TITLE: Convergence
AUTHOR: Snark
E-MAIL: snark_911@yahoo.com


SUMMARY: When decisions are made, options and opportunities die... 
don't they?

CLASSIFICATION: A little Scully angst, a hint of MSR.
SPOILERS: This story requires knowledge of the events in
'all things.' 

RATING: PG

DISTRIBUTION: OK to forward to the Spooky's, ATXC 
newsgroup, Xemplary and Gossamer. Please ask permission 
before archiving anywhere else, please. If you already have one 
of my stories, permission is granted, but still let me know 
you are grabbing this one too.

DISCLAIMER: If you feel the need to sue, my little blue Weeble
and Officer Cartman doll are all yours.

FEEDBACK: Mail all comments to snark_911@yahoo.com.

ALL STORIES CAN BE FOUND AT AUTHOR'S HOMEPAGE: 
http://www.smartania.com/snark/index.html




-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-




"A lot, a lot, a lot..."

The words echoed in Scully's ears as her mind finally allowed 
her body to slip into deep relaxation. She was drifting outwards 
from herself, falling ever closer to sleep, but was still aware--she 
could feel the hard edge of the couch as her head rested against 
it. She could sense the not-quite smoothness of her shirt as it 
stretched across her chest with each breath.

And she felt Mulder's gentle hand on her face, brushing across 
her forehead as it guided a willful lock back home. 

His touch warmed her as much as the blanket he drew over her, 
yet she was not ungrateful for its soft folds. The blanket 
quickened her crossing into slumber, the last remains of 
consciousness processing the heat of Mulder's breath as he sat 
beside her. So warm... so warm...


 * * * * * *


Fire.

Scully jerked. She saw white flames all around her, enveloping 
her as they licked their way through her hair, her clothes, her 
mind. She frantically began beating at them, dropping to the 
ground and rolling back and forth...

No pain. She was being consumed by fire, but she could not feel 
it--no heat, no stabbing fingers of agony, nothing. Yet the flames 
were there. As she stood, they flowed over her as water, 
cascading her body's length in a bright shimmering wave.

She stepped to the side, one step, then two as she realized she 
was moving out of the flames' reach. Another step and she was 
free. She watched, curious, as the flames flickered and leapt 
within a single column of space, never reaching beyond it. 

Scully turned, trying to make sense of her surroundings. It was 
an odd sensation--she knew she must be dreaming, yet felt more 
awake than ever before. The very air seemed a living thing, 
filling her lungs at each breath with an almost liquid smoothness.

The surrounding space seemed to stretch away in all directions 
without beginning or end, a featureless expanse of silence. If she 
hadn't been able to feel solidity beneath her feet, she would have 
assumed she was floating. Only the pillar of white flame behind 
her provided any sort of reference point. 

But as her eyes adjusted, Scully saw her original impression was 
mistaken--the flames were not her only companions. Woven 
throughout the space, extending in all three dimensions, were 
glistening threads, each branching and looping around the others. 
They were white as well, but each shone and pulsated as though 
alive.

"Scully."

The word was nothing more than a whisper, but Scully felt her 
body quiver from the power of it. The air rippled around her as 
though someone had skipped a stone through it.

"Scully."

Scully searched for the speaker, but saw nothing other than the 
endless veins of whiteness.

"Who are you?" Scully asked.

"It matters not."

"What is this place, then?"

"You are at the union of all things." 

"I'm sorry?"

"You are at the center, the center of yourself. The very essence of 
the lives you lead, the place where all yet none of yourselves 
exist."

Scully tried to work through the words, but they led her nowhere. 
Oddly, she did not feel afraid at having a conversation with 
something she knew she was conjuring up out of her 
imagination. "I don't understand," she said at last. 

"Step forward and take hold of the web," the voice said.

"Why?"

"So you may see the answer."

"The answer... to what?"

"To the question. To the only question which has the power to 
bring a person to this place."

Scully trembled suddenly, as though a thousand ants with cold 
feet had scrambled across her skin. She understood now, her 
breath quickening at the prospect being presented. 

To know the answer...

Scully crossed to the web in three determined steps, reaching out 
to clasp a twisting length of silver between her hands.


 * * * * * *


"I'm gonna kill you anyway, Krycek, so you might as well tell 
me the truth!"

The words echoed all around her as the bright air disappeared. 
Gone were the column of flames and glistening web, replaced by 
absolute blackness. A snarling roar assaulted her ears as an 
extreme cold surrounded her, engulfing her as though she'd 
plunged into raging arctic waters. She could feel countless 
pinpricks on her skin, each one stripping off a portion of her and 
casting it adrift. Scully tried to scream but found only emptiness 
where her body had once been.

Yet suddenly, she was whole again. All the pieces of her self 
snapped together again as the roar faded and the blackness 
lifted...

To reveal a cold set of steel prison bars before her.

Scully wanted to stop, to back up and look around, but found she 
could do nothing. She could feel her body moving towards the 
bars, could see the inner surface of her eyelids as she blinked, but 
she was not in control--something else was directing her 
movements.

"Sign here, please," a male voice droned.

Her body came to a halt as her hands reached forward to sign a 
ruled sheet of paper. Ingraham Correctional Facility was printed 
in capital letters across the top of the page.

"Through the gate, turn right, last slot. Two minutes," the man 
stated.

The bars swung open and she felt herself pass through the 
gateway, turning to walk beside a bank of visitation slots. One 
prisoner sat opposite each visitor, a thin sheet of plexiglass 
separating them. Anger, despair, joy, hopelessness--the emotion 
present in each space rolled past her as her body moved along the 
wall. 

Reaching the last slot, Scully felt herself pull out the plastic chair 
and sit down. She watched her hands fold gently together, resting 
on the small counter in front of her. As her face turned to glance 
at the plexiglass barrier, she saw her reflection. A jagged scar ran 
from just beneath her eye down her cheek to disappear beneath 
the curve of her jaw. 

An old scar healed long ago.

Scully fought to break through, to claw past whatever held her 
frozen and touch a hand to her face. To feel the proof of an event 
which had never happened. She was held immobile, though, a 
silent hostage within her own mind. 

Her frustration was broken as a guard appeared across the glass 
from her. The guard led a man in bright yellow prison clothing to 
the opposite chair, helping the man to the chair before stepping 
away. Scully's stomach turned inside out as her eyes caught sight 
of the man's face. Oh my god...

Mulder.

Oh my god, she thought...

She could see a noticeable limp in his right leg, watching as he 
favored that side of his body as he lowered himself into the chair. 
His face was thin and pale, yet his body appeared to have more 
bulk than she could ever remember seeing. His forearms were 
corded with muscle, veins clearly visible underneath the skin as 
they disappeared under the sleeves of his shirt. Long and shaggy, 
Mulder's hair draped down his back--the one concession to its 
neatness was a thin cord tying the locks back at his shoulders.

"Hey, Scully."

"Hey, Mulder."

Scully's soul cinched even tighter with fear. She hadn't spoken, 
yet the sound of her own voice filled her ears. A little deeper, a 
slightly slower cadence, but hers. 

"So."

"Yeah."

A pause.

"You'll be here to witness tomorrow, right?"

"Of course I will, Mulder."

Moments passed, a silence drawing out between them. Scully felt 
a cold hand squeeze her heart at the pain in Mulder's gaze--my 
God, she thought, what is happening here? Scully finally heard 
her own voice break the stillness.

"I tried, Mulder."

Another pause.

"I know, Scully... I know."

More seconds slid by. Just when she felt sure she would 
suffocate from the silence, she heard the male guard's voice. 
"Two minutes," he said, stepping forward to stand near Mulder's 
chair. Scully felt herself stand, moving to the side to push the 
chair back underneath the counter. 

"Hey, Scully?" she heard Mulder say. Her body turned back, 
stepping towards him again. 

Mulder reached his hand to the partition and Scully saw her own 
hand rise up to meet it. Silently, his eyes never leaving hers, he 
traced her hand with his fingertips, drawing a slow pattern 
against the glass. She knew it was ridiculous, but she could 
almost feel the heat of his skin against hers, each motion fluid 
and lingering and heartbreaking. 

Even separated, their tears fell together.

"I know, Mulder... I know."

This time, Scully wondered which of her had spoken the words.


 * * * * * *


The room dissolved, each piece spiraling away into a black void 
as the air rushed from Scully's lungs. The darkness squeezed 
around her, wrapping its velvety nothingness against her. Can't 
breathe, her brain struggled to think--I can't breathe, I can't 
breathe...

And then she could.

Scully heard a gasping sound as she succeeded at last in drawing 
a breath. Even more satisfying, though, was realizing she was in 
control once again--*she* was the one taking those ragged 
breaths, no one else. 

She could see she was standing exactly where she had been 
before she... before whatever the hell had just happened to her 
had happened. She was at the edge of the glowing web, her hands 
grasping one of its threads tightly. It took a few seconds to coax 
her hands to unclench--she could see, and feel, where her nails 
had dug into her palms.

Releasing the web, her first step backwards almost sent her to the 
ground. For an instant, she was certain she had never walked 
before in her life--the motion was completely foreign to her. She 
managed to recover, though, and cautiously moved away from 
the web.

"Did you find that which you sought?" 

The same voice flowed around her, the air rippling like a flag in a 
summer breeze.

"I... I'm not sure. I don't know what it is I saw," Scully replied. 
"What was that place?"

"A path never walked. A path unchosen."

"But... unchosen by whom? Me?"

"Yes. Through every minute, every second of a life, decisions are 
made. Options and possibilities are sorted through, categorized 
and prioritized in an instant. Yet only one action is taken," the 
voice said, seeming to come from all around her. "But all 
possibilities can happen. All possibilities *do* happen, even 
though you do not perceive them." 

Scully shook her head slightly. "So wait a minute. Are you 
saying what I just experienced is some sort of... a kind of 
alternate dimension?"

"Yes."

"A dimension split off because of a single decision I made in the 
past."

"Yes."

Scully paused, thinking through the events of the last few 
minutes. What caused the split, she wondered. 

When her mind replayed the booming voice of Mulder she had 
initially heard, everything snapped into place. "A dimension split 
off because I chose not to shoot Mulder as he held a gun on Alex 
Krycek," Scully whispered.

"Yes. Your decision to withhold your fire began a new 
dimension at that instant," the voice replied.

"Mulder must have shot and killed him, winding up convicted for 
both Krycek's murder and the murder of his father. Just as I later 
told him would happen if he..." Scully said, drawing in a deep 
breath as she realized the weight of her statement. "My decision 
led to Mulder's death sentence. Mulder is going to die because of 
me."

"In that dimension, yes," came the rippling answer.

Mulder will die because of me, Scully thought, unable to focus 
on anything else. Even though she knew that it was not her 
Mulder, her soul could not reconcile the knowledge that another 
Mulder would die.

"I have to go back, I have to stop it," Scully said, hurrying 
forward to the web. Whatever words the voice said were lost as 
she again stretched her hands outwards and grasped a glistening 
thread.


 * * * * * *


"Somewhere... beyond the sea..."

This time, Scully was slightly more prepared for the effects of 
the web, managing to keep her fright at bay as the icy cold 
surrounded her. The sense of dislocation was just as unnerving, 
but knowing what was happening allowed her to retain her 
composure.

Within moments, the darkness faded. But instead of a prison 
room, she found herself stepping forward onto a sunny porch, the 
smell of lilacs heavy in the warm air. She saw a large backyard 
spread out before her, the lush green of the lawn stark against the 
sky's deep blue.

"Michael! Joshua! Anna!" she heard her voice call out, bright and 
strong. "Come on inside, now. It's time for dinner!"

Scully watched a flurry of activity burst forth from behind a 
small shed at the back edge of the lawn. Three small children, in 
varying degrees of disarray, came tumbling across the lawn, 
racing to be first to reach...

"Mommy!" the youngest boy yelled as he careened straight into 
her leg, nearly dislodging her from the step. The other two 
children were only a second behind, and soon she was engulfed 
in a tangle of small arms and bodies. None of the children could 
have been more than five or six years old.

"Whoa, whoa, there now," she heard herself say. "Don't knock 
me over or you won't have anyone to dish up your dessert after 
dinner."

"Yay! Is it cake-"

"Are we having ice cre-"

"Can we have dessert right now-"

Scully heard herself laugh as the storm of questions blew 
through, each child fighting to be heard over the others.

"*After* dinner, kids. No dessert until after dinner. And it's a 
surprise, so you'll just have to wait and see," her voice said, her 
arms reaching down to begin herding the children inside. "Now 
go inside and change your clothes, and don't forget to wash your 
hands!"

The children went running upstairs, the paths to their rooms 
easily traced overhead by the thundering footfalls.

Scully felt herself winding back through the house, moving 
through picture-filled hallways and comfortable-looking rooms. 
Though her other self merely glanced at the walls as they passed, 
Scully was intrigued by what could only be family portraits and 
snapshots hung throughout the home. At first, the pictures were 
all photos she recognized:  a day at the lake when she was five, a 
high-school graduation picture with her father, Christmas at her 
mother's house. 

But further along, new pictures emerged. She saw herself 
standing with a man she didn't recognize. The man was tall and 
dark, his black hair cropped close. His eyes were stunningly 
brilliant, seeming to lock her gaze whenever her other self 
glanced at the photos. Further along, she saw the man holding an 
infant here, a toddler there, wrestling with a large chocolate lab 
under the bright summer sun over there.

The man soon disappeared, though, from the framed timeline 
hung along the wall. The last few feet of photos showed her other 
self with the children as she had just seen them, but the man was 
no longer beside her.

Scully felt herself turn a corner away from the hallway, swinging 
through a small parlor-like room to emerge in the home's large 
kitchen. Glass-fronted cabinets stretched to the ceiling, each 
containing neatly arranged dishes and bakeware. Though very 
stylish and contemporary, the room was comfortable and 
welcoming, children's fingerpainting projects taped prominently 
over the designer wallpaper.

Her other self had just finished retrieving what could only be 
dessert from the oven when the phone rang. Deftly setting the 
delicious-smelling apple pie to the back of the counter, out of 
reach for any of the children who might come through, Scully 
felt herself move from the kitchen to the hallway. The phone sat 
on an ornate wooden table in the hall, its antique styling blending 
nicely with the feel of the home.

"Hello?" she heard herself say.

"Hey, Scully."

Mulder, Scully thought with relief. At least he's alive in this 
version of my life.

"Oh, hey, Mulder. How are you doing?"

"Pretty much the same as always. How... how are you doing 
today?"

There was a pause, Scully watching as she saw her arm reach 
forward to straighten a picture frame before her.

"Better, Mulder. Better," she said finally. "Thanks for asking... 
and for remembering."

"I don't think any of us will forget. Ever."

Another pause.

"How are the children doing?" Mulder asked, obviously trying to 
change the track of the conversation slightly. Scully listened as 
three small voices broke out laughing above her, one squealing 
something about 'getting all wet.' In the picture glass, Scully 
watched the reflection of herself smile slightly.

"They're doing OK now, Mulder, they really are. It took a while, 
but they've really adjusted better than any of the doctors 
predicted," she heard her voice respond. "But every once in a 
while... 

"Sometimes, I'll see Michael standing here in the hall, looking at 
the pictures quietly. I know he understands what happened, I 
know that he doesn't blame any of us, but it just... just tears my 
heart out when I see him reach out and touch the photos."

A long pause.

"It's... it's hard, isn't it, Mulder? Sometimes, remembering is 
harder than... than not remembering."

Scully felt her hand come up to her face, her fingertips lightly 
brushing away tears she had barely realized were there. She 
heard Mulder whisper something on the other end of the line.

"I'm sorry? I didn't catch that Mulder, sorry."

"I said that... that by remembering the one day of John's death-"

"We celebrate all the days of his life," Scully heard her voice 
finish. She felt herself take a deep breath, reaching to straighten 
the already perfectly straight picture again. "Thanks, Mulder. I-"

Whatever else she might have said was drowned out by the 
roaring of the children as they came running down the stairs and 
through the hallway. "I get to sit by Mommy tonight" and "No 
you don't, you sat there last night!" seemed to be the predominant 
phrases being yelled back and forth as the children passed her. 
Scully heard both her own voice and Mulder's chuckle as the 
seriousness of the conversation was broken.

"What are you doing tonight, Mulder?" her other self asked.

"I'm actually at work, finishing up a couple of reports, but it's 
nothing crucial. Why, what did you have in mind?"

"Apple pie and ice cream, actually."

"Oooh, is it that kind with the cinnamon crumbly crunchy things 
on the top?" he asked, his voice reverting to that of a six-year old 
in his anticipation.

"Of course it is. Is there any other kind?" she heard herself say.

"Not in my book," Mulder laughed. 

"Mine either. Why don't you swing by in about an hour or so? 
Give the kids and me a chance to get through dinner and the 
dishes, and then we'll have dessert out on the deck. The kids will 
love it," her voice said.

"Just the kids will love it? Not you? Wh-... why... I just don't 
know if I can make it now..." Mulder asked, overacted hurt 
clearly evident in his voice. They both laughed, each glad to hear 
the other brush away the past for now.

"You'll be here at 7:00, Mulder, and you know it."

"Yeah, I know. I couldn't pass up crunchy cinnamon things if I 
tried," Mulder finished. "I'll see you in a bit, then."

"We'll be here... oh, and Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll love it, too."

"I know. So will I. Bye."

"Bye."


 * * * * * *


The darkness engulfed Scully before her other self had even hung 
up the phone. The dizzying feeling gripped her again, her lungs 
folding inwards in a vain attempt to breathe.

But soon, the bright whiteness returned before her eyes, the 
slippery thread of the web pressing itself against her palms. This 
time, she was able to step away without stumbling, her body 
more quickly adjusting to the changes this time.

"Did you find that which you sought?" the voice again asked.

"No, I found myself in a different timeframe than the first one," 
Scully said quickly, turning again to step towards the column of 
white flames. There was still no sign of the entity to which she 
spoke. 

"Yes, a timeframe in which neither you nor he died."

"But someone else did. A man named John... my husband."

"Yes."

"Who... who was he? What changed in that time to shape such an 
outcome?" Scully asked, searching her mind for anyone in her 
memory fitting the pictures she had seen.

"That particular dimension was created shortly after you were 
assigned as Mulder's partner," the voice began to explain. "After 
your interaction with a Luther Lee Boggs, that version of 
yourself decided to relinquish your posting at the FBI, opting 
instead for a university teaching position.

"Almost immediately, you met Jonathan Kearlyn, the man who 
would become your husband. You married within a few months, 
and over the next three years, gave birth to Michael, then Anna, 
and finally Joshua.

"Shortly after Joshua's birth, you were all attending a church 
social gathering, a picnic outdoors at a riverside park. Friends 
and family were encouraged to attend, so several hundred people 
were in attendance. Mulder, with whom you'd remained friends 
after your departure, was there, pushing Anna in a swing.

"A man arrived and, without warning or reason, began firing two 
handguns into the crowd. Mulder was one of the first to take a 
bullet, though it was never known exactly who the man's real 
targets were.

"You, Michael and Joshua were slightly behind the man, fifty 
feet from him. John dove towards you, knocking you into the 
children and burying all of you beneath him. He screamed for 
you to stay down, then scrambled to his feet. The man continued 
to fire all around him, sending most people diving for cover."

"But not John," Scully whispered, the scene crystallizing in her 
mind even though she'd never seen it.

"Not John. He charged the man, hoping to knock him to the 
ground and subdue him before more were hurt. But just as John 
drew close, the man turned and fired repeatedly with both guns. 
John never even felt it," the voice whispered in reply. Scully felt 
tears on her face, but did nothing to wipe them away.

"Was the shooter apprehended? Did they catch him-" and tear his 
living heart from his chest with bare hands, she wanted to finish, 
choking back tears.

"No."

"He escaped?!"

"No, he did not escape. He was killed immediately thereafter by 
another man in attendance."

"Wh-... who..."

"Walter Skinner, with whom you'd also maintained a friendship, 
shot and killed the man with a single bullet to the head."

"Good," Scully said, slightly surprised she could feel such hatred 
on behalf of a life she'd never known. "Good." She finally 
reached to draw a hand across her eyes, wiping away the tears at 
last, relieved that justice had been served...

"Except it wasn't, was it?" she asked, the reality settling in 
around her. "Justice wasn't served in at least one other universe, 
was it? The universe in which Skinner didn't shoot the man."

"Many people's decisions affected what happened that day, not 
just yours. In some timeframes, the man did not arrive at all. In 
others, it was Mulder, not John, who died. In yet others, the man 
killed thirteen people before he was subdued," the voice said. 

"So... so, what's the point?" Scully asked.

"The point?"

"Yes, damn it!" she yelled, beginning to pace back and forth in 
her frustration. "What the hell is the point of showing me all this? 
What am I supposed to do now, how am I supposed to ever make 
another decision when I know that all possible outcomes take 
shape every time?"

Scully crossed to the web, gesturing wildly at it as she screamed 
at the empty air around her. "How many times have I killed my 
friends, my family? How many times have I killed the children 
that *I've* never known? How many?!"

She held her hands over another pulsating thread. "Did I kill 
them here? Or maybe over here, or over here," she said, moving 
from one section to the next. The voice did not answer her.

"What about right *here*?" 


 * * * * * *


The darkened cold surrounded her once again, but this time she 
was fully prepared for it. Perhaps it was the heat of her own 
anger which helped stave off the disorienting effects of the 
transition. Regardless of the reason, it seemed only a few seconds 
this time before she opened her eyes...

To see the same empty whiteness she had just left.

She went to turn her head downwards, to make sure she had truly 
grasped the web, but she found she couldn't move. Not her head, 
not her hands, not even her eyes. She could see nothing before 
her, no sign of the web or of the silently flickering column of 
flames.

In fact, the more she tried to shift her body, the more she became 
convinced she was someplace entirely removed from where she 
had been before. Someplace where she no longer had a head, or 
hands, or eyes to move.

Absolute nothingness surrounded her. 

Panic began to rise through her. How am I supposed to get back 
this time, she worried. There had always been the actions of her 
other self to signal the jump back to the web, but she somehow 
doubted a Scully would come walking up to her anytime soon in 
this place.

"There is no Scully in this place."

As the voice resonated around her, Scully would have cheerfully 
jumped out of her own skin, if she'd had any. The voice, despite 
its words, told her she was not alone in this place.

Well, good, she began to think, but was surprised to hear her 
words echo around her. "How..." she began to ask, the word 
ringing in her mind, but the voice cut her off.

"Here, in this place, only thought exists. Nothing physical 
exists."

"Well, good," she stated again. "At least here, I can rest easy, 
knowing I didn't kill countless thousands at every turn of my 
life."

"You didn't have the chance to. In this timeframe, you killed 
yourself."

That brought her up short. She had experienced many difficult 
times in her life, she knew, yet could not conceive of *any* 
version of herself ever making the decision to commit suicide.

"You didn't commit suicide."

"But you just said that in this place, I killed myself."

"You did, but not by your own hand. A decision made in this 
timeframe set events into motion which led to your death." 

"What, did I choose not to shoot someone and he shot me 
instead?" Scully said, frustrated. "Did I run towards a madman 
when I should have dived for cover?"

"You stopped for a yellow light."

"I... what?"

"The day after obtaining your driver's license, you made the 
decision to stop as a light turned from green to yellow, rather 
than pushing through it. Patiently, lawfully, you waited for the 
light to turn green. 

"A vehicle coming the other direction lost control. It crossed 
through the intersection, smashing head-on into your car. You 
were killed instantly. 

"In that moment, this universe blinked out of existence. Only this 
memory of it was left behind."

"But there's no one here to *have* a memory of it," Scully 
started to say, confused. "Whose memor-"

Scully gasped as she felt her body return to her. As though 
surfacing from a pool, she felt the nothingness flow off her 
body--she glanced down as if expecting to see it collecting 
beneath her feet. She was soon feeling nothing but joy, though, 
as she realized she actually had feet and the eyes with which to 
see them.

She realized she had returned to the whiteness of her original 
location. She dropped her hands from the web, turning to look 
behind her, and finally saw the source of the voice. She saw...

Herself.

Standing within the column of flames, somehow clearly visible 
even as the flames flicked back and forth across her, stood a 
perfect replication of herself. A mirror image in every detail, 
right down to the slightly trembling hands. 

But before Scully could even begin ask how such a thing was 
possible, the image began to shift.

The hair grew longer, then shorter, then turned blond. Her suit 
became a nun's habit, a dancer's costume, a soldier's camouflage. 
Scars appeared and disappeared as she seemed to grow both 
taller and shorter. Scully's senses nearly overloaded as the image 
shifted more and more quickly, an endless highway of lives 
unknown speeding past.

And then it was over. The image solidified in its initial form once 
more before fading from sight.

"Who... who are you?" Scully asked, awed. She glanced around, 
but the image had disappeared entirely.

"I am the you as you are now. I am the you as you saw yourself 
in the prison. I am the you with whom Mulder ate apple pie.

"I am every Dana Katherine Scully who exists across all 
universes...

"I am you."

Scully watched as everything began to melt away. The web 
seemed to recede to the edges of perception, a barely discernible 
flicker at the corners of her vision. The whiteness faded, falling 
through the spectrum as it dimmed slowly. Soon, only the white 
flames were left, flashes of light shifting before her silently.

As she began to wonder what was happening, though, Scully felt 
an explosion inside her mind. An instant of extreme pain coursed 
through her, as though her very soul were being torn apart by 
demons. 

And in that moment, she knew. 

She knew. 

Everything that had ever happened to any version of her became 
clear in that instant. She felt herself die countless deaths, 
watching as Death took her amidst a sea of violence here, the 
quietness of old age there. Children too numerous to imagine ran
to her across endless fields of green. Lovers whispered, enemies 
screamed, the dead rose to life as the living fell away.

"Through all of life, a thousand possibilities are born between 
each breath and the next," the voice said, its rippling effects 
washing away both the pain and the pleasure of lives unknown.

"And where the next breath takes you... is entirely up to you."

As the voice faded away, Scully regarded the column of flames 
before her. How strange it is, she thought, to stand near a raging 
fire but feel no heat, no currents of warm air flowing past. 

How strange it is to have seen every path of my life, yet not know 
the future. She reached a hand into the fire, watching as the 
tendrils curled against her fingertips, licking their way 
across her skin.

Where the next breath takes you...

Scully stepped into the flames, a smile crossing her face as the 
flames consumed her.


 * * * * * *


So warm... so warm...

Scully jolted awake, removing her feet from the low table as she 
sat up from the couch in one fluid motion. The blanket fell from 
her shoulders as she straightened. Glancing around, her gaze fell 
on the sparkling light of the fish tank, the tiny decorations and 
fish inside glittering in the water's brightness. Something about 
them mesmerized her. Flickering light. Flashes of whiteness. I 
dreamt of flames, she remembered suddenly... 

And I saw the past.

Scully watched the image form slowly, each piece bobbing to the 
surface of her mind. She saw the glistening web, felt its 
pulsating warmth against her hands. She watched again as her 
other self cycled through its forms, showing her the lives that 
might have been hers. 

Where the next breath takes you... is entirely up to you.

Scully stood, folding the blanket and laying it across the back of 
the couch. She moved slowly through the apartment, crossing 
over to ease Mulder's door open. She peeked around, not wanting 
to startle him if he were still awake.

But he was already fast asleep. The sheets, twisted and rumpled, 
spoke of his habit of tossing and turning before finally allowing 
sleep to take him. Cool air flowed through the room, the open 
window allowing the moon to light the room softly. Scully 
slipped forward to sit on the edge of the bed. 

She watched him sleep for a long time. Watched his hair move 
ever so slightly in the night breeze. Watched his eyelids flutter as 
dreams took shape within his mind. Watched his chest rise and 
fall with every breath he took... 

With every choice he made. 

Scully reached out, running her hand through Mulder's hair to 
smooth his windblown hair back home, and smiling as the locks 
fell right back across his forehead.

Two roads diverged in a wood, she thought, turning her hand to 
run a gentle finger down Mulder's face. And I... 

I took the one that led right here. 




* * * * * * -30- * * * STORY END * * * -30- * * * * *


AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I did not read any other 'all things' fanfic while composing 
this piece--I hope I have not completely mirrored another 
posted work. 

And obviously, I must tip my hat to Robert Frost for my ending 
lines. His incredible piece, 'The Road Not Taken,' is quoted in its 
entirety following these comments. Also, I must credit Gillian 
Anderson for giving us such an interesting and layered 
interpretation of Scully in 'all things.' 

I enjoy contemplating the existence of parallel universes, of 
worlds that pop into reality when I decide to go to Don Pablo's 
instead of McDonald's for lunch. So, when given the chance to take 
that contemplation and overlay it onto Scully's world, I simply 
could not resist.

Please contact me at snark_911@yahoo.com to discuss or 
comment on this story.

Thanks,

~Snark


========================================

The Road Not Taken
by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.


========================================