The heat is rising from the cobblestones. The air is thick with perfume. Flowers
are being trampled underfoot. There are flowers around the necks and wrists of
little brown girls with eyes like coals. There are flowers around the necks of
arrogant monkey gods The monkeys are everywhere, little bullies out to pick
pockets. One of them boldly ran off with Alex's sunglasses as Tigger Sundown
laughed and laughed.
Alex wonders why he would ever come here. What is he doing in India? Why did he
accept a job as a bodyguard to a man, who had ditched more security than Fox
Mulder had ditched partners?
Myrrh and sandalwood incense rise from the crowd in a fragrant mist. And Tigger
is singing. He's chanting. His golden brown hands supplicate with the rest of
the hands.
"Hanuman!"
"Hanuman!"
The boy's grandfather appears on the stone steps, holding the child. Alex has
edged them close enough to see the fleshy tail of the baby. The child is
beautiful. He has slightly pinched features, but it looks right on him. His eyes
are huge and round, glowing with life. He chuckles as a blackbird flies to his
outstretched hand. The blackbird is singing. His chest fills and he trills. His
notes are high and clear, so sweet. He must think he is the first bird in
creation.
It's the first time in a long time that Alex has heard a bird sing without the
urge to shoot it. Why do birds sing? Don't they know that there's nothing worth
singing about?
But this one is warbling and Alex starts to smile. Beside him, Tigger Sundown
sings right along with the blackbird and his eyes are closed. His voice is pure
and strong.
It's been a long strange trip, but suddenly, Alex doesn't regret signing on as
this antique folk singer's bodyguard.
The crowd sways. They join hands as the monkey baby's sacred spots are revealed.
Tigger's long, narrow face glows. Hair escapes from his braids and the loose
tendrils form a nimbus like a halo around his beatific face.
"Alex, Alex, ask for something. Ask for your heart's desire!" Tigger shouts over
the roar of adoration.
Smiling bitterly, Alex glances at his artificial limb. He looks up at the Monkey
Boy and said, "Hanuman, make me whole!"
The child laughs again. He kicks his dimpled feet and there's a mutter of
adoration from the crowd. Everyone is swaying and Tigger is singing his heart
out.
Now the crowd is dancing. A cloud of dust rises slowly, but it's an odd
phenomenon. It doesn't choke Alex and he sees the crowd shimmering through the
haze.
All of a sudden, Fox Mulder is walking through the crowd with Monica Reyes.
She's wearing a sleeveless tee shirt and as she approaches the crowd, she also
dances.
"Mulder, it might be real. He might be the Monkey God!" Reyes shouts. Her
ecstatic face is raised to the sun. She's grooving, dancing to her own beat.
Mulder laughs and Alex remembers hearing him laugh once or twice like that when
they were partners and his heart is breaking.
Mulder's voice is clear to Alex as if he was standing there next to him, "Reyes
I can't believe you persuaded me to do this. I'm supposed to be hiding!"
Alex whispers, "Make me whole, Hanuman,"
And maybe he doesn't mean the arm anymore.
The crowd is humming and there's a flash of light. Walter Skinner is stranding
there, looking confused, until pretty little Kim puts a wreath of jasmine
flowers around his strong neck. He looks at her as if he has never seen her
before then he shouts with joy and he spins her in his arms. They're dancing.
They're dancing and they only see each other.
Marita approaches like an ivory ghost...but her face pinks with color as Jeff
Spender runs out of the crowd, leaving his mother's side. They run to each other
and they join hands. They wave at Alex and they walk away. This time they know
the way. They're going to be free this time.
And as he stares at the beautifully bound publication that has appeared in his
hands, CSM Spender sees Cassandra. He falls to her feet and he entreats for
forgiveness. She looks at him and then she nods...because even the bad guy gets
a break today.
Fox sees someone now and his face is so beautiful in joy. Samantha's braids fly
around her as she waltzes on her father's feet. Teena Mulder is beaming. Her
face is so lovely, free of the fear and shame she wore on her face every moment
of her life after her daughter was taken.
"Samantha!" Mulder shouts.
"Silly Fox, I've been right here all along!' Samantha teases.
"Where?" Mulder asks.
"In your heart, Fox," Samantha said and giggles as her father swings her in a
circle.
There's a pop and John Doggett appears, holding Scully's hand until he sees the
boy with blue eyes and the girl with red hair.
A moment later, Scully is crying for joy as she holds Emily in her arms.
"William, your sister, it's your sister!"
Oh god, she is holding the girl so tightly that she almost misses the serene
face of her sister as she arrives in a shower of flower petals. Melissa smiles
and joins the dance...
Doggett has a fierce smile on his face. The boy's in his arms and you know he
won't lose him again. As Alex realizes that he's the only one alone, Doggett
salutes him...
A hand closes on his shoulder. Oh god...
Bill Mulder.
"Go on now, son..."
Nudged forward, Alex stares.
Mulder sees him and the glowing mist fades. The happy voices murmur more
distantly.
The world is a haze. Nothing's real. Nothing has substance but two men. They
walk toward each other. There's only Mulder. There's only Krycek. They walk
through the crowd like two gunfighters, but when they reach each other, they
meet each other's eyes.
They kiss.
They kiss for the longest time until they glow white-hot. Until they are
surrounded by rosy light. Until they glow like the first morning.
And it's the end. It's the beginning. They're kissing. They're rocking in each
other's arms and they're safe and sound.
And it's the first morning.
The End
The First Morning
Morning has broken, like the first morning
Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Morning has broken, like the first morning
Like the First Morning
by Ursula
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the world
Like the first dew fall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass
Born of the one light, eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the world
