where were you?"
"What were you told?" she whispered.
"That you had gone back in time." His voice sounded tentative, as if he was afraid she'd laugh at this statement.
She didn't laugh. Instead, she simply smiled again. "I suppose we'll have to make up some silly story to tell everyone about where I've been, because you are the only one who'll believe the truth."
Mulder stood there, astounded. The he smiled back at her. "Then the old man was right?"
Scully shrugged. "I suppose I could say that it was a dream..."
"Don't you dare!" Mulder interrupted her.
"Mulder."
"Yes."
"As much as I love standing here watching these men in blue and gray relaxing TOGETHER, I really want to go home." She took his hand and started leading him in the general direction of the parking lot. "I'll call Mom tonight, but we can wait and tell everyone else tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to take a nice, long bath, eat a great big meal and fall asleep in front of the TV." She turned to look at him. "And I'd greatly appreciate it if you joined me."
"Even for the bath?" Mulder asked teasingly.
Scully let go of his hand and gave him a wicked smile. "Especially for the bath." With that, she turned and headed for home.
Mulder wasn't far behind her.
************************************************************
"With an unceasing admiration of your constancy and devotion to your Country, and a grateful remembrance of your kind and generous consideration of myself, I bid you all an affectionate farewell." From Lee's final orders to the Army
of Northern Virginia-April 1865
*****
Scully's Apartment
Two Weeks Later
Scully's disappearance was still causing people to shake their heads. Apparently, the lightning strike had caused her to fall and hit her head, causing temporary amnesia. She had wandered, confused, until some Civil War re-enactors had found her. Feeling the need to keep her real-but-as-of-yet-forgotten ID a secret, she had lied to them and told them she too was in Virginia for the re-enactments. They took her in without question. On the evening of the 30th, her memory had returned and Mulder found her among the other campers.
It was a completely unbelievable story, but seeing as it came from Mrs. Spooky, everyone believed it; strange things always seemed to happen to the Spooky family.
Only Mulder knew what had really happened.
The Bureau had given her a two week leave from her duties, in order to make sure she recovered from her head injury. She had taken the break without complaint. While Mulder continued on in her absence (though he called to check on her more than once every day) she did research. She searched the old libraries and museums scattered throughout Virginia, the National Museum in D.C., and the Internet. She found in these records many of the people she had met in 1862.
Neither Stuart nor Jackson would survive the war. Jackson was accidentally shot by his own troops at Chancellorsville in May 1863, and Stuart would be killed a year later at Spotsylvania. After his embarrassing loss at Second Manassas, Pope's command of the Union army was taken away, leaving McClellan in charge once again. She found mention of a General Wade, who was supposedly killed during the battle at Second Manassas, and his son, who had survived the war to become a New York politician. She found nothing on Madeline Anderson, or her family, but that was really no surprise. She did, after a long search, find information on two others she had met.
General William Rollins survived. The widower remarried in 1866 and settled down just north of the capital, raising three children. Scully could find no pictures of him before, during or after the war. She wondered if any of his descendants would marry a Skinner.
Colonel Jason Stanton did not survive. He was wounded at Gettysburg and taken prisoner. He died two weeks later of infection at Old Capital Prison in D.C. Scully had cried when she read this. She wondered, for a bit, if she could have changed Stanton's fate had she stayed with him. But she knew she most likely wouldn't have changed anything, even if she somehow knew what that fate was to be.
Though depressed by this news, Scully was happier now than she had ever been before. After all, her visit to the past had made her present quite wonderful. It had woken her up in a way. It had taught her to open up, at least around the people she cared about. It had made her realize that life was far too precious to wait for what you wanted; you had to go out and get it. Now, here she was, standing in her kitchen making an omelet, wearing nothing but Mulder's shirt.
Ah, yes. The past two weeks since her return had definitely been interesting.
She heard him come up behind her just as she flipped the omelet on the plate next to the stove. She had already eaten when he had arrived at her apartment, tired and stressed after a day of rushing to complete "paperwork from Hell" before the weekend. She had offered to make him dinner, but before she could even ask what he wanted, he had started to strip. By the time he got his shirt off and started working on his belt buckle, she had forgotten what she was asking. That had been well over an hour ago.
Strong, bare arms encircled her from behind and she leaned her head a little to the left, giving him access to her neck. He took the invitation and gave her a wet, open-mouthed kiss where her neck met her shoulder. She shivered and felt a sudden tightening between her legs. How was she going to work with him now? she wondered. Monday was the day she was due back. If she reacted this strongly... 'Oh, who are you fooling, Dana? You've always reacted this strongly to him. You've just managed to keep it under control so he didn't know. You'll just have to keep doing that so no one else knows.' She was not going to risk her partnership with Mulder just because they had become lovers. She was sure he felt the same way.
"Hmmm. Smells good," Mulder drawled, his voice reminding her of another one, similar but different.
"I figured you'd be hungry. Hope you don't mind an omelet."
"Omelet? I was talking about you." He kissed her neck again.
She laughed and pulled away from him, turning and handing him the plate. "Eat. You need to keep your strength up. It's going to be a long weekend."
"Promise?"
She laughed again and moved to sit down at the table. He sat opposite her, wearing nothing but a pair of unbuttoned jeans, and dug into the omelet with enthusiasm. She watched him eat for a while. "You know, of you keep eating my food like that, you're not going to stay thin like you are now."
Mulder didn't respond, and she knew it was doubtful that with his metabolism and energy level he would ever have to worry about gaining weight. She, on the other hand, had to work at staying slim. Her visit to the past had helped her loose quite a bit of weight, but she was quickly gaining it back.
Thinking of her excursion from two weeks ago, Scully decided to bring up the subject. Mulder hadn't asked her much about the experience, but she sensed that he was anxious to hear about it. She had told him bits and pieces, but nothing too elaborate. Now, she felt she needed to talk to him about it.
"I'm thinking it was Wade."
Mulder looked up from his meal. "Huh?"
"Why I was sent back." Her voice was steady, but soft. "I think it was to help kill Wade. I think that if he had lived, something horrible would have happened."
Mulder's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't say a word. He didn't have to.
"I mean, something more horrible than the war itself," she explained.
Mulder finished cleaning off his plate and sat back in the chair. "Was he really that horrible a man?"
She smiled slightly. "I think so, yes. Everyone I met either feared him, hated him, or both."
Mulder nodded. "And you said it was after this Stanton brought you back to the camp afterward that you felt a strong desire to go home. Before that, you had been enjoying yourself too much."
"Well, I wouldn't say I was enjoying myself," Scully argued, remembering the blood. The screams. "But, yes. I wasn't as anxious to get home while Wade was alive."
She looked at Mulder, searching his face. She had finally told him just a couple of days ago that Stanton had looked like him. He had looked worried, then he had demanded if that was why she was sleeping with him now. She had admitted that her attraction to Jason had been a catalyst, but that she had wanted Jason only because he was, in her mind, Mulder. And she had wanted Mulder for years.
He had accepted her admission without any surprise, as if he had been convinced it was inevitable they would end up lovers. His confidence had irked her somewhat, but only until he had told her, later that night, about his own experience aboard the 'Queen Anne'. Scully remembered her reaction to his claims after they had fished him out of the sea. She felt slightly ashamed.
"He died," she whispered.
"Who?"
"Stanton."
"Well of course, he died, Scully. It was over a hundred years ago that he lived."
She shook her head. "No! I mean he died during the war. A little less than a year after I knew him."
Mulder looked at her, his eyes challenging. "Do you expect me to mourn him?"
"No." She sighed. "I just find it sad. That he died fighting a war I basically told him couldn't be won."
"How did you tell him?"
"I told him there was still a United States and that Virginia was still a part of it."
Mulder took a deep breath. "Maybe, even if he had known for sure, he wouldn't have stopped fighting. After all, he had men depending on him. Hell, the state of Virginia was depending on him. I think Lee knew he'd lost the war early on, too. But he kept fighting. Why?" He shrugged. "Maybe we'll never know."
Scully felt her lips twitch. "You've been reading up on the war, haven't you?"
He shrugged again. "So? I was curious. The U.S. is what it is because of that war."
Scully nodded. "Do you realize how that sounds? The United States IS? Incorrect grammar."
Mulder stared at her for a while. "You're going to lecture me on grammar, now?" He sat up in the chair. "That's how everyone says it!"
Scully held up a hand in her defense. "I know! I know! Because to us, the United States is one country. But do you realize back before the Civil War, people said, 'The United States ARE'?" She smiled. "I heard some historian say once that that was what the war did. It changed us from an 'are' to an 'is'. It made the collection of states we started as into a real country. So however horrible and violent that war was, it did, like you said, make us who we are today."
Mulder sat still for a while, staring at his empty plate. "Do you feel like you want to go back?" he finally asked. He lifted his hazel eyes to hers. They were filled with curiosity, fear and love. Scully felt her heart leap when she recognized the latter.
"Not if it means leaving you," she said softly.
He smiled, then stood. He held out his hand to her and she took it. Without a word, he led her to the bedroom.
************************************************************
"Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on
this continent a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and
dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
"Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether
that nation or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can
long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war.
We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final
resting place for those who here gave their lives that that
nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that
we should do this.
"But in a larger sense, we can not dedicate-we can not
consecrate-we can not hallow-this ground. The brave men,
living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it,
far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will
little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can
never forget what they did here. It is for us the living,
rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which
they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is
rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task
remaining before us-that from these honored dead we take
increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the
last full measure of devotion-that we here highly resolve
that these dead shall not have died in vain-that this
nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom-and
that government of the people, by the people, for the
people, shall not perish from this earth."
A. Lincoln-November 19, 1863
THE END
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