Rift
By RocketMan
lebontrager@iname.com
Co-Producer after part 4: Melissa Kennedy - scullee@email.com

Story, Angst, Mulder/Scully Married. Spoilers through "The Beginning." 

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is
intended.
WARNING:::::I just saw, for the second time (don't ask me why) Hope
Floats. And it's still awful. I mean, that is the saddest, most pathetic
movie I've ever seen in my life. And the ending has no redemption for it
at all. So, this is a product of all that misery. 
Content:::::MSR, heavy A, Alternate reality--SPOILERS for everything
since I can't remember what's in here.

Thanks goes to Isahunter, for encouragement and . . .email. =-)

~~~~
Rift
~~~~

She shoved the huge binder back into the box, then used her still
pulsing rage to rip the packing tape from the spool and roughly close up
the lid.

Her little girl walked in, mouth turned down, hands frighteningly empty.

She froze in her packing as Mulder walked in behind her.

The girl looked up, then back to her mother, eyes misted, face screwed
up with a look somewhere between gleeful and anguished.

"Mommy," she said softly and ran to her, throwing her arms about Dana's
waist with the force of an atomic bomb, or maybe just a regular natural
disaster.

"Hey, love. Are you packed yet?"

The girl pulled back, glanced once more to Mulder, then clenched tightly
to Scully's hand, pulling apart her fingers.

No more than four and a half, Grace thought she knew just about
everything, had it all figured out. She was soft, though, in word and
deed, with her hair a golden color that changed to red in the summers,
and darker brown in the winters.

Scully saw Mulder in her at every turn, and it hurt, but having her much
loved, much fought for daughter would be worth it.

"Mommy, I'm not going with you."

Scully's eyes narrowed to keep the confusion, the denial from her face.

"What? Where's your stuff, Gracie?"

Grace's eyes shut, her mouth trembled and she pulled back, running to
Mulder.

Mulder sat down in the dining room chair, his face a mask, his hands
occupied with Grace.

"Gracie, Gracie, what. . ."

The look, the very charge and stillness to the air told her.

Blood pooled in her mouth before she even realized that she'd been
biting her bottom lip, and she gasped, and licked it away, raising a
hand to Grace, as if motioning for her to quit playing games.

This wasn't a game.

"I want Daddy. . ." Grace said, her bottom lip quivering, her eyes tear
filled, her hands working in anguish along her cheeks.

Dana felt her world drop from her again, just as it had when it'd
happened, and she slumped to the floor beside her boxes, shaking.

Mulder jumped up, pushed Grace to the side, and pulled her from the
floor, hands gentle and soft.

She let herself relax into him for a moment, then guiltily shook him
off, the pain of his mere touch more than she could bear.

"You want Daddy, huh?"

Grace nodded, running back to her mother and burying her head in between
Scully's legs, sobbing without control.

"Okay," she said softly, realizing she was powerless to dissuade her
little girl. "Okay. You want Daddy. He can come and visit us, Gracie."

Mulder glanced to her wildly, his eyes dark and sorrowed.

She didn't get it.

"No, Mommy, I want to stay with Daddy."

Stay. With her father.

She was going to throw up, right there, throw up all over the moving
boxes and Grace and Mulder and just continue retching until she no
longer existed.

She crumpled into Grace, falling into her arms and crying, the tears
silent and excruciating as her daughter begged to be left.

Left.

"I'm not leaving you, Gracie. I'm not leaving you. I love you baby, more
than anything."

"Please, please, Mommy. I can visit. Mommy please."

Mulder's suddenly tight hand clenched around her upper arm, dragging her
up.

"Scully. . .don't make this harder. Please."

She narrowed her eyes, wanting to hate him, wanting to have that in her,
the ability to stare him down and take Grace away from him.

She couldn't. Oh, God, she still couldn't hate him.

Silently, remotely, she pulled her arms from Grace, put her fist to her
mouth before turning, grabbing a half filled box.

Grace danced to her side, tears cascading freely.

"I'm sorry Mommy. I'm sorry. Please, Mommy."

Se turned, her mouth twisted so she wouldn't cry, her eyes brimming
anyway.

"What's please for, Gracie? I still love you. I will never stop loving
you. This is your choice."

"But you can *stay* Mommy. You can stay. Please?"

Scully sighed, saw Mulder's fright, his startled look of panic.

"No, Grace, I can't. Daddy just wants you."

To her dismay, her words came out choked, horridly wrenched from her
throat like claws were sliding down her sides.

"No!" Grace wailed, and threw herself at her mother, bursting into tears
again.

"Grace. . .Gracie, please, stop it."

Mulder drew her away, up into his arms, rubbing her back, soothing her
as only he could.

Scully watched and realized she should have known this, should have
realized that Grace would want to stay with her father. She loved him to
pieces, adored him, did everything to please him.

This was right, she told herself. This was how it was.

"Gracie. Walk momma to the car?" she said, trying her best to remain
upbeat.

Grace scrambled from Mulder's arms and picked up a lighter box, helping
out.

As Scully passed by, Mulder touched her shoulder.

She turned, wishing again that she could just hate him. Maybe it'd make
it easier.

"I don't. . .didn't want it to happen this way, Scully. But Grace. . .I
love her. You know that. Whenever, wherever, you come by, okay? She
needs you."

Scully shook her head. "I know that, Mulder. She needs both her parents.
I didn't decide on this. You did."

She pulled away, leaving him in the doorway, the confused and helpless
look permanently etched on his face.
~~~~~

The car was packed, her things loaded in, which wasn't much, considering
they'd spent six years or more together, and in one small house.

She'd never been able to pack up and go, always a hindrance with her
childhood family whenever they had to move. She always forgot things,
was always too depressed and moping to pack her things right.

Scully knew she'd drive away from here and wind up missing something.

Besides Grace.

Maybe her toothbrush.

The day was dying, the light spilling over the far away hills with just
enough strength to let her see Grace's face as she came outside.

She was crying, clutching her Daddy though.

"Good bye, Gracie. I'll call you tonight before bedtime."

Gracie nodded and dove again into her mother's legs, sobbing.

Sighing, feeling all the more miserable, Scully squatted down, drawing
her into a fierce embrace.

"Stay Mommy. Stay." she begged, not raising her eyes to meet her
mother's.

Dana wished she could explain to her daughter how it was, explain that
there was nothing in the world that could make Fox Mulder want her.

Nothing at all.

"Sorry, sorry, Gracie. I'm so sorry. This isn't your fault, honey. None
of this is your fault."

"Daddy said that too. You can stay. Maybe Daddy is just kidding."

She gave a snort, and shook her head, still holding onto Gracie for dear
life.

She didn't know how to make this right, how to show Grace that she
wasn't leaving *her* or that she didn't *not* want to stay.

"Grace, if I could stay, don't you think I would? Don't you believe that
I want you with all my being?"

Her words choked on the raw sense of loss and pain that seared through
her. She couldn't breathe.

But she had to go. Mulder didn't want her, her own little girl didn't
either, and she knew that she needed to start over.

Find herself again, not the woman Mulder had molded out of her.

"Good bye, Gracie." 

She slipped out of her daughter's arms and into the front seat of the
old car, starting the engine even as Grace bawled, Mulder holding her
tightly.

It crashed in on her in a wave.

She couldn't do this. She couldn't leave without her baby girl.

She glanced once to Mulder, wishing for all the world that he would just
nod to her, offer that singular glance that, while it might not make
everything okay, would be a sure step to recovery.

He didn't.

She said bye again, this time nothing more than a whisper, and put the
car in gear, biting her lip again.

Grace wiggled down and nearly got run over trying to keep the car from
leaving, but Mulder scooped her up and held her, burying his own tears
in her hair.

She was gone.
~~~~

On the side of the interstate, cars whizzing by like an out of control
merry go round, her own Ford sat, hunkered like a dying animal.

She sobbed, her breath not finding any purchase in her lungs, her hands
shaking too hard to even find her car keys anymore.

She couldn't stop.

The ache was soul deep, and widening the farther she drove.

A rift, swallowing her hole.
~~~~
~~~~
~~~~

She rang the bell, eyes dried and scratchy from her roadside crying,
face smeared with make-up and tears.

Her mother answered immediately, and she just stood there, her car keys
dangling limply from her hand.

"Dana?"

She clamped down on her bottom lip and then choked on a sob, coming into
her mother's arms like a tidal wave.

"It's all my fault," she gasped, sinking down into childhood and
sweetness without a second thought.

"Oh baby, baby," her mother crooned, shoving the door shut with her foot
and leading her daughter into the living room.

"I've ruined everything," Scully whispered and shut her eyes, body
racked with sorrow.
~~~~

Mulder's fingers were cold as he buttoned Grace's sweater; she
complained as his hands brushed her chin and face.

When she was dressed, he went to the thermastat and inched it up a
notch, rubbing his chilled fingers together as Grace watched him.

"I want Mommy," she said pitifully.

Mulder sighed and sat down in the floor, his eyes closing tightly.

"Baby, you know what I said. I wish Mommy could stay. . ."

He angrily throttled the rest of his words, instead drawing her into his
arms with a fierceness he'd never felt before.

Not before Scully.

"I want my Mommy," she whispered.

"I know baby. I know. I want Mommy too."
~~~~

Scully wasn't drunk, though she certainly felt like it, and she wasn't
ill either, although she was pretty sick.

Head hanging over the toilet, she cried a mixture of sweat and tears,
letting her mother's soothing, cool hands give relief to her weariness.

"Dana, tell me what happened, honey. Tell me what's going on."

"He doesn't love me, momma. He's just a different person. . .I'm a
different person. He doesn't love me."

"Dana, stop feeling sorry for yourself-"

"And what?" she growled, head raising so that her mother got a good look
at her misery. "Stop feeling sorry for myself and do what? Find someone
else? There *is* no one else. Mulder and Grace are all I have. And he's
taken them both away from me."

"But baby, you left."

She buried her head in her hands, catching her sobs in her throat.

"Because I caught him, momma. I caught him and he tried to lie to me
first, tried to pass it off. I caught him again. He doesn't want me,
doesn't love me. He finds himself in other women, finds completion apart
from me. No matter how I love him, there's no life in that, no life for
Grace."

"I don't believe that Dana."

"Shut up, momma. I really. . .really don't need this from you," she
said, eyes wet and running over, her face ready to disolve into a self
hatred, self pity that would last a long time.

Mrs. Scully quieted, then reached out and took Dana's body into her
arms, infusing the shaking limbs with warmth and rekindling the fire in
her soul.

"I'm sorry Momma. I failed you so much. . .so much."

"Shh, Dana." she whispered, rocking her child against the cold bathroom
tile. "You've never failed me. I've always been proud of you. Always."

In her misery, Scully did not feel her mother's tears, sliding down and
into her hair, disappearing with the rest.

"It just feels so wrong without him. . . so wrong," she whispered, her
body ready to collapse, mind shutting down.

"I know it does, baby. I know."

With that, Dana succumbed to sleep, her body curled tightly around her
mother, wishing for the world she could be five again.
~~~~

"I'm not going to bed! Mommy said she'd call me!"

Mulder sighed and yanked her arm through the pajama sleeve, then over
her head.

"Just get ready for bed, then Grace."

"Mommy's going to call me. I know she is."

"She wouldn't forget you baby. I know that."

Her twisted, concentrated face had Scully's mannerism, although none of
her physical appearance.

It was amazing how much she could look like Scully, without really being
Scully's. Grace had been a miracle brought to them by billions of
doctors and a million procedures and a thousand tries and a hundred
different genes.

To get one beautiful Grace.

But the strain of it, the terror and fear and never knowing of it, had
pushed them further and further apart. While Grace was only biologically
his and not Scully's, Mulder could not help but see Scully in her every
move, every look. It helped that the egg used to create Grace was from
Melissa Scully, but still, Grace was her mother, without a doubt.

"Daddy, Mommy was very mad at you. She went away."

"That's. . .that's probably right."

"She cried."

Mulder bit his lip, then cleared his throat. "I didn't mean to make her
cry."

"You made her leave?"

"I suppose I helped."

"Why?"

"I don't know, baby. I don't know. Mommy is just very . . . far away."

"Yeah. Sometimes I don't know where she goes."

Mulder glanced at her in surprise. "Where do you think she goes?"

"To a nice place, like Ohio."

Mulder's eyebrow quirked despite the seriousness with which she'd said
Ohio, as if it was a beautiful and holy place.

"Ohio?"

"Yes. Where it snows on Christmas every year."

"Oh, I see. Why do you think Mommy goes to Ohio?"

"Because of the babies."

Mulder fiddled with her hair, pushing it aside, pulling it back,
nervous.

"The babies?"

"The dead ones before me."

Mulder gaped at her reply, but realized he should have known this.
They'd brought Grace up knowing who she was, and what she was.

A miracle.

"You think she goes to Ohio to visit them?"

She giggled. "No, silly. Dead babies aren't in Ohio. They're in heaven."

"Oh. So why Ohio?"

"Because it *snows*," she said, as if everyone should know that.

"Snow reminds Mommy of dead babies?"

"Yes. It's cold and soft and peaceful, like heaven. You know what,
Daddy?"

Mulder shook his head. No telling with this kid.

"I think Mommy wants to go to heaven."

Mulder felt his throat tighten, trying to place her meaning with what he
knew. She surely didn't want to kill herself. . .

"Why's that?"

"She wants to see them. I think Mommy will get to go to heaven. I think
she's an angel."

"I suppose she is, Gracie. I suppose she is."

"I'm still not tired Daddy. Mommy's going to call."

Mulder looked at the clock.

Nine already.

If she was going to call, she should have thirty minutes ago.
~~~~

Scully woke in an explosive lunge off the bathroom floor.

"Grace," she whispered, and scrambled for the door, blindly checking for
the time.

Ten-thirty.

Dialing the phone, nails tapping nervously on her thigh, Scully prayed
Grace wasn't waiting up, wasn't disappointed in her.

She'd let enough people down already.

"Mulder," came the immediate reply.

She swallowed her frustration and answered back. "It's me. . .uh,
Scully."

"I still recognize your voice on the phone, Scully."

She shivered. Saying "it's me" always implied something more friendly,
more personal than what they had right now.

"I - I fell asleep. Is Grace asleep?"

"Yeah, but when I tell her you called, she'll be mad at me for not
letting her talk to you. Let me get her."

She heard him carry the cordless into Grace's room, heard her mumbles as
she came awake, then the little squeal as she grabbed the phone.

"Mommy!" she yelled and Scully could practically feel her mighty hug
through the line.

"Hey, my miracle baby."

"Mommy, I miss you."

"I miss you lots, Gracie."

"Are you coming home tomorrow?"

"No, Gracie, probably not."

"But Daddy misses you too."

She wanted to say something spiteful, wanted to say 'well he should have
thought of that' but she knew Grace did not need that.

And it was partly her fault too. She'd never been good at talking about
things.

"I. . .I know, baby. I miss Daddy too."

And she realized she'd never said anything more true than that.
~~~~

When Mulder heard her words, coming through the phone line like the
sound of bells or gunshots, he knew, knew right then.

He had to make this work, had to fix this rift between them.

When Grace had fallen asleep to the sound of her mother's voice, Mulder
grabbed the phone.

"Scully."

He heard her quick intake, imagined he could even feel her tears, wet on
his cheeks.

"Scully. Just come over tomorrow. Or the next day. We can talk, try to
work on this."

"I thought you were throwing me out," her barb came back melancholy,
bitter, and somehow desolate.

"We just need some time apart."

"If you really think that, then maybe I better not come over."

"Please Scully. Just come see Gracie. She's been begging for you all
afternoon."

"It was her choice, Mulder."

"I know. I don't blame you for that. Just come see her. If you don't
even try to see her, I will blame-"

"Shut up, Mulder. You know perfectly well how much I want my daughter."

"Our daughter."

"Unfortunately, yes."

He sighed. She was angry; she deserved to be.

"Then tomorrow. She'll be ready, you can take her somewhere."

"Thanks for the privelege, Mulder. Will you be dispensing holidays
next?"

"No. No, we'll be okay then."

"I thought we were okay. . ." she whispered, then wished she'd shut her
mouth.

"I'm sorry," he choked, then hung up the phone.

Sinking to the floor, he rubbed his tired eyes.

He just wanted to cry.

Forever.

Maybe move to Ohio.
~~~~
~~~~
~~~~

It seemed Grace would take forever getting her things together.

Scully sucked on her lower lip, then stopped, recognizing the look in
Mulder's eyes. She really wasn't here to aggravate him further.

"Scully, why don't you stay here for awhile?"

"What do you mean?"

"We could sleep in separate rooms. I could sleep on the couch-"

"Mulder. I really can't live with you right now."

"Scully, I thought this would be the right move. I didn't know how much
it would hurt Grace, or you."

"Damnit Mulder." she hissed, shutting her eyes against the tears. "You
weren't really thinking of that before. Why start now?"

"Before?"

"How many women in all, Mulder? Just tell me that. Honestly. I deserve
to know, to have the truth from you just this last time."

He turned away. "No, Scully. That's not going to help any."

"So there were others? Beside the two in the bar."

He growled, wanting to curse at her, wanting to just let her have it, to
pummel her with his own fear and hurt and sickness.

"How many Mulder? Are you going to tell me truth, or is that too much to
expect now? Can I trust you while we work even? Will you be ready to do
your job, or will I have to come get you from some hooker's claws?"

"There were no hookers, Scully. You think I'd screw some hooker and then
come home and screw you?"

She blanched, pulled back into herself again.

He realized he'd said the entirely wrong thing.

"So. . .you actually had the nerve to do that?" Her words were
pain-filled, agonized, as if her worst fears had come true.

"No. No I didn't, Scully. I. . ." He stopped, broke down, slumping to
the couch. "Just one other. Just one."

She nodded as if she'd expected it, but truth was, she hadn't. Hadn't
wanted it either.

"Who?" she said softly, knowing by the extreme guilt covering his face
that it was someone she knew.

"Scully, this isn't going to help us any here-"

"Who. Is. It."

He sighed and then stood. "I won't tell you that, Scully. Not with Grace
right upstairs."

"And sure as hell not when she's down here. Tell me now. I want to know
the truth Mulder. After all this time. . .I just need the truth from
you."

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, then massaged his nose, not
looking her in the eye.

"Diana."

He glanced up only when she made a noise, and found her swaying, eyes
clenched tightly shut, throat working as if she'd throw up.

He wanted to help her, but figured he had no right to touch her.

"Di. . .Diana," she choked out, then sat in the chair behind her,
breathing irregularly through her nose.

He could say nothing. It had been wrong, and a long time ago, before
Grace even, and something he had thought he'd been able to get over.

He was just all wrong for Scully. Hurt her every chance that came to
him. How could he deserve the perfectness of their relationship - even
when it was far from perfect?

"Did Phoebe Green come back in town too, Mulder? Or is that it?"

He felt sick now. "No, just Krycek, Scully. That's all. Oh, and I
screwed an alien too. How about that?"

When her face turned away, he realized she'd been putting on a false
mask of anger, while really dying inside.

Her shoulders shook and he felt rotten and worthless, making her cry,
his strong, strong woman.

"Damnit, Scully. I'm sorry, shit, I'm sorry."

Her back at once stiffened, and she dried her eyes, pulling herself
together more quickly than he liked. If she was crying in front of him,
then at least she was opening up.

"Just, oh God. Just one more thing." she said softly.

He glanced to the stairs, made sure Grace was still out of hearing.

"One thing."

She nodded and composed herself. "Why?"

It was a question ripped from her soul, taken from the deepest shadowy
place within her, and offered to him like a whispered plea for more.

He buried his head in his hands and resolved to tell her the truth.

"In all honesty, which I assume you still want here. . .I don't really
know. Part of it was because I needed to talk to you about everything,
and I felt I couldn't. Part of it, I was tired of trying so hard for
you. Trying all the time to walk on egg shells about having kids, trying
to be sensitive when it hurt too much for you, trying to be there for
you when you weren't even there for me. I know that's what love is
anyway, and I thought. . .I thought I loved you, but nothing was
working. Nothing *is* working."

She made a noise in her throat, like a rabbit caught in a trap, then
wiped at her nose with the back of her hand.

"You're right. Nothing is working. I think we ought to leave it at
that."

"I don't want to leave it at that, but if you're not willing to change,
to talk to me, what can I do?"

She sighed. "Don't blame this one me, Mu-"

He gave a primitive yell in response, cutting her off. "This is my
fault, and your fault. Both of ours. I don't know about you, but I tried
awfully hard for this family, put my life and my whole being into this
family, and I am not giving it up. I'm not willing to have Gracie for
half the time, with three weeks in the summer and every other weekend. I
want her always. I want you always."

She closed her eyes, and he begged God these were the words she needed
to hear, to make her stay.

"How can I live with you Mulder? How can you live with me? We just don't
work anymore."

"No. We work just fine. We don't communicate worth anything. . ."

"What's this right here?"

"A fight, Scully. This is called a fight."

She gave him a tiny smile, one that flashed only in her eyes, and only
for a moment.

"Personally, I don't want to wait for everything to go wrong before we
talk."

"I don't see how this can be saved, Mulder. It's quite painfully clear
you don't need me for more than mother to your child-"

"Scully," he said, shocked, horrified. "Grace is your child too-"

"She's not, Mulder. She is and then she isn't. You know that. You
believe that anyway. Do you know how much it hurts to see that
wistfulness in your eyes when you look at her, knowing I can't give you
that?"

He caught hold of her arms, yanking her to face him.

"Probably just as much as it hurts knowing it's my fault you can't have
children, my fault and nothing else."

With those words frozen between them, the air chilled and frosted, their
breath turned painful and rough, and he stared down into her.

Until Grace jumped down the last three steps and almost on his feet.

"Ready Mommy. Ready, ready ready."

Scully gratefully took her daughter's hand, then her back pack, and led
her away from Mulder, away from the deadly intensity she could feel in
him, in her too.

They were going to say things that could never be repaired.

She turned to him before leaving, sunglasses pushed down over her eyes
to ward off the bright winter sun, to ward off Mulder's gaze.

"I still want to work with you, Mulder. Don't say anything more that
could jeopardize that too."

On those words, she walked away, Grace dancing around her like a
snowflake.

He realized Grace had not kissed him good bye.
~~~~
~~~~
~~~~

He was shaving when it suddenly hit him.

Grace.

Where was he going to take her while he was at work?

Usually, he and Scully would take turns driving her the twenty minutes
out of the way to Margaret Scully's house, where she played away the
morning, slept in the afternoon, and waited until they arrived. 

He was fairly certain he could *not* face her mother at this point. Not
if Scully had told her any of what was going on.

He was just beginning to think this was a 'take your daughter to work
day' when his phone shrilled at him, causing his hand to jump and nick
his chin.

Sighing, he snatched it up, answering with an almost coherent reply.

"Fox," came the voice.

He froze, could feel every nerve in his body scream.

"Ah. . .Mrs. Scully," he stammered.

"I called to let you know that despite what's going on, Fox, I still
want to see my granddaughter every day."

He sank with relief onto the bed, the vast huge empty bed.

"I really, really appreciate this, Mrs. Scully. . .I wasn't too thrilled
about having to take her in with me."

"We can't have that at all. Just come on by at your regular time, Fox."

"Thank you, Mrs. Scully."

But she had already hung up. He wondered how big and generous of a heart
the woman must have, to be calling him and bailing him out after what
he'd done.
~~~~

"Gramma!" Grace shouted upon entering the house, her bag slung over one
shoulder and still thumping the floor.

"Hey, pumpkin," she replied, scooping her up for a hug.

Mulder licked his lips and hedged for the door.

Mrs. Scully saw him trying to slip away and shooed Grace to the bathroom
to wash her hands so they could make cookies.

"Fox," she said softly.

He glanced to her and the guilt shining right through his eyes was
blinding.

"Fox, do you want to talk about any of this?"

He issued a kind of strangled cry and shook his head.

"You know, it's not a very good thing to keep inside."

"I didn't mean to hurt her!" he said explosively, as if the words could
not be contained any longer.

Mrs. Scully's face fell, her eyes showed her own grief. "I know, Fox.
People make mistakes. But with Dana, trust is everything. I think you
know that."

"I know, I know. . ."

He sank to the chair, rubbing his eyes with his hands. He looked like he
hadn't slept, or even really laid down.

She waited patiently, knowing it would be awhile before Grace came back
in; she liked washing her hands with the sparkly soap in the bathroom.

"I. . .I can't ever talk to her, Mrs. Scully. I *need* to talk to her;
she's my best friend. . .and I can't."

She watched the man before her, contorted with his own guilt and grief,
trying to palce these feelings somewhere between it all.

"Is that wrong?" he asked suddenly.

She shook her head. "No, Fox. It's not wrong."

She wanted to tell him that Dana wanted to talk to him just as much,
that her daughter ached to be able to say the things that hurt the most,
but she couldn't tell him that. It wasn't hers to say.

"There are just some walls we never got past, I guess," he said softly.

"I guess so. Maybe it's up to you two to get past those walls, once and
for all."

He nodded. "I should have tried that, instead of. . ."

Mulder blushed furiously, would not look up at her.

"Fox, I know what you've done. And you know what you've done. Let's not
let it choke us."

He nodded, relieved, still unable to look in her eyes. It wasn't an
aplogy, but it was close enough.

"I'd better go. Make sure my desk is still there."

He meant it as a joke, but realized it could very well be true.

She could push him out easily. While they investigated every slightly
paranormal case that came across their desks, they hadn't had the
X-Files in six years.

Just as he reached the door, Mrs. Scully grasped his arm.

"Make her talk to you, Fox. Make her talk."
~~~~

When his desk came into sight, and he saw her, sitting behind her own
desk, he felt a weight rise from him.

Her fingers tapped along the key board and there were no new cases, of
which he was supremely grateful.

Being on the road would not solve this.

As he watched her, he took in every detail of her face, looking for
signs that she had slept just as little as him, that she had spent the
night crying just as he had.

Her face was a mask.

He felt his throat tighten convulsively.

He'd forgotten that. Forgotten how closed off and cold she could be.

He hadn't seen that mask, those walls, in six years.

He missed being able to look in her eyes and know every thought, every
single struggle played out just for him, just to let him in.

So maybe they'd never talked about anything, but at least they'd had
that, the silent communication of their unguarded eyes.

And she'd replaced those walls quickly, efficiently.

Except for the ring. She was still wearing his ring.

He felt a surge of unexpected hope at the sight.

He still wore hers, on a chain around his neck, a slight bump at the
knot of his tie. They had kept their marriage very low profile, told no
one at the office, not even Skinner. She wore her wedding ring on the
wrong hand, and he wore his on a chain.

While they didn't hide the fact, the also didn't flaunt it either. He
wasn't sure anyone would believe him anyway.

Hell, he hardly believed it either.

He hadn't even asked her to marry him really, just told her he was going
to do it, going to take her away somewhere and elope.

Funny thing was, he'd been deadly serious, and she had seen that and
they'd just gone and done it.

No dates, no hand holding stage, no odd late night good bye kisses. 

Just the bond, the tight innertwining of their lives in every respect
but one, and finally, that had come about too.

She still wore his ring.

He could hope.
~~~~

When Scully got to her mother's, Grace was there, playing.

It shocked her, made her feel sick and then happy.

"Gracie?"

Her little Scully eyebrows shot up at the sound and she turned,
shrieking.

"Mommy!"

She gathered her little girl into a tight embrace, Grace's energy and
honest need of her almost overwhelming.

Scully heard the door behind her open, then close again, and just by the
change in the room, the smell or temperature or something, she knew it
was Mulder.

Grace's eyes were squeezed tight, her arms so strongly holding to her
mother that she was almost choking Scully, and she missed her father's
entrance.

Scully walked to the couch and sat down with Grace, hugging her, talking
softly, reveling in the feel of her baby girl.

She realized that no matter whose she was biologically, Grace would
always be hers, forever.

"Scully," came a wrenched voice.

She looked up, saw him there, standing just where she expected him to
be, his eyes tight and drawn, looking as if he had been crying.

She knew he had because so had she.

She closed her eyes and buried her face in Grace's hair.
~~~~
~~~~
~~~~

Dana Scully was weary.

Her feet throbbed in her shoes, blood pounded through her head, and her
muscles clenched under her skin. She wished everything would just go
away for about ten hours, let her sleep without interruptions or
memories or dreams or crying.

Grace danced around the living room, talking out loud as she watched
television and played with My Little Pony. 

Scully knew this side of her came from Melissa, and not Mulder. Melissa
was the one who rambled on and talked nonstop and used to make the
entire house her play room. 

Mulder was a bit too lazy to be galloping around the room, or doing more
than three things at once.

Unless he put his mind to it.

Like having Grace in the first place. Using eggs Melissa had donated so
long ago Margaret had said it was a phase, they had carefully underwent
procedures and surgery to make their baby girl. 

The eggs of her own that Mulder had managed to save had been used up -
on guesses and mistakes and miscarriages and failures. Her last chance
had been only three months along before the blood came rushing from her
in a great wave, at four in the morning, with her sobbing and Mulder
sobbing and nothing they could do.

Depressed, certain nothing would work, God have given her Grace.

Grace.

Her angel and her baby and such a part of her and Mulder that she
couldn't imagine what life had been before her, except the memories of
tears and trials and no triumphs.

Which was why she never wanted to talk about any of it, never wanted to
reopen that still tender wound and expose all the horribleness there.

Couldn't Mulder understand that?

She shifted on the couch.

It was making her dizzy just to watch her little girl, spiraling and
neighing and pretending to be the mother horse scolding her babies.

She closed her eyes and wished Mulder would go away.

But it had begun to sleet outside, the temperature rapidly dropping at
about six thirty, just as they had arrived at her mother's.

She definitely didn't want either of them out in the weather, with the
overpasses slick and slippery, and the ice coating everything.

Still, she wished Mulder would leave her alone. She was her most
defenseless when she was exhausted, and he knew that.

Suddenly, Grace came to a halt, dropping her Pony, and slumped to the
floor, curling up.

And about three seconds later, she was asleep.

Muting the television, Scully smiled and moved to pick her up, taking
her daughter up in her arms and letting her snuggle in close.

She hadn't held Gracie like this since she was sick with bronchitis, and
it felt good to have her pressed so close, making slight noises as she
breathed.

Leaning down, Scully inhaled her scent, the combination of Margaret
Scully's love, baby shampoo, playing all day, and crayons that made her
eyes close.

The couch  offered a good retreat, and she settled easily into its
thick, soft cushions, clicking off the light next to her and leaning her
head back.

She listened to her baby breathe in the darkness, the lamplight from the
street washing over them in soft hues of gold and grey, and the
television's silent blue strobing illuminating Gracie's face.

She sighed, content, relaxed, and wistful, remembering all the times she
and Mulder had sat in the darkness of the nursery, watching their baby
sleep, awed at how she had come from them.

Awed at simply how she had *come.*

Her arms loosened, and Grace turned slightly, pushing her face into her
mother's stomach.

Dana closed her eyes and let sleep seduce her.
~~~~

Mulder sat in the dining room, watching the rain sleeting against the
window panes, ocassionally shimmering as the street lights caught its
descent.

He laid his head on the crook of his arm, tilted to see the rain, the
darkness staining him.

He heard the television suddenly cease blaring and then Margaret Scully
came to the doorway, her body reflected in the window and framed by
light as it trickled in from the kitchen.

"You can stay here tonight, Fox. We'll put Grace in with Dana and you
can have that extra bedroom."

He nodded and lifted his head. "Thanks, Mrs. Scully."

She stayed there, eyeing him as he sighed and rested his head back on
his arm, tracing patterns in the lace tablecloth with a fingernail.

"Fox, anytime you two need to talk, I'll be glad to take Grace."

He smiled a bit. "I'll be sure to take you up on that. First, though,
I've got to get Scully to stay in one place."

Suddenly he felt her hands brush his shoulders, then squeeze his neck.

"This will work out, you'll see. Give her some time to find herself
again, but don't give up, and don't stop letting her know you still love
her. She needs that reassurance more than anything else."

He lifted his head, steepled his hands to his forehead, and gave out a
long, tired breath.

"Let me go say good night," he whispered and pushed out of the chair.
~~~~

The living room was black as he stood there, then it suddenly turned
bright blue as the television came back from commercial.

By its light, he could see them both asleep on the couch, Grace wrapped
in Scully's arms like a baby, her breathing steady and noisy.

He crept forward, then hunkered down by them, reaching out a shaky hand.

His fingers glanced down Grace's long, oval face, then moved firmly
along her forehead, to her hairline, then down her nose. Her soft skin
was like Scully's, he thought, and her lips turned into the same almost
frown.

He gently touched Scully's hand, following the curve of her finger,
along the ridge of her nail, then along her thumb and finally to her
wrist.

She stirred slightly, but her eyes remained closed. He gave Grace a kiss
on the cheek, then moved upward, and his lips glanced against hers.

He sank to the floor.

"What have I done?" he whispered, taking a hand Grace had flung from the
embrace.

"What have I done to my family?"
~~~~

She woke when his presence filled the room, when his body was suddenly
very near to hers.

But she was too tired to open her eyes, too exhausted to speak.

She felt his touch, like a slow sensual blaze of heat, slipping along
her hand. She felt herself sigh and stir, reacting easily to his
fingertips, feeling the arousal blush her skin.

His kiss was feather soft, gentle, unexpected.

And badly needed.

Something she tingled from, something that healed her a bit, something
that let her begin to trust him again.

Then his words, sharp and bitter and sad, wrought in pain from his soul
and sent to hers, fresh and raw and aching.

She opened her eyes, saw him slumped there, tears trailing down his
cheeks, one hand clutching Grace.

How badly she wanted to reach for him, even after everything.

So she did.

She was too weary to stop.

He jerked in surprise, then took the hand she offered, squeezing it,
placing a soft kiss to her palm.

Remaining on the floor, sensing that she still needed space, he held
tightly to her one hand, and to Grace's, smiling despite the tears.

"I'm sorry, Scully. I'm so sorry."

She took a slow breath, letting it out in time to Grace's snuffles.

"I forgive you Mulder. . ."

And yet, she still ached.

She still felt sick.
~~~~
~~~~
~~~~

It was a little chilly in the room, her fingers curled tightly between
her knees to warm them up, and the blanket tucked firmly around Grace's
sleeping form.

Scully shivered and edged closer to her daughter, putting an arm lightly
over her body, kissing the back of her head as it rested on the pillow.

Grace had slept with them when she was sick, her own shivering and
fevered limbs jerking in her sleep, keeping both her and Mulder awake
the entire night.

He'd been so tender, so concerned and hurt by Grace's sickness.

So afraid too, even though it was only bronchitis.

She wished she had him now, breathing loudly over her shoulder to peek
at Grace, his lips slipping down to kiss her softly.

Still cold, she gave up on sleep, despite the weariness tingling through
her whole body, and slipped from between the sheets.

Drawing her arms across her chest, she stood still in the darkness,
goose bumps rising across her skin, and her toes curling as they met the
icey wooden floor.

She pushed open the door and walked softly down the hall, past the room
Mulder was sleeping in, and to the staircase, breathing in the fragrance
of old wood and pine-scented cleaning solution.

She paused at the kitchen door, then pushed it open, intending to warm
up some milk to help her sleep.

She moved soundlessly through the tiled floor to the fridge, then
stopped abruptly by the table, where Mulder sat, slouched over.

"Mulder?"

His head did not come up from the tabletop, and she glided over to him,
lightly placing her hand to the back of his neck.

"Mulder?" she said again, her thumb rubbing along his hair, absorbing
his warmth through her chilled fingers.

He jerked up, blinked and looked at her.

"Scully?"

"What are you doing down here?" she asked, moving to sit across from
him.

"Couldn't sleep."

She gave him an ironic quirk of her lips, the closest to a smile he'd
seen in years.

"You were doing a pretty good job from what I saw."

He gave a sheepish grin and pushed the coffee mug to her. "I put some
stuff in it."

She frowned. "What *stuff*, Mulder?"

He sighed. "Nothing, Scully. Nothing."

She rose, began rummaging through the medicine cabinet, frowning, bottom
lip held between her teeth.

She found the bottle, pulled it out. "Mulder. This is my mother's. It
has specific dosage on it."

"Yeah, well. Don't worry. I put in more than it called for."

"Mulder!"

"She's tiny, Scully. I've taken this stuff before, believe me. What your
mother takes would barely even faze me. You know that. You're a doctor."

She sighed. "Mulder, that's not the point. It's very easy to become
addicted to this. Mulder, it's Demerol!"

"And I feel *no* pain," he grinned, raising his eyebrows.

"And you feel just a bit drunk too."

"Yes, and that's the wonderful side effect. You know, you could be a
hallucination for all I know."

"Well, I'm not."

"Oh. Darn. This isn't going to be pretty at all."

He seemed to be talking to himself, and she gave a long suffering sigh,
then watched him bury his head back in his arms.

"Mulder," she said softly.

His head came up. "Ahh, there's my vision coming to get me now."

"Mulder." Her words were sharper this time.

"Okay, never mind. It *is* really you."

Letting out a tired and frustrated breath, Scully sat down across from
him.

"Mulder, listen to me. I don't want you taking this again, all right?"

"What do you care?"

She bit back the hurt and shook her head.

"Mulder," she started.

"Scully. Not to. . .interrupt. . .I can hardly. . .think. . ." he said
softly.

"That's okay. Don't think. I just want you to promise me you won't take
any Demerol to help you sleep."

"Promise? I thought you didn't trust me," he breathed, his breath
spiking across the table.

She closed her eyes. "I do trust you, Mulder. I trust you not to take
this again if you promise me not to. I trust that you'll never be truly
committed to me. I even trust that you probably won't feel you can tell
me everything-"

"Hold on. Hold on." 

His sleepy eyes came up to regard her angrily, his hand raising as if to
stop her words.

"Don't. Don't even begin to delude yourself into thinking that *I* was
the one who couldn't trust someone else enough to tell them anything.
Scully, I begged you to talk to me."

He rose angrily, pushing away the medicine's hypnotic suggestions of
sleep and dreamlessness.

She followed him. "What are you talking about? Did you ever come out and
say, Scully we need to talk. No. Not once. I thought you didn't care."

"Care? Not care? If I recall, *I* was the one who took you to the
hospital that morning when you started bleeding, *I* was the one who
stayed beside you, who dragged myself to work to make sure we both
wouldn't get fired, who came during my lunch break to take you home, who
tried to get you to *talk* to me about all this."

She stood gaping at him, more angry than upset, more furious than
touched.

"You *left* me there, Mulder. All I wanted was for you to hold me, and
you *left*." 

"You *made* me!" he roared, eyes on fire, fists clenching. "You told me
leave, you were *fine*. Our *baby* had just *died* and you told me to
leave. I hovered all over you, Scully, sick and feeling like I had
swallowed razors, and you just lay there, you pulled away from me every
time I tried to get too close, *you* left *me* out in the cold."

He wasn't expecting it.

She punched him.

In the jaw.

Hard.

He felt the pain explode from his head to his legs, centered there at
his mandible, the rays of it like fire slicing through his skin and
bones.

Staggering, he lifted a hand, maybe to ward off another blow, maybe to
beg her *not* to hit him again, and sank into the chair.

He winced as he felt her hands over him.

"I'm sorry, oh God, Mulder. I'm so sorry. I . . .I didn't mean to hit
you. Not ever."

Eyes closed, he pushed her hands away from him.

"I'm all right."

She stood there, awkwardly in front of him, watching him gently probe
his tender jaw.

He looked up at her, seeing the shame brimming in her eyes, and sighed.

"I guess I deserved that," he said softly.

Two tears made duel tracks down her cheeks. 

"No, no. You don't deserve that at all. I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm so sorry.
I promised myself I'd never make you feel as bad as your mother and
father did. . .I. . ."

She stopped speaking, watching him regard her, wishing she hadn't even
started this conversation, wishing she had stayed in bed next to Grace.

He couldn't believe she had actually hit him.

And not even for a good reason. Just anger that had to be released.

"I'm going to go to bed, Scully."

She bit her lip and moved next to him. "Let me see your eyes, Mulder."

He slipped back into routine, letting her check for a concussion,
following her finger with his eyes.

She nodded and turned to the fridge. "Let me get you some ice."

He nodded, holding his jaw with a light touch.

"Good idea. Wouldn't want to have Grace ask me why my face was all
swollen."

Scully clamped down on the guilt that welled in her and pulled out a
tray of cubes, emptying half of it into a plastic bag, then wrapping
that in a dish towel.

He took it from her with a nod, then moved to the living room. 

She supposed he felt better sleeping on the couch. Old habits and all. . .

"Mulder?"

He turned to face her.

"I'm sorry. About back then. About not listening to you when you were
hurting just as much as I was. . .I should have reached for you instead
of retreating."

His eyes twinkled a bit at her. "If this is your idea of reaching out,
I'm kind of glad you didn't."

She sighed. "You're going to make me feel very guilty over this, aren't
you?"

"Whatever works," he whispered and slipped away from the kitchen, back
into the living room.

She watched him leave, then glanced over at the Demerol, sitting there
innocently.

She scowled.

No one was innocent here.
~~~~

Mulder winced as the ice made his jaw tense, then sat down on the couch,
relishing the solitude and the darkness.

He sighed and wondered again if perhaps he deserved her punch. Probably
so, considering his less than honorable behavior.

He'd been trying to talk to her, trying to work some of it out, trying
to somehow make her understand why all this had happened.

Maybe trying to figure it out himself.

Of course, the conversation was now over.

He should forget trying to reconcile things with her, even though a
thousand punches to the jaw would not deter him from getting his family
back.

Only her stubborn insistence not to *ever* discuss things could keep
them apart.

That and the *affair,* he reminded himself.

How stupid could he have been? Diana, of all people. 

He groaned and laid down on the couch.

He jerked when he felt ice cold fingers brush his forehead.

Opening his eyes, he saw her again, still in the short sleeved
nightgown, still cold.

"Mulder," she whispered, and then sank to her knees beside him.

He just stared at her.

"I figured that by both of us going back to bed, we wouldn't get
anything accomplished. I'm not falling asleep anytime soon. How about
you?"

He sighed and sat up again. "Well, that hit just about wiped out the
Demerol."

She settled onto the couch next to him, still far away enough to not be
touching him.

"So," she said, taking a deep breath. "Let's talk."

He sat there in silence, watching her chew her lip, also silent.

There was the hum of the fridge, the snick of the wooden floorboards as
the house settled, and the low howl of the wind along the house.

She sighed. "Mulder, I don't know how to start."

"Maybe you should hit me again. Then we might both feel better."

She shivered. "Mulder. No. It was wrong for me to hit you. You're my. . . 
my husband. I. . .it was wrong."

"I was wrong to push it."

"No, I think you're right. We never talk. I was being pretty selfish
then. Was. . ." 

She paused, then glanced full force at him, her eyes swimming in the
start of tears.

"Was that when you saw Diana? After that last chance failed?" she
whispered.

She was going to make him talk about it. She was going to rip it from
him and make him hurt her with the truth.

"Yes."

She nodded. "Maybe. . .maybe you should tell me about that."

"Maybe I shouldn't."

She pursed her lips and looked back up at him.

"I think I need to know this."

He sighed, shifting on the couch, not looking to her.

"It was a mistake. All of it. I went to work, was pretty miserable.
Diana called about some X-File, wanting to know where the hell I had
*filed* the thing, and of course, I told her wrong. On purpose."

He gave her a half grin.

She didn't smile back.

"She asked if maybe we could have lunch, talk about the file. The rules
against us have been kind of lax lately, and she said she didn't think
we'd get in trouble going over it."

He paused and looked at her; she was breathing somewhat irregularly.

"I said no. I had to get you at the hospital, I wanted to talk to you.
Hell, I just wanted to curl up next to you and not ever wake up again.
When we got home, I thought about asking you to stop doing this. To stop
trying. I didn't want it to hurt so much anymore. For you, or for me.
But you were tired, and went to bed, and I went in to just hold you. . .
and you pulled away."

She was crying noiselessly, nobly he thought, her tears shiny tracks of
moonsilver in the faint starlight coming through the living room window.

"I know it's no excuse, but I felt abandoned. . .Or maybe I'm trying to
make myself look better in the retelling, who knows. Maybe if I had just
stayed at home, and waited, it would have been all okay. Maybe you would
have turned to me, maybe. . ."

He looked over at her and knew the answer by the guilt shining in her
eyes.

She would not have turned to him.

"I went back to work to hide. And she called again, asking about dinner.
Really needed my input. I was grateful to get my mind off it all. We got
drunk. . .and . . . that's the story."

He sighed and refused to look at her, refused to meet her eyes or watch
her struggle not to hurt.

He'd hurt her so bad in this.

Sneaking a look at her despite his fear, he felt like he'd been punched
again.

Her head was balanced precariously on her drawn up knees, tears wetting
the fabric of her night gown, her shoulders shaking in silent agony.

Wishing she'd accept his comfort, he simply watched, waiting for her
judgment, waiting for some kind of miracle in all the bad that he'd
done.

She turned her head to see him. "That was. . .the only time?"

She prayed he'd lie to her if the truth wasn't something she wanted.

"Only time. I promise, Scully. If you never believe me again, believe
that. I felt awful, disgusting. I couldn't. . .couldn't believe what I'd
done. I put it behind me, promised myself, promised you, I'd never do it
again."

"But you did."

"No. Not with her. And the two in the bar, not all the way. Which I
guess really doesn't count a whole hell of a lot, huh?"

She shook her head. "Not much."

He sighed. "I don't know how to explain it."

She licked her lips, rubbed the tear tracks from her face. "I don't
think I could handle another explanation tonight."

He nodded, feeling beaten, broken. "I don't think I could either."

She rested her chin on her knees, shivered.

Seeing this, he pulled the quilt from the floor and draped it around
her, tucking it in tight.

Her breath caught, then she let out a sort of sob and fell against him,
clutching his shirt.

He immediately put his arms around her, grateful for the miracle of her
action.

"I want to hate you, Mulder. I want to hate you for doing that to us,
but I can't. I can't."

He choked on a mixture of shame and relief. "I'm glad. Maybe we have a
chance."

She nodded and closed her eyes, then pulled back away from him.

Gently, he wiped the tears from her cheeks, the sorrow in his eyes
making her settle into his warmth.

"Why don't you go back to bed, Scully? Get warm."

She nodded, part of her disappointed he hadn't tried anything, part of
her grateful.

It would be a bit crude to try anything after what he had just told her.

And she wouldn't have let him either.

"Good night, Scully."

Leaning forward, he dragged the other blanket off the floor. 

He was surprised when her lips brushed his forehead, and he glanced up
at her as she rose.

"Good night, Mulder."

She vanished into a pool of darkness at the stairs.
~~~~
~~~~
~~~~

She drove.

Grace stayed at her mother's and Scully and Mulder took the same car,
theorizing that it was safer for them to go together, and Scully was a
better driver when it came to hazardous conditions anyway.

They sat in a kind of final silence for the better half of the trip,
Scully focused intently on the road, the crisp whiteness of sleet and
ice and maybe snow that sparkled in the morning light.

Then he made a humming noise with his lips that signalled he wanted to
say something important.

"So, how is it that you're such a better driver in the snow?"

"I learned to drive in Alaska, Mulder," she said calmly, her voice
catching that far away quality that people have when they try to
concentrate on keeping everyone alive and off the side of the road.

"Alaska!"

"Hm. Yes. Fifteen. Dad took me out in the middle of nowhere and said
this was a horrible place to learn, but it was kind of a promise."

"A promise?"

"He promised to teach me to drive the very next time he had shore leave.
This was in Maine, then we moved, and he came back and we were on base
in Barrow, Alaska, which is the most north you can get."

She saw him frown out of the corner of his eye. 

"There's a Naval Base up there?"

She shook her head. "Um, not really. It's called the Naval Arctic
Research Laboratory. I'm not sure what Dad was doing there, something
about a new line of sub, I think."

"Subs in Alaska and you, learning to drive in a field of snow. The man
must have been crazy."

She smiled. "Now that I think about it, yeah. We were there from March
to September, and summer was supposed to be. . .well, summer. Hot.
Instead it was about negative 8 as the high in March, and let's see,
about 24 in May, and 46 in July. I think that was one of the worst
summers of my life."

He grinned. "I've had a couple of those."

They fell silent again and slid into a parking spot in front of the
Hoover building, Scully not willing to risk the multi-tiered parking
garage.

Getting out, Mulder took her hand as she locked the doors, his face
soft.

"Thanks, Scully. I've found out there's a lot about you I don't know
about."

She stilled, fingers icey like the road, but her eyes warm.

"I think we need to fix it," he said.
~~~~

She sat at her desk, bone tired from the exhausting night, from the
intense concentration she needed to drive.

Scully thought of her father teaching her to drive, of his ultimate
trust that she could do it right, even with the snow. He always trusted
her, more than her brothers and sister. She could never be sure why.

And he'd told her, over and over, it's only worth it if you had to work
hard at it. She'd been sitting in the car, freezing, the heater never
quite completely warm in their old Ford station wagon, his huge bulk in
the seat beside her as she had complained. It was too hard, too icey,
too *Alaska* and she wanted to go home.

He knew she'd be miserable if she quit, knew her older brother and
sister would tease her for giving up.

He had made her stay out there, in the cold and soft sleet, made her
finish what she'd started.

And it had been worth it.

Was Mulder worth it?

Maybe not so much Mulder alone being worth it, but her family, her
little girl who needed a father, needed Mulder as her father.

They were worth it, worth the coldness and the sleet and the days when
she simply ached for what had happened, for how she'd closed up inside.

She *liked* how Mulder had made her feel, how his love made her feel
alive and made her feel wanted and needed, and simply, made her *feel.*

Now, she didn't want to feel. And yet, she did. She wanted the goodness
they'd had, the sense that they were digging out a little niche of
warmth amidst all the bad.

Oh, she was tired.

She wanted to lay her head down and simply stop thinking, stop being.

But she needed to think, needed to stop simply *re*acting, and instead,
act.

She needed to straighten out the thoughts cascading wildly through her
head and make some sense of all she felt about this.

First thing:

Mulder had slept with Diana.

She muffled a an almost sob and glanced around at the rows of desks. No
one had noticed.

Maybe here wasn't the ideal spot. She stood, brushed her way past
another agent, and slipped down the hall to the bathrooms, needing space
and bright lights and cleanliness.

"Scully!"

She whipped around, facing Mulder, who had followed her out and into the
smaller hall that branched off into the men's and women's restrooms.

"Scully. I was thinking that maybe we could go straight home tonight,
leave Grace at your mother's and let us talk."

She gaped at him, confused.

"It's a shorter distance and I'd feel better if we weren't driving
around all night, no matter Alaska."

"You want us to talk tonight?" she asked, her back against the wall in
the hallway, the space between them small, too close.

"If you don't mind. Or in the morning. Saturday we can go and get Grace
if the weather's-"

"Wait, a second. Didn't we talk last night?"

He stared at her for a moment. "Don't tell me you think we're fine now."

"No, no we're not. But I really don't know what more can be said."

"I love you, Scully. I don't know what more I *can* say."

She turned her head, fighting tears and anger.

"It's not that easy, Mulder. You. . .we both made some pretty awful
choices, did some pretty wrong things to each other. I just don't see
how we can change those things. I mean, this is how I *am* and I don't
know how to change me."

"I don't want to change you."

"Then what's to stop this from happening again?"

He stared at her, hurt, angry, desperate.

"It won't happen again, Scully. It won't. We'll know what's going on and
we can prevent it."

She shook her head. "Come on, Mulder. You can come up with something
better than that."

It was almost as if they were battling theories again, her the skeptic,
he the believer.

Except this was a battle for their life.

"What's to stop it? Well, I don't know. Maybe the memory of this kind of
pain, this kind of emptiness I have right now. I think that would
definitely make me shut up and sit down."

She shook her head again, anything not to look in his pleading eyes.

"I suppose so. But Mulder, this is how I am. I'm not good with saying
how I feel, I'm not that kind of person. You want to talk about
everything and cry on my shoulder and have me cry with you, but I. . .I
just can't."

"Can't or won't? How much of this is your ultimate lack of trust in me?"

"I *trust* you, Mulder. I trust that you can't seem to find what you
need with me, I trust that you find completion in someone other than
me-"

"Oh, God, no."

He was bright-eyed, doubled over at the waist, like he wanted to throw
up.

"No, that's not how it goes, Scully. Not at all. I don't *sit* there and
think, oh, gee, she's everything Scully *isn't*. I. . .ahh. . ."

He stifled a scream with his fist, shaking. "I so, want to just curse
right now, but I'm not going to. . .god-. . .no."

She was shaking, watching him literally tear himself up over her words.

But she couldn't get it from her mind. "So how does it go, Mulder?"

"What? How does what go?"

The look on her face made him blanch and he pulled away. "No. No, I'm
not going there, Scully. It was a mistake, I was drunk. Which reminds me
never to drink ever again."

She sighed. "I told you it was bad for you."

He gave her a slight, tentative smile, kind of like holding hands with
your girlfriend for the first time.

Her fingers played with his lapel for a moment, then she looked into his
eyes. "Okay. We'll talk. I can do that."

He grinned again, this time more delighted than nervous, and suddenly
swooped down, planting his lips firmly on hers.

Two women chose that very moment to walk out of the bathroom, and
everyone sort of stood there, stunned, until Mulder moved away and let
them pass.

He looked back at her sheepishly, eyes guilty.

"Sorry. . .I. . ."

She just gave him a soft, barely there smile.

"That's gonna be all over the place by the time we get back," she said.

He nodded, then gave off a nervous laugh. "And they'll think it's the
first time."

She smiled. "Hm. . .yeah. That's not going to be any fun."

He nodded for her to lead the way and then stepped in behind her,
fingers firmly along the small of her back.

She relaxed. It made her feel safe.

As they entered the bullpen, with all the desks lined up, half the room
stood and applauded, the other half already standing and whistling.

Mulder blushed and ducked his head, and Scully merely walked back to her
desk, head held high.
~~~~

Rift 2: Reach

Dedication: This is for Melissa, and her wonderful insights, her
appreciation of pain, and her understanding of divorce and affairs.

~~~~
Reach
~~~~

"I will take from the Reach all that she has to teach, from the depths
of my soul. . ."
--"The Reach" Dan Fogelburg: The Innocent Age

~~~~

She licked her lips nervously as the car slid across the street, no
traction available as the black ice glinted dimly in the headlights.

She began praying and the wheels nosed the curb, then bumped to a stop.

Mulder let out a breath.

"I'm glad you're driving," he whispered.

She put it in reverse, easing out the slippery patch, then had to gun it
a bit to make it over an incline. Out of the ice for the moment, she
turned to the far left lane, then made her right hand turn from there.

She made a mental note to avoid the turn lanes.

Creeping down the highway, she spotted the sign for the interstate and
betted on the snowplows.

She relaxed a bit when they got to the expressway and the dangerous
black ice was mere slush, with white flakes covering it in the places
where cars had not travelled.

"I don't like this at all," she said, and tapped the accelerator up to
fifty.

"Uh, Scully? Should you be going that fast?"

"I have to Mulder. Everyone else is, and if I slow anymore, we'll cause
a wreck."

He merely grimaced and clutched the seatbelt.

She frowned into the darkness. "Trust me," she said softly.

She felt him shift next to her, then sigh. "I do."

The flakes were no longer fluffy and white, but sharp and smacking into
the windshield like little pieces of glass.

When they'd come out of the Federal Building, her car had a finely
sifted layer of ice and sleet covering it, and they'd have to chip away
with cheap plastic ice picks for the better part of an hour.

Finally, it'd been half way clear, and they'd warmed the car and
attempted to find the feeling in their fingers again.

Making her way along the side roads was actually easier than some of the
more heavily traficked streets, mainly because her tires could find
traction on the white piles of snow and ice, while the black patches
left her coasting.

She hated that feeling.

The almost free-for-all that the car did, the way it just slid across
and into a car, a curb, a patch of even worse ice. They were lucky they
weren't stuck like the hundreds of others on the side of the road.

"Scully?"

"Mulder, please don't say anything."

He shut up, watching her concentrate, fingers clenched on the wheel, her
body poised for action as if she held a gun on a dangerous criminal.

When they finally got to their exit and stopped at the light there, she
turned to him with softness in her eyes.

"Sorry, Mulder. Your voice is kind of distracting."

He lifted an eyebrow at her and then gave her a leer. "That can only be
a good thing."

She snorted and faced forward as the light changed, then slowly got the
car rolling again, turning widely left in the intersection.

She could speed up a bit when they hit the side roads again, and made it
safely back to their house, managing to only lose traction a few times.

With the garage door shut, and her coat hanging over a kitchen chair,
Scully called her mother to let her know she was home safely.

"Mom?"

"Dana. You didn't have any trouble, I guess?"

"No Mom. Some slipping, but it was all right. I'm glad Grace is with you
though. She doesn't need to hear the words that came out of Mulder's
mouth."

He glared at her and poked her side.

She batted him away and listend to her mother go over their day.

"Can I talk to Gracie, now?"

"Sure, Dana, hold on."

There was a loud clunking and then the phone dropped to the floor and
she winced.

Suddenly Grace's voice was on the line.

"Mommy?"

"Hey, Gracie. How was your day?"

"Fun. We made cookies again and I got to put food coloring in it so the
little men turned out green, like Daddy's aliens!"

"Oh, that's great baby. Are you okay with me and Daddy letting you stay
with Gramma?"

"Yup. I like it here. And Gramma says you need to talk."

"That's right, Gracie. We do."

"Hey, can I talk to Daddy a little bit?"

"Sure, baby, hold on."

She moved to the side, letting Mulder have the phone, and returned to
the kitchen to get her coat and gloves.

She heard snatches of their conversation as she hung up her things, and
thought maybe Grace was telling him a story, when he suddenly motioned
to her.

Handing back the phone, he shrugged.

"Grace?"

"Mommy. Are aliens really grey?" she said, sounding peeved.

"Um, well. I don't know, baby. I've never seen one."

"Oh. I told Daddy about the green men I made and he said aliens were
grey," she replied, and Scully could just see her pouting.

Throwing an evil look to Mulder, she tried to appease her. "I think
aliens can be whatever color you want since they're imaginary Gracie."

It was Mulder's turn to shoot her an evil look, and he shook out his
coat and huffed off.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Is that all, Grace?"

"Uh-hm. Love you lots Mommy."

"Love you too, baby. Good night."

"Night."

The phone clicked in her ear.

At least she had *somewhat* better phone manners than Mulder.

"What was that, Mulder? Sorry, Grace, aliens are grey, not green."

He frowned and shook his head. "I was just trying to correct her."

"Notice how it mainly hurt her?"

"Scully-"

"I don't even believe in aliens, but I didn't tell her, sorry Grace, it
doesn't matter what color your men are, because there's no such thing as
aliens."

"Scully, sheesh. She's not going to be scarred for life because I told
her aliens were grey."

Scully threw her hands in the air and stormed off, fuming.

He followed close behind her. "No, wait. Scully, wait!"

Grabbing her elbow, he turned her back around. "Talk to me, Scully. This
is one of those times."

She gaped at him. "This is *not* one of those times, Mulder. This is an
age-old difference of opinion that will *never* be settled between us."

He shook his head. "Not the part about the aliens. The part about why
you're mad I told her they were grey."

"I'm *mad* Mulder, because you *hurt* her."

"I didn't hurt her, Scully," he said softly. "I told her the truth and
she went to you looking for proof of it. She's completely like you. Just
because you go off and search for evidence doesn't mean you're hurt when
I tell you that aliens are real, does it?"

She glared, having nothing to say to his words.

"So, who did I really hurt, Scully? You?"

She bit down furiously on the inside of her cheek, releasing only when
she tasted the coppery smoothness of blood.

"Yes, Mulder. Is that how you planned to start this 'talk'? By forcing
me to admit that you hurt me?"

He stepped back. "Not really. It's a good start though."

Her mouth hung open and he leaned over and touched her chin, closing it
again.

"I'm not doing this, Mulder. I'm not going to be part of a
'conversation' where you pry all my feelings from *me* and say nothing
of yourself."

"I've told you about myself Scully. You know all there is to know. You
made me tell you about Diana, about everything, and still, you show me
nothing, you don't let me *in* one bit. I'm sick of it Scully. I thought
when we got married it would somehow change, then I thought well, maybe
it would take a while, then I thought, maybe after the baby. But it just
keeps going on and on, Scully. On and on."

She yanked her hand from his grip and stalked to the doorway, attempting
to get out while she still could.

He stalked after her, grabbed her wrists, held tightly enough to make
her squirm.

"Stop it, Mulder. Stop it."

His eyes were weary and hurting, but he shook his head. "No. No. We need
this, Scully. You promised."

She dropped her eyes. "Feels sick when someone breaks their promise,
doesn't it?" she asked, and then leaned in to his grasp, trying to throw
him off balance.

But he skirted back, recognizing her tactic.

She grew frustrated and pushed at his chest, an almost panicky sensation
climbing through her.

He wouldn't let her go.

Her breath grew erratic and she twisted in vain, somehow feeling so very
exposed, so defenseless and helpless.

"Mulder," she gasped and he eyed her, eyes narrowing.

"Mulder, let me go. Let me go."

He shook his head and gathered her closer to him.

"Scully, we need to talk."

She shook her head, practically climbed out of his arms.

"I can't breathe!" she hissed and felt his hands drop, his body stiffen.

She slumped to the floor, heaving in great huge breaths, the palms of
her hands covering her eyes in shame.

She hadn't done that in years.

He was on the floor next to her, touching her softly, lightly, the
barest of contact along her arm.

She shivered and turned into his arms, wishing that had not happened.

"Scully?" he said, his voice frightened, arms encircling her.

"I panicked," she said, words muffled by his chest.

"I'm sorry. I thought you were angry, and . . .I . . ."

"It's okay. I . . ." She shook her head, unable to say what she meant.

"Has this happened before?"

She felt an irrational twinge of laughter. "There's the psychologist . . .
and yes, it has."

"When? Why?"

She still refused to look up at him. "When I was about four, my brother
and some mean kids from across the street tied me up to a tree. They
were pretending to be Cowboys and I was an Indian, and one of my
brother's friends was supposed to save me. They had real fire. I freaked
out."

He shivered. "Understandable. Explains a whole hell of a lot."

Her hands unclenched from his arms, and she pushed away a bit, still
relatively within his embrace.

"I . . . I don't know why I did that just now. It's embarassing . . ."

"It shouldn't be, not in front of me. But I should have seen what was
happening, let you go."

She glanced to the floor, then back in his eyes. "I guess that's our
problem, huh? I don't talk and you don't listen."

He smiled sorrowfully and pulled her into his arms, cradling her for a
moment.

In a brief flash, she wondered if he'd done this to Diana, if she had
ever needed his touch and sank into his arms.

Rising quickly, feeling sick, she skittered away, angry at herself for
feeling bitter, angry at him because it was his fault.

"I'm going to sleep, Mulder. Let's talk tomorrow."

"Oh." he said, face somewhat pained, but looking as if he *knew* it was
his fault anyway. "I'll sleep on the couch, Scully."

She nodded, keeping a tight reign on the tears until she was far enough
away from him that she could sob and not have him running to touch her.

She shivered and pulled off her business suit, then her shoes and hose
and bra, the tears drying against her salty cheeks. She didn't want him
touching her for awhile.

Not until she could unpaint the picture of him holding Diana, drunk and
aroused and laughing.

Because it seared right through her every time he even looked at her.

And, oh God, it hurt.
~~~~

Mulder laid on his couch, the green leather one he had brought over from
his old apartment, a companion he'd forsake for one night to simply hold
Scully.

He knew what she'd been thinking, in that split second where she gone
from turning *to* him to turning *away* from him.

She was thinking about Diana. He could see it right there in her eyes,
made dark and sad by her thoughts, by his own stupid mistakes.

Regaining her trust wasn't going to be easy, but he wasn't going to sit
back and wait for it to happen either. She'd been right.

She never talked, and he never listened.

He wondered which had come first.

He never listened so she never talked.

Or:

She never talked so he never listened.

They both needed to change, to find a way to express things that hurt,
and to open their hearts to the other's needs.

He supposed they'd gotten this far for three reasons: Grace, lack of
time, and lack of energy.

They just weren't ever squared off anymore, except on cases, and that
helped to sublimate things a bit. They came home and focused on Grace,
and went to bed happy to be alive and loved.

Until the time came when Grace didn't require them around the clock, and
work slacked off and things they'd forgotten about came to haunt them.

Mulder closed his eyes and tried to push away the thoughts spinning
around in him. He needed to sleep so he could be alert in the morning
when she finally did want to say something.

He just hoped it was something he wanted to hear.
~~~~

~~~~

She came awake.

Darkness.

Chill around her, but hot hot inside.

Shivering, confused, the feeling of wetness down her face, smooth and
tangy and sharp.

Grief.

It was grief.

She was crying. The wetness was tears.

She was Dana Scully.

The darkness drew back, became a familiar night, as the heaviness
lessened into things she knew: blankets and pillows and a bedspread.

She shivered and wiped the tears from her face, then pushed her feet off
the bed.

Standing quickly, she wiggled her toes on the carpet, warming them up
before moving on.

The moon was low slung in the sky, very orange and very pregnant.

She wondered what it would birth come time.

Light and moonbeams, or emptiness and space?

Finding a patch of silver remaining still and calm on her floor, she
stood before the window, relishing the otherworld feel of waking from a
nightmare she couldn't remember and standing in the false warmth of an
orange moon.

She was grateful to Mulder for insisting they buy a place away from DC's
city lights, away from the smog and noise and pollution. At the time,
she had only thought - inconvienent, far away, no mall.

Now, she could stand at this window, as she'd done countless times
before, and watch the stars dazzle through the vacuum of space, small
points of hope that promised that she could make it through the bad
times.

It was frosted outside, the orange of the moon making the snow and ice
seem like frozen fire, its sharp contours rough and ragged.

Standing here, she remembered the better times, the content times, as
Mulder would pace the room, Grace's small bundle in his arms, rocking
her to sleep, and unable to help his curiosity, pausing at the window to
look out, inevitabley starting the baby's crying all over again.

And she had stood here alone too.

As she waited for Grace to come, her hand on her swollen belly, thinking
that this was the day, the very night, and knowing it, knowing for
certain.

Mulder had flown in from a lame conference in Florida, and then she
hadn't been alone anymore.

Looking now from the window, Dana could spot the places they'd trekked
through, the tree where Grace had discovered baby birds and insisted
that her mother, being a doctor, could fix them, and the hideouts they'd
all made together, she and Mulder reliving childhood as Grace grew.

There'd been the night they had starwatched, as Grace called it, each
one looking in a different direction, counting the falling stars and
meteorites burning, burning through the sky.

Closing her eyes now, she remembered that feeling.

Stretched along the earth like she was sacrificing herself, her body
almost molded right to the ground.

There'd been the awesome expanse of stars and heavens before her, and
the feel of a heartbeat beneath her body, as if she could feel the
earth's ancient rhythms.

Then she'd closed her eyes and everything had been swirling, shifting,
speeding along like a plunging roller coaster, going too fast to ever
ever stop.

She had felt the earth turn, felt it spin dizzily in space.

Her eyes closed, her body stretched through summer's grass, the earth
turning, then the hands of God, reaching down to lift her right up, to
place her among the stars.

Still, the heartbeat of the earth echoed in her body, and the stars
thrummed with a universal song, and the very space around her vibrated
with the harmony of creation, murmuring in the entirity of the cosmos.

And for a brief instant, she had joined in.

With her entire being.

And it was good.

Her own sigh brought her back to the room, the carpet under her feet,
the window glinting in the light of an orange moon.

Glancing at the sky, she longed to feel that completeness again, the
knowledge that she was a part of something greater and more valuable
than the troubles on earth. 

She knew that it had only come with the ability to leave her worries and
fears and bad feelings behind.

But this night, as the nightmare faded and the orange moon began to be
normal again, her own worries and fears and bad feelings lay too heavy
upon her for flight into space.

She bowed her head, feeling tears and emptiness come rushing through her
like a tsunami, crashing into shore, rearing back, then breaking once
more over her soul.

Her thoughts drowned in seas of sorrow, her hope left at the bottom of
the ocean.

With her head bowed, the words came with remembrance of a childhood
habit.

"Dear God," she whispered.

As she spoke the name, the stars seemed to shift, the moon duck its
head.

"Dear God."

The tears welling in her would not be held back, but the words she
longed to say would not come.

"Dear God. . ."

It was choked by sobs this time, and still she could say no more, offer
no pleas or questions.

She was screaming deep within her spirit, but it'd been so long since
she'd screamed to God, to anyone, that she didn't know how anymore.

"Dear God. . ."

He knew.

He had to feel the echo of her escalating agony as it schismed the
universe's song into cacaphony.

"Dear. . .God."

Her eyes closed.

She slumped to the window, hot forehead pressed to the cool glass.

And cried.
~~~~

Mulder woke early, eyes opening slowly.

He saw her sitting before him, her body relaxed and sleepy looking.

She hadn't seen him.

He closed his eyes again, ducking back to sleep. 

Listening carefully, he wondered what she was doing there, sitting in
her pajama bottoms and a white T-shirt, shivering.

She murmured something to herself and he realized she was singing.

He couldn't recognize a tune, but with her, he *never* could, so he
didn't pay it much attention.

He waited like that, feigning sleep, wishing she would give him some
sign that she wanted this to work as badly as he did.

She merely sat there.

He opened his eyes, found her staring straight at him.

He blinked.

"Scully?"

"I couldn't sleep."

He nodded and pulled himself into a siting position. She remained firmly
entrenched on the chair, tucking her legs up under her.

"Good morning," he replied, raising his eyebrows.

"I thought of a lot things last night."

He nodded for her to continue, not daring to interrupt.

"I thought and thought. I realized two things. One, that I can forgive
you quite easily because I love you. And two, I can't forget so easily
at all, for the same reason, I love you. You're mine. . .I suppose."

He gulped and nodded, glad that she was making this easy for him.

"But Mulder. . .in order for this to work, I *have* to forget it."

She stared at him with no small measure of fear and ferocity, her eyes
like blue moons.

"How are you going to do that?" she said.

He frowned. "Do. . . what?"

"Make me forget. I've tried already. And it almost happens. Then it
doesn't."

"I have to make you forget, that's . . .it?"

"No small order, Mulder. This isn't like we go to some hypnotherapist
and you brainwash me. . . I mean like we put this back together so
strong and so undefeatable, that I'll be sure. . .sure."

"I want you to be sure of me, Scully. Sure of the right things though,
not the wrong ones."

"I do too, Mulder. But that's going to be hard to have unless this
somehow never happened."

"All right. Do you think talking it over would help you?" he asked,
feeling his psychologist training kick in.

She frowned. "No. It makes me feel worse. I'm glad you told me the
truth, and yet, I wish you'd let me go on living in ignorance."

"No. You don't."

She grit her teeth. "Yes, I do."

He ducked his head and rubbed at his eyes.

"So. . .are you going to stay here?"

She was watching him intently, and her eyes softened. 

"I don't think I can Mulder."

He nodded, expecting it.

"Your mother's then?"

"Yes."

"I'll. . .see if Grace can stay longer with your mother so you can have
time with her every day."

She smiled. "Thanks. . ."

As if she needed an appointment to see her own little girl.

He shook his head. "I think this could be a good thing."

She smiled tightly. "I think we can *make* it into a good thing."

The couch was hot from his skin when she sat beside him, and he glanced
over at her as she shivered.

Touching his hand softly, she traced the lines of his palm.

"I still don't know why you did that, Mulder. I still don't understand
it. But I'm going to try and not dwell on it. So forgive me now for
whatever insensitive things I might say in the future."

He shook his head. "You've done nothing wrong, Scully."

When she lifted her head, he saw tears shimmering there in her
moon-eyes.

"That's what I thought too, Mulder. But we both must have done something
wrong for this to have happened."

He touched her cheek, but she shrank away.

"I wish I could give you some tangible, concrete evidence that I'm never
going to do this again. I wish I could take you into the future and show
you that this never will happen. Maybe then you could forget."

She shivered. "There are some things in life we just don't need to
know."

He stood, leaving her side.

She was like a black hole beside him, her vain attempts at hope only
succeeding in killing his own.

"I'll make you forget, Scully. I will."

"Then it might all be okay again."

He closed his eyes, breathing in the new hope found lurking in the air.

She had come to him, put it entirely in his hands, while still reserving
the ultimate control.

But she wanted this.

She wanted this.
~~~~

~~~~

"Tina says don't talk to me like I am deaf and dumb
we've broken down and broken up so much that I am numb
talk about - don't shout about - the people we've become
there's a little girl who's crying over here."
--"How Do You Tell Someone?" Cowboy Mouth

~~~~

Scully was walking through the hall feeling better than she had in
months, the sudden flashing hope rising through her.

Work was the same, but Mulder was being careful, the cases light, never
out of town, the work easily done by phone, yet also very boring.

Waiting on a lab result, Scully headed for the coffee machine, needing
something to help her wake up after the week of sleeplessness in her
mother's house.

She missed Grace.

That feeling still ate away at her happiness, and only the thought that
they could eventually work this out was getting her through the cruelly
short times she had with her little girl.

She was remembering Mulder's soft voice on the phone the night before,
the way it had once more fired her soul, how she again had found the odd
delight in the cadence of his words.

She was remembering when she ran head long into another agent.

Apologizing before she lifted her head, Scully stopped dead still as her
eyes met those of Diana Fowley.

Her breath rushed out in a gasp of fear and pain.

"You okay, Agent Scully?"

She blinked, shook her head. "Fine. Fine."

Almost running, Scully darted from the woman, her thoughts wild and free
after her hope had smothered them so completely.

Thoughts and visions of Mulder with her, making love to his first wife,
taking pleasure in the places he once found joy, creating warmth between
their bodies, all tumbled through her.

She plunged into the bathroom, threw open a stall, and slammed its door
closed behind her.

She dry heaved over the toilet, gasping.

Crying.

Why couldn't she just forget this?
~~~~

Mulder licked his lips as he watched her leave, felt sure everyone in
the room knew of his affair and was hating him for it.

As soon as Diana left, he buried his head in his hands.

It was hard to keep his feelings and his thoughts and his sudden, quick
mind from leaping in the wrong directions.

Diana had been his wife and he had known her fully and completely.

And, unfortunately, that information chose to volunteer itself at
precisely the wrong times.

It was this hole in him that ate and ate and ate at him until he
shovelled a bit more into it, in a vain attempt to fill it up.

When he was littler, it was getting a kick out of chasing the girls on
the playground, pulling on their hair and sneaking a kiss under the
slide.

After Sam disappeared, girls were too complex to chase on the
playground, and his father had mistakenly left some magazines out in the
open, wonderfully revealing the mysteries the girls presented.

He remembered the first time he'd opened up the magazine, coming right
to the centerfold, the woman naked and bare and beautiful, her fingers
in strategic places that made him twitch.

It had started then, started with one accidental viewing.

It had grown and grown and festered within him, assuaged slightly with
the fantasies he dreamed at night, but as he fed it, the hole caved in
more and more, taking out chunks of his soul while growing still bigger.

It'd been soft porn before, now it was hard core stuff, and mostly it
was the thrill of maybe getting caught that aroused him.

With Diana that day, it'd been fear and pain and the haunting memory of
Scully lying on the hospital bed, drowning in her own grief. And then
the hunger within had awakened when she had touched him, and he was
drunk again and had no control and nothing had stopped.

Now, this hunger had been found again. The hole in him grew again, made
itself known to him.

The girls he had only kissed in the bar had been dangerous temptations,
the devil's own, and he had succumbed. 

And she had discovered his sin.

He wanted to make this right again, but with the hole in him widening,
that hunger ravenous and pushing at him, he found it hard to keep his
thoughts pure.

Scully was no longer a mystery, no longer something to be 'caught' with.
While he still ached to touch her, still found himself helplessly crazy
about her, it did not fill the evil hole in him.

He had thought she had, thought she'd cured him from his disease, but it
had come back.

With a vengeance.

He did not want this.

He wanted Scully.

He needed help.
~~~~

The room was dark and seemed to ripple in the shadows as he passed by
the only light glowing.

It reminded him somewhat of a womb, warm and comforting and dark, the
slow steady tick of the clock like a mother's heart.

He sat down again and waited for her to acknowledge him.

Karen Kosoff nodded to him, her eyes troubled, her brow steepling.

Although he could tell immediately she was worried over him, he trusted
her immensely, especially after hearing Scully had seen her a few
scattered times.

Scully had not talked to him, but she had talked to Karen.

"I need help," he said softly, his lips dry after telling his story.

She nodded thoughtfully.

"To tell you the truth, Agent Mulder, I never would have thought."

"Most wouldn't realize the depth of the problem, no."

"She told me a little bit about your . . . videos, the porn. She said
they bothered her at first, but not anymore. Because she knew that was
just a fixation for you, just as you had fixations about other things,
and that it couldn't be a real problem. Not for you. She said you were
too strong."

"Are you allowed to be telling me this?"

She smiled a bit and her eyebrow rose. "Actually, Dana came to see me
earlier, looking rather upset. She said you might come in later to talk
over some things, and that she was allowing me to share with you
anything she'd ever told me, in hopes of helping you."

Mulder blinked.

She had him all figured out. 

"Did she know this was the problem?"

"Not at all," she said softly. "Not at all. She mentioned some
unfaithfulness, and that it was rough and causing a lot of tension. She
told me the proposition she'd given you, about making her forget."

"Did you talk to her about her reasons behind that?"

"A bit. Her main reason is because she really does want to forget, and
she honestly believes you're the only one who can do that for her. Of
course, I told her that she thought she'd given you control of the
situation, but ultimately, the decision was still hers. She couldn't
blame it on you if she failed to forget."

He nodded. "I've told her the surface problems, the pain when she
wouldn't ever speak to me, and the confusion about her reaction to
things. I've tried to base my actions from those irrational parts of me,
but I think she senses there's more to it than that, more than my own
hurt at her silence."

The psychologist studied him for a moment. "I don't know if she does."

"She must. Why else would she be so insistent on needing to know why,
and for what other reasons would she push at me to do something?"

Kosoff looked at him increduously, her tongue clucking.

"Not everything is about you, Mulder. She does this because she's
hurting a whole hell of a lot after what you've done."

Mulder sat back with shock, the sting of mental slap fresh and raw.

He licked his lips and held his head in his hands, elbows resting on his
knees.

"I. . .I am a pretty worthless piece of sh-"

"No. Mulder, you're not. And I won't have you saying that about yourself
while you're with me."

He glanced at her shyly.

"What can I do?"

"For what?"

"For this. . .this perversion!"

She picked at her skirt for a moment, then reagarded him with eyes that
begged to be trusted.

"I can help you, Mulder. I really feel that I can. And in helping you
defeat this, you can start getting your wife back. I really believe
that. But you're going to have to trust me. You're going to have to
endure some pretty tough things and a lot of really rough weeks. But
this can be taken away, Mulder. You did it on your own for a little
while, at least until you let sorrow and alcohol loosen the lid over it.
With a bit of prodding from me, you can wipe the hunger out of
existence."

He wanted to nod eagerly, wanted to do anything she said for the chance
to have Scully back and not mess it up.

But he considered every word she said carefully, knowing it was expected
of him.

"I want you to help me. I want to kill this thing."

She nodded and stood, shaking his hand.

"We'll start tomorrow, at noon."

He agreed, but felt let down; he wanted to start immediately, right
then.

As he gathered his suit jacket, she stopped him with a word.

"And Mulder. If Dana asks where you're going, by all means, don't *lie*
to her."

He realized with shame that he'd been trying to come up with ways to do
just that.
~~~~

Dana woke feeling sick, her insides roiling and her throat raw.

She wondered if she had sobbed herself into coughing fits during the
night, just as she had the two nights in a row when she'd first come to
her mother's.

She remembered her dreams. Mulder had been telling her all the reasons
why he didn't love her that she had listed for herself a week ago in the
intense moments of self-pity.

Sitting in bed, she pulled the phone to her and called AD Kersh,
explaining why she couldn't come in to work, letting him hear for
himself her raw, low voice.

She told him she was sick.

And as she hung up, she realized it wasn't a lie.

She was sick.

Sick of being hurt by Mulder.
~~~~

Karen's room was bright this time, the noon sun reflected off the chrome
in the cars out her window. She had placed two things on the table.

His gaze was drawn from the moment he walked in.

Two pictures: one of Scully he'd never seen before, another of a stark
naked woman, in a decidedly sick pose.

He gulped and refused to look at the woman he did not know.

His eyes kept wandering though.

She watched him battle for control, every emotion played wickedly in his
eyes, the longing and fear, the need and raw ache, the overwhelming
determination to end this.

"Mulder?"

Her voice broke through his fought-for control, and he raised his eyes
to meet hers, his cheeks flushed.

"Mulder, I want you to stare at the picture of Scully for one full
minute."

He frowned, confused, but obediently placed his gaze on the photograph
of her.

She began timing, always always looking at his eyes.

At first, it was easy to gaze at her, taking it all in, not pausing to
examine the details, just bask in the comfort even her picture seemed to
exude.

Then as his mind grew restless, he frantically poured over each and
every detail.

Her hair, pulled slightly to the side, lighter than it usually was now,
longer and more curled.

Her eyes, intense, concentrated, their blue seas caught right in the
midst of a look she'd given him often enough.

Her lips, pursed and reddened by cold, oddly set in the rest of her
features, but somehow more alluring that way.

She was young here, and innocent, and her gaze and stance seemed to call
out at him for a return to those days, the times when a mere nine
minutes lost was of major importance.

He found it easy to simply content himself in watching her.

Karen called time, and he snapped from his trance, eyes back to her,
then rushing to the clock. It had been five minutes, not one.

He questioned her with a look, but instead, she merely reach for the
photo of Scully and replaced it with another one.

"Okay, once again, look only at her picture for one minute."

He complied again, first taking stock of the overall image.

Scully: a bit later in their career, and by the hardness of her eyes,
after her abduction.

He moved immediately to the details.

There again were her eyes, but this time cold and almost lifeless,
caught in ice and memory. 

There again her hair, redder, almost the shade he now recognized, as if
she were still experimenting.

There again her lips, formed flat and unhappy.

It wasn't a picture he liked so much, but he realized with a start that
she was smiling in this one, and had been frowning in the other.

That was telling him something significant, but he wasn't sure what.

Maybe just that her life kept getting worse with every year that passed.

His eyes strayed and before he knew it, the naked girl was smiling at
him with lust.

He cried out and glanced away, to Karen Kosoff, ashamed, feeling sick.

She noted the time.

He glanced to the clock.

One minute only.

He ran a tired hand over his eyes and then looked at her, purposefully
ignoring all of the photographs on the table before her.

"What did that measure?"

"Your processing."

"Of what? My wife?"

"No, of details. You adapt very quickly, Mulder. The first time, it took
you five minutes to get bored with looking at the picture. Or I should
rather say, it took you five minutes to process every piece of that
photo and memorize it. I called time before your eyes moved on to the
other. This time, you knew what was going on, you zeroed in on the
details, ignoring the simplicity you had sought before, and simply
memorized, perhaps ever reflected, for that first full minute. Then you
moved on. I let you keep going."

"What do you mean?"

"I told you to look at her for a minute. At first you analyzed it in
such a way that you thought might waste a full minute. The second time,
when you had a rough estimate of how long a minute would be in this
moment here, you skipped the time wasting procedures and looked for
exactly one minute. You did everything right."

"So, you mean I tried to fill up my minute the first time but went
overboard, so the second time I knew better how to fill a minute. And so
I got finished faster and moved on."

She nodded excitedly. "What does that say to you?"

"I need to slow down. Do things like I want."

"Okay. Slow down how?"

"Maybe take the time to notice my wife more? To really take her in, find
new things about her that I've either forgotten or never really knew."

She murmured encouragement. "How else could you slow down in life?"

He scratched his chin. "Take a bit of a vacation. Play with my daughter,
and tell her stories. Whenever I tell her a story, time seems to drag on
endlessly, and yet it also sweeps past us. We're almost out of the
moment, out of the flowing of time. She relaxes me."

"Make time slow down for you, right?"

"Right. Make it slow down for me. Pay careful attention to Scully."

She smiled and tapped her pen next to the picture of the naked woman.

"Okay, now I want you to merely take in this picture. No need for
special attention, just so you can recall some details later."

He looked at her warily, but let his eyes fall to the page.

He glanced at the woman, his eyes lingering on certain curves, hands
twicthing in his lap.

When he looked back to Kosoff, she was watching the clock.

"Done." he said.

She looked at him in surprise. "You're done?"

He nodded.

"I'm surprised. I had expected you to fulfill the minute time
requirement I placed on you before. But you looked for thirty seconds.
What do you think that says?"

He frowned. "Either that your advice went completely out the window, and
my mind refused to slow down, or that maybe I don't need to look very
long because my curiousity it satisfied with a glimpse."

"My advice to you was to pay more attention to your wife, right?"

"Right."

"This isn't your wife here."

He dropped his mouth open, stunned. 

"Yes. You're right. Maybe I changed myself. Convinced myself to pay more
attention to Scully, and therefore less to others. I didn't need to look
long because it wasn't Scully!"

"Right. Did you think anything while you looked?"

He thought for a moment. "I don't think so."

"Did you think anything when you looked at Scully?"

"Yes. I remembered the time when she looked like she did in that first
picture, how innocent she'd seemed. And in the second, I remembered how
jaded I'd made her, how sickened at life and the government, but still,
she fought."

"You had complex thoughts while looking at her, didn't you?"

"Yes, I suppose I did."

"You had no thoughts with the naked picture, right?"

"Yes."

"What do you think that means?"

He frowned, wondering if maybe she would tell him what it meant.

"I don't know."

"Surely you do, Mulder. You've studied psychology."

"I suppose I realize that my relationship with Scully is more real, more
complex and tinted with shades of both happiness and pain, while I have
nothing but basic instinct with the naked picture of a woman."

She smiled at him. "I think that's good. Now, tell me what we discovered
about what you're thinking."

"I believe I have a reality with Scully, a life, and that I tend to rush
through the good times, always waiting for the bad, when I should pause
to take it all in, appreciate her more."

Karen looked surprise.

He grinned. "I did major in psychology."

She rolled her eyes and stood, signalling the end.

"I hope to see you tomorrow, Agent Mulder."

He nodded and turned to leave, but stopped at her door.

"I have a question."

"I'll do my best to answer it."

"Scully didn't come in to work today. Do you know what that might mean?"

Kosoff was silent, contemplating him.

"It could mean she's afraid of confronting you. Or maybe afraid of
hurting."

He nodded painfully and stepped once more for the door.

"Agent Mulder?" she called.

He paused, back still to her.

"This isn't going to be easy, for either of you. Let her work this out
on her own, and when she comes for you, take her back as quickly as you
can."

The warning was ominous and he slipped out the door, feeling dead again.
~~~~

~~~~

"Michael says don't shout at me like I was born a fool
You speak of love and scream of love
now dare to treat me cruel
nothing's fare in love and war
so please let's make some rules
there's a little boy who's crying over here."
--"How Do You Tell Someone?" Cowboy Mouth

~~~~

Mulder found the store quickly enough, and managed to grab the few
things he needed without much hassle.

The grocery clerk glanced at him, but said nothing, and Mulder had the
irrational feeling that everyone in the world knew his secret, that
everyone everywhere could tell that he was a perverted, sick man.

He licked his lips, grabbed his bags and change, and then headed for the
door, glancing to his watch.

He really had to go get Grace, it was past nine o'clock.

The session with Karen Kosoff has lasted a lot longer than either
expected, ending with him sobbing on the floor like a child, and her
trying to make him see that a cure was possible, that he really could
surmount this.

He was having a hard time thinking so.

It'd been a month now.

A month since she had walked into that bar, her face frozen, her fingers
clutching Grace's shoulders, and seen him there, arms around that girl,
face pressed so close, he could smell her soap.

At that instant, he had felt the change, felt the very air charge with
something that made him sick.

He had looked up, glanced to the door, almost as a reflex, almost
feeling her waves of horror throughout his body.

And he had seen her, just as she had seen him.

Their eyes had met.

Locked.

He pushed the woman away from him, felt sick, sick sick.

Felt he couldn't breathe.

She had quickly turned Grace to the door, escaped.

Escaped from him.

He had nightmares about that day, had that feeling forever imprinted
upon him like a brand.

He would never forget the look in her eyes.

Broken. Everything was broken.

Her trust in him, their marriage, their love.

Her.

All fell to pieces in a brief second of his own weakness.

He knew there had to be time for them, time to at least marginally heal
the wounds ripped deep within them both.

Racing home after her, in the same route he now took from the store, he
had recited an apology over and over, mumbling to himself his stupidity,
imagining the conversation in his head.

Of course, the conversation was unimaginable. He never would have
thought he would have to beg her forgiveness after committing adultery.

Never thought he'd ever be unfaithful.

After Diana, he had sworn never to let it creep in, never to collapse
into that kind of life.

His own inconsolable guilt after it, the way she would look at him with
such grief in her eyes after the death of their child and he would see
the grief for what he'd done. It made him shake.

When he'd married Scully, he'd thrown out the videos, all but a few, and
when Gracie had been born, he had gotten rid of it all.

He thought he had gotten rid of the hole too.

It seemed as if he never would.

He pulled into the driveway, unthinkingly opening his door and
depositing the bags on the counter. Only then did it hit him that he
hadn't picked up Grace yet.

Groaning, he grabbed the phone.

Mrs. Scully answered immediately, concern lacing her voice.

"Mrs. Scully. I just got through with work. . .Is Grace asleep?"

"Yes. When you called and said you might be late, Dana put her to bed at
eight thirty, as usual."

Mulder swallowed the unnatural sense of sorrow this thought produced and
scratched at the countertop with a fingernail.

"Do you mind keeping her overnight? I'm about crash."

"No problem, Fox. You can just come for her tomorrow."

"I'll call at lunchtime to talk to her, make sure she knows I'm not
forgetting her."

He could hear Mrs. Scully sigh softly. "You're a good father, Fox."

He wanted to throw up. "I'm hardly even a man, let alone good."

"Fox. . .I know you've made mistakes. This takes time. Time."

"Mrs. Scully. . .I don't think I'll ever get my family back."

She said nothing, merely listened to him breathe sobs over the
phoneline.

"I've been going to a counselor. Did you know that?"

"Dana told me that first day you went. Is it helping?"

"It's made me realize how much I take things for granted. I also think
I'm getting things back on track, repairing the damage I did to myself a
long long time ago."

She sighed, a mixture of relief and sorrow. "I'm sorry it took this for
that to happen, but I'm glad you're resolving things about Samantha."

Mulder wanted to let it go at that, wanted to let her think that was all
there was to it, but he couldn't.

He couldn't let this claim another part of his life.

"Mrs. Scully, it's not about Samantha. I'd come to terms with that long
before. That's not it at all."

She was silent, tense and waiting.

"Could I talk to Scully for a bit? There's something I need to tell both
of you I think."

"Not over the phone, Fox."

He picked at the counter, rubbing his thumb into the little hole where
Scully had placed a hot pan and burned the formica.

"No. Not the phone. When I come over tomorrow."

"Let me get her."

He took a shaky breath, gathered whatever courage he still had left in
him, wanting to sound confident to her on the phone, even if he was
shaking inside.

"'Lo?" she said, the first part of her word cut off as she turned from
the phone.

He could hear Margaret explaining in the background.

"Scully."

"Mulder, what is it?" 

She sounded worried, not frustrated at him or annoyed. He took it as a
good sign.

"When I come over tomorrow, I was hoping I could talk to you, and your
mother."

"All right. Do I need to make Gracie scarce?"

He breathed out heavily. "Oh, yes. Yes. She doesn't need this at all."

He could hear her voice catch as she agreed.

"Scully, it's not. . .not going to be that great."

"What do you mean Mulder? Why don't you just tell me now?"

"I need to do this face to face. I need to see you, your eyes."

"You. . .you don't want this anymore?" she whispered, a shot in the
dark.

He froze. "No. No. I want this so bad, Scully. But I need to be truthful
with you. Honest."

He knew her mind was racing.

"Mulder, this is cruel. You can't be ambiguous like this, and then
expect me to go to sleep tonight, work with you tomorrow, and not
worry."

"*This* is cruel? And you telling me two days ago that you'd call, and
then ignoring me completely, isn't?"

She sighed and slumped to the couch. "Mulder. . .I. . .I hadn't found
the courage."

He bowed his head. "Neither have I. . .Since when do *you* need courage
to talk to me?"

She bit her lip and closed her eyes. "Since you came home to tell me
you'd cheated on me. On us."

He felt the great sobs tangling him again, and he must have made a
horrid noise because she sighed.

"That was unfair of me," she whispered.

"This was all unfair of me," he answered. "I'll come over tonight. I'll
tell you then."

She paused, and he knew she was afraid of what he might say.

"All right. All right."

She was about to hang up, but he shouted out her name, suddenly feeling
panicked.

"Scully. Scully, wait."

"What?"

"Whatever happens. . .don't take Gracie from me. Please, please don't."

"I couldn't Mulder. She wants *you.*"

He closed his eyes. After this . . .that would no longer matter.

"Be there in about twenty minutes, Scully."

She made a noise and they hung up simultaneously.

If he told them this, she would have every right, every *legal* right,
to take Gracie away from him for a long lonely time.

He would never see her again.
~~~~

She greeted him at the door, her face a mask of coolness, but civility,
and he was grateful for it.

Mrs. Scully came up behind her daughter and smiled warmly at him, taking
his coat and gesturing for them to sit in the living room.

He walked in and saw Grace's Barbies sitting out, as if she had fallen
asleep in the middle of playing. Looking at them, he fingered a pink
dress placed on haphazardly, and the small fingers of one of the babies.

Glancing up, he saw Scully watching him warily, her hands on her thighs
as she sat stiffly on the couch.

"I'm gonna go see Gracie for a minute," he said, whispering as if he
thought anything more would wake her.

She nodded and accepted the tea her mother offered, then watched him
walk from the room.

Grace's bed was massive and impressive with long wooden poles jutting
nearly to the ceiling cradling a soft canopy of silky blue. The
bedspread that was now on the floor was also blue, but a dark navy color
that contrasted beautifully with the pale blue paint on the walls.

Gracie loved blue, and this room had once been a sewing room of Mrs.
Scully's, converted for the new grandchild when she was born.

Matthew Scully, her nephew, had the next bedroom when he came, but at
the moment, he knew Dana slept there, just as Bill and Tara slept in
Gracie's room when they came. The Mulders had never stayed at Mrs.
Scully's when Bill was over. It was just a bad idea. 

Walking in softly, Mulder watched her breathe.

He pulled the bedspread from the floor and covered her with it gently,
tucking it around her sprawled frame. The sheet was twisted around one
arm and he carefully freed it, then moved her bear to rest next to her.

She sighed softly with dreams and sleep, making Mulder smile.

Bending low, he kissed her brow, and then her nose, as she always asked
him to.

He sat there for a moment, gazing at her, memorizing her features as if
he expected to never return.

Wondering if Scully would ever let him near her and Grace once he
confessed his ultimate sin, he smelled her distinct scent.

He felt as if he were being led before judge and jury, with no hope of
plea bargain.

But he stood, and backed away from her bed, bumping into Scully who was
standing in the doorway.

He turned and caught her before she could teeter off balance, and she
gazed up into his eyes.

Leaning in, she placed a kiss to his chest, a soft sort of gesture meant
to give him confidence.

She thought she'd already heard the worst of it.

He took her hand and squeezed it, but let go once they got to the living
room.

She sat opposite him and he took a deep breath, looking once to Mrs.
Scully, then back to Dana.

Here it all goes to hell.
~~~~

Scully watched him fidget for about a minute, still warm with the image
of Mulder tucking Grace in, still content in the state of limbo they
seemed to be in.

He opened his mouth, and by the funny look in his eyes, she knew it was
going to be bad.

"I've been seeing Karen Kosoff for the past month," he said, then
paused.

She blinked, confused and feeling fear creep over her. "Seeing her?"

He glanced to her, then his eyes grew wide. "No. Not like that, Scully!
For help. As a psychologist."

She nodded as if she knew that all along, but he saw the relief in her
eyes.

"I have a real problem, Scully. . .and it's not a pretty thing. When I
was about six, I found some of my father's magazines. . .they were
pretty uh, explicit."

Mrs. Scully watched him calmly and he wondered if telling this to Scully
in front of her mother was a good idea.

"It kind of grew from there, especially after Samantha was taken and I
really didn't have many good friends. It heightened when I got my
license, and took off when I went into Oxford. It was easier to get
things in Europe."

"What. . .what took off? What are you talking about?" she said.

"I have a problem with . . .with porn," he said softly, and would not
meet her eyes.

But she laughed. "Mulder. . .I found those videos the first year of our
partnership. Don't you remember that? In fact, we joked a *lot* about
those videos."

He shook his head. "Scully, I don't think you grasp the seriousness of
this. It's not just videos. . .ah. . .I've called 900 numbers. . .even 
when we were married. I. . .I've gone to movies, strip clubs. . .
prostitutes when I was younger."

She had her mouth hung open, then she glanced quickly to her mother. He
thought he detected a hint of shame.

She was ashamed of him.

"Mulder. . .that was when you were young. I. . .I don't see. You threw
out the last of it when I had Grace. I watched you."

"And I stopped for awhile. But when Grace was only six months old, I
went to some adult stores along the Strip. It was small stuff, not quite
hard porn. But it quickly grew. . .Scully, it's all encompassing. And it
started with Diana."

She was silent, her hand placed over her mouth as if she could keep in
all the bad things she wanted to shout at him.

Her eyes drifted shut, pain etched in her face.

"Scully. . .I'm sorry. I'm trying to make it go away."

She took in a shaky breath and her eyes were bright when she looked at
him again.

"I. . .I never thought it was a problem. I thought it was harmless.
Something all bachelors did."

"Scully, most bachelors I know don't go to the lengths I did even after
we got married."

"This is my fault. I knew it was going on, Mulder. I knew you went to
those movies. You didn't hide it well. I just thought you assumed I'd be
angry at you. I knew this was going on and I didn't see it for what it
was. Or maybe I did and deluded myself into thinking everything was
okay."

He reeled back, stunned.

She was blaming herself.

He looked to Mrs. Scully, as if for help. She shrugged.

"Scully, Scully. This isn't your fault. I got caught up in this when I
was six. It's hard to stop, harder to know the reasons why it seems like
I need it."

"I. . .I should have understood. Those girls. . .they were all part of
it, weren' they?"

"A lot of it. Diana, I explained before."

"Mm. We don't need to get into that again." She gave him a tentative
smile.

He nodded, too overcome with shame to look at her straight.

"Scully. Please don't take Grace away from me."

She drew in a quick, sharp breath. "I'm not doing anything until we get
this all resolved, Mulder. Let alone grab Gracie and leave the country."

He shook his head. "You could legally. This is more than enough to-"

"Mulder, you trusted me with this. I hope you did, anyway. I'm not going
to make you wish you'd never told me. I know you would never expose this
to Grace, I *know* you'd never hurt her."

He gave a sigh of relief.

She paused. "You do trust me, right?"

He looked startled. "Of course. Why else would I even come here
tonight?"

She shrugged and glanced to her fingers. "Is there anything I can do to
help you with this, Mulder?"

He rubbed his hands over his face, then saw Mrs. Scully looking at him.

She stood and touched his shoulder. "I'm also honored that you trusted
me with this, Fox. I'll let you talk with Dana alone."

He gave her a grateful look and watched her leave.

Scully repeated her question.

"I don't know what you can do. This is my personal beast, Scully. . ."

"Let me help you *fight* it."

He felt bitterness seep through him. "You really can't do that, Scully.
All I need from you is . . .you. And you're not willing to give that to
me."

She breathed in sharply, stung.

He looked at her softly, wishing he hadn't said it.

"I understand why, Scully. You can't forget. But that doesn't help me
much. I have to deal with this, and then work on us."

"Why can't we do both at the same time?"

He closed his eyes, weary.

"It's hard enough to beat this thing. But it's the root of all our
problems, Scully. I can't work *us* out when this is still here. I'd end
up hurting us more than I already have."

She looked away. "All right then. If that's what you've decided."

"It's not so much me, Scully. But how can you forget what I've done when
it's intrinsic to this bigger problem?"

She hung her head. "I. . .I don't know."

He stood and pulled on his coat again, easing toward the door.

"I do love you, Scully. Never doubt that. But this has complete control
of me, of even my love. I can't love you properly when it has me. It
wouldn't be fair to you *or* to me."

She turned at his voice, met his eyes with tears that refused to fall.

He felt his back hit the door, she standing in the foyer.

"I don't think either of us can love properly. We just have to do the
best we can," she replied.

"My best isn't so hot right now."

She let him open the door, watched him glance out at the rain pouring
down now.

"So, I guess we're on hold for awhile?" She was trying to prolong the
moment, maybe trying to get him to stay; she wasn't sure what she meant
anymore.

He turned back, pushed open the storm door with a shaking hand.

"Until I can beat this."

She nodded, feeling hopeless, suffocated.

He closed the door behind him.

She slumped to the floor and cried, pushing away her mother and wanting,
needing to feel miserable.

He couldn't beat this by himself.

And she couldn't heal helping him.

It was a horrible, never ending war.

And their little family was loosing all the important battles.
~~~~

~~~~

"The closer they get the further they're slippin' away
I can almost feel the redemption forgiveness becomes."
--"Man On the Run," Cowboy Mouth

~~~~

"I keep feeling like I'm getting somewhere, but then I'll start to think
about Scully and it gets me depressed again. . .and. . .it all goes
downhill," he explained softly.

Karen nodded and leaned back in her chair, anxious not to have a repeat
of his last four visits, where he ended up storming from the office in
frustration and fear.

They seemed to be getting nowhere.

She said it just had to take time.

"Have you thought about asking her to help?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I can't. She can't help me. This is most of the
reason why we're separated at the moment, and asking her to come in on
it would be like asking her to willingly subject herself to the things
that hurt her most."

"And you're not doing that either?"

"I am, but not really because I want to. I'm not going to let her do
that."

"If you really don't want to be doing this, then why are you here?"

He shifted in the couch, then glanced nervously out the window. 

"Because I want her back. But I want her to feel safe about it, to know
that nothing's gonna happen this time because I beat it."

"If you let her help you, maybe that would help her feel that better."

He seemed willing to listen; she continued.

"If she can have a part in helping you control this, then she'll feel
she has more vested in this, and she'll see firsthand how you can keep
this from dominating both of your lives."

"I guess you want me to ask her, huh?"

"Only if you feel comfortable with it." Karen smoothed her notepad and
settled back into the seat again.

"I don't. I really ought to do this myself. If I do it on my own, then
she'll know I can master it without help. She sees strength in terms of
what one person alone can accomplish."

"You think she'll see you as weak if you ask her for help?"

"Yes. She never asks me for help. It's the way she is. I know that
asking for help isn't a sign of weakness, but of strength. She doesn't
see it like that." Mulder spoke as if he were the praticing
psychologist, sure in his profile of his partner.

"What if she didn't think it weak, but felt it necessary for you to do
this together?"

"If she did, I'd willingly accept her help. Willingly ask."

"But you don't think she feels that way."

"She wants as far away from the memory of what I did to her as she can
possibly get."

His nose crinkled and she detected traces of his old guilt.

"But wouldn't you be a reminder to her?"

"I have to make her forget. And this is the only way how." He looked her
straight in the eyes for the first time in two days.

"That's why you're determined to go through with this."

She tilted her head, watching his response.

"Yes."

"All right. But just think about it for me, all right?"

He nodded easily, meaning he had no intention.

She sighed and they began discussing the journal he'd kept for the
previous week, going over point by point, everything he felt and heard
and anything that might have triggered the raw ache in him that needed
to be filled.

She was feeling pretty hopeless.
~~~~

Scully had taken off work to see Grace, missing her presence.

Usually Mulder got to her mother's house just after her, so that she
only had a few minutes with her daughter. The weekends Grace was hers,
but Scully knew that wasn't enough.

It would never be enough. This was her little girl, her baby.

It made her sick to realize that, if it came down to it, she'd use
Mulder's confession against him to keep Grace with her.

But she was hoping that Mulder would get things together and they could
work everything out.

She knew she was ready to do that, absence from him and Grace was making
her long for some kind of progress.

"Mommy?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"I want nut and jelly for lunch," she said and danced through Scully's
legs.

It was her way of saying peanut butter and jelly.

When she was littler, she used to say nut butt and jelly. It had made
Mulder laugh so hard he'd fallen off his chair and cut his head on the
table.

She smiled and took out the bread for lunch, grabbing the jars and some
sliced deli turkey from the fridge.

Making lunch for Grace felt natural, but achingly bitter too, as she
realized she hadn't done it in a long time.

Not since last weekend.

It was a long time to be without.

An even longer time since she'd felt Mulder near her, felt him at least
trying to put things right. She knew he still went to the therapist,
knew he was battling the beast inside him, but it seemed hollow in her
life without him.

She missed his odd humor, his smile and leers and lips.

She wanted his hand in the small of her back again, wanted that caress
of his eyes along her form. She missed him.

He'd hurt her, hurt her very deeply. 

But in the loneliness, in the times when Grace was gone and Mulder
further away than ever, she begged God for her family.

Then Mulder would come in for Grace, shy and hesitant, and she would see
the hurt there again, see the guilt he projected at her in volumes, and
she would want to retch, want to run from the room in tears for
everything that was destroyed.

It made her feel awful, made her swing back and forth between adoring,
loving him and fearing, hating him.

Some days she called in sick, moped in her bed under the covers and
found pity her best and worst friend. On those days, Grace would sneak
in while she slept, and Scully would wake to find her little girl curled
up at her side, sleeping peacefully.

Not a day went by where Grace didn't say she missed her mother.

It made her ache.

All in all, everything made her ache these days.

She was going to have to get over this, going to have to accept that
Mulder might not be coming back.

Ever.
~~~~

Karen Kosoff watched him through her glasses, the haunted look in his
eyes making her wince. He'd lost a lot of weight and his pants hung low
on bony hips. His chin was more prominent with the tight look of the
sick.

She motioned for him to sit and he cradled his head in his hands.

"Mulder, have you thougtht any more about asking Dana to help you?"

He stood violently, his eyes blazing, furious. "Would you just shut up
about it? I am so sick of you asking that!"

Karen steeled her gaze and it dropped him like a bird hit with a rock.

He slumped into the couch, mumbling apologies.

She shook her head. "Mulder. . .Mulder, I really think you need her."

"Of course I need her. She's my life. But I'm through with being selfish
about everything. She can't. . .doesn't need this."

"Or maybe you just don't want her to know all the sordid details. Is
that it? Maybe you really are being selfish. Maybe it would be the best
thing in the world for her right now and you can see that, but you're
afraid."

He stared at her. "How could this be selfish of me? I feel like I'm
going to fall apart at any time."

"You're hurting her by not letting her in. You're hiding yourself from
her, just as you told me she hid from you."

"No, no. Quit confusing me on this."

"Maybe you're confused."

"Stop it!"

"Maybe you want to think you're protecting her. But hasn't she told you
numerous times she doesn't want you to do that?"

"Stop twisting this all around."

Karen backed off, knowing he was treading on dangerously thin ice.

"Mulder, if there wasn't that thing about patient confidentiality, I'd
call her up in a heartbeat and get her down here."

He sighed wearily and moaned. "Would you just stop already? Stop making
me confused, and help me cure this."

She closed her eyes and debated a very risky thing.

It could destroy his trust in her, it could ruin him forever.

Or it could push him away from the edge.

"I don't think I can go any further with you, Mulder. You refuse to help
yourself in the only way I see possible at this moment. I can't help
you."

He stared at her, shaking, his eyes filled with horror and remorse.

Then they closed her away.

"Fine." 

He got up from the couch, slipped his coat back on, and opened her door.

She sat there, feeling sick.

It had been the truth; there was nothing that could be done unless he
was willing to help himself.

"I thought you wanted to help me," he said softly and she knew it was
not a guilt trip he was trying to subject her to, but the brutally
honest truth from a man who sometimes acted like a child.

He shut the door and walked away.

Karen closed her eyes and prayed.
~~~~

Mulder called at five to say that he needed some time alone, and would
they please keep Gracie overnight?

Scully wanted to know why and he refused to answer.

She felt like a stranger to him.

He collapsed on his couch and stared into the nothingness of the wall
before him, reflecting on everything that had happened.

They were no closer to repairing the hole in him, or the rift between
him and Scully.

All for nothing.

He was damaged to the core, stained from too much of everything.

What he really needed was work, work and Scully, but neither were
attainable. Scully needed a whole man, and work needed some
concentration he was just too exhausted to give.

Feeling a pain, Mulder reached around his back for his holster, the
thick part digging into his hip. He pulled out his gun and set it on the
coffee table.

He stared at it, contemplating, for a long long time.

It was dull black, like his life.

This would be quick, he thought. Unassuming. Easy to pull off.

Deadly.

No more of this ache, no more of the awful realization that if he never
beat this thing, he'd never have his family back.

As one hand snaked toward the barrel of the gun, he knew what he had to
do.
~~~~

~~~~

"Found a way to make it silent.
I'm coming up for air.
Coming up for air.
Air. . .
They hold my hand and ask me to pull through
A voice I know says dear he probably can't hear you."
--"Air" Ben Folds Five

~~~~

Scully laid the blanket over the foot of the sleigh bed, then
straightened up to pull down the comforter.

Gracie watched her from the doorway, her form framed by the light
spilling in from the hall. The stars shone in through her window,
illuminating the blue walls with a kind of gentleness that made her feel
as if everything was a dream.

Patting the bed next to her, she motioned for Grace to hop in to bed,
her stuffed bear in Scully's lap.

Gracie charged for the bed and bounced on it, then wiggled down under
the covers.

"Where's Daddy?"

"He's not coming, Gracie."

Her face screwed up as she fought to keep tears from her eyes.

Scully felt awful. "Baby, I don't mean ever. He'll be here in the
morning. He's letting us spend more time together."

"Oh. But he'll be here?"

"That's right, Gracie. He'll be here."

Scully stood, pulling the blankets and covers over her small body,
bending down to trace her profile in the moonlight.

It hurt to her soul every time Gracie wished for her Dad.

Wished not to be with her.

"Good night, Grace."

"Night, Mommy."

She crept out of the blue bedroom, feeling the girl's eyes on her,
watching as she held her head high.

Dana shut the door softly behind her, then steeled her heart to refuse
the tears welling in her. She didn't want this anymore, didn't want this
messed up life.

Why couldn't things never have changed? If she hadn't gone in to
surprise Mulder that night. . .if she had just stayed at home, she'd
have never known about his unfaithfulness.

Never have known.

They could have lived on together, whole and happy. Grace with both her
parents all the time, and Scully with her blithe innocence.

Innocence.

Shaking her head and remembering their talk in the kitchen that night,
the way he had blamed her for parts of their failures, and rightfully
so.

No, this would have happened eventually. Everything had been spiralling
out of control, nose-diving to this very event.

She supposed she didn't want him lying to her either. 

The truth was better, right? They had fought for it in the past twelve
years, dedicated their lives to uncovering the truth.

To live in a lie would be. . .

bliss.

She closed her eyes and slumped to the floor with the shame of it.

Bliss.

Why couldn't she never have known?
~~~~

She opened her eyes.

Awake.

She was awake.

Her room was dark, the deep darkness of late night or almost early
morning, with the moon obscured by hours and the stars dull and
shineless.

She sat up, heart thudding loudly.

A sound made her breath pause, her pulse quicken.

The window.

She crept out of bed, her feet touching the cold carpet with haste,
wishing she had her gun closer than the top shelf of the closet.

The noise came sharply again.

A rock hitting the window.

Going to it, she yanked aside the curtains, then carefully peaked out
the window.

A man stood below, shivering in the chill, bending down to pick up
another pebble from the yard.

She peered down and realized it was Mulder.

Pulling up the blinds, she unlocked the window, hefting it with a grunt
as the paint came unstuck.

He had just reared back to throw, arm poised above, when her head stuck
out the window, hair billowing out in the wind.

"Scully!"

She hissed something to him and he squinted, trying to understand.

"What are you doing?" she said a bit louder.

"I didn't want to wake your Mom or Gracie."

She rolled her eyes and told him to stay there.

Turning from the window, she shivered in the draft, goose bumps rising
on her arms.

She grabbed some jeans that were hanging over a chair and stuffed them
on beneath her nightgown. She pulled that off and walked half naked to
the chest of drawers for her bra and a shirt.

Then she yanked a sweatshirt on top of all of it, and shoved her tennis
shoes on without socks.

All the while, she wondered what he was doing at her mother's house at
twelve o'clock in the morning.

She tiptoed down the hall stairs and to the front door, unlocking it as
gently as possible. The resounding click made her wince with how loud it
was, and she paused there, waiting.

Her very breath seemed to be too loud, and she eased the door open, then
the storm door.

No one woke.

She closed the door behind her, then turned around.

She gasped at the face so close to her own.

Closing her eyes, breathig sharply, she rested a hand on his chest, as
if to push him away.

"Mulder."

"Scully."

She opened her eyes, and she was composed once more.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for you."

She moved away from him, needing to keep his energy away from her. He
always could make her almost dizzy with his nearness.

She sat on the porch, letting her feet dangle above the flowerbeds.

He leaned against the pillar and watched her.

The night was darker than it had been earlier, with the stars looking
tired of shining, the moon beginning to set.

The paint on her mother's house was peeling at the foundation, the grey
smoothness marred by chips of dirt and bare concrete.

"What is it you want from me?"

She turned to see him, her mouth like metallic roses in the faint light
as she spoke.

"I almost killed myself tonight."

Her breath caught in her throat and she grew angry and frightened all 
at once.

"What is that? Are you trying to make me feel guilty, Mulder? Well, I
do. Congratulations."

"No. No, I'm not here to blame you. I'm here to rejoice with you. I
almost killed myself tonight, but I didn't. I figured everything out,
Scully. I understand myself and I can beat this now. But . . . I need
you to help me."

She turned to him, wanting to rise and go to him, but feeling as if she
were in a giant spider web.

And Mulder was probably the black widow.

"Help you?"

"I need your help. I can't get past this without you, Scully. I don't
know why. No, I *do* know why. You're my life, Scully. Without you, I
have nothing."

He was talking erratically, running his hands through his hair, pleading
with her in a voice she could never deny.

The wind made the prickly bushes growing along the house sigh, and move
closer to her, snagging her legs with their spiked leaves.

He pushed away from the pillar and walked up to her, squatting suddenly
to be on her eye level.

"I'm asking for your help as my friend, Scully. But more importantly, as
my wife."

She could feel the pain even then, even as he begged for her, and she
could hear the sounds of his words as he'd told her he'd been
unfaithful.

But she was breathing in every one of his exhalations, smelling the very
crazy essence of him, watching the centers of his eyes as he urged her.

She closed her eyes, felt the edges of the porch under her fingers,
along the backs of her legs, shivered in the cutting wind.

"What do you need me to do?"

He laughed and grabbed her in a fierce hug, forgetting everything
between them, delighting in this one victory.

She let herself be swept away by his storm.
~~~~

Karen Kosoff was shocked to see both of them that morning, despite the
fact that Mulder was standing as far from Scully as she could get him,
and that they both had sour looks on their faces.

"I'm back," Mulder said needlessly, his words soft and submissive.

Karen turned to Agent Scully.

"Dana, do you want to be here?"

Scully's face blanched and Karen thought that maybe, secretly, she
didn't.

But she was doing it for him, for them.

It was admirable, to say the most, and somewhat pathetic too.

"Yes," she replied, and set her face into a determined mask.

Karen shrugged and led them into the office.

Mulder sat in his customary place on the couch, and Scully in her
straight backed chair, the one piece of furniture that probably said the
most about her.

Kosoff smiled brightly and turned to Scully.

"So, did Agent Mulder tell you why you're here?"

"Yes. He almost killed himself."

Her brows raised, noting Scully's dejected look and Mulder's guilty
face.

"Oh?"

Mulder cleared his throat.

"I, uh. I wasn't going to come back. But I was alone in our house and
thinking and I picked up my gun, not even really thinking about pointing
it at myself, and then, all of a sudden, I wanted it to end. I just
wanted it to end. With that gun there and me there and nothing seeming
to go right, I just sat there and trembled. And I put it in my mouth,
and sat there. I sat there."

Mulder dropped his head, ashamed at telling this in front of Scully.

"And then, all I could see was Grace. See Grace forever asking what
happened to Daddy. And I couldn't. I may have done a lot of stupid
things in my life, but Grace isn't one of them. Leaving her is."

Scully turned her head, tears streaming down both cheeks, ragged sighs
escaping with her breath.

Mulder sat back.

Kosoff looked first to him, then to Scully.

"Dana, how does that make you feel?"

Her face turned, and she saw anger there, furious and indignant.

But her voice started out quietly, soft.

"It makes me sick. That he can be so calm about it. Calm. When *I* would
have been the one they called, to come identify his bloody remains. And
I would have been the one to autopsy him, he knows I wouldn't have let
it go at suicide. I would have had to look at Grace, our little girl,
and tell her that Daddy is *never* coming back. . .never coming back."

Her sobs caught up with her words and she hunched over in her seat,
trying to hide them.

She had to continue though.

"And what did he think about? Grace. Having Grace go fatherless. That's
all. Not that *I* might hurt. That I do hurt."

Mulder was feeling her anger leech into him, her arrogant sense of
righteousness.

"How the hell am I to even know you hurt, Scully? Huh? How am I to know
when you never tell me. . .when you never even look at me anymore?"

Her head snapped up, eyes flaming, nostrils wide with crying and anger.

She spit out: "How can I look at you after all you've done?"

His head bowed, anger blew from him like air from a balloon.

He slumped in the chair, utterly exhausted.

She wanted to apologize, but she didn't. She just sat there, stone cold
again.

Kosoff shifted in her chair and they both glanced to her, staring as if
they'd forgotten she was even there.

"Dana. You're angry at what he's done?"

"Yes," The word was laced with fury.

"Why do you clam up then? Why don't you tell him that?"

She was silent, having nothing to say.

"No. Don't decide to drop it now. You brought it up. Tell him what he's
done wrong. Tell him why you hate him."

"I don't hate him!"

The words came from her with such conviction, such surprise, that it
made Mulder look up, for the first time feeling that maybe she didn't.

"He thinks you do."

"I don't! I love him," she said, glancing over to Mulder, eyes pleading
to set the woman straight.

"You still do?" he said, voice awed.

She felt like she was going to sob again. "Of course, Mulder. Just
because you hurt me doesn't mean it makes it turn off. There's no valve.
Believe me, at times I *want* to."

He blinked. "Why do you want it to stop?"

She gaped at him. "Because it *hurts*."

He shrugged, moving his shoulders as if her were trying to cast off a
heavy burden.

"Isn't that what love is?" he said finally, glancing hesitantly into her
eyes for confirmation.

She sat there silently, rocked to the core.

"Love isn't supposed to hurt," she whispered, but she wasn't sure.

He shook his head, remembering his own childhood and his life before
her.

"It always has. It always will. You just have to take the good out of it
and move on."

She shook her head. "I don't want this to hurt. It wouldn't be *worth*
it."

He smiled softly at her, at the way her hair spilled around her cheeks,
dried of tears, smiling at the awe in her voice.

"It's worth it, Scully. It's worth the feeling I get waking up next to
you, worth holding Gracie in my arms. It's worth almost killing myself
and screaming at you when all I want to do is kiss you."

Breathing through her mouth, eyes turning deep blue again, she stared at
him, felt something stir.

It was resignation.

She felt the words leave her lips in shudders.

"No. No it's not worth it."

She closed her eyes, let her body slump into the chair, and wished it to
all be over.
~~~~

There was silence reigning proudly, its sceptor the golden light of the
sun warming them.

She raised a hand to her brow, biting her lip as Mulder stared at her,
her words seeming to bounce around the room, knocking over dignity and
maiming innocence.

He closed his eyes, shut out the sight of her grief, tried to comprehend
her statement.

It wouldn't process, wouldn't and couldn't be accepted.

"I don't believe that," he said. 

She looked at him.

"I don't think you believe it either."

She hung her head, rubbed the ridges of her eyes with a thumb.

"When we get past this, Scully. When it ends, we'll be better and bigger
and stronger. It's always been that way. Every awful case, every trying
time we've had only pulls us that much closer."

She looked up, opened her mouth to say something, to remind him of the
many times where things simply degenerated into spirals of uneasiness.

But he was eagerly pressing on, refuting her claim as always. This was
how it happened between them. She was able to look at reality, and he
wanted to believe the fantasy.

"Scully, remember Antarctica? That seemed hopeless. I never thought I'd
find you. But we made it. We made it."

She shook her head. "And after all that? We lost the X-Files. We lost
each other. We couldn't talk about what happened right outside your
apartment, we couldn't agree on anything. Diana . . ."

Her breath caught and she bit her lip.

"Diana came between us then, just as now."

He frowned, shaking his head. "But we overcame that. So maybe we never
agreed as to what happened. Maybe you never did back me up with the
physical proof we needed. But we overcame."

She looked at him as if he were an idiot.

"I never backed you up? Is that how you see it? Mulder, we did not
overcome anything. We forgot. We let go of it and pretended it never
happened. See where pretending has gotten us? With twelve years of
emotions and hurt and accusations bottled so tight, we don't even know
it anymore."

"But, Scully, those things don't *matter* to us anymore. It makes no
difference whether or not we have proof, or connections, or even if I
was right or you were right. I love you. Without a doubt. Forever.
That's what matters. That's what counts."

She wanted to agree, wanted to forget everything again.

"We can't go on just ignoring every problem we come up against. Pretty
soon we'll be surrounded by problems, and going nowhere," she answered.

"I really don't have a problem with going nowhere. As long as it's with
you."

"That's just it. You *do* have a problem with it. You do. Our hidden
problems made you go seek out Diana, our hidden problems tear us apart.
And you're never content to sit back and do nothing."

He gave a sigh and then leaned back in the chair.

His lips shaped the question he didn't want to ask: "So, you think this
isn't worth it?"

"That's not it. I think that ignoring this, pretending we're okay again,
is not going to lead anywhere. I think it's only going to make us hurt
worse later on. And *that's* not worth it now."

She glanced nervously to Karen Kosoff, wondering if this was right, or
if she was just making things. . .worse.

The woman's eyebrow was raised and she nodded thoughtfully.

"So what do we do now?" Mulder asked, glancing not at Scully, but at the
psychologist sitting there demurely.

"We work this out," she answered calmly.

Mulder looked to Scully.

Scully stared at him.

They glaned to Karen.

"All right. How do we start?"
~~~~

Scully arrived at her mother's house just minutes before Mulder, feeling
exhausted and pained, but with a sense of quiet calm that reached down
into her soul.

They were going to make it.

They were going to be all right.

Her mother came in from the living room to greet her, giving her a kiss
on each cheek, noting the marked change in her daughter.

"How's everything?" she said.

Scully smiled as Mulder's car pulled into the driveway.

"Mulder's going to stay in Grace's room tonight. Grace can sleep with
me."

Margaret Scully beamed, then went to the laundry room for fresh towels
and sheets.

Grace ran to meet her, excited as she watched her Daddy walk in the
door.

"Hey Gracie!"

"Daddy!" she shrieked and threw herself into his legs.

Laughing, Mulder picked her up, swinging her around and feeling good.

Or at least, better than he had last night.

"Grace, what have you been doing?" he asked, tucking her tight beside
him, kissing her cheek fondly.

She squirmed and rubbed his jaw.

"You need a shave, Daddy."

He smiled and pushed his chin into her face, scratching her.

She giggled and pushed out of his arms and onto the floor, running to
the living room.

Mulder looked to Scully, giving her a shy smile and a soft look.

That one glance was electric, made her freeze to the spot, but hot to
the core.

Grace came back in with her coloring book, flipping intently through the
pages and missing the look travelling between her parents.

She walked to her father, bumping into his leg as she anxiously looked
for the pages she had colored, standing very still.

Absently, Mulder placed his hand to her head, holding her firmly, his
eyes still on Scully.

Grace glanced up, his hand slipping with her hair, and she watched them
for a moment.

Smiling, their daughter laughed, then grabbed Scully's hand. She yanked
on her fingers and brought her mother closer to her father.

Mulder reached out tentatively for Scully, his hand coming to rest on
her waist, the air thick enough to swallow.

His thumb made lazy lines along the top of her jeans, dipping in to her
belly button and then away.

She stood very still, breathing in the new charge around them. This was
not their old desire, not the chemical attraction that had linked them
in the beginning.

It was something new.

He leaned forward, moving only inches in hours, his lips quirking over
hers.

Grace stood absolutely still, Mulder's hand still resting atop her head.
She saw Gramma in the doorway, stopped dead still with towels in her
arms.

Scully pushed up and in, and their lips touched.

Grazed.

Glanced off the slightly wet surfaces, whispering as they met.

Moving apart, but not stepping away, he was drowning in her eyes.

"Good night, Scully."

She blinked, then turned for her bedroom, dazed.
~~~~

~~~~

"Deepening shadows gather splendor as day is done
Fingers of night will soon surrender the setting sun. . .
Deep in the dark your kiss will thrill me like days of old,
Lighting the spark of love that fills me with dreams untold.
Each day I pray for evening just to be with you
Together at last at Twilight Time."
--"Twilight Time", Words and Music by Buck Ram, Morty and Al Nevins, and
Artie Dunn

~~~~

Deepening shadows gathered fears, not splendor, and Scully felt the
fingers of night crawling up and down her spine.

She twisted in the bed, then slipped from it, trying not to wake Grace.

It felt eerily familiar.

She didn't know what to do.

She liked having the distance between them not so far anymore, and she
really liked that kiss in the foyer, but it seemed so out of place.

Everything was disjointed again, missing pieces.

Mulder still had problems. She still had problems.

But for the first time, those problems didn't seem like such a big deal.

Sure it had taken a whole three weeks of counseling to get there, and
sure, there were still problems that needed addressing, but they didn't
weigh her down.

She was forgiving and forgetting.
~~~~

Mulder paced the blue bedroom, deep in the darkness of his memories.

He wished that things would go faster. He wanted to hurry up and go
home, find his family waiting there, have Scully at work with him to
tease, at home to talk to and make love to.

He missed her.

They spent a lot of time together, at Kosoff's, trying to go through the
past, digging up old land mines and sometimes safely detonating them,
sometimes not.

But they didn't just sit down and watch television, or play with Grace,
or do the dishes.

They didn't sit on the couch and have those good long silences that
could always reaffirm his existence.

Mulder found himself at the door, thinking about her.

He opened it and slipped out into the hallway.

Glancing to his left, he saw her easing shut her own door.

They smiled.
~~~~

Safe in the blue room, the covers pulled tightly around them, Mulder
watched her breathe softly in the night.

Nighttime seemed to be the safest for them. In the dark, he could hide
the guilt and the bad, and she could pretend to not feel the hurt.

He drew his arm tighter around her and she turned slightly, pushing her
nose into his chest.

"I miss you," she said, knowing that their tentative steps toward
reconciliation were still ongoing.

"I miss you too." He whispered it close to her ear, then moved his lips
to touch her hair.

She shivered and he stopped, understanding, realizing things had to be
slow for her.

Her arms twisted under the sheets and she pulled them out, resting them
along his length, then circling his waist.

He met her sigh with his own, then kissed her softly on the forehead,
unable to help himself.

"I realize this will be hard to get over," he said.

He intended to say more, but she silenced him with a palm to his lips,
her eyes blank and emotionless.

"Let's not talk about it."

He nodded and closed his eyes, feeling her hand trail down his lips and
chin, to his side.

He knew this kind of defense mechanism. Forget it happened and pretend
it meant nothing.

They could do this, just for tonight, just enough to get them through
another three or four or five weeks or months of counseling, of
screaming insults and fears and tears at each other.

Just this night of shared comfort, given to keep the hurt at bay.

He pulled her closer, brushed closed her eyes with a hand, then placed a
kiss at her lips, sighing.

She snuggled deeper into him and thought of nothing.

He felt sleep creeping in to smother him.
~~~~

Waking slowly, mouth tasting like stale Coke, Mulder blinked in the
light.

Scully was standing in front of the window, her form outlined so
perfectly by the sun that he was reminded of the night he had come to
ask her help.

That night, the moon coming in her window, he had seen her get dressed,
pulling off her top and walking naked to the chest of drawers.

That night, he'd felt guilty for looking.

This morning, he didn't.

But when she turned around, her look made him go cold.

"I'm going back to bed," she said softly, and moved for the door. "I
didn't want you to wake up alone, though."

Giving him one last thoughtful look, she turned and went through the
open door, shutting it firmly behind her.

He glanced to the clock.

Only five.

Rolling over, Mulder inhaled the scent of her left on the pillows.

It was enough.

Enuough for now.
~~~~

Rift 3: Restore

This set is for Melissa.

~~~~
Restore
~~~~

"Renew my love,
rebuild my faith,
oh, restore my soul."
--"Renew My Spirit, Lord" Church Hymn

~~~~

Dana Scully sat in front of the floor length mirror, half dressed,
stilled from the rest of the morning by the reflection of herself.

She saw her button shirt halfway on her shoulders, white bra straps
peaking from the cloth, and the smooth expanse of her stomach before it
disappeared into black cotton Hanes.

She took a deep breath and watched her form in the flat plane of the
mirror, the way her chest rose and her ribs showed faintly and her lips
parted.

This was her.

This was Dana Scully, the very body and life that she seemed to lose
sight of every time tragedy struck.

She had a faint tan line running at the very tops of her thighs, from
where she had gotten a bad sunburn while scuba diving off the reefs near
San Pedro. She'd been eighteen and fully sunblocked, with short swimming
trunks on and her bathing suit. Even now, she remembered the sting of
that burn, the way it had itched like ants crawling along her skin until
she scratched, then it burned like hellfire and acid.

She had a small freckle on her side, seen only if she lifted her arm,
and it seemed very dark next to the white of her skin. She remembered
the scare everyone had when she was twelve and it suddenly appeared. Her
doctor had thought it might be cancerous. It hadn't been, but surely it
had been an ominous warning.

Slumping further on the bed, she tried to recall how Mulder touched her,
and where, and why. He had kissed her forehead often, a good place to
reach from his height, and she almost could feel the exact place, as if
his lips were engraved there.

She could even sense his wide hands, spread broad along her back as she
threw up, pregnant with Grace, and the coolness and relief they brought
with just a touch.

At her neck, at the grooves of her skull, along her hairline.

He'd claimed every part of her with hands and fingers and lips and
length.

So, now, who *was* the woman in the mirror?

Maybe a combination of childhood illness and scars and sunburns, and
maybe a kind of temple, where all of Mulder was engraved in some ancient
script, to be dicphered at her death.

Letting her thumb trace her kneecap, she remembered how his hands had
traced her skin, how his lips had burned into her, how things had never
seemed wrong or right in his arms -- just there.

There.

Things grew and breathed and lived and became, and no matter how much
she hurt, how much she laughed, she could find peace with him.

She could find herself.

His storm and she the eye, the center, the place that belied the awesome
power to come.

She was all those things with him.

And none of those things without.

Looking back into the mirror, the woman before her moved slightly,
pushed on the shirt, buttoned it up with slow, steady hands. Her mouth
quirked and her head never raised and her thighs trembled on the bed.

Scully glanced away and wondered what had happened to that woman.

What had happened to them all.
~~~~

Muler was there alone, his face twisted as he attempted to find
something to talk over, something that would purge him of the sense of
melancholy settling into him like snow in a ditch.

Karen Kosoff twirled her pen in two fingers then glanced to the mantle
clock set on her desk.

"Look, Mulder. Something's obviously bothering you, and you can't talk
about it to me. So why don't you go to your wife, and talk to her?"

She was frustrated, feeling uptight. Mulder simply wasn't getting
anywhere at all, and he refused to let her in very far.

Refused to let anyone in very far. Except for maybe Scully.

Mulder looked to her, the flash of disappointment in his eyes enough to
make Karen wince.

"I can't. It's about her."

"Seems to me that *everything* is about her."

He sighed and pushed his back into the chair, rolling his neck.

"I suppose. But what will happen if it's not in a controlled setting?"

"If what's not controlled?"

"Our talk."

Karen gaped at him. "Do you mean to tell me that you *never* talk to her
outside this counseling session?"

He frowned, then looked at her slyly.

"Is that a bad thing?"

She sighed and buried her head in her hands.

"Yes. Yes, that is a very bad thing. The whole point of this is to get
you to talk. Didn't you tell me that part of the surface problem was
that you never talk?"

Mulder shifted in his chair. "Uh. Yeah."

"So when you go home. . .what do you do?"

"Look after Grace."

"And she stays at her mother's?"

"Uh, well. Yes. But I've been staying there too."

"You're in the same house and you don't even talk to her!?" she gaped,
feeling as if everything she tried to work through with those two was
falling apart.

"It's not really our nature. We do a lot of fighting in here. When we
get home, we just want to stop."

He sounded defensive.

"And so, I suppose you do this after work too. After all those cases
that are positively gruesome, that take so much emotional energy and
physical energy out of both of you. . . .after all that, you don't say a
word?"

"Not usually. We never needed to before."

"You never went home together before."

He grimaced and sighed, giving her a conceding look.

"Go home. Talk. Explain to her what you think is going on. Maybe she'll
say something back, maybe she won't feel like she needs to. But you need
to talk. Mulder. . . .what a pair."

He took that as a sign to leave, and stood, gathering his coat and
gloves.

She stopped him just as he turned the knob.

"Mulder, remember what I told you before?"

"When was that?"

"When I said you needed to ask for her help?"

"Mm, something about how she needed to know I was doing something to
make it better. . ."

Karen knew she was going to say something mean, but she was feeling
rather nasty and difficult. He deserved it though.

"Right. Now, let's see. If you go home and never say anything, never get
past any of the points we raise here, then how is she to ever know
you're doing something to make it better? You haven't changed. Not one
bit."

He sighed, watched Karen's face reflected in the window, her brow
knitted tightly together.

She wasn't being fair.

He had changed. Volumes. More than anyone had a right to and still be
the same person.

"I've changed. I am still changing. And every day it makes me see that
the  more I change, the less I like myself. Changing who I am to please
her would be wrong. And she knows that."

He twisted the knob, pulled open the door, and walked from the room,
feeling sick and trampled.

He really *had* needed to change, to stop this perverted hunger from
swallowing him up. But. . .to change *who* he was and not merely *what*
he was. . . .

If keeping his marriage together meant becoming someone entirely
different, then how could it ever work? Scully had married him, for
himself, for who he was, and it had taken long enough for him to realize
that she meant it.

That she wanted him. As him.

Changing that would be wrong.
~~~~
~~~~

"Tina says I wish that I had never seen your smile
your name is written on my soul in alphabetic file. . .
Any time I talk to you there's no one listening
every time I reach for you there's no one there
and everywhere I look for you, you're no where to be found."
--"How Do You Tell Someone?" Couwboy Mouth

~~~~

She couldn't help it this time.

Couldn't have changed the outcome even if she had tried.

And she hadn't tried. Hadn't even let him try either.

All they were doing was fighting with words instead of hurt. All they
could see was hurt instead of healing.

She closed the door to her room, wishing to have the peacefulness of her
own apartment again. At least there she could hide when things got to be
too much.

He had come in, overly concerned because of the counseling, sensitive,
touchy, every word and gesture something that had to be thought through,
something to analyze to death.

She just wanted that old feeling back, that wonderful sense of never
knowing just what he might say, or where he might lead her next.

Not so much that, as she really wanted to relax.

Relax.

The fight could have been avoided. She could have ducked out earlier,
let him have his concern and his walking on eggshells.

But that wasn't her. And she was tired of being someone else.

Laying down heavily on the bed, she curled her hands around the thick
red polar fleece blanket, rubbed it across her cheek. The room seemed to
be her only haven, but its confines something she dreaded too.

She pulled her knees up, biting her bottom lip, praying that he didn't
try to come after her today, that he didn't pursue this anymore.

In the old days, if she was hurting because of him, they'd separate,
cool off, find new ways of doing the same old things. Never would Mulder
have come after her, like a beggar for love, and never would she have
cried.

She wasn't a crier. Ever.

Things had a way of changing.

Pulling the blanket around her tight, she closed her eyes.

He popped into her head immediately, but at a different time, a younger
time. There was her apartment, where she felt safe, even with everything
that had happened there.

He was walking in the door; she felt nervouse, anxious.

He had said they should get married, right out of the blue like that,
and now she wasn't sure if he was kidding or not, serious or laughing.

In his arms there had been a small bag, a cream color plastic with green
writing. She was watching him come closer and all the while his words
were repeating in her head.

<We should get married.>

Nothing more than that and she wondered. Of course she wondered.

He got down on his knees in front of her couch, placed the package in
her hands, his face bordering on frightened.

She had opened it, right there, pulled out a book.

A play, actually. "The Night Thoreau Spent In Jail."

She couldn't remember the author, but she'd been puzzled, expecting some
elaborate thing from him, some kind of official proposal, and this book
appeared.

He had asked her to read it, right then. It was short, and maybe it
would take an hour.

She was confused, hesitant, but his face was pleading, his eyes afraid.
He was thinking she'd refuse and this was the only way he could say what
he meant.

So, nodding, a little curious, she had let him on the couch with her,
let him hold her as she read it, slowly, cover to cover.

The play was somewhat theatre of the absurd, but not hard to follow, and
it jumped around playing out Henry David Thoreau's life. It was a kind
of flashback with David sitting in his jail cell and thinking about what
had gotten him there.

David reminded her of Mulder, talking forever about truth and honor and
true living. He was put in jail for refusing to pay back taxes, claiming
that he didn't support the war the government was paying for, so he
wasn't going to pay to support the government.

Mulder had not read over her shoulder, and she was allowed to enjoy the
play and its minor and major treasures all by herself. There were sudden
insights and wonderful truths in that little work, and she laughed and
wanted to cry, but didn't.

In one scene, David is explaining transcendentalism to a girl he's
fallen in love with, and the way he had spoke of it in the play seemed
to be so beautiful to Scully, so right and good.

She didn't remember the words or the way he put it, but it left her with
the sense that all human souls could become anything, could rise up and
be one with ta greater purpose, could transcend the barriers of the
physical body and be so in tune with another human being that it was
almost unreal.

When she had finished, he had put the book aside and taken her hands
with his larger, thinner fingers and held her for awhile, gathering
courage.

Then he spoke.

"David talks about love in that book, about the kind of love I feel for
you, much better than I could say it, Scully. Trascending all kinds of
things, all kinds of fears and failings and faults. I feel that with
you. I can fly, I can leave all this behind and never look back because
I know that with you, there are so many greater and greater things to
discover."

After he had said that, his chest vibrating against her back, she was
silent, breathing slowly.

When he turned her around, she had tears drifting slowly from her
cheeks, and it was the first time she had ever *wanted* to cry in front
of him, the first time she felt he could be allowed to see her
vulnerable.

And then they had gotten married, right in the middle of the night like
that, quiet and sure.

Scully sighed and shifted in the bed, brought the blanket closer to her
and thought about that night.

Quiet and sure.

She had read that play only once, choosing to let its memories just soak
into her like healing bath salts, and even though it was the deepest
probe into Mulder's mind she had ever found, she never picked it up
again.

They were quiet and sure.

Standing suddenly, she needed that book.

She had to have it, to pore over it and find out why it hadn't worked,
why they weren't quiet or sure anymore.

She'd read about David and end up figuring out Mulder. 

If she read that scene again, where David describes Mulder's kind of
love, then maybe she could find it again, maybe she could grasp that
fleeting image of flying.

Quiet and sure, transcending all barriers.

She ran to the door, pulled it open and heedlessly ran down the stairs.

Grabbing shoes and stuffing them on as she ran, Scully paid no attention
to her mother staring wildly at her, or Grace gripping a crayon tightly
in her small hand.

She didn't even see Mulder coming for her until he was there, not
blocking her but close.

Blinking away tears of near desperation, she pushed him away.

"Scully. . ."

"Going to the house. . .just a minute, please."

He backed off, more stunned than accepting.

She never really said please for anything, it wasn't their way.

Scully stumbled from the door, shivering the icey blast of wind,
forgetting that her coat was in the closet.

But she had to get that play, find that scene, figure out what went
wrong. David hadn't married his love in the play, and Mulder had.

She'd figure it out, figure it out.

The car was warmer by the time she got to the interstate.
~~~~

Mulder looked to Mrs. Scully, then back at Grace.

She was running up to him, clutching fearfully.

"I'm going to get your momma, Grace. Stay here."

"Why? Why do I have to always get left behind?"

Mulder felt it like ice through his soul and he bent down, taking her by
the shoulders.

"Not left behind, Gracie. Never baby. I just need to talk to Mommy for a
little bit. So we can get it all out once and for all."

He stood straight again, and shrugged on his coat, kissing her hands as
he did.

She backed away, then buried her head in Mrs. Scully's thigh, closing
her eyes to the sight.

Mulder left, pulling quickly out the driveway and slipping along the
largely iced over street.

The house. The house.

She had to find something at the house.
~~~~
~~~~

"see where he moves
he leaves a wake of tears
see in the path of his going
the banners of regret. . ."
--"my lost father" Lucille Clifton

~~~~

He'd stubbed his toe hard on the doorframe as he left, but he hadn't
felt it until he got to the interstate, pushing in the gas pedal to nose
the car up to eighty.

It hurt.

That was a strange feeling, the throbbing of his toe against the
vibrations of the engine, as the blood rushed throughout his body,
looking for something to repair, just as the gasoline raced through the
car, looking for a place to start.

He wriggled his toes and then frowned, feeling a headache to go along
with his pained toe.

Such mundane things, this headache, this toe.

He couldn't understand why such simple things seemed so important right
now. Hie toe throbbing wasn't nearly as life threatening as Scully
running from the house, coatless and senseless.

The road gave way to a sudden snow and he watched it spin little devils
across the road, not sure what the flurries would be called. Dirt
devils? Snow devils? Seemed strange, worrying over what to call the snow
blowing along the ground when she was somewhere miles ahead, driving.

He turned on the radio, as if he needed the sound to landmark time, to
tell him that yes, he was driving after Scully in real life, and yes,
this hell had really happened to them.

Everything in the past few months seemed like a dream, a nightmare that
just never stopped, kept getting worse and worse.

Worse and worse.

But with Grace's words, her pitiful wish not to be left behind anymore,
the glaring truth and reality of it had hit him full on.

Along with the doorway, but that was just a toe.

And a headache.

This was the rest of not only his life, but Scully's and Grace's as
well.

And if a punch in the gut like Grace's words could get him to wake up,
then he'd gladly suffer through a throbbing toe and a mild skull
pounding.

Listening to the radio reminded him of Grace, of his little girl's first
car ride, her coos along to the music as if she were really singing.

And Scully laughing from the backseat as she watched their daughter.
Swearing that she was 'dancing, Mulder, dancing.'

<She's dancing, Mulder. Look.>

He'd been driving, all alone in the front seat, glancing back when he
could, having excuses to check his rear view mirrors.

There was Grace, wriggling in her tiny seat, just as she wriggled when
she was fed, her nose wrinkled and mouth open, laughing almost.

Not quite. As a psychologist, he knew babies didn't develop the sense of
laughter until later, but as a father, she was laughing and dancing.

<Dancing, Mulder, dancing.>

Coasting home from the hospital, his girls in the back, laughing, both
of them, he had felt oblivious, unfettered, the most free and crazy and
loving since he had told Scully they ought to get married and she had
said yes.

Later, with Gracie being walked to sleep on his shoulder, Scully
watching from the rocking chair, he'd almost fallen to his knees,
crying.

He'd felt awful, sick, like he would throw up right there. Scully had to
take her and hush her back to sleep while Mulder asked for forgiveness,
over and over, begging.

Because on the way home, he hadn't even been paying attention, not at
all. He'd had his own family, the most precious things in the world with
him in that car and he hadn't even been paying attention, too caught up
in the laughing and dancing to even notice stop signs and street lights.

He didn't remember a single thing from that car ride except laughing and
dancing.

And it made him sick.

Scully had laughed at him, put Grace down and let her cry for a moment
before she fell asleep. She had laughed that rich sound of the car and
of other rare ocassions that made him feel better anyway.

She trusted him, she said. And they were fine. It was okay to feel
nervous about Grace's safety, with all the bad things that had happened.

She had said all that and kissed him and they had made love, the baby
moniter propped next to the bed just in case.

And then Scully got up a half hour later to feed, Mulder the next hour,
and on and on until he wondered if babies ever stopped crying or
feeding.

Even though he had felt awful for that one moment, Scully had never made
him feel awful about the way he took care of Grace, never made him feel
inexperienced or unqualified or clumsy.

He knew there were times he had been, and there still were. But she
accepted his mistakes, just as Grace did.

But this mistake could not be accepted, and it could not be erased.

They were going to have to quit trying to forget, and simply try to
live.

At least for Grace's sake.
~~~~

With the rough grain of the front door under her hand, she felt calmer.

Sighing in a breath of pine and oak and dust, she pushed her way inside,
biting her lip to wait for the feeling that always hit her.

It came in a rush.

Home.

This was her home, her life, her entire sanity, right here.

She shut the door and ran shaking fingers through her hair, brushing out
the snowflakes and making her way to the stairs.

Everything was clean, almost as she had left it, but usually, nothing
was ever as she had left it.

Not with both Mulder and a child in the house.

She started up the stairs, running her hands along the banister, and
paused midway, staring.

She'd automatically been picking up, grabbing the sweater left on the
bottom step, snatching a Barbie from the railing, and collecting a pile
of People magazines from the floor.

It was habit. Come home from work and tidy up a bit and straighten
things and she felt better. Felt more in control after the day's
caseload.

It was part of how Dana Scully worked things out. A part of how she
accepted the things that troubled her and resolved whatever problems she
might have been struggling with.

She didn't always need to sit down and spill her guts on every single
subject.

Laughing, she bounded up the rest of the stairs, feeling more alive
after her discovery. Feeling as if maybe their communication problem
wasn't such a huge scary thing. More of a different sort.

Placing things were they belonged, she worked her way to Mulder's
library/study, where he worked on sifting through rejected X-Files or
old cases they'd not solved before, trying to find something paranormal
to hold their attention.

She ran a finger along the bookshelf, watching the dust pile up beneath
her skin, but blowing it off and letting it fall to the floor.

Stooping to the bottom shelf, she peered there, looking for the play,
feeling an urgency rise in her that she hadn't felt since entering.

A noise made her turn and she saw Mulder there, standing relaxed in the
doorway, his eyebrows raised.

"Whatchya doin'?" he asked, like a little kid trying to figure her out.

She smiled. "Looking for something."

"Important?"

"Very."

He remained silent as she scanned the shelf, then the next one up, all
the way to the top.

When she turned her face to him, he saw an uncanny look of fear steal
across her eyes.

She bit her lip and he moved with her to the bedroom, watching her
perform the same inspection on the bookcases in there.

She straightened almost immediately, and he noticed she was close to
tears.

"I can't find it." 

He cocked his head and his eyes asked her what she was looking for.

"It's important, Mulder. That play you made me read. I need it."

He frowned; he had made her read a lot of things, from alien abduction
accounts to "Crime and Punishment."

"What?"

She stared at him for a moment. "Thoreau. Thoreau. Where's that play?"

His lips turned into a grin. "Oh. His night in jail. I'm not sure. I
thought you had it. I read it about three years ago."

She felt herself getting sick; she reached out a hand to steady herself
on the bookcase.

He grabbed her instead and sat her on the bed. 

"You want to read that again?"

She opened her mouth to say yes, to explain it all, but she couldn't.

Jsut couldn't.

"No. I thought I did, but I think that would dull the memory."

His eyes got shy and he turned his head; she wasn't sure if he was
blushing or not.

"Did you . . . know what I meant?" he whispered and turned to her again.

She nodded. "Once. Maybe still."

"Still. I mean it still. It'll always be like that, Scully."

His eyes were intense, that same rich dark that he'd had when he'd given
her the play.

Reaching out, he grabbed hold of her ring, twisting it slightly until it
came off. He held it between his fingers and then looked at her through
its circle.

"I want you to be my wife, Scully. Transcending all this, all our
problems."

She watched him put the ring on her left finger, the wedding ring
finger, the one that told everyone everywhere that she was his.

Looking at it there for a moment, feeling the strange weight of it on
her finger, and the odd absence of it from her right hand, she had an
easiness descend on her, a calm placed right into her soul.

She took his wedding band and did the same, her breath coming fast as
she slipped the gold around his knuckle.

When she was finished, he caught her hands and kissed them slowly.

"Quiet and sure," she whispered and leaned in to the opening of his
arms.

He closed his eyes and felt his soul return.

They were closer to home.

Closer to right.
~~~~
~~~~

". . .i like to think
you are the oddness in us,
you are the arrow
that pierced our plain skin. . ."
--"daughters" Lucille Clifton

~~~~

Grace raced out of the bathroom, her hair still damp from being washed
and her face alight, pajamas already twisted on her small body.

"Daddy! Play that song."

Mulder obediently placed the record on the turntable, carefully
positioning the needle, then allowed it to play.

Scully watched from the floor as Grace froze, waiting for the music and
the words.

As soon as the opening strains of "American Pie" crackled through, she
closed her eyes and dropped to already bruised knees, mouthing words she
knew by heart.

Mulder watched to make sure it wouldn't skip, then moved to the floor
next to Scully, leaning back into the couch.

The first chords started slow and soulful and Grace looked radiant as
she stood again, timing her movements with the opening.

Mulder wanted to laugh, but he didn't dare, since Grace had been working
on the routine since eight o'clock that morning, going so far as to
bring the record with her to Mrs. Scully's so she could practice.

She'd made up the entire thing herself and Mulder had to admit that she
was good for a four year old.

A four year old with his awful rhythm genes.

He leaned in close to Scully, lips tickling her ear.

"Melissa must have had some kind of dancing ability because this doesn't
come from me."

She reared back, laughing at him, trying to hold it in as Grace
continued on, oblivious.

"Don't make me laugh," she hissed and faced front, pretending she didn't
see him.

"Hey, you think she could get your sister's psychic powers too?"

She elbowed him roughly in the ribs, causing his breath to whoosh out of
him like a jet engine. He rubbed his side and made pained noises but all
she did was watch Grace and secretly enjoy his attention.

When the song came to a halt, Grace was doing the splits, kind of, and
grinning like a Olympic gold winner, her face so bright and sunny that
it made his heart clench.

She hadn't laughed and been so excited in a long time.

Grace ran to Scully and dropped in her lap, threading her arms around
Scully's neck and receiving kisses.

"Great job, baby. You made that up all by yourself?"

"Uh-huh. All by myself. Not even Gramma helped me."

"I didn't think she had. You're a smart little thing."

"I'm not little. I'm big."

He pulled her from Scully's lap and tickled her, growling.

"I think you're pretty little. I'm the big guy. Your momma's small, and
you're little."

"Not-unh!" she shouted, giggling between her indignation.

Scully's eyebrow was raised and he grinned goofily at her.

She shook her head and watched them wrestle for a few moments, laughing
as Mulder gave up and Grace planted her feet on top of him, shouting.

"I chewed Goliath!"

"Slew, baby. You slew Goliath," she said through laughter.

But that made Scully laugh harder and she tried to push away her tears,
but before she could find reality again, Mulder was stalking her, Grace
on his shoulders.

"What do you find so funny?" he said, crawling towards her on the floor.

Grace was growling and clinging on to Mulder's chin, trying hard not to
laugh too.

Scully stood, scrambling to get away from him.

"If you tickle me, Mulder. . .I swear. . ."

Mulder grinned evilly and she backed up, considering her options.

As he closed in, she darted out to the side, grunting when he capture
her by the waist and pulled her to his chest.

"I'm not going to tickle ya," he whispered. "I'm going to eat you."

Grace leaned down and giggled at her height, then grabbed for Scully,
blood rushing to her head.

Scully squirmed and glanced up, seeing Grace right above her.

"Want to help me get away from Daddy?" she asked, grinning like it was
the best secret in the world.

Grace thought for a moment, then kissed her father's cheek.

"Nope. Daddy has to eat you first."

"Eew," Scully said and wrinkled her nose. 

That made Grace laugh and then Mulder laugh and soon they were all in a
pile on the kitchen floor, laughing.

<Laughing and dancing.>

Wiping her eyes, Scully stood, gathering Grace up in her arms.

"Come on baby, time for bed."

"Agh!"

"No screaming right next to Mommy's ear, hon."

"Oops."

Mulder snorted and Scully shot him a Look, and they all headed for the
stairs to put Grace to bed.

He bounced on her bed as Scully tucked Grace in, and then made faces at
her while Scully kissed her good night.

Then he wrapped a blanket around her body, tight tight, just as she
liked, and clicked off the bedside light.

She struggled to get her arms out and then hugged him fiercely.

"I love you Daddy."

"Love you more, Gracie."

Scully came up with her teddy bear, after crawling halfway under the
bed, and her little girl giggled, reaching out a hand to smooth her hair
back in place.

"Thanks, babe."

Scully placed the bear right in her arms, then bent down and kissed her
again, brushing her lips against her damp hair.

"Night night, Grace."

"Love you, Mommy."

"Mm. I love you too, hon."

She rose and followed Mulder from the bedroom, watching his back as he
turned off the hall lights, then they went downstairs to turn off the
stereo.

As he turned back around, she caught him in a hug.

He returned it sevenfold, inhaling the scent of laughter and daughter
and mother all combined into one.

"Gracie has a way of making everything all right, even if it isn't,"
Scully whispered into his chest, letting him practically crush her.

"Yes, she does. She's our miracle. . .and she's hyper. Which helps some
I think."

Scully chuckled and pulled back, letting him see the contentment in her
eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Scully. For putting all this in danger."

She closed her eyes, pushing herself past the pain that dragged up.

"It's getting better, Mulder. It's all getting better."

He was still holding her, running his fingers through her hair.

"But do you forgive me, Scully?"

She looked into his eyes, then bit her lip, an action she had been doing
a lot lately.

He let his finger trail along her teeth, unhook her lip from her bite,
smiling. She gave him a wry glance and sighed.

"I do forgive you. But if this hadn't. . .hadn't worked out somehow, I'd
never forgive you for hurting Grace. It's not so much me. . .but that
little girl up there."

He nodded and smoothed his thumb along the part of her lip she'd been
biting.

"What about the little girl in here?" he whispered, touching her chest,
right above her heart.

"She hides in the corner and only comes out to play with Gracie."

Mulder shifted his body to cradle her hips, making her lips swell as he
fingered them.

"Maybe she'll forgive me too?"

"I suppose she will."

Her face was flushed, her body hot and twitching in his grasp; she was
sure he could feel his effect on her.

He was nervous, trying not to push her into something she didn't want,
something she wasn't ready for. There was still a lot of pain, and many
problems, but they were back in their own home, sleeping in the same
bed.

"You know what I was thinking about?" she asked.

He shook his head, not trusting his voice, concentrating on her lips as
she spoke.

"About when you drove us home from the hospital and some song was on the
radio and she was dancing in her car seat, all wriggling and scrunching
up. And her dancing to "American Pie" made me remember that. It also
made me remember how you broke down crying that night. . ."

He nodded, feeling the question come before she asked.

"Were you asking forgiveness simply for not paying attention as you
drove. . .or for everything else that had happened?"

He leaned forward and caught the edge of her lip with his mouth, letting
his tongue trail.

"Maybe a bit of both, though I wasn't think of anything but the car at
the time," he whispered.

She nodded into kiss lazy kiss, her breath fast and hot into his open
mouth.

"I remembered what we did that night too. . .to let you forgive
yourself."

Mulder was only half understanding her words, but they were important.
Her hands began to show him how he could learn to forgive himself, and
he collided with her mouth, forgetting his carefully laid out plan of
going slow.

She replied with the same ferocity and animal need.

They helped each other forgive.
~~~~

He woke feeling strange, out of place.

When he glanced around, Mulder realized that was because he was on the
living room floor, mostly naked, with Scully draped over him. . .all
naked.

She was light, yes, and small, he'd told Grace that, but after hours of
being on his chest, he felt bruised.

He wrapped strong arms around her, causing her to wake slightly, and
moved to a sitting position.

She sucked in her breath like Gracie did as a baby, the content little
sigh after being fed that made him smile.

"Scully?"

"Hmm. . ."

He stood, balancing her against him, making her wake long enough to
drape the afghan over her shoulders.

"I'm taking us to bed," he murmured.

"M'kay."

He chuckled and picked her up, padding in his socks and dress shirt to
their bedroom, kicking his pants along ahead of him until they got stuck
in an end table and he gave up getting their clothes.

She jumped at the cold sheets and he wrapped the blanket around her,
then ran back for the rest of their clothes, thinking it not a good idea
to have Gracie asking about it in the morning.

Scully was somewhat awake when he came back in, her hair mussed by the
blanket and his arms, and she was trying very hard to stay partly awake.

He grinned and crawled into bed, sliding up next to her to get warm.

She shivered as his cooled off skin met her warm flesh, but moved into
him tightly, opening the blanket to accept him.

"Mmm, I think I needed that."

He laughed. "All right. I suppose I did too."

She was still half asleep, but he kissed her mouth anyway.

"Too tired, Mulder. . ."

He nestled his head on top of hers and wrapped his arms around her.

"Go to sleep, Scully. . ."

But he needn't have spoken; she was already gone.
~~~~
~~~~

"listen,
when i found there was no safety
in my father's house
i knew there was none anywhere.
you are right about this,
how i nurtured my work
not my self, . . ."
--"to my friend, jerina" Lucille Clifton

~~~~

She woke to his groan and was alert immediately, pushing herself up from
the bed with elbows shaking.

Mulder had been pressed into her side, and he turned now, wincing and
rubbing his ear.

She crawled closer, hand coming to rest along his stomach.

"What's wrong?" she asked, glancing to the alarm clock. Only four.

When he turned to look at her she flinched.

His jaw was puffy and blue, with yellow rings around the bruises. In his
eyes, she saw pain and humility.

Touching him carefully, she sighed.

"I'm sorry, Mulder."

"I think I must have aggrevated it while we. . .slept."

She shot him a knowing look. "Or something."

He laid back, hitting the pillow with a smack, sounding peculiarly like
her fist had as it connected with his jaw.

"I haven't felt like this since I was ten."

"Ten? What for?"

"I never let my Dad smack me around after that. I was bigger after ten."

She closed her eyes, feeling sick, feeling no better than his father.

"Let's get you some ice," she said, standing and moving silently through
their bedroom.

"If I stand, it's gonna hurt."

She glanced back to him. "And how do you know that?"

She'd forgotten already.

Snorting, he closed his eyes and shook a finger at her.

"I told you, you're not the only person who's punched me before."

She went silent and still, then crept back into the bed with him,
fingers running softly along his skin.

"I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm so sorry."

He shrugged. "I deserved-"

"No." Her words were vehement, quiet, like daggers through the air.

He looked at her, head cocked, jaw black and blue.

Their eyes met, solid and strong, a connection that hadn't been there
for awhile.

He reached out and stroked her cheek.

"Then *you* deserve better," he said finally.

Shaking her head, she moved again to the door, a look saying she'd be
back to discuss this, to argue again.
~~~~

Ice was cold.

He'd forgotten just how cold ice really could be.

Like scissors through his skin, it went straight to his bones, hardening
them into blocks of steel that battered his already sore muscles.

Mumbling another statement of his dissatisfaction, he watched her walk
through their bedroom, only half put out by the ice.

The rest of his attention was focused solely on her, on memorizing ever
move she made, the way she never looked in the mirror until after
everything was done.

She wasn't vain at all, wasn't coy and saucy or slow and dreamy.

She was Scully, moving about the bathroom and bedroom efficiently,
placing things in spots where she could easily access them again,
leaving her brush on the bed so she wouldn't have to run into the
bathroom for it, or all the way into the bedroom.

He wanted to smile, but that ached, so he grumbled and threw pieces of
Kleenex at her as she walked by, attempting to get her attention.

She ignored him until she was finished, dressed, hair dried, make-up
hinting around her eyes.

Then she sat on the bed and looked at him.

"You know, you keep grunting like that and you're only going to make it
worse, Mulder."

He nodded and reached out for her, catching her with a quick hand.

He let the ice dangle from his fingertips as he gave her a soft kiss.

"Are you sure you don't want to come in?" she said, pushing at his chest
so she could stand up again.

"With a huge knot on my jaw? It's only worth talking to you, never to
anyone else. Why even try?"

"People don't hate you Mulder. You're intense. They don't view that very
well because most people lack a true desire for their job. They envy
you."

"If they do, it's only because I got you. Besides, if I come in there,
everyone's gonna say you decked me."

She smiled. "I did."

He frowned, then winced. "But they'll think it was cause I got. .
.fresh."

"You did get fresh."

"And I got some too, but that's not the point-"

She sat down and picked up his hand. "Are you going to let what everyone
else thinks run your life?"

He gaped at her, then shook his head with a sigh.

"You've guilted me into going. Move outta the way. I gotta shower."

She smiled and followed him into the bathroom, catching his socks as he
pulled them off and tossed them behind him.

He turned and poked her, then grinned despite the glancing pain it
caused.

"Wanna shower with me?"

Her look was disdainful, as if that was an activity reserved for the
peasants. She was the only one who could get away with that look and
never make it seem like she was being snobbish.

"We've got twenty minutes. No."

He sighed and stripped down, pushing the nozzle to the hot side, and
then looked back at her.

"Don't lust after me," he warned, shaking his finger.

She grabbed it and kissed his palm, then shoved him in the shower.

"Get going, Mulder."

"Yes, ma'am," he whispered as she left.
~~~~

There were whispers; he expected that.

But her looks made it okay, and her eyes told him that only they
mattered, not what anyone else thought.

When he got called into Kersh's office and asked if he had committed any
dishonorable acts lately, Mulder balked.

"Excuse me?"

The AD had that look that said he was settling in for a long one, and
then flicked his wrist toward Mulder's swollen jaw.

"Oh, sir, I didn't know you cared."

"Agent Mulder-"

"I tripped. Fell into the coffee table. Sir."

The 'sir' came after a long pause, expressing quite well Mulder's
growing annoyance with the conversation.

"You tripped, Agent Mulder?" Kersh asked, emphasizing the 'agent' as if
to say that no agent of his would simply trip.

"Would you like specifics? I don't think you would. I was with Agent
Scully."

Kersh's eyebrows raised so high, Mulder was sure they'd go into
convuslions without oxygen at that altitude.

"Agent Scully?"

"In the dark."

He grimaced. Technically, everything he'd said was true, except the
tripping, but the way in which he said it made the whole thing sound
like fraternization between agents.

Of course, if Mulder never said it, then they couldn't catch Scully and
him on it, and nothing could be done.

And if he was forced to explain, Kersh would laugh at him for letting
his own partner sucker punch him.

"All right, Agent Mulder. You're dismissed."

Mulder stood and sauntered to the door, wishing he could just get Scully
in here, let *her* show him how it felt to get a fist in the jaw.

Scully met him outside the door, eyebrow raised.

"And?"

"And I made it seem really sexy."

She frowned, giving him that look that warned him not to go much
further.

But he had to.

"In the dark, just us. . .a coffee table."

She gave him a swift jab in the side, discreet enough so that no one
would notice.

He coughed and glared, then smiled sweetly.

"Kersh let me go without questioning."

She shook her head as she led him back to the little supply closet
turned almost office. Her nameplate was knocked over on the desk, files
scattered around it, the sunshine beating mercilessly through the window
behind her.

He looked around at the shelves lined up before them, about six in all,
and squeezed into a narrow space was her desk.

Or, at least, in name it was her desk.

She still had one with him, out in the main office, with the people
surrounding them, and the nice computers, but she'd staked claim here
during some background checks she'd had to do, and never moved out.

Of course, it was half his too, or maybe mostly, since he left junk on
her desk all the time, and hid secret X-Files in her drawers.

She'd told him once that she had two desks to make up for not having one
at all in the basement.

She sighed and rifled through some of the various notes on the blotter,
her eyebrows meeting in a concerned frown.

"Scully. . .this reminds me of the basement."

She didn't even glance up, intent on finding whatever it was.

"Oh really."

"Mm-hmm. Secluded, out of the way. Forgotten."

"One desk," she added, giving a little noise of frustration not directed
at him.

Reaching over, he lifted up some folders and Post-It notes, and grabbed
a sheet of computer paper. Presenting it to her proudly, she stared at
him.

"This it?" he asked.

"How'd you know where it was?"

"I'm spooky."

She looked doubtful. "Hardly. You're more like pitiful."

"I think that's pretty lame, coming from the woman who knocked me flat."

"Are we going to add lying *back* to your list of attributes?"

He closed his mouth, sat down in the chair across from her, wounded and
feeling ill at ease.

He didn't want to go back down that road again. Not more fights, or
tears, or pain and yelling and stupidity.

She looked up when she sensed the change.

Blinking, she watched his eyes churn for a moment.

"Oh, Mulder. I. . .I didn't mean it like that. Just teasing. You haven't
forgotten that, right?"

Her smile was tentative, ready to turn down at the sign of trouble.

"Yes. . .but that hurt."

She made a noise, somewhere in between a choked sob and a sigh of
frustration.

"Okay. Okay," she muttered to herself. "We can do this."

"I. . .I. . ." Mulder stopped, unsure of where to go.

"I'm glad you told me. I am. Really. I don't want to hurt you Mulder.
That's not how I meant it at all."

"I know you didn't, but it makes me feel sick. And then it makes me
doubt this. . .doubt the reality."

She reached down, fingering a rose petal left on her desk seemingly
since time began. Her fingernails accidentally punched through its dry
surface and she let it drop.

"I don't want you to doubt this. I'm not trying to get back at you or
secretly make you hurt as much as I did. . .Mulder, I just want the old
us back. Where we could stand here for hours teasing. . .swapping
theories . . .almost laughing."

He nodded. "Me too, Scully. Me too. But I think it's going to be a
while. I think we still need to heal."

She slumped in the chair, the mood of work spoiled by their downturn.

"This is new to me, Mulder." She spoke suddenly.

"How's that?"

"In my family. . .whenever anything happened, we had a fight, or
something really bad and awful occurred. . .we just went to our rooms,
stewed about it for awhile, then came out happy. The same. Forgiving. I
mean, there are things that Bill did to all of us that were just
spiteful, but we forgave him every time. There wasn't any sitting down
and talking and expressing emotions that were usually held at bay. Dad
expected us to get along and we tried. We did usually. I. . .know my
father even had an affair once, when I was about three. When they made
up, that's how we got Charlie."

Mulder smiled and watched her face as she repeated the story.

"I remember it mainly because my mom was crying and I'd never seen her
cry before. Bill, of course, explained everything. I hit him and told
him that Daddy would never do that to us. He had though. And my mom
forgave him and everything was fine. They didn't have these moments
where everything feels so hopeless, like we're never going to get over
it."

She stopped and bowed her head. "They never broke down and cried or
yelled or grew depressed."

Mulder took her hand. "I think, maybe, that was a little different,
Scully. Our bond is unique, all encompassing. It surpasses everything. .
.and that's why it hurts so very much."

She nodded softly and looked in his eyes, meeting them again,
remembering Thoreau.

"I just want it to stop hurting, for both of us."

"Time. We've got to give it time."

The room was close and stuffy, and he pulled away to shrug out of his
jacket, hanging it over the chair.

"Look at it like this, Scully. We never did fight in front of Grace. And
your parents, when you all were kids, probably didn't either. I'm sure
it was worse than what you saw."

She smiled. "I'll have to ask my mother."

Mulder sighed. "I wouldn't. It'd bring up some painful stuff."

She cocked her head, peered straight into him. "Maybe so. But she'd be
more than willing to talk to me about it."

He gaped at her, then shook his head. "I suppose that's one of the
differences between us. My family was always mesed up. We always tiptoed
around each other, and you know, I don't think we've ever even tried to
get over things. To forgive."

She gave him a sad smile. "It's different for us. You're content with
being in limbo over us because that's how you grew up. I'm frustrated
because I'm used to everything working out quickly."

He nodded, smiling and sitting down on her desk, glancing down at her.

"That explains a lot."

She grinned. "Yes, it does."

"So," he said, and by his face, she knew he had switched topics. "You
wanna come over to my place?"

"What about your wife?" she said, eyebrows raising.

He looked at her appraisingly, his mind scrambling for a way to get out
of her tease gracefully.

"I thought you *were* my wife."

She smiled wider and rose up from her chair to kiss him gently.

"Good answer, G-man. But we'd have to be careful. Your wife sure does
pack a solid right hook."
~~~~

Grace was explaining how the wind lifted airplanes at dinner that night,
her mouth moving nonstop, when the doorbell rang.

Scully rose to answer it, and Mulder continued listening to Grace's
science, impressed that she had soaked in all that knowledge just by
watching one television show.

"And Bill says that-"

Mulder held out a hand. "Who's Bill?"

"Bill Nye the *Science* Guy, Daddy," she said, as if he should already
know that.

He nodded. The television show's host. Okay.

"Keep going, Gracie."

A movement caught his eyes and he looked up, over Grace's head, to see
Scully's face, white as a sheet, her fists clenched.

Trailing in behind her came a slight figure, his leather jacket dusted
with snow.

Mulder rose from the table, heart hammering, thinking crazily that the
guy had a gun to his wife and he was here to kill them all.

But the smallish man's hands held a hat he was fumbling with, and when
Mulder got to see him up close, he looked familiar.

"Fox?"

Mulder took the man's proffered hand, shaking it slowly.

"Mulder," he answered, stressing the name.

"Ah, right. Mulder. I'm Jess, one of your cousins. . ."

Mulder's face dawned in recognition and he smiled, but quickly frowned
as Scully came beside him, hands clutching his arm.

"What's wrong?" he said, sensing the sorrow in the air.

"Your mom's real sick. . .I came from the hospital because she won't let
me call you. She made me promise not to call. . .but she didn't make me
promise not to get you personally."

"My mother?"

"She had another stroke, F-, uh, Mulder. It's not good. She can't walk
or talk or feed herself. She's been sick for awhile before this, and
that's when she made me promise not to call you. Ever."

Mulder sat down hard in his chair, finding Scully's hands come to his
neck, shoulders, with gentle support.

"How bad is it?" Scully asked softly. She already knew, but understood
that it was a question Mulder could not ask.

"They're not hopeful. They've done some tests and found that there's a
good possibility she could stroke out."

Scully leaned against Mulder's chair, moving her lips near his ear to
tell him what that meant.

"She could die, then."

Mulder raised a hand, pushed at the tears in his eyes, and sighed.

Grace was watching him with rounded mouth, fork brought halfway to her
lips and hanging there.

"I need to see her," he said finally. 

Maybe his family had never been the type to forgive.

But he wasn't going to let it end that way.
~~~~
~~~~

"she is asking for more than
most men are able to give,
but she means to have what she
has earned,
sweet sighs, safe houses,
hands she can trust."
--"to my friend, jerina" Lucille Clifton

~~~~

Grace was enchanting Jess in the living room with her "American Pie"
routine, sans music, as Mulder was on hold with the airlines.

Scully cleared the dinner dishes from the table, watching him growl
silently at the wait, not used to being on hold since he usually got
tickets through the FBI.

She leaned against the counter, ignoring the dishes stacked up in the
sink, and nudged him.

When his eyes met hers, she murmured, "Get a seat for Grace."

He frowned. "What?"

"We're all going, Mulder. You and I. . .we need to stick together for
awhile. And Grace doesn't need to be left behind."

He opened his mouth to protest, mainly because he didn't want his family
any where *near* his mother, but at her look, he stilled his objections.

The clerk came on the line then and Mulder got three tickets to fly into
Boston from National, with a connecting flight on to New Bedford. His
mother was had been flown to Nantucket, then New Bedford because of the
flight schedules of the ambulance helicopters there.

Jess was planning on flying back too, but he had his ticket already, so
Mulder hung up, slumping into the counter.

She watched him, knowing he wanted to argue her decision.

"Mulder, do *you* want to be the one to tell her we're leaving her
behind for an indeterminent period of time?"

He sighed. "I just . . . you *know* what my family's like, Scully. I
don't want her or you near that."

"But, Mulder, you're going to need some friendly faces there, and
someone to cry on."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "The last time this happened, I sort of
messed up your shirt, didn't I?"

She smiled. "Na. Your tears came out in the wash."

They both grew silent for a long moment, thinking.

Then he straightened up, mentally throwing off his misery and taking her
hand.

"Let's get Grace to bed, and settle things down, then go to bed
ourselves. We can pack light in the morning."

"What time does the plane leave?"

"Twelve. No sweat."

She nodded and watched him struggle to keep a neutral face as he headed
for the living room to rescue his cousin.

She realized she was relieved his mother couldn't speak, that way,
Mulder couldn't pry her for information and end up hurting even more.

The last time she'd seen Mrs. Mulder, the woman had slapped her son.

Scully sighed and followed her husband out.
~~~~

Grace was jumping, literally, because she was so excited about riding in
an airplane.

Her Barbie dolls were crammed into a small bag which was once a camera
case for some very expensive, professional equipment, that Mulder no
longer used.

He couldn't remember why.

Grace loved the bag, saying it made her grown up looking, and she pulled
out the Walkman her parents had given her as an early Christmas present. 

Mainly it was to keep her from annoying passengers with her incessant
questions and lively chatter.

She was in the aisle now, watching Scully shelve their carryons into the
overhead compartment, and grinning as she sang along, out loud of
course, to a Veggie Tales tape Mrs. Scully had given her.

All in all, Mulder could tell that his daughter's antics were going to
keep him from thinking much about his mother.

Which could be a good *or* bad thing.

Scully shooed Grace back into her seat and then squeezed by Mulder's
long legs to gain the window seat. Grace sat between them, her legs
swinging in the chair, her head moving back and forth like Ray Charles.

"God is bigger than the boogey man. . ." she belted loudly, with
surprising accuracy.

Mulder looked intently to Scully.

"What is she listening to?"

Scully's face closed up, and she placed a hand on Grace's knee to remind
her not to be so loud.

Grace lowered her volume, singing in loud stage whispers that really
didn't accomplish much.

"Scully. . ."

"It's Veggie Tales Sing-a-Long, Mulder."

"And what is Veggie Tales?"

She sighed. "Mom's been taking us to church on Sundays, Mulder. . .and
well, she's let her watch some videos while she was over. . ."

"Scully. It's obviously a religious thing. I'm okay with that. Just tell
me."

"Veggie Tales make videos with all kinds of talking cartoon vegetables
playing out Bible stories. Like David and Goliath, Daniel in the Lion's
Den. Well, Grace loves them. They sing like those Disney cartoons, and
in the middle they interrupt for a kind of intermission. It's . . .never
mind. Anyway, Mom got her a tape of some of those songs. . ."

"All right. That's okay. It's just strage to hear *our* child sing, "God
is bigger than the boogey man."

Scully raised a brow. "I wouldn't think so. She believes in God *and*
the monsters under her bed. Like me *and* you combined."

He gave her a look and stretched out further in the seat.

"See, problem one. Averted and dealt with. On to problem two," he said,
glancing over at her.

She physically relaxed. "I was sort of hesitant about telling you. . ."

"Look, Scully. If she wants to believe in God, what right do I have to
stop that? I mean. . .this is *me* here. Spooky. The guy who believes in
aliens."

She smiled and reached over Grace to squeeze his hand.

Just then, Grace let out a squeal as the plane lurched forward, then
crawled over her mother to watch from the window.

She was singing "I Love My Lips" and Mulder couldn't help looking to
Scully and laughing.
~~~~

Scully opened her eyes when a hand brushed along her arm.

She saw a window, small and oval, the protective plastic scratched and
displaying green earth and mountains.

Her head turned to the left and she saw Mulder smiling softly at her.

"We're about to land, Scully."

She nodded and glanced down to where Grace had fallen asleep in her lap,
one finger still on the glass, as if she had collapsed while watching
the sky.

"How long have I been asleep?" Scully said, whispering.

"Mm. Thirty minutes. Not long."

He moved over to Grace's seat and buckled in again, then took Scully's
hand and held it.

So. . . she was afraid of crashing. . .that was normal.

She shivered a bit and gave him a grateful look, then glanced back to
Grace.

"Should we put her in the seat?"

"She'll be okay."

Grace's long lashes fell to her thin cheeks and her hair curled slightly
from sleep, the ends whispy and tickling Scully's arms. She looked dead
to the world, her mouth open and body so relaxed, she could have been in
her own bed at home.

"She's so beautiful. . ." Mulder whispered.

Scully was smiling, her mouth pulled into a soft gentle caress of light
and snow that made him feel like the best there ever was.

"Yes, she is," Scully replied, bending down to kiss her head.

Grace smelled like baby shampoo and soft skin and sleep. One of her arms
was twined between Scully's and her back was to Mulder, feet dangling
from her mother's lap.

"She's almost too big to hold like this. . ."

Mulder sighed and ran a finger along her hairline. "But she's so small.
Like a bird. Or a fairy."

Her bones looked fragile and her face was thin, hair thick and wild,
with bright fathomless eyes that were now closed.

"But when she's awake, Mulder. . .then she's not so much a fairy but a
terror."

He grinned. "What can I say? She gets it from me."
~~~~

Mulder was amused to find that a second plane ride was even more
exciting that the first, and caused Grace to stay bouncy and hyper
throughout the flight.

She fell asleep after a McDonalds lunch in the back seat of their rented
Ford, her body slumped over the seat like a puppet on strings.

Mulder drove quickly through New Bedford, a town he knew inside and out,
taking short cuts through the streets and making it to their motel in
record time.

He found he still couldn't face his mother, even with the gentle
memories he had now to combat whatever might be in his mother's face.

Even with the sight of Scully and Grace, mother with child, asleep on
the plane and so beautiful. . .even with that image he wasn't prepared
to face his mother.

Scully wouldn't let him abandon it though, and she unpacked the few
things they would need later, managed to get Grace to change out of her
dirty overalls and into Blue's Clues pajamas so that she could sleep
anywhere, whether that had to be in the hospital that night, or on the
way back to the motel.

She bundled Grace up in her coat, put her Blue's Clues slippers on her
feet, and pulled up her hood, zipping everything all the way through
Grace's complaints.

Mulder watched, feeling more and more dread with every action that led
them closer to the hsopital.

In the end, he drove them there the long way.

Scully could tell, but she said nothing.
~~~~
~~~~

"In the name of honesty,
in the name of what is fair
You always answer my questions
but they don't always answer my prayers."
--"We Have No Secrets" Carly Simon

~~~~

As they walked through the halls, the smell of death was cloying, a
combination of Vaseline lotion, the elderly, and sterilization. It felt
heavy,
pressing down on him as he held Grace in his arms, a kind of physical
presence that wrapped all around him.

Scully was oblivious to it, having spent enough time in hospitals as an
intern to have the smell internalized, pushed away, relegated to some
corner of her mind that refused to believe that death could overtake
someone so rapidly.

Grace was hugging his neck hard, a sign that she too felt the pull of
the place, the way it dug right into the soul and resided there,
thriving while you wasted away.

The Information desk was more like a retirement job for the nurses who
were too old to work anymore, bitter and full of useless facts that
could not direct them to the right floor.

Scully grew frustrated and pushed away from the desk, starting towards
the elevators and the sleek, black directory there.

Mulder followed with Grace, both their eyes wide as they took in the
huge
hospital.

The lobby waiting room was expansive, separated by couches and chairs
that displayed sleeping figures and lounging relatives. Phones dotted
the walls and end tables held ancient magazines speaking of the imminent
collapse of the U.S.S.R.

Mulder plowed right into Scully, where she had stopped before the
elevators, one hand calmly held out to stop him, somehow knowing he
wouldn't be paying attention.

"Fifth floor, Mulder."

He nodded and they stepped into the elevator, a few interns nodding to
them while the lone nurse merely glanced anxiously through a few charts.

It was a quick ride and they got off, leaving the others in the car
while Grace waved good-bye. Scully strode right to the nurses station,
asking for directions, leaving Mulder to stand obtrusively in the
hallway, watching as two nurses discussed a case in the corner and a
male doctor made rounds with an aging smile.

The place was quiet, even through the sounds of talking and joking,
phones ringing and intercoms paging, the hospital had a silence to it
that stilled his heart.

Grace peered into one of the rooms, wiggling down from his arms to see
the old man propped up in bed, curled on his side in a sort of last
appeal to God to take him.

Mulder sntached her before she could wander inside, and then hoisted her
up in his arms again, quieting her protests with a patented father look.

She laid her head on his shoulder and merely gazed in the open rooms,
her eyes taking in the man's shrivelled arms, the skimpy gown with its
indecent exposure, the way his eyes stared right into hers and found
nothing.

Grace shivered and looked around for her mother.

Scully was smiling, thanking the black woman at the desk, saying
something that invited the laughter of the women and men around her.

Mulder felt oddly at ease, drifting down into the easiness of her smile
as she headed towards them.

She took Grace's foot, squeezing it tightly, and led them from the desk
to another side hall, with closed doors along every side.

The carpet muffled their footsteps and Scully was glad his mother was on
the fifth floor, instead of ICU. It gave a certain amount of hope.

When they reached the door, the broad handle clicked open easily and
they slipped inside, Mulder in the lead, his hand rubbing Grace's back
as she watched.

A few people were there: his Aunt Beth, eleven years younger than his
mother, and two of her children, grown now with families of their own.

The doctor was nodding to Beth, and his mother was lying in the hospital
bed, looking thin and weak, her hair still shiny silver, but her eyes
dimmed to a thick, dull metal. Her hands were under the thin blanket,
and she looked diminutive in the large bed, with the tubes running in.

The numbers held a steady 75, and he wished he knew what that meant,
whether that was bad or good or doing better.

He reached for Scully, but found she was already back outside, talking
candidly with the doctor, a balding man of about fifty years, his lab
coat worn and clean.

He walked in slowly and found his mother staring at him, her eyes that
blank look of the depressed, so achingly empty that he felt the pain
start in him, slide through his arms and legs and throb.

"Mother?"

She held up her hand, and he quickly grabbed it, feeling a measure of
relief at her tight tight squeeze.

"Fox," she said and he was surprised.

He looked over to his aunt, who had drawn back out of respect, then let
Grace down to the floor.

"Mother, how are you feeling?"

She nodded her head, but it kind of rolled around on her neck in an out
of control manner that made him want to reach out and stop it.

"Mom, I brought my family. . ." he said gently, knowing that she might
be confused since she hadn't seen Grace ever before.

"Fox. . .Dana?"

"Yeah, Scully's outside talking with your doctor. . ."

"Good. He's nice, Fox. But she'll know. . . can tell me what's really
going on."

Mulder smiled. "I brought Grace to see you, Mom. My daughter, Grace."

Her eyes grew confused and she shook her head.

"Grace, Mom. I told you about her."

"I. . .I don't remember. . .you're married, Fox?"

He stilled the panic rising in him and gestured to the door. "Married to
Dana. You remember. You were furious we didn't have a normal wedding."

"Dana. . .she's good. She'll let us know the truth. That doctor of mine
is nice, but I don't think he's telling me everything."

Mulder closed his eyes, smothering the fear in him.

Grace yanked on his jacket and he opened his eyes, picking her up.

"Mom, this is Grace."

He begged with his eyes for her to not ask questions.

<Don't you dare hurt her> he was saying.

"Hello, darling." His mother reached up and snagged Grace's foot,
shaking it like a hand.

Grace smiled and wiggled down into the bed next to her unknown
grandmother.

Sitting down, she touched her arm, whispering in a soft voice.

"You're Daddy's mom?"

Mrs. Mulder's eyes grew confused, but she nodded, glancing to Mulder
with a sort of desperation that made him snatch Grace back into his
arms.

"Grace, this is your Grandmother."

"Oh. Hi Grandmother."

But Mrs. Mulder's eyes had closed and she had drifted off again, letting
her exhaustion claim her from the ever changing world around.

Mulder felt Scully's hand on him, and he turned, looking into her eyes.

With one look, she told him all he needed to know.

He felt the tears slip away, the weight of Grace hold him down.

She wasn't going to make it.
~~~~

Rift 4: Refine

Thanks to Melissa.

~~~~
Refine
~~~~

"See, I have refined you, but not like silver;
I have tested you in the furnace of adversity."
--Isaiah 48:10

~~~~

Grace was curled up asleep on Mulder's chest, her mouth opened and hair
dishevelled, but he had not wanted to leave his mother.

Aunt Beth had gone on back to the motel, and her two sons had retreated
to the comfort of their wives. Only he and Scully sat vigil in his
mother's room, watching the night from a thick-paned window and through
the smoke coming from the generator below them.

Scully stood and walked to his mother, pulled the blanket tighter around
her, watched the numbers on the moniter.

Mulder flicked a wrist to the steady 75, giving her a slight grin.

"What does that mean? Is it good?"

Scully frowned, then noticed the red number glowing in the semi-dark of
the room. She laughed.

"That's not anything, Mulder. I mean, it just shows how much they're
giving her in the I.V. line."

"So, what is it? 75 what?"

"75 cc's of probably sugar water."

His eyebrows raised and he stared at the I.V. dangling from the hook.

"Sugar water?"

She came back to sit down beside him, taking his still pointing finger
and smiling. "Sugar water gives her some extra nourishment, and helps
keep her blood pressure up. It's a good thing. Not really technical,
but. . ."

He nodded and watched the 75, glowing and red before them, its constant
presence something that oddly reassured him.

"So how much is that?"

"Hm. Well, you know those little medicine cups that come on top of
children's cough syrup?"

"Like we had for Grace?"

"Yeah. Well, one of those is 30 cc's. And this is only 75 an hour. Not
too bad, pretty average really."

"So, it doesn't mean anything -- good or bad, right?"

She leaned back, a hand on Grace's back to feel her breathing.

"Basically."

He remained silent, taking in the rest of the room, its two shelves and
television mounted high on the wall, along with a scraggly plant left
behind, cotton swabs and antiseptic pads and washcloths littering the
sink. A bathroom door led to the toilet and small shower, and a long bar
kept anyone from falling.

"So. . .tell me what the doctor said."

She glanced to him, biting her lip as she always did when she didn't
like the truth.

He hadn't asked before, in front of his aunt and her children, partly
because he was afraid to know.

"Mulder-"

"Please, Scully. Please tell me."

She had tears in her eyes for him, and she looked back to his mother, so
tiny and sickly looking.

"She had a stroke, like Jess said. Dr. Aiken told me everyone was
praying for her, your family, his church. It seems your mother's been
going off and on to a local Baptist congregation."

Mulder's eyebrows shot up. "A Baptist church?"

"Did you go to church. . .?"

"Not really. My father was somewhat Jewish and Mom talked a little bit
about God. Enough so that I prayed for Samantha to be safe every night,
after praying for her to come back didn't work."

Scully sighed, evading a sensitive subject.

"Well. Prayer seemed to work this time. She had a cerebral stroke,
Mulder. That's not good at all. She couldn't walk or talk, and when a
cup was put in her hand, she didn't have the motor skills to grasp it.
But the very next day, she was walking around the room, nodding and
talking to everyone."

Her eyes turned to him as she paused, watching the passive face he put
up. It was somewhere between the panic look and the nonchalant look.

They were all the same with him.

Scully couldn't see his eyes and that bothered her.

"Mulder, I'm not sure if you understand it, but that's a very big deal.
With this kind of stroke, she shouldn't have been up for about two weeks
of a hospital stay and about three weeks of therapy. Walking and talking
the next day. . ."

"So, what happened to her?" he cut in, refusing to find the miracle.

She sat up in the chair, deciding to leave out the spiritual elements
that Dr. Aiken had firmly believed in.

"She had congestive heart failure yesterday."

Mulder buried his head into Grace's shoulder, ignoring Scully's hand on
his arm, biting his tongue to keep the tears from his eyes.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, concentrating on every
breath that came in and out of his lungs.

"And. . .and it doesn't look good?"

"Oh. . .Mulder. . ."

"Tell me, Scully. Just the truth. I know we haven't been too good at
that lately, but-"

"I'd never lie to you, Mulder."

He looked up and the fear and sorrow in her eyes made him feel the grief
he was trying to force away.

"It doesn't look good, Mulder. They give her a few weeks, maybe. She's
just. . .old. . .and worn out."

Mulder lifted his head, sniffing to keep the tears away.

"I'm not going to cry for her," he said softly.

Scully got up from her seat, moving around to kneel in front of his
chair, her face anguished.

"Why not?" she whispered.

"This is better for her, Scully. To leave all this behind. . ."

"But, Mulder. She's your mother."

"Maybe so. She used to be, I remember. I think she wanted to be. But
losing Samantha was too much, Scully. It was just too much."

He closed his eyes, felt her lips glance along his forehead, then her
hands take Grace from his lap; he suddenly felt barren, cold.

She placed Grace in the chair she'd just vacated, then moved back into
Mulder, wrapping her arms around him, warming him.

He leaned down and pulled her up into him, closing his eyes tightly,
pushing away the sense of lost time that seemed ready to choke him.

She didn't tell him to cry, because she knew that he didn't want to, and
that he would feel worse if he did.

She held him, praying the end would be swift and merciful.
~~~~

Sometime near one in the morning, he drove them back to the motel, all
of them dragging inside to simply crawl into bed, clothes and all.

Grace was already in her blue spotted pajamas, her stuffed Blue dog
tucked under her arm, and her eyes drooping dangerously.

They pulled the covers over her in the single-sized bed, then got into
the king sized one themselves.

Scully stayed awake until she heard Grace's even, deep, and noisy
breathing, then she too fell into dreams.

Mulder moved closer and pulled her into his arms, sighing in her scent
and trying to relax.

As he wished for sleep, all he saw were the confused grey eyes of his
mother, pleading for help and begging to be let go.
~~~~

Grace was somewhere in the hospital with her Aunt Beth, no doubt
charming all the people she met, while Mulder tried to talk to his
mother.

Scully sat in the chair, holding her tongue and trying very  hard not to
hate the woman that had helped mess up her husband so much.

It was tough, but the look of honest, childlike love in Mulder's eyes
kept her from it, and she settled her chin in her hand for a long wait.

Finally Mulder looked up to her for help and she stood, coming to Mrs.
Mulder's bedside with a smile.

"How're you doing Mrs. Mulder?"

The woman seemed to be all right, slightly listless, but not as confused
as before. Scully figured that Mulder had run out of things to say.

"Are you feeling better?"

The woman nodded. "Much."

"Good. Are you eating anything?"

She sort of looked away, glancing to a feeding table with a shrug.
"Nothing good here. Not very hungry."

"Yeah, but you have to eat so you can feel better, Mrs. Mulder. Has
anything looked good to you?"

"Yeah, Mom, they said you can have anything. I'd ask for chocolate."

Scully frowned at him and shook her head, saying softly. "She can't have
chocolate," then in a louder voice, "But has anything appealed to you?"

"Not. Not too much. Just tired all the time."

Scully nodded, squeezing her hand. "Yeah, that's okay. We'll get a
dietician in here, see if anything looks good to you, all right?"

"Hmm," she murmured, and her eyes seemed to fix on Scully, looking far
through her as if she wasn't even there.

"Did you have many visitors? I heard from Dr. Aiken that some members of
his church came."

"Oh, oh yes. Yes. Fox, the church. You know the church."

Mulder smiled and pretended to understand, pushing some of his mother's
hair out of her face.

"They came and sat and prayed for me. It was. . .was such a nice thing."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sure they want you to feel better."

"I was tired. Told them I was tired. I'm tired, Fox."

"I know, Mom. You'll be better soon."

"I think I'll just sleep forever, Fox. I'm so tired."

Mulder turned his head away quickly, then forced himself to look at her
eyes. Scully noticed that she focused on him, that Mulder seemed to draw
her attention like nothing else could.

"You can sleep, Mom."

"I will, Fox. I think I will. How's school?"

Mulder frowned and glanced to Scully.

She shrugged.

"School, Mom?"

"Oxford. . .terribly cold there. You have a coat."

"I have a coat, Mom. But -"

"And who is this with you? Better manners Fox. Introduce us."

"Mom, this is Dana Scully. You-"

His mother's face grew peeved and she shook his hand angrily. "I know
who Dana is, Fox. Why are you repeating yourself?"

"Mom?"

"Always you repeat yourself, saying things over. Don't you think I hear
you the first time? I come right in and get you when you have a
nightmare, Fox. You know I do. So stop saying it over and over."

Scully pulled on Mulder's hand, indicating that they should leave, her
face troubled by the panic on his.

But he wouldn't let go of it.

"Mom. . .Mom, I know you came and got me when I had bad dreams."

"Then why do you look at me like that?"

"Like what, Mom?"

"Like I haven't been good to you. Why does your wife look at me like
that?"

Mulder turned in surprise to Scully, then back to his mother. She was
jumping around, one moment thinking he was a little kid and the next
understanding that he had a wife.

"She's sad for you, Mom. Nothing else."

"Who?"

"Mom. Why don't you get some sleep?"

"I think I'll get some sleep. I'm tired. Fox, I'm tired."

He bit back a cry of grief and nodded, the tears glistening in his eyes.

"I know you are, Mom. You just rest."

She closed her eyes and Mulder let go of her head, backing away with
Scully beside him, furiously pushing down the need in him to cry.

Outside, he slumped against the wall, closing his eyes as a single tear
escaped his control. Scully leaned in close to him and wiped it away.

"I know you don't want to cry over her, Mulder. But perhaps you need to
grieve over everything else that will die when she does."

At her words, he collapsed into her solid warmth, pressing his face to
her shoulder and using the wall to help support his lanky body.

She held him tightly, wanting to hate the woman that would make him hurt
so very bad.
~~~~

She felt Grace run into her legs with a fierce hug that woke her from a
dream-filled sleep.

Reaching down, Scully picked her daughter up, opening her eyes and
smiling at the happy face before her.

"Hey, baby. What have you been doing?"

"Aunt Beth showed me all the babies!"

"Oh. You went to the nursery?"

"Unh-huh. And there was one baby with a blue blanket that had Daddy's
name on the little card."

Scully smiled. "Fox?"

"Yup. Aunt Beth started laughing because Daddy doesn't like his name,
but other people like it. Do you like Daddy's name?"

"Yes. I think it's a good name."

"Then why don't you call him Fox?"

"Because Daddy doesn't really like it."

"But Gramma calls him Fox, and Aunt Beth and Jess."

"Well. . .I've called him Mulder from the very beginning, and it's more
of my name for him that anyone else's."

"Oh. Just like I'm the only one who calls him Daddy?"

Scully smiled and rubbed noses with her, making her smile.

"Yes, like that."

Grace giggled and looked over to where Mulder was dozing, his head ready
to fall off the arm of the chair.

"Daddy looks silly."

Scully glanced to him and laughed. "Yes, he does."

Mulder came awake then, and looked up to see both of them grinning at
him, interesting looks on their faces.

"What are you two doing?"

Grace giggled. "Watching you sleep funny."

He stood and picked her up, holding her high. "You think I sleep funny?"

"Yup," she said, and gave him Scully's taunting look.

Mulder sighed theatrically and pulled her into his embrace.

"I suppose I can't say anything. Everyone's against me."

At Grace's muffled laugh, he tickled her belly, then kissed her.

"Did you have fun with Aunt Beth?"

"We saw babies!"

Scully sat and listened while she repeated the whole story over again,
thinking about death and birth and how everything could be a lesson.

Like no one had much time on this earth, and it was pointless to waste
it hurting over mistakes.

Mulder knew that, and he was trying to forgive his mother, just as
Scully strove each day to truly get over her own hurt in spite of
careless words and unbidden images.

Each day their love was refined.

Each day it was tested in the fire of adversity.
~~~~
~~~~

"Look and see
if there is any sorrow like my sorrow. . ."
--Lamentations 1:12

~~~~

His feet were cold, curled up in the sheets and blankets, seeking some
kind of warmth.

He found her legs with his toes and she jerked with the chill, but moved
closer anyway, pushing her own cold nose into his chest.

He smiled and held her for a moment, until her fingers warmed and his
toes no longer felt numb, then she turned and they tumbled back into
sleep.
~~~~

Scully was sitting on the edge of Grace's bed, tugging on her sleeve to
pull her hand through, and offering one quick jerk to get the shirt over
her head.

Grace was humming and dancing a Barbie along the bed, oblivious to her
mother's attempts to dress her, her sole focus being the imaginary world
inside her own head.

Grace could dress herself, of course, but Scully knew they'd be there
for hours while the girl messed around and played with her toys.

Mulder was shaving, his bare stomach pressed into the sink, his jeans
digging into his waist as he leaned forward to inspect the spots he'd
missed.

"Sit still, Grace," he heard Scully say and eyed them in the mirror.

"Gracie!" He spoke sharply to cut through her fantasy.

She looked up, confused and half dressed, the Barbie dangling from her
figners.

"Pay attention to Momma, Gracie."

Grace nodded and looked to her mother, holding her hands out.

Scully smiled with a sigh and hugged her, then pushed her back onto the
bed, giving her the blue jeans to put on herself.

"I don't want to wear these," she said softly, face frowning. "I want to
wear my green ones."

Scully glanced to the sweater Grace had on, then nodded. "All right.
Quickly, then, Grace."

Grace jumped from the bed and dug around in the suitcase, coming up with
her baggy green pants, with the side pockets that she liked to stick
things in. They had a small blue stain on the right one, from when
Scully had forogtten to check her pockets  before washing them.

Interestingly enough, Mulder usually did the wash, and he had laughed at
them as Grace grew hysterical, and Scully felt awful for ruining them.
But Mulder managed to get most of the stain out, and Grace liked them
even better.

Mulder spoke up from the sink, and Scully turned out of her daze to
catch only the last part.

". . .have to go."

"What?" she said, standing and gathering her make-up into her hands.

"I'm going to finish getting dressed, then we'll have to go."

"Oh. I'll be ready in a second."

He glanced to her, still in a T-shirt, hair wet from her shower, face
clean and shining.

"Right."

She glared at him, then pushed him into the sink. "I will be. You just
wait, mister."

He laughed and began to touch up with his razor.

She glanced over at Grace, then sighed.

"Gracie, put your pants on NOW, sweet."

"I am!"

Scully stalked to her, then grabbed the green pants, pulling her up onto
the messy bed, leaving her Barbie on the floor.

"Let's have a race with Daddy, okay? See if we can be ready before him.
But you have to put your pants on, and your hair brushed and socks and
shoes on."

Grace looked at her father with a gleam in her eyes.

"Daddy has to too!"

"Right, Daddy has to be just as done as you, baby. You ready?"

Grace wriggled excitedly in her arms and nodded enthusiastically.

"All right. Go!"

Grace began struggling out of her pajama bottoms and talking to herself
as she raced around, Mulder looking on with calm and amusement.

"I'm going to beat you, Grace," he said, laughing.

Grace huffed something but ignored him, still trying to work her button
and zipper.

Mulder looked at Scully. "Wish that trick would work for you. Get going,
G-Woman."

She gave him a smirk and pulled her jeans and sweater from the suitcase.

"I'll be ready before either of you."
~~~~

Mulder grumbled and the women gloated as he drove them to the hospital.

"It wasn't fair."

Scully laughed, a sound so beautiful and happy that Mulder resolved to
lose to her more often.

"How'd you get dressed so quickly?"

"All that time you spent trying to shave right, Mulder."

"So?"

"Well, all I had to do was pull on some clothes. I was basically done
anyway. And give Grace enough incentive, and she can do anything."

Grace knocked his head with a Barbie doll and smiled hugely from the
backseat.

"I can do anything!" she yelled, then lowered her voice at a look from
her mother. "Big Bird told me that."

"Oh really, Grace? Birds talk to you?" Mulder looked at her in the rear
view mirror.

Scully rolled her eyes and Grace laughed. "No, Daddy. From Sesame
Street."

Mulder looked genuinely confused and Scully shook her head.

"Mulder, Public television show. She watches it every morning at Mom's."

Mulder nodded and resolved to watch Sesame Street sometime. He ought to
know just what was being taught to his little girl.

"Little guys can do big things too," Grace piped up, hugging his head
rest.

"Gracie, put your seat belt back on," Scully said, looking back at her.

The girl scooted backwards and then slipped back into her seatbelt. She
had not unfastened it, but merely wiggled out of it, thinking her
parents wouldn't know.

"Little guys can do big things too," she whispered, glancing out the
window as the street passed by.

"What was that, Gracie?"

Mulder glanced to Scully as she asked, then took the left hand turn as
the light changed.

She nodded to him.

The lights were positioned differently in New Bedford, and the first
time he had driven, thankfully, he had merely stopped at a green light
and not run a red one. Because he was red-green colorblind, he hadn't
known it was really green.

He thought he had the order of the lights down now, but he always looked
to Scully just to make sure.

As his thoughts came back to the car, he heard Grace singing again,
something about doing big things.

"What is that?" he asked, finding the entrance to the parking level for
the hospital.

"It's a song from Veggie Tales, Daddy! From Dave and the Giant Pickle."

He nodded, although he had no clue, and vaguely remembered her tape on
the plane.

"Do you think your mommy would like for me to sing it to her, Daddy?"

Mulder parked the car and glanced back at her, his face softening as he
took in her earnest expression.

"I'm sure she'd love it, Gracie."

Grace began humming it under her breath and pushed open the door,
twisting her body to try and slip out of the seatbelt again. That had
been fun, and if she got good at it, then she could play in the
floorboard and not have Mommy or Daddy know she was out of the safety
belt.

"Grace, unhook it. Don't let it choke you like that."

Grace sighed at her mother's words and unfastened the belt, then hopped
out of the car, slamming the door as hard as she could because she liked
the hollow noise it made.

Her mother took her hand and she skipped along to the hospital lobby,
shivering in the wind and trying to remember where she last had her
mittens.

Her mother was sure to ask soon.

Mulder opened the door for them and they shuffled inside, sniffing and
shivering to warm up after the brief walk from the car to the building.

Scully led them to the elevators again, Grace trailing behind them, her
hand firmly in Mulder's now, watching the people in the lobby.

Once in the elevator, Grace managed to slide up next to her mother and
push all the floor buttons, laughing in delight until Mulder scolded her
and pulled her back with him.

But it was fun to get to see every floor on their way up, how everyone's
head turned to look at them, and the nurses would either run to get on,
or turn away and look for another car.

She was glad she had pushed all the buttons, even if her father was
angry at her for doing it.

Looking up to her mother, she thought maybe her mother liked looking in
at all the floors too.
~~~~

Midway through her shower, Scully had realized one important thing.

She didn't want to be doing this.

So when Grace pushed all the buttons, she couldn't be properly mad about
it, and the look of curiosity on her daughter's face made up for
Mulder's anxiousness.

Because halfway throug her shower, she had remembered a dream. It had
been strange -- jumping from place to place with none of the characters
ever the same.

First, Bob the Tomato, from Veggie Tales, had sung a song about
forgiveness that only made her cry and when he had finished Grace came
into the room and told her to stop watching videos and start folding
socks.

Right then, she had been in front of her sock drawer, folding thousands
of white socks, all of them mismatched, but she couldn't seem to get the
right pairs together, no matter how hard she tried.

While the sock pile just grew and grew, Mrs. Mulder had strode in,
looking like hell fire and damnation incarnate, and Scully had hid
behind the mountain of socks, shivering.

At that moment, she remembered waking up to Mulder's cold toes on her
leg, and then moving around a bit, and then she had found the dream
again.

Mrs. Mulder was screaming righteous hell at her, saying that she didn't
deserve a man like Mulder, asking over and over "How could you?" and
saying she hated Scully for hurting him.

She had closed her eyes, feeling the tears again, and then she heard her
name.

Opening her eyes, Mulder had stood before her, holding his arms out,
such a wonderful look of love and acceptance on his face that she had
jumped up and run to him, so grateful.

But he had pushed her aside, gone on *past* her, arms outstretched, and
she had turned to look, panic starting in her stomach and making her
hands shake.

Her own mother was there, embracing Mulder and calling him "Fox" like no
one else was allowed to, telling him everything would be all right.

And then she had woken up to Mulder's nudges, telling her to hurry up
and get dressed.

All in all, it had been a very upsetting dream, and she had clutched at
it as she woke, but it had run from her, skirting the edges of memory
until the water of the shower reminded her of her own tears.

She wasn't looking forward to seeing Mrs. Mulder again, not with the
impression of the raging woman still burned deep into her.

The vision of a mother asking her how she could have hurt her baby so
much.

Even though she knew, rationally, that Mrs. Mulder had hurt her husband
far worse than she ever had, and deeper too.

But it still ate at her, made her hold on to Grace tighter as they
rounded the corner, even as her daughter wriggled around to get away.

The door opened and the light from the hall shone in on Mrs. Mulder's
huddled form, with Aunt Beth like the guardian angel sworn to protect
the Garden of Eden with a sword of fire.

Scully held back while Mulder went on through, his face intent upon his
mother, Grace at his side, humming her song so she would not forget at
the last moment.

Aunt Beth turned to her and motioned for them to leave together, let
Mulder have his time with his mother and his little girl.

Scully followed her out in relief.
~~~~
~~~~

"Surely this is the bitterness of death. . .
As your sword has made women childless,
so your mother shall be childless among women."
--1 Samuel 15:32 and 33

~~~~

Scully sat in a more private waiting room than the lobby on the first
floor, Aunt Beth watching her from the corners of her eyes.

"So, tell me what's really going on here," Beth finally said, looking
straight at Scully with flint in her expression.

Scully shifted in her chair and leaned forward, using the face she'd
come to rely on for the telling of an ugly truth.

"They don't think she's going to make it."

Beth's eyes immediately clouded over, but she sat back with a high chin,
mouth pursed and twisting as she tried to clamp down on her tears.

"I thought so," she whispered softly.

Scully didn't know what else to say, and she was too weary to try and
make up some kind of empty platitude to coax her into hopefulness.

"I know you think she's an awful woman," Beth said softly, her voice
coming as a surprise.

Scully sat there, mouth open, shocked.

"I can see it when you look at her, when you watch Fox coddle her. I
know you think she's awful."

Her breath came short and she turned her head, but felt no shame in her
thoughts.

"I do. I think she is awful. But Mulder loves her."

Beth closed her eyes against the painful thoughts swimming in her head.

"You must think us awful too. For seeing what was happening and not
doing anything about it."

Scully frowned. "It really doesn't make a difference now. I can't change
it. I would want to change it if I could. . .but then maybe I wouldn't
be here with Mulder, with what I have. I don't know."

Beth appreciated her honesty and nodded thoughtfully.

"But that doesn't change the fact that we saw her slipping away, saw Fox
getting hurt by it. . ."

"No," Scully answered softly, closing her eyes to tears.

She wasn't going to cry for this woman. Not at all.

"I would like to explain though. For her sake, I'd like to try and
explain. I don't think Fox will ever understand why his mother did what
she did, but maybe you would, being a mother."

Scully's mind supplied her with an image of Grace, in her green pants
and sweater, humming a song to please her father.

"Her baby was gone, Dana. . ."

Scully looked up, saw Beth watching her from behind watery eyes,
latticed windows that showed a myriad of pains and triumphs.

She couldn't accept such a patented response. "Yes. I know that. But she
had him left. She still had him. . ."

"It wasn't enough, Dana. If you ever lost a child, you'd know-"

Scully's eyes snapped red fire, and she felt her breath hiss from her in
undulating waves of radiation-pain.

"I've lost children. . .too many. It took a long long time to have
Grace, a long time and a lot of death. Maybe you didn't know that. But I
have *not* abandoned Grace to my sorrow. *She* did."

Beth's eyes slid shut and shuddered a sigh that somewhere between her
grief and her need to explain, her need to console herself over actions
she did not take.

Scully felt righteous anger swell in her, but she remembered her dream
and bit it down harshly, ignoring the pain swelling through her.

"Maybe you haven't abandoned your little girl. I see that. But the way
you treat her *is* different. Because she survived and others didn't.
You may not completely realize it, but you do."

Beth's entire face was a mask of apology, already asking forgiveness for
her words, knowing she had no right intruding like this, but the need to
make Dana understand overcame everything.

Scully said nothing, her face stone, but inside, she was remembering
Grace choosing to stay with her father, and her own words:

<She's not mine. Not really.>

Scully shuddered. 

The thoughts were in her, they were. She may not believe she treated
Grace any differently, but somewhere in her, that thought stuck, and
rose to the surface when she had been hurt the most.

And if Grace ever heard her mother say that, it would be just as awful a
thing as what Mulder's mother had done to him.

Beth rose, leaving Scully in her misery.
~~~~

After Grace's song had failed to produce even a smile from his mother,
Mulder had tried to comfort his daughter, suceeding only in tears and
hurt.

Aunt Beth had come in, taken her to get some Coke and to talk, and
Mulder now sat alone, wondering where Scully had gone and trying not to
think too much about his mother.

She was asleep now, after the blank stare they'd received as Grace had
sung her little tune, and Mulder was glad.

He didn't know what to say to his mother anymore.

Trying to shut out his mother, he instead remembered one of the
counseling sessions with Karen Kosoff, and the discussion that it
entailed.

She'd been shaking her head, frustrated with his non-answers and
figurative way of speaking.

Noting was ever direct about Mulder, nothing every spoke completely
about him. He hid behind ideals and stereotypes, saying it could be one
thing, or another.

She had blurted out her question, catching him so much by surprise that
he had answered truthfully.

"What did your mother do to you that was so bad?"

He was floored.

Completely and utterly taken away by this question, by her quick
understanding of his hell.

And his words had come straight up from the very dark places within him,
the very places that ached even when a breath of love passed close by.

"She never believed me."

They had sat there, Mulder looking at Karen, Karen looking right back
into him, the words warpped in the air, thick and palpable like cake
batter or melting time.

It was one of the most honest truths he had ever spoken in his life,
aside from his declaration to Scully that he really and truly *did* love
her, that it transcended everything, even truths like this that stared
him in the face and smacked him so hard into forever that he felt
unfixed.

Unfixed in time and unfixed in love.

Staring at his mother now, remembering the ache of that moment, he again
felt unfixed.

There was nothing there to bring him back, no arm to hold him down, no
child to anchor him with her own needs.

He remembered begging his mother to believe him, that look of cold
resignation in her eyes saying to him in every way:

<You lost your sister>

He lost his sister.

His mother believed nothing he said, convinced him he had let bad men
take her, made him feel betrayed by his own body for forgetting.

Even later, coming to her with the ideas that the regression therapy had
brought on, with the hope that she could still be *out there*, his
mother had not believed him.

Had no longer wanted to believe him.

His chance for love, for trust, for belief, had disappeared in a light
and a scream for help.

He'd been running his whole life after that scream, thinking that it was
the only thing that could win his mother's belief in him, win back her
love. 

And what now?

Did it matter so much anymore? Did the actions of years ago make him so
messed up that he could not control his *own* actions?

No.

Just because his mother's un-presence had left a gaping hole in him, did
not mean he had to fill it with porn and obsession, it did not mean he
had to find the worse things in life and feed off them.

No.

"No," he whispered.

No more subconsciously disobeying and flaunting his bad behavior in a
sick attempt to show that he did not *need* his mother's favor.

No more.

He had his life. He had his *own* life.

He did not need the ties of the old one.

A sudden gasp from the hospital bed made him stand, instantly alert,
instantly regretting such awful thoughts.

But she was merely dreaming.

He sat back down, sickened.

Spur of the moment convictions did nothing to improve lifetime habits.

Where was Scully?

He needed her again.
~~~~

The long hall was painted in a soft blue that made the light seem dim
and the corridor stretch forever.

The whole floor was warmed above normal temperature, and the glass panel
before Scully showed the faint reflections of mothers who had stood here
before, awed.

The nursery.

She remembered that feeling.

Standing there looking at the baby that had come from her, mixed in with
all the others, yet somehow more vibrant, more shining and alive than
any baby she'd ever seen.

Grace.

Her name said everything, spoke of all the miracles and all the prayers
and all the former pain and hurt and love that life had brought about in
her making.

Scully's fingers eased down the glass, smoothing her reflection, one
fingernail white and rounded as it came directly into her line of sight
with one of the newborn's pink faces.

She slid her finger to the side on the glass, and the face was obscured
by her own flesh, then she moved it away and there was the baby.

So easy to do, so hard to start.

Other women would say it differently. 

They would laugh and say it was an accident, and the hard part was the
pushing, the being tired, the contractions, the breaths.

Scully would shake her head and feel the bitterness in her rise against
them, and she would say no, no, pushing is the easy part.

Making her was the most ultimate of sacrifices, the most precious of
memories, the most horrid of years.

Leaning her head against the glass of the nursery, Scully gave a
startled breath.

After all that, why did she feel this way?

Beth had merely called attention to a thought, an image or idea or view,
that had already been growing inside her, slower and heavier than Grace
had been, but more deadly and more consuming.

Grace wasn't hers, not really.

Why had she said that? Why had it come from her?, with even the barest
chance that Grace could choose that moment to walk down the stairs, come
in the front door, hear. . .hear such a thing.

She sighed in a tremor that was almost a sob.

She loved her baby girl, loved her more than she had ever known love to
be. She would not abandon her, would not leave her, would not hurt her
the way Mulder had been hurt.

Yet she wondered, looking in at the rows of newborns, their faces
screwed up in protest of the new surroundings, or slack and sweet as
they slept.

She wondered.

If God had given her a child of her own, if He had touched her just as
he did Abraham's wife, Sarah, just as he did Isaac's wife, Rebekah, and
so many others stretching the span of Bible years. . . 

If God had touched Mulder's wife, Scully. . .

would her love of Grace be any less?

In her nightmares, she knew a version of the answer.

And she thanked God for not giving her that touch.
~~~~

Mulder stood up restlessly, ignoring Beth's eyes on him as he grew more
and more worried.

"Where did you last see her?"

"In the waiting room, Fox. I told you that."

Mulder shook his head and glanced to his sleeping mother. She was still
oblivious to their presence, still blind to the hurt she'd inflicted on
his life and his daughter's.

Grace was in a chair, playing with her Barbie and happily ignorant of
Mulder's concern for her mother.

"I'm going to go roam around. See if I can find her. If she comes back
here, tell her to wait for me."

As he left, he realized she probably *wouldn't* wait for him, but that
was to be expected.
~~~~

The elevator pinged once and sort of choked, making Mulder hastily step
off of it, wild images of plunging to his death called up by its feeble
noise.

He found himself by the Maternity ward, strategically placed directly
next to Oncology. He found himself berating the hospital planners, the
people who had thought to themselves, let's put the ones going out of
this world right next to those coming into it.

There's a depressing thought.

He pushed through the crowd at the elevators, carefully avoiding those
sick and frail ones who reminded him all too much of Scully, and stopped
before the double doors of Oncology.

Taking a deep breath, he made his way in, wondering why he was being
drawn to such a place.

Wondering why *Scully* might be drawn to such a place.
~~~~

She was just sitting there, thinking of Grace, her jeans damp from where
she had rubbed her sweaty palms into her thighs.

She couldn't think of a good reason to leave, or a better one to stay,
and she had lost track of time, staring in at the babies.

That's when she saw Mulder, stepping off the elevator like he thought it
would swallow him up, and then making his way through the crowd.

She felt a wild sense of hope thrill through her, but her turned right,
instead of left, and walked through the Oncology doors.

Death and Cancer.

She felt the same sickness overtake her, knowing that he expected to
find her there, at death and cancer's threshold rather than birth and
babies.

But it didn't quite hurt like she thought.

Instead, it made her smile.

He was worried about her, knowing that things were rocky between them at
times, knowing that sometimes life could be just too much.

She made a move to rise, but then didn't.

She couldn't seem to find the energy in her to go through those doors,
to see the faces of the women she had once resembled, to walk through
the halls that screamed dying hope.

Maybe Mulder would find her here.

And then they could go home.
~~~~
~~~~

"i am accused of tending to the past
as if i made it,
as if i sculpted it
with my own hands. i did not.
this past was waiting for me
when i came,
a monstrous unamed baby,
and i with my mother's itch
took it to breast
and named it. . ."
--From the book of poetry "Quilting" by Lucille Clifton

~~~~

His first step into Oncology felt like a brick wall slamming into him.

Or maybe just *him* running into a brick wall.

He backpedalled out of there, knocking into a feeble woman who merely
smiled at him as he apologized, then pushed him lightly to the door.

As he came out in a flurry of cowardice and gravity, he saw the doors to
Maternity swing open, and a couple walk out, and the hallway behind them
was soft and dark.

And holding Scully in its depths.

He slipped inside, careful not to run into any more people, his eyes
solely on her, watching her sigh on the bench, eyes shut.

"Scully?"

When her eyes opened and saw him, she smiled, and patted the seat next
to her.

"Scully. . ."

"Just sit here for a moment, Mulder. Sit and listen."

He watched her eyes close again, and her body relax into him, cheek
pressed to his shoulder. The place around them seemed to slow and divide
into a separate world, a place they could look at, but not touch.

He felt the same sensation, of being unfixed in time.

But he felt firmly planted in love, firmly rooted in all that was Dana
Scully.

A kind of sobbing breath stole from her and he saw her tears like thiefs
stealing down her cheeks, robbing her of her grief.

He kissed her nose and closed his own eyes.

He heard no noises: no nurses in the hall, no pages over the intercom,
no excited talk of women and men.

Instead, he breathed in and heard whispers. Heard laughter that was to
be, heard the entire future of a small infant wrapped tightly in a
colored blanket, all within that moment he came unfixed.

It was joy. . .

a breath,

and life

a whisper,

and forever

a smile,

and eternity. . .

right there in that moment.

. . .


. . .


. . .


Scully was tracing his hand with her fingers when he found himself
again, her eyes soft and smiling, although her mouth was turned down.

"That was what I needed," she said.

He nodded, but didn't know if that moment had really happened, or if he
had fallen asleep, or if she had merely sat beside him and let go of the
past.

He wondered if he had let go of the past too.
~~~~

When Grace learned of where her mother had been all that time, she
wanted to go up and see the babies again, and she begged and pleaded for
so long that Mulder finally gave in.

So they all took the elevator to the seventh floor, Grace'e eyes not
even straying to the Oncology ward, where a whole battle for life had
played out  long before any attempts to have her were even formed.

Scully held her up so she could see the babies, and Grace's eyes went
wide and she made silly faces at them, naming them to herself and
pretending that they would all come home with them.

Mulder smiled as he watched her fog up the window with her breath, and
laughed when she almost fell out of Scully's arms trying to see better.
He then took her and perched her higher up, letting her see more of the
room than she could at Scully's height.

He wondered what it said of him, that he spent more time looking at the
newborns than he did his own dying mother, but he really couldn't find
much guilt in him to be sad.

Scully went over to the Coke machine and got them all soda, despite her
admonition to Grace not to expect carbonated drinks all the time.

Grace knew her father would buy them for her anyway.

As they drank Dr. Pepper and laughed, it reminded Grace of a Pepsi
commercial and Mulder and Scully tried to remember what she was talking
about while the babies woke up or fell asleep or cried.

And Scully thought to herself that maybe she was fine.

Maybe she really and truly, at last, was perfectly fine.

<I'm fine, Mulder>

It could finally be true.

That made her laugh.
~~~~

Mulder frowned and put out a hand to stop Grace from running around the
room, making loud noises as she pretended to fly a spaceship.

Dr. Pepper at six o'clock wasn't a good idea.

He gave her a meaningful look and nodded to where his mother slept, and
then let her go.

She looked properly chastised, and then proceeded to whisper her noises
and screach with minimal decibel level, and yet somehow, still be
incredibly annoying with it.

He marvelled at it, then stopped her again and placed her in the chair
next to him, ignoring her frown and pout.

Scully was out like a light, her entire body so relaxed it made him
envious, and he watched her sleep with half his mind, the other
preoccupied with keeping Grace in the chair.

Scully had curled up in one of the softer chairs, so small that she
could fit right into it, her head on the arm and her entire body in the
seat.

Mulder laughed to himself, knowing she'd be so sore when she woke up.

Grace tapped his leg and scooted forward.

"Daddy, when's my birthday?"

"After Christmas, Gracie."

She nodded and counted on her fingers.

"I'm gonna be five."

"That's right. Five."

"Five is a special age, right, Daddy?"

"That's right."

Mulder pulled her from the chair and into his lap, tucking his arms
around her and settling back.

She pushed up against his chest, leaning back so she could see him.

"How is it special, Daddy?"

"Well. . .you get to go to school."

"And I get a TV. . .right Daddy?"

"That's right. You're old enough to have a TV in your room. And. . ."

"And I can go across the monkey bars at the playground!"

Mulder nodded seriously, keeping his face a mask as she was so clearly
thrilled by the idea of going all the way across the monkey bars at the
preschool she attended Tuesdays and Thursdays.

"And I get to go to School!"

"We said that already, but yes. You get to go to school every day."

Her face turned remote and she leaned back into his chest, playing with
the hair on her Barbie.

"What if I don't like having school every day?"

"Oh, you'll like it, Gracie. All your friends will be there too."

"What comes after that?"

"First grade."

"What if I don't like first grade?" she said and pushed up again to see
him.

"If you don't like first grade, I'll . . . I'll make you go anyway."

"Daddy!" she wailed and opened her mouth in shock.

"I'll make you go."

"No! Don't make me go if I don't like it!"

Mulder rolled his eyes and grabbed her hands, squeezing them
reassuringly.

"Baby, you know how you used to not like green beans, but I kept making
you eat them? Until one day you actually said you now like green beans?"

"I used to not like green beans?!" she said, her voice dramatic and
stunned, as if the concept were inconceivable.

"Right. You used to not like them. But I made you eat them. And now you
do. Well, if you don't like school at first, I'll make you go anyway,
and soon, you'll like it."

"Did Mommy go to school?"

"Yes, Mommy went to school."

Grace paused to think about this for a moment, digesting this new
horibble idea: that she could be made to go to school even if she didn't
like it.

"Mommy. . .did she like school?"

"Yes, Mommy liked school so much that she went to college, and even went
more than she had to."

"How much  more?"

"A few years more. She was a doctor, you remember?"

"A doctor."

"And then she changed to be in the FBI, like Daddy."

"Did you like school?" she asked.

Mulder stopped for a moment, wondering what was more important here, a
small little lie that might give her confidence, or the truth that could
damage her thinking forever.

"Yes, baby. I liked school."

He sighed with the lie and gave her a soft smile.

"You went extra too."

"That's right," he said, a bit surprised she knew this already.

"You went long time and then some more to a place in another country."

Mulder stared at her. "How'd you know that, Grace?"

She smiled angelically at him and shrugged. "I don't know."

He stopped trying to figure it out and simply shook his head.

"All right. You feeling better about school?"

"Yes. Five's a special age. And my birthday's right after Christmas."

"That's right."

"Will I get presents both days?" Her question sounded like she had just
realized what her birthday meant.

"Yes, you sure will."

"Will Santa bring me presents for my birthday too?"

Mulder shrugged and rubbed his chin.

"Ah, sure. He might."

"Wow. Special presents from Santa for my birthday!"

He groaned.

Maybe that hadn't been the right answer.

Scully woke just as Grace wiggled down from his lap, and her sleepy eyes
opened to his apologetic ones.

She yawned and sat up.

"What did you do?" she whispered, her voice gravelly and hoarse from
sleep and cold.

"I. . .I told Grace that Santa was going to bring her presents for her
birthday."

Scully sighed and closed her eyes. "I'm assuming you had the whole, five
is a special birthday talk?"

"Yeah. You know, I just want her to be excited about school, because
personally, I'm dreading it."

"Mulder, most normal people *are* excited about school. At least, until
about fifth grade. Then the newness wears off."

"So what are we going to do about Santa?"

"Maybe we can say that he only comes every five years, for the special
birthdays, and pray that she stops believing in Santa by ten."

Mulder's mouth dropped open.

"Scully!"

"Mulder, *you* got us into this."

He frowned. "I've  never had Santa before. I don't know what's going on
with some fat guy in a red suit."

Scully straightened up, moving her sore muscles in all directions, a
look of pain on her face.

He wasn't sure if it was because of the cramped muscles, or his mistake.

"Well, it'll work out. No problem. I told her that Santa didn't come for
birthdays because he was too busy, however. . ."

"Wait. She. . .you had this conversation already?"

Scully glanced over at him, eyebrow raised.

"Yes."

"Is that how she knew I went to England?"

Scully laughed, causing Grace to turn and look at them from her position
by the bed.

"What did she say to you Mulder?"

"That she didn't know if she would like school."

Scully's face went stricken and she raised up a bit. "Oh no. What did
you say when she asked what you would do if she didn't like school?"

Mulder smiled, glad he had this one right. "That I'd make her go
anyway."

Scully slumped back into the seat, then leaned over and kissed his
cheek.

"Bless your sudden fit of commonsense. I was afraid you'd tell her that
Santa would come rescue her."

Mulder frowned and shook his head. "That's not funny. I even told her I
*liked* school, so there."

Scully grew red and ducked her head, then turned away, as if the
conversation were over.

He grabbed her by the arm. "Why? What did you say?"

She was pulled down into his lap and she sat there for a moment. "I told
her that you didn't like school too much."

Mulder laughed. "We need to come up with a good story and stick to it,
Scully. She'll have us figured out in no time."

Scully smiled. "I think she already has."
~~~~

The motel felt chilly when they got in and Mulder turned to pull off his
coat, attempting to adjust the heater a bit.

Scully shivered and moved Grace into the bathroom to pull her clothes
off, getting her ready for a bath and then bedtime.

While the water ran, he couldn't hear what they were saying, but he got
the general idea that she was asking about Santa again.

He shook his head and untied his boots, then yanked them off, taking his
socks with them. Then his sweater went over his head and he stripped of
his jeans too.

Pulling on some old grey sweatpants and a black T-shirt, he headed
towards the bathroom to help with Grace's bath.

Scully was finding the right temperature when he came in, Grace naked
and jumping up and down while she yelled some song about Santa that he
was fairly sure she was making up.

He laughed at her and she punched him in the leg, frowning.

"Don't take after your mother, Gracie," he said, shaking a finger at her
bewildered look.

Scully reached over and flicked water in his face, making him gasp.

Grace laughed, but then shrieked when Scully got her too, blinking her
eyes to clear them of water.

Shutting off the faucet, Scully turned around to see Grace pushing at
Mulder, trying to get him to fall in the water.

"Grace. Stop pushing Daddy."

"But we're playing. Right Daddy?"

Mulder glanced to Scully and quickly grabbed Grace, making her stop.

"Let's get you in the bath," he said and lifted her over the side.

Her toes touched the water and she howled, drawing up into a ball in his
arms, tears forming in her eyes.

"Too hot!" she bawled and Mulder pulled her out, confused.

Scully's face was white, her hands shaking as she watched Grace cry. She
felt mortified as Mulder turned to look at her, his face accusing.

She stuck her hand in the water and grew furious.

"Grace!"

Grace's tears stopped on command at her mother's voice.

"This water is NOT too hot. Now, stop playing around and get in the
bath!"

Mulder frowned and stuck his finger in the water, and upon feeling the
lukewarm temperature, his own face clouded to match Dana's.

"Grace Amanda Mulder! Do *not* play games with us about something like
this. We need the truth from you so that we can tell when you're really
in trouble."

"It's too hot!" she said, and crossed her arms, fuming.

"Grace."

"It *is*!"

Scully's tongue ran over her teeth as she counted slowly to herself.

"Get in the bath, Grace."

Mulder picked her up again but she bucked and kicked out, managing to
connect solidly with Mulder's already bruised jaw.

The intensity of the pain made him drop her, and Scully watched in
horror filled slow motion as she fell, her head smacking the side of the
tub with such force that everything fell silent for one brief, agonizing
second.

Then Grace was crying, and Mulder was crying, and Scully was trying to
pick her up and hold her and mother her, while also trying to make sure
she wasn't broken or bleeding, and Mulder kept pushing to comfort her
and Grace cried harder as they bumped heads.

"It's okay, baby. It's all right. You're okay."

Grace sobbed and Scully felt around on the back of her head, coming up
with a good sized knot, causing Grace to screech with her tears as
Mulder hung back, afraid.

"You're okay. You're okay."

Scully made eye contact with Mulder, letting him know that everything
was fine, nothing was his fault, while she stood and carried Grace to
the bedroom.

It was still cold, and Grace began shivering, so Mulder came and wrapped
his arms around her while Scully cleaned the small amount of blood away,
then held an ice pack to her head.

"You're okay, Grace," she said again, coming to kneel before her on the
bed.

Grace snuffled and pushed away the tears.

"But baby, you can't kick like that when we're holding you, because you
could fall. We can't hold onto you when you're wriggling around like a
little bug," she said softly, smiling.

Grace smiled and then pouted. "I don't want to take a bath. . ."

"Grace. Mommies and Daddies know better for their little girls. You need
to take a bath, and when we're trying to hold you, it's very important
that you don't kick."

Scully clasped her hands together and kissed them softly, still smiling.

Grace looked up to her father and her mouth turned down again.

"I'm sorry I kicked you Daddy."

"You surprised me Gracie. I'm sorry I dropped you."

Grace raised her hand and felt for her bump. "I got a hurt head."

Scully smile. "Thankfully, that's all. But Grace, remember. It's not
Daddy's fault you fell, is it?"

Grace shook her head slowly and lowered her voice. "I was acting like a
bug. . .I shouldn't have kicked."

"That's right, baby." Scully leaned over and kissed her forehead. "But
you're okay now, right?"

"Right. . .Am I still going to have a bath?"

Scully looked her in the eye. "What do you think?"

"No?"

Giving her a playful nudge, Scully narrowed her eyes, pulling Grace into
her arms and carrying her back to the bathroom.

Mulder stayed on the bed, deciding it was best not to go near the
bathroom when Grace was in it.

He felt pretty miserable.

He was good at messing up things.

The most precious things in the world to him, and already he had
endangered both of them almost within the same month.

He was lucky Scully was even here, let alone that Grace didn't hate him
forever for dropping her. . .

Sighing, he laid back on the bed, closing his eyes.

His jaw ached terribly.
~~~~
~~~~

"When I look your way, turn your eyes astray
Cause I should know better by now."
--"God Makes The Rain" Cowboy Mouth

~~~~

Grace's mouth was set, her pout firm, and Scully sighed, giving up.

Walking out of the bathroom, keeping an eye out for more accidents, she
motioned for Mulder to relieve her.

Rubbing his jaw, he winced, looking up at her in question.

"She wants you to give her a bath," Scully said, focusing on his eyes as
she spoke so that she couldn't feel too much.

He nodded and moved into the bathroom to take over, letting Scully move
to his place, sinking into the bed.

She closed her eyes and pressed her palms to her lids, waiting until the
blackness was exploding with chemical fireworks before relaxing.

The small things were what hurt the most.

That was it.

Maybe seeing Diana in the hallway shocked her a bit, and the tiny
thoughts that crept in during the night. . .yes, those all shook her.

But what actually hurt, what caused her to breathe knives in her lungs,
were the little actions that pushed her away more and more.

Grace choosing to stay with her father, asking for him continuously when
they were separated, paying attention when he spoke, doing what Mulder
said and ignoring her.

Asking to have him give her a bath.

Those were the things.

She turned over on the bed, pushed her face into the pillow, letting its
cool touch soak up her tears.

She knew it was selfish, knew that wanting her little girl to love her
more was probably wrong, but it didn't stop the feelings.

If she would only love her mother equally. . . even that would be
better.

Stiffling another cry, she pressed her lips together and stood, pulling
off her clothes and snuggling into a T-shirt and boxers. It reminded her
of earlier that morning, trying to get Grace to simply stay still so she
could dress her. The only thing that had worked was involving Mulder, a
race, his voice telling her to hurry up.

Brushing her hair angrily, she tried to get rid of the thoughts, wishing
for that moment of peace she'd found in the nursery.

This isn't right, she thought. 

Grace was hers. . .hers.

So why did she feel like the evil stepmother?
~~~~

Mulder laughed and pulled Grace from the water, careful to keep a firm
hold on her slippery wet body.

"Daddy, can I sleep with you?"

Mulder rubbed the towel over her face, making her giggle, and then
attempted to dry off the rest of her.

"No, baby. You need to sleep in your own bed."

"But I want to sleep with you."

"Grace."

The little girl closed her mouth, pouting, her little lip turned in a
way that reminded him of Scully.

She was trying to be serious, but he laughed at her face and she grew
indignant, pushing him.

That kind of surprised him and he sat back on his heels, looking at her.

"Grace. . ."

She had her mouth resolutely clamped, the towel wrapped around her
tightly.

He sighed. "I think someone's tired."

Grace said nothing, but let him lead her to the room, her chin held high
and her towel pulled around her like a queen's robe.

Mulder looked to the bed and saw Scully already asleep, curled on her
side on top of the covers.

"Okay, Grace. Let's be quiet for Mommy."

Grace made a face at him and he frowned, pulling her pajamas from the
floor.

Grace threw them to the side and shook her head.

"Mommy gives me new pajamas!"

"Baby, quiet." he said, and looked at her sternly.

"Hey, Daddy! Let's jump on the bed and wake Mommy up!"

Mulder was a little slow, but he managed to catch her right before she
could topple over Scully, grabbing her up as she squealed, his face a
mask of barely controlled fury.

Scully woke and sat up, her eyes wide with something that he sinkingly
recognized as fear.

"Sorry, Scully. She's a little nuts tonight," he explained, pulling
Grace back to the suitcases.

Scully nodded and sat there, watching him hold her down to get her pants
on, then the way Grace sort of melted into his arms, her head lolling
against his arm as he pulled her shirt on.

Grace was halfway asleep when he tucked her in bed, kissing her good
night and then turning off the light.

In the darkness, Scully stood and reached out, her fingers touching
Grace's hair. She bent down to kiss her and the girl turned away in her
sleep.

Closing her eyes, she straightened up, pushing away the rising grief
with her own weariness.

Mulder's arm caught her before she managed to turn away and she sank
gratefully into the bed with him, shutting  down her mind to the
thoughts spiralling around in her.

"Good night, Scully."

She felt the softness of his lips along her collarbone and she sighed,
touching his forehead.

"Night, Mulder."

The room lit suddenly from a car's headlights, allowing Mulder to see
her tears, but he said nothing, merely kissed them away and closed his
eyes.

She felt grateful for his silence and lay there, trying to figure out
when everything had gone so wrong.
~~~~

She heard something from far away, and as it drew nearer, she jerked up,
awake immediately.

The phone.

Mulder was cradling it in one of his large hands, nodding and talking
softly, his face a mask of grim pain.

She slid closer, resting against his back and cirlcing him with her
arms.

It was something bad, she knew. 

His mother.

He hung up and sat there for a moment, breathing softly in the late
night heaviness of half sleep and half dreams.

"She's not doing very well."

Scully nodded softly, closing her eyes to the gamut of pain and sorrow
and exceptional grief ranging across his face.

"They don't think she'll make it through the night."

Scully let out a sigh and pressed her lips into his shoulder, her tears
only making it worse.

He turned and hugged her fiercely, as if he were holding on to her for
dear life, his face pushed roughly into her neck.

"You stay here, Scully. I'd. . .I'd like to be alone. . ."

She nodded, even though his admission hurt, and kissed his temple.

"I don't want Grace watching her die, either."

She nodded again, and watched him stand, moving away from the safety of
her arms with an air of reluctance.

She felt cold in the sudden chill and pulled the covers up to her lap,
her eyes steadily on him.

Mulder moved around the dark room with a kind of grace that spoke of
doing things like this a lot, a creature of the night who felt best
suited to the low light conditions.

He pulled his sweatpants off and yanked on some jeans, then ran his
fingers through his hair, sighing. His socks and shoes were pulled on
quietly, his back to her.

Grabbing his leather jacket, he turned to her, and their eyes locked.

For just an instant, they stood there, trapped in each other's gaze, so
much said and unsaid that when he finally moved away, she felt bruised.

"Mulder!"

He turned, glanced to her once and lowered his head, looking at his
shoes.

"Be careful," she whispered, for some reason dreading this separation.

He smiled and leaned over to kiss her softly.

"I'll be all right," he said, his lips moving along her skin as he
spoke.

She nodded and he opened the motel door, grabbing one of the keys from
the table.

Before she could even blink, the door was shut and the motel room
plunged into darkness again.

She listened intently and heard the car start, listened to the crunch of
the tires against the asphalt, then the whispers of the engine moving
away.

Feeling desolate, she looked to the other bed, finding Grace still
asleep, her face soft in the slivers of light that came from a rip in
the curtains.

Scully lay back down, sure she wouldn't fall asleep now, but it came and
dragged her down anyway.

She had convoluted dreams about Samantha and Diana and Grace, and
nothing made any sense.
~~~~
~~~~

"A mother's hardest to forgive;
Life's the fruit she longs to hand you
Ripe on a plate, and while you live
Relentlessly she understands you."
--"The Adversary" Phyllis ?

~~~~

She groaned as the fist rammed into her, shattering her dreams into a
million pieces.

Her eyes opened and she saw that it was not fist, but a tiny girl,
jumping up and down on the bed, her knee the culprit.

"Gracie, stop jumping."

She closed her eyes again, knowing full well that Grace would not
listen, and feeling too tired to enforce her words.

But when she got a foot in her side, she sprang up, angry.

"Grace! Stop it now!"

Grace paused mid-jump, collapsing into the bed with a stricken look,
sitting there still and tense.

Scully shook her head and glanced to the clock, wishing for more time.

It was already ten o'clock.

Scully sank back down into the bed, pulling Grace to her, giving her a
rough hug meant to say she was sorry for losing her temper.

Grace shied away and pouted at the end of the bed.

"Where's Daddy?"

"He's gone to the hospital, baby."

"I want to see Daddy."

Scully counted to herself, taking the time to pull a shaking hand
through her tangled hair.

"Can't. He's got the car."

"But I want to see my Daddy!"

Scully turned to her, eyes ice cold, so completely hurt and confused
that she wasn't sure even what she said.

Something like no.

Grace's eyes drew tears, but Scully wasn't getting sucked into that one
again, and she ignored her tantrum and stepped to the bathroom.

"When I get out of the shower, you'd better be dressed."

As she turned on the water, she could feel her rage slip away, swirl
down around the tub, and slide down the drain.

She paused, then turned back to say she was sorry.

Grace was sticking her tongue out at her, making faces.

She quickly stopped when she saw her mother was watching and hid behind
the bed.

Scully thought better of apologizing and slammed the door.
~~~~

In the hot spray of water, Scully rubbed her hair furiously, trying to
work out all the anger and grief on herself, so things like that morning
wouldn't happen again.

She was already worried about Mulder and the added stress of trying to
forget how alienated she felt from her own daughter was more than she
wanted to handle today.

The soap stung her eyes and she gasped, closing her eyes tight, pressing
her fist into her sockets, the tears sliding gracefully into the tub.

She stuck her head under the water and blinked a few times, withstanding
the searing pain for brief moments until the soap was gone.

Breathing irregularly, she sank against the tiles, eyes closed.

There was just too much battling through their lives: his mother and her
coldness, his Aunt Beth's rationalizing that struck too similiar a cord
in her, her own sick feeling whenever she really started thinking, and
Grace's lashing out.

She tried to understand it, tried to figure out a reason for her
daughter's cranky and sensitive behavior.

Their problems had to be affecting her, the fights and long absences,
the times apart from either parent. . .it all had to be making her feel
insecure, off balanced.

Maybe that was why she lashed out. Why her eyes seemed to regard Scully
coldly, why her hands never reached for her mother anymore.

Scully felt her knees give way and she sat down heavily in the tub,
crying.

Grace blamed her. . .that was it. 

That was why all of this had happened.

Grace blamed her for moving out, for disrupting her family. . .

Grace thought it was her fault.

She heard the door crack open and felt the cool breeze come sliding
through  her shower, inching along her skin.

She shivered and stood hastily, rubbing her eyes.

Grace's face peeked through the curtain and she glanced up at her
mother, her lips downturned.

"Mommy?"

"Yeah baby?"

Grace seemed to pause, to gather her courage maybe, and she squinted up
through the growing mist to see her mother.

"Can I take a shower too?"

Scully pushed her wet hair from her face and smiled happily, sinking
down to Grace's level.

"Sure darling. Take your jammies off, and then get in."

Grace's face lit up and she pushed the curtain back, then shut the door.

Scully felt whole again.

Strange, how one moment she felt like nothing would ever be right, and
now, how she felt as if she'd been given the best gift ever.

A little girl.

Grace loved to take showers, thinking it was grown-up. She had taken
showers with Scully from when she was a baby, her mother finding it
easier to handle when it was just them, alone in the house.

As the little girl slid over the side, she laughed, clinging to her
mother's legs and letting the water hit her face.

"Is it too hot, baby?"

Grace smiled and shook her head, then followed Scully's movements as she
finished shampooing her hair.

The spray was hitting her right in the face, no matter where she moved,
so Scully reached up and repositioned the nozzle, making it jet off to
the side, soaking the tiles rather than their bodies.

She sat down next to Grace in the tub and squeezed the baby shampoo into
her hands.

Grace went very still and let her mother shampoo her hair in a gentle
rhythm, eyes closed to keep the soap out.

Then Scully backed her just under the weakest part of the spray, the
water misting down and rinsing her hair.

When it was done, Grace laughed and hugged her hard, trying to catch the
water with her fingers.

"Tell me about when I was a baby," Grace said, sitting down again as
Scully lathered her legs to shave.

"When you were a baby."

"In the shower. Tell me that story."

It was something she never got tired of hearing, all 'her' stories, ones
that were really very simple, but she always laughed and smiled.

"Daddy was in Maine. . ."

Grace spoke up, cutting in. "In Augusta."

Scully smiled and didn't add that he was actually in Fort Western,
sticking his nose is where it didn't belong.

"Right, Augusta. And Mommy had to go to the airport to pick him up, but
I couldn't find anyone to look after you."

"Cause Gramma was out of town."

Scully nodded again and tapped her nose.

"That's right. You were a little baby. It was early, early, about one
o'clock, and I had to go get Daddy. But I had to take a shower first and
get both of us dressed and get down there very quickly."

Grace's smile was huge and she said nothing, caught up in the story.

"So, I thought it would be faster to bring your little baby seat in the
shower with me, and set you in it. Our shower is pretty wide, and so you
were out of the spray of water, and I could still watch you."

Grace grabbed for the bar of soap and squished it around in her hands,
making the white sudsy foam bubble over her fingers.

"But I liked the water, right Mommy?"

"That's right. You laughed when the water accidentally sprayed you, and
I ended spending about an hour in the shower, with you playing in the
water."

Grace's smiled widened, her eyes bright and wet hair curving around her
face like a Superman curl.

"And we made Daddy wait at the airport for a long time. . ."

Scully nodded and grabbed for the soap, making it spurt out between
their hands and crash to the tub.

Grace held out her soapy hands and smeared it on Scully's arms,
giggling.

"Then what happened, Mommy?"

"Well, when we got there, my hair was all wet and tangled because of the
wind and you were still laughing, with your bright red hair like a
thicket on top-"

"But it wasn't wet-"

"It wasn't wet. And Daddy looked at us for a long time before he said
anything, and then he said-"

"I'm glad you found the time to come and get me," Grace quoted, pitching
her voice low and trying to keep from laughing.

"That's right. And he wasn't mad. . ."

"Not at all."

Scully watched her daughter finish the story, inhaling the scent of baby
shampoo and soap and water and skin.

She wanted to laugh, with as much delight as the baby Grace had done
upon first discovering water. 

"Let's get dressed, huh, Gracie?"

"Are we going to pick up Daddy, now?"

Scully frowned, her eyebrows twisting together as Grace glanced up at
her, the happy moment gone.

"No, baby. Daddy's got the car. He's going to come to us."

"Oh. . .let's get dressed then."

Scully reached out and shut off the water, pulling aside the curtain and
stepping out.

She leaned over and attempted to pick Grace up, but the little girl
swiped at her hands.

"I can do it myself," she said, and proceeded to climb over.

Scully put it all out of her head, dismissed her behavior as latent fear
over her and Mulder's recent problems, and grabbed a towel.

She dried herself off and then handed it to Grace, leaving her there in
the bathroom to 'do it herself' while she got dressed.

Scully bit on her lip and finger-combed her hair, then pulled it up out
of her way with a rubber band. She glanced in the mirror, trying to
recall the images of the long ago story she'd been telling Grace, the
idle worry that had shot through her happiness.

Mulder had been stupid, sneaking around Fort Western on a lame hunch,
but he wouldn't wait for her mother to come back so they could go
together. No, he'd had to run off by himself and tackle it all.

His call had been breathless, startling, making her feel panicked and
confused.

But that hour watching Grace smile in the shower, soaking in the sense
of life and love she gave. . . it had calmed her, given her the
confidence she needed to go face the fruits of Mulder's stupid
decisions.

Grace loved the story not because they'd taken a shower, but more
because they'd been on their way to pick up Mulder, because she had
gotten to do something big and grown-up before seeing her father.

Pressing her lips together, she heaved in a breath and expelled it
slowly, trying to let the air take away her posionous thoughts.

She grabbed some underwear and pulled it on, walking around trying to
find her clothes and Grace's, then pulling on some jeans she had worn
the other day because, for some reason, none of her clothes were clean.

There was a stain on the knee from where Grace had run off in the
hospital and collided with a lunch tray, Scully right behind her trying
to reign her in.

She smiled at the thought, even though at the time it'd been annoying
and embarassing, and pulled a cotton shirt on over her head, ignoring
the radio's warnings of mild rain and freezing windchill.

As she moved back to the sink, she suddenly remembered.

Grace.

"Grace?"

Silence.

The panic started in her chest before she'd even had time to finish
looking in the bathroom, the towel still sitting in a damp pile on the
floor, wet foot prints ending at the carpet.

"Grace?"

Not behind the shower curtain.

She ran from the bathroom, eyes flitting rapidly over the empty beds,
the lone table, the door.

The door.

Woudn't she have heard the door open? Wouldn't she have known?

Scully dashed towards it anyway, her mind berating her for being so
involved in her own problems that she had let Grace wander off.

Yanking open the door, her face a tight twist of indescribable fear,
Scully stopped dead still.

Parking lot, long corridor of doors, the stairs, the pool.

"Grace!" she screamed, and dashed for the stairs, heart pounding in her
head, blood running so quick she couldn't catch her breath.

Oh God, not the pool.

Oh God, not my baby. . .

It was foggy outside, and the sun couldn't be seen, only greyness and
murky gloom that caught her in a web of sickness.

She felt her stomach lurching, listened for splashes, for Grace
screaming, for anything.

"Gracie!"

Her heart choked her throat and she ran ahead, slamming full force into
the wire fence surrounding the pool, managing to shred through her shirt
and clip her jeans.

Grunting, she pulled at the gate until it swung open, and Scully
realized with a sick feeling that it was easy to open, easy enough for a
four year old running from her mother.

She bent carefully at the edge of the pool, straining to see in, but the
gloom and fog turned in on her like the Red Sea swallowing up Egypt's
army.

Trying to keep from sobbing, Scully ran back to the gate, through the
long stretch of parking lot, then dashed back up the stairs.

She would call the manager, get him out there to shine some lights on
the place, or help her look, or something.

She needed help.

Oh God, not Grace. . .

She sprinted into the room and tripped over the doorframe, managing to
catch herself on the bed, and then she stumbled to the phone.

Glancing down to the nightstand, her fingers trembling as she started
dialing, Scully noticed a foot.

Her heart flipped crazily in her chest and she kneeled down, hanging up
the phone.

Touching the foot with a reverent finger, she gasped.

"Grace?"

The little girl jumped, then slid out from under the bed, rubbing her
head.

"You made me bump my head. I was playing hide and seek. You didn't do it
right. . ."

Her words trailed off as she stood face to face with her mother, her
mouth open as she stared at the trembling, crying woman before her.

"Mommy?"

"Oh Gracie. . ." Scully wrapped her arms around the little girl, hugging
her tight tight tight, one hand coming up to cradle her head, the other
squeezing her waist.

"Gracie. . .You scared me!"

The little girl was half clothed, only a scant T-shirt on, and her
Barbie underwear, as if she had stopped in the middle of dressing to
hide under the bed.

"I called for you. . .Why didn't you answer me?"

Scully held her away from her body, peering right into her eyes, her own
features distorted by worry.

"That's not how you play hide and seek. . .Mommy! You're bleeding!"

Grace writhed in her grip, as if sickened by the sight, and Scully
remembered randomly that Melissa had hated the sight of blood.

Touching her tongue to her lip, sheh tasted the bitter copper of her
bleeding mouth, and stood, one hand still on Grace's shoulder.

She shut the door as she passed and led Grace to the sink, then picked
her up and placed her on the counter, not willing to let her out of her
sight.

Dabbing at her mouth with a washcloth, Scully winced, then wet it with
cold water to keep it from swelling up.

The fence, she thought.

Grace watched her with a sense of morbid fascination, her heels beating
into the cabinets below as she swung her legs back and forth.

"What did you do Mommy?"

Scully's eyes slid over to Grace and she sighed. "I went looking for
you. It's foggy outside and I couldn't see, so I ran into a fence."

Grace hissed. "Ouch."

"Right. Ouch."

"But, I was in *here* Mommy."

"Well, baby, you forgot to tell me that we were playing hide and seek
when you started hiding. You scared me. I didn't know where you were."

Grace was silent for a moment, then she turned her head, muffling her
voice when she spoke.

"I'm sorry. I was just trying to play."

Scully sighed and wondered what Mulder would have done.

<Checked under the beds first, not the pool> said an annoying voice.

"Daddy plays hide and-"

"I'm sorry, then Grace!" Scully exploded, sick at herself and at the way
things were all the time. "I'm sorry I'm not Daddy. I'm sorry you're not
with him. . ."

She closed her mouth, turned her head, feeling even worse for having
said it, and leaned heavily against the sink.

Her eyes slid shut and she sighed, feeling her blood pulse through her
shredded lip and shake her head into pieces.

Grace slid down from the counter and dropped to the floor, then went to
the bed to get the rest of her clothes, changing quickly while her
mother breathed in and out in front of the mirror.

She sat down on the bed, then gathered up her Barbie dolls and Blue dog
and all the other toys strewn around. Carefully, she placed it all in
her bag and then zipped it up. She smiled remembering her Daddy had
given it to her; it used to carry his important camera stuff.

She placed that on the floor by the table, then tried to yank up the
sheets, to kind of make the bed up for her mother.

Scully was still trying to regain her balance when Grace tapped her on
the leg, pulling on her jeans.

"Yeah, Grace?"

"Can I see Daddy now?"

Scully crumpled to the floor.
~~~~

After a fit of sobbing, crying, screaming, and throwing things, Scully
managed to get Grace to eat lunch, wash her face, and then take a nap.

In the blessed silence of her sleep, Scully watched Grace dream, noting
the way her mouth moved as if she were sucking on a bottle, and the
small noises that she'd had since she was a baby.

She knew all the shades and nuances of her daughter in sleep, and the
depth of emotions that she carried with her from those times came
together then, in the quiet moments were Scully could find some kind of
peace.

She felt awful for panicking when Grace had merely been hiding under the
bed, and she felt awful for yelling at her, and awful for then crying in
front of her, and then awful again for whatever else she might have done
that had made Grace so picky and stubborn and angry today.

The room was bathed in shadows, with the curtains pulled, and just a few
slivers of light peeked through, making a yellow brick road to the
bathroom.

She stood up and went to the other bed, thinking it best that she get
some sleep too. Once she laid down, however, all she could think about
was her miserable relationship with Grace.

She reached over for the phone and picked it up, thinking she'd call
Mulder at the hospital.

Her hands stilled on the numbers, and she didn't dial.

No, to call Mulder would be to admit defeat. It would say, Mulder come
get your daughter, her mother is going nuts.

She shook her head and found herself punching in another number, longer,
one that came easily and from her heart.

Her mother's voice answered on the second ring.

"Hello?"

It was breathless, as if she had known, and had run to the phone.

"Mom?"

"Dana? Hey sweetie."

"Mom, I need to talk to you."
~~~~

The tears glistened on her face as she retold everything, and she spent
an hour trying to choke the words past the rising lump in her throat.

In the end, her mother just sighed, her voice sounding like the weary
whisper of experience.

"Dana. . .I want you to think about something for me, all right?"

"Sure Mom."

"When you were little, what were some of your favorite times?"

Scully felt warmth return to her and she smiled.

"When Dad would get home on leave."

"Right. When your father was here."

Scully's breath stopped and she cupped the phone to her ear, tighter,
dreading the truth she was faced with.

"You. . .no. Mom, I didn't mean it like that."

"Yes, you did, Dana. And I have already gone through what you're going
through four times. With Billy, Melissa, Charlie, and especially you.
You've always been Daddy's girl, sweetheart. Why'd you think it'd be any
different with Grace?"

Scully felt her guilt crash down on her like a weight.

"I made you feel this awful. . .oh, Momma, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, Dana. I know you didn't mean for it to happen. But your father was
the family's hero. When he came home, he could do no wrong. He let you
guys do all the things I told you not to, simply because he was home,
and it was a special time. Of course, when he left, you cried and fought
me and generally never did as I asked."

Scully rose up from the bed, moving around the little girl still sound
asleep on the other one, pushing herself into the bathroom and closing
the door.

"But, Momma, I love you. I loved you then, more than anything. You were
the one who never left us behind. . ."

She could hear her mother sigh and then laugh.

"Dana, I was luckier than your father. I had all four of you every day,
and he only got a special time once every few months. So maybe the bond
wasn't as incredible, or the times always like heaven, but you were
mine. You were mine. And I knew you loved me."

"What do I do, Mom? How can I make it change? Mulder doesn't leave for
months on end. . .we *both* work. We both leave for the same amount of
time. How can she be so much closer to him?"

Scully leaned her head against the cold tiles, feeling the stain of
truth on her soul.

"Dana, she's a Daddy's girl, sweetheart. There's something about men and
the Scully women. It's nothing you can help."

Dana laughed and sighed. "But I want it to be better."

"Honey, in Grace's mind, she loves you. No way to miss that. *You* just
have to accept the fact that she's her father's own little fan club. Get
over it, Dana." 

The words were said softly, but they still shot straight to her soul.

Pulling her hair from the rubber band, she ran her fingers through the
damp strands.

"I guess."

Margaret Scully sighed, wishing she could be there to give her baby girl
a hug.

"Think of it like this. How is our relationship, Dana? How did you think
of me all those years when your father only saw us twice a year?"

"I loved you completely. I love you completely now. That will never
change."

"And I love you too. . .and so does Grace."

Sculy wiped at the tears falling down her cheeks and sniffed, laughing
even as she cried.

It felt better somehow, even though she'd done nothing.

"Thanks, Momma. I needed that."

"All right, sweetie. How's Fox's mother doing, by the way?"

Scully sat up straight, horrified.

"Oh no, I forgot. They called last night, said she wouldn't make it
through, so he went down there. I need to call, Mom. See what's going
on."

"Okay, darling. I'll talk to you later."

"Thanks, Mom. I love you."

"Love you too."

Scully hung up, scrambled from the floor, pulling the phone back with
her. She glanced to Grace, and saw she was still sleeping.

Looking at the clock she noted the time.

Two in the afternoon.

Where *was* Mulder?
~~~~
~~~~

"nothing so patient as truth.
nothing so faithful as now.
walk out old chief, old husband,
enter again your own wife."
--"february 11, 1990", Lucille Clifton

~~~~

When he got there, all was death.

All was white and bright and cleansed, and a memory of another woman not
there when he arrived.

Running to the room, gaping at the clean pillow, the bright sheets, the
white walls scrubbed down, he felt rocked from reality.

No old woman barely breathing, no tubes running to frail fingers, no
eyes shutting him out.

All was death.

It was early yet, and he backed away, fear clutched deep within him
because he had not felt the final moment.

Beth was behind him; he stumbled into her, gasping for a breath that had
not come for his mother.

"She's gone, Fox. Right after we called."

He spun away, ran to the elevator, pressed the button, all the call
buttons, waiting for something to take away the almost pain thudding
through his chest.

His mother, his mother, and he never got a chance.

Never had a chance with her.

"Fox!"

He ran back, ignored the opened elevator, recognizing the craziness in
him but not able to stop it.

"Fox, wait."

He ignored his aunt, plowed through the halls like a man possessed, and
maybe he was. Maybe his mother's spirit had come to him in the car,
taken him over, seen the world from his view, and was sorry now.

Sorry now.

He never had a chance.

A strong grip brought him to a halt, falling into the arms holding him
back, the ice-silver hair of his aunt like mercury rising.

He wanted to scream.

"Fox. Go back to your wife, let her know."

"I. . .I never had a chance. I never got things fixed. You don't-"

"Fox Mulder. . .stop scaring me."

He shook his head and walked away, under his own power, by his own
warped sense of guidance, reaching for a mother who was not there.

"Can I see her? One last good bye."

A doctor was there then. Guiding him forward, pulling back a sheet, and
it was cold, so very cold all around him.

When had he jumped in time?

He was not in the hallway asking to see his mother's body anymore.

He was seeing his mother's body.

Her teeth were out.

Her body arched, hands like claws, hair limpid and so colorless.

It made her sunken cheeks look skeletal, and her eyes were horridly
open.

He reached over to shut them, to bring some kind of closure, but when
his fingers touched her skin, he jumped.

He couldn't breathe.

There was such a chill, such an overwhelming smell of death, in such a
familiar place.

Autopsy suite. . .steel table. . .scalpels.

He would never again be able to watch Scully work. Never again see her
hands cut a body without thinking:

that could be my mother

that was my mother

my mother

is gone.

He leaned forward, braced himself for the feel of dead meat and heavy
thick skin that slid around under his touch.

He gagged but closed her eyes.

He closed them.

Found that the gaping hole in him was gone.

Somewhere gone. Like her eyes and her soul and her essence.

Beth took his arm and led him away, up the steps, across the frozen
expanse of nothingness that was his mind.
~~~~

It was dark here, and he liked it.

It reeled before his vision just like the empty hospital room reeled
when he'd gone in there.

Maybe he was drunk.

Whether that was from alcohol or grief or confusion, he didn't know.

The bar was warm.

Not 'just like' his mother's skin as he reached down to shut her eyes.

To touch her one last time, still begging for a chance.

And Samantha meant nothing, and mothers meant nothing, and bars that
were too hot meant nothing.

Chances meant nothing.

Unless it was a chance with Scully.

He wondered where she was. With him somewhere, he could feel that. Maybe
over in the next booth.

His booth was too warm to get away from right now, and he as doing valid
testing right then.

Valid testing of his new theory.

The hole was closed.

It was there, but not. Like a seam in him that itched sometimes, and
pulled, or maybe it was more like stitches.

Stitches like they sew up corpses with after an autopsy. Like Scully
sewed up her bodies with out there when they worked. 

Did that mean he was dead?

She had sewed him up good and tight.

This hole was never coming open again.

His mother's eyes were closed and his hole was closed and now, he was
testing it out.

If it hadn't worked, he had nothing.

It was hot.

Too hot.

Too much spinning around.
~~~~

It was brighter now.

There was no failures in the test.

He had not sinned against his god.

He wondered again where she was.

Something was nagging him. 

Not his mother's cold skin, or the closed eyes, or Scully's sutures.

Scully.

Something about her was off.

In his picture book mind, the stories he was telling himself were too
simple, without words, and he could not connect them.

His mother was dead.

Too many words now. Too much thought.

"I never had a chance," he whispered and looked up, afraid.

He drank again.
~~~~

There she was, all silvered and ancient, her eyes deep in her sockets
like rocks sinking in the mud after it rains.

He smiled politely to her -- if anything, she'd taught him to be polite.

She shook her head and pulled the glass from his hands.

"You're going to end up like your father."

He silently agreed, but said no anyway.

"Stop drinking, you fool."

He was surprised. She was treating him like she treated his father.
Amazing.

Was he his father?

Mulder glanced down.

No. No.

He was still in his jeans and black T-shirt, hopelessly drunk and
uncoordinated, but him.

He glanced up, and his mother was gone.

His mother was always going to be gone.

That was how it was. That was life.

Life was eyes shutting and sutures in the holes were love was supposed
to go.

Life was getting the stuffing knocked out of you as a kid, and then shot
and stuffed and hung on a wall as an adult.

He laughed at himself and sobered.

He needed to be sober.

Because he had a sewed up hole that was itching and a little girl to be
a daddy to.

He ran to the bathroom and gave the sink his vomit.
~~~~

When she came in, he was almost there.

She was with Grace, and pale, like she was replaying some bad memory
that just wouldn't shake her.

Grace stared at him, thunderstruck, hands clutching her mother's.

He sighed and scooted down to let them in the booth.

Scully pushed Grace into the seat opposite him and they sat there for a
long time, thinking or feeling maybe, and trying not to yell.

Mulder eyed her very carefully, showing her he was basically sober, only
had a few in him at the moment that were still circulating.

"What happened, Mulder?"

He closed his eyes, then panicked and opened them again.

She was still looking at him.

"I got there and she was already gone."

Scully nodded and ran a hand over Grace's hair, carefully blocking her
eyes from the scenes of the bar around them.

"So. . .you came here?"

"I had to make sure it was really gone."

She didn't understand, but she never really understood half the things
he said anyway.

"Why didn't you come get me?"

He glanced up to her and shook his head.

"I think it's gone, Scully. That hole I told you about. I went and
looked at her. . .she was cold and gone, Scully. And something in me
just went too."

He was saying her name a lot, as if the sound could bring him back to
her faster, as if it could make her understand.

"Oh," she said softly and bit her bottom lip.

There was something she had to ask, and he could see it.

"No," he said.

She looked right into him, head cocked in askance.

"I didn't. Nothing happened. I'm yours. . .only yours."

Her eyes were bright and she relaxed, reaching her hand out to touch
his.

Grace was watching them intently, her whole being still and captivated,
holding her breath.

Mulder stood and pulled Scully up, their bodies meeting and crashing
into each other like sea and shore.

She licked her bottom lip and smiled, then closed her eyes.

He couldn't breathe.

"Open your eyes, Scully."

She did so, confused, feeling how cold and tense he was, how his breath
ran jagged through his throat.

He eased into her, face to her neck, holding her like they were slow
dancing to a rhythm only in his head.

She stroked his hair and kissed his chin.

"I had to close her eyes. . .they were wide wide open, staring. I
reached over and closed them," he whispered.

Scully sighed and then shook her head.

"We can't stay awake all our lives, Mulder."

Wow. An important, mind wrenching thought on two levels. He was outdone.

He managed a laugh and then looked over at Grace, reaching out a hand to
her. His little girl came joyfully, bounding up into his arms and
hugging him tightly around the neck.

"Did you have fun today, baby?"

Grace glanced to her mother, eyes wide.

"Mommy and I played hide and seek," she said.

Scully laughed and Mulder gave up ever trying to understand the humor
there, then they all walked to the door.

"I'll drive, Mulder," Scully said, pulling the keys from his front jeans
pocket.

He gave her a look.

"Watch where your hands are roaming. I'm a married man."

She smiled and raised her eyebrows at him, moving to unlock the car.

"Well then. I suggest you get home to your wife. She's probably worried
sick about you."

He buckled Grace into the backseat and then slid into the passenger
side, breathing out slowly as the day seemed to spin.

She looked at him, reached out her hand to steady him and he grabbed it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered and kissed her fingertips.

Her hand curled around his touch and she sighed.

"Next time, Mulder. . .I'm here."

Her eyes were dark and brooding, lips red from the cold.

He shook his head.

"There's not going to be a next time."
~~~~

Rift 5: Gamble
Author: RocketMan >lebontrager@iname.com<
C0-Producer: Melissa Kennedy >scullee@email.com<
     Melissa has come up with at least half of this story line, her
insight into Scully and Grace's relationship is phenomenal, and she
deserves the credit for it.
WARNING::::This set contains extreme agnst. Do NOT read if you are
sensitive to death.

NOTES:::::PLEASE READ THIS IF YOU WISH TO FOLLOW THE RIFT UNIVERSE
Due to popular opinion, I am going to keep writing in this theme. It
won't be the exact point where I left off in Refine, but roughly six
months later. 
Dedication::: This set is for all of you who wrote and encouraged me
with such wonderful feedback. . .I tried to write everyone something
back about it and I hope you find this journey one to challenge your
spirit.

~~~~
Gamble
~~~~

"later i'll say
i spent my life
loving a great man

later
my life will accuse me
of various treasons. . .

will accuse me for unborn babies
and dead trees

later
when i defend again and again
with this love
my life will keep silent
listening to
my body breaking"

--"later i'll say", Lucille Clifton

~~~~

Grace watched her mother move around the kitchen, smelling the spaghetti
steam wafting in the air, fingering her shirt with a kind of nervousness.

"What is that?"

Scully turned and ruffled her hair with a smile.

"Dinner, Gracie."

Her nose wrinkled with the words and she pulled away from her mother's
hand, pushing her hands deep in her pockets.

"I don't like it when you make spaghetti. I want Daddy to make it."

Scully's smile disappeared and she shook her head.

"Daddy's not going to be home for awhile, Grace. He's got a little extra
work."

In reality, Scully had no idea where Mulder was. He had run off with a
lead, kissing her quickly with a look asking for forgiveness. But it was
something Mulder had to do, something that kept him from falling into the
problems of before.

Reigning him in, keeping his mind tethered to the simple things of family
and office had been a mistake, she knew that. They had talked, they had
argued, but things had resolved with the knowledge that Mulder needed his
escapades once in a while, needed to run off and uncover new truths.

So, she smiled to their daughter, made Grace's favorite food for dinner,
and tried to brush away the fear coursing through her.

He had promised not to take any risks, but she knew him, knew the way his
mind worked.

"Why does Daddy have to work?"

Scully looked back down to her daughter, then sighed.

"Daddy has some important things to take care of, you know, baby?"

"But I want Daddy to make me s'getti."

Scully sat down on the floor, taking Grace's hands in hers with a forced
smile, trying to ignore the leftover hurt of her little girl's words.

"Mommy. . ."

She raised an eyebrow in silent question, head tilted to see Grace's eyes.

"Mommy. . .you're bleeding."

Scully felt it trickle just as Grace said the words, and by a long-buried
reflex, she raised her hands to her nose.

It was rich and red, bright and dark all at once.

"Mommy?"

Grace eyes were wide, confused and frightened, trying to pull her hand
from her mother's.

Scully rose quickly, her panic slipping into her like quicksilver, and ran
to the bathroom, pushing away the tug of the past.

Grace followed her, watching her with rounded eyes as she grabbed a
Kleenex, blocking the flow of blood from its origin.

"Mommy?"

Scully didn't even hear her, so blind was her panic, so completely
enveloping was her memory of a hospital bed and a death coming swiftly for
her.

Grace yanked hard on her shirt, peering over the counter and into the
bathroom mirror, her face ready to cry.

Scully pulled away the tissue, saw the blood had stopped, felt suddenly
sick.

"Grace. . ."

The little girl gave her half a smile. "Just a bloody nose, Mommy. It's
okay. I had a bloody nose, remember, Mommy? It's okay."

Scully gave her a tight smile, then pushed her towards the kitchen.

"Right, Grace."

"We'll tell Daddy when he gets home and it he'll make it all better."

Scully froze, the sudden image of Mulder standing before her, eyes so very
anguished, so very hurting, that she grabbed Grace harder than she meant.

"Ouch."

"Grace, we don't need Daddy to make it all better. I'm just fine. Okay
Grace?"

"Why can't we tell Daddy?"

The little girl saw right through Scully's attempt to play down the event,
her eyes narrowed.

"Well, baby. . .This needs to be just between us, all right? Daddy gets
upset whenever us girls get hurt, you know? Remember how sad Daddy was
when you got sick, baby?"

Grace nodded and fingered her mother's hair, pushing it aside and then
pulling it back down.

"I see. . ." she said softly.

Scully smiled brightly, then softly sighed.

"Baby. . .I just don't want Daddy to worry too much about me."

Grace nodded and looked into her eyes. "So. . .it's all okay. You're okay,
right, Mommy?"

"Just fine, baby. I'm just fine."

It sounded hollow even to Grace.
~~~~

She was up again, and somewhere in his sleep, he felt her rise, felt the
bed quiver as she pushed the covers back over him to keep in the warmth.

With a light finger, she smoothed his forehead then kissed it, then went
to the bathroom.

The nightlight was flickering and she moved in close to the mirror, then
sighed.

Grabbing a tissue, she dabbed at her nose, soaking up the blood trickling
down her lip. It was getting to be a rgeular thing, in a sort of random
frightening way.

Her heart flipped and her fingers tightened around the sink, fear settling
deep in her stomach like ice. It creeped through her veins and made her
palms clammy and slick.

It couldn't be coming back. . .not now. Not when she had so much in this
life, not when she had a little girl and a husband and a home.

Rubbing a hand over her face, she sank down to the floor, eyes closing in
overwhelming anguish.

Not again, not again.
~~~~

The doctor was nice, his smile soft and innocent, like he was almost
afraid to be too direct with her.

She watched him work, pushing away her own clinical knowledge, trying to
forget the reasons why she was here.

He gave her a physical first, touching her throat to feel if her glands
were swollen, manipulating her limbs, probing her stomach gently.ore the
deafening thunder of her own thriving fear, the way it snaked into her
heart.

Dr. Shrap nodded softly to her and moved away, calling in a nurse to draw
her blood, and trying to reassure her tight face with a pat on the knee.

When everything was done, when all she had to do was gather her clothes,
and put them on slowly, trying to figure out how she would come home, go
to Mulder, tell him what was going on.

She couldn't tell him.

She remembered his face that time before, the way he'd panicked and
flustered, the way he had literally been too deep in grief to find a way
out.

She couldn't tell him until she was sure. 

What if it wasn't the cancer? What if it was just a fluke?

She swallowed heavily and paid the office with cash.
~~~~

Shrap was smiling, a full force smile that was tempered only by a hesitant
flicker in his eyes.

She gave him an almost smile back, still heavy with a week of waiting, of
fending off bloody noses and Mulder's curiosity.

It hadn't been better, this deep seeded ache that came with the certain
knowledge that she was going to die this time, that the cancer would
finally do its job.

She wished, for a brief selfish instant, that she had Mulder there,
holding her hand, smoothing her worries with a whisper of laughter.

But she faced the man alone, would face whatever news he had for her with
the dignity and strength that she posessed.

An image of Grace swam before her, and she closed her eyes briefly to
master the tears that wanted to slide down her cheeks.

"Dana?" came the doctor's soft voice.

She opened her eyes and nodded.

"I want to show you this," he said, and held up the X-rays.
~~~~

When she began travelling back home, the rain poured down on her like
God's own tears, grieving and mourning for her.

She kept her face a calm mask of professionalism, knowing that when she
got to the house, she'd have to confront the news.
 
Her hands were shaking as she turned into their driveway, noting with some
awe that the skies had dammed up, that the angry black clouds framing
their house did not offer the summer thunderstorms.

She thought it a good omen, better than the rain washing away her own
tears.

Stepping carefully into the house, she called out for Mulder, wanting to
see his face, feel his arms, touch him, while the doctor's words sat heavy
inside her.

She had spent the entire day there, from eight thirty that morning until a
little after three, going over X-rays and scans and other tests,
confirming and organizing, and scheduling more appointments, finding her a
special doctor to treat her.

She was afraid; she was shaking so hard that her keys rattled in her hand.

Mulder didn't appear, and she saw his small scrawl on a note propped on
the table in the foyer, saying he had gone with Grace to get her some new
shoes, since her sneakers were pinching her toes already.

She smiled, feeling that rush of strange familiarity as she thought of
normal things, of tying her daughter's shoes, kissing Mulder before they
left for work, making lunch, and sleeping in late on Saturday.

All those things were her small life now, composed up the intimate moments
that made her family so precious, so much a part of her.

And now, this would seep into every crack, taint every shoe-tying, every
Mulder-kiss, every lunch-made, and every Saturday-sleep.

She dropped her purse to the floor and wandered aimlessly into the
kitchen, pressing her stomach to the cool metal of the counter, running
her hands along the sink edge, closing her eyes.

She'd had this ache before, knew its power over her life, over both of
them.

She remembered the hospital, the fear, the thought that every day could be
the last.

The knowledge that she'd never get another chance.

Scully dropped her head in her hands and choked on a sob, trying to hold
it back, but not succeeding.

It was then that the sky became furious with lightning, flashing from one
cloud to the other, streaking the earth with its power.

She let herself cry, wishing for Mulder.
~~~~

~~~~

"You got to know when to hold them,
know when to fold them,
know when to walk away,
and know when to run.
You never count your money
when you're sitting at the table.
There'll be time enough for counting
when the dealing's done."
--"The Gambler" Kenny Rogers

~~~~

They were laughing as they came in, Grace bouncing around on the
sidewalk like a rabbit, her hair whiplashed in the sudden summer storm.

Mulder turned her around to watch the lightning flicker through the
clouds, and she stopped talking to gaze at in awe.

The house was dark as he backed into the door, tripping over the
umbrella Scully had left out for them before they'd left.

"Hey Scully!"

He was smiling, watching the way the storm seemed ready to lash at the
trees, at the sky, at the earth, all for the fury and the power building
and building in it.

He'd felt that way before.

Grace moved out of his reach and skipped back down the sidewalk to the
yard, ignoring his warnings and watching the sky.

"Gracie, right now!" he yelled, trying to make his voice heard over the
thunder.

She turned her head and glanced back at him, at the forest green
shutters on their house, the beige paint and solid brick.

He was angry, like the storm, but it wasn't something she wanted to stir
up with him.

So she ran back.

He grabbed her shoulder, squeezing, maybe a bit too hard, and she
shrivelled, pouting at him.

"Grace. You're not a baby. Stand up."

She huffed at him and stood, perfectly fine, her flair for drama
igniting at the worst times.

"Scully! Come look at the lightning!" he called again, leaving the door
open as Grace backed inside.

"Can I look at it from my room?"

Mulder nodded, waiting for Scully to show up behind him, that soft touch
that could make him more excited than any simple summer storm.

He breathed in the air, the scent of something otherworldly burning,
which Scully always told him was ozone.

Ozone.

It smelled like souls on fire. Like hell come to rage across mankind.

He shivered and shut the door, mind darkened by his thoughts.

Suddenly, he didn't want to watch the storm.

"Scully?"

He walked through the foyer, his boots making hollow echoes as they
touched the bare floor.

"In here," he heard, faintly, and turned toward the kitchen, thinking
she must be watching it from the window over the sink.

Moving to his right, he saw her framed in candlelight, preparation for
the eventual blackout their neighborhood *always* had when it stormed.

"Hey," he whispered and slipped up behind her, encircling her with his
arms.

A soft kiss to her head made her settle against him, then he heard her
sigh.

The lightning was flaring up in every corner of the sky, illuminating
grey green clouds and black black sky.

"Wow, it turned really dark all of the sudden."

She nodded and then wrapped her hands along his arms.

"Jeez, Scully. Your fingers are freezing."

She turned in his arms and he looked down to catch a glimpse of a smile
he knew would be there, but instead, she'd been crying.

"Scully?"

She buried her head in his chest and stood there, making a concerted
effort just to breathe, and when her eyes came up to meet his, he saw a
kind of diluted joy emblazoned there.

"Mulder. . .I'm pregnant."

The storm cracked through the sky and lightning blazed along her
cheekbones, momentarily outdoing the candlelight.

"Do what?" he said, stiff, bewildered.

"What else? Mulder. . ."

"But. . ."

"Mulder. . ."

"But. . ."

"Mulder!" she said, taking his arms in her hands with a firm grip.

He laughed.

She shook her head. "I laughed too. But it's true."

"This is great! This is amazing! I thought it wasn't possible. They said
there was no chance. . .and. . .why are you looking at me like that?"

He stopped, watching her intently, his burst of delight halted by the
sheen of tears in her eyes.

"They don't think it will reach full term."

He trembled, felt his knees give way and land hard on the kitchen floor,
too weak to breathe.

She kneeled along side him, face still remote, on the verge of tears,
hands reaching for him but not knowing how to help, where to help.

He pressed his palms into his eyes, gasped in breaths as shooting stars
raced lightning across his lids.

Then he pulled her into him, one soft sob rushing out as his hands
touched her waist.

"Why?" he asked, not sure who the question was directed to. . .her or
God or the doctors who'd said such a thing.

"It's not meant to be. . ." she whispered.

He pulled back violently, eyes flashing. "Don't *say* that. Don't you
dare say that."

She looked away. "You told me that once. . .with Emily."

"God. . .Oh God. . .Emily was . . . was. . .different."

"How? How is that different?"

"Emily began as a test, Scully. She entered into this life as a pawn.
This baby is *ours* and I'm not going to give up on it. I'm *not*."

She leaned her head against the cabinets beneath the sink, eyes closing
as she struggled to breathe. It seemed her chest was too tight, her
lungs too small, her every breath blocked by something powerful and
clenching.

"There's nothing we can do, Mulder. Nothing. It's too early to tell for
sure, but he said that it's showing signs of fetal deformity. . .'errors
in the growth of developmental change'."

He rubbed a hand over his face, eyes likes ghosts haunting a cemetery.

"What else?" he whispered.

"The. . .baby's behind schedule for development. . .losing time. . .he
said that in all likelihood, I'll spontaneously abort."

"What!"

She shook her head. "That means my body will recognize the problems and
refuse to support it."

He collapsed into her, arms crushing her tightly to him, mind helplessly
seeking some kind of good news, something to turn this around.

"How'd this happen?" she said softly. "How did this ever happen? If only
to die. . ."

"Hope, Scully. If you can even conceive. . .oh God. . ."

She shuddered. "I don't want to do this again, Mulder. I don't want to
hurt like that again. I don't want that ache in me so terrible and so
awful that it swallows up everything good I have."

"It's already here. . ." he said and felt his own tears slip down his
cheeks.

"Promise me, Mulder. . .Promise."

"What? Anything."

She closed her eyes. "Stay right here. . .please, please, stay right
here."

He went still, lifeless, felt as if someone had sucked everything from
him in one ripping breath.

She was afraid he'd do it again.

He'd leave her like that, he'd be unfaithful like that after everything
they'd gone through, all the tears and hurt and promises.

She opened her eyes, saw that she'd hurt him.

She pulled back. "I'm sorry. . .Sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"No. . .no. Only fair."

He reached for her again, let her hesitance fall away, her shame and
sorrow peeling like layers of skin.

"I promise. Scully, I *promise*."

She nodded, smiled once, but it lost energy and ended up turning into a
fight not to cry.

"Now. . .let's get off the floor and try to figure out what's going on."

He stood, picked her up with a gentle hand, then kissed her nose, just
as he did for Grace when she was hurting.

But her eyes didn't spark, and her movements were slow, grief stricken.

Remembering everything they'd been through before Grace, recalling all
that raw pain that had just festered and grown and gorged on them, he
understood her fear.

God, don't let it happen all over again.
~~~~

Dr. Shrap had referred her to a neonatalogist named Dr. Bellcamp, and the
man was just as soft and mouse-like as her first doctor. His hair was a
dark black and his nose was long and Roman, eyes wise.

She  liked him immdediately, and his voice was so deep and resonating that
she felt like she could feel it all the way to her toes.

Dr. Bellcamp wanted to do an amniocentesis, an invasive procedure using a
needle and ultrasound that drew a sample of the fetal cells and sent them
to a lab for chromosomal analysis.

She hadn't had that done yet, and it would be scheduled for later in the
pregnancy, at about 16 weeks, if she made it that long.

Right now, they were preparing for a chorionic villus sampling, which did
not take cells straight from the baby, but from the villus in the
surrounding womb. Both procedures had a slight risk of causing
termination, but with the threat of death hanging over the baby anyway,
they deemed it a necessary evil.

Mulder was holding her hand while they set up the room, his eyes wide at
the needle they'd put in her and his breath coming fast.

"You're much braver than I, Scully," he said softly and kissed her mouth.

She smiled at him and rubbed her hand along her stomach, then looked to
the nurses and doctors setting up.

"It's not so much bravery, as fear," she said back and watched his eyes
darken.

"I'm afraid too," he said and hung his head. "What if this baby. . .I
mean, it's ours. Without all that help we had before. . .without any of
it. What if this baby can't make it?"

Scully ran a hand through her hair and then pushed back his bangs, giving
him a smile she did not feel.

"We're going to have to get through this, Mulder, whatever happens. And I
need you. . .I need you to help me, Mulder."

His face softened and he leaned in to kiss her, letting his lips drift
along her cheek, down to the spot under her jaw that always made her
squirm.

"All right," said Dr. Bellcamp. "Let's get started."
~~~~

She closed her eyes and felt sleep slowing falling over her.

Her hand reached out blindly, seeking for Mulder's, but found only empty
air and a fear slicing through her body.

She felt pain in her stomach, like razors pressing hard into her skin and
breaking through. She writhed on the bed, eyes opening in pain.

It was dark.

She was breathing hard.

Mulder was shaking her shoulders.

She shivered. 

"Bad dream," she said in between gasps.

He rubbed her back as she turned over, then closed her eyes again, trying
to keep her breath inside her lungs long enough to do some good.

"It'll be okay, Scully. No matter what that tests said. . .we're going to
be okay."

She gave him such a look of desperation, her eyes pleading with him for
hope, that it knocked him back, and he felt sick.

"I don't know how to get past this, Mulder. When the time comes. . .how am
I going to let this baby go?"

He buried his nose into her neck and sighed. "I don't know. . .I just
don't know."

She reached out for his embrace, moving into the soft warmth of his arms
and body, letting her eyes drift shut again.

"Mulder. " she whispered.

He murmured something against her ear.

"Mulder, don't let me pull away from you."

He shuddered. "I won't. I won't."

"I don't know how we're going to make it. . ."

His hand came to her mouth and stilled her lips and tongue.

"Stop thinking. Just sleep for now."

She nodded and let his even breathing pull her into dreams.
~~~~
~~~~

"Put the past away. . ."
--"Jumper" Third Eye Blind

~~~~

There'd been some raised eyebrows, but they managed to both get that
next Tuesday off for a doctor's appointment, enduring another one of
Kersh's monthly talking to's that warned them about persuing cases
outside the Bureau mainstream.

As if they hadn't been doing that for six years already.

He could tell she was nervous about the doctor, because her hands shook
as she made Grace's lunch for school, and then she couldn't seem to sit
down and eat breakfast with them.

Mulder checked his daughter's backpack, making sure she'd gotten all of
her homework, and the small blue blanket for naptime, then gave her a
kiss.

Grace jumped from his fiddling hands as soon as she saw the bus and
waved good bye while Scully came to stand beside him.

Her face was dejected.

"You okay?" he asked, thinking she was upset over the baby.

She shook her head and brushed him off, her concerns largely about
Grace's flippant disregard for her. She couldn't seem to bear to think
about anything else right then.

"Fine. Let's get going," she muttered.

He watched her for a moment, felt that same sense of dread welling in
him, that same feeling he'd had so many times before, when they went to
the doctor, when they had tried and tried and tried.

But he shoved it down and pulled his grey T-shirt off, throwing it in
the hamper in favor of a cotton collared shirt in a dark-black blue.

She moved past him and touched his side, pulling on her soft leather
jacket since it was a bit chilly outside due to the storm.

He grabbed a part of the black leather and hooked his arm around her
waist.

"We're going to be just fine, Scully."

She wanted to smile, wanted to close her eyes and believe it, but she
merely nodded morosely and prayed he was right.

Oh, God, let him be right.
~~~~

Muler sat back in a wash of medical terms that flowed right through him
and never made any impression. He felt like he was drowning in the new
language, casting about for any kind of life raft, just one word that
made some kind of sense, that told him something about what was going
on.

Scully was nodding, face grim and greyed, one hand tightly clutching his
as the doctor sat there, still explaining.

He just stayed still, hoping for the best.

There were words like 'chromosomes', and he understood them, and
'placenta', and he got that, and then 'factors' and something about
genetic counseling, which did not sound good at all.

When the man left to perform some other test, Scully turned to him, her
eyes seemingly hollow.

"Did you catch any of that?" she said softly.

He shrugged and shook his head.

"There's a lot of things they're going to be looking for in the next
diagnostic, the amniocentesis. Already he suspects Trisomy 18, says
there's a chance for some severe heart disorders. . .among other things."

He blanked and raised a brow, clearly lost. "Trisomy?"

"Uh. . .that's where there's an extra chromosome at pair 18-"

"Down's Syndrome!"

She shook her head, closing her eyes. "I wish. No. . .this is a bit
worse. Same kinds of . . .of abnormalities. . ."

She shivered violently, then buried her head in her hands.

"More severe. . .it's more severe."

He licked his lips then sighed, pushing her head back to meet his eyes.

"But. . .but still. Could it survive?"

She frowned, lips twisting, brow so wrinkled with grief that he wished
he could smooth those lines with the gentle touch of his hands.

"Survive? I don't know. . .I don't know."

He reached for her hands and kissed them softly, trying not to think too
hard.

"Did he explain how this happened?"

She looked at him, her eyes frantic for humor, for a lighter mood.

"Sex, Mulder. I thought it best to explain it to you at home, instead of
the doctor here."

He gave her a grin, appreciating the attempt to lighten things.

"You sure about that, Scully? You know the doctors here have those neat
real life models. . ."

"Who needs a model?"

He chuckled and kissed her nose, glad to see the light back in her eyes,
the way she seemed able to breathe without a sob catching in her throat.

"He said that maybe with all the drugs they pumped me with earlier,
trying to make the others work, making Grace work. . .maybe that caused
some kind of regeneration. . ."

His eyebrow shot up.

"Like when you cut a worm in half and you get two different worms?"

She poked him. "No. . .well, yes. In a way, actually. As if all those
hormones and proteins and everything stimulated it to regrow."

He grinned. "So. . .that means you. . .we could try again?"

Scully's face went into shadows and he wished he had not asked.

"If. . .do you want to, Mulder?"

He sat back, thinking over her words, the implications of having that
chance again.

"Maybe. . .maybe not. I don't know. . .is it worth all that again?"

She traced his knuckles with a shaky finger.

"And. . .and, Mulder. If I do have the ability again, it may not
necessarily be mature. . .do you understand that?"

He frowned. "Like. . .maybe all those chromosomes aren't there in your
eggs?"

She smiled slightly. "Ah, you're smarter than I thought."

"Ha. So that could be why there's problems with this pregnancy, then
too. Right?"

"Right. My fault. . ." she whispered.

He winced and closed his eyes. "That's not what I meant."

"It's true though. I could be just making eggs with half the needed
genetic material and-"

He placed a finger to her lips. "I don't care, Scully. I don't care.
We'll see this through, better or worse, then we can talk about whether
or not we want to try again. All right?"

Her eyes filled with tears again and she shook her head, sniffling.

"That's just it, Mulder. We may not be able to see this through."

"Well, I know. You said they thought it wouldn't reach full-"

"No," she whispered, closing her eyes. "If it's bad enough. . .they're
going to reccomend an abortion."

He gaped at her, furious in an instant, then broken.

"Why?"

She shook her head.

"Why, Scully? Why an abortion? What's going on?"

"There's a possibility that if my body tries to do it naturally, I could
bleed to death. . .I could. . .not. . ."

He was going to throw up.

The room spun crazily and he clutched her hands, his breath like labor
pants, his legs milky and unable to keep him up.

"No no no no no," he murmured.

She grabbed his face with her hands and tightly shut her eyes, then
opened to see his look, this utter grief ravaging through him. His
forehead came to hers, pressing their skin together in a rush of sorrow
fueled heat.

"I can't lose you, Scully. I can't lose you."

She took a deep breath, felt the earth shaking like the waves of
determination in her heart.

"And I can't kill this baby, Mulder."

He was dead still, frozen to the core.

There was a breath between them.

A trembling in her hands.

A shaky sob in his throat.

He pulled back, released her hands for a moment, staring like she'd told
him . . .like she'd told him she would die.

It was the same panic look:  from the bomb in the federal building, from
her news that she had cancer, from the blood one night signalling the
end of her chances.

She stayed absolutely still, knowing that he had to deal with her
decision, had to realize the true extent of her words.

He sank back into the chair, rubbing a tired hand over his mouth.

He glanced to her, the anguished look in her eyes.

"You knew this before we came."

His words were soft, final, but not accusing, not angry, merely sad.

She nodded. "I knew."

"You didn't. . .didn't ask me."

She shook her head again, biting her bottom lip. "I couldn't even. .
.even think about it."

"So. . .this is it? We do everything to deliver this baby and then. .
.then if your body rejects it. . .I wait for you to die?"

His face crumpled, his words were low and gravelly, his overwhelming
grief raging through his entire speech.

She shook her head. "It could all be okay, Mulder. Even if we lose the
baby, I'll probably be fine. There's only a small chance, Mulder. .
.has to do with how far along I am and the size. . ."

He reached forward, took her hand slowly, his brows knitted together,
mouth working as if he wanted to say something.

Finally, he looked up at her.

"I promised. . .I promised. I'm staying right here."

She let out a long breath, not even aware that she'd been holding it,
then leaned forward, hugging him tightly.

"Thank you Mulder. . .thank you. You'll see. I'll be fine. We'll be
okay."
~~~~

She was reading everything she could on Trisomy 18, and on birth defects
of a baby's heart. The library didn't have very much that satisfied her,
and she kept having to puzzle through new medical terms that she hadn't
kept entirely up to date on.

They had a lot of advances in the research of why sometimes this happened,
why babies could have extra chromosomes when the cells divided, why
sometimes their hearts didn't close up, or their brains didn't develop all
the way.

They still had no clear answer, nothing but chance and happenstance, and
she wasn't prepared to face that. She didn't want to think that it was
just a random occurence, something unplanned and unwanted.

God had to have a reason for this, she had to firmly keep her trust in
this one hope, that this was all for a better reason.

Yet, that too, seemed unfair, seemed so pithy and unemotional. She'd had
one miscarriage already, that late night waking to blood, the way her
entire being felt lost and remote, that she would never wake from the
nightmare.

Pregnant with Grace, the baby showing signs of strength, kicking her at
night and moving around in the daytime, Scully felt those same feelings
well in her as fear, as the blinding thought that this one too could die.

Grace was healthy, although tiny, with five fingers on each hand, five
toes on each foot, her mouth pouty and red, her eyes bright and turning
grey and blue all at once.

Sitting at the computer now, trying to find information online, looking at
the pictures of the babies with Down's Syndrome and other disorders,
Scully thanked God that Grace had been so perfect, despite their rocky
relationship.

Grace was whole.

She smiled at them when she was happy, and she played Go Fish with Mulder
in the dining room; she sang to the songs she liked and even made up dance
moves to the better ones. She threw tantrums and flushed Mulder's fish
down the toilet when it died; she went to kindergarten and had the little
boys chasing her on the palyground.

Her eyes showed her soul, and in that gaze was the complexity of a smart,
beautiful woman, still growing up.

Scully shivered and pushed away from the computer, seeking out her family.

Mulder was reading some case files in the bedroom, and after placing a
kiss on his forhead and receiving an absent-minded grin, she moved on to
the living room, knowing that it was Grace's favorite place to be.

She found her playing loudly with her Barbies and GI Joes that Mulder had
given her for Christmas. The GI Joes were winning.

Scully sat down on the floor with her, smiling, her mind showing her
images of Grace as a baby, mouth yawning and little pink tongue smoothing.

Grace looked up with a smile and shot a grenade launcher at her, giggling
when it bounced off her mother's forehead.

"Nice shot, Grace." Scully picked up the little grenade and gave it back,
amused that her daughter could have such a happy harmony of Barbie and GI
Joe.

"Daddy's been showing me how to aim," Grace said and reloaded the little
plastic toy, then shoved it back into the GI Joe's hand, setting him
leaning against the couch.

"*Wonderful*." Scully raised and eyebrow and watched her quietly for a
while, wanting to reach out and pull her daughter to her lap, cuddle her
for a few minutes, remind herself of all the good.

Grace shot the grenade at the fireplace and then made her little GI Joe
hang by his hand from the screen, making noises as if the man were calling
for help. Barbie came up and began the rescue operation, her doctor's coat
a dingy white from the soot around the fireplace.

Scully moved closer to her and touched her shoulder.

"Can I play?" she said softly.

Grace's eyebrows met and she glanced to her mother's eyes, confused a bit.

"Oh. You can be the guy's brother. Here he is. He's a bad guy, though
Mommy. A Cobra. See, he's got this gun right here, and this cool backpack
that sticks into this hole. All right?"

Scully smiled and nodded, picking up the GI Joe with the evil look on his
face and funny looking outfit.

Grace looked at her Barbie's, then picked out one with a black skirt and
suit jacket on, it's red hair bright and shiny plastic.

"You can have my favorite. Her name's . . .uh, Daphney."

Grace gave her the doll with solemnity, placing the doll in her hands with
a sense of resignation.

Scully felt honored immensely, the doll gently in her fingers, its clothes
perfect and hair neatly pulled back into a pony tail.

"Thank you baby."

Grace nodded and Scully quickly reached out and snagged her into a hug,
closing her eyes to keep from crying.

"You're such a beautiful spirit, Gracie."
~~~~

Only as she was talking to Mulder later, explaining what had happened, how
they had come to play in the living room floor for three hours, their own
private games going on in their head, conversation consisting mainly of
short emergencies, did Scully truly appreciate what Grace had done.

Mulder smiled at her and kissed her softly, rubbing one hand along her
belly, just as he had when she'd been pregnant with Grace.

"I know what Barbie that is. She takes it with her everywhere. And, you
know what, Scully?"

She glanced to him, relaxed with his fingertips brushing her skin.

"That Barbie looks so much like you, it's scary."

Scully's mouth dropped open and she thought back.

"Suit on, red hair, and it's her favorite," he continued.

The room faded for a moment, and all Scully could feel was his hand
anchoring her to reality with its slight pressure.

"Her favorite?"

He nodded and she smiled, warmth spreading through her.
~~~~
~~~~

"No matter how they toss the dice
It had to be -
The only one for me is you
and You for me,
So happy together.
I can't see me loving nobody but you
For all my life.
When you're with me, baby, the skies will be blue
For all my life."
--"Happy Together", The Turtles

~~~~

"We made pictures, Daddy! Look."

Mulder plastered a smile across his face and took the stiff piece of
butcher paper from his daughter, noting the heavy black paint and
patches of green dotting the edges.

"Good job, baby."

Grace looked up at him, her brow wrinkled.

"Aren't you going to ask what it is?"

"Okay, what is it?"

She grinned and shrugged. "I don't know. My teacher asked and I told her
it was an abstract. She seemed impressed."

Mulder laughed, her impish look reminding him a lot of himself,
attempting to fool the teachers and impress the class.

"So, you just picked up some black and-"

"No, Daddy. That's purple. It accidentally got mixed in with my brown
and then the red, and then the green, so it looks kind of like a blob."

He picked her up, pushing himself off the couch and heading in to his
own bedroom, looking for Scully.

"Let's show Mommy."

Grace made a face but let herself be carried into the master bathroom.

Scully was washing her hands, and her face brightened as they came
nearer.

"Hey, Grace. How was school, hon?"

Grace shrugged and held up her picture.

"I made a painting."

Scully dried her hands on a towel and took it from her, concentrating.
Then her eyes raised and she shrugged.

"So, tell me about it, Grace."

Grace's grin was enormous as she explained the story, making Scully's
soul quiet.

When she was done, Scully leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"Mm, my baby's smarter than the teachers."

Grace laughed and reached for her mother, but Mulder pulled her back,
concerned that Scully shouldn't be lifting any five year olds.

Scully's face dropped and she headed into the kitchen, talking about
dinner and preparations, ignoring the tiny growing discontent within
her.
~~~~

Mulder came back into the bedroom, watching her brush her teeth for a
moment, then sat down on the bed.

"Scully?"

She turned, smiling through the toothpaste, then leaned over the sink to
spit, cupping her hand to rinse her mouth with water.

Mulder rubbed his hands on his jeans, then sighed heavily, burdened with
the knowledge of everything that was to come.

Scully came to sit next to him, both silent and weary.

"I didn't want you to get hurt," he said softly.

She let her breath out in an explosion of frustration.

"I can't hurt anything by picking up Grace!"

Mulder closed his eyes. "Okay. . .okay. I. . .Tell me what's wrong,
what's right, Scully."

She shivered. "I don't even know. Mulder. . .I mean, I'll have to watch
my diet, and take vitamins, and generally try to keep myself safe. .
.but there's nothing else I can do. . .I'm helpless. . ."

He didn't touch her, knowing this was her own personal battle, the will
for control over her life, the need to have some say in the matter.

"This isn't even anything that I . . .caused. I mean, I don't smoke or
drink or do drugs. . .so it's not like it's really even my fault. . .but
I. . .I feel like there's something that I should have done. Something I
need to do."

The room seemed dark, even with the eight o'clock sun still fading in
the west, and the shadows lept from the desk to the floor, then crept
across the bed.

"Scully. . .you're right. There's nothing we can do. Just hope."

"Pray," she murmured.

He frowned but let it go.

"I want this to work, Scully. I want the baby to be healthy, above all.
Even if this baby is . . .is handicapped. That's okay. We can deal with
that."

She closed her eyes tightly and leaned into his shoulder, shuddering.

"I don't want to cry anymore," she said, trying to laugh.

He put his arm around her, letting them sit there in silence to
recapture the uneasy peace of before.

"What do we tell Grace?" she said softly.

He shrugged. "I . . . I don't know. I mean, I don't like keeping the
truth from her. We told her about how she was born, she knows
everything, even if it might not make sense."

Scully smiled. "She asks for the story about her miracle almost every
week."

Mulder was surprised. "She does?"

"When I put her to bed, she does."

He sighed. "I didn't know."

"She likes hearing stories about you, Mulder."

He felt a bit embarassed, but proud too, glad his daughter liked him.

Scully glanced into his eyes, reading his surprise. "Mulder, that girl
adores you more than anything. . .anything."

He smiled and glanced down to her. "Well, she's got one hell of a mother
too."

<I wish *Grace* thought that. . .>

Scully shook her head of thoughts and stood up again.

"I'm going to bed early tonight Mulder. I feel a little tired."

He nodded and reached out to snag her waist, his thumbs rubbing lazy
circles along her skin.

"One day at a time, Scully. We'll just deal with this one day at a
time."

She smiled gratefully at him, again marvelling at how well he could read
her when he wanted to.

"I'm going to be around. Maybe get on the computer for a while, eat
something."

She nodded and leaned down to kiss him softly.

"Thanks, Mulder."

He smiled briefly into her kiss, then pushed forward and smoothed his
lips along her stomach.

"Good night baby," he whispered.
~~~~

It was dark, the clouds obscuring any summer moon that might have risen,
and the light from the living room was a long way off.

She curled around her stomach, pulling the warm blankets tighter around
her body, needing to feel that she was somehow protecting the baby.

She felt like she was waiting on the edge of the sheerest cliff in the
world, one foot already slipping down, her balance just about to falter.

She knew what it felt like, she still felt it, every now and then, when
Mulder and Grace seemed very far away, when the frustration and failures
seemed to pile up. It was that ache, that overwhelming emptiness so deep
and so dark that not even Mulder could lead her out.

He knew it was coming too.

She could tell by the way he was so close, so sensitive and worried. She
was rapidly getting sick of his touchy hovering manner, and her own
indeterminable waiting.

She felt guilty for being so removed from the baby, for trying to hold
herself apart from the excitement and nervousness of having a baby. She
wanted to feel that thrill, to have again that unbridled joy, but the
knowledge of what might come, of death and sorrow, kept her firmly
entrenched in her solitude.

Mulder was getting antsy, she could tell, getting frustrated with her
closed off manner and her detatched words. He wanted to rejoice, he
wanted to feel every bit of this.

She just couldn't do that again. She just couldn't.

She whimpered, burying her head in the pillow, curling her hands around
her still flat stomach, breathing in a rush.

She had Grace. . .that was enough. . .Oh God, please. Grace is enough. I
don't want this.

God, I don't know how to do this again.

I don't want this hollow nothing that always creeps in.

She closed her eyes, felt the tears slipping down her cheeks, staining
her pillow.

She didn't want the baby to die. . .

but if she went full term, if the baby was born. . .how could she stop
from loving it?

And then. . .for it to die then. . .oh God. . .for it to die. . .

Please, please. . . .

But she didn't even know what she needed to pray.
~~~~

It was a lot later than he meant to be up.

He glanced at the glowing green of the microwave and the numbers blurred
and fuzzed as he passed, but he realized that it was already one in the
morning.

He slid carefully into the bedroom, then began pulling his jeans off,
trying to keep quiet so he wouldn't wake Scully.

He'd been reading about chromosomal deficiencies online, journals about
research and the causes, and even some personal accounts from parents of
children with Down's Syndrome.

All of them talked as if it was a battle, but one well worth it. The
kids were described as being friendly and loving, loyal and truly kind,
having a wide range of abilities and personalities. They were children.
. .but, children forever.

He pulled down the sheets, then sat on the edge of the bed, thinking
over the things he'd learned, recalling how every single parent praised
God for the joy in their lives.

God.

It was an odd, untouched part of his life, this half belief.

He supposed that if anyone would make him want to believe in God, it was
Scully.

After the things he'd done, she had forgiven him and taken him back and
they were getting there, they were working on it. They were *together*
again, and that was more than most could say.

He also supposed that now, if anything could *show* him God, it would be
this baby, even the chance of having him.

Or her.

He smiled and laid down, turning to watch Scully sleep all curled up on
the very far edge of the bed. She always slept like that, almost like a
little baby, rolled up into a ball and breathing softly, in and out.

He touched her side, ran his fingers along her skin.

She relaxed out into his hand, an automatic reflex he had discovered a
few years ago. When his thumb brushed her breast, she hummed and turned,
letting him move in close to her.

Smiling, he kissed her neck, letting her dreams capture the feeling.

He brushed his hand along her stomach, thinking about the pictures of
the kids with Down's, their slightly slanted eyes, turned in noses, and
cute grins. They were happy, completely and utterly, and would be for
the rest of their life. . .however long that was.

But, Scully had said the doctors were looking for Trisomy 18, which was
a worse case than Down's, and while chances of survival were less, there
was still the chance of a few days after birth. 

A few days.

He sat up for a moment, making Scully shiver in her sleep until he
pulled the blanket around her shoulders.

He softened his hand along her belly, imagining he could feel the tiny
heartbeat, even though it was still in the first weeks, still only
dividing cells.

That thought stilled him for a moment.

Still dividing cells, and yet. . .it was a life, a baby there.

He bent forward and kissed her stomach, eyelashes brushing her skin as
his eyes closed. Her muscles twitched and he felt her hands go to his
hair.

"Mulder?" she said softly.

"Hm," he murmured, and looked up at her, then laid back down next to
her.

"Just get in bed?" she said, her eyes sliding shut again.

He nodded and traced her eyes with a finger, knowing it put her to
sleep.

"Scully?"

She opened her eyes again, ready to listen.

"I. . .Pray for the baby?"

At the surprise and caution flickering across her face, he ducked his
head.

"I. . .It's all we can do, right? And I don't think it'd be too right
for me to pray. . .I kind of turned my back on God."

Scully reached down and brushed his hair from his eyes.

"But, Mulder. God didn't turn his back on you. . ."

He stayed silent, watching her for a long moment.

"I will, though. . .I don't know what to pray for. . .but I'll trust God."

He frowned. "I don't know if I can do that. . .but tell Him I'll try."

She smiled and bent down to kiss him.

"You're a wonderful man, Fox Mulder."

He grinned. "I try."

He laid back down alongside her, tucking her into his embrace and
pulling the sheets back around them tightly.

"Where'd the sudden interest in faith come from?"

He mumbled something she didn't catch then sighed.

"What?"

He looked up from the pillow, eyes smiling. "Your persistent faith in
God is something of an X-File, Scully. . .I can't help my inquisitive
nature."

She poked him and closed her eyes.

"Get some sleep, Mulder. Rest that nature of yours."

"Yes, ma'am."

The darkness and silence crept in quickly and covered them in a blanket
of reassurance.

For the first time, she felt a little more hope.
~~~~

The sky was still dark when she woke, and the first panicked thought she
had was <this is it>.

But there was no blood, no sickening feel of life dying between her legs.

She took in a deep breath and listened for sounds of night, trying to
figure out why she was awake.

Softly, she heard the crying, the muted noises of fear and pain.

She glanced first to Mulder, but he was asleep, his face buried in her
shoulder and breath tickling her ear.

She smiled and slid from his touch, then walked softly down the hall,
shivering in the chill. Their old house was out in the country, with huge
rambling hallways and open expanses with wooden floors for rooms. They had
carpeted most of it, except for the foyer and kitchen and the dining room,
the smell of wood strong there.

She found the nightlight in the hall flickering and she pushed it further
into the socket with her toe until it gave off a reassuring glow.

The sound of crying was coming from Grace's room and she hurried in,
pushing open the cracked door and glancing in.

"Gracie?"

Her daughter's eyes turned to her and her muffled sobs exploded into full
blown crying.

Scully went to her side quickly, pulling her into her arms, soothing her
with kisses and soft words, rocking her back and forth.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"I had a bad dream."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Can't remember. . ." she said pitifully and shivered in her mother's
arms, her tears soaking Scully's T-shirt.

Her mother was sitting on the side of the bed, arms around her strongly,
when Mulder came in, awake after Grace's crying.

Her eyes lit up and she held her arms out to her Daddy, going up into his
large embrace, his smell surrounding her with comfort.

Her Daddy had bad dreams too; he knew how frightening they could be. Mommy
didn't understand; she was always calm and she never was afraid of
monsters or witches or bad men who could break in and murder her.

Her Daddy hugged her tightly and she felt her mother's hand on her back,
rubbing it.

Scully felt the sting as her daughter reached for Mulder, but she pushed
down her selfishness ruthlessly, and placed a hand on Grace's sweaty back.

She moved to leave, knowing the Grace wanted her father, but the little
girl grabbed at her.

"Stay here Mommy. Just till I fall asleep."

Scully smiled and kissed Grace's forehead, then sat back down, keeping a
hand firmly on her back and her eyes on her daughter's.

Mulder rocked her back to sleep, an old Irish tune at his lips and a
steady hand in her hair.

Just as she was about to drift off, Mulder laid her back in the bed,
tucking her in. Grace's lips moved and her eyes opened slightly.

"Mommy can beat up all the bad men," she said softly and fell into sleep.

Scully looked at Mulder with surprise and he grinned, wanting to laugh.

They walked from the room and went to bed themselves.

She felt warm, loved, and needed.

It was enough to combat the helplessness she had about the baby, and sleep
found her quickly.
~~~~
~~~~

"Immediately the father of the child cried out, "I believe; help my
unbelief!"
--Mark 9:24

~~~~

The church was silent and soft, like the moment before a child runs wild
in the meadow, with the flowers swaying in the gentle breeze of spring.
She could almost see those flowers, smell them as she inhaled the incense
and the old wood and the holiness of the place.

She made her way to the front, crossing herself, lighting a candle, saying
again all those prayers that had slipped her mind at times.

Scully stood, watched the Confessional through tear jerked eyes, then
moved slowly up the side aisle to it, knowing there were untold
revelations to be found within.

The priest listened with his usual air of fatherhood, his reverent belief
in God and man that always made Scully humble, always made her want to run
from the church and do every single thing right, just so she wouldn't
disappoint this man's God.

She explained the baby, spoke of her fear, of her tiredness, of the past.

There were impending dangers, there were troubled times ahead, there were
rough waters.

And there were dragons in those waters.

When it ended, after all was forgiven, she sat there feeling numb.

She crawled from the box, her heart cold, her limbs heavy, her very soul
ripped and bleeding.

Nothing was going to make this better.

Not one man's caring words to a hopeful mother, not the last words of her
confession, not the knowledge that she was trying to set things right,
none of it eased her.

She was still a broken woman, still aching for love and for what would not
happen.

She knew it in her heart, felt it within the core of her.

This baby would not make it.

She had just better be ready.
~~~~

Mulder pulled Grace from the sidewalk and wrapped her with a huge hug,
letting her shocked face and incredible grin lift his spirits.

"What are you doing here, Daddy?" she said, as he held her hand and walked
her back to Gramma's house from the bus stop.

"I came early to get you."

"Was there not much at work?"

Mulder felt his smile turn down, but he shook his head. "Right, not much.
Mommy went to church for a few minutes, and she'll meet us at home."

Grace grew still, her face troubled.

"Daddy. . .what's wrong with Mommy?"

Mulder turned to see her ready to cry, her lips trembling, her eyes wide
with a kind of fear no child should ever feel in concern for their
parents.

"Ah. . .Grace. . .nothing's wrong. We'll tell you together, when we get
home, what's been going on."

She hitched in her breath. "Mommy. . .Mommy had a nose bleed a few weeks
ago, Daddy. She told me not to tell you, but she was sad about it. I
wanted to tell you, but she said not to. It's okay that I said it, right?"

Mulder sighed. "Baby, it's okay. Mommy was trying to keep me from worrying
about her. Her nose bleeding is a part of what we're going to tell you."

She nodded and wrapped her arms tightly around her, shivering.

"If Mommy. . ."

But she stopped and looked at her father, remembering her mother's words
that night, the way she hadn't wanted him to worry.

"Let's go home, Daddy."

Mulder took her hand and led her to the car.
~~~~

"Church help?" he said softly in her ear.

She nodded tightly, then bit her lip. "Kind of. . ."

"Mommy?"

Grace came in behind her father, pushing her way through his legs to her
mother's side.

"Hey, baby. Daddy and I need to tell you something."

She nodded and let her parents lead her to the couch, feeling the way the
room seemed cold and lifeless.

"Grace. . .remember the story about your miracle?"

Grace looked to her father with a bright grin. "I was a miracle, and you
had to do lots of things to get me."

"That's right. We wanted you very much," Scully said softly, looking into
her daughter's face and seeing her sister, seeing Mulder, seeing everyone
but herself.

Mulder pulled the little girl into his lap. "Well, your Mommy is pregnant,
baby. You might get a little brother or sister."

Grace's face was stone, hard and cold, and she said nothing, not able to
comprehend the words.

"But, this time we didn't have all that help, Gracie, so the baby is very
weak. It's not strong like you were."

Grace looked at her mother carefully. "But I don't want a brother or
sister."

Scully gave her a soft smile. "You'll like having someone else to play
with, once the baby gets older. But, Grace, it's very important that you
understand what I said."

Grace shook her head, wanting to protest.

"Because the baby is weak," Mulder began, holding her head still with a
hand to her chin, "it might not make it. There's a chance that the baby
will be too weak to live."

Grace's mouth dropped open. "I don't *want* the baby anyway! I don't want
it."

She pulled from her father's arms and ran to her room, her face clouded.

Mulder stared after her, the hurt spiralling in him like a dizzy roller
coaster.

He stood to go after her, anger replacing the pain, but Scully gripped his
arm, her face serene.

"Let her go, Mulder. It's a little touch of sibling rivalry. I think I
said the same to my parents when they told us they were going to have
Charlie."

He glanced to her, his face a collage of hurt and sorrow and anger.

"She should be. . .should be thrilled. And. . .she should be sad that
maybe the baby won't make it. Not *wishing* for it to die!"

Scully dropped her hand, looking down at the carpet.

In truth, Grace's reply didn't shock her that much, but she knew just how
self-centered all children were, it was instinctive for them, not
something to blame them for. She also knew just how stubborn Grace could
get, knew of the pain of having an offer or feeling rebuked by their
daughter.

But it had disillusioned Mulder.

She reached out for him and drew herself into his arms, making him forget
Grace for the moment.

"I'm sorry Scully. I'm sorry she acted like that."

Scully shook her head, recognizing how it sounded as if he were
apologizing for *his* daughter, as if Grace wasn't also her own.

"It's okay. It's really all right," she whispered, but inside, she knew it
was just another omen, just another sign of not only her deteriorating
relationship with her daughter, but also of the fate of the child within
her.
~~~~

"I don't want the baby!" 

Mulder sighed and threw his hands up in surrender, backing away.

"Forget it then, Grace. Just go to sleep now. We'll talk about it in the
morning."

He kissed her good night and clicked off the lamp, pulling her covers up
and tucking her in tightly.

Scully was outside, tears falling down her face.

He took her into his arms and held her there, shutting Grace's door with
his toe.

"It's all right. She'll get used to the idea, Scully."

She shook her head against his chest, pushing back and gaining the needed
distance to stop her tears.

"No. I. . .It's not that. I just can't even talk to her anymore. She
ignores everything I say, Mulder."

His face blanked and he led her down the hall, frowning.

"What are you talking about?"

"She acts like I. . .like she doesn't need me. Every day, she asks for
you, Mulder. Every time we're alone, she wants to see you. When I offer
her ice cream, she shrugs. When you offer her ice cream, she smiles and
begs for it. I can't. . .can't get it right with her, Mulder."

His face was thunderstruck, hands trembling at her shoulders.

"You. . .you're just sick over the baby, Scully, projecting it on Grace.
That's not true. She loves you."

"But she *adores* you."

Mulder sighed and ran his hands down her sides, eyes slipping shut.

"I don't know what to say to that, Scully. I'm not going to tell you that
I want her to stop adoring me. . . ."

She shook her head. "That's not what I want. I just want to not feel awful
every time she talks to me."

His hands found her bare skin, then slid up her stomach, feather light.

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything. . ." she whispered.

He turned away, but let his hands linger on her body, needing to forget
all the pain, all the grief that waiting brought.

"It'll get better, Scully. It will. She's got to grow up some."

Scully reached out for him then, pushing down the voice in her that
screamed against his words.

It would never get better.
~~~~

Her mother had called, wanting her to talk to someone, knowing that Scully
had a hard time talking to those closest to her, knowing she'd feel like a
burden unloading her fears on her family, who were just as frightened as
her.

So she sat there, facing Father McCue with a trembling smile, telling him
the soft story of how she had made Grace, of her problems with
infertility, and now, the sudden almost miracle.

"I am sorry, Dana," he said softly, patting her hand and offering her a
gentle smile.

"I. . . I guess I'm here because I don't know how to feel, really."

"I'm sure you do feel something, Dana, even if it's just confusion."

"There's confusion. . .I. . .I prayed so long and hard for God to just let
me have one baby, one child of my own, and he sort of did. He gave me
Grace. Her name reflects how I feel. . ."

Father McCue nodded and smiled with recognition. "Grace is a beauty, so
charming and so stubborn too. Just like you."

Scully shook her head softly. "No, maybe in passing. But she's not
biologically mine. She's half of my sister, Melissa."

Her head bowed and she wrapped her hurt back in the wool, pulled it down
into the deepest parts of her.

"Dana. . ." His words were soft, almost tentative. "Nothing happens
outside of God's will."

She raised her head. "Grace was God's will? That I should try for two
years, of pain and sorrow and lost ones to get a little girl who isn't
really my own. . .and then to have this baby growing suddenly within me?
As if God was a little late?"

The father shook his head. "It is all God's will. . .especially Grace,
especially this baby within you now."

Scully closed her eyes. "How? I. . .Even *I* could die with this, Father.
To leave Mulder, and Grace, after such a long hard time creating what we
have. . .How can that be something God would want?"

Father McCue watched her for a long long time.

"The nuances of God's will are vast and confusing, I know, Dana. It's hard
to see why God would let things like this be a part of His will. You
remember Job, and how God let the devil test him, including taking away
his children?"

Scully's mouth dropped. "I'd forgotten how his children were taken. The
story just kind of glosses that over. God rewards him with a bigger family
later. . .and you think it's all okay again."

"If you were to lose this child, but keep Grace, would you think it's all
okay?"

She shook her head violently. "That can't be right. I refuse to believe
that could be God."

"There's a bit of a difference, Dana."

She looked up at him, hands resting splayed on her stomach, as if
protecting the tiny life within her, wondering how this conversation was
supposed to ease her heart.

"I believe that there are two facets to God's will. The things God *wants*
and the things he *allows*. God allowed Job to have his family taken away
from him by the devil. That doesn't mean God's will wasn't being done. It
*was* His will. Just not what He wanted."

Scully stopped rubbing her hands together and stared at the elderly man,
the concept swirling in her mind like water caught in a hurricane.

"He allowed. . ."

"Maybe he allowed you your wish, Dana. Maybe God's letting you have that.
Suppose He wanted you to have Grace. Now He's allowing you to have this
child. And if he allows it to die. . .then there is some greater purpose,
I am sure of it. I know that's not too comforting, but it's there."

"He's allowing this to happen. . .even if He doesn't want it to happen."

She gulped and turned her eyes to the stained glass above the Father's
office, the way the figure of Christ was humbled by thorns and nails and
man's spittle.

She shivered. 

"I can't see how this is going to work out for the better, though. I don't
know of any possible good there could come from this baby dying."

Father McCue sighed and took her hand, placing his other to her slightly
rounded stomach.

"God's eyes see farther than ours. . .little one. . .hasn't this given you
some kind of hope?"

She turned her eyes to the artwork above them, tracing the outline of the
body being raised from the dead, of Christ walking to the woman and
meeting her, outstretched hands still revealing nail scars.

"Hope. . .If my baby is so deformed, so filled with birth defects, what's
to say the next won't be the same? I can't let myself get pregnant again,
Father. That would be cruel. To me, to Mulder, to the unborn baby. To try
only to have it die. . ."

"And, Dana, who's to say that this isn't God's little test run?"

She shivered. "I think that's an awful way of putting it. This is a baby.
. ."

"Who will go to God, should He call for him."

She turned to see him, eyes sharp. "You believe that?"

The man closed his eyes. "How could a child not?"

She sighed and squeezed his hand, still tightly clutching hers.

"My faith does not collapse when faced with situations like yours, little
one."

His next words were quiet, carefully spoken.

"But, my conviction trembles, and I have to remember that His ways are not
my own. No matter how unfair I think this is, whether God allows this or
wants this, He is still far more greater than I."

Scully licked her lip, then bowed her head again, feeling ashamed to look
on the faces of those who believed without reservations, their convictions
framed by light and colored glass.

"I believe because of my doubts, Father McCue. Not in spite of them."

He nodded and blessed her, then kissed her hands very softly, his eyes
troubled.

"So has everyone else, Dana. St. Peter, St. Paul. . .they had moments
where even they turned from God. . .from their Lord. It didn't make them
awful people."

"It made them saints," she whispered.

Smiling softly, she raised her eyes back to the stained glass, seeing now
the faces of gentle astonishment, the hearts that were berating themselves
for not having believed strong enough.

"Whatever happens, cling tightly to your God."

She stood and thanked him, her soul not quite so wrung out, her tears not
as brittle and heart stopping.

This baby was a sign to her. A gift of momentary joy and hope that spoke
of greater things, far reaching things.

She still didn't know if she should try again or not after this baby, if
God was telling her that she wasn't destined to have her own children, or
that she could have as many as she liked.

God could be showing her just how much of a miracle Grace was, or
demonstrating His power, or simply reminding her not to take her family
for granted.

If this child made it, if this baby within her grew and came from her
alive and breathing, no matter the genetic faults or birth defects, it
would be her own.

Another miracle, different from Grace, but no less wonderful, no less
special.
~~~~
~~~~

"He's always teaching them that love creates survivors."
--"Peacemaker" Cowboy Mouth

~~~~

Dr. Bellcamp was looking at them, the results of their amniocentesis in
his hands, done at 14 weeks so that they could settle out some things. The
karyotyping earlier had found Trisomy 18 for sure, and though they'd been
warned, both Mulder and Scully were feeling a little shell shocked.

The doctor leaned forward and took Scully's hand softly, nodding to her as
if trying to reassure her with news that he didn't want to give.

"Dana, Mulder. . .First the happier news. The baby is a boy. . .but the
diagnostic shows that in addition to Trisomy 18, a conginetal heart defect
has been discovered, something called Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome."

Mulder looked to the doctor with questions. "What is that?"

He wasn't waiting for Scully to explain it to him later, mainly because
recently, she'd been more and more withdrawn.

"It's where the left side of the heart is underdeveloped, and that's bad
because it's the left side of the heart that pushes blood to the rest of
the body."

Mulder's face blanked and he looked to Scully, noticing that she was
looking down at her hands.

"We'd like to do an echocardiogram, and get a pediatric cardiologist to
look at it, Dana. We're going to be prepared for this, when it comes, and
we need to discuss your options."

Scully nodded stoicly and Mulder could tell she wanted to cry but wasn't
going to let herself.

He shook the doctor's hand as he left to do some final checking, then
thought for a minute.

"I was reading about Trisomy 18, Scully. It's characterized by multiple
organ malformation. Does that mean there could be other problems? Other
left sides that aren't developed?"

Scully glanced up to him, noticing the ovewhelmed look in his eyes that
matched the sick ache in her, the feeling that nothing could go right.

"Probably. Kidneys, liver, and others. The. . .the bottom of the baby's
feet will turn in, and the fingers will lap over each other. It's not. .
.not the best looking. . ."

She turned her head and blinked back heavy tears, brushing away the ones
that escaped and trying to keep everything in perspective.

"So. . .what does the left side of the heart do, Scully? How's it going to
affect the baby?"

She shook her head. She didn't want to talk about this with him; she
wanted the entire thing to roll off her tight bubble of a world, to slide
away and down, but he was forcing her to deal with this, and she supposed
she would later be grateful.

"The left side pushes blood to the body, like he said."

"What happens if the baby's body doesn't get blood?"

Scully picked at the chair she sat in, leaning on the arm rest, moving in
closer to Mulder's warm body and soft breath.

She tried to be clinical, remembering medical text and cold definitions.

"He'll sort of suffocate, Mulder. Everything just shuts down. It can be
painless sometimes, I think. I'm not too sure. There's medicine you can
give that will make it painless."

"But. . .but what about right now? Is he going to suffocate?"

She shook her head. "Since the baby doesn't use its lungs in the womb,
then he won't have to deal with it until he's born. I don't know much more
than that, Mulder."

He stilled, quiet again, understanding that she wanted to merely sit there
and feel, to let it wash over her, touch her, instead of trying to explain
it to him.

Dr. Bellcamp returned with a man who introduced himself as Dr. Jacobs, a
large man with thin fingers and a steady smile. He talked about surgeries
they could do, a three step procedure, if the baby made it through, which
wasn't gauranteed, and also infant heart transplants.

They could also merely take the baby home and let him die with dignity and
without fuss, taking only a few short days, a week at the most.

Mulder felt that if they got that far, then he was going to fight like
hell to get the surgeries done, to let their baby have as much as a chance
as possible. A heart transplant could be tricky since it was hard to get
donors, and the baby could die while they waited.

He glanced to Scully, and the look on her face showed him something he
didn't want to believe.

She looked resigned, calm, as if she had already made up her mind.

She felt it best to spend as much time with their baby as they could, if
he survived the pregnancy, and to take it home, away from the sterility of
the hospital and the pain of surgery and good-byes.

Every surgery would cost expensive money that they just didn't have, not
after the two years of trying artificial insemination for Grace, and every
surgery would pull them away from their baby.

She wanted to take him home, hold him without tubes and nurses hovering,
and feel his final moments.

She wanted to just let him go. . .peacefully and quietly, no pain or long
good-byes.

Mulder was staring at her in horror.
~~~~

After fighting in the car, they walked into the house in silence, looking
for Grace.

Scully's mother came in then and hugged them both, her sharp eyes catching
their dissent, the tension pushing between them. She gestured to the
kitchen, where Grace was helping her cook them a chicken dinner, knowing
that they were going to be tired.

But Scully shook her head and put a hand briefly over her mouth, feeling
sick for a second.

"I'm going to go on to bed, Mom. Thanks though."

Mulder touched her side, the concern melting away his disgusted attitude
towards her.

She nodded to him, and moved away, heading towards the bathroom. They had
decided to wait until the baby was delivered to actually decide something,
knowing that it was a long shot anyway, and that also, their feelings
could change once they were in the situation.

She slipped her shoes off and threw them in the closet, then shrugged out
of her suit jacket and pants, then the hose. Her stomach was pleasantly
rounded, in a stage she remembered with Grace, her fingers soft along her
skin.

She looked in the mirror as she pulled on a T-shirt and then some shorts.

She still wasn't huge, and the baby would probably never get that big, she
was told, especially considering that her body wouldn't let him get too
big before she would deliver. Her body knew how to protect her, even if it
meant sacrificing the baby. It made her feel like her body was in revolt,
able to do things without her permission.

Like become pregnant in the first place.

She sighed and crawled in to bed, lying on her back and looking up at the
ceiling, noticing the water stain from last week's thunderstorm. It was
oval shaped, and she imagined it looked just like a fetus, all curled up
tight and eyes closed.

There was a little boy in her, a little baby boy who would look like her
and Mulder together, a boy. . .

Knowing that made the entire thing feel worse.

She closed her own eyes, hand along her stomach and body weary.

For awhile, she'd been weary all the time, and her nosebleeds had finally
stopped, but she occasionally grew sick to her stomach, although she
hadn't thrown up. It was scary, because it hadn't been that way with
Grace. Grace had been more normal.

Grace was normal.

Scully sighed and closed her eyes, feeling so incomplete, so empty,
falling toward something she could not stop.

She had thought she'd dealt with the truth of her infertility, with that
awful knowledge that nothing would come from her, nothing of her own to be
joined with Mulder into a beautiful future. She had Grace, and in the
beginning, there was no difference, no feelings of hurt at her own body's
failure.

As their relationship grew further apart, and Scully felt that she was not
needed, a sick knowledge of her own inadequacy grew within her. There was
nothing to stop it, and with this pregnancy, with the hope it gave breifly
then snatched away cruelly, she felt even worse.

It was all compounded by the nature of her and Grace's relationship, and
although she wished to talk to someone, she didn't feel she could. Mulder
didn't understand her position, thought she was overreacting to the
situation, and her mother had only made her feel more guilty because,
evidently, she had acted the same way.

Daddy's girl. 

Grace was her father's, she would have to see that, to understand that it
brought complexities with it, things she had never wanted to face before,
but would have to.

She just didn't have the energy for it now.

She didn't have the energy for anything that required feelings.
~~~~

There was a brush along her arm, a soft whisper of skin that jerked her
awake.

Scully looked up and saw Grace there, her eyes near Scully's face, and her
hand on her mother's shoulder.

"Hey Gracie," she said softly, taking her hand.

"Mommy?"

"Yeah, hon?"

"You won't die will you?"

Scully sighed and pulled her up on the bed, moving her into her side, and
pulling the covers up over her.

"Why do you ask that, Grace?"

"I heard Daddy and Gramma talking about the baby. Mommy, I don't want a
brother. Not if you're going to die."

Scully traced the soft skin of her daughter's face. 

"Baby, there's no certainty for anyone about life. There's a chance for
anyone to die. But I really don't think you need to worry about it."

"Will I need to worry later?"

She shook her head. "No. Not anytime soon. Maybe when your Daddy and I are
hundreds of years old. . ."

Grace smiled tightly, but Scully could see that her daughter was still
upset over something.

"Do you still not want the baby?" she said softly.

Grace turned suddenly, propping her body up to see her mother's eyes.

"But *I'm* the baby. You and Daddy call me the baby."

Scully pushed Grace's hair from her eyes, feeling the softness of its
curl.

"You'll always be our baby, Grace."

"Well, I don't want another one." Her words were sharp and hard.

"Just because you'll have to share being the baby?"

"No." She shook her head and frowned. "Because. . .because. . .I. .
.Mommy. . .I don't want to say something bad. . .but. . ."

Scully felt her eyebrows raise and she touched her daughter's frown.
"Grace, anything. You can tell me anything."

"Daddy is my logical Daddy, right?"

Scully smiled softly. "Biological, right."

"And you're not, but I call you Mommy because you had me and you wanted
me."

"That's right, Gracie."

She felt the sting start in her, deep in her center.

"Well. . .you said that you didn't get help with this baby, so that means
it's logical yours?"

Scully was impressed that she had managed to think in this relationship,
to understand half of what her miracle story meant.

"That's right. The baby is biologically both mine and your Daddy's."

"And I'm not."

Scully frowned, watching the little girl struggle with her thoughts.

"But. . .but will you and Daddy not want me anymore once you have your own
baby?"

Scully felt crushed, and tears coursed rapidly down her face.

"Oh God, Grace. Never never never."

She pulled her daughter down to her, hugging tightly, trying to show
through the fierceness of her hug just how much she wanted her little
girl.

"We will always want you, baby. Always, Gracie. Always."

Grace nodded softly, but she pulled back. "But Daddy said the baby was
special. More special than me. Will Daddy not want me either? Because the
baby is yours logical too?"

Scully couldn't even see the girl's face for her own tears, but she shook
her head and held her tightly.

"Daddy will always want you. We love you, Grace. We love you so much. We
tried so hard for you, baby. Whatever you do, whatever happens, it's
okay."

"A girl at school said you could trade me in if you didn't like me. Do you
think Daddy would trade me in?"

Scully shook her head with a tired smile. "No. Daddy would never trade in
his Gracie. I don't think you can do that anyway. That girl was trying to
make you feel bad."

Grace laid her head down on Scully's shoulder, sighing and clutching her
shirt with tiny fingers.

"Grace?"

Her soft sigh echoed in the room and Scully rubbed her back gently.

"Grace, does it make you feel bad to know that you're not biologically
mine?"

Grace's eyes closed and she shivered. "Yes."

Scully's tears were hardly dry before they began again.

She wrapped both arms around her tight, burying her head into Grace's
embrace.

"Oh baby. I want you to know that no one, *no one* could love you more
than your mommy does. Grace. . .oh Grace, I don't know how to make you
understand."

Grace's face was pressed against her mother and she was crying too.

She drew in a deep sobbing breath and then went still.

"Did the baby move?" she said, her voice almost nonexistent.

Scully smiled. "No. My stomach growled. I didn't eat dinner."

Grace raised up and smiled at her mother. "Then go eat, silly."

Scully smiled and reached out to hug her, sitting up to rock her back and
forth.

"You're mine, Gracie. No matter what your biology is. You're mine. All
mine."

"And Daddy's, too."

Scully laughed. "Right. Most definitely Daddy's. He'd get jealous if I
never shared."

Grace sat up and hopped off the bed, pulling on her hand. "Let's eat,
Mommy."

Scully stood up, balancing herself with the wall, the dizziness catching
her off guard.

Grace led her from the room and she went willingly, an ache for the words
Grace had said, but also feeling that they were beginning to heal again.
~~~~
~~~~

"This is my forty-fifth depressing tune
They're looking for money as they clean my artistic womb
And when I give birth to the child I must take to flight
'cause the black in our pocket won't let us fight a proper fight."
--"Anything" Sixpence None The Richer

~~~~

She was tired, and bored, with the sun stretching its rays for another day
of homebound life, her own weariness betraying her.

Her doctor had pressed upon Mulder to make her take maternity leave, to
get rid of any undue stress upon the baby, upon her health. It was a
precaution that she was felt worthless, especially when she felt no hope
within her, felt no chance of survival anymore.

She shook her head; the depression of being home day in and day out was
making her a little off, a little bitter and sorrowful. Climbing from the
bed and remembering Mulder's lips glancing her forehead as he had left,
she made her way to the living room, looking for another book to read.

She spent most of her time reading novels and true life accounts, and she
had even been so bored as to read some of Mulder's alien abduction
stories, going through old files he'd never relinquished, pouring over the
theories he had penned in the margins.

When he came home with Grace, she was up and awake and happy. Playing GI
Joes with her daughter had become a regular event, with Barbies becoming a
part of the elite team. Scully thought it charming that Grace made the
dolls the people in charge of the 'missions' and that her favorite Barbie
managed to always save her favorite GI Joe. She was sure it said something
about her relationship with Mulder.

They ate dinner, Scully attempting to keep it all down, most times able to
eat everything without feeling too sick. They would then watch television
together, enjoying their time with each other, laughing. Grace was still
dead set against having a brother, and she wouldn't let Scully hold her,
refusing even to talk about it anymore.

Scully still had no idea what to do with her daughter, knowing that while
they were becoming closer in some ways, they were still further apart than
any mother and daughter ought to be. But with the melancholy of the day
threatening her like a rain cloud, and the moments of temporary joy during
the evenings, Scully didn't press anything.

In their room, Mulder and Scully stayed up late into the night, sometimes
into early morning, debating the old files in the storage box under their
bed. She would present logical explanations for the wild and untamed
theories noted in the margins and he would either grimace in embarassment
at having ever written such a thing, or revise his opinion, strengthening
it from the vast knowledge he had attained over the years.

Often times, they would drag out the original case, detailing the notes
and interviews, her mind reviewing the autopsies and medical information,
just as in the old days of the X-Files. She found the nights the best part
of her day, and even though she noticed that Mulder seemed more and more
exhausted, she couldn't bear going to bed.

Because when she woke in the morning, she was alone with her fears, alone
with her grief.

Once, she woke feeling groggy to find Mulder still in bed beside her, at
about one o'clock in the afternoon, after a two in the morning debate over
her most recent rediscovery. Waking him anxiously, she had crawled over
him to help him get dressed and get to work. He had stilled her with a
kiss, explaining that he had called in sick, too exhausted to even drive.
Grace had made it to the bus stop with her lunch, he reassured her.

She'd smiled at him and they'd had a marvelous day, as he took her out to
shop for a few hours, then to dinner.

Scully felt peace settle over her as she thought about that day the other
week. It had been good for them, a way to sublimate all their fears about
the baby, about what would happen to their still tenuous bridge.

She realized she was staring at the book shelf without really noticing
anything on it.

Her eyes travelled over the volumes there, at the combination of her and
Mulder's life contained within not only these shelves, but on bookcases
all over the living room, their bedroom, and the computer room.

The computer room was sort of her room. She had carpetted parts of it
around the computer, and everyone came in to use it now and again, but the
rest of the room held things that were solely and uniquely her own.

She walked softly to that room now, her bare feet chilled on the wooden
floor. The dark navy curtains looked similiar to Grace's blue room at her
mother's house, and the braided rugs were in forest green, dark navy,
light blue, and a soft yellow. The room always seemed to be able to break
down her defenses, crawl right into her and settle there like a beautiful
memory.

She reached the bookcase and ran a hand along the spines, watching the
dust drift down, the way the dark wood of the shelves complimented the
various colors of their books. The dark blue paint on the walls soothed
her and she relaxed.

Her eyes were drawn immediately to their Bible. She smiled, remembering
the day he had held it up, fright in his eyes, asking if he were going to
hell for stealing a Gideon Bible from the motel they had last stayed out.

Out of some kind of reverence, he had made her keep it, saying that it was
his sin, and somehow, that had made her laugh.

She pulled the book down now, the cheap faux leather cracked a bit with
the pressure of the full bookshelf, and the gilded letters rubbed off
almost completely.

Opening it, the pages fell naturally to Genesis. Her eyes drifted lazily
over it and she noticed with a particular feeling of grief that a lot of
the women in this book had been infertile up until God had allowed them
children. They had either prayed, or had a strong faith, and God had given
them a child.

She noticed that usually, God gave the woman only one child. . .and then
their line was complete. With some, there were twins. 

Feeling strange, she read through some of their stories, understanding how
Sarah could laugh with the news that she would bear a son in her old age,
sympathizing with Rachel's frantic cries for a baby, just one baby for her
husband, Jacob, and her. She loved Jacob completely and wanted that
physical reminder of their bond.

Rachel's sister, Leah, was also her husband's wife, given to Jacob in
marriage as a trick, when he thought he was getting Rachel, the one he
loved. Leah gave Jacob lots of children, lots of strong healthy boys to
carry on his inheritance. 

Scully felt these same things in her own life, felt the way a sister could
make her jealous, how Rachel probably looked at those children of her
sister's and begged for one of her own, felt sick that Jacob had
completeness with someone else.

She closed her eys and laid her head back, suddenly weary and aching. She
rubbed her stomach softly and sighed, her own feelings of inadequacy
mirroring Rachel's, knowing the same sick feeling at seeing another's
child in her husband's heart.

Suddenly, she felt anxious, and she opened her eyes, flipping through the
chapters of Genesis, looking out for anything mentioning Rachel. She had
to know how it ended, had to know what happened to this woman so like her.

What she read chilled her to the core.

Rachel gave birth to a baby boy, finally, named Joseph, and Scully
remembered that this was the Joseph with the coat of many colors, and the
dreams that someday his brothers would bow down to him. Then Rachel became
pregnant again, but this time, during a journey, she died during
childbirth.

She named the child Ben-oni as her soul departed, a name that meant, Son
of my Sorrow.

Scully gasped and closed her eyes, feeling the ominous weight of her
belly, the sudden stillness to the air, the intensity of all the moments
ever on earth coming down to that very second of that hour of that day.

It clutched her like fire and she doubled over.

<Mulder>

She trembled, struggled to stand, then collapsed to the floor, a wash of
red staining her room, her blue blue room.
~~~~

Mulder was scratching some notes into a case file report when he felt it.

Sick hurtling fear like a punch to his gut.

He doubled over, his blood rushing to his head and making his vision swim.

He vomitted in the trash can beside his desk, then felt himself crawling
on the floor, curling agianst the cool metal of the desk.

Its chill brought him to his senses, but in a haze of gut wrenching fear,
he saw something just behind his eyelids.

Blood. . .

Red, red blood.

He stood despite the gnawing in him, swaying on his feet.

Calling 9-1-1, Mulder answered the operator's questions over his cell
phone even as he headed for his home, headed for his wife.

He saw blood.

He only saw blood.
~~~~

Rift 6: Guilt

~~~~
Guilt
~~~~

"His whole life was never bringing it home
dealt with murder and fear on his own
worked out of love and worked out of rage
getting shot at for minimum wage."
--"Peacemaker" Cowboy Mouth

~~~~

When his car crunched up the gravel drive and slid into his parking spot,
Mulder saw the ambulance outside, the paramedics still waiting by the
door.

He felt a cold grip of fear crush him tight.

If Scully hadn't come to the door, if no one had let them in. . .

"What are you doing?" he yelled, running up the walk and shoving them
aside to paw at the lock with fumbling fingers and a key.

"Sir, we aren't allowed to break in your home without probable-"

He growled and shoved open the door, calling her name as he ran through
the foyer, dashed through the kitchen, living room, then to their bedroom.

"Scully!" he screamed, feeling an ache throb in him.

He darted into the computer room, just to check, he told himself, just to
check, she shouldn't be there, shouldn't-

she was.

Everything was red, blood and red and dark, spreading all along the wood
floors like a river.

"Dana..."

He ran to her, the medics coming through his house like an angry and
vengeful spirit, his hands gathering her up to him with sobs.

"Dana, Dana, Dana. . .baby, oh baby. . ."

They pushed him gently from her, taking her vital signs as he explained
her pregnancy. By the look on their faces, he could tell the baby was
dead, and that Scully was following.
~~~~

Grace was sitting far from them, her face a mask of uncaring and
unfeeling, her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at them.

Mulder didn't even try to reach out to her, letting Mrs. Scully attempt to
guile her with promises of candy and love.

When Dr. Bellcamp came in to the small, private waiting room, Mulder
jumped to his feet, his heart thudding loudly, fear like a finger gagging
his throat.

Bellcamp nodded to the family, shaking Mulder's hand.

"As you probably guessed, the baby didn't make it."

Mulder had been preparing himself for the news, but it still wrenched
through him like a knife in the gut, making it hard to breathe right.

He leaned a hand against the wall, closing his eyes.

"And Scully?"

Bellcamp's frown made his eyes grow wide, made his breath quicken, made
him want to scream.

"What about my wife?" he whispered, fear lacing his voice.

"Ah. . .Scully?"

He gave a wild look to the doctor, then his face dawned in understanding.

"Yeah, I call her Scully. . .sorry."

Bellcamp smiled brightly and patted his shoulder. "She's going to be fine.
We did the surgery and got everything without any problems. We had to give
her a lot of blood to replace what she lost, but she's all right. I can
let you see her, now, if you'd like."

Mulder followed him eagerly down the hall, ignoring the ache in him over
his baby, knowing that he had to be strong for Scully, had to let her know
she could talk to him without worrying about how he would feel.

Mulder knew that he had to be right beside her, had to be there for her to
make up for all the times when he hadn't, when his own selfishness had put
her to the back of his mind. 

If she was going to reach out for him, he'd have to be strong.

The door was closed as they came to it, and Dr. Bellcamp let him in with a
silent nod. Mulder slipped inside and came to her bedside, watching her
breathe. Her stomach was almost back to normal, if the thin slip of a
waist was at all normal, and her hands were covering her belly, as if in
silent lament.

"Mulder?" she whispered, in a voice so soft that only he would have heard
the faint impression of his name on her breath.

"It's me, Scully."

She opened her eyes and he saw the tears there, the sky blue of her eyes
overshadowed by such pain, such an incredible depth of sorrow.

He melted into her, pulling her up to him, burying his head into her neck
with his own tears trickling down her skin.

"I'm so sorry, so sorry. It's my fault. I should have been in bed, like
the doctor said. . ."

He shushed her with his lips, pressing gently into her with all the raw
force, all the blinding pain, and all of his intense love.

She began sobbing into his lips, her tears salty and bitter, a flood in
their love.

Her arms pulled him so that he almost fell into the bed with her, and he
leaned against the railing, bruising his ribs and pushing his breath away.

"Scully. . .it's nothing you did. We knew this might come, knew that this
would happen.

She nodded softly into him.
~~~~

The room was dark and silent as she watched her daughter walk through the
door, her lips pouting in a look that was so normal, so everyday, that
Scully smiled and held out her arms.

Grace was hesitant only for a moment, and then she ran to her mother,
throwing her body into the bed, letting Scully pick her up and hug her
tightly.

"Everything's okay, now, right Mommy?" she said softly, her body curled
around Scully's

Mulder patted her back and smoothed her shirt down, watching them.

"Mm, I'm okay, baby. I'm okay."

Grace nodded and pulled her head back, sitting up in the bed and
extracting herself from her mother's embrace.

Mrs. Scully walked over and hugged her daughter, a lingering touch that
made Scully feel her loss so keenly, so completely, that she began to
shudder with tears.

Mulder's reassuring hand made her halt, made her find her calm again and
cease the need in her to weep.

They knew this had been coming, knew that this would probably happen.

She had all that time to prepare herself, and she had a previous
experience, so she knew what would happen. It should have been easier than
this.

Grace played with the sheets, then hopped down, moving over to sit in one
of the chairs, letting Mulder and Gramma crowd around her mother. She was
a bit afraid to touch her, knowing what had happened, how the baby had
died.

She rested her chin on her hands and watched her family, watched her
mother's tense eyes and her father's shaking head, Gramma's concern.

Her baby brother was dead, gone before she even got a chance to see him,
gone before she could make up her mind whether or not she even wanted to
share being the baby. It wasn't fair.

She closed her eyes and tried to forget it.
~~~~

Mulder was sitting beside her, asleep, his hands resting on her stomach,
his cheek pressed against the sheets, even drooling a little. She was glad
he was getting some rest, even if she couldn't find sleep a comfort.

Too many dreams crowded in on her, dreams where she was Rachel, pregnant
and dying while giving birth and Mulder there, sobbing over her as she
named the baby Sorrow's son.

She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through his hair, oily now because
she'd been touching him so much, reassuring herself that he was there,
just as he promised. She had told him to go home with Grace and her
mother, but this time, he hadn't, even though this time she had really
meant it.

She felt touched that he stayed, felt comforted by his sleeping form even
though he had wanted to stay awake for her, just in case she needed him.

She opened her eyes and thought about her little boy, letting herself
indulge in the tears for a few moments, telling herself she could control
them again when she had to.

The pain in her belly was quieted by Mulder's hands, but in the computer
room, surrounded by books and wood floors, she had felt the knife twist in
her, felt the betrayal of her body as she fell to her knees.

The sob came from low in her throat as she recalled the feel of the Brutus
stab through her abdomen, the ripping that had made the blood pour from
her like the Red Sea.

She reached for Mulder's hand and clutched it, every second of that heart
stopping moment etched so deeply in her that she couldn't breathe.

Only Mulder's head shifting on her bed caught her attention and broke her
from the spell of that memory, bringing her back to the hospital room,
back to the ache.

A little boy, so tiny and small, not even looking like a baby yet.

She had wanted a boy, wanted a little boy with blue blankets and adoration
in his eyes when he looked at his mother. She wanted to take that baby,
her *own* baby, and put it to her breast and feed him, give him life and
love and laughter, name him Isaac, just as Sarah had named her much
yearned after baby boy the same.

Or maybe Joseph, as Rachel's first son was named, and have the memory of
that shared pain to guide her through the days and nights of his life.

She was weeping now, not hard sobs, but continuous streams of tears that
never seemed to end, never wanted to drain from her completely.

Her hitching breath brought Mulder awake and he looked once to her, then
surrounded her with his arms, and she found. . . she found she couldn't
stop them.

Ever again, she couldn't stop the tears for their baby's death.

Mulder didn't cry, simply held her, let her pain overflow his own, let her
body melt to his.

She shook him off after a minute and smiled softly, then kissed his cheek.
He was watching her with a sleepy look, his eyes bleary.

"Go back to sleep, Mulder."

He needed to sleep, but he wanted to stay up with her, to talk to her
about all the things they wouldn't have a chance to do with their son, but
her eyes were begging him to let her have her peace.

He laid his head back down, hands going back to her waist as if to hold
her in bed.

"I love you, Scully."

She touched his forehead with a finger, then laid back into the bed, her
hands cradling his head.

"I'm really going to be okay, Mulder," she whispered, even though she
didn't feel like it.
~~~~
~~~~

"I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you."
--From "Song To Myself" Walt Whitman

~~~~

She was crying again, crying in his sleep, watching his eyes twitch as he
dreamed, and stroking his hair.

But when tried to wake and give her comfort, she smiled and told him to
sleep again.

It was a nightmare, a horror he did not want as reality.

But as he woke for real, as his eyes opened to see her face, she *was*
crying, she was trying to smile through her pain and tell him nothing was
wrong.

He had to be strong for her, but she wasn't going to let him, she wouldn't
cry to him, wouldn't hold out her arms and say "I hurt."

"Scully," he whispered and traced her tears with a finger, leaning in to
kiss her softly.

She pulled up, making his lips land on her chin as she pushed away her
tears.

"I'm doing all right, Mulder."

He looked into her, deep down past all the warnings she sent out from her
eyes, trying to see the truth.

"I have to. . .I have to get through this inside, Mulder."

Mulder sat back in the chair, pulling his hands from her arms, rubbing a
finger along his lip for a moment.

"What do you mean, inside?"

She ducked her head and gave him a sigh for an answer, telling him without
words that he should know.

"Inside? You mean, you . . .don't want me here?"

Her gaze locked on his chest, an old habit when she didn't want to meet
his eyes, when she tried to pretend that she had to think very carefully
about her words.

"Not that. I just need some time to myself, Mulder. Where I can just purge
it all in-"

"Why can't we talk about this, Scully? What keeps us from sharing all this
pain, all this-"

"Mulder."

He stopped, letting his eyes drop.

"Mulder, I can't be there for you right now, much as I need and want to.
You have to give me time so that I *can*."

His eyes held that wounded animal look as he struggled to keep his face
from twisting with tears, his dark brown pupils narrowing to tiny dots as
he looked away, towards the ceiling.

"Ah. . ." He cleared his throat, angrily wiped the choked feeling from him
with a hand across his eyes.

She was watching him, vainly pleading with him to understand, to let it
go.

"Is that how you think of me?" he whispered tightly, all the knife
twisting, gut wrenching things that had happened just bubbling over.

She opened her mouth to say something but he shook his head.

"Fine. You need space to absorb this. I see, I understand. But I *don't*
have to wait around until you figure it all out, Scully. And I'm not. I'm
sorry."

He stood slowly, waiting with each breath for her to say, <no, wait, come
hold me,> but she said nothing, she offered nothing.

If she wasn't willing to let him stay, how was he to be there for her?

The door was heavy as it swung back, and he felt as if it were kicking him
from the room, telling him good riddance.

She wanted space. 

She'd get it.
~~~~

The fear pierced through her the moment he disappeared from sight.

How could he be walking away from her?

She blinked and turned in the bed, pulling her knees to her chest and
closing her eyes.

How could he? Hadn't she made him promise to *stay with her*?

Scully let out a ragged sob and clutched at the sheets, shivering in the
emptiness. 

The sterile lights shone upon her with stark reality, and as she lay
there, she could only think that this was how it would always be.

This was how it always turned out.

He misunderstood everything she tried to share with him, every instance
she recalled, and every thought that passed through her mind. His own
guilty nature made him take the blame, when all she wanted was a presence
to remind her of all the good.

Just stay by her side, it was all she had asked.

She felt bitter, sick and void, as if a hole had seeped in her, the same
way her blood had pooled on that wooden floor.

She had been drained of something so vital, so life sustaining, that she
wasn't sure she could make it back.

And Mulder had abandoned her to the darkness.
~~~~

The chairs were softer in the waiting room, with padded seats and
comfortable armrests, making it easier for him to fall asleep.

When it became apparent to him that she didn't want him there, that she
thought he was only needy and selfish, searching for comfort, he had tried
to leave the hospital entirely, to go home and sleep.

Something wouldn't let him go.

So he sat there, odd looks coming from all the nurses, maybe even disgust,
because he was out there, and Scully was alone.

She asked for it! he screamed to himself.

She told him, right there, <Mulder I can't have you needing me right now.>

As if that was what he was there for, needing her.

Needing her.

Everything good in him *was* her, was all her love and happiness and
forgiveness, but he didn't suck out her own life to make his. 

She really thought he was there seeking her support and edification. She
really thought he was one huge emotional leech, clinging to her as if he
could never grieve over his loss without dragging her down.

He had tried to be strong! to be right and good and *there* for her, just
as she asked.

God, what the hell was wrong with her?
~~~~

There was silence in her dream, and a hot sun making her sweat between the
folds of her robe, the sand sticking to her drenched body.

As she groaned and bore down, the man came out and watched her giving
birth, his face dull and without emotion, his eyes flickering over the
blood.

It was Mulder, she saw, as he moved from the shadows.

She was Rachel, dying while giving life, her breath not coming, her life
stopping just as the baby cried, long and loud and piercing.

"Name him Ben," she whispered, as Mulder snatched the boy away, forgetting
her forever.
~~~~

When she woke, the dream was still too real for her to make sense of the
silence and emptiness around her.

Mulder had her baby boy.

She shook her head and closed her eyes again, supressing the nightmare
with a shudder, and then looked towards the door.

A nurse chose that moment to bustle in, checking her IV again, making sure
it hadn't come undone, and smiling softly, not too bright, not too fake.
It made her feel a tiny bit better.

"I was wondering. . ." she said, catching the nurse's sleeve before she
could leave.

The woman's eyes turned to her in friendly regard, patting her hand.

"Could you ask my husband to come back?" she said softly, praying that
Mulder was outside, waiting for her to come to her senses.

"Oh, that tall fellow out there? I thought he'd gotten spooked. I'll go
get him."

She turned and swished through the door, her white pants and white lab
coat reminding Scully of far away years when she had been the one to check
on patients, not be a patient herself.

Mulder's head cleared the doorway, his eyes burning through her like coal,
his hands deep in his pockets, his entire body screaming - you hurt me.

She held out her hand and grabbed his arm as he came closer, her fingers
tight around his bone and muscle and skin, as if her touch could imprint
upon him the truth, the reality of her words.

Mulder was looking at her, so forlorn, so far away, that she wanted to cry
again, wanted to bury him  deep into her, so deep he could never be hurt
by her own words again.

"Mulder," she said softly.

His eyes gentled, his mouth relaxed into a slight smile, hands coming up
to take her by the shoulders.

It was her apology, and his own, mixing in the air and forming some sweet
concoction to make her dizzy with it.

He leaned over, hugging her tight and fast, murmuring nonsense that
soothed her soul.

When she pulled back, he traced her eyes with a finger, then palmed her
head, smoothing down her hair into a managable tangle.

"Sleep, Scully. I'll be right here."

Somehow, he understood.

Somehow, her own miscommunication and his own tendency towards selfishness
hadn't gotten in the way of love, hadn't held them too far away.

She closed her eyes and turned on her side, feeling his hands come to rest
on her arm, on her waist, feeling possessed by something and someone far
greater than she.

Dreams slipped by, and she remembered nothing.
~~~~

"Why does she sleep so much?" he asked softly, looking up from the chair
into Dr. Bellcamp's soft eyes.

"It's her way of dealing with it, and her body's way of fixing itself
again."

Mulder knew this, in some remote past life, where studying psychology had
been a means to an end, a way to unleash all the hurt and rage within
himself over his sister's disappearance. That study had told him, reminded
him now even, that grief was everlasting, but mourning had stages, phases
to wade through like steps to recovery.

How could she recover from death? He was finding it hard to see the truth
in all the things he'd studied, finding it hard to accept.

She shouldn't be sleeping all the time, not now. Before. . .the last time,
she hadn't slept for a week.

She gone home, curled up in their bed and refused to move for a few days,
but not this, not the forced smiles with hands flitting to his hair, not
the sleep with rampant dreams, not the look of fear in her eyes.

He nodded though.

He nodded and gave Bellcamp a rough, shaky smile, then looked back to
Scully.

She shouldn't be dreaming, shouldn't be so close to him, and yet never
there.

The lights from the hospital room cast sickly glows across her face,
sitting heavily on her eyes, causing shadows to creep around her nose and
mouth. She was breathing lightly, one hand curled around his forearm, her
fingers ocassionally digging deep into his skin.

Reaching out, he traced her eyelids with a gentle touch, then the fine
birdlike bones of her nose and cheeks, then across her lips, enchanted by
her sleep.

She sighed and arched into his touch, pressing a kiss on the pad of his
thumb.

"Scully?"

"Mmmm....."

He smiled, ran a soft hand through her hair, pulling it from her face.

"Scully?"

In a brief moment, where dreams faded and reality slipped into its place,
she thought he was there to kill her, and she cried out, grabbing hold of
him.

"I like you too, Scully. But not here at the hospital," he joked, easing
her from him with a smile.

He knew she was afraid, but played it down for the doctor standing there,
and the nurses gathered to see her off.

She held to his hand tightly though, letting him ease her out of the bed,
spurning the wheelchair as she protested that she was fine. Not hardly
sore at all.

He let her put up this front, for the others, for Grace watching them, for
her mother holding on to her upper arm. He smiled and waved to the medical
staff, holding her up with a strong grip as she shot grateful looks his
way.

Grace and Mrs. Scully went home ahead of them, in one car, while he took
his time buckling her in, smoothing her hair, arranging her light jacket
under the safety belt.

"Okay, Scully?"

She smiled and squeezed his hand, her eyes changing from nearly panicked
to almost calm.

When he started the car, she put her hand to his on the steering wheel,
clutching it tightly.

"I. . .I can't stop feeling so very bad, Mulder. . .but I know that you're
trying to help me. Thank you."

He closed his eyes as her words brushed his soul, soothed his spirit.

"You're going to be all right, Scully. We just have to get through one day
at a time."

She nodded and turned her eyes to the windshield, watching the birds swing
wildly in the sky, wishing she could be up there, far from all the
deepening empitness splitting within her.

He pulled out of the hospital parking lot in a smooth turn, then pulled
onto the interstate, his hand in hers tightly, holding on as if for all
the world.
~~~~
~~~~

"That nothing walks with aimless feet;
That not one life shall be destroyed,
Or cast as rubbish to the void. . .
So runs my dream; but what am I?
An infant crying in the night;
An infant crying for the light,
And with no language but a cry."
--From "In Memoriam A.H.H." #54, Alfred, Lord Tennyson

~~~~

The car hit a pothole and thudded painfully, but she remained tightly
clutched to his hand, as if the mere touch of him could save her.

She knew that nothing could save her.

Her dreams ran like a kaleidescope before her eyes, colors fading all to
red, blood and death sometimes like black and night.

She closed her eyes and there she was, caught in a tale she didn't want to
tell, struggling to bear a child she longed to hold, as her husband came
through and snatched it from her dying, dying limbs.

There was crying, like a baby boy screaming for his mother, as her dream
dissolved into the blue sky and green lawns and brown homes of the
landscape. She looked up and found the sun, too bright, too right,
climbing the sky like a ladder to the heavens.

"Mulder, I'm afraid."

He looked up, took the exit coming fast along the interstate, found a
place to park in an out of service gas station, the red peeling paint of
the roof like her lips.

"Mulder. . ."

"Scully, what are you afraid of?"

She was looking out the window at the empty gas station, at the ghost
pumps left rusting in the heat, at the dirt blasted against the windows.

"That," she said and nodded to the place that sat before them.

He glanced out, noting the sorrow in her eyes and the stiff arch to her
back, seeing also the empitness reflected from the gas station and into
her heart.

"Being. . .?"

She shuddered. "Nothing. Being absolutely nothing in the whole scheme of
things."

He was silent, considering what to say, how to say it.

"I want to be more than fuel for someone else, Mulder. I don't want this
to be the end of me, not this sadness, not this life that's doomed to
repeat mistakes."

"You think having the baby was a mistake?"

She shook her head after a moment's hesitation, but her conviction was
firm.

"No. I think pretending I'm okay is always a mistake."

He watched her shoulders slump and her cheek lean against the headrest.

"I think so, too, Scully. But you're not doomed."

"I am. I did it even after I made myself not. I did it. I knew how bad
this was going to be, Mulder. And I understood that I was taking a risk. .
.but when I was falling to the floor, feeling as if I'd *die*. . . ."

She trailed off, her face watching his, looking down into his eyes.

"When I thought I would die, I - I. . .panicked. I prayed for God to save
me. . .I didn't even think. . .the baby. . .Mulder, I didn't even think. .
."

He sat there, head cocked, wanting to reach out and touch her, but she was
so closed off, so guarded, that he knew he had to wait for her.

"I don't want to do this again, Mulder. No matter what possibilities there
are in this, I don't want to take the chance."

"The chance that you might die?"

She shook her head slightly. "Not so much that I might die. . .but that
the baby might die, and I with it."

He gave her a smile of relief. "That's not so bad, Scully. I wouldn't want
you to die."

She shook her head again, growing frustrated. "You don't understand.
That's. . .that's wrong. To put my own self above my *baby*. . .like
putting myself above you, above Grace."

He closed his eyes then tried to sort out all her words.

"Scully," he said softly, then looked at her. "It's not bad to know that
the baby has no chance of survival and pray that *you* will make it.
That's not wrong. It's beautiful."

He reached out, thinking she needed his hand to ground her, but she
shrugged it off.

"Mulder, I don't want to die because I was selfish enough to want a baby
that could be miserable the rest of his life. I don't want to die because
I was selfish enough to only think of myself, not what this does to you or
Grace. . ."

He nodded and looked back out at the gas station, the closed down shop
with boards over some of the windows.

"You've no need to be afraid, Scully."

She looked out too, following his eyes to the dirt and dustiness.

"No need. I'm right here. I'll never let that happen."

A police car screamed by, jolting them from their thoughts, causing him to
knock his head into the window as he turned.

She smiled and reached out to smooth his hair, placing a kiss to her
fingers and then to his scalp.

"Thank you Mulder. I know."

Her eyes closed and she suddenly sighed. "I want to name the little boy."

"All right."

"Ben-oni. That's his name. Ben-oni."

She turned to see his lips pursed, his teeth worrying his mouth as he
thought.

"Son of. . .my sad?"

Her mouth dropped, and she pulled his lip from his teeth with a smile.

"Son of My Sorrow. How do you know Greek?"

He grinned. "Sam and I had Greek school every Saturday. I hated it, wanted
to watch cartoons, not practice a language no one spoke. Why this name?"

She shrugged. "It fits."

"That's. . .well, okay. Ben-oni. Ben."

"Our baby Ben," she whispered, and turned quickly enough to see the tear
slip from his eyes.

She reached over and smoothed away the dark circles, the tear tracks, the
stubble from a few days' worth of growth.

"When we get home, Mulder, we'll talk. I promise. We will."
~~~~

Promises were always hard to keep for them, hard things to see through
when not in the thick of all that emotion, all that hurt and pain and
words that needed to be said. 

When they got home, she was able to put it all into a more secure place,
able to slide back into her persona, being Scully and impenetrable.

Mulder was trying to get Grace to take her bath, while shooting worried
looks to Scully and mouthing things to her like <we have to talk.>

She moved from the domesticity of the scene and into their bedroom,
slipping away from the tantilizing images of normalcy and motherhood.
Grace didn't want her anyway, or at least, she didn't want to think she
needed her mother, and so she hurt Scully by that.

Everything hurt now, breathing hurt and sleeping, and the sounds coming
from the bathroom as Mulder got Grace into the bath, a job that, by all
rights, should have been hers. If Grace wanted her to, if Grace wanted
that kind. . .

She sighed and drifted to the bed, trying to forget the depressive nature
of her thoughts.

She had to struggle hard to keep from falling into that deep ache in her,
something she remembered from before. Remembered the constant tug-of-war
her emotions had, the way one look from Mulder could either make her cry
or make her laugh. 

She hated not having control, and with the deaths, with her two dead
babies now, things never seemed to be in her control, all the events in
her life conspired against her.

She let out a bitter laugh and crawled deeper into the covers, masking her
hurts with the soft touch of the comforter, and delighting once again in
the feel of cotton and silk, cool sheets and pillows.

It was a far cry from the hospital room, with its sterile white walls and
ugly bright lights. 

Their bedroom held memorials to fights and loves, to deaths and renewed
committments, and to them together, laughing, crying, talking, and simply
breathing. There was nothing in it that did not call to mind some happier
time, some far away place she had never thought would be left behind.

The bed gave her a smile as she saw his face hovering over her after they
had bought the house, that first morning that they had woken up in this
room, the bright sunshine boldly coming through their window. Mulder had
groaned in the sunshine, and she had watched him get up, move dumbly to
the window, and yank close the curtains. It had been an unsure time for
them, getting to understand their routines, coming to know each other's
bodies. 

She smiled as she thought of it, thought of the countless fights, the way
they never talked on the same level, never could come to agree on a
certain thing.

One night, in the bed she now snuggled deep into, he had really looked at
her, looked right into her with such intensity, such utmost desire and
love that she could feel her soul trembling.

He had never seemed so close to her, never seemed so connected with her
before that moment, and it had taken them a year of disagreement, a year
of finding compromises and discovering quirks. She had relished that
moment from then on, kept it treasured in her heart, took it out at times
to restore her faith in him.

They had completely understood each other at that moment, completely and
utterly felt her soul blended with his. . .transcendant.

She closed her eyes, feeling that intensity creeping into her again,
releasing the tension in her shoulders and limbs.

"Hey," she heard.

Turning, she found Mulder in the doorway, his soft smile arching his
eyebrows and his lips quirked in that same way she had remembered from
that moment.

"Hey," she said back, moving to lay on her back so she could see him.

"Tired?"

She nodded her head, then held out her hand to him. "Not too much. Just. .
.sleep is kind of an escape."

He nodded and sat down on the bed, running a hand along her body over the
comforter, smiling at her with a shy grin that said he didn't really know
what to say.

"Well. . .do you want to have that talk?"

She bit her lip, then shook her head. "Not really. I. . .now that I'm not
thinking about it, I don't want to start thinking of it again."

"I understand. I really do, Scully. But I think it's important that we do.
Some of our problems before kind of stemmed from-"

She pushed up away from him with a kind of undirected anger, more mad at
herself for not feeling ready to talk than at him for bringing it up.

"Sorry," he murmured and stood up, looking away from her.

She started to reach for him, but then dropped her hand back to the bed,
closing her eyes.

How had this come between them so fast, so much already? Hadn't she made a
promise to herself, and to him, that she would be ready, she would be
prepared?

"Scully?"

His breath came quick across her closed eyelids and she shuddered, more
aroused than afraid, and slumped into his arms, away from her hurt.

"Mulder. . .I'm so-"

"Shh. . .I made a promise to you. I have to live up to it."

She pressed her palm to her lips, forcing back a sob, opening her eyes to
meet his.

"You. . .I don't deserve you," she whispered.

He buried his face into her neck, shaking his head a little as he held her
closely.

"I don't deserve you either, Scully. We're even. . ."

She smiled into him and pulled back, wiping at the tears that had begun to
trickle down. His body was pressed into hers with all the repressed and
crushed grief in him, from the very beginning of all they had gone through
to the very end.

"So, let's forget about this for awhile, Scully."

She combed her fingers through her dirty hair, ruefully realizing that she
hadn't had a shower in a week, merely sponge baths and sink hair-washings.

"Forget. . .I'd give anything to forget."

He gave her a slight smile and pulled her up from the bed, running his
hands along her arms.

"I'll show you how to forget."

With a soft touch, he kissed her lips, then trailed his fingers along her
arms, light and gentle, concentrating all his efforts on seducing her, and
seducing her to the exclusion of everything else.

"Where's Gracie?" she whispered, her eyes heavy and lips parting.

"Asleep."

He smiled as she reached up to touch him, but pulled her hands away,
bringing them back to her lap.

"I'm going to make you forget, Scully. This is only for you. . ."
~~~~

[WARNING::::THIS PART RATED R......hey, they're married......You don't have
to read this part to understand the rest at all, if you'd prefer not to
read about the sex...]

~~~~
"these precious things
let them bleed 
let them wash away
these precious things
let them break their hold over me"
--"Precious Things", Tori Amos

~~~~

His fingers were running lines of fire along her skin, like ghost touches,
but so hot, so hot and slick, that she moaned and moved under the sheets.

He held her still for a moment, pressed his lips into her navel, then
trailed his tongue along her stomach, glancing along her breasts and
savoring the taste of her neck.

She writhed, feeling empty and yet burning. Like the bush God inhabited in
the sight of Moses. . .burning and not consumed.

Burning, burning, burning, but not a lick of fire eating through her, not
a tongue of desire lapping her core.

Holy ground. . .he was worshipping her as if she were holy ground.

"I'm going to make you feel alive," he whispered, needing that himself,
begging with his rough voice to find his own release.

She breathed deep, reached out for his hair, to let her fingers glide
through it, to bring control of her body back to herself.

He darted away and licked his lips, tasting her sweat along his mouth,
grit in his teeth.

"Wait," he breathed and disappeared into the bathroom, his legs strong and
lean, muscles taking up her mind's thoughts, lust finding hold in her.

He appeared again, pulling her from the bed, pulling her from her seeming
trance, and she realized she'd been sitting there, losing her mind to hurt
as he had run water in the bathtub.

"Bath?" she murmured, shame creeping along the edges of her vision at her
incoherent state.

He nodded and shut the bathroom door behind them, standing before her in
the semi-darkness, watching her form as she moved like a ghost ship
through the waters of their sorrow.

Then his light fingers made a trail of fire along her cheek, dipping into
the hollow of her neck, flciking her chin with a smile, trying to get her
to communicate with him in a glance.

She sighed softly and her eyes focused on the water, bubbling and frothing
as spray cascaded from the faucet like a waterfall of joy that was in such
direct contrast to her own personal hell that she wanted to laugh.

If she could even remember how to laugh.

He put his hands to her waist, as if to steady her with a touch, but his
fingers tickled along her skin and played with the few curly hairs just
below her belly button.

In one fluid moment, he had stripped her of the navy track pants with
their ice blue racing stripes, his hands tugging at the hem of her light
blue shirt.

"You look beautiful when you're sad," he said softly, but his eyes were
sorrowed, grief stricken as he realized that his words were true. All lust
was dissolved in the aftermath of their baby's death, all he held was this
need to make her come back to him.

If he lost her too, there would be nothing.

She was still watching the water, but she stepped from the puddle of her
pants, holding to his arm with a thoughtless grip.

He ran his thumbs along her stomach, eyes staring intently at her, trying
to get her to look at him again, to see that he shared this grief with
her, to show her that he was going to make her forget.

He would make her forget, if only for an instant.

"Scully," he whispered and she turned, to see such love and adoration that
she could not breathe.

His hands ran up her sides, feeling every inch of her skin, thumbs
brushing over her nipples as his palms cupped her breasts. She shuddered
and closed her eyes, giving him the chance to pull her shirt gently from
her body.

Bare and breathing quick, she stood before him in merely underwear, no bra
or socks, her eyes turned to the water again, as if its continuous tumble
could pull her into another world.

"I'm going to make you alive, again," he said and ran his tongue along her
ear, slipping to that place just above her jawbone that made her melt.

She fell into him then, like every bone in her had crumbled at his touch,
her hands coming up to grip him.

He caught her, holding her tightly to him, then dipped a thumb into the
elastic of her underwear, pushing them from her waist and down her thighs,
supporting her as she let them fall off.

"If. . .if you can just make me *feel*. . .oh God, Mulder. . .just make me
feel," she whispered, and for a moment, his resolve slipped and he crushed
her mouth to his.

She groaned and he pushed her back to the tub, easing her down as she
caught her breath.

"Scully, oh babe. . .I will. I'll make you all over again. All over
again."

He hardly knew what he was saying, only that her eyes were casting about
for a life perserver and all he could throw was his love, hoping it could
keep them both afloat.

Within seconds he had pulled off his own clothes and was easing down
behind her.

The water was hot, steaming, relieving some of the pressure building in
him as he slipped down beneath the bubbles, holding her against him.

"I feel so wrong," she whispered, eyes closed.

A kiss along her neck made her sigh with the loveliness of the touch, and
he lifted a hand to stroke her skin, every inch covered by his sudsy
fingers, every cell caressed with love.

She felt the craziness swirl in her like water down a drain, like a
hurricane in the ocean, twising faster and faster without heed. She knew
it to be the craziness he made come over her, knew it to be the response
of her soul to his love.

"Mulder. . .Why do I feel so wrong?" she whispered.

He shook his head and nuzzled into her, no words needed.

The lamp was out, simply faint sunlight coming through the pebbled window
over the toilet, rays of red and gold shooting through its stained glass
mosaic. She focused on its soft beauty, thinking of Mulder's hands as he
began to set fire to her core.

Reaching out a hand to the soft sponge, his arm came up from the water,
soapy and slippery, almost making her laugh.

In a moment, the laconic mood was gone.

He began rubbing her down, scrubbing her face as he made faces at her,
washing behind her ears with a grin, getting soap into her hair and eyes,
laughing as she fumbled about in the tub for space. It was a claw foot
tub, and not easily holding two adults, but she liked how their bodies
slipped and slid over each other as they groped, finding the soap after he
dropped it, finding things to touch with a smile.

She felt life flowing into her, felt her love burning again, that soft
sigh of her spirit breathing back into her empty lungs.

He managed to finish cleaning her, then made her lean back into his lap,
propped up by his legs above the water line. She rested her head along his
stomach and closed her eyes.

"I'm going to fall asleep like this," she said, whispering.

He grabbed her shampoo and lathered it in her hair, delighting in the silk
feel of it along his legs as he spread it out, manipulating the strands
along his skin.

"Mmm," she murmured, half drunk by his touch, half asleep with genuine
exhaustion.

Taking a cupped hand filled with water, he gently rinsed her hair,
watching the water make rivers down each lock, pooling back into the tub
with a gentle rushing of whispers.

"Scully,"

"Hmm?"

"Conditioner?" he whispered.

Her eyes opened to see the bottle in his hands, white and stark agains the
dreaminess of his skin and eyes and touch. She blinked and nodded,
settling back into him with a slight smile.

He rubbed in the conditioner too, her hair now almost like a coating of
that green substance she'd been in during Antarctica, making him shiver
with the overwhelming things that brought back.

He forced those thoughts down roughly, rinsing her hair, determined to
make her better, make her alive.
Make her Feel.

"Thank you Mulder. . .nice."

He smiled and pushed her back down as she attempted to get up.

"Just stay right here," he whispered, letting her head fall back into his
stomach and her hair spread along his chest in wet clumps.

Within seconds she was asleep and he smiled, toeing the plug from the
drain and pushing it to the side so the water could slip down. 

She remained oblivious as it swirled between her breasts, along her arms,
through her hair and across her thighs.

When it got to her ankles, he noticed she was shivering, goose bumps
fleshed, her eyes moving beneath her lids.

He carefully raised up, cradling her body, then stepped out, gathering the
towel to her and wrapping her in it. She woke slowly, a smile gracing her
lips.

Laying on the bed, she opened her eyes, reaching her hand up to glance
along his cheek.

"I. . ."

He shook his head as she tried to explain what he had done for her, and
merely slipped in beside her, content to sleep.

She turned instead and kissed him gently, softly, letting her teeth nibble
on his bottom lip. He groaned and pushed back with his mouth, working into
her.

She sidled up to him, pulling so that he was on top of her, stretched
along her body like a patchwork quilt of their love, each pattern and
fabric containing every single one of their moments.

"Make me feel, Mulder," she whispered and bit his Adam's apple softly,
like when puppies bite for play. 

He growled low, pit bull, and dived into her mouth again, running his
hands along her, rubbing and kneading, plunging into her with a sudden
ferocity that she felt deep within her, felt climb her throat and scream
through her brain.

There was an explosion of force along her spine and she tightened around
him, eyes closed, finding that she was heightened by the grief, the
extreme emotions that had once been buried in her.

She was crying, he saw and stopped for a moment, but she shook her head
and ground her hips into his, letting him kiss away her tears with
tenderness.

She came hot and fast, twice, in swift jerks that caused her insides to
split wide like a melon, ripe and juicy, her breath fast then gone from
her.

As she contracted around him, he shook his head, pulling up, away, breath
rough, voice hoarse.

"I don't wanna get you pregnant," he whispered, seeing the look on her
face.

She held him down, shaking her head tight, fast, gasping to find her
voice.

"I want you to. . .get me pregnant, again, Mulder. Again. And again,
please."

He groaned and felt himself sliding down into her, but it went on forever
and ever, sliding down and down deep like Alice down the rabbit's hole.

Within moments they came seconds apart, sweating grief out between the
sheets, gasping out forceful breaths of pain and love.

Slumping into one another, they laid there, exhausted, falling back into
promises of dreams and sleep.

She kissed the side of his mouth with a gentle touch and breathed words in
his ear that seared his soul.

"I came three times, Mulder. . .didn't think I ever would after. . .You
made me feel alive."

She pushed her nose into his neck, and he knew what her words meant,
despite their fuzziness. 

After she found out about his affair with Diana, even after everything was
all right again, she had never reached that ecstasy, no matter what he
tried, how he tried, their desperateness to reclaim that again.

"Did I make you feel?" he whispered, fighting off sleep just for a moment.

"Oh. . .yes."

He smiled and let his eyes closed.

"Night. . .Scully."

She eased closer to him, body tight and slick along his. "Good night."
~~~~

Rift 7: Grace

CORRECTION::::
In Guilt, I said they went to Greek school and that the baby's name was
Greek. That was an accident, and I was tired. It's really Hebrew and
Mulder and Sam went to Hebrew school.

~~~~
Grace
~~~~

"I hate elevator music
the way we fight 
the way I'm left here silent
oh these little earthquakes
here we go again
these little earthquakes
doesn't take much to rip us into pieces"
--"Little Earthquakes" Tori Amos

~~~~

When she woke, there was a soul stopping quiet, with only the sounds of a
car passing by outside, the water dripping in the shower stall, a far off
whispering.

She opened her eyes and saw the door securely closed, the blinds pulled
tight against the sun, the clothes piled on a chair. She smiled, knowing
that Mulder had woken earlier and done all of it, his restlessness making
him tidy, and his insomnia keeping him up.

Stretching carefully, she moved out of the bed, sighing.

Her hair was wild and unkempt from sleeping with it wet, and when she
brushed her fingers through it, her hair only curled around her face.

She gathered up her clothes and pulled them back on, carefully moving
around her sore limbs and tight muscles, her blue track pants and shirt
looking dull compared to her pale skin.

She still looked kind of sick.

"Scully?"

She turned and found Mulder standing in the doorway, Grace in his arms and
looking at her with a grin.

"Mommy. Your hair looks curly."

Scully came up to them, putting her arms aound them both and nosing into
Grace's chest.

"Sure does, Gracie. You like it?"

Grace made a face and leaned down to kiss her mother's head, placing her
hands softly on Scully's shoulders.

"Maybe," she answered.

"Better than nothing," Scully sighed to herself, and kissed her back.

Mulder pushed into her and claimed her mouth, traces of their afternoon's
passion in his teeth and lips.

She made a noise and trailed her fingers down his stomach, rubbing his hip
through the sweatpants and shirt.

Moving from the doorway, Scully touched Grace's leg. "Did you have a good
nap, babe?"

"Yes. I slept and slept and slept, Momma. Daddy said you had a nap too."

"That's right," she replied, giving Mulder a grin.

"Did you have bad dreams, Mommy?"

Scully cocked her head and stroked Grace's leg as they walked down the
hall, back towards the kitchen and the dinner Mulder had already made up
for them. Their afternoon 'nap' had really lasted a lot longer than it was
supposed to.

"Bad dreams?"

Grace nodded and leaned toward the sink, making Mulder set her on top of
the counter while he stirred the soup, then checked on their grilled
cheese sandwiches.

"I don't remember any, Gracie. Why do you ask?"

"Mm, I thought I heard you. . ."

Mulder's mouth dropped open, and Scully stilled, looking down at the
cheese melting over the bread.

Grace said nothing more, simply lined their bowls up along the counter,
putting the spoons beside them, playing with things.

Scully gave a sly grin to him and moved to his other side, trailing her
fingers along his arm and making him shiver.

"Cold, Daddy?"

"Just a bit, baby," he replied smoothly and grinned at his daughter,
stirring the soup again.

Grace slid down the counter and went to the table, sitting in it with a
pout as Mulder watched her settle down.

He turned to Scully with a worried look, taking her hand from where she'd
been trying to scrape the cheese off the pan.

"Ah, ah, Scully. Dinner's in a minute."

She bumped him and glanced to Grace. "What's wrong with her, Mulder?"

He frowned. "I don't know. I was just about to ask you."

"How should *I* know? Grace never talks to me."

Mulder gave a grunt and pushed her away, not wanting to start fighting
again.

He ladeled out the soup into three bowls, slipping crackers into Grace's
and handing it to her, along with her cheese sandwich on a plate. Grace
crushed the crackers while Mulder and Scully sat down at the table, her
frown firmly in place.

"Say Grace, Gracie," Scully said softly, trying to get a smile from her
daughter.

Grace shook her head. "I don't feel like it."

Scully bit back a angry reply and instead folded her hands. Mulder sat
quietly while she said a quick prayer, then began inhaling his sandwich
and soup, oblivious to Grace or Scully.

She had only gotten halfway through her soup when Scully noticed that
Grace hadn't eaten anything, and had only picked at her sandwich.

"Grace, you feeling all right?"

Grace laid her head down on the table and sighed, pushing away her bowl
and closing her eyes.

Mulder stopped, looked over at Grace, a flicker of fear in his eyes as he
watched her almost fall asleep on the table.

"Grace?"

"Daddy," she whined, opening her eyes to see him.

Mulder stood, then picked her up, cradling her in his arms and kissing her
cheek.

"Why don't you go back to bed, Grace. . .Get some rest. You'll feel better
tomorrow."

She shook her head and pushed away from his arms. "I don't want to sleep."

"Just rest, baby. You don't have to sleep. You can watch a movie in bed."

Grace nodded and turned as Mulder led her out of the room.

"Mommy?" she said, pushing against Mulder.

Scully stood, coming over to her and kissing her foot.

"Mommy, come tuck me in?" she said softly, as if afraid that Scully would
refuse.

"Of course, baby."

Scully followed them into Grace's bedroom, wondering if her daughter was
simply trying to get her family's attention, or if she really was sick.
~~~~

"Mulder, she just wants attention."

Mulder gaped at her and struggled to pull on his jeans, shaking his head.

"Scully, that's awful."

"It's the truth, you know."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Scully. If she really is sick, we need
to be careful. If she's not, there's no harm in making her go to bed
early."

Scully threw up her hands and pushed past him, coming to stand in front of
the mirror, looking at his reflection.

"Besides," he said, coming up to touch her side. "Grace would never
consent to going to bed early if she wasn't sick."

Scully nodded and kept her mouth shut, knowing that there wasn't any way
to bow out gracefully in this one. She didn't want to start another fight
with him.

"Why don't you go talk to her?" he said softly.

She frowned. "Grace doesn't want to talk to me."

Mulder leaned against the closet doorframe, blocking her way as she pulled
off her shirt, needing something that was free of sweat and dirt.

"Scully. . ."

She closed her eyes and counted, but had to stop when he gripped her arm
tightly.

"Scully, stop that. You can't close your eyes and thinks it'll go away."

She snapped at him, pushing at him. "Mulder, I'm trying to keep from get
angry. Now, let me go, please."

He shook his head. "Talk to Grace, Scully. Promise me you'll talk to her."

"Mulder! She doesn't *want* me!"

Mulder stared at her, mouth open as she lowered her head for a moment,
then quietly pushed on past him, going into their closet and tugging on a
white T-shirt and jeans.

"What do you mean by that?" he said softly, and his voice was hurt rather
than angry.

"Just what I said."

He shook his head and grabbed at her waist as she came close to him,
pulling her down on the bed next to him.

"Scully. . .what about when she came and talked to you about being the
baby? Only you could comfort her. She reached out to you."

"Because you weren't here."

He shook her gently, growling deep in his throat. "Scully, she doesn't
*hate* you. You act like she never says anything to you, like you're going
to martyr yourself for a daughter who doesn't even appreciate you."

She leaned back on the bed, sighing.

"You just don't understand."

"Make me."

Scully closed her eyes and propped her head up with one of the pillows,
feeling more comfortable in the bed's embrace.

He touched her cheek and her eyes opened, seeing his eyes pleading with
her to talk this through.

"She's my sister, all over, Mulder. Melissa and I never got along as kids.
When we were a bit older, we only came together when we had no one else to
turn to. I'd never share my secrets with her, never. And she always made
me into the little kid, the baby, and I never could grow up in her eyes. I
always had to fight to be myself around her, fight to get her to say a
decent word to me. Grace is her all over again."

Mulder reached out and traced a lock of hair that trailed down her cheek
and along her neck.

"I would have said she was exactly like you, Scully. Stubborn and closed
off at times, then bright and beautiful and exciting at others."

With a snort, she sat up, pushing away his finger. "You're distracting
me," she said softly, explaining her shift in posture.

"It's true Scully. She's you all over, not your sister."

"You didn't know Melissa very well."

"I do know you. You're exactly alike. I'm convinced it's the only reason
she likes me so much, Scully."

"Besides being her father."

"I hated mu father."

Scully closed her mouth and looked over to the window. "Mulder, I. . .I
just don't know how to talk to her. She never wants to talk to me."

"She does. She just thinks the world of her mother, can't imagine that her
mother could ever have problems, so why go to her with them?"

Scully felt tears slipping through her iron strong will, and she squeezed
her eyes shut.

"I didn't know how to really talk to Melissa, and I don't know how to talk
to Grace."

"Why don't you at least try, Scully? Before Grace is too old to understand
her parents anymore."

Scully nodded softly and pushed her body into Mulder's, inviting his arms
to encirlce her with his strength.

"I do love her-"

"I *know* you do. I know it. Grace knows it too. She's just too much like
you to ask for help when she needs it."

Scully poked his stomach with a soft smile, then rubbed her cheek along
his shoulder.

"All right. I'll go talk to her. Hopefully, I'll get somewhere."

"You will. I know it."

She nodded and stood, casting a look back to Mulder.

He would have laughed had it not made him feel so sick.

She looked as if she were going off to die, to be ripped apart.

He sat back on the bed, then turned on the television.

His girls needed to do this, needed to talk.

It'd been too long.
~~~~
~~~~

"Why do we crucify ourselves
every day I crucify myself 
and my heart is sick of being in chains"
--"Crucify", Tori Amos

~~~~

Scully pushed her hands deep into her pockets, standing outside Grace's
door listening to Larry the Cucumber of Veggie Tales singing from the
television. Trying to find some kind of courage for this talk her eyes
swept the hall with a faint sense of panic.

Her own daughter frightened her.

The pictures crept along the wall, photos of Grace in their arms as a
baby, one of Scully pregnant, some of Mulder holding his daughter so
tenderly that even now it made her want to cry, and then there was Grace's
birthdays, with her Gramma laughing, and others.

It was a montage of their family, all of them having Grace featured,
centered, the star of the show, the baby. Grace was their miracle, their
entire life, and yet, she was so far removed from Grace, that it scared
her.

She heard a lull in the video, so she hesitantly knocked on the door.

"Yeah?" 

"It's mommy, Grace."

"Come in."

Scully smiled and opened the door, looking to the television as a little
broccoli ran around on the screen talking about God giving 'this land to
us, no need to fuss' and then it changed and she couldn't follow it
anymore.

"Hey, Gracie, how're you feeling?" Scully said, dropping down next to her.

Grace shrugged, looking down to the bedspread and fingering the sheets.

Scully reached for the remote and turned down the volume.

She had no idea how to start with this, no clue how to talk to her own
daughter.

"Baby. . ."

Grace's eyebrows jumped, and she got a guilty look in her eyes, then
licked her lips. 

"Grace. . .are you all right, hon? Do you want to talk about anything?"

Grace's forehead furrowed and she leaned back in the bed, moving to the
pillows, cradling her teddy bear.

Scully moved closer to Grace, but found a GI Joe poking her leg. Pushing
it away, Scully settled next to the little girl, putting her arm around
Grace's shoulders. 

She knew she had hated it when her own mother had forced her to talk, a
lot of the times making her say things she never wanted to share. So she
didn't want to make Grace uncomfortable, didn't want her to think she had
to talk to make Scully feel better.

Grace sighed and hunkered down into the bed.

Scully said nothing, but began stroking her hair and forehead, smoothing
away the frown lines and letting her fingers feel the utter softness of
Grace's skin. It was silky, her hair a mass of tangles after her nap and
her baby cheeks still full and round.

Grace sat up a bit, maybe out of irritability or discomfort, but didn't
try to move away from her mother's fingers.

Scully grabbed her brush from the nightstand and pulled it gently through
her hair, smoothing it out and making it shine. She delighted in the
quiet, at how still Grace was being, at how patient and obdeient.

"I love your hair, Gracie. It's smooth, and thicker than mine, not so limp
at times."

Grace turned her head to see her mother, then moved back to let her mother
keep brushing, her face a mask of confusion.

"But your hair is pretty, Mommy. Daddy says so."

Scully laughed softly, running her fingers through her daughter's hair.

"Oh baby, your hair is so much prettier than mine. Redheads can't even get
angry without someone making a joke-"

"-about your temper, right Mommy?"

"That's right, Gracie. It turns out not to be funny anymore."

Grace giggled and moved a bit, wiggling to indicate that Scully needed to
keep brushing her hair. When she did, Grace sighed and slumped down.

"I like it when you brush my hair, Mommy."

Scully laughed. "I like it when you sit still for me, hon. If you want, I
can brush your hair every night. . ."

Grace turned and gave her a huge smile, something that Scully realized she
hadn't seen in a while.

"Will you?" she said softly, her joy so evident at such a simple thing,
that Scully felt her heart swell.

"Of course, Gracie. Anything."

Grace turned back and moved her shoulders. "Keep brushing, Mommy."

"Yes ma'am."

"Does Daddy brush your hair?" she asked suddenly.

Scully frowned, thinking. "Well, once in awhile."

"Do you not like having your hair brushed?"

"Oh, I love it Grace. Just like you."

The little girl pulled her pillow up to her chest and hugged it tightly,
then laid her head down in the little valley, Scully still able to get to
her hair.

"Why don't you make Daddy brush your hair then?"

Scully shrugged and played the brush along her scalp. "Not sure. I never
really thought to ask."

"Well, I never thought to ask either," she said softly.

Scully paused, thrown by the connection the little girl had made,
impressed by the maturity it showed. Something very unlike Melissa. . .

"I see. Anything else you never thought to ask?"

"No. . .Well, yes. Is the sky the same color to you as it is to me?" she
said suddenly, turning around to face her mother, head tilted.

Scully put down the brush, a little thrill running through her as she
recognized so many elements of Mulder in her daughter, the eyes intense
and questioning, the depth of her thinking.

"My sky's blue. What about yours, Gracie?"

"Blue," Grace said, then shook her head. "But you and Daddy taught me that
a certain color I see is blue. How do I know that it's the same as what
you see? What if your blue is my orange or purple or something?"

Scully's mouth hung open and she blinked.

"Well, I don't think it could be like that. There's going to be some
discrepancies in what we name things, because our eyes may perceive it
differently, but not anything like that. Did you know that light is little
waves that reach our eyes?"

Grace frowned and thought for a moment. "Waves? Like in the water?"

"Close. They're invisible, and they travel in the air, in water, and they
hit your eyes, telling you what colors they are. Like, your blue
pillowcase with the white stars, it puts out these waves that say, hey I'm
blue, or I'm white."

Grace's smile lighted the room and she laughed. "Wow. I know how color
works!"

"That's right."

"So how do our eyes know what that wave is saying?"

"Think about a radio. The radios station sends its waves and then our
stereo here picks up those waves. Well, then the radio deciphers those
waves and gives us music. The same thing happens with our eyes. Our eyes
are the radios, and it sends those waves to our brains, and then our
brains figure out what the waves are saying."

"Cool! You sure do know a whole lot, Mommy. More than Daddy."

Scully smiled and rubbed her shoulders gently.

"Oh, Gracie. Daddy's knows more about things than I usually do. Any other
questions?"

Grace looked like she wanted very badly to say something, but she didn't,
instead she shrugged and buried herself under the covers.

"Do you like Ohio?" she said suddenly, her mouth puckered.

"Well, yes. It's really pretty when it snows, and it's quiet and warm."

Grace's face looked panicked, and Scully gave her a quick hug.

"Why Ohio, Gracie?"

"I'm going to finish my movie. Okay, Mommy?"

Scully recognized her defenses slam shut again, but realized that Grace
*was* a lot like her in that way.

"All right, hon. If you're not asleep, I'll come tuck you in later and
brush your hair some more."

Grace nodded and pushed the volume back up on her television, eyelids
drooping as she watched.

Scully stood back up, feeling better about Grace than she had in a long
time. She had stopped treating her daughter like her sister, or even like
a baby, and Grace had responded to that.

Slipping back outside, she supposed it wasn't really what she'd gone in
for, but at least she had some basis for starting a real conversation,
where they would talk about them, and not about color waves and Ohio.

Mulder was waiting for her in the living room, a grin across his face.

"You peeked," Scully said, noting his huge smile.

He nodded. "Looks like it went well."

"Yeah. It did. I never got around to finding out what was really bothering
her, but maybe later."

Mulder opened his arms and she sat next to him, slipping into his embrace.

"So, what did you talk about?"

He watched her frown, then smile as she remembered Grace's eager
questions.

"I explained how we see color. She thought I was smarter than you."

Mulder grinned. "I assume you set her straight."

"Oh, of course. I explained that sometimes, guys can be a lot less
intelligent than girls, but we shouldn't hold that against them."

He groaned. "You *didn't* tell her that."

"No. I should have though."

"Glad you didn't, it's bad enough living with two women, let alone have
them thinking they're smarter or something."

She shoved him aside as he grinned, then shared the rest of their
conversation with him.

Mulder was frowning as she finished. "She asked if you liked Ohio?"

Scully nodded and shrugged. "I don't know what it means."

"Heaven," he said softly.

Scully's eyebrow rose and her look clearly said <keep talking.>

"Last year, when you were at your mother's and I was taking her over
there. . .with all that I did at that time, and everything going on, we
kind of pushed her away, you know? Anyway, in the car she said that you
were far away, in Ohio, where all the others were."

"Others?"

"The babies that we tried to have before her, the little one that died.
She told me that you wanted to stay there, wanted to stay with the babies,
not her or me."

Scully's mouth dropped open and she sat up, about to go in and say
something to Grace.

"No, no, stop." He reached out and pushed her back down. "Wait. When I
asked her why she said that, she replied that you liked Ohio because it
was all snowy."

"I told her that same thing just tonight. Does she think I'm sad all the
time about the others?"

"I don't know. Maybe that was her way of dealing with our separation at
that time. Maybe she was trying to give an explanation in her own way for
why you two aren't close."

Scully sighed and leaned against the couch again, back in his arms.

"She thought I wanted to leave her behind. I. . .She chose to stay with
you, and yet she still thought I had left her behind."

"She couldn't understand why we couldn't stay together. . ."

"So why is she mentioning Ohio again?" Scully said softly, face furrowed.

"You just lost a baby, Scully. She knows that, sees the sorrow in your
face. . .I guess this has affected her more than we thought it would."

"I hope she knows I'd never leave her."

Mulder pulled her closer to him.

"I think you're going to have to remind her, Scully, even if she knows
deep down."
~~~~
~~~~

"I can feel the distance getting close
you're right next to me
but I need an airplane 
I can feel the distance as you breathe
sometimes I think you want me to touch you
how can I when you build the great wall around you
in your eyes I saw a future together
you just look away"
--"China" Tori Amos

~~~~

Scully wanted to work again, but she found herself at home, making Grace's
lunch for school, picking up the Barbie's littering the floor, saving GI
Joes from the fireplace, and vacuuming the messes everyone made.

Housework was exhausting, but it only made her restless for her job, for
looking at Mulder's back in the rows of desks, for raising an eyebrow as
he spouted lame theories for their newest cases, just to keep in practice.

She missed the sneaking behind Kersh's back as they stole files from the
current heads of the X-Files, then went and investigated them better than
anyone. She wanted to watch the victim's body open before her and let her
discover its mysteries; she needed to feel the scalpel beneath her palm
and know that she was helping to bring down the forces that had caused so
much pain in her life.

She also needed to find the energy to do those things, needed to gather
her strength and her health before going back into the field.

It would be unfair to Mulder to get back into it without having enough
time to grieve, and it would be dangerous and foolish, her own self a risk
to others.

As she dusted off the end tables, noting with a frown that they hadn't
been dusted in forever, Scully realized that she would be going into work
soon, despite everything.

And she also realized that if she was to ever get through to Grace, this
was the time.

Glancing to her watch, she sighed at the time: only ten.

It was a Friday, and over the weekend, she would be trying to convince
Mulder to let her work, let her sublimate her grief into something more
productive than dusting the same countertops every five mintues.

She bit her lip, heading aimlessly to her bedroom, steering for the
closet, finding a pair of jeans and a thin navy blue sweater to wear over
a white T-shirt.

Pulling on the black leather jacket Mulder had gotten her for their first
Christmas, amused because she had loved his so much and stolen it often,
Scully trudged through the halls looking for her keys.

She snagged her shoes and pushed them on her feet as she ran out the door,
excitement building in her.
~~~~

The school office was crowded with sick kids trying to get home and
mothers trying to bring their kids a forgotten lunch. 

Scully slid into the line and waited her turn at the desk, pitying the
secretaries who sat there trying to direct the mothers and fathers and
kids.

There was sense of busy-ness to the place, and Scully found herself
missing the rush of work, the going and going - a feeling that never
stopped, not even when she got home.

As she moved up in line, Scully watched two girls come in, hand in hand,
and make some copies for their teacher, giggling together. She realized
that those girls were exactly like her as a child: teacher's pet, able to
roam the halls and get away with not doing their homework.

She didn't miss those days. She had hated school, especially middle,
although elementary hadn't been so bad.

Strange thing was, work wasn't much different. Still had the same inane
rules, same crazy ways of doing things, and the same group of people who
were 'popular' and snobbish.

The woman behind the desk motioned to her and Scully scooted closer.

"I need to take my daughter out of school for the rest of the day," she
said.

The woman's eyebrows arched. "Do you have an excuse?"

Scully stared her down with her best, 'I'm an FBI agent so don't mess with
me' look and nodded coolly.

"She has a doctor's appointment."

Scully could see that the woman was wondering how a doctor's appointment
could last the rest of the school day, but she merely shrugged.

"What's your daughter's name, ma'am?"

"Grace Mulder."

The woman nodded and went to go page the class room that Grace was in,
leaving Scully to stand there, wondering if this was a good example to be
setting to her child, but not really caring at that point.

She had to talk with Grace, had to get past the walls that were always
between them. It had taken her and Mulder years to be able to share the
little they did now, simply not their nature, but this was her daughter.

She couldn't afford years.
~~~~

Grace came to the office with a look akin to panic, eyes wide as she saw
her mother.

Scully gave her a faint smile and held her finger to her lips, eyebrow
quirking.

The secretary checked her out and Scully signed the little card, then they
were outside, walking quickly to the car, each step one leading closer and
closer to freedom.

"What's wrong, Mommy?"

Scully shook her head. "Nothing, baby. Thought we could go do something."

"During school?"

Scully turned to look at her daughter, eyebrows raised, noting the
disappointed note to Grace's voice, the way her head hung.

"Did. . .is everything okay, Grace?"

"Mommy. . .on Friday's it's *fun*!"

Scully stopped walking, feeling her gut wrench with sick despair.

"Baby. . .I. . ."

"On Friday we get to do chalk drawings and we can talk as much as we
want."

"Oh. . .baby, I'm sorry. You want to go back?"

Grace looked down at the sidewalk, then over to her mother's car, it's
beige-silver doors dull in the dim light, the grey clouds reflected in the
windows.

"No," she said softly, then glanced up to her mother. "What are we going
to do?"

Scully smiled wide, squatting down beside Grace and taking her hands.

"Anything you want to do, Gracie. How about we go to the mall and have
some fun?"

Grace nodded and jumped up, excited and full of energy.

"The mall! Yeah yeah yeah!"

Scully grinned and opened the car door, letting Grace climb in and pull on
her seatbelt. She slammed shut the door and went around to the driver's
side, smiling despite the minor snag to her plans.

When she got settled in, and had pulled the car out onto the street, Grace
looked up at her.

"Why'd you take me out of school today Mommy?"

Scully watched the traffic pass before them, the red light above, hanging
by wires and threads, then wondered why she had taken her daughter out of
school.

"I wasn't really thinking Gracie. I wanted to be with you before I went
back to work."

"You mean, before you don't have anymore time."

Scully licked her lips and turned left, easing onto the major street with
a little nervousness; she always hated turning in front of traffic, ever
since she'd been in an accident with her mother.

"I suppose so, Gracie. Work takes up a lot of time."

"Why does it take all your time? Why can't you be at home like this past
week?"

Scully felt cornered, closed off, and she focused her rising anger on her
driving.

"Baby, Daddy and I need the money from both of us, and work. . ."

"Daddy needs to work, he told me. I guess you do too?"

Scully sighed. "Yes. Yes, I need to work."

"I think I understand. Kind of like when we have summer vacation and by
the time it's time for school to start, I want to go back."

Grace looked out the window with a sort of detached quietness to her, then
over at her mother, watching her.

"That's right, Gracie. Just like you want to go back. It doesn't mean we
don't love being with you, just as you wanting to go back to school
doesn't mean you don't love us."

"Right. I know that Mommy. You don't have to keep explaining things to me.
I just wondered why you like work so much."

Scully shut up, realizing with a smile that not everything came down to
fragile egos and destroyed self-images.

She and Mulder were just over-sensitived to it because of his own
childhood.

"Well, baby. I like work because it's fun. It keeps me smart and
interested."

"Smart? You're really smart so you must work a whole lot."

Scully laughed and glanced over at her. "Well, thanks baby. You're pretty
smart yourself."

Grace let loose with a huge grin and hummed to herself. "Can we turn on
the radio?"

"Sure."

The music was fast and upbeat, and they drove back to the house in an easy
silence, singing softly and smiling.
~~~~

Grace had pulled on jeans and a white T-shirt, carrying a light sweater
with her because of the storm clouds outside. She watched her mother touch
up her make-up with an absorbent look, mouth parted.

"Does this go here?" she asked, picking up an eyeliner pencil and touching
her mother's lids.

Scully smiled and looked at her in the mirror, eyebrows raised.

"Want me to put a little on you?"

Grace's mouth dropped open. "What? Daddy. . ."

"It's okay, Gracie. Not a *lot* hon. Daddy won't mind just for today."

Mulder had a thing about make-up, she remembered, didn't even like *her*
to wear that much because he said it reminded him of bad things.

Whores most likely, but she didn't say that.

Grace looked speculative for a moment then nodded. "Okay."

Scully picked her up and set her on the counter, grunting a bit as her
stomach muscles protested, and her recent complications reminded her of
their presence.

Grace watched her with a worried look, placing her hands to her mother's
shoulders, tensed and hunched beneath the shirt.

"Momma, you okay?"

"Mmm, yeah baby. I'm okay."

She straightened and gave her daughter a smile, then took the pencil
delicately in her fingers, and Grace's chin with her other hand.

"All right, just hold still, with your eyes closed."

Grace's lids twitched violently as Scully got closer, making it impossible
for her to do anything.

She smiled. "Let's give you some lipstick, first."

Grace's eyes opened. "Lipstick?"

"It's light, baby." Scully reached out and grabbed a tube of gloss, a
light peach that would look perfect on her.

Instead of putting on the lip balm, she traced Grace's eyelids, something
the girl wasn't expecting and so she didn't jerk as much.

"Now, we'll put on the gloss, baby."

Grace grinned. "You tricked me, didn't you?"

"I couldn't get close to put it on, hon."

"I know. Okay, now the lipstick. Could I put on some of your lash color
too?"

"Mascara? Um, let's see how this looks first."

Grace nodded and let her mother outline her lips with a faint rim of
color, then fill in with the gloss, rubbing it in a bit to keep it from
smearing.

She smiled at her daughter and pointed her chin to the mirror.

"See, still you, baby."

"I look pretty," she said hesitantly, eye's flickering to her mother's in
the mirror.

"You always look pretty, Grace. All make-up does is highlight what you've
already got."

Grace's face softened and she turned to her mother. "I look like this?"

"All the time, Grace. All the time."

"Cool."

Scully laughed and finished her own make-up. "What do you say we go to the
mall now, love?"

Grace stuck out her hand and took her mother's offered elbow with a huge
smile, taking up Scully's playful tone.

"At once, mother."

Laughing, they ran for the car, slamming the door shut behind them.
~~~~
~~~~

"Everybody feels this way sometimes, everybody feels this way -
And I do.
You can't hear it, but I do."
--"I Do," Lisa Loeb

~~~~

The mall was huge, with a carousel in the middle of the first floor,
spinning slowly in space, like a strange ethereal UFO suspended by
shoppers and children.

There were hundreds of stores littering the sides of the mall, with a JC
Pennys, Dilliard's, Goldsmith's and Sears, along with a GAP, Express, and
some others that Scully distinctly remembered hearing about before.

Grace only had eyes for the carousel, and the large black stallion with
nostrils flaring and mane flying that seemed to leap from its base with
life and power. Scully felt just as impresed by it, thinking that if she
were five again, that would be the one she'd go for too.

They paid three dollars for a ride and stood in line for an eternity,
finally making it to the head of the line, about fifty children jostling
behind them.

The woman cut off the boarders right before them and Grace's face dimmed
as she watched another ride go around without her.

Scully leaned down and hugged her, whispering, "You get first choice this
way, Grace. See, there's already a boy on him right now. You might not
have gotten him."

Grace nodded and cheered up, lifting her chin and smiling, determined to
ride that horse.

When the others filed off, the attendant let them on, and Grace went
running for that stallion, Scully right behind her, hoping she would get
there first.

She found Grace staring at the horse when she got around to the other
side, a boy of about eight already on him, smiling at her.

Scully's heart sank and she leaned against the carousel pole, wondering
what would happen next.

"Are you riding him?" Grace said softly, her eyebrows coming together in a
desperate attempt to keep from crying.

The boy looked down at her and Scully felt jolted by his eyes, the way
they seemed to flow right into the air and down into her soul, and he
wasn't even looking at *her.*

The boy slid down from the horse. "No. I was saving him for you," he said
softly.

Grace's mouth dropped and she glanced back to her mother. Scully shrugged
and thanked the boy as Grace pushed herself up onto the back of the huge
animal.

"Thank you," Grace said softly, hiding her eyes.

The boy nodded and patted the neck of the horse. "I'll ride next to you,
okay?"

Grace nodded again and watched him climb onto a giraffe, clearly a less
noble creature than the black stallion she was perched on. She gave the
boy a huge smile and Scully sat on a sort of half mermaid, half seal,
watching them.

"My name's Grace. What's yours?"

"Will. Hullo."

"Hi."

There was a moment of awkwardness, where Grace looked at the floor and
wondered if the ride would start and Will simply stared at her.

Scully felt shocked; the boy was so. . .familiar to her somehow. So right
that he should be there, talking to her daughter, a whole three years
older than her.

She shook her head and reaized that he looked a little like Mulder, mainly
in the eyes. So sad and soft and intense, with glimpses of a life she
never wanted to explore on her own, but would do so willingly with him.

But this wasn't Mulder, this was a little eight year old boy talking to
her five year old like college guys talked to senior high girls.

She sat back though and merely watched.
~~~~

"Will said I looked pretty. He said he has a sister like me, my age. But
she's gone now."

Scully's lips pursed and she glanced to where the boy had disappeared,
shaking her head.

"Did you find out why he was out of school?"

"His dad was mad at him, and he got hurt so his mom let him stay home. She
dropped him off."

The similarities to Mulder's own childhood were enough to make her want to
get out of the mall, right then, but she shrugged it off and refused to be
spooked.

They started down the mall, waiting for the day to find them.
~~~~

At home finally, exhausted, Scully crawled onto the couch next to Grace,
yawning and feeling her eyes drift shut.

"Mommy, thanks for my new shirt."

"You're welcome. I know it's hard to chose between two things you like. .
."

Grace had wanted another shirt too, but Scully refused to spoil her child
simply because they had a rocky relationship. She wasn't going to buy her
daughter's respect or her love.

"I understand Momma. . . Will you brush my hair?"

"Sure, love. Go get your brush and we can do that out here."

Grace ran for her brush and Scully felt a bit uneasy. She still hadn't
managed to find out what had been bothering Grace for awhile, but she
hoped that their outing had reassured the girl of whatever had been shaky
before.

When her daughter came back waving her brush, Scully took it from her and
laid her on the couch, smoothing the bristles down her long, somewhat
curly hair.

"Thanks, Mommy."

"I like being able to do this for you, baby."

Grace was silent, hypnotized by the rhythmic lull of each stroke, drowsy
from the mall and the smells and the fun, but also still trying to adjust
to a side of her mother she didn't see often.

"Is this because of Ben?" she said softly.

Scully stopped dead still for a moment, then resumed her motions, trying
to feel out the question before answering.

"You mean, did I take you out of school today because of losing Ben?"

Grace nodded.

"Maybe in part. Losing him taught me some things, though. Grace. . .I. .
.I don't get to do a lot with you, love. I want to more than anything, but
I wasn't sure. . ."

"Ben. . .you would've spent a lot of time with him."

"Yes, I would have been forced to. Although not a bad thing. . ."

"When *I* was a baby did you spend a lot of time with me?"

"All the time. I stayed home from work for a few months, Gracie. Then
Gramma took care of you for about four hours while I worked part-time."

"Till how long?"

"Until you were a year old."

"You didn't get to work much because of me."

"Baby. . .I loved being with you. I didn't miss work so much as I do now."

"If Ben were here, would you work?"

Scully clamped down tightly on her grief and continued brushing the girl's
hair, needing to keep part of her mind occupied.

"No. Probably not."

"But you're going back Monday, aren't you?"

Scully felt her heart prick and she merely nodded, knowing that Grace
already knew the answer.

"Mommy. . .would you hate me if I did something very bad?"

"I could never hate you, Grace," she said, her voice so firm, resolute,
that it gave no room for thought otherwise.

"I think I killed Ben," she said in a choking rush.

Scully's hand stopped, horrified that her daughter could think such a
thing.

She pulled Grace up to her, hugging her tightly. "No, no, baby. You didn't
Grace. It's no one's fault what happpened. Ben couldn't have lived very
well with us. He wasn't ready to."

"I did, Mommy. I didn't want another baby, and I. . .I prayed and asked
God to make it just me again."

Scully cradled her tightly, shaking her head.

"Gracie, God didn't take Ben away because you didn't want a baby. I
honeslty don't believe God works like that. Ben was a chance for me and
Daddy. . .and he gave me back my family. I didn't even know I had lost you
guys."

"You didn't lose me, Mommy. You've never lost me."

Scully gave her a teary smile and buried her face in Grace's hair, hugging
her.

"So, do you understand that this isn't your fault, Grace?"

She shrugged. "I asked. . .God gave it to me. Daddy always tells me to be
careful what I ask for. He told me he lost his sister when he was a little
boy."

"Honey, Daddy didn't lose his sister. She was taken. Daddy always thinks
that everything is fault, Grace. That wasn't his fault. This wasn't *your*
fault."

"I. . .I prayed. . ."

"Gracie. God listens to you, but he won't do things that He doesn't feel
is right. He's not going to change his mind because you were a little
selfish."

"You. . you mean that God had already decided to take Ben?"

"That's right, hon."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I can't tell you why. Maybe because Ben wasn't very strong,
and his heart had some things wrong with it."

"Oh," she said softly and looked up at her mother. "Ben. . .I did want a
brother."

"You did?"

She nodded and sucked on her lower lip. "I was afraid you wouldn't have
any time for me at all."

Scully closed her eyes and felt her tears slip down her cheeks. "That's my
fault, Grace. All my fault."

She shuddered and touched one of the teardrops along her mother's skin.
"Daddy has time for me, and he comes home earlier than you. . .but your
jobs are the same. I don't understand. Do you not like me, Mommy?"

Scully dropped her head and held Grace closer to her chest.

"Baby. . .Grace, I love you more than anything, and I am so *so* sorry. I
am so sorry."

"Why does Daddy come home and you don't?"

She shook her head. "We have a lot to do, Grace, and I know that's no
excuse, but *one* of us has to stay. I let Daddy go home because I . . .I
thought you liked being with Daddy more than me."

Grace's face was stricken, her mouth hanging open. "But you're my Mother!"

She looked into Grace's eyes, offering nothing.

"You thought I didn't want to be with you?"

"You didn't, did you? Grace, it's okay if you like Daddy better. . ."

"Why do you *say* that? How could you think that? I just want you to
*love* me."

Scully closed her eyes and pulled Grace into a hug, both of them sobbing
now, heedless of tears or time.

"I love you, I always love you."

"I like you the same as Daddy. . ."

She didn't say it, but Scully remembered her choice, remembered her
running back to her father as she walked away from the hurt.

"But you left me, Mommy," she whispered tightly. "You left. You didn't
even try."

Scully pulled back, indignant. "Grace! I wanted you with me, baby. I asked
you to come with me. Do *not* fool yourself. That was your choice. I will
not feel guilty for that."

"You left me and Daddy! Now, you don't have Ben. How do I know you won't
leave again?"

She was furious, but trying to keep it down, the frightened look in
Grace's eyes making her calmer.

"Grace. That was between me and Daddy. But we're so much better now, love.
Daddy did some bad things, and then I did some bad things, and we had to
get away from each other for a little bit so that we could see how much we
loved each other."

Grace was shaking her head. "You left."

"Daddy didn't want you to come with me. You like Daddy better. It's okay."

"I. . .I thought you didn't like me. So, I stayed with Daddy."

"I asked you to come with me, Grace. But that doesn't matter anymore.
We're okay. I'm not leaving again."

"If you left, I'd go with you, Mommy."

Scully closed her eyes, her heart both crushed and healed in the same
instant.

"Daddy would get lonely," she said softly.

Grace nodded. "So, I guess it's best you don't go."

Scully smiled and kissed her chin. "That's right. I best not go anywhere."

"Is Ben in Ohio?"

Scully laughed and felt the tension drain from her. She wasn't sure if
their problems were over, but they were healing, they were getting closer
to each other.

"Not Ohio, love. Heaven, yes. Not Ohio."

"Oh. Is Ben watching us?"

"He's just a baby, Grace. But maybe."

"I like to think of him watching us. I like to think maybe he knows who I
am."

"Oh. . .I think he knows who you are. Who all of us are."

Scully smiled softly and cradled Grace in her arms, nose in her hair.

"You were a happy baby, you know that Grace?"

"I was?"

"Yeah. You laughed all the time. Daddy said you were laughing at him
because he wasn't very good at changing diapers, or putting your clothes
on you."

"He couldn't dress me?" she laughed and felt a giggle escape.

Scully nodded, smiling with the memory. "He kept getting your head stuck
in the little pajamas, and he never could get the diaper on the right
way."

Grace giggled again and looked up at her mother.

"I bet you did it perfectly."

Scully shook her head with a rueful grin. "Not at all. I was worse than
Daddy. I had to get your Gramma to show me how to feed you right, and what
kind, and even what time."

"No way!"

"Yes, way!" Scully said back, making a face at her. "Gramma laughed at me
too. Mulder, Daddy, said he felt better knowing I couldn't do it any
better than him. I wasn't used to it at all. But Daddy and I both
learned."

"What was my first word?"

Scully sighed and rolled her eyes. "Ghost. Daddy taught that to you. It
was funny though, because you called Daddy 'ghost' for a few months, and
drove him crazy with it."

"I got him back, huh?"

Scully nodded, smiling with her little girl. "You sure did."

They lapsed into an easy silence and Scully played with the ends of
Grace's hair, content to think about her memories.

Mulder's car pulled up, but they both remained laying there, Grace's head
in Scully's lap, and her mother's fingers running through her hair.

When he walked in, Grace was asleep and Scully was smiling.

He grinned and kissed the corner of her mouth. "I suppose after seeing
this, you think I'm going to forgive you for not calling me?"

"Not calling you?"

"Or your mother?"

Scully's mouth dropped open and she jerked, then her hands flew back to
Grace's head to keep her asleep.

"I completely forgot to tell Mom. She's got to be frantic."

"Nope. When she couldn't reach you, she called the school and found out
that you had taken her out for the day. Then she called me."

"I'm sorry, Mulder. I forgot. I was so excited about getting out and doing
something-"

"I understand. So, how's the little munchkin?"

"Tired. But we talked. And it was good."

He smiled and dropped to the floor, leaning against the couch and resting
his head against her knees. She snaked out a hand and ran her fingers
through his hair.

"I'm glad," he sighed. "You needed it."

Scully shifted to keep her legs from falling asleep and then sighed.

"I want to go back Monday."

He gave her a weary look. "Let's not start this tonight. I've had such a
rough day that I'm afraid I'd give in to my selfishness and let you."

"I need to work Mulder."

"Not tonight."

"Tomorrow?" she asked, watching as he turned his head to kiss his
daughter.

"Tomorrow."
~~~~

Rift 8: Glory

~~~~
Glory
~~~~

"It is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory."
-- 1 Corinthians 15: 43

~~~~

She clutched the phone, knuckles white and palm sweaty, listening to her
mother attempt to give her reassurances.

"Dana?"

"I'm listening, Mom. . .sorry."

"Dana, I'm bringing Grace over there."

Scully licked her lips and watched the nurse wheel a cart down the hall,
her shoes squeaking along the tiled floor, lips pursed.

"Mom, I don't she needs to be at the hospital again. . ."

"Dana, you can't keep her out of your life. . .she needs to know."

A woman ran into the emergency room, screaming, her hands bloody, her eyes
panicked.

Scully moved to the side, pushing herself further into the corner to keep
from getting into the way. In the rush of people and blood and fear, she
lost track of her mother's words and found a dead phone in her hands.

Her mother was on her way there.
~~~~

The room was too bright, the glare of lights sharp against his eyelids.
Mulder moved restlessly along the bed, the sheets itching his legs.

She came back into his room and he grinned sleepily.

"Mmm,Scully."

She frowned and leaned down to brush his hairline, her fingers gentle and
cautious.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not too much. Got some stitches and some . . .some. . .pain stuff."

"I see it's working. . ." she murmured, and kissed his cheek. 

The white swatch of bandage was spread across his forehead, taped down
just below his hairline, covering over one eye because the knife blade had
slashed all the way down.

"How's your shoulder, Mulder?"

He winced and wrapped his fingers around the railing, sighing.

"Hurts huh?"

"You could say that."

She worried her lip between her teeth and then glanced back to the door,
as if she wanted to  leave.

"I. . .I'm sorry, Mulder. . ."

"Not your fault," he whispered and moved his good arm to catch hold of her
jacket.

"I was supposed to check the back. I was supposed to do my job."

"It's understandable. I. . .You wanted to get back out there, and I let
you."

"It's my fault, Mulder. . .I am so sorry."

He closed his eyes and sighed, feeling too exhausted to argue with her,
even though she was being unfair to herself.

She had stormed at him, raged the entire weekend to be allowed back at
work, and the very first day, that Monday, she had been caught up in
herself. She had endangered his life with her own sudden onslaught of
grief.

"I'm okay, Scully. You're okay. No problems."

She looked away, her eyes brimming with self-loathing, her fingers white
and trembling along the railing.

"Just. . .just say you forgive me. . ."

He tugged on her jacket, pulled her down closer to him, his eyes intense.

"I forgive you." he whispered and kissed her lips with tenderness.

"It won't happen again," she added and moved back, heart still far away.

He watched her drift to the door, then out to the hallway to wait for her
mother and Grace.

Something was wrong again, he knew. Something had fallen apart that day.
~~~~

Grace peeked into the room, her eyes wide, head filled with the images her
grandmother had been trying to prepare her for.

Her daddy was wrapped in guaze, all along his face, so that she his right
eye was partially hidden from her, his shoulder bandaged too.

"You look like a pirate, Daddy!" she said and bounced into the room, glad
that her father was smiling.

"Really? Cool."

"Can we play pirates when you get home?"

"Sure, baby. I shouldn't be here too much longer. Go ask your mother when
I get to leave."

Grace ran full tilt from the room, yelling for her mother, excited about
how neat her father would look and the ship they could build from the
dining room chairs.

Mrs. Scully took his hand and smoothed his errant bangs, smiling gently.

"Dana's being funny about it, isn't she?"

Mulder gave her a wilting smile. "I can't make her stop blaming herself."

"Well, was it her fault?"

Mulder paused, suddenly confronted with a truth he hadn't wanted to look
at clearly.

"I. . .I. . .She says it was. I don't. . .know."

Mrs. Scully pressed her lips together, then sat down in the chair, taking
up Mulder's hand in her own, knowing that remembering was tough.

"Tell me what happened, Fox. Dana's not saying."

"We were called out by Kersh because lately, I'd been doing some X-Files
on my own, while she was on leave, and he was reaming me for it. So we got
stuck on surveillance. Well, the subject started moving, so we radioed
that in and followed discreetly. He went to some. . .I don't know, I think
it was a girl's club. Scully told them out position and everyone went kind
of beserk. There's a restraining order on this guy for one of the dancer's
and he was there and so they wanted us inside quick."

Mulder paused, pushing a finger inside one his bandages, snaking his nail
along an itch over his eyebrow, wincing when it caught on stitches.

"So we run in there, she goes to the back, and I told her. . .I told her.
. .I want you back there. I want you to stay back there with the girl.
See. . .ah, well. I sort of know the layout of this place, please don't
ask me why. . .and she sort of looked at me. I could tell what I said was
a shock, that I'd know where the girls were, but she went around back,
through the stage door. I busted in the front."

"Fox. . ." Mrs. Scully said softly, shaking her head. 

He gave her a sigh and leaned back. "We got there and I saw her right
behind me. . .or maybe she came through, I don't know. Maybe she couldn't
find the girl, but she was right behind me. And as I was looking through
the dim light, I had my gun drawn low so no one would tip him off. I was
thinking, he's out front, he's out front, Scully's got the back. I. . .I
don't know. He was suddenly just there, that knife flashing right in front
of me. . .I couldn't move. Scully behind me and I knew I *couldn't* move
or it'd get her, so I just stood there. I dropped. I think she shot him."

His shoulders slumped, he closed his eyes, pushing away the images of a
blade slashing, of seeing Scully's bright red hair behind him, of the
man's face, grinning.

"Fox, was it her fault?"

He looked over at her, keeping his face blank, impassive, unreachable.

"I don't know. If you're asking me was Scully where she was supposed to
be, then I can't answer that. Only she can."

"It is my fault," came a loud, strong voice.

He looked up, saw her there in the doorway, eyes wavering, lips parted as
she breathed in the air of her body's betrayal.

"Scully."

He didn't sound surprised, nor did he sound guilty for talking about her.
He had thought she might be there, he could almost feel her.

"I didn't go to the back. You said it and I couldn't. . .couldn't go back
there, not and be so close to what. . .what almost tore us apart. . ."

"It doesn't make another man's actions your fault, Dana." Margaret stood,
approaching her.

"Yes mother, it does. I didn't do my job. I got caught up in personal
pettiness."

Mulder held out his hand, face in such a concentrated mask that she felt
sure he was willing her to lace her fingers through his, reaffirm their
connection.

She couldn't do it.

His hand dropped to the bed.

"I forgive you, Scully. . .all those times I've been nothing. . .nothing
but awful to you, and you forgave me. I can do no less."

She looked off to the side, then the moment was broken by Grace running
through with a battered piece of cardboard in one hand and a hastily
scribbled map clutched in the other.

"Look what Mommy helped me make! It's a map of the world, and I drew the
continents all by myself, with their names, but Mommy wrote those in and
told me how they were supposed to look."

Mulder smiled achingly at her and glanced to Scully, a hint of hope in his
eyes.

"What else do you have there?"

"A sword. The big man down there gave it to me."

Mulder looked to Scully and she nodded, showing that Grace hadn't met some
wacko intent on giving people diseased ridden toxic waste or something.

Strange how his paranormal theories manifested themselves when concerned
with the saftey and health of his daughter.

"All right. Does that mean we get to be pirates right here?"

"Yup. And Gramma can be the princess that we capture and Mommy can be the
good prince who comes and saves her. I would make you the prince, Daddy,
but you're stuck right now, and your bed has to be the ship. K?"

Mulder grinned despite the pain that action shot up through his head, and
patted the bed.

"Sounds good, baby."

Grace got up on the bed and pointed her sword in the air, then paused.

"Wait, I have a better idea. Gramma and me can be pirates, and Mommy is
the princess who saves Daddy from us big tough mea guys. That way you can
kiss when Mommy rescues you, Daddy."

Mulder's eyebrows shot up and Scully smiled softly, still standing in the
doorway.

"Come on, Mommy. Play with us. You have to be in a sword fight with Gramma
first," she said, then lowered her voice. "You beat her, Mommy. Then you
have a fight with me and it's longer cause I'm a better pirate."

Grace said this in all seriousness, as if she was discussing a sensitive
subject and didn't want Mrs. Scully to know.

Scully moved in closer, then glanced to her mother. They both shrugged.

Mulder laughed. "Ah, just what I like. Women fighting for me."

Grace leaned back on the bed and pushed his good arm. "Sh, Prince. You
gotta be quiet or. . . else!"

Mulder laughed, then began choking on the effect of pain and bruises, and
had to have Scully hold his head so he could stop hurting, and Grace
stared at him in horror.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm sorry. I didn't know I'd hurt you."

He shook his head. "I'm all right, baby. Just fine. You made me laugh, and
I need to laugh."

Grace seemed mollified and Mulde caught his breath, giving Scully's
fingertips a kiss.

"You'd better come rescue me, Princess," he whispered, just as Grace began
directing everyone in play again.
~~~~

She was smiling, laughing, watching Grace's fanciful dance along Mulder's
bed as they mock fought a glorious battle.

He liked staring at her, loved the wide, full lips as she laughed, the
glint of superior intelligence behind her eyes as she took in her
daughter's elaborate dance.

Suddenly Grace clutched her chest, her face so stricken, so deathly pale,
that Scully froze, the room chilled, life swayed in the balance.

She sucked in a breath and Scully jumped forward, arms out for Grace, fear
etched plainly on her face, but only plain to him, as he watched her so
intently.

But Grace made an obviously faked choking and gurgling noise and swaggered
all over the bed, tripping over his feet and hanging her tongue.

She was playing the pirate to the hilt, making veiled threats as Scully
stood back, letting her heart slow to normal, her adrenaline work out of
her blood.

When the pirate's death throes were over, Scully moved in to Mulder with a
smile, ready to kiss him.

Grace made a few more gagging noises, just to let everyone know she was
still the star of the show, and Scully smiled, a quirk of a thing, like an
afterthought.

Mulder leaned eagerly forward and licked his lips.

"Ah, you saved me, Princess."

Scully leaned in and brushed her lips across his, quick, light, and
chaste, but carrying enough promise that he shifted in the bed and choked
on a cough.

"Where's the rest of my kiss?" he whispered, frowning.

"Now, that wouldn't be proper for a princess, Sir," she replied letting
her eyes talk for her.

He nodded and poked at the heap of a girl on his bed with his toe. "Your
production's over, Gracie. You did a great job."

She bounced up, beaming, and Gramma began to applaud her, causing Mulder
and Scully to follow, he rolling his eyes.

"As if she needs a bigger head," he muttered, as Grace began bowing.

Scully poked him and reached up to give Grace a kiss. "Good job, baby."

"Thanks, Momma. You're a good actor."

She looked to Mulder, and her entire body seemed to still, in fright or
fear or horror, Scully wasn't sure, but she turned too.

She swallowed hard and licked her lips. "Come here, Gracie. I'll take you
to get a drink."

Grace went into Scully's arms and then down to the floor, clutching her
mother's arm with a death grip as they walked out of the room, Grace
talking about getting a Coke and Scully shaking her head.

Mulder hoped Scully wasn't going to give that girl any more sugar.

Forget caffeine.

"Fox?"

He glanced over to Mrs. Scully, smiling at her. 

"Ah, children can always heal the soul," he said softly.

She nodded, then pointed to his arm. "I think that's why Dana took Grace
out."

Mulder glanced down to his bandaged shoulder and found an enormous blood
stain spreading across, and now that he saw it, he could feel it too.

It was making him just a little dizzy.

Just as he glanced back up to her, a nurse rushed in, a doctor quick on
her heels, both their expressions grim.

Mrs. Scully backed out of the room so that Dana could come in, and he felt
her take his hand before she left.

Scully sidled up next to him as they cut away the bandage.

He glanced to her, not sure why they were frightened, not sure what was
going on.

The doctor looked at his stitches and made a face, her eyebrows peaking as
she pointed something out to Scully.

"We're going to have to start you on some antibiotics, Mr. Mulder," she
said softly.

"Why? It's just bleeding a little."

"We're hoping that's all. But it could be the beginnings of blood
poisoning, and being so close to your heart, we need to catch it and treat
it now."

Mulder's mouth dropped and he looked to Scully.

She was crying.

He touched her shoulder, but she shrank away, so he grabbed her roughly,
pulling her body down close to his, unhindered by the railing because it'd
been pulled down as they worked on him.

Her ear was close to his lips; if he stopped breathing, she'd know it
immediately.

"This is *not* your fault, Dana Scully. This isn't you fault," he
whispered thickly, kissing her forcefully, as if his ferocity could make
her understand.

She nodded against his shoulder and said nothing, but her tears stopped
quickly.

The nurse got a kit from outside and came back to start an IV of
antibiotics, her method efficient.

"I'm going to be fine," he said and traced his fingers along her lips.

She kissed him along the pad of his thumb and moved away.

"I'm going to go get Grace. She was a little frightened."

He nodded and watched her leave, watched her fade away into herself again.

Watched her disappear.
~~~~
~~~~

"May the angels protect you
And sadness forget you
Little star
There's no reason to weep
Lay your head down to sleep"
--"Little Star" Madonna

~~~~

Grace was taken home with Gramma, so she could sleep in her own bed and
get up the next morning for school. She said good-bye reluctantly and
kissed her mother, but was too afraid to touch her father.

She was wondering if she brought death to everything she touched.

Her grandmother bustled her inside and hung up her backpack on the peg
next to the front door, then sat her down on the small bench in the foyer
to take her shoes off.

Grace held her balance by clutching Gramma's shoulders, and she looked
around at the pictures placed along the walls. They were happy photos,
with her and her parents and her Gramma, and then some with Uncle Charlie,
and one of her cousin  Matt. He was way older than her, and he liked to
boss her around.

She held up her chin as her Gramma cleaned her face of the sucker she'd
had at the hospital, then took hold of the elder woman's hand as they
walked in to the bedroom.

"Are you ready for bed, Gracie?"

Grace nodded, liking how Gramma said her name just like her mother did.

There was something different about how her mother said things, than from
her father. Momma had a funny accent to her voice, where her 's' sounded
warm and rolling, and Grace liked the way her name sounded with her
mother's tongue. Her Gramma had some of that too.

Like a kind of softness.

"Let's find some jammies, huh, Grace?"

Grace went to her drawers and pulled out the bottom one, where her
underwear and pajamas were kept in easy reach for her, and draped her
Superman pants over the edge.

"Are those yours, Gracie? Superman?"

"Unh-huh."

Grace let Gramma whisk off her T-shirt, then her jeans, and she wriggled
into her Superman pants and the top with the broad 'S' across the chest
and the red cape.

"Feel like being a little more super tonight, don't you Gracie?" 

Grace's tiny chin quivered, just as Dana's had as a child, just as
Melissa's had, and Margaret held out her arms to her granddaughter.

The tiny body crashed into hers, tears falling freshly from bright eyes,
and Grace held tightly to her grandmother's hug.

"Daddy's bleeding!" she said, sobbing.

"Oh, baby, Daddy's going to be just fine. Just fine."

Grace sniffled and pulled away, her storm of tears quickly over, and her
chest puffing.

"Daddy'll be fine," she repeated, as if to make herself believe.

Then she crawled into her bed, and pulled up her covers, eyes squeezing
tightly shut as if she could will away her bad thoughts.

Gramma leaned down and kissed her forehead, just like her mother did, and
then smoothed back her hair.

She prayed with her grandmother, and she begged God to make her daddy
okay.
~~~~

Scully felt a touch to her shoulder and glanced up, confused.

A nurse stood in silhouette by the doorway, a gentle hand hovering over
Scully's sleepy body. 

Blinking, Scully looked first to Mulder, but saw he was asleep, stable.

"Dana?" the lady said, her face questioning. "Your mother's on the phone."

"My mother?!"

Scully jumped up and followed the nurse out of the room, down the hall, to
the desk, snatching up the phone and hurriedly answering.

She heard wailing.

"Dana? Grace had a bad dream, and I can't get her to calm down. She's
asking for you."

"Me?"

Scully stood there in shock, thoughts in a swirl of sleep and confusion
and hurt for her daughter.

"What's going on, Mom?"

"She had a nightmare. Could you come-?"

"Oh, oh, of course. Wait, put Grace on."

Scully fiddled with the phone cord as she heard the sobs get louder, and
she realized her mother must be going crazy. Her mother could always
console children; she just had that touch with the young.

"Mommy?" came a warbled voice, hitching with tears.

"Oh, baby. Are you all right?"

"I had a very bad dream. I want you, Mommy."

Scully closed her eyes to her own tears, and felt her body slump against
the counter.

"I'm coming, baby. I'll be there, all right? Are you going to be okay
until I get there?"

"I want you," she whispered.

"I'm coming. Hang up the phone now, Gracie. Okay?"

"Okay."

The line clicked dead in her hands and Scully felt a faint smile for her
daughter's phone manners. Just as bad as Mulder.

Running back to his room, she gathered her keys and wallet, stuffing her
shoes on again. Mulder was still asleep, but she didn't want him waking
without her there.

She touched his forehead and placed a gentle kiss along his brow, rubbing
his skin with her fingers.

His eyes flickered and he was awake immediately, despite all the pain
medication they'd given him earlier.

"I've got to go, Mulder. Grace had a bad dream."

He nodded. "Does she want to come up here, with me?"

Scully felt a tiny thread of shock course through her. Even Mulder
expected Grace to want him first, for everything.

"No. No, she wants me to come for her."

His eyes opened wider, and he smiled briefly. "Good. . .I'll sleep."

She let her lips glance his cheek, then his mouth more intently. "I'll see
you."

He nodded and his eyes slipped close.
~~~~

When she walked in the door at midnight, a little body flew into her legs
and clamped there, not letting her move forward or back.

Scully pried Grace from her and held her tightly, slamming the door with
her foot.

"Gracie, Gracie. What's wrong, honey?"

"I had a bad dream."

Scully circled her arms around Grace's waist and picked her up, nestling
her close to her body.

Margaret Scully came in from the kitchen, holding a glass of warmed milk,
her eyes weary and body slumped.

"Sorry, Mom." Scully nodded softly and kissed her mother, all too aware of
the way she had treated her mother as a child. Dana had been a Daddy's
girl, just like Grace, and the knowledge of that kind of hurt always made
her pause, made her want to make it up to her mother.

Margaret hugged her gently and gave her the glass of milk, then headed
back to the guest bedroom down the hall.

"Well, Gracie. Think you can make it back to sleep?"

"No."

Scully smiled and sat down in the rocker placed in the corner of their
dining room, its rickety frame squealing at the added weight.

She cradled Grace against her chest, just as she'd done to her as a baby,
and pushed off with her feet, humming softly.

The milk was still warm so she handed it to Grace, who drank some of it
and then made a face.

"I don't like it warm," she said.

Scully placed the glass on the dining table and held her daughter tighter,
both of them rocking in silence for a few minutes.

Then Scully placed her cheek on Grace's smooth hair, sighing.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"It was a dream."

Scully let it go at that, knowing how hard it was to open up entirely,
especially when you didn't want to seem vulnerable.

"Once, I had a dream about your Daddy. I dreamed that he came and sat down
on the couch with me, but he as he started talking, snakes came out of his
mouth," Scully said, starting in.

Grace was staring at her in shock. "Snakes?"

"Yeah. It was pretty scary. It made me afraid. I woke up and Daddy was
right there, asleep, but I couldn't touch him. I was too afraid."

Scully glanced down at her daughter, giving her an encouraging smile,
rocking them gently.

She remembered how very real that dream had seeemed, how it had made her
want to cry, not because she was afraid of snakes, but because her
subconscious was trying to tell her something she didn't want to hear.

Two days after that, she and Grace had walked into that bar, looking to
surprise him, and she'd seen the woman with him, kissing him.

Dreams had a way of knowing before you did.

Grace shivered and laid her head against her mother's chest.

"I don't remember my dream, Mommy. It was bad."

Scully nodded and continued rocking back and forth, rubbing Grace's back
with a slow hand, watching her lids drift and shutter her eyes.

"If I stay until you fall asleep, do you want me to stay here, or can I go
back and see Daddy?" she whispered softly.

Grace murmured against her and then her eyes opened wider. "Don't want
Daddy lonely."

"All right, baby. Sleep."

Grace's eyes slammed shut with her mother's words and Scully could already
feel her breath vibrating her body.

She sat there in the dark, the moon coming in through the far window, the
night falling down around them, offering better dreams and pleasant
warmth. Her daughter was a wonderful heat along her body, curled into her
like a baby, long lashes framing a sweet face.

Scully watched her hair silver in the moonlight, and her body rise and
fall with each breath, the way her fingers twitched around dreams, and her
legs hung loosely over the sides of the rocker.

She was beautiful, and she had wanted her mother.

Scully held her tighter, treasuring the peace in her heart, pushing it
deep into her, branding the touch and the scent and the moment forever
into her soul.

Grace's mouth was opened, lips parted, face slack, arms curled tightly
around her.

Scully sat there for just a moment longer, then stood, heading for the
stairs.
~~~~
~~~~

"Don't be scared of what you'll find when you turn the light on.
Ain't nobody gonna say good-bye, ain't nobody gonna walk away. . ."
This time baby I'm learning how to love you. . ."
--"Like I Love You," Amy Grant

~~~~

"Mm, Scully wait, where are you going?"

She turned and the room was dark around her, the blinking of her lids like
the ticks of a clock, of his heart beating too loudly in his ears.

There was a rush, a surge of something like wind across his face and he
felt frozen, fixed.

She crouched beside him, the dirty floor of the room staining his suit,
her eyes like swimming pools on a merry-go-round, dizzy and frightening.

He clawed at his face, the burning edge of fear deeply fueling some far
away rage.

She captured his hands and shook her head and she was talking to him,
mouthing something that he couldn't understand, and the room was too dark
to see clearly.

She shook him, and he gasped, wanting to scream as blood poured from his
face in rivers, like the Red Sea parting before her touch, like waterfalls
of gushing life choking and gurgling to the floor.

He grabbed her elbow, but his fingers slipped off, slick with blood.

He stared at his hand, red and red and red, and red. . .red. . .red. . .

It was all gone, all gone.
~~~~

She clutched at his hands, pulling them from his face, her eyes desperate,
panicked.

He was clawing at his stitches in his sleep, aggravating the wounds, the
blood trickling down the side of his face in tiny little creeks.

"Mulder!" she yelled again, shaking his shoulders, even as she kept his
hands from reaching his face again.

In his dreams, he opened his eyes, stared at her, at his hands, and began
to sob. . .

sob. . .

she choked and pulled his body up into her, smoothing away the tears with
a touch, soothing his fears with her presence.

He woke fully, pulled his head from her neck, gaped at her a bit.

She realized she'd been crying too, her own sorrow melting and mirroring
his.

Wiping her face, she pushed back on the bed, glancing critically at his
stitches.

"You had a dream," she said softly, as if that was the only explanation
needed.

He raised a hand to his forhead, then touched his eyebrow, wincing. "Did I
pull these out?"

She nodded and reached for the nurse's call button, thumbing in on with a
flick of her wrist. The light outside his room would brighten and a buzz
would sound at the nurse's station, accompanied by another tiny light.

He came away with blood on his fingers and stared at it for a moment.

"I. . I'll understand if you want me to leave," she said softly.

He shook his head, still not ready for conversation, or even for smiling,
but he needed her there.

"Stay here for a bit. Make sure the nurse stitches me up right."

She sighed. "I meant. . .at work. I'll understand if you want me to leave.
I. . .you need to trust your partner, Mulder. . .and-"

He snared her wrist with a quick hand, shaking his head enough to irritate
the open wounds along his hairline.

"You need to trust your husband too, but even when you couldn't you didn't
make me leave, Scully. I'm not letting you go. Not ever."

"I. . .I was supposed to be in the back, Mulder. All this is because of
me! my mistake."

"Mistake, Scully. A mistake. We all have them. If you want to start
talking about guilt, we can do that, but I'd rather talk about getting
past this."

She shrugged her shoulders, as if cringing under the weight of a burden.
"I don't know how to make you understand. I see you Mulder, I see all
those little nuances of you right there, in your eyes, your movements. And
all those things are telling me that you can't trust me anymore. . .I
failed you Mulder. You could have died."

He quit trying to argue with her, too exhausted to think of good
responses, something other than--but I love you, I need you. That never
seemed to work with her. Scully needed proof, solidity, something to take
in her hands and understand.

He just didn't have the strength to figure out what could do that.

"You wouldn't have let me die, Scully," he said in a sigh, his eyes
drifting shut.

A male nurse making his rounds came in just then, dark eyes brooding as he
looked at Mulder's ripped stitches, the blood.

"We'll get that cleaned right away," the young man said, taking his tray
and pulling on gloves.

Scully watched him butterfly bandage a few parts, additional skin that
Mulder had stretchedin his sleep, and then he carefully made tiny stitches
along his eyebrow.

After some intense, concerted minutes, everything was cleaned and sutured
and Mulder was given some more pain  medicine, to his groaning delight.

She said nothing until the nurse left, when she sat back down on his bed,
cradling a hand in hers.

"Mulder, I feel that this is my fault. You told me exactly what -"

He grunted and pulled his hand from hers to sit up better, then snatched
her fingers up in his palm.

"Look, Scully. It's your fault. Okay? I said it, it's your fault. You
should 've been doing your job."

Her mouth dropped and she stared at him, finding tears rise swiftly in her
eyes, her heart stilled in her chest. A hand crushed her lungs and a choke
came from where her voice was supposed to be.

He shook his hand and pulled her into him, gently, gathering her body to
him as if collecting the pieces of her scattered soul.

"See? You don't really believe it. You don't. It wasn't your fault,
Scully, not at all. If you truly believed you were totally to blame, you
wouldn't have felt like that."

She was still in his arms, stiff and unresponsive, and he wondered for a
moment if he should have even said it to her.

Then she laughed bitterly, but a healing laugh, echoing through her veins
and chest until she was crying from laughter, from her own stupidity.

He grinned and rocked, until she pulled back and glanced at his smiling
eyes. Then she leaned in and kissed him, lips twitching into his mouth,
fingers working at the gown across his chest.

Pulling back, she was grinning, smiling, a newer and better woman, somehow
exonerated of everything she'd been guilty of before, of *every* instance
of failure, of every moment of rebuff.

She wanted to go get Grace, have them all there to celebrate the
wonderful-ness she felt, the way she had finally found, finally come to
realize that she *was* a part of this, she was in this family.

She was needed, loved, trusted. And sometimes wrong, ignored, forgotten.

But things were better, things got better, life happened and then it
didn't.

Mulder caught hold of her shirt hem and tugged, a wicked grin flitting
across his bandaged face.

She smiled. "I've got to go, Mulder. Grace is out of school in about an
hour. . ."

Mulder looked dispppointed, but he was pleased to see his little girl.
"Remember, my blue basketball pants, Scully. Not the black ratty ones."

She nodded. "Got it. Grace and I will come back only with the blue pants,
and get you out of here."

He grinned and leaned in for a kiss good-bye, then waved as she left.

Looking at the closed wooden door, the stillness of the place seeped into
his thoughts and he wondered where her change had come from, *what* her
lightened mood had come from.

She was renewed, eager, smiling. . . he hadn't seen her smile in so very
long.
~~~~
~~~~

"Every road that's travelled, teaches something new,
and every road that's narrow, pushes us to choose,
And I'd be lying if I said, I had not tried to leave a time or two,
But every road that leads me
Leads me back to you."
--"Every Road" Amy Grant

~~~~

She was lying on  her stomach, watching him breathe in soft pants, his
ribs bruised from the previous case, the small scar just above his eye a
stark white in the darkness.

In the muted glow of light coming from under their door, she watched his
hands twitch and she wondered about what he was dreaming.

Grace was in the living room with her grandmother, talking softly for a
change, and not yelling at the top of her lungs as she ran from room to
room. Scully had already come out once to tell her to be quiet; maybe she
had gotten the hint.

Letting out a soft sigh, she pushed herself up on the bed, ready to go
back out there, to make dinner, clean up after Grace, be a mother.

Mulder's arm sneaked around her and pulled her back down, his eyes
opening.

"Were you going to just leave me?" he said, grinning.

"Yes," she said and shrugged, eyebrow quirking.

"I don't think so."

He snuggled into her side and let his breath explode out, ruffling her
shirt.

"Scully. . . ."

"Uh-oh, I hear a serious talk coming on."

He snorted and raised his head up, looking at her, hair falling in his
eyes.

"You know. . .I never really thanked you," he said, i awe.

She glanced to the side, then back at him, confused and bewildered. "For
what?"

"For giving me all that I have. All this," he added, nodding gently.

"Scars and bruises?" she said softly, mouth parting in weariness.

"That too. But mainly, you. You. . .I didn't even ask you. . .and you just
agreed."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to, Mulder."

"I was pretty arrogant, though."

She grinned. "Yes, you were. I think it's cute."

He batted at her hand, pushing it from his lips. "It's not cute, it gets
me in trouble. I assume things will fall into place. That's why we
practically eloped. I wanted to give you a beautiful wedding, Scully. . .I
wanted to give you so much. . ."

"I've got all I need," she said, pushing away his sudden melancholy with
her smile.

"If you really do. . .then why all of this?" he whispered, hands running
along her stomach.

She laid her head back down, closed her eyes. "I don't know. . .for you,
for me. I was being selfish, I think. I wanted something all my own. . ."

"You've got me, Scully. All your own."

She opened her eyes. "I didn't before. . .whose to say it could never
happen again?"

His eyes stung, and he pulled away from her, laying back on the bed. "I
say. I say it could never happen again. I was stupid and empty. . .I . .
.I don't know how to make you believe."

She bit her lip and rolled over to see his face. "Oh, Mulder. I do
believe. . .I just want this to all go away. I don't want to think about
Ben, or how I almost got you killed, or how we almost fell apart. . ."

He watched her for a moment, then lifted his head to kiss her, gentle,
soft.

"It's okay. We don't have to think right now," he whispered.
~~~~

"Gracie! Phone's for you, baby."

Grace ran up to her father and snatched at the phone, excitemet and
curiosity on her face.

Scully watched her talk, and smiled to Mulder. "I see more of Melissa in
her right now. . .such a social thing. . ."

Mulder gave her a mock glare. "Are you insinuating that I didn't have a
social life as a kid?"

She grinned. "I'm not insinuating anything. . ."

He laughed and shook his head. "I remember the first time you said that. .
.to the county coroner on our first case. . .he was pretty upset over us
digging that boy up."

Scully glanced back to Grace and then sat down at the table with him,
taking his hand.

"I remember. I was excited about working with you, about trying to figure
out this puzzle."

He looked over at Grace, who was smiling and nodding, twisting the phone
card in her fingers, looking so much like a teenage girl that he shivered,
mind shuddering away from that idea.

"You laughed," he said softly, lips curling.

"I could hardly believe I was there. . .hours before I would have turned
and run from you."

"You didn't run. . ."

"No, I didn't. There've been times when I wish I had run, but I never
did."

He licked his top lip, then rubbed a hand down his cheek, sighing. "I'm
glad you didn't, Scully."

She smiled and was interrupted by Grace's giggling. Looking over, she saw
Grace drop the phone to the cradle and come running, her face a huge
smile.

"Guess what? Guess what?"

Scully grinned and Mulder held out his arms, pulling his daughter up into
him.

"What, baby?" he said, smoothing down her hair.

"That was Will. And he wants to go to the mall again, and ride the
carousel. Can I go?"

Scully reared back, shocked that her baby girl was practically going on a
*date* at the age of five, when only yesterday, she was crying in her arms
about not having a baby brother.

"Go. . .with this boy?" she said softly, shaking her head.

Grace was going to be just as beautiful, just as popular as Melissa always
was. Scully was a bit envious, but extremely glad.

"He's gonna ride his bike over, Momma. He lives a block away. Can we go to
the carousel?"

Mulder jiggled her on his knee, then kissed her chin. "Sure, baby. I can
take you."

Grace bit her bottom lip and looked shyly up at her father, then peered at
Scully with intense eyes. "Can Mommy take us instead?"

Mulder's eyes shuttered, and his hand dropped from his little girl's hair;
he looked to Scully with something akin to shock, but closer to sick fear.

"I'll take you, baby," Scully said and gave her daughter a little smile,
feeling Mulder's eys burning into her.

Grace hopped down from her father's lap and ran to Scully, giving her a
huge hug and sloppy kiss before running to the door to unlock it, and wait
on the front steps.

Mulder stood and made for the kitchen, ignoring Scully's attempts to talk
to him. Yanking open the refridgerator, he pulled out the milk carton,
sneaking a glass from the cupboard and then sloshing the liquid over the
side.

Scully came behind him and mopped up his spill with the rag, face closed,
silent.

He jerked the towel from her hands and angrily finished wiping the
counter, putting his fury and his hurt into the job, rather that into his
wife.

She said nothing, knowing he needed to adjust to Grace's choice,
understanding the raw pain that came from being left out.

When he had chugged down the last of his milk, Mulder rinsed out the glass
and put it in the dishwasher, then leaned wearily against the counter.

"I guess you're going to say I shouldn't take this personally."

She gave him a tiny smile and nodded.

"But I do," he whispered. "She. . .she's my little girl. . ."

Scully dropped her eyes, hearing the words he did not say . . . 

she's my little girl, not yours.

He clutched the towel between his hands and squeezed it sharply, unaware
how his words had affected her.

"I'm okay," he said after a minute. "It's just a ride to the mall. . ."

<nothing important> she whispered.

Nothing important.

He was trying to make himself feel better, and in the process, crushing
the joy she felt over Grace's new attitude.

Turning from the kitchen, she went to the door, looking for Grace.

They were on the stoop, Will breathing hard from racing all the way to
their house, but beaming, as if he'd won first prize. Grace was admiring
his bike and squeezing the handle brakes, different from her own bike.

Scully smiled and ruffled Grace's hair.

"Come on, guys, let's go."

She liked hearing their feet running after her.
~~~~

Mulder watched them through the kitchen window, shaking his head at his
feelings, trying to remember that no matter what happened, he was Grace's
father, and nothing would change that.

Scully had said it often enough, she was a Daddy's girl, she adored him.

He smiled and waved as Grace caught his eye; she smiled and said
something, making Scully turn around in the car to see him too.

The look on her face made his breath catch; she looked radiant, so very
happy, so much pride and joy in such a simple thing.

He realized that this was an important thing to her, and he felt all the
more worse for belittling it.

This was a huge step to bringing Grace and her mother closer together, and
there he was, hurting over the joy of this moment.

He gave Scully a grin and flashed her a thumbs up, causing such a
beautiful smile to light up her face that he couldn't help but want to
give her these moments forever.

The car eased down the drive and disappeared from his sight faster than he
liked, causing an uneasy feeling to settle in his stomach.

Going to the fridge, Mulder grabbed the milk again, forgetting his glass
and drinking straight from the carton.

When he was worried, his bachelor habits came back full force, like a
signal of danger.
~~~~
~~~~

"They would tell you that I owe you 
More than I could ever pay
Here's someone who really loves you
Don't ever go away
That's what these walls would say."
--"If These Walls Could Speak," Amy Grant

~~~~

The crowd in the mall was sparse, the people shopping had a specific
purposes, their walks quick and dignified. The skylights let in a
wonderful sun, with a brightness that glittered the specks of grey in the
tiled floor.

Scully led the kids in, pushing open the doors with a smile, watching as
Will and Grace talked about the carousel, and the horse with the fire-mane
and flared nostrils.

She knew that her daughter was mature for a little girl, and she assumed
that was why Will even talked to her, seeing that sense of intelligence in
her eyes.

They ran for the large carousel, getting in line as they pulled out money,
a few dollars Scully had already given to them.

Will and Grace got to the front of the line, and a stream of kids ran out
onto the platform, dodging to get their favorites, Scully trailing behind.

When she got to the horse, Grace was astride it again, but Will was
sitting behind her, both of them grinning. Grace was leaning to the side,
her hand on the horse next to her, saving it for her mother.

"Hurry Momma!" she yelled, grinning.

Scully got on the horse, a beautiful one with roses in it's mane, like
fire, and its white flanks glistening with varnish. She smiled, feeling a
funny thrill surge through her; Scully had always loved the horse with the
roses.

"Whee!" Grace yelled, making Will laugh and Scully chuckle as the ride
started up.
~~~~

The ice cream dribbled down his chin, and Scully automatically reached
over and wiped it clean, giving Will a smile. The Dairy Queen in the mall
had a few tables in the food court where they were now sitting, after the
carousel ride had ended.

Scully watched the boy blush, then smile shyly at her, glancing quickly to
Grace.

"Can we see a movie, Momma?" Grace said, pointing to the Malco theatre,
with its marquis displaying four movies in stadium seating.

"Maybe. Which movie?"

"The bug movie!" Grace yelled.

Scully looked to Will, seeing so much Mulder in his quiet eyes and willing
face that she felt a shudder pass through her.

"Which movie would you like to see, Will?"

"That's a good one. I haven't seen it yet."

Scully looked at her watch and noted the time, then nodded. "Well, baby,
let me go call your daddy and see if he wants to come. All right?"

Grace nodded and she stood to make her way to the pay phones, confident
that if the two kids stayed where she could see them, it was okay to leave
them.

She picked up the receiver and deposited the quarter and dime with ease,
berating herself for not taking her cell phone with her.

Looking back to their table, she saw Will and Grace talking excitedly,
their eyes flashing.

"'Lo?"

"Mm, Mulder, it's me."

"Are you okay?"

"Fine. Grace and Will want to see the bug movie. You want to come up here
and watch it with us?"

She heard him pause, then breathe softly. "No. No, this is your time,
Scully. Go ahead."

She smiled and waved to Gracie, who was standing up in her chair.

"Thanks, Mulder," she said, shooting Grace a look, telling her with a
glance to get down.

Grace dropped to her knees as Mulder said bye, and she hung up.
~~~~

Mulder felt an ache in his gut that he couldn't get rid of, and when the
storm clouds rolled in over their neighborhood, he felt even worse, that
same sick emptiness in him when he'd come home to find Scully bleeding on
the floor.

He shrugged off his hesitancy and ran out to his car, pulling his seatbelt
fast over him and then backing down the driveway.

He would just be there when they got out of the movie, be there to see
them alive, and calm his irrational fears.
~~~~

It was halfway through when the movie reel jerked, then stopped, and the
lights didn't come back on. A groan went up from the kids in the audience,
and Scully glanced around, looking back to the projector's window.

She saw shadows darting across and hoped they'd have the problem fixed
quickly.

Only about thirty people were in the audience, seeing as it was a
Wednesday evening, only six o'clock, and no one really wanted to see the
bug movie but kids.

She licked her lips and settled Grace back in her seat, suggesting that
she and Will play twenty questions.

The lights came on and Scully looked back to the projector window, but
just then, a loud crash echoed through the theatre and twenty men burst
in.

Scully instinctively moved toward Grace and Will, watching as the  men
waved black rifles around, an anxiousness in their eyes that gave her a
sinking feeling.

They were too nervouse, to high strung; someone was going to die.

Two men yelled for everyone to get on their knees, and Scully pushed Grace
and Will down, putting her body between them and the men, offering a quick
prayer.

She looked up and saw the masked men pull out spray cans, gas masks
quickly coming over their faces. Her breath stopped and a sinking feeling
ripped down her stomach as she watched them.

A case from seven years before came flitting through her mind, men Mulder
had penetrated as they spread a horrible, government made disease through
the air. They'd struck a theatre, and Mulder had been with them in a bank,
coming to understand that they'd contaminated money.

She shoved Grace and Will further into the center, biting her lip as she
watched the men spray their cans of death in the faces of children and
parents.

Their screams bit into her ears and she winced, feeling sick, feeling
helpless to save them, to save herself, to save Will or Grace.

Closing her eyes, she laid her head on Grace's back, then choked on tears.

"Momma!" Grace was saying, her eyes wide and body shivering.

"Okay, baby. It's okay," she lied and pulled her gun from its holster,
determined to shoot first, ask later.

Will looked at her, sorrow and extreme guilt in his eyes. "This is my
fault," he said, breathing hard. "I shouldn't have even called . . .it's
my fault, all over agian."

Scully didn't have the time to argue, she merely shook her head and
touched his lips, urging him to stay silent.

"We've got to get out of here," she said.

Being on the third row from the front, Scully could see the exit doors
from her crouched position, and the men making their way down the aisle
weren't paying attention.

In fact, they were taking up so much concentration on spraying people,
that Scully felt a strange confidence well in her.

The smell of burning flesh assaulted her then and she retched, gagging on
the air as Grace cried.

Will grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard, making her come back to
herself, causing her to open her eyes.

"Gracie, be quiet." she hissed and reached for her daughter.

"I want Daddy!" she wailed, and Scully had no choice but to pull her
daughter into her stomach, muffling the girl's sobs.

When she was calmer, Scully let go of her, risking a quick glance to the
men.

They were still making their way through the rows of parents further on,
and in the very back, charred bodies were shrivelled like mummies.

"Okay, Gracie, baby, you have to be very quiet," she whispered, giving
Will a panicked look.

Will nodded and took Grace's hand, giving her a smile.

"Now, you two are going to crawl out of from behind these chairs and over
to the exit. See that door?"

Grace looked at it in tears, nodding and sniffling, finding her courage.

"Okay, love, I'm going to be coming behind you. But *do not* look back.
Don't stop, don't come back. Go right on through and look for a police
man, or an adult. You understand?"

Grace looked at her mother in horror. "You're coming aren't you?"

Scully smiled softly. "Of course," she lied, and kissed Grace's cheek.
"I'll be there."

Grace glanced to Will and then back to her mother, hearing the hiss of
spray cans and the gurgles of the dead and dying.

"Okay, we keep going."

Scully nodded and pushed her daughter toward the aisle, feeling her heart
thudding painfully in her throat.

"Right, baby. Go on," she whispered, shutting her eyes briefly.

Grace looked back at her, and Scully nodded. "I'll be right behind you."

If this were to work, Scully would have to distract the men with guns
while Will and Grace opened the heavy metal exit door.

Grace kissed her mother in a rush, then took Will's hand and began
crawling for the exit, her tears mixing with her fear and running in
rivers down her cheeks.

Scully stood slowly, once they were out of sight of the men, and fired her
weapon.

In unison, the twenty men turned, reacted to the bullets whizzing at them,
and opened fire.
~~~~

The police cars lined along the sidewalk made him run, and he had to use
his FBI badge to skirt past them, and on into the mall. He found a few
officers puzzling over the distorted remains of a human at the ticket
window, and he wanted to throw up.

Leaning heavily against the glass, he caught his breath, squeezing shut
his eyes and pounding his fist into the side wall.

He heard gunshots and he knew, knew, it was her.

God, no. . .
~~~~

Grace was running towards him, screaming for him, her body bloody, her
gait limping.

Mulder pulled her into his arms, pausing long enough to see that no one
was behind her, then ran for the paramedices, screaming for help just as
Grace sobbed in choked, gurgling noises in his arms.

As she was taken to the ambulance, the medics looked after her gunshot
wound, plugging her chest to stop the bleeding, and Mulder stroked her
hair, trying not to cry.

She looked at him, tears in her eyes, her words coming in a gasp.

"She promised to be right behind me. . .she promised."

Mulder buried his head in Grace's stretcher, closing his eyes.
~~~~
~~~~

"Unselfish in her suffering
she could not understand
that no one seemed to have the time
to cherish what is offered
and I would be the last to know
and I would be the last to let it show
and I would be the last to go."
--"Mary" Sarah McLachlan

~~~~

It was a train barreling into her at full speed, a smack of fire and steel
that knocked her to the ground.

And yet she kept on shooting.

Her fingers were frozen to her weapon, the bullets rattling from the gun
like her breath in her chest, hollow and empty and finding no target.

She couldn't move, couldn't watch.

Her eyes stared fixedly at the dull yellow house lights, until her body
slumped from the back of the second row and to the floor, a heap of blood
and death.

Just as blackness closed, she saw the exit door slam shut. . .
~~~~

When the men ran from the theatre, the entire police force began shooting,
their bullets tried and true, taking them out one by one.

Mulder shot with cold grief, his aim steady, his gun emptied when it was
over.

Walking inside the lone theatre, he let the officers swarm around him,
watching instead the hunkered remains of children and women and men, their
death screams cut short as the horrible disease had entered them.

Like acid.

A suicide run . . . nothing more.

And the men had known that, had taken every last perverse joy in killing,
knowing that they too would soon be dead.

Maybe they'd been told to do it for their country, maybe they were like
the terrorists he'd infiltrated before.

Mulder walked slowly down the aisle, seeing a commotion at the front, then
a brown head pop up from behind the rows, hair matted with dark crimson
blood.

He ran.
~~~~

She was barely breathing, her blood trickling from her slowly, Will's
hands stained with it, his clothes soaked in it, his hair drenched in it.

He'd come back.

Grace had run, just as her mother had said, but Will had come back, come
back to save Scully's life.

Mulder dropped to his knees as paramedics rushed in, crushed the child in
his arms, weeping.

Then he took Scully's hand softly in his, wiping blood and tears from his
face, watching her eyes flicker.

He was amazed.

She should be weaker, should be unconscious. . .all that blood.

"Scully?"

She said nothing, couldn't talk for the mask being placed over her nose
and mouth, but her fingers twitched and her eyes rolled back.

Mulder moved to let the paramedics through, following behind, Will's
shoulders clutched in his hands.

He rode with Scully, since Grace's ambulance had sped off thirty minutes
ago, with his daughter asleep in the back, the wound from a bullet graze
under control. He held Will in his lap, hugging the boy tightly, eyes
closed.

All that blood. . .
~~~~

Will's mother was nodding, biting her lip as she looked at her son,
Mulder's anger apparent.

He knew he was directing it at the wrong person, knew it was really his
own helplessness that was coming out, but he didn't and couldn't stop.

"Your son has been to the emergency room more times that *I* have, Mrs.
Miller, and I'm an FBI agent. That's horrid."

She shook her head, eyes casting about for relief.

"Don't you see what's going on? He isn't really falling down the stairs,
he isn't really getting hit with the baseball. You've got the power to
stop this," Mulde said quietly, looking over at where Will sat, eyes
locked on the room Grace was in.

"Why don't you stick to looking after your own family, Mr. Mulder? You
seem to be having enough trouble that you ought not to be sticking your
nose in *my* business."

Mulder pushed back, then stormed away, hearing Will's child feet echo
after his.

Then his small hand pushed into Mulder's, causing him to look down.

"This is my fault. If I hadn't called, we wouldn't have been there. Let me
stay with you," he said, eyes pleading.

Mulder got down on his knees next to the boy, holding both his hands in a
gentle clasp.

"This isn't your fault, Will. I don't care what you father says to you, I
don't care what your mother says. This wasn't your fault."

He looked back at Mulder, and in those eyes, he saw reflections of his own
life, mirrors of pain and hurt and sorrow.

"Let me stay," he said again.

Mulder nodded. "Go ask your mother."
~~~~

The room was cold, he thought, but he made no move to call a nurse. He sat
in the chair, head buried in his hands, waiting.

Scully's chest moved with obvious struggle, but she wasn't on the
respirator anymore, in fact, she and Grace had gone off of it the same
time.

He felt a dim hope glowering in the far recesses of his mind.

She was slack like a rag doll, her eyes sunken, limbs heavy. Mulder was
alone in her room, Mrs. Scully watching over Grace in the pediatric wing
as he had this moment alone.

In a few hours they would switch vigils, Mulder meeting her halfway,
hating those few minutes when his women were alone.

He almost felt that if he didn't watch them, they'd slip away.

It was hell, waiting.

It was trying to find an answer to questions he didn't have; Mulder hadn't
even found a way to blame himself, he was so busy trying to keep Will from
the same.

Grace kept asking for her mother, every time she woke and could muster the
energy to speak, a far cry from the expressive five year old she normally
was. It broke his heart to tell her that her mother was stil asleep, was
still hovering.

In a fit of frustration, Mulder moved to sit on her bed, taking her pale
hand between his, rubbing her fingers.

"Scully. . .come on, G-woman, wake up for me." 

He leaned in and kissed her, lips gentle along her bruised cheeks.

The silence ate away at him.

"Scully. . .Scully, we need you. . .please, please, just wake up."

There was nothing except the steady rise of her chest and the beeping of
the heart moniter.
~~~~

Margaret Scully walked into her daughter and granddaughter's hospital
room, her tennis shoes making no noise, eyes slipping over the two
patients and coming to rest on Mulder.

He was slumped in a chair between the two beds, one hand in Dana's, the
other on Grace's arm.

The boy was curled up at the foot of Grace's bed, his hair falling in his
eyes, breathing heavy and deep, dreams haunting him.

Margaret glanced at him closely, marvelling once again at the amazing
likeness between Will and Mulder, with the same long noses, thick lips,
and little boy innocence.

She sat once more in her chair, placed beside her daughter's bed, thankful
to the doctors who had allowed the girls to be put together, once Dana had
made it out of ICU.

Glancing out the window, she gazed at the full yellow moon, a sigh
escaping her lips.

Dana had fought in the hospital, beneath two surgeries and a surprise
infection, fought and managed to stay alive.

Mulder's earlier run in with the knife, and his week in the hospital while
they were all wary of blood posioning, was nothing compared to the month
long trial of Dana's fight for life and Gracie's waning health.

It was heart wrenching, how connected Grace's own recovery was to her
mother's. During the long week of touch and go, Grace had been put on a
respirator, her breathing regulated by a machine. The doctors said it was
psychosomatic, a product of the girl's mind, the shock and grief over not
having her mother there, of the last moments before the shots had been
fired.

She'd been counselled, and Mulder had talked with her often, but she
wanted her mother, and nothing else could change that.

It made him sick, and it was tearing him apart, watching his daughter slip
into depression and his wife slip further into coma.

The three bullets that had punctured one lung, shattered her lower ribs,
and tore through her intestines had done incredible damage, but she was
healing, was gaining some strength, all due to Will.

Mulder never let the boy out of his sight.

Will's mother had come up, kissing on him and crying, saying what a brave
man he was, but Mulder recognized the fear behind her eyes, the panic
close to the surface.

Will's father did not come.

His mother allowed him to stay in the hospital, in Mulder's care, her
relief so evident that it made Mulder sorrowful. He knew the boy was being
abused at home, had seen the scars on his back and on his legs when the
nurse had stripped off his bloodied clothes and bandaged the slice along
his stomach. 

Mulder could understand that; even though his own father hadn't hit him
regularly, there'd been instances, and enough verbal and mental abuse to
last a thousand lifetimes.

He tried to show Will gentleness, and the boy seemed to like him, but he
spent most his time curled up on Grace's bed, watching her breathe.

Grace woke just then, and glanced over to her mother, her eyes dull and
lifeless, her limbs motionless.

She slowly looked to her father, then sighed.

"Mommy?" she said hoarsely.

Mulder's mouth jerked and he shook his head, holding back his tears.

"Soon, baby."

She nodded and raised an arm, grasping for his hand. 

Taking his daughter's cool fingers, he kissed her knuckles, then gave her
a hopeful smile.

"How do you feel, sugar?"

"I want Mommy."

"Yeah, I know, Grace. I want Mommy too."

"I left her," she said suddenly, and melted with tears. "I let her get
shot up."

Mulder looked at her, horrified, disgusted with himself for not seeing
this before.

"No, no, baby. She wanted you safe. Momma can take good care of herself,
and she knew she had to get you out. You did exactly what she told you
too, baby, and that was the right thing."

Grace's mouth worried her lower lip and her crocidile tears spilled from
bleary eyes.

"I ran. She said she'd be right behind me. She said she'd follow. Why
wasn't she right behind me?"

Mulder pulled his daughter into his arms, careful not to tangle in the IV
line, and being gentle with her brusied body.

"Oh baby, baby. You did just right. You did just. . .just fine," he
whispered, unable to lie to her, unable to say that her mother was going
to be all right.

He just didn't know.

"When's Momma gonna wake up?" she choked out, fighting off a cough but
wheezing still.

"She's waiting for you to get better," a voice said, and Mulder looked
behind him to see Will.

The boy sidled up next to Grace, then kissed her cheek.

"You're gonna be okay, right Gracie?"

Grace blinked, not sure how to answer. She'd never been asked something
like that before.

"You're like my sister. . ." he said softly and then smiled shyly. "I want
you to get better."

"I. . .I'm gonna be okay," she said back but then looked to her mother. "I
just want Mommy."

Mulder held her closer, pulling Will into their hug, knowing the boy
needed some strength to get him through this too.

In a second, Mrs. Scully had joined them on the bed, stroking Grace's hair
and letting them all cry.
~~~~
~~~~

"Now show me your glory."
--Exodus 33:18

~~~~

The whisper of her breath kept him company in the early morning hours,
until its gentle rhythm and his own exhaustion pulled him to sleep.

In the room, the grey of early dawn washed across the floor, changing
bright white and starched blues into dingy swatches of despair. 

Grace's eyes opened to the predawn and her head moved, eyes catching the
light as her body woke.

She looked to the side, away from the low light, over towards her mother.
Scully's chest rose and fell, her body limp and pale.

A form was standing beside her, hazy and in shadow, eyes dark and deep,
his hand placed on the railing, his face that of a child.

Grace cleared her throat to speak, feeling that she must say something to
him, must get his attention away from her mother.

"Stop...." she cracked out, raising a hand.

The boy's head and the sun rose at that exact moment, causing a blinding
white to sear into her, envelop her with warmth.

Grace closed her eyes and reached out, hoping to catch hold of her mother,
cling to her father.

A gentle hand touched hers and her eyes flew open, watching him hover
beside her, bright and shining.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered and kissed her forehead.

His face came closer to hers and she saw it was Will, shining and
shimmering.

She coughed and felt her chest ease, the tightness leaving, her hands
warmed and heavy.

"Who are you really?" she whispered, watching this boy, Will, touch her
face with tenderness.

"It is enough that I'm here," he said and then moved away, back to the
shadows, invisible at once, no longer a form, but a breath that whispered
along her body.

The room dimmed and Grace looked back out the window, seeing that the sun
was laboring up the sky, just as bright as always.

She trembled and looked over to her mother, watching the easy breaths, the
color to her cheeks, the blood flowing in her fingers.

And she wasn't afraid anymore.

She wasn't afraid.
~~~~

Mulder shuffled back in the room, the hot coffee burning his tongue as it
sloshed over the rim, numbing his taste buds.

Margaret Scully smiled at him and glanced to Dana, waving her hand over
the woman's body.

"She looks so much better, doesn't she Fox?"

Mulder nodded and blinked, noticing the warmth in Scully's face, the way
she looked as if she were only asleep, not locked deep within herself.

"She. . .she does."

Mrs. Scully smiled and took the extra cup from his hand, sipping it with
gentle movements, blowing on it when it proved to be too hot.

Mulder looked over to Grace and found that his daughter seemed better too,
seemed more alive than he'd seen her in a long time.

The bond between his wife and child was inexplainable to him, how such a
thing could come about, how so close in mind and body they could be, and
yet be so distant.

He knew he had that special attachment with Scully; he had felt her fall
to the floor when the baby had been lost, and he had that same gnawing in
his stomach this last time, as she was trapped in a theatre fighting to
stay alive.

But Grace's health and well being seemed linked irreversibly to her
mother.

He realized that every time Scully had taken a turn for the worse, Grace
had done the same, and it went further back than that.

"Fox. . .they both seem so much better." Mrs. Scully said, breaking him
from his thoughts.

"They've always been linked. . ." he said.

Margaret looked at him with raised eyebrows, a frown gracing her stoic
face.

"Do you remember when Scully got that bacterial infection in her lungs,
when Grace was about six months?"

Mrs. Scully smiled softly. "Yes. She was so upset, because she had to be
put on antibiotics, and she couldn't breastfeed Gracie anymore."

Mulder nodded. "Well, Gracie. . .she'd gotten formula a few times before,
and she'd defintely had a bottle, but she just wouldn't take it that time.
She wouldn't eat. . .she scared us to death. I would hold her and beg her
to just drink it. . .she would scream and I would put the bottle in her
mouth and she'd choke on the formula, refuse to drink it."

Mrs. Scully turned to look at Grace, asleep in the bed. "I didn't know
that."

"Well, that was just for the first few days. Scully was really sick and I
didn't want to bother her. The medicine hadn't kicked in then, and she was
miserable. But she heard Grace crying and came in to her bedroom, taking
the bottle from me and then Grace, holding her. Grace just quieted and
settled down, and started in on that bottle, starving no doubt. . ."

"Mother's touch. . ."

Mulder shook his head. "I . . .I don't think it was just that. Scully said
she could feel Grace crying right in her bones. . .she'd been asleep
before. And when Scully got worse, later on, Grace didn't sleep through
the night for a week. I think they're attuned to each other. I think. . .I
think it's amazing."

Mrs. Scully patted his back and said nothing; he could tell she didn't
quite buy into his entire theory, but she knew what he meant, and that he
was trying to build himself up with hope.

He just couldn't lose both of them.
~~~~

Will and Grace were on the floor, playing cards or some version of a game,
her IV line allowed to be removed, so she could move around.

Grace seemed almost happy, her melancholy lifted from her face, her
talkative nature reasserting itself.

Will was watching everyone from the corner of his eye, and Grace was
watching him, as if she expected something to happen.

Mulder looked hopefully to Scully, wishing.
~~~~
~~~~

There was a healing touch, like fire and heat searing through her, but
instead of burning, it was cool, a refreshing force of life that reached
into her body and shook it free of the cold chill of death.

She felt the water break over her head and the waves be boiled away, the
fire before her steaming as it drifted across the water.

A path was being made for her, an easy route of dry land that beckoned to
her like sirens.

She stepped out, onto the rocks, felt the pull of the water sucking her
down, but a steadying hand guiding her.

Looking down to her side, she found Grace, smiling and leading her
forward, pushing her through the puddles, helping her skip over the eddies
still there.

The fire burned before them, around them, throughout them, but it did not
consume them.

In the midst of its flames, she thought she saw a shifting face, brown
hair and deep deep eyes, a child.

A child so much like Mulder. . .

She was walking for the shore. . .breathing fresh air again.
~~~~

Grace was smiling in her sleep, and when Mulder looked over, so was
Scully.

He grinned and moved closer to his wife, watching her eyelids flicker, her
breath move in whispers along her lips.

He picked up her hand and stroked the web of skin between her thumb and
finger. 

She shifted in the bed, her head moving, her eyes turning under her lids,
mouth now parted.

It was the most movement she had made in the past month, as if she were
struggling to come to consciousness with more force than before.

He glanced back to Grace, saw her movements mimic her mother's, her
eyelids suddenly coming open.

He jerked back to Scully, waiting, praying that this was the moment, she
would wake up now.

Grace pushed herself out of bed, then moved to where her father sat,
climbing up on the bed with him, then keeping watch.

He felt Will come beside him, touch his shoulder, then sit next to Grace
on the bed.

Scully's eyes flickered open, then shut again, and her mother pushed
closer to the bed in her chair, hardly breathing.

Her eyes moved again, the struggle to come back more forceful, her arms
almost thrashing.

Mulder leaned in and touched her forehead, pushing away the hair falling
in her face. He stroked her cheek and kissed her nose, whispering her
name.

"Scully, Scully," he said, and smoothed his hands down her face, along her
neck.

The room went still, his breath caught, a kind of hovering silence
permeated the air.

Will reached out and touched her hand.

A breath whispered from her lips and she opened her eyes.

"Mul. . ."

"Hey, beautiful."

Her eyes slipped shut and she licked her lips, wincing, then clutching his
hand with hers.

"Mulder. . ."

He smiled broadly, laughing, watching her head move on the pillow, her
hair lank and haloing her red cheeks.

She opened her eyes again and their sharp blue shone like moons, piercing
his darkness and burning away the haze of his despair.

"Scully," he breathed and leaned down to kiss her gently.

She looked at the faces peering over her, eyes sweeping over Grace and
Will. Reaching out, she grabbed their hands and smiled.

"You're okay," she whispered, throat hoarse and tongue thick.

Grace nodded and leaned down to kiss her mother, snuggling into her side
and sighing.

"I missed you Mommy," she whispered.

Scully expelled a long breath and closed her eyes, moving her arms to
encircle Grace.

"Missed you too, baby."

Mulder's hand drifted along her thigh, rubbing her skin through the sheet,
watching her with Grace.

"How long. . ." she said, clearing her throat with a cough.

He bit his lip and gave her a tired smile.

"Too long. . . .about a month."

The tears shimmered in his eyes and she reached out a hand to him, letting
him fall into her body, face buried in her neck, Grace on one side, Mulder
on the other.

Will hung back, perched on the edge of the bed and she smiled at him as
her mother leaned in to give her a huge hug.

Then the boy got down from the bed, his hair brown and wavy, almost like
tongues of fire, licking at his head.

He moved to the door and smiled, then walked away.

Scully wondered if she would ever see him again.
~~~~

Rift 9: Resolution

~~~~
Resolution
~~~~

Mulder looked out at the sky from their bedroom window, wishing away the
grey clouds and heavy air.

He turned back to the empty room and grabbed a pair of jeans from the
floor, then pulled on a black T-shirt, frowning at the toothpaste stain on
the hem.

Turning back to the bathroom, he pushed his towels into the clothes
hamper, along with whatever else was on the floor, clean or otherwise,
trying to keep the bedroom fairly neat.

Scully hated things tossed around when she was bedridden.

He found it pathetic that he would *know* how his wife liked things when
she was bedridden. It said way too much about their life.

Moving quickly back to the bed, Mulder yanked up the covers, stuffed the
pillows nonchalantly under the comforter, then stepped back to admire his
work.

Nodding to himself, he strode out the door.

Scully and Gracie were waiting for him.
~~~~

"Scully, I still don't think this is a good idea."

She glared up at him, then coughed painfully, holding her chest as it left
her aching.

"You're still not up to it."

She shook her head and looked to Grace, watching the little girl ease
carefully out of the hospital bed.

"We need to do this while there's still no one around."

Mulder clenched his fists, then bent over her, taking her small body up in
his arms.

She remained limp, but clutched his shirt with her fingers as he lowered
her to the wheelchair.  She was still too weak to walk, but her lungs
filled with fluid easily if she laid down.

"Thanks," she said and kissed his cheek. "I hate this."

He grinned. "I know you do. I'm trying to make you as annoyed as possible.
That way, you'll have to get better."

She pinched his stomach, then glanced once more to her daughter, making
sure the little girl was all right.

Grace's arm was kept tight in an ace bandage, mainly so that she wouldn't
move and aggravate her bullet wound any more than necessary. Her arm was
held in a sling around her neck, and she complained about it all the time,
pulling it off and letting her injured shoulder swing free.

Mulder sighed.

"Gracie, put that back on!"

She glanced up guiltily to her father, then slipped the sling back around
her neck, sighing.

"It itches, Daddy."

He said nothing, merely looked at her.

She pouted and moved to her mother's wheelchair, running her fingers
through the spokes.

"Baby, don't do that. I don't want your fingers to get caught," Scully
said, taking her hand gently and putting it atop the armrest.

Gracie squirmed and pulled away, darting ahead of them.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Mulder said faintly, from somewhere
above her.

"I can't let Gracie be afraid of movie theatres and malls her entire life,
Mulder."

He grinned and squatted down beside her. "I wouldn't mind that. Think of
how much money it would save us in the long run, if Gracie never wanted to
go to the mall."

Scully rolled her eyes and tapped his nose. "Push, Mulder. Let's get
going."

"Aye-aye, Captain," he muttered and stood up, rolling her out the door.
~~~~

The mall was deserted, closed down to make sure of its safety, though the
biohazard signs and tanks had long been gone.

She watched it come into view through the passenger window, her eyes wide
and her lips parted with stunned surprise as she streaked the glass.

"Daddy, I don't want to be here," she said softly and closed her eyes.

>From the backseat, Scully could see her daughter's tight face through the
side mirror, and she reached out and touched her tiny hand.

Grace's eyes flew open and she looked back at her mother, then let her lip
tremble with fear.

"Momma. . ."

"We can do this Gracie. . .it's going to be okay."

Grace faced front again, finding no savior in her mother's calm face and
steady hands.

Mulder parked and unlocked the doors, then manuevered the wheelchair out
of the trunk and into its position. He lifted Scully into it carefully,
then slammed the door shut behind her. 

Grace was still in her seat, her safety belt clenched between her small
fingers.

Mulder opened the door and gestured for her to get out of the car.

After much hesitation, Grace climbed out, sighing to herself.

Scully reached for her and grasped her daughter's hand again, squeezing it
tightly.

"We can do this, baby."

Her words finally registered with Grace and the little girl looked up,
bewildered.

"You're afraid, Momma?"

Scully gathered her daughter into her arms as best she could, nodding and
squeezing her eyes tightly shut.

"Of course, baby. I have bad dreams about this place, too."

She felt the child shiver and nod against her, then pull away.

"We can do this, Momma," she whispered and reached out for her father's
hand.

Mulder gripped hers tightly and smiled, then pushed Scully toward the
entrance, being careful to take slow, measured steps, going at a pace that
Grace herself could set.

When they reached the front, Mulder pushed a panel set into the brick and
the automatic doors swung open to allow them in.

As FBI agents, Mulder and Scully had aquired special permission to enter
the mall while it was closed down, and there was no threat of the
contamination anywhere. However, the mall manager had decided it was best
for business to let the fear and stories die down before reopening.

They went through the doors, Scully's chair wheels' squeaking slightly on
the newly polished floor, and Grace's sneakers scuffing it.

Mulder paused in front of the long hallway extending down to the movie
theatre, waiting for Scully and Grace to get their bearings.

Grace clutched his leg and stood there, eyes closed and body tensed, for
about five long minutes.

Scully watched her resolutely.
~~~~

It was dark.

The air smelled stale of sweat and gunpowder and chemical cleaners.

Her memory supplied the people.

Scully saw them all, walking to the ticket window, perched in the middle
of the mall, idly chatting with friends and relatives, or moving about in
the sea of faces like fish in schools.

She smelled popcorn again, the sickly sweet of butter and the tang of
salt. She could taste it in her mouth, every kernel that was stuck in her
teeth, each piece of soft yellow body melting on her tongue.

She knew she would never eat popcorn again.

There were the faces, the laughter, the crowds, the children ahead, and
her own daughter running back and forth from a display of Godzilla, then
back to her.

She saw the man at the little box, taking the tickets.

She heard them rip in half.

It sounded just as deafening as the bullets ripping through her body,
through her daughter's body, as they exploded from guns.

It was dark.

She felt sick. She tasted popcorn. She heard laughter and screams.

She reached out and clutched Mulder's pant leg, making him stop.

She blinked.

They were on the wheelchair ramp going up into the theatres, the ticket
counter and concession stands far behind them.

Grace was leaning heavily on her father's arm, practically suspended from
his hand.

Scully brushed hair from her baby's face, smiled softly and sorrowfully at
her.

"We can do this," Gracie whispered.

Scully nodded, then faced forward again.

Mulder kept pushing.
~~~~

Grace saw it big and looming in front of her:

the screen.

Grey-white and partially shielded by a curtain that dripped in blood, it
hung there.

She remembered glancing up to that screen from the sticky floor, looking
up and seeing that screen towering above her, mocking her smallness.

It was laughing at her.

It was ripped through with bullets, mortally wounded for its sin.

She was crawling on the floor, Will was right behind her, she was feeling
his breath hot on her neck, his hands clipping her feet as he gained on
her, the crunch of her knees against popcorn shells.

There was the door and it gleamed, it was shiny silver and beckoning with
a red red hand, its letters proclaiming their attempts for escape.

She breathed out and pushed it open.

And she looked back.

Her mother was not there.

She looked back.

Rows, rows, rows, seats of a faded blood red backed in dark plastic,
jutting obstacles between her and her mother.

She looked back.

Her mother was falling, jerking as metal sliced right through her, right
in her, the blood spurting, falling like a rain shower over her still
body. Like sparks falling from the sky on July 4th, colored and bright. 

Falling and sprinkling her mother's stil body.

Her so still body.

She moved back, lurched back, but the door was open and Will was shoving
her and she thought she heard it. . .thought she heard her Daddy.

Daddy.

"Grace!"

She blinked.

She had stopped in the middle of the aisle, blocking her mother's
wheelchair, tight and tense, stiff and unblinking.

She moved aside, let her father push her mother on down, then followed
them.

She shivered.
~~~~

Scully saw the fresh floor, the shiny black surface, the newly upholstered
chairs.

All of it once splattered, drenched, shining, with her blood.

It was somehow hollow now.

Grace slid onto her lap, tucked her small head into Scully's stomach,
shaking.

"We'll be all right," Scully whispered, still staring at the clean clean
spot.

Mulder moved away, let her remain in the aisle there, staring.

Grace began to cry, soft sobs that fell from her in waterfalls, her eyes
swimming in lakes of relief, of guilt, of sorrow, of fear.

"It's over, baby. It's over now."

With her daughter's loud crying masking her own, Scully let their
catharsis begin, gripping Grace with all her weakened strength.

"It's finally all over."
~~~~

Two Months Later

~~~~

The place was alive, thriving, moving like a dance.

She walked slowly, still unsure of herself, her strength.

Her little girl gripped her father's fingers with her small hands, not
running ahead as usual.

The family stood in the entrance, watching the people shuffle by with
indifference, taking in the small details.

The smell of cotton candy this time.

The taste of mashed potatoes from dinner this time.

The sea of faces just like last time.

The fear no longer a moving, breathing thing, but a soft coil of
tenderness in their guts -- this time.

Mulder followed them in, watching his two women as they took in their
surroundings, as they adjusted themselves to the feel of this fast,
surreal mall.

He saw his daughter's eyes narrow, then her head turn away.

He wondered if Grace was thinking about running.

She walked over to her mother, calmly took her hand, then began walking
forward, past the shops and people, past the benches and security men,
through the maze of the sea of faces.

A bright carousel stood in the midst of the craziness, like a beacon of
light across a rocky stormy ocean.

"I want to ride the carousel, Momma."

Scully looked down, smoothed the hair from her daughter's forehead, then
nodded.

"Let's go ride the carousel."
~~~~

Mulder stood as he saw the carousel come towards him, preparing to wave at
his brave little girl.

As it slowly started up, spinning lazily, he saw them both, seated on a
dark stallion, roses twined in its shining hair, nostrils flared in
indignation.

They both waved, both smiled, both reclaiming their joy.

He watched it circle around, felt that thunderous moment stamped into his
heart forever.

He saw their spirits, alive and stampeding, throwing their heads in the
wind and riding into the sunset.

He saw their souls, healing.
~~~~

end of Rift