Title: Reve 
Author: Abigail
Rating: PG-13
Class: Casefile, Other Character Angst, Slight MSR/UST
Summary: How can you know if what happens is accidental or
intentional? That it wouldn't already happen if no one had controlled
it?

Timeframe: Somewhere in the beginning of Season 7.

Spoilers: All Things.

Disclaimer: The characters of Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter
and 1013 productions. They aren't mine, and no infringement is
intended.

However, the characters of Brianna McLoughlin, Crystal McLoughlin,
Dameon, Chief of Police Romare, and both of the doctors are all mine
with the help of readers. So please, don't use them. It will make life
all the more easier for everyone.

Archive: Yes, please.

Acknowledgments: This one's all for me, baby!

Author's Note: I made up this Indian legend, and the Navaho words. I
would have made them real, only I couldn't find a translation. So
don't get mad or take me seriously on that part.

Another Note: I, too, have a dreamcatcher above my bed, which inspired
this whole thing. So, Dreamcatcher was quite the fitting name for this
story.

Yet Another Note: 'Rve' is 'Dream' in French. There is no word for
'Dreamcatcher' in another language. I think...

Feedback: The book of Abby says: Feedback unto others as you would
have them feedback unto you. Littlemiss_spookymulder@hotmail.com

On into the fic...

Xxxxxxx

October 8, 1999
134 Bell Lane
Vergennes, Vermont

~~~ Crystal McLoughlin peeked into her daughter's room before settling
down for the night. She watched as she slept peacefully, her small
frame rising and falling with each breath. She smiled to herself as
she went to do her nightly check on the door locks. Not that it really
needed to be done. The sparsely populated town of Vergennes took pride
in being one where door locks weren't really needed.

But she just wanted to make sure.

She moved from the front to the back door, securing both doors. When
she finally reached her room, the moon was high in the clear, dark
sky, casting shadows on the walls.

As she crawled into bed, she could have sworn she saw a man standing
in her bedroom. But she shook it off. Just her imagination running
away with her. Right?

She laid under the covers, still a little afraid, pulling the sheets
up to her chin. Then she saw the shadow again. It looked like a tall
man. And it looked like he was holding something. Something sharp.

She heard a soft thud off in the far corner of the spacious bedroom.
She bolted up, her pulse racing. She looked around the room, and then
she turned. A moment too late. The man whispered, "Kiato nay ni-oto,"
as he brought the weapon down onto her.

Her screams echoed throughout the halls, filling every room with their
horrifying noises. ~~~

Brianna McLoughlin bolted up in her bed, her pulse racing, her face
flushed. She'd had another dream. It couldn't be her mom. Not this
time. It just couldn't be. She shuddered a few times as she screamed
out,
"Mom!"

Xxxxxxx

October 10, 1999
Scully's Apartment
6:37 AM

The sound of the ringing phone lulled Mulder sharply from a sound
sleep. He opened one eye and waited for Scully to pick up the phone in
her bedroom. Moments passed and the phone continued its sharp trill as
he realized that she wasn't going to get it. He grudgingly lifted his
head off her pillow and rubbed his eyes as he reached across to the
table and picked up the cordless.

"Hello?" he said groggily, still brushing at his eyes.

"Oh, sorry, sir, I must have had the wrong number...Mulder, is that
you?"

Skinner. Mulder fell off the couch at the distinctly
constipated-sounding voice of his superior. "Skinner, is that you?"

"Mulder, this doesn't sound good..." his voice was tinged with
annoyance.

"No, Sir, they're fumigating my building, and as entertaining as the
thought was, I decided not to stay and get exterminated," Mulder said
as he tried to save face. "I'm laying on Scully's couch as we speak."

"For some stupid reason, I believe you, Agent," the voice of disbelief
sounded.

"So..." Mulder said, filling the suddenly uncomfortable silence. "What's
up..."

A click, and then another voice on the line. "Hello?" It was Scully.
As Skinner began to talk with her, Mulder hung up and tried to get out
of the quilt that he was somehow tangled in. No use. It was tangled
around his legs. If someone had looked in the window, they would
wonder how a grown man had managed to become tangled in a thick quilt.

Just as he had finally figured out how he was going to approach this
getting out of the blanket business, he heard a loud click and Scully
walked out in the middle of tying her white bathrobe. She stared at
Mulder, and a look of something between amusement and incredulity
crossed her face.

"Mulder," she said slowly as he continued his futile struggle, "That
was Skinner..."

"I know," he growled up at her. "I got an earful for being at your
apartment this early in the morning." He ran a hand through his hair
to try and tame the brown locks spiking out in every imaginable
direction.

"Mulder..." Her voice held a warning tone. "What did you tell him?" she
dared to ask.

"I told him we made mad, passionate love last night and that he
couldn't stop us from doing it again." He kicked off the covers and
gave himself the proverbial pat on the back.

Scully chose to ignore him. "Well, we have to get going. Skinner says
he's got a real X-file for us."

He stood up, forgetting that he was only in boxers. She looked him up
and down for a moment and raised an eyebrow questioningly. He just
pushed past her and went for his overnight bag. As he began pulling
out his favourite pair of well-worn jeans, he asked, "So, what's this
X-file all about? Scully?"

She stayed turned away from him but answered, "Something about a
murder."

"Oh. Okay, real X-file there," he muttered to himself as he slipped
into his pants. "Real X-file..."

Xxxxxxx

Skinner's Office
7:42 am

"This is a real X-file," Skinner said as the two agents sat down in
front of his desk.

"What are the details of the case, Sir?" Mulder asked as he adjusted
his tie. He'd hurried to get ready as Scully had stood outside of her
bedroom door, tapping out 'Hurry up' with her foot into the decorative
rug that had been placed there. He'd barely had time to get his tie on
before she ushered him out the door.

"Crystal McLoughlin, from Vergennes, Vermont, was murdered in her home
last night by an unknown assailant. Her daughter, Brianna, claims to
have witnessed the murder..."

Scully raised an eyebrow. "What exactly makes this an X-file, Sir?"

His look told her that she had interrupted the most important detail.
"Like I said, she claims to have seen the killing. Before it took
place. I've set up an immediate flight for the two of you. You need to
get up there right away."

Xxxxxxx

134 Bell Lane
Vergennes, Vermont
1:45 PM

Mulder and Scully flashed their badges and cautiously slid under the
yellow tape, entering the home. Police were everywhere, aspiring
investigators taking pictures of everything in sight, trying to gather
some clue, some evidence, no matter how minuscule.

It wasn't everyday someone in the small town of Vergennes, Vermont was
murdered.

A man walked up to them, displaying his official chief of police
badge. He was short and stocky with a balding spot on the very top of
his head. He introduced himself as Chief of Police Romare. He didn't
talk for a moment, and his gaze lingered on Scully.

Mulder cleared his throat loudly and asked what had happened here.

The man's gaze slowly left Scully, and he turned to Mulder. "Well, the
woman was murdered. Simple, easy fact. Body upstairs in the bedroom,
blood everywhere. A typical murder."

Scully finished. "But not a typical case..." she trailed off, hoping
that the chief would reprise them of the situation.

He answered, "No, it's not. The daughter claims to have dreamed of
this the night before it happened. You see, these Indian people are
some queer folk. We try to stay out of their business. I really doubt
it's true, but we thought we'd better bring in the FBI, just in case
there was anything weird going on. They told us you two would know
what to do."

Mulder and Scully exchanged a quick look. Then he nodded. "Can I look
upstairs?"

"Yeah. Come with me."

Mulder walked away with the chief, leaving Scully to find something
worthwhile to do.

Then she spotted a young girl, maybe 11 or 12, sitting on the pale
white couch, her head in her dark hands.

Scully went to the kitchen and retrieved a glass of water. Then she
sat down next to the girl on the sofa.

"Would you like some water?"

The girl looked up and gave her a weak smile before taking the cup and
drinking a tiny sip. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Scully answered. "So, are you Brianna?"

"Yeah," she said, her dark eyes dull and pained. She looked to be of
American Indian origin, with dark skin and short, mid shoulder-length
black hair.

No wonder she had seen a few Indian people praying outside the home.

Scully asked the inevitable question. "I'm Dana. I heard that you saw
the murder before it happened. Do you think you could explain that to
me?"

Brianna looked down for a moment. "I don't know how exactly to explain
it. I've been dreaming of things like this my whole life. I just see
it in a dream, and soon, it just happens. I never see anything good.
It's always bad. And I can never stop it."

Suddenly, Mulder appeared next to them. "It's pretty gruesome up there
Scully. You might want to take a look."

"Okay. Brianna, do you think you could talk to my partner, Mulder,
now?" Scully asked as she stood.

"Sure," Brianna answered with monotony. "You want to sit down?"

Mulder sat next to her. "Brianna, I walked past your room, and I
noticed you had a dreamcatcher above your bed."

She smiled this time, a real smile. "Yeah, it doesn't work
obviously...You know how some people say that a dream is the answer to a
question that has not yet been asked?"

He nodded and waited for her to clarify.

She continued, "In my experiences, I've learned that a dream is merely
a question to the answer that fate has already bestowed upon us. No
matter the question, the answer will always remain the same."

"You have insight for someone so young."

"Well, I've been through so much. My dad was murdered when I was 7. I
saw that too. Sometimes I just wish I could be quio-te . That means
free in Navaho."

Mulder asked, "So you know the language."

"Yes. My grandfather was a chief. I try to stay as true to the ways of
my people as I can. In fact, after my father's murder my mother took
me to a nearby reservation, where the village medicine man tried to
rid me of my dreams using conventional Indian treatments. He couldn't.
He said I was a shama-nee."

"What's a shama-nee?"

Before she could answer, a young Indian man gripped her arm and spoke
to her in angry Navaho. She spoke back in a pleading voice. Then she
nodded submissively, got up and walked away with only a quick backward
glance at the confused agent.

The Indian man leaned in close to Mulder and spoke in slow English.
"You must leave here. The prophecy of the shama-nee will be fulfilled.
It is our way. It is the only way." With that said, he turned and
stalked away.

Mulder watched Brianna from across the room as she spoke with Chief
Romare for a minute. She said something, and after a time of obvious
thought he nodded to her.

The young Indian appeared next to her and spoke in their native
tongue. She nodded, head bowed, and they left the house together.

Mulder stood up and went to the chief. "Where are they going? Why did
you let them go?"

The man put his hands, palm out, in front of his chest. "Calm down
there, Tiger. That's her uncle. Since both of her parents are now
dead, he's taking her to a reservation in Long Island to stay for
now."

Mulder gave him an exasperated look. "We're going to need to contact
her again. Can you give me a specific place where she's staying?"

Grumbling the whole time, the man pulled out a piece of paper and
scribbled onto it. Without looking at Mulder, he handed him the paper.
When he turned to leave, Mulder could have sworn he muttered something
about "Damn FBI."

Just then Scully appeared. "Mulder, there's nothing too strange about
this murder. There are no clues for this murder. Just a hacked up body
and blood everywhere. I can do an autopsy, if you want..."

Mulder waved a hand. "No Scully. I don't think we're going to need an
autopsy to figure this out. There's definitely something going on with
this girl and her Indian beliefs. I think that's where we'll find our
answers. But now, we need to get to a laptop."

"Why, Mulder?"

He just spoke one word. "Shama-nee."

Xxxxxxx

Vergennes Hotel 
Suite #6
8:25 PM

Mulder pored over the book labeled "Navaho Beliefs." He'd found it in
the town library after doing some research on the Internet. He looked
through every page, taking in the details of the culture.

He drew in a sharp breath when he reached a page titled "Legend of the
Shama-nee." After looking at it closely, he called to Scully.

She came through the doors adjoining their rooms and sat down next to
him on the bed. "What?"

"Take a look. Shama-nee." He held the book out proudly for her to see.

"Please, explain. I hear a big theory coming up."

He opened the book to the page with a picture of a young girl
sleeping, a dream of a murder in a box above her. "A shama-nee is a
girl who dreams of future murders and deaths. In the Navaho culture,
the shama-nee is thought to cause the murders and deaths. To them, she
is a channel of fate. When she is old enough, she has two choices:
Live and forever cause death. Die a cruel death, and with one final
dream give someone what they wish for."

"But Mulder," she sighed. "It's just a legend."

Mulder sighed back. "But Scully, it's just like Brianna. The dreams
coming true. She even told me that when she was younger, a medicine
man told her she was a shama-nee. Her uncle told me that the prophecy
of the shama-nee would be fulfilled."

"Mulder, there has to be a rational explanation for all of this," she
said.

"Scully, it's right here, black and white."

"Mulder, it's a book of legends. Legends are myths, not facts."

Mulder leaned back and lay on the pillows. "Maybe some, Scully. But
not this one. Not this one."

She in turn stood and gave a little stretch. "Well, I'm going to bed.
If you can show me physical evidence that what's you're saying is
true, maybe I'll agree with you. But not before then." She turned and
went back to her own room.

Mulder watched as the door closed behind her, and when she was gone,
he picked up Brianna's file, something that he had managed to secure
before leaving the house. He looked at the picture of Brianna, sitting
in a flower garden. Even at ten years old worry lines creased her
forehead and what seemed to be a permanent frown was on her face.

He reached over into his briefcase and pulled out a pair of scissors.
With a few snips he cut out the child's face. He frowned as he picked
up the book and opened it to the black and white illustration of the
dreaming shama-nee. With a little more in-depth searching into the
briefcase he recovered a piece of tape. He was intent on the task
before him as he folded the tape carefully and put it on the back of
the picture fragment. He reached down and taped the picture to the
face of the shama-nee. Then he stared down at the picture and tried to
think of a way to convince Scully...

Xxxxxxx

Long Island Indian Reservation
8:25 PM

~~~ They walked into the dark passage, both unaware that someone was
watching. Scully was alert, her blue eyes scanning everything in
sight.

But she did not see him.

Mulder stood in front of her, his gun poised and ready. "Scully, be
careful."

But he did not see him.

The man rose from the shadows and... ~~~

Brianna bolted up in her bed. She began breathing hard as she
whispered over and over again, "No, no, no, no..."

Xxxxxxx

October 11
Long Island Indian Reservation
10:45 AM 

Scully sighed inwardly as she looked at the picture Mulder had
produced the night before. She pulled Brianna's face off of the
illustration and looked over at Mulder.

"Mulder, how do you know that she's what you say?"

He looked back at her. "Ever heard of a hunch, Scully?"

"Yes," she answered. "I've heard a lot of hunches from you." She
sounded resigned and she knew it.

"Scully...you sound as if I'm going to suggest alien involvement."

"No, but I do know that nothing I say will change what you think," she
said quietly.

"Just wait, Scully," he said. "I'll prove it to you. And if I don't,
something will."

They sat in silence for a few minutes until Mulder pointed off to the
left. "Long Island Indian Reservation: Preservation of our American
Indian Navaho Culture," he read the large wooden sign. "I don't think
they sell too many bumper stickers."

"What do you expect to find here, Mulder?" Scully asked, disregarding
his remark.

"I don't know yet," he said as they pulled into the metal gates.

Mulder yawned. They'd had to get up early to get there. He hoped that
Brianna would give them something to help him prove that what he
believed was true.

Scully wanted to find good, hard scientific evidence that would, if it
were the case, disprove Mulder's theory of the shama-nee. But, if it
did disprove it, there would have to be the proving of something else.
Of what was really going on here.

After what seemed like hours of searching, they finally reached the
home that Brianna was staying in.

Mulder knocked on the wide wooden door. Brianna came to the door, the
smile on her face widening when she saw the agents.

But Scully noticed a fear in her dark eyes.

"Come in please," she said as they entered. "But not for long. My
uncle will be back soon."

They sat down on an old, stained leather couch, taking in the room
filled with American Indian artifacts. A dreamcatcher hung over one
doorway, moving in a slight breeze coming from an open window.

Brianna sat down and sighed. "I know it's not the best, but I have to
stay here for now."

Mulder nodded and asked, "Brianna, do you know of the legend of the
shama-nee?"

Scully rolled her eyes.

The smiled disappeared. The face changed and became closed. "My uncle
told me you would never stop talking about this. Don't you realize it
only puts you in..." she stopped. "It's best that you not know. As he
said, it is our way."

Mulder scratched his head thoughtfully. "Brianna, we know of the
legend. Are you a shama-nee?"

She wouldn't answer. She just turned away. "You should go now. I can't
say anything else of this matter."

Mulder stood and, taking Scully's arm. He turned and said, "If you
want to talk, you know where to find us." He led Scully out the door.

Brianna watched as the two agents left, twirling an errant strand of
black hair around her fingers. She wanted to tell them, wanted to let
them know what she was, what she caused.

But she couldn't. It would only mean more danger for them. She thought
of the dream. A shudder ran through her spine. If it had been allowed
to finish...she didn't want to think about it. Thanks be to god that she
had awoken before their fate was shown.

And realized.

She was nearing her 13th birthday. Choice day was nearing. And she
wasn't ready to decide her own fate, the only thing she would ever
decide...

Xxxxxxx

October 12
Long Island Indian Reservation
10:02 am

Scully sighed to herself as she stood in front of the wooden door to
Brianna's home. 'Why am I even here?' she wondered to herself as she
tapped her foot impatiently.

Under Mulder's insistence, she had obtained a warrant to remove
Brianna from her home to do tests. To see what exactly happened in her
mature mind.

She rapped a consistent three-tap beat on the door. The uncle
answered. "What do you want?"

"I have a warrant to remove your niece from your home temporarily on
suspicion that her health may possibly be in danger."

"Why do you believe that?" He looked slightly suspicious.

"I am not at liberty to tell you that now, Sir," she answered. In
actuality she didn't know why she was at this door, taking a child
away from her uncle. And yet she was doing just that. "Just let her
come with me."

He frowned. "All right, if it is the law, I guess I must. But there
are consequences of challenging fate."

A moment later Brianna appeared at the door. She spoke to her uncle
softly in Navaho, and he nodded gravely as he turned and walked away.

"I will come with you," Brianna whispered.

Xxxxxxx

Now, sitting in the car, Brianna fidgeted nervously. She leaned back
in the seat and tried to rest.

And then it happened.

~~~ The chief of police sat in his living room reading the latest
edition of the New York Times. It was late, but he didn't care. There
was nothing to do anyway, in a small town like Vergennes. Besides the
recent murder of that crazy Indian woman that he was helping to
investigate, the town was boring.

Then he heard the noise, saw the shadow. A man, holding something.

He heard the soft whisper in a strange tongue. "Kiato nay ni-oto."

He turned, a moment too late as the ax came crashing down onto him...
~~~

Brianna started awake as Scully pulled into a gas station.

"Want anything Brianna?" Scully asked as she got out of the car.

"No...no...no thanks," she whispered, shaken by the images.

Scully just shrugged and went into the gas station. After she had done
all necessary things, she went back to the car to find Brianna
shaking, her dark eyes wide with fear. Her thin arms were banded
tightly around her stomach, her face pale.

"What is it, Brianna?"

She turned, and Scully saw true fear. "The chief...tonight...it's his
time," she whispered.

Scully grabbed her cell phone to call Mulder. She was telling him to
get someone to watch the chief when she felt a cold hand graze her
shoulder.

"Do not send anyone. It won't help. It won't. It is his time, his
fate. It can and will not be changed." Brianna muttered, a strange
look passing her face. She passed out after whispering, "You can't
stop it..."

Xxxxxxx

Vergennes Medical Center
11:45 AM

"Mulder, these tests...they don't explain anything," Scully said as the
brain images came up on the screen.

"That's not possible, Scully," He pulled himself away from Brianna's
window. She was awake and talking to her uncle.

"The tests on Brianna's brain. Look."

Mulder turned to the screen and saw the pictures of Brianna's brain.
"What exactly am I looking at?"

"Mulder, this is a perfectly normal brain. Nothing strange, no unusual
activity or fluids. These tests say nothing save the fact that Brianna
is a normal girl."

Mulder frowned. "Scully, she saw her mother's murder, and tonight we
will know if what she saw about the chief was true. Like she said,
fate cannot be challenged. If she's right, he will die."

Scully shot him a look. "Mulder, it has to be a coincidence..."

"But what if it's not?"

She looked into his eyes and shrugged. "I don't know, Mulder...I just
don't know..."

Brianna's uncle, Dameon, walked up to the agents. "She's asking for
you."

Xxxxxxx

"He's going to die tonight," Brianna stated, leaning back in her bed.

"Who, Brianna? The chief?"

She nodded solemnly. "Tonight. A man will come to his home, and he
will be murdered with an axe. The man is an American Indian. He will
leave two footprints and a fingerprint among the blood."

Mulder leaned in closer to her. "How do you know this?"

She simply whispered, "I dreamed it. It will happen. Everything else
has."

"Why didn't you tell us about this sooner?" Mulder asked, prying as he
normally did.

"Not everyone can be trusted, Mr. Mulder," she said quietly. "Not
everyone."

Xxxxxxx

October 13
846 12th Street
8:01 am

"Happy birthday to me," Mulder sang dismally to himself as he knelt
next to the body of the now former chief of police. "It's not a
coincidence, Scully."

He was completely hacked up, blood was everywhere, and this time two
footprints and a fingerprint were left at the scene.

"Mulder..." She said as she came to kneel beside him. "This is just too
strange."

"But Scully, it happened just as she said it would. The footprints,
and I'm sure the weapon was an axe."

"God, Mulder, I just don't know how to explain it. I don't know if I
can believe in fate using a child to channel itself."

Mulder sighed. "Scully, I don't know if I can fully explain it either.
But all I know is that Brianna McLoughlin has a very special gift. A
very unwanted gift."

"Well, we'll get the prints analyzed. That should at least give us
some real evidence as to who the killer is."

Then they saw Dameon. He gave them a grave look and said, "Soon it can
stop. Soon a choice will be made. In one day's time, the highest
council will await an answer. In one day's time, life...or death." On
that cryptic statement he turned and walked away.

Scully looked at Mulder with questioning eyes as they left the home
and got into the car. "What did he mean?"

Mulder just recited, "Two choices: Live and forever cause death. Die a
cruel death, and with one final dream give someone what they wish
for."

At her skeptical countenance he added, "We can discuss it over dinner
tonight..."

"Okay," she said quietly. They watched each other for a moment, and
then she turned away to look out the window. "But if I have to listen
to one of your theories it had better be your treat."

"Scully," he replied. "It's my birthday today..."

She turned around to face him, prepared for a something or other
comeback about what he did at her last birthday when he said; "But I
guess I'm going to treat."

Scully stared over at him for a moment before she offered a slight
smile. "Okay, Mulder. Okay."

Xxxxxxx

Cardinal Caf
7:01 pm

"So, what you're saying is, she has a dream of a murder, and it
happens. And supposedly if she hadn't dreamed of it, the murder
wouldn't have happened. That's why a so-called 'shama-nee' is thought
to cause death," Scully said doubtfully as she scooped a forkful of
Romaine lettuce into her mouth. "But tell me something, Mulder. How do
you know that the murders wouldn't happen if she didn't dream of them?
There's no scientific way to tell."

Mulder watched her for a moment before answering, "How do you know
that God exists? That when you pray to God and ask for things, that
you wouldn't already get them if you hadn't prayed in the first
place?"

"It isn't polite to answer a question with two questions," she
retorted smartly.

"Scully, it's the same concept. You believe that there is a God who
controls the fate of the world. Of each person in it. And yet you
cannot know for sure if what happens is accidental or intentional. I
believe that Brianna is seeing murders before they happen. I can't
know for sure if the murders would happen otherwise. All I know is
that she sees a homicide in a dream, and later what she dreams comes
true."

"I don't know what to say, Mulder," Scully said quietly.

"How about 'Happy, birthday, Mulder, would you like a birthday kiss?'"
He said, only half-joking.

She leaned in close and said, her voice dropping an octave, "Happy
birthday, Mulder."

They stared into each other's eyes for seconds before he broke the
looks by replying, "You forgot the last part,"

She didn't answer then, and instead sat back and shook her head
good-naturedly at him. He extended a smile in her direction and was
about to say something when Scully's cell phone rang sharply.

She picked up quickly. "Scully. Yes...I see. We'll be right there." She
hung up and took her coat from the back of her chair as she stood.
"They have our killer."

Xxxxxxx

"Allen Goldfield." An Indian man appeared on the computer screen. "He
did time about 13 years ago for attempted murder, and when he was
released, he lived in Vergennes for a few years before we lost track
of him," The blonde doctor said as she stared at the screen.

Scully stared at the man, looking for anything distinguishing. She
noticed that he had strange eyes, one deep brown and the other ice
blue.

Mulder looked intently at the man on the screen. "Can we find him
now?"

She shook her head. "Not unless you go to a fortune teller." At
Mulder's thoughtful look, she quickly said, "I was joking."

Scully saw something in Mulder's eyes and after a curt 'thank you' to
the doctor she pulled Mulder aside.

"You have an idea," she simply said.

To her utter surprise he shook his head. "No, not yet. But we have to
get back to Brianna. She might be able to tell us something. We'll
find him. Before he kills again."

Xxxxxxx

Corner of Ananda and 3rd
10:02 pm

Scully flipped her cell phone shut. "It's no use. She's not
answering."

Mulder drove down the street, looking for any signs that this 'Allen
Goldfield' had been in the vicinity. "Keep trying," he growled as his
eyes scanned the area.

Suddenly, someone ran directly in front of their car. Mulder screeched
to a halt and for only a moment the headlights shone in the man's
eyes. On brown, one blue. The man took off running into the shadows as
Scully said, "That's him, Mulder."

Mulder turned off the car and they jumped out to chase the man, Mulder
yelling "Allen Goldfield, you are under arrest for the murders of
Crystal McLoughlin and Chief of Police Romare..."

Xxxxxxx

October 14
Long Island Indian Reservation
12:00 am

~~~ They walked into the dark passage, both unaware that someone was
watching. Scully was alert, her blue eyes scanning everything in
sight.

But she did not see him.

Mulder stood in front of her, his gun poised and ready. "Scully, be
careful."

But he did not see him. He looked down at his watch. 12:15 am.

The man rose from the shadows and whispered in an evil voice, "Kiato
nay ni-oto. I don't know why I do the things I do."

Mulder and Scully spun to face Allen Goldfield. Mulder said, "What?"

It was then that they saw the axe being raised above Allen's head. "I
don't know why I do the things I do. It must just be that fate has
dealt me a cruel hand," he spoke in severely broken English.

Scully whispered, "You don't have to do this, Allen."

He just chuckled a little. "But, don't you see? The fate of one cannot
be changed, once it has been seen fit to happen. It will not change,
no matter what."

Again, he raised the axe and held it over his head, poised to strike
and kill the two agents. Scully instinctively screamed, throwing Allen
off balance. The blade almost entirely missed her, only leaving one
blood red cut on her arm. Her gun, however, flew from her hand and
landed in the darkness, where a sound of a sewer rat scurrying away
from the fallen weapon filled the air.

Mulder fired every round in his gun, somehow missing every time. His
eyes widened when he tripped and fell. Allen walked to him, axe poised
to strike.

He smiled a little. "A dream is a question to the answer fate has
already bestowed upon us..." As, without hesitation, he brought the
blade down on each agent, killing them one at a time... ~~~

Brianna started awake. She looked at the clock on her desk. 12:05 am.
Five minutes past the moment of her birth. Ten minutes for them.

It was then that she noticed a group of Indian men standing in her
bedroom, solemn looks on their ghastly faces. A sharp white light
surrounded each of them. She knew that they were the highest council.
They spoke to her in slightly broken English.

"Have you made a decision, little child?" One asked.

"N...No," she replied shakily. "I can't decide."

Another stepped from the shadows. "But, don't you know, if you choose
death, the two FBI people shall live. And so shall many others after
them."

"I know," she cried out as the men surrounded her bed.

"You must make your choice, little one," the first man chanted in her
ears.

Brianna's hands came up to shield her ears and she wailed, "I want to
help them! Just, please, let me do something." She got up and walked
to her desk and scrawled something on a piece of paper. "Please let
him get this," she whispered, almost prayer-like.

She crawled back into her bed and let the sheets down, exposing
herself to them. "I have made my choice," she whispered, a slight
wobble in her voice. "Do what you will."

The largest man leaned over her, his dark eyes glittering with an
undeniable emotion. He was happy.

He put his mouth close to hers until she could feel his breath on her
face. Then he inhaled slowly, taking in her life force with the air.

Brianna gasped, then jerked as she felt the pain sweep over her. She
couldn't breathe, and the tightness of her chest scared her. In a
distance, she heard Dameon calling her name, yelling that he would
save her. But she knew that it couldn't come to pass. As she felt the
pain leave her and the men disappear slowly, one by one, she knew her
fate had been sealed by her own words: "I have made my choice."

She closed her eyes in a bittersweet victory, one over fate, which
would hold only one casualty. A little girl named Brianna McLoughlin.

Xxxxxxx

They walked into the dark passage, both unaware that someone was
watching. Scully was alert, her blue eyes scanning everything in
sight.

But she did not see him.

Mulder stood in front of her, his gun poised and ready. "Scully, be
careful."

But he did not see him. He looked down at his watch. 12:15 am.

The man rose from the shadows and whispered in an evil voice, "Kiato
nay ni-oto. I don't know why I do the things I do."

Mulder and Scully spun to face Allen Goldfield. Mulder said, "What?"

It was then that they saw the axe being raised above Allen's head. "I
don't know why I do the things I do. It must just be fate has dealt me
a cruel hand," he spoke in severely broken English.

Scully whispered, "You don't have to do this, Allen."

He just chuckled a little. "But, you don't see? The fate of one cannot
be changed, once it has been seen fit to happen. It will not change,
no matter what."

Again, he raised the axe and held it over his head, poised to strike
and kill the two agents. Scully instinctively screamed, throwing Allen
off balance. The blade almost entirely missed her, only leaving one
long blood red cut on her arm. She fell to the ground, slamming her
head on the pavement. Her gun, however, flew from her hand and landed
in the darkness, where a sound of a sewer rat scurrying away from the
fallen weapon filled the air.

Mulder fired every round in his gun, somehow missing every time. His
eyes widened when he tripped and fell. Allen walked to him, axe poised
to strike.

He smiled a little. "A dream is a question to the answer fate has
already bestowed upon us..." He was about to let the axe down on Mulder
when there was a loud gunshot, and Allen fell to the ground, a hole
burning in his chest.

Behind him stood Dameon, shaking as the gun fell from his hands. He
fell to the ground and cried, "Her choice was made...your fate
changed...her fate sealed..."

Scully stood up slowly and put a hand over the cut on her arm. Mulder
was immediately at her side. "You okay?"

She looked at him, eyes wide with fear. "It's going to need stitches."

"Can we get to a hospital?" Mulder turned to Dameon.

"Yes," Dameon replied, holding up a cell phone. "Brianna, she is
already there...we can get there too."

Xxxxxxx

Vergennes Medical Center
1:34 am

"How is she?" Mulder stood as Scully walked into the waiting room. A
bandage was over where the cut on her arm was, on its way to healing.

She shook her head. "She's in extreme coma, Mulder. Even if she were
to live, she would never wake up. The respirator is only prolonging
her life, not improving the quality of it."

"And are you going to make it?" he asked her.

"I think so," she said with a hint of sarcasm. He smiled at her and
put his hand to her cheek, touching the growing bruise there from when
she had fallen to the ground. She must have hit it, he decided.

"You're going to have one hell of a shiner tomorrow, Scully," he joked
with her.

She put her fingers to the side of her face to touch it. He dropped
his hand. "I know," she said quietly. "But I think I'll live. Hey,
Mulder, after this is all blown over, how about you come over and we
can watch a movie...for your birthday present..." she sighed. "Or
something."

"Yeah," was all he said as Dameon came in to greet them.  He held out
a single sheet of paper to them. "Brianna wanted to give this to you..."

Xxxxxxx

Dear Mr. Mulder,

This is my final and only contact I will have with you. I speak to you
in the last moments of my life. You were right, I am a shama-nee.
Unwillingly. I have chosen to give up everything for the sake of two
FBI agents, that they may live. I am just going to tell you goodbye,
for I now know that my prophecy must be fulfilled. Soon, as I cannot
bear to see the answer that my own fate has given you and your partner
brought to life.

Remember me. My final dream shall be for you.

Brianna McLoughlin

Xxxxxxx

Mulder stared at the letter. So it was true. She had stopped their
murders by giving herself up. He was standing outside of her hospital
room window, staring in at her nearly still form on the bed. Without
the occasional rise and fall of her chest, one would never know she
was being kept alive by the respirator machine next to her bed.

Scully stood next to him, and she too watched Brianna, a sad look on
her face. "Mulder...I don't know what to say about this."

"I was right?" he deadpanned.

She smiled warily at him, and turned back to the window. "I...I don't
know, Mulder...it's just so strange, a young girl unknowingly deciding
the fate of those around her."

"It's channeling, Scully. She only knew the fate. She couldn't change
it."

They both turned as Brianna's uncle walked into the room with the
doctor. They were in deep discussion. Finally, Dameon nodded. They
walked up to the two agents, a despairing look on Dameon's face.

He watched his niece, watched her chest rise and fall slightly. "I
always knew this day would come. She is so selfless, that she would
help another instead of herself."

They saw her mouth move a little, and a small smile crossed her face.

"She's probably dreaming her last," Dameon whispered past the lump in
his throat. Only Mulder and Scully knew what he was talking about.

The doctor looked over at him. "What would you like to do?"

Then he spoke the words, fulfilling the prophecy of the shama-nee.
"Take her off."
 
Xxxxxxx

~~~ ...It took her awhile, but she was finally able to leave the
comforts of his bed. She instantly missed the warmth he had created by
breathing against the nape of her neck, his nose buried in the crook
of her shoulder. She smiled softly as she remembered the goings on of
the night before, only hours earlier, the consummation of nearly seven
years of pent-up feelings as they had made gentle love on that same
bed.

She picked up her garments from the floor as she made her way to the
bathroom in the darkness, tripping over his black Nike's that had
haphazardly been thrown to the floor, along with other clothing that
probably should have been put away months earlier.

She began to pull on her clothes, to zip her pants, to tuck the
ever-errant strand of auburn hair behind her ear as she pondered the
fact that only a few months earlier, they had shared a chaste kiss the
New Year's before, light banter with underlying innuendoes over his
favourite movie, Caddyshack. In her own perfected Scully-skepticism,
she wondered if there had ever been a time when she had thought that
this would happen.

She turned toward the bed as she walked back into the bedroom. He was
asleep, head turned in slumber, one hand resting on his bare chest.
She smiled softly as she picked up her jacket. As she was leaving, she
turned back and went to him.

She bent down low and kissed his cheek with the ghost of a touch. She
started to say something. "Mulder..." But then she stopped. There would
be time for talk later. She turned and quietly left. ~~~

Her last dream. Even in a coma, Brianna knew. She had given them the
most beautiful thing in the world. A new fate, a new life. What they
had wished for.

She knew of the questions that one could ask of so-called 'fate.' How
can you know if what happens is accidental or intentional? That it
wouldn't already happen if nothing or no one had controlled it?

But she also understood that everything happens for a reason.

She could feel her lips forming the sacred syllables. "Lie quio-te.
I'm free."

And for the first time, like a gentle wind carrying God's song, the
dream brought a smile.

And a promise.

Xxxxxxx

El Fin

Xxxxxxx

END NOTES: I got this idea from a dream (how ironic). I hope you
enjoyed reading it. Thanks!

Xxxxxxx

LiLx