Ghostly.

Glasgow, Kentucky.

May 23, 2010.

Mulder stood with Gene at the airport, considering everything he had experienced in the last week. It all felt like a bad dream, mixed with the devastation of loss. His ghost had left some of his pain behind, and Mulder was swimming in his grief. He had no choice but to empathize.

"He loved her so much," Mulder murmured. He touched the bandage around his neck, absently recalling how close he had come to bleeding out in that riverbed. "He didn't want to live on without her… even though he caused her death. I've never… I've never felt anything that strong. I don't think I'll ever forget it."

Gene put a hand on his shoulder. "When we were burning the bones… I swear I saw the woman in the trees. We were just sitting by the road, stacking twigs and lighting matches, and she was standing there watching us. I think she was waiting for him."

"You made sure hers were burned, too?"

"The crematorium returned the remains to Harris about fifteen minutes ago," Gene said, checking his phone. "I think he said they were returning them to the tree."

"Tell him to bury them in the meadow."

"It's weird," Gene said, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes had a mystical veil over them. "I mean, we really came full circle. We brought them back to the last place they were happy, the last place where their lives made sense."

"I like to think they walk the world together now," Mulder murmured, a little hesitant to share that view. Gene gave him a curious expression, so he went on. "Maybe the afterlife is whatever we think it is. Maybe the happiest they'll ever be is just… together. It doesn't even matter where. One more day together. One day that goes on for eternity."

"That's beautiful."

Mulder clasped him on the back, seeing the boarding call for his plane pop up. "Scully will be waiting. I should get going."

"I'm glad to have met you, Fox," Gene said.

"We should do this again sometime. Without the ghosts."

"Right. Maybe the terror bird will make a comeback."

"We can dream," Mulder responded wistfully, heading toward the gate. He saw Scully beckoning him, a soft, patient smile on her face.

Scully wove her arm into his. He leaned over to kiss her cheek, cringing when he pulled the wound on his neck. "Ouch. Why didn't you do something about this?"

"You were at knifepoint, Mulder."

"At knifepoint, by my own hand."

"I tried. You gashed my arm. I think you deserve that little paper cut."

"Paper cut," he scoffed. "Three stitches, Scully."

"Twenty-seven," she countered.

He smiled at her, and she smiled back. His heart was momentarily lifted out of the haze the ghost left behind. When they finally made it to their seats, stuffed into a two-person row in the middle of the economy section, Scully took the window seat and removed the armrest from between them, leaning heavily into his shoulder. She turned her head into him, smiling.

"When we get home, I want you to take a dozen more profiling cases."

"Why?"

"I want you to suffer as much as I'm going to suffer at work."

"Of course." He kissed the top of her head, staring out the window. He could see little figures running all over the place. "I love you, Scully."

"I love you too, Mulder." She was quiet for several minutes. "Um… there's something I need to tell you. Promise you won't panic."

"What?"

"We sort of… Well, Iden is kind of… The furniture was… No, I'll tell you when we get there."

XxX XxX XxX

He woke in the middle of the night, overwhelmed again by the storm of emotions the ghost had produced in him. He sat up for a while, sweating, trying to knead the sadness out of his head, until he finally left for the other room. He hung in the doorway momentarily, watching Scully sleep. She had her arms curled up under her face, her eyes shut as lightly as ever. Seeing her like that brought a smile to his face. She was safe, and alive, and they were home.

He sat in his office, his feet up on his desk, looking into a painfully bright computer screen. Frankie had jumped off the bed to come with him, and she sat up in the window, curious about his intentions. In the deadly silence between them, he sensed her questions.

"Something doesn't feel right," he admitted to her, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Something still feels… unsolved."

Frankie tilted her head.

"It was the librarian," he said, feeling a little chill just for thinking about it. He looked up the library, glancing through their staff pages. He couldn't find a picture of her. "I know I saw her… And I saw her in my dreams, when the ghost was trying to communicate. Every other face was different, but hers… she was really there."

He sighed, picking absently at his bandages.

"Try looking through newspaper articles."

He jumped, almost falling out of his chair. Byers was lounging in the window with the dog, looking out at the moon. It came across his face in a dramatic streak.

Mulder looked back at his computer, surprised to see Frohike standing nearby. He had a grim expression planted on his otherwise kind face. He slid the mouse over to Mulder's hand, glancing down at the keys. "I think you know what's happening, Mulder."

With his eyes still on the deceased government watchdog, Mulder typed in his worst fears. He went from headline to headline, searching for the name of the library, and the face of the woman he had seen. His last search, perhaps the darkest, was very specific. The words just came to him, like he had already seen them somewhere.

Librarian dies in library basement.

She was dead. He was looking right at her smiling face. He had never seen it before that vision, and he had seen it for the second time in the library, while he was perfectly awake. He had felt a chill go through him. He had witnessed her sudden departure.

"She said… she said it had been so long since she was able to talk to someone… she wanted me to stay down and talk to her."

He rested his head in his hands, digging his fingers into his forehead.

Frohike came a little closer, leaning into the screen. "She had a heart attack while she was doing her job. She died over forty years ago."

"I'm losing my mind," Mulder groaned.

He heard the door rattling, and then Iden appeared in his doorway. She was frowning, her little face streaked with tears. "Fox? I had a bad dream."

His heart sunk. Scully had filled him in on her activities while he was away. From what she had described, he could only conclude that Iden was having legitimate psychic visions, in her dreams and while she was awake. The power of her fear was enough to draw objects to her. It was enough to shake the foundation of their home. It was enough to scare Deloris away.

"Come here," he whispered, pulling her up to sit in his lap. He leaned back in his chair and she curled up against his chest like a little puppy dog, whimpering. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She looked up, her eyes glowing in the pale light of the moon.

"I think I… I think I'm going to die."

XxX XxX XxX

END OF "EPISODE ONE: THE MEADOW"

Next time on the X-Files…

The Sight: Mulder and Scully face off against an alien parasite who feeds on the psychic abilities of others, namely the local children.