Rumors of my death have been greatly exagerrated.

Oh, I fell down the stairs. I should say, I was pushed. I'm not particularly bitter about it. After all, in Alex's position I might have done the same thing.

I was terminally ill. This, of course, is where miracles come into play. In my universe, you see, nothing is as it seems. And I let everyone believe what they want. You can go ahead, believe that this is a miracle. I won't argue with you.

So, I've survived the impossible. Twice.

There was that gunshot wound....

Ok, three times.

I have been called the devil. I don't deny that I have been, at times, a devil. After all, I did attempt to kill my son (I'm still not sure if I succeeded). I did have Agent Scully abducted, given cancer, and made infertile. Some suspect that I killed Kennedy, and Dr. King. Not true, but certainly believable. I was there, after all.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions,though. Everything I've done, I've done for the good of the human race. If they don't see that, I can't help them.

But I believe in second chances, in an opportunity to prove oneself and one's theories.

At least, I believe in second chances....for myself.

No one ever said I wasn't vastly egomaniacal.

So I'm alive. I'm sure that this fact would not really surprise anyone, not even my would-be assassins. It might, however, upset a lot of plans.

I am more aware of recent events than you might expect. For instance, I know that Fox Mulder is gone. This is regrettable, and it might have been prevented had the ego of Alex Krycek not collided with my own. But it is not, for the moment, reconcilible. These young men and women are so certain of themselves, so certain that they can stop the inevitable and fight the future.

What do they know about fighting the future?

But I digress.

The crash at Bellefleur was, as I told Marita and Alex, a singular opportunity. Once these
beings make a mistake, they are not likely to do so again. Abductions are probably being conducted worldwide. This was something the syndicate, in its former glory, was fighting against. Simply the next step toward colonization.

I sit here now, waiting for the opportunity to present myself and reveal what I am sure some
of them suspect. Agent Scully, for instance. She has become her partner in so many ways. No doubt she has less trust in me than she does in Alex Krycek. She'll know to be looking over her shoulder for me. Why should I be dead now? I never was before.

Ah, the cruel irony of life. The bad guy is alive and well, and the hero is missing, probably dead. Now MacBeth makes some sense. Life is indeed a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury. And our lives on this earth signify nothing.

Well, not all our lives.

I need a cigarette.

She's coming up the stairs now, I can hear her. You know, I think I myself will stick to elevators from here on out. But she's old-fashioned.

I find it interesting that she reformed so quickly upon finding out I was still alive. And doing much better, I might add. No tracheotomy. No wheelchair.

She enters the room. I am so relieved, she has a carton of Morleys with her. I'll light one now, thank you.

"I have some news."

My ears perk up.

"Yes?"

"Agent Scully is pregnant."

I can already feel the smile creeping across my face. This is a surprise, a very welcome and pleasant surprise.

"Thank you, Diana. Life is indeed like a story, isn't it?" She looks upset, pinched in the face and almost green in color.

Life is a story.

Told by an idiot.