It had been a long day at work for Dana Scully. Most days seemed endlessly long now that her longtime partner, Fox Mulder, was gone. Some days it seemed like he'd only been gone for a short while and she could almost imagine him popping into the office with bagels and coffee. But the truth was, Mulder had been gone for some seven years now. And since his passing, the X-Files just hadn't been the same. Scully had gone through a series of partners and flunkies but Skinner had never been able to place her with anyone she had patience with for more than a month or two. They just didn't understand. They didn't have the history that she and Mulder had shared. It would never be the same again.
Of course, it was all rather pointless anyway. Scully had been hard pressed to believe in Mulder's aliens back then and, since he'd been gone, it had become next to impossible. She had conveniently forgotten most of what she had seen and been subjected to as a means of distancing herself from the pain of her loss. No gung-ho partner was going to convince her that aliens were taking over the world. Scully had lost even the spark of a will to believe. As she had told that writer long ago, that was more Mulder's area.
But what had suddenly made her think of her partner? It wasn't the first time she had passed a day with memories close enough to touch. It must be the time of year...a seasonal response to the loss of Mulder. Tonight was Christmas Eve but she had blocked that knowledge from her mind, probably in a vain attempt to forget. It had been Christmas Eve seven years ago that Mulder had died, or more correctly disappeared. Despite the pain of remembering she cast her mind back to a Christmas Eve several years before his passing when she had been dragged by her headstrong partner to a haunted house against her will. What a dreadful evening and yet the memory brought a wistful smile to her lips. Scully didn't smile much anymore but she used to wage a constant battle to supress her smiles when she had to deal with the wry wit of Mulder. She remembered thinking that he should have to work hard to earn one of her rare smiles.
Now, as she lay in the solitary darkness, she found sleep difficult as her head filled with images from the past. Her partner had been named Fox Mulder, though he never let anyone call him Fox. When she first learned of his disappearance that long past Christmas Eve, it had been such a shock. For weeks it was impossible to admit that he was gone. But eventually she had to accept the truth, even if some were not willing to admit he was dead. Those like Skinner, who insisted on reporting him as just missing until the years proved that hope to be a lie. The truth she continued to face was that Mulder was dead...dead as a doornail. Though why a doornail? Scully had no reason to believe a doornail was more dead than any other thing. She might as likely have said as dead as Deep Throat. Although, come to think of it, he might not be as dead as they once believed. He had, afterall, appeared to Mulder several times after his burial had been witnessed.
As Scully lay musing, her thoughts suddenly seemed to take on substance around her for there, standing before her, was a ghost from the past. But it couldn't be real. She must be dreaming - dreaming that she was lying here awake in bed seeing ghosts. Not the most rational of dreams for someone with a scientific mind but what were dreams for if not to entertain ideas that were unacceptable to a waking mind? Better to take matters head on, Scully thought and so doing, addressed the apparition. "Who are you?" The ghost replied, "Ask not who I am but who I was." Scully tried again, "Very well, who were you?" Then the ghost spoke saying, "In life I was your partner, Fox Mulder. Well...just Mulder. I even made my parents call me Mulder."
Scully stared in wonder at the ghost who certainly did sound like her old partner. He was covered in chains from head to toe as if bound by some terrible burden that he had carried from life into death. But it couldn't be Mulder...her partner was dead. "Bah. Humbug!" The ghost moved closer to her bedside and said, "Why do you doubt your senses, Dana? After all you've seen...after all you've been through."
"Oh, man," Scully groaned, raising an eyebrow, "Don't use that tired old line on me. Even I've trotted out that old standard and I won't sit here and listen to you use that 'all you've seen' line again. Seven years dead and you don't have any new material? Besides, why should I believe in you? You could be caused by something I ate at dinner. Maybe a bit of undigested tofu," Scully challenged.
"I am who I say, though I am not the agent I was. These chains I am fettered with were forged in life. I started out a believer then slowly lost my faith. I gave up and accepted a sort of defeat. Think about it, Scully. For years we made progress and slowly caught up with the Syndicate and the Cigarette Smoking Man. Then, just when things got really grim and it was clear that the aliens were taking over, we just went back to business as usual. We both had seen proof that aliens existed and that they even had some huge plan regarding the colonization of our planet and the destruction of mankind. But we just kept hacking away at run of the mill monsters. Jeez, I even had part of my brain removed by CSM and no sooner than you could say 'minimal scarring' I was back on the job! What happened to me? I'm here to warn you, Scully. Don't make the mistakes I did. Avoid the fate I am shackled with by recapturing your belief. Don't forget, you have the strength of my beliefs."
"Mulder, I believe that it's you. Maybe you're really here or maybe I'm just dreaming and you're really on a bridge between two realities. I don't know. But if you're going to hang around, why don't you sit down and take a load off? Those chains look heavy." But Mulder shook his head, "I can't...my time here in this plane of existence is limited. And also, my legs don't bend too well. But I have come to foretell so I might as well get to it. Beginning tonight at 10:13 pm, and the next two nights following at the same hour, you will be visited by three spirits. Or maybe they'll be aliens. Or possibly spirits of aliens. What I can tell you is that each night a spirit will come to you and none of your patented Scully rational explanations will get you out of this one. Remember my warnings and avoid my fate. You have to want to believe." And with that, the ghostly apparition was gone.
Scully sank back against her pillows. It had looked like Mulder, even down to the ugly tie. No set of clanking chains had been able to conceal the hideous pattern that had lurked beneath. Glancing quickly at her bedside clock she noted the glowing, digital numbers. 10:12 pm. As she stared at the clock, the 2 changed to a 3 and Scully realized she was holding her breath. Feeling silly, she exhaled just as the room filled with a blinding light. Instinctively covering her eyes, she felt a cool breeze envelope her as an eerie stillness fell. Scully dropped her hand from her face and blinked to readjust her eyes to the darkened room. But she didn't need her vision to tell her that she was not alone.
"Who are you?" Scully demanded of the interloper. "I am the spirit of whom it was foretold. I am the spirit of aliens past." Scully looked closely at the spirit. "Well, I suppose that could be true enough. You look just like the drawings of aliens that people always used to envision. Big Eyed Monsters. Aliens with nearly translucent green skin and an almond-shaped head. Definitely passe." The alien nodded a bit impatiently, "Yes...yes. But we must go. We have much to see tonight. Take my hand. We are to visit Christmas past."