Title: The Thousand Years
Author: RocketMan >lebontrager@iname.com<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully, Margaret Scully, Bill Scully, and the
X-Files belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No infringement is intended. No
sale is being made.

Summary/Notes: MulderA, MSR, Character Death--but really, read it
because it's not bad stuff....it all works out in the end
SPOILERS::::One Breath, Ascension, Duane Barry, faintly the Emily
mytharc.


=-=-=-=-=-=-=
The Thousand Years
=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Part One

"--one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one
day--"

2 Peter 3:8

=-=-=-=-=-=-=

She could feel it now, could feel it dancing along her skin, sharp and
intense. Her fingers gripped the sheets and her toes curled against it,
but even shutting her eyes would not make it go away. 

Scully lifted her hand for the phone, lips trembling, and she knew she
had to call him, call someone, to make this stop. She reached and
reached and reached but it was just too far away and already, her feet
were taking her to the window.

The back of her neck positively sang with desire and she pressed her
cheek to the cold window pane, relieving the flush and heat of her skin.
Her hands came to push herself away, but instead, her finger traced the
outline of stars.

She trembled. This was. . .was like sex, except it was all pain and no
pleasure, and she was so very tight, so on edge and ready to scream and
release, but nothing would take her there. It was just up and up and up,
and she had to follow it up.

Before she realized it, Scully was shrugging on her coat and shoes,
buttoning up her dress shirt again, and grabbing her purse and car keys.
Her hand clenched for the cellular phone, but the scream in her neck and
head would not let her bring it. Mulder, Mulder, please.

Oh God, she pleaded, oh God. Don't let me die. Please.

But she went to her car and turned the engine over, and then hooked on
her seat belt. The car backed out of the parking lot and she saw a
neighbor wave. She could not wave back; she felt as if her entire body
would explode if she moved in any direction other than up.

Up, she whispered and fishtailed out of the parking lot in her haste.

Up, and she knew. She knew.

I am going to die tonight.

=-=-=-=

"Agent Mulder?"

He grunted from sleep, not realizing he had even answered the sharp
trill of his cellular phone.

"Agent, this is AD Skinner. There's been a. . .an incident. Another
burning, but this time on a bridge over the Potomac."

His heart screamed in his chest and he bolted upright, snapping out of
bed and hearing his feet slam into the floor.

"Burning. Was. . .was Sc-"

He could not bring himself to ask, could not even begin to think it.
Yesterday Mulder had gone to her apartment for one of those random, he
should've had a better excuse, kind of things. But she hadn't been
there. And she wasn't at her mother's. And she hadn't told anyone she
was leaving.

"Agent Mulder, you'll need to come down to the office."

Oh. Oh God.

"Tell me right now, Skinner. Tell me on the phone."

"Mulder! Get to your office, right now!"

And the phone's slam rang in his ears for hours, minutes, eternity while
he sat there, trembling.

Burning. He should have. . .they had known the influence of that chip,
and she had almost gotten burned one time before--

She was all right, she was fine. She'd escaped it before, she had
probably escaped it again. Skinner was calling and being cryptic just as
he had last time, trying to make him sweat. He would go down to his
office and Skinner would tell him that Scully was in the hospital, and
he would feel bad,  but it would be okay.

Right? It would be okay.

=-=-=-=

She's fine. She's fine. She's fine. She's-

dead.

Skinner's face. The look of immense pity and sorrow that was painted
into his face like a mask. The aura of sick grief that touched
everything he touched.

Mulder dropped to his knees in the hallway outside his office, seeing
the truth but not wanting to believe it.

"We found bones. . .Mulder. Forensics and. . .I waited until we could be
certain it was her. DNA matches."

"N-no."

"Mulder--"

"No!"

He yanked himself up to stand, weak-kneed and pale, but still on his
feet. He pushed away from the wall and began walking back towards the
stairs, somehow believing that if he just went back to his apartment,
back to sleep, it would all be a nightmare and he would wake up.

She wasn't dead. She wasn't.

"Agent Mulder! Let me at least drive you home."

He ignored the man and continued on, determined to erase this time with
his movements. He stepped forward, and he was really stepping backward,
back into the past, making all of this not real.

He laughed to himself. None of this was real. He was relieved. Otherwise
it would hurt very badly.

=-=-=-=

Mulder shivered on his couch, his limbs jumping from the cushions with
the force of his muscle contractions. He closed his eyes and wished this
meant he was being haunted by her, but it didn't.

She probably could haunt him, if she wanted to, but then again she
didn't believe in ghosts, even if she was one.

No. No, I wouldn't want her to be stuck here. Not a ghost, an angel.
She's a beautiful angel watching me sob like a child. Sob and never stop
sobbing.

But the thing was, he could not believe that either.

Her bones had looked so small, so very wrong in their twisted blackened
shroud. He had reached out and touched one, and still did not believe it
was her. This couldn't be her. She couldn't be dead. He had smelled the
ash of skin on his fingers and felt the greasy black smear of fat cells
that hadn't burned completely, but still, it wasn't her.

He should feel her dead. She should be like a horrible gaping hole in
his heart and head and soul, but she was still there. 

And so he didn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it. They had
taken her, she was out there somewhere and he would find her.

The chill was like death all around him, cold and unrelenting. His
heater had broken days ago and instead of fixing it or getting some
help, he punished himself for letting them take her again. For letting
them take her and make everyone think her dead.

She wasn't. As much as everything his eyes said, as much as the bones
screamed at him, he refused to believe she was dead. Didn't they think
he *wanted* to? He did, that was the horrible, sick, Mulder part. He
wanted to believe she was dead, but he couldn't. Everything in him told
him that she wasn't gone yet, and so he couldn't give up.

He would search till he died. 

"Please, Scully,"

He opened his eyes and glanced around his apartment, then decided that
it was ridiculous to freeze to death when he could be warm. It was
better that he was warm if he was to find her. He had to stay alive if
he was going to get her back.

Just the thought, the briefest idea, that she was being tested on again
made his skin crawl and bile raise in his throat. If everyone thought
she had died, then he was her last hope.

=-=-=-=

Her couch was a bit too short and it seemed so very far away from her,
so he laid down on her bed. It was soft and smooth, like glass and
satin, and he rested his cheek against her pillows.

He could smell her all over. Smell that skin and shampoo and sleep of
Dana Scully. He curled up tightly against the smells of outside and
himself and tried to wrap his shaking body in her. He was crying again
and clutching the sheets, but he didn't care.

She wouldn't care either; she would have let him cry on her.

Exhaustion stalked him like a lioness in Africa, and the gentle heat of
her room and the smell of her skin was devouring him in sleep. His head
dropped to the sheets and he slept, dreaming and dreaming.

"Mulder."

"Mulder?"

He jerked up, heart beating painfully wild. He blinked his eyes and
looked around, then saw her, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Scully?"

"Mulder what are you doing here?"

"Scully?"

She raised an eyebrow and glanced around her room, but he had the
feeling she wasn't looking at this room, in her apartment, but at
someplace else.

"Mulder. . .I don't know how to get out of here."

"Neither do I," he whispered and rubbed his forehead, then his eyes.

She sighed and crawled up to sit next to him on the bed, touching his
cheeks with a warm, very alive finger.

"Oh Mulder. Why are you crying?"

"For you."

She blinked and jerked back from him, then glanced up guiltily.

"Is this my dream or yours?" he said suddenly, feeling sick in his gut.

She bit her lip and glanced away, so very close to him and yet so far.
He reached out his hand and stroked her hair, wanting to feel it one
last time, wanting to touch everything about her until his dreams had
her memorized and he could fall into them any time.

She sighed in his touch and turned back to face him, then quietly moved
into his arms, closing her eyes. He stroked her hair and her cheek, her
neck, her arms and sides. His hands circled her waist and moved up her
back, then down her thighs and to her knees. She shifted so that they
were laying back on her bed and he pulled her so tightly into him he
thought he might not breathe.

"Don't-don't let go," she whispered tightly, and he saw what trouble it
took her to admit that she wanted him to touch her.

"Never," he promised and moved his lips to touch hers, brushing back and
forth, gliding down her neck, across her cheek, her eyelids. He seduced
her features with his mouth and pulled her warm body into his with a
sigh.

She wrapped her arms around him and began shaking, burying her face in
his chest.

Stunned, he just held her, stroking her back and murmuring to her.

"Oh God. . ." she was saying and he wondered if his dreams would make
her hate him for the kisses. Would he be that cruel to himself?

"Scully. . ."

"I wish you were real, Mulder. Please, please be real."

He felt an odd sort of half-panic, half-hope fill his chest tightly, too
tight he was going to burst with it.

"I am real, Scully. You're the dream."

She sighed and closed her eyes and he thought she might be falling
asleep. But. But did she think that she herself was real and he was not?
Then who was dreaming? He had to be dreaming because she was not here in
her own bedroom with him. But she had just wished for him to be real.

It didn't make any sense.

"Mulder?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm right here."

"I'm afraid. Will you ever find me?"

=-=-=-=

He woke with a scream, jerking straight up from his couch.

His phone was ringing, shrilling like a siren in the still air of his
apartment. The heater kicked on at that moment, combating the 
cold that still suffused the place. Not even fixing it had helped much.

"Mulder," he answered.

"It's me."

"Scully?!"

"Oh. . ." she spoke with a cry. "Oh, Fox. No, I'm sorry. It's
Margaret--"

"Mrs. Scully. I'm. . .sorry. I just woke up--"

"Fox, at Dana's funeral, Mr. Skinner told me that you don't think she's
dead."

Mulder paused, feeling as if someone had just cut him free, and he was
falling now, falling down down down.

"Mrs. Scully. I don't want--"

"But that's how you think, isn't it?"

He sighed heavily and shut his eyes for a moment. If he were wrong. . .

"Yes, it's how I feel."

"Good, because it's how I feel too."

"You-you do?"

"I just keeping thinking that I ought to know she's gone. . .inside me.
Like with Melissa. I know Melissa is gone and I can feel it in me. But I
didn't want to say anything because everyone was so certain and I
thought it was just an old woman's wish. . ."

"Why did you change your mind?" Mulder asked, saying a brief silent
apology to God for keeping Margaret Scully's hopes up.

"Because I dreamed about her tonight. You know how I feel about my
dreams, Fox. Well I dreamed that she was talking to you and was trying
to show you something. You kept asking if it was really her and she kept
saying yes, but she wanted to show you something."

"Show me what?"

"I couldn't see. You were both far off, almost as if you were in another
place. She wanted to show you something before it was too late, but she
never could."

"What do you think your dream means, Mrs. Scully?"

"I think it means that she's being held somewhere. . .that someone has
her and she was trying to show you how to get to her."

Mulder sucked in a shaky breath, feeling as if he would explode.

"Fox?"

"Is it too late to come over, Mrs. Scully?"

"Not at all, Fox. Why?"

"Because I've been having dreams about Scully for three months."

=-=-=-=

"Scully?"

She sighed in relief. "Good, you're back. I thought you wouldn't come."

He shook his head and reached out to touch her, confused.

"Why. . .what's that?" he asked.

She looked down at herself, at the slightly swollen belly that kept her
from seeing her feet. She frowned.

"I-I don't know. You keep telling me this is your dream. . .so why are
you dreaming me like this?"

"I. . .I didn't do it on purpose, Scully."

She looked panicked though, as if she knew the real reasons and they had
just come to her. He reached out and smoothed his hand down her belly,
wishing for it to go away, just to make her stop being afraid.

But it was there, round and perfect and almost like a dream. But wasn't
this a dream anyway?

She was shaking, and she shut her eyes tightly.

"Scully?"

"I don't know what they're doing to me Mulder. . ."

He stiffened, then reached out and grabbed her tightly, pulling her
deeply into his arms, almost as if he could take away all her pain and
hurt and fear with his grip. He breathed in her hair but it was not the
scent he knew of her pillows and sheets, but a different thing entirely.

"Scully, where are you?"

"I keep telling you! I don't know, Mulder, please," she was crying again
and he felt awful.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I won't ask again. I promise."

She nodded into his shoulder, but he could still feel her tears, her
pain.

"I should have. . .I should have told you at the beginning--"

"What? Told me what?"

"I only see myself when you come."

"What do you mean?"

"All the times in between, it's so very bright, like I'm being sucked
into the sun and there's no hearing and no seeing and no feeling. But
then sometimes, you come, and I'm back for a little while."

He nuzzled into her neck, feeling both sick and afraid. She didn't know
she was pregnant because she was trapped somewhere, and she'd only 
found it out when he had come to her at night, in his dreams.

"Are you. . .are you really pregnant, Scully?"

She shivered and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. "I don't know. I don't.
. ."

He could see she was fast about to go crazy, her hands clenching in
fists around his shirt, her body shaking like she would never stop.

"Never mind, never mind," he whispered and stroked her hair, moving his
hands along her body to soothe her. This had to be his dream, had to. No
way would Scully ever let him touch her like this, ever give her
comfort.

"What am I going to do? Oh God, please. . ."

"Never mind, Scully. We can pretend it's. . ."

"Not there? Kind of hard to do, Mulder. I've always been good at it, but
not this good."

"No. No, we'll pretend it's. . .it's natural. Okay, Scully? It's
natural."

She was stiff in his arms, her breathing like pants. "Natural. . .?"

"Ours, Scully. It's ours, and it's going to be okay because I'll be here. 
I promise."

She choked on tears and buried her head back into his arms and chest,
heaving as she tried to breathe without crying. He eased back into the
couch and pulled her tight against him, resting his hands against her
belly, which was not showing so much, just enough for him to notice.

"Ours?" she said again, struggling against tears.

"Yes. Definitely. And when you start to feel afraid and I'm not there,
just close your eyes and pretend that I am. . .it's going to be okay,
Scully."

She shook a bit but nodded against him, accepting his delusion. Her
fingers slowly came to entwine through his, but her heart was thumping
rapidly, like a drum in an Indian war dance, fast and almost off-beat.

"Scully," he whispered and kissed her hair.

She sighed against him and closed her eyes, caught in his feel and touch
and scent and taste, like a dream that was too good to be true.

He ran his hands along her belly, up and down in rhythms and patterns
that changed and flowed as the song in his hands changed and flowed. It
was like he could talk to the baby inside her, and all his fears and
troubles and worries were easing away, just floating right out onto the
wind.

"This is right, Scully."

She nodded, then sighed. "Except neither one of us is real. . ."

=-=-=-=

"Mom, please. Please, stop."

Margaret Scully looked at her oldest son with scorn and a bit of sorrow,
pushing him aside so she could load the dishwasher. Without comment,
Bill Scully handed her glasses and forks and plates, shaking his head.

"Mom, I mean it. I don't want you talking to Mulder."

"Billy, I don't think you have any say in who I see or talk to. Fox is
hurting and I am hurting and we're good for each other."

Bill looked at her incredulously. "Mom! It would be different if you
were grieving. But you're not! You're letting him lead you into a
potentially damaging delusion. . .you're killing yourself with this,
Mom."

"Dana is out there, Bill. I am not giving up on her."

"Mom. . .Mom, please. You can't go on thinking she's going to come home,
you can't keep opening the door with that expectant look on your face. . ."

"I will, Bill. I gave up on her once, gave up! On my own little girl.
I'm not doing that again."

"She's been gone six months, almost *all* of which we have known, for
certain, that she is dead. Dead, Mother. Dana is gone."

Margaret curled her hands around the plate and angrily shoved it into
the dishwasher, ignoring her son's almost frantic pleas. The louder he
got, she knew, the more angry and the more frightened he was.

"She's not, Bill. I should feel her dead in me, but I don't."

"Because you keep letting Fox Mulder tell you she's not."

"But Fox-"

"Mulder is NUTS! He's insane, Mother, and everyone knows it. He talks 
to her in his office, did you know that? In that basement office, he sits
there and talks to her all day. Doesn't get any work done, doesn't move
on at all, just talks to her."

"Because he sees her there, Bill. Maybe just in his head, but he's
keeping in touch with her. He hasn't given up on her, and he never
will."

"Don't you think I'd give anything to have my baby sister back? Mom,
don't you think I'd offer anything?"

Margaret looked up from the sink, her eyes eerily dark in the light of
the kitchen. She took his hands and squeezed them tightly.

"No, Bill. You wouldn't give anything. You wouldn't give up Matthew for
Dana, and you wouldn't give up Tara, either. I understand that, because
you shouldn't anyway. But don't say things like that when you can't
possibly want them to come true."

"Mom. I meant-"

"I know what you meant. But let me tell you something. When Missy died,
that's all I thought about. I prayed over and over for God to somehow
just give her back to me, told God I'd give anything to just see her
again. And one night, Dana knocked on my door and I opened it and she
was sobbing, Billy. Sobbing. I've never seen her cry like that, ever."

"Dana came here?"

Margaret nodded. "And I pulled her inside and hugged her and rocked her,
wishing I knew what hurt her so badly. Then she told me. She said it
over and over. 'Mom, I wish it had been me, instead of Melissa.' She
told me that. Kept sobbing it over and over. It was like God had reached
down and slapped me. I pulled her chin up and made her look at me and 
I told her no. I said, 'No Dana. I do not wish that it had been you
instead.' And I wanted to tell her, I wanted to say that if it had been
her, the hurt would have been no less, but maybe, maybe perhaps even
more."

Bill was looking at his shoes, his hands firmly in his lap but twitching
as he bit on his lip.

"Mom. . ."

"Bill, I would never have traded Melissa for Dana. Or you or Charles. Or
your father. There's a separate thing, in loving your children and your
spouse. And you know that. My love for you is different than my love for
Dana, or Melissa, or Charles. And when Melissa died, I felt that love
just. . .just shatter. It's there, but so broken."

"And you're telling me that your love for Dana is. . .is not shattered?"

"Yes. It's just as whole. It's getting a beating, that's for sure, but
it's not crushed."

"Mom. . .oh, Mom. I just don't want all your love for Dana to be sucked
dry by Mulder. I just don't want you getting hurt because he can't stop
feeling guilty."

"I know, Bill. But you've got to let me do what I feel I have to do."

Bill sighed and reached over to hug his mother, squeezing the tears from
his eyes with the ferocity of his love. If Mulder hurt her. . .

"My plane's at twelve, Mom," he said and kissed her forehead.

"Yes. Go, go. Tara's anxious for you, I know."

He smiled and held her hands with his.

"I know I can be. . .difficult, at times Mom. But I don't want you hurt.
This family has suffered so much. . .I just want you to be okay."

"I am okay, Bill. I'm okay."

He nodded, then stood up, heading for the door. When he twisted the
knob, he remembered something and turned back.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"I've never. . .never crushed your love, have I?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Love's an amazing thing, Bill. It keeps
bouncing back."

=-=-=-=

Part Two

=-=-=-=-=-=-=

When do you think I'll be okay

Do you think I should watch you die
Should we close our eyes and say goodbye

When do you think I'll be okay

--"Miss Blue," filter

=-=-=-=

"Agent Mulder, the one survivor, Beth Lincoln, is now at home."

Mulder licked his lips and tried to place where he was. He had just
woken up, and the smell of pencil shavings and paper and plastic hit him
hard.

"Agent Mulder?"

"Yes sir. I heard."

"Agent Mulder, I have continued to keep this case under your direction,
but unless you start actually working on it, I will be forced to give it
to another agent."

"No sir. You don't need to do that. I'm working on it."

"Mrs. Lincoln told me you haven't even contacted her."

"Sir, there's a lot of loose ends that I'm trying to get nailed down
first. Plus, I figured she would need some time to heal, physically and
mentally."

"Screw that, Agent Mulder. This is about Agent Scully's death. And you
don't seem to be doing that good of a job on the case or coping with it
all."

"I'm fine, sir."

"Then get moving. Start working, be a person again, Mulder."

Mulder held his breath for a moment, then offered more platitudes,
hoping Skinner would let him hang up soon. He and Scully had just 
been talking about one of their earlier cases, and the discussion had 
gotten really interesting when the phone had rung.

"Agent Mulder. I don't mean to sound brutal. I know that you're taking
Scully's death pretty--"

"Sir, with all respect. . .I need to go. I have a lot of work to do. I'm
way behind."

There was terse silence, then a gruff dismissal as Skinner hung up the
phone.

Mulder sighed and dropped the receiver to his desk. He shut his eyes and
laid his head back down on his arms, relaxing again.

<Scully>

=-=-=-=

"I don't want to think about names, yet."

He shrugged. "Okay. What do you want to do?"

"Are we stuck here?"

"Where's here?"

"Um. I don't know. Where are you?"

"In my apartment."

"Oh. Oh. Can we dance?"

He smiled and moved to the radio, tugging on her hand for her to follow
him. She waited patiently until he had found a radio station playing
soft delicate blues, then allowed him to pull her into his arms.

"What's playing?"

"I don't know the name."

She frowned and tried very hard to hear the music, but it was difficult.
It took more imagining than she had.

But he began to dance, the beat in time with the gentle rhythm of his
feet and his hips against hers. She let it wash her away, forgetting the
brightness and the fear. She was with Mulder again. Everything was 
okay with Mulder.

He touched her hair, her cheek, her belly. Everything about her was so
delicate, so beautiful, so moving. He wanted to be able to protect her
all the time, her and the baby, but he could only see her in dreams. He
slept half the day and pretended she was still there while he was at the
office.

He stroked her back, kneading the muscles at her spine and causing a
soft sharp sigh to issue from her lips. She melted against him, mush in
his arms.

"How is everything going?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Fine."

"I mean-"

"I know what you mean, but I just don't know until you come, Mulder.
There's only that brightness in between the reality. I think maybe
you're making this all up. That's my latest theory. I think I'm really
actually dead and you keep pulling me back to earth."

But she sighed and he knew that she was entirely too conscious during
the bright periods to really believe it.

"I come as much as I can."

"I know. And I don't want you coming often. Because then you're not
looking for me."

Mulder stiffened, his arms tight around her now.

"Y-. . .I'm looking for you," he said softly.

"It frightens me sometimes, Mulder. You're here so often now, and I
really really love it, I do. It makes me feel so safe when you're here.
But also, I know this is just a dream I'm having. And when I wake,
you'll be gone. But if it's a dream for you and we meet in our dreams,
then it means you're sleeping as much as I am."

He struggled on a sigh and a laugh. "I do sleep a lot, just to see you."

"You're not looking for me anymore?"

She was suddenly panicked and he gripped her shoulders tightly. "No. 
No, Scully. I'm looking, I'm always looking. Constantly. I've talked to the
boy at the gas station four hundred times. He tells me the same thing
every time: you got gas, paid with your credit card, then drove towards
the bridge. Every time nothing changes. No new cars, customers, 
nothing. I drive by there every day before work, go and get gas or 
sunflower seeds or whatever."

"Every day?" she whispered.

"Yes. He's going to college next semester. . .it made me almost panic. I
gave him my card, told him to call if anything changed. But he stuck it
in his back pocket and I know that his mother washed his jeans and now
my phone number is rubbed off and I'll never know."

"Never?"

"I don't think he'll ever have anything different to say, but it was just in 
case."

"Yes, just in case."

He pulled her tighter against him, but he felt awful and sick and almost
depressed. He began thinking about what he was doing, about how much
time he spent in dreams, how he had built his life around a dream of
Dana Scully.

A dream. That's what it came down to, right? This was a dream. His
fantasies so real and touchable that he was being pulled down into them.

If she really was still out there, then what good was he doing her by
sleeping away all the day? And if she was dead, he should kill himself
and get on with it. His dreams were nice, but they weren't real. He
wanted her real before him.

"Mulder?"

He glanced down and realized that she was shifting, fading, shimmering,
like a light winking on and off and on and off. Like a far away star
that was slowly burning out. But, just like stars, she had burned out a
long time ago, thousands of years ago, and only now could he see it.

Only now.

He bent forward and kissed her lips, gently and tenderly, wanting to
have his dream taste of her on his tongue and mouth for forever. For a
thousand more years of nothing.

And then she was gone and he was awake on his couch, alone and in
darkness.

He sighed.

He had always known his dreams had the power to choke out his life.

=-=-=-=

"Did you find something new, Fox?"

He sighed as he walked into her house, shutting the door firmly behind
him and locking it. The actions were routine now, habit.

He bent down and kissed her cheek.

"No, Mom. Nothing new. I. . .I wanted to talk to you."

She nodded and led him towards the kitchen, where they always talked, 
at least once a week, sometimes more. Coffee was just starting to drip 
and she pulled out two mugs, smiling to herself.

"What's wrong, Fox?"

He smiled back at her, shaking his head.

"Have you had any more dreams about Scully?"

"Just that first one. That first night. Nothing more."

"The one of her trying to show me something."

"Right," she said and sat down with him at the kitchen table. "How about
you?"

"I. . .I haven't let myself sleep long enough to dream. . ."

She took his hands anxiously, and he wondered if she was going to hate
him for not dreaming of her daughter, for not keeping that last link.

"Fox, you need to sleep. . ."

He felt that grateful relief flood through him, knowing that she cared
for him apart from Dana, apart from the fact that he brought her a kind
of demented hope that he should have let go of long ago.

"I can't. I. . .Sometimes I've been able to sleep all the way through
the night and not dream of her once, and that scares me more than
forcing myself to not see her."

"I understand. Sometimes I wake up and I have to run for the photo
albums to make sure I know what she looks like."

Mulder stared at her. "That's it. That's exactly. . .I'm afraid of
waking up one day and not being able to remember her."

Margaret looked at him sadly and then pulled her new son into her arms,
letting him softly cry into her shoulder and she wept herself. Such pain
for them, and they continued to believe, continued to go through the
motions of life with the expectant hope that Dana would come back.

"Why don't you want to dream, Fox?"

"Mom, I can't. I end up spending my life dreaming. . .just dreaming. I
sleep all day, I go to work and I don't do anything. And then I feel
guilty because I *don't* want to sleep away the rest of my life. . ."

"What do you think she would have wanted, Fox? For you to suffer, or 
for you to carry on in her name? She always told me about the X-Files, 
never in detail, but enough for me to know she loved her work."

"Yes. I hope she did. . .did. Do you realize what we're doing?"

Margaret closed her eyes and sighed, letting the truth wash over her
like rain on a dirty sidewalk, pushing away all the leaves, the mud, the
broken bottles. All the things she wanted to hold on to just in case,
but knew she couldn't. Not if she were to live.

"Yes. We're letting her go. Past tense. . .it's always going to be in
past tense."

Mulder blinked rapidly to clear the tears and shuddered out a long
breath.

"Mom, there're things I haven't told you, about the dreams," he said,
and he could not look at her.

"Fox. No matter what, you've become like a son to me. These months,
almost ten months now that she's been gone. . .you've held me up, 
you've let me enjoy Dana again and again."

"I feel awful for prolonging your hope, for making you think she would
walk in the door."

"No. Never feel that way. I could sit and listen to you and your dreams
all day Fox. You give me a look at my daughter, a new look. I can see
love and hope and good things when you talk about her."

"My dreams. Mom. In my dreams, I would talk to her all the time. We
would talk about things we had never talked about. I'm closer to the
dream version of Scully than I ever was to the real her. Part of that is
because I always wanted to talk to her, always wanted to be closer, 
and so I relieve that grief by dreaming."

"Sometimes, Fox, dreams are the best methods to work through our 
pain."

"I know. But I took it too far. I didn't tell you this, but. . .one night I 
fell asleep and I saw her there, in front of me and watching me. I 
looked up and she. . .she was pregnant. All of the sudden. Not far
along, but still showing. . .I. . ."

Mulder shrugged and buried his head in his hands, trying to forget the
shame in his heart for wanting that with her when she was gone, wanting
that when she could have never given it to him in the first place.

"It's okay, Fox. You were just trying to be happy, in your own way.
You're not dishonoring her memory by wanting to be happy with her."

"We never could be happy, Mom. Never could get past real life to just. .
.just stop pretending. . ."

"What makes you think you have to stop dreaming now, Fox? What's 
wrong with going to sleep and finding her there?"

"I. . .A few months ago we were talking. . .well, I was talking to her.
And she asked me why I had stopped looking for her."

Margaret sighed and stood up next to her black sheep son, her adopted
love, pulling his head to her stomach, hugging him tightly. He needed so
much love, this poor child, needed so much understanding and acceptance.
She wanted to give that to him, for Dana's sake as well as his own. 

"You haven't stopped, Fox--"

"I have though! I stopped. I stopped. Somewhere in me, I decided that it
was just easier with her in my mind. I could say whatever I wanted and
we would fight maybe, but we were close and we were together. It was 
so much better. . .and yet, so much worse. So I stopped looking. I
pretended to go on with it, I interviewed people and I went over that
bridge a million times. But I didn't really look."

"Fox. You cannot blame yourself for recognizing the plausibility of Dana
being dead. You cannot beat yourself up for liking it better in your
head." She laughed a bit and kissed his forehead, realizing that her
time with Mulder had strengthened her against the reality of Dana's
death. Fox had made her see the good continuously, had made her 
force away the depression of her absence.

"I like it better in my head, too," she added. "You just can't let
yourself get caught there."

"That's why I. . .I don't dream anymore. For the past few weeks I've
gotten a good four hours a night."

"Only four?"

"Better than passing out at five thirty in the morning and waking at
six."

Margaret Scully sighed and stepped over to grab his coffee mug, shaking
her head.

"No coffee for you, huh?"

He grinned at her and shook his head. "I guess not."

She took a deep breath and looked in his eyes, watching all the swirling
of emotion there, trying to shore herself up for the rest of her life
with the devotion in his eyes.

"I'm not saying that you should stop looking for her, Fox. Just that
life needs to move on."

He nodded once, quickly, and had the decency to stand and give her a
kiss.

"Thanks, Mom. I. . .without your support, I don't where I'd be."

She smiled a delighted grin and patted his cheek.

"You're like a son, Fox. I keep telling you that."

Fox smiled back and picked up his light jacket. Fall winds had created a
sweeping dark sky outside and the perfect weather for a storm. He noted
the gentle speckling of rain outside while she walked him to the door.

"If you have any trouble tonight, just call."

She kissed him goodbye and shut the door behind him, promising to call.
He waited until he heard the lock click and then started down her steps,
feeling right again. 

Margaret Scully moved to the living room, forgetting the coffee pot in
favor of the pictures on her mantel. She had two of Dana and Fox
together, smiling and maybe content, if not perfectly happy. She also
had one of them in a spirited discussion, as Dana had so often called
it, and their eyes had been so very bright, so filled with joy.

When Fox came to her house and opened himself up, when he told his
dreams like stories or shared her grief, that brightness was not there. 

Dana had always told her mother that Fox Mulder was a hard man to care
for, a hard man to love or comfort because he was very good at guilt. He
had a way of sucking people down into that kind of sorrow and torment,
and Scully had enough troubles of her own to keep her down. But still,
Dana had tried to love him, had stayed and stuck with him.

Margaret actually found it easier to love Fox than her other sons. Fox
showed her exactly what he needed and offered his pitiful help or
intense love as a gift back to her. Her own sons did not want her to be
a mother anymore, but Fox needed a mother.

Maybe Dana had gotten weary of him, but she had him constantly at her
side, always at her door, forever dependent or needy but never letting
himself show it.

But that was all over now.

Margaret slumped to the couch with the frames cradled in her hands,
shaking with her fresh sobs. Fresh grief, fresh sorrow, fresh. A raw
wound that she had ignored for so long.

It could not be ignored any longer.

Dana was dead.

=-=-=-=

Part Three

=-=-=-=

I don't believe in
I don't believe in your sanctity
A hypocrisy
Could everyone agree that
No one should be left alone

--"Take a Picture" filter

=-=-=-=

Mulder was ready to scream with his frustration, but he had to be
absolutely in control, absolutely sane. The car was smooth and tightly
controlled under his hands, and the road stretched forever in all
directions. Everything was so quiet, so silent, and he wanted to scream.
He was boiling inside, rage-filled, yet also so ashamed.

If he had done this ten months ago, maybe she would be with him instead
of alone. Maybe he would know the truth, maybe the mystery of her bones
would not haunt him.

The directions were easy enough and he managed to arrive at the woman's
house with fifteen minutes to spare before the interview, but he was too
on edge to wait.

"Oh, Agent Mulder. Mom's inside."

The boy waved him in and shut the door tightly after the FBI agent.

"I'm locking it now, Mom!" he called and the dead bolt clicked with a
heavy thick sound that made Mulder feel just a little sick. 

The boy shook hands with a firm grip that belied the scrawny chest and
stick legs.

"I'm Nick. Mom's in the living room. I hope you don't mind, but I'm
going to have to take your gun."

Mulder nodded. "Your mom mentioned it on the phone."

He pulled out his service weapon, emptied the chambers, then handed over
the SIG. The bullets he stuck in his pocket and winked at the kid.

"There you go."

"Thanks. I appreciate your understanding."

Mulder nodded and followed the kid around to he living room. He did not
offer the weapon in his ankle holster because he was never one to trust
safety to a freaked out woman and her son. Besides, the woman would 
not know he had another gun. She would feel safe enough knowing he 
had given over his service weapon.

"Mom, this is Agent Mulder."

The woman licked her lips and nodded, looking anxiously to the gun in
her son's hands, then sighed with relief.

"Agent Mulder," she said and her voice was strained. 

Calmly, Mulder took in Beth Lincoln's extensive burns, the flesh that
was stretched too tight across one cheek and made half of her mouth
smile eternally. She was only thirty three and her son, Nick, was
twelve, but she looked old. She looked haggard and dying.

Nick leaned over and kissed his mother's lips, the only part of her not
painfully sensitive to touch. Then the boy left Agent Mulder and his
mother alone.

"He's growing up too fast," Beth sighed.

"Because of the fire?"

"Yes. I. . .wish he had some time to himself, but every four hours I've
got to take these injections, to help replenish the natural electrolytes
in my body that I lose. . ."

"It must be hard on the both of you."

"Yes."

Beth couldn't move her arms or legs while her injuries healed, and she
could only move a fraction with her neck, before the stretching would
pull apart skin grafts or newly healed flesh. She was also in an
experimental project that was growing skin in labs with cloning
technology and then being grafted on. Mulder didn't ask how it was
going.

Beth wasn't supposed to be alive and she knew it. She thanked God 
every day she woke and still saw her son, still watched the birds 
hopping from branch to branch, still had friends drop by.

Sometimes, though, she had horrible nightmares about the fire makers
coming for her and taking her back to that bridge, then burning her
alive. Like the others.

"You want to know about your partner?"

"Yes. You said you saw her there."

"I did. I was standing right next to her. . .in my dreams."

"In your dreams?"

"My nightmares are like flashbacks, Agent Mulder. And no, they're not
repressed. Repression is a bunch of crap, if you ask me. If repression
worked, no one would ever have to mourn, right? Because they'd just
repress it all."

"What makes you think this isn't repression?"

"Because every hour I'm awake, I see it replay in my head. Over and
over. I live in constant fear that they'll come back for me. That's why
Nickie calls out when he locks the door, it's why I didn't want you to
have your gun."

"Then why do you only see my partner in your dreams?"

"Because I mainly relive the parts where everyone is on fire, and I
don't remember seeing your partner on fire."

Mulder felt his heart wildly fishtail within him, like a car speeding
out of control.

"What do you see, Mrs. Lincoln?"

"At night, I guess I have no control over it all. I first see the bridge, and 
I see Nick's face--"

"Nick was there that night?" Mulder asked sharply. How had he missed
this?

"Well yes. He's the reason I escaped. He stayed in the car and when they
came, Nick ran out and got me. He pushed me into the car and wrapped 
me in his coat to put the fire out. . .my own baby, my poor Nick had to
watch it all. . ."

"Do you think it would be possible for me to talk to him?"

"I don't think it's such a good idea. I don't want him picked over. . .he's 
had enough trouble. Besides, your partner was nowhere near me when
everyone was burning."

"Why not?"

She shrugged. "She must have moved. All I know is, at night I see her
standing there, looking up and I'm wondering what she's looking for. I
wonder if she's done this before and expects the plane."

Mulder nodded thoughtfully, but he felt frustrated again. Beth Lincoln
had been the only survivor, not counting Scully he amended mentally, 
and she had only recently been able to talk. She was healing, and she 
needed the mental healing as well.

"So. . .why do you say a plane?"

"Because it passed over us."

"A plane?"

"Yes."

Mulder frowned, licking his lips. "What kind of plane?"

"Oh, I'd never seen it before. But my father used to work on planes for
the Navy, yes Navy, Agent Mulder. They have planes. I've been around
planes my whole life, and that was a plane."

"What made you decide it was a plane?"

"It was flying?" she said, bewildered. "And it had its running lights
on, like planes are supposed to do, along with bright landing lights.
I've never been directly under a plane like that when it lands, and I
didn't realize they were so bright."

"Did the plane land?"

"No. It sort of hovered. . .which isn't something I've seen planes do
before either. . .come to think of it, the only plane that can hover is
the Vertical Takeoff but. . ."

Mulder debated mentioning aliens, but then he decided against it. 
She was already frightened enough already without adding some 
grey creature who could paralyze her in her bed and take her from 
her locked home.

"So anyway, it hovered and then sort of hummed away. I was busy 
watching the plane and thinking about how beautifully it moved to 
notice the fire."

"Do you know why the fires started?"

"Yes. Men came and burned everyone. They had sticks, fire starters, 
and they went around and pointed, pointed. . .they came from both 
sides of the bridge and we were trapped. I saw people jump into the 
river and drown. I saw Nick running for me and I realized that I was on 
fire too. . ."

Men. The time before, Scully had said they were faceless men. 

"What did the men look like?"

She shivered, which caused a wince of pain to ricochet through her 
body.

"They were scarred all over. Their mouths were sealed shut and their
eyes and noses. I didn't understand how they could see us, how they
could be breathing. . ."

Mulder nodded and sighed. "Nick hasn't mentioned anything to you about
it?"

"No. He doesn't like talking to me about it. His therapist won't tell me
anything."

"Patient confid--"

"Yes, yes. It's a load of crock, Agent Mulder. His well being is at
stake, and if the therapist won't talk to me about it, then how am I
supposed to know what to avoid, what to confront? I'm blind here, and
her confidential mess is making it worse."

"I'm sorry."

"You don't know the half of it."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Did you ever go missing for months or weeks, or any time at all in the
past?"

She stiffened, almost as if he had read her mind.

"When I was nineteen. . .I was gone for a month and when I got back, 
my fiance was in jail for it and my Dad. . .my father was different. I've
always wondered if he knew. . ."

"Thank you for talking with me, Mrs. Lincoln. Is your husband home?"

She closed her eyes briefly then sighed softly. "No. He's at work. He's
not the one who did it, you know. I would have known if it were him."

"No. I don't think he kidnapped you when you were nineteen."

"Good, good. I don't want him in more trouble. He's had to fight to stay
at the State Department whenever it comes up in a criminal background
check."

"State Department?"

"Yes. Oh. Oh no. Maybe he didn't tell you. I'm not supposed to say it.
Agent Mulder, please don't mention it."

He shook his head. "I won't. I won't breathe a word."

She sighed in relief and Nick came back in.

"I'll walk Agent Mulder to his car, Mom."

"And you give him that gun back, son."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good boy. Thank you for talking with me Agent Mulder."

Mulder tipped his head and nodded to her. "No, thank you."

Nick pushed him towards the door and when they were outside with 
the door securely closed, the boy stopped him with a hand.

"Look, I know my Mom doesn't want me talking to you, but I need to 
say this."

Mulder glanced around then nodded. Nick handed him his weapon and
watched him reload it carefully, pointing away from the boy and away
from the house or neighbors.

"That night. . .I saw some things."

"I guess you saw a lot of things, huh, Nick?"

"Yeah. I've also been to Roswell with my Dad, walked around their
museums, seen all that UFO stuff. I've even heard about you and your
partner."

Mulder glanced to him in shocked suspicion. "You have? Closet UFO
believer?"

"Not really. I've just been interested. But what I want to say is. . .that 
thing wasn't a plane. My mom's good at deluding herself. . .she does 
it about Dad a lot. Dad's a good guy, but he's into some bad stuff,
just like my grandfather was."

"How do you know this, Nick?"

"Adults aren't too careful around kids. Mom's. . .been gone before, you
know? Not just when she was nineteen, but more recently. Once when 
I was five, we had a class party and my Mom didn't come. I had to lie 
to my teacher and tell her she was at a doctor's appointment. I guess 
Mom doesn't like to think it's real."

"She's pretty adamant about there being no such thing as repression. . ."

"Oh, it isn't repressed. It's happened. . .like fugues, you know what I
mean? Black periods. But she's gone from us too."

"Was she diagnosed with fugues?"

"Not that I know of."

Mulder remembered his gun and pushed it into his holster, closing his
jacket around the lump in his side.

"Agent Mulder, also. . .I saw your partner too. At first because she was
right next to my Mom and I remember thinking how beautiful she looked.
Almost like an angel. I was afraid and I thought maybe she would protect
my Mom and I wouldn't have to."

Mulder took his shoulder in one grip, gentle but reaffirming. "That's
understandable. That night. . .there was a lot of bad stuff going on,
Nick."

"Yeah. And then I watched the ship. It was definitely a UFO, but that
doesn't mean it was aliens, Agent Mulder, just unidentified. And then
your partner was gone."

"Gone?"

"Just gone. I was distracted by the plane for a moment, but I looked
over to your partner, thinking she would know what to do and she wasn't
there. When everyone started burning, I ran looking for my mom and for
that angel. I found my Mom, but I didn't see the angel anywhere."

Mulder felt his knees shaking, his stomach churning. He leaned heavily
against the car's hood, swallowing the bile that refused to stay down.
He put his head in his hands and breathed shallowly.

"I'm sorry, Agent Mulder. I looked for her. . ."

"No. It's not your fault. Not at all. You did a great job getting your
Mom out of there. If Agent Scully wasn't there, then she just wasn't."

Nick looked confused and he shrugged.

"Thanks, Nick, for talking to me."

"I had to talk to someone. It was like a weight on me, you know? I
couldn't shake the feeling that I shouldn't have stopped looking at the
angel. . .I should have saved her too."

"No. You were a hero that night, Nick. And by telling me this, you're
being pretty brave all over again."

"I don't feel so brave."

Mulder smiled at him and unlocked his car door, watching Nick turn and
head back into the house. He waited until he could hear the kid shout
that the door was locked, then stepped into his car. The engine started
cleanly and smoothly, and Mulder backed out and onto the street.

Scully had disappeared that night.

But she had vanished before the fire.

=-=-=-=

He was just walking inside his apartment, fresh with fear for Scully and
fresh with hope, thinking of all the different things Nick's words could
mean. Scully could have been taken up by that ship, or maybe she had 
run off, then gotten amnesia--

The thoughts were interrupted by a sudden stab to his heart, like a
knife except when he looked around, no one was attacking him. He 
felt it again and he tried to walk to his couch, to the phone. Maybe 
it was a heart attack. God, please no. He had to find her before he 
died. . .

Blackness hit him like a stage curtain and then rose again, letting some
dim light filter through.

"Mulder?!"

He woke to her voice and saw Scully on a table, her hands in tight
fists, her legs propped on metal rungs. She was in labor, her hair wild
and sweaty across her forehead, and her eyes had been screwed up 
tight.

"Scully. . ."

"Oh God, please don't let this be happening. . ."

"Scully, are you okay?"

She glanced over at him and choked on her fear, holding her hand out 
to him. Mulder grabbed it and pulled her into his embrace, his tears 
like waterfalls down his cheeks.

"Why didn't you come?" she whimpered, the pain hitting her again.

"Because. . .I was looking for you."

"But. . ."

"I'm here now, right?"

"You promised to be here through it all. . .Mulder, I'm afraid. I don't
know what this is."

He felt his heart clutch around him and he noticed that there were no
doctors, no nurses, no one to help her if she got in trouble.

"How. . .how are you supposed to deliver?"

"They'll come in. . .right before. But I was all alone. . .and I called
for you, I just called and called and now you're here."

"I'm sorry I didn't come before. I'm sorry."

She was concentrating on breathing and he watched her, not knowing 
what to do. He hadn't really thought she would ever again show up in 
his dreams, and not nine months pregnant and about to deliver.

When the contraction passed, he leaned down and kissed her hard, 
his grief and regret spilling over into her lips. She sucked it down like
water and then kissed healing into his eyes and chin and cheeks.

"It's okay," she whispered. "You're here now."

He nodded and pushed her into a sitting position, then let her lean
against his side while he rubbed two fingers in her lower back. She
groaned and went still, her head falling forward with the relief.

"Is this going to be natural?" he asked, his breathing slightly
panicked.

"I don't know. . .wait, the baby or the labor?"

He wanted to laugh but it was way too serious a question. "I guess
either."

"Natural birth. . .not so sure about the baby. . .I want it to be ours. . ."

"I understand. I understand. Just relax and try not to think too much."

She gave him a small smile and wrapped her arms around his neck, 
kissing his throat and the places she could reach.

"You know it's impossible for me to not think."

"Yeah." 

He grinned at her, wondering again why he had spent so much time 
trying to get away from this, away from the easy love between them 
and the sharing. It was so much better here, in his head, and obviously, 
he had been stressed enough to need this again.

She shuddered as contractions waved through her, and then four
white-smocked men walked into the room, except Mulder had never 
noticed them open a door or even appear. But it was as if they had 
always been there, walking towards them and only now got closer.

"Is that them?" he whispered and she nodded.

"It's going to be okay," he said again and stroked the hair from her
face. She looked ready to crash in, to give up and cry or scream or just
curl in on herself and die. He didn't like that look in her eyes.

"Why don't they notice me here?" he said and watched the men hook 
her up to different machines, all these different machines and tubes 
and buttons and computers. . .

He saw a fetal monitor, and it looked pretty normal to him, but he
wasn't an expert. He told her the baby looked okay anyway and she 
looked so relieved it made him hurt. She'd been alone with her fears 
and worries and the baby growing within her and he had just 
abandoned --

He shook his head. No. This was a dream. He had not abandoned her.

"Here we go," she whispered and her hands around his arm were tight 
and painful, gripping him fiercely. 

Mulder tensed but stayed perched behind her, holding her in a better
position, letting her lean against him when the wave would pass for a
few seconds. Then she would almost cry and it would be on her again 
and he wondered if this was normal, this intense pain in her and the 
way she seemed so very weary already, so ready to quit.

"It's okay, Scully. It's gonna be okay," he whispered.

"Too fast," she mumbled and closed her eyes.

"No, no, Scully. You've got to open your eyes and do this. You can't
fall asleep."

Another contraction overtook her and she arched up, whimpering and
letting the tears fall down her face. Mulder felt everything around him
like he had cotton in his ears, slowed down and thumping, far away and
stifled. She was crying and the machines were beeping and he could 
hear a heartbeat, but he didn't know if it was his or hers or the baby's.

The heartbeat was reverberating through him and then her scream cut
through it all and she was so stiff and taut in his arms, like she was
being ripped apart and he had the awful feeling that this was too real,
this was *not* a dream, and he hadn't been there.

"Mulder," she panted and he leaned forward and kissed her, again and
again, giving her his strength, feeling it leach from him and into her.
She could breathe again, she lifted her head up, she could push again.

Mulder could see that the doctors were surprised, almost as if they
hadn't expected her to have the strength to deliver, as if they had been
prepared to cut her up and leave her for dead.

He knew they didn't see him, knew that they could not understand why 
she kept calling his name in whispered panicked breaths.

And then the baby was free, slick and bloodied, his nose being wiped
clean and his mouth opening and crying. Crying so loud.

Scully laughed with the sound and turned to him, her eyes so bright from
pain and pleasure all mixed and he leaned down and kissed her, not too
hard so she could catch her breath, smiling and smiling.

"It's a boy, Scully," he said because he knew she could not see him.

She sighed and closed her eyes in relief, her tears like soothing
fingers.

He let her lie there and went around to see the baby, to watch the
doctors and make sure they did not mess with anything. They cut the 
cord and all of them were surprised, were wondering.

"It's all human," a person said and Mulder turned to see a fancy
machine, with a little vial of blood being looked at. He saw the
person's face but realized he could not tell if it were a woman or a
man.

"All human?" another said, frowning.

"Yes. How did that happen?"

"I. . .Something must have gone wrong."

"We. . .we're going to be in trouble. She's special. . .we just screwed
it up."

"You be careful with that baby," someone else said and Mulder watched
with hawk eyes as they laid the boy in a plastic, basin-type crib,
wrapping him with a blanket and cleaning him carefully.

"If we did it right and it's all human, then this is going to be a very
special baby," someone added.

Mulder reached out and stroked the baby boy's cheek, smiling at the
thick black hair and the squenched up eyes.

"Mulder?" she whispered.

He came back to where she was trying to sit up.

"Shh, Scully. He's okay. He's all. . .all human. Perfect. They're not
going to hurt him. They think he's special."

She smiled softly and sighed. "I wish they'd let me see him."

Mulder hugged her gently and stroked her hair, but a shimmer of pain
lanced through her.

"What's wrong?"

"Afterbirth," she explained and held her breath. 

"Does it hurt?"

"Not at all. . .or maybe I'm so dulled to it I can't tell," she said,
smiling a bit. Mulder saw a doctor come over and deliver the afterbirth,
then seal it away in a bag and label it. Weird. He wondered what they
would need it for.

And then, while most of the doctors left, fighting to themselves about
what a whole human baby could mean, one of the others came up with 
the baby. There were two others in the room besides he and Scully, 
and they seemed nicer.

"Here," the other one whispered and Mulder had to believe it was a
woman. "I thought you'd like to hold him. He ought to see your face. 
You worked so hard for him."

The nurse held out the baby and placed him in Scully's arms, moving 
away so that she could watch but not interfere. Mulder leaned down 
and stroked his cheek, his finger running alongside Scully's.

"We never got to talk about names," she whispered to him and looked 
up.

He grinned. "I guess not."

She looked back to her baby and kissed his forehead, wishing he'd open
his eyes to see both of them, his father and mother.

"I want to name him after you," she said.

"No. No way, Scully. No Fox."

She quirked her lips at him but her eyelids were heavy with exhaustion.

"No. I wouldn't do that to you," she said. "But William. I want to name
him William."

The nurse smiled. "That's a beautiful name. I'll make sure to tag him,
so he'll get to keep his mother's choice."

Scully glanced in bewilderment to the woman, then sort of snuck Mulder 
a tight grin.

"Yes, it is a beautiful name."

Mulder kissed his boy and then Scully, feeling as if nothing could ever
go wrong to him again. He had them both, he had--

a dream. He had a dream.

"I have to take him for now, Mom. But we'll be back. Since he's, well,
human, they'll probably let him stay with you. They won't want to waste
time with him."

Scully's face shone through the dimness of the room like a light and
Mulder felt panic and relief course through him at the same time. Scully
handed the woman the baby and ran her fingers one last time down his
cheek.

"See you later, little Will," she whispered.

Mulder felt himself fading, fading, the vision of her growing dimmer
until there was nothing but darkness.

=-=-=-=

He woke to find an egg lump his head and a thick headache, like his
brains were swimming in scar tissue and broth. One arm was twisted
painfully under him and his keys were sprawled across the floor. He must
have fainted from lack of sleep, he figured.

The dream had been characteristically real and yet not, all at the same
time. It had been nice to see her, to remember her again, and the birth
of their son. . .

Except it was not real, he remembered. Not at all real. Still something
to hold on to, in case she was still alive, still out there waiting for him 
to find her. If he did, no, *when* he did find her, he would tell her how 
much she meant to him. How much he loved her. Maybe even, they
would get married and have a family. They could adopt.

Mulder smiled to himself and realized that his dreams only encouraged
him more to stop wasting his life (and hers) with the fantasies, and
concentrate on the realities. He had some great leads now, and if he 
had been careful before and not so caught up in his dreams, he might 
have gotten these leads before they were so cold.

He grabbed his keys from the floor and shrugged off his suit jacket. He
pulled it off and was working on the buttons to his shirt when he
noticed the stains against his chest, like small pink Kool-Aid had been
dabbled--

Blood. He sniffed his shirt cautiously and then ripped it off, checking
his undershirt, and then his own chest for marks or cuts. How had the
blood gotten on his chest?

It looked smeared, almost as if he had wiped his fingers across his
shirt and--

He froze, his heart hammering triples and positively swooning. 

He bent forward and smelled his finger carefully, almost afraid.

But it did not smell like the baby, or the blood, or the labor of it all. 
It did not smell like Scully's sweat and tears as she fought to stay 
conscious, and it did not smell like a baby boy who was all human,
all special.

He slumped into his couch and cradled his head in his hands, sobbing.
The hope in him always swung so wildly, up and then so down, and 
then amazingly up and it was all too much for him.

Just too much.

=-=-=-=

He wouldn't tell her. That was it. No more strange and far away hope
dangled in front of her by his own shaking hands. He would not put
Scully's mother through that any longer. He would just not mention it.
Not Nick's words nor his so real dream that had turned out to be nothing
but stress. Margaret had warned him about not getting any sleep.

She asked how the cases were going and he talked about the supposed
werewolves that were preying on frightened teenaged couples while they
made out in the woods. Mulder made her laugh with his presentation of
the X-file and she reminded him to be careful, to let his backup know
where he was going.

It was such a Scully thing to say. He smiled at her and talked about the
case he had just finished, amazed at himself even, at how much he was
getting done now that he hardly slept and had focused again.

He had four solved cases within the last three months. Making it a total
of one year and one month since Scully had been gone, dead or otherwise.
He had nothing new beside the fragile testimony of a boy who had watched
his mother burn, but he had a kind of strange hope.

A hope that he could find her, if she was out there. 

=-=-=-=

Part Four

=-=-=-=

I am a bloodsoaked man
I can't believe the things I've done to you
I am a guilty man
I can't believe the things I've done to you
I am a grieving man
I can't believe the things I've done to you

--"Captain Bligh" filter

=-=-=-=

Assistant Director Skinner watched his agent with a careful eye,
trained after years in the Marines to detect those slight changes that
would reveal madness. Many in Vietnam had fallen to the Viet Cong, yes,
but many had also fallen to the bloodshed, to the visions that would not
leave, to the nightmares and killing and hardness.

Agent Mulder had seemed ready to plunge into darkness those first three
months, and then after that, he had showed at work but had slept, or
talked to himself, or been strangely disconnected from everyone else. 

After a year and a month, Mulder was tight lipped and intensely driven.
His solve rate was higher than he and Scully's had been for their last
year and a half and he came in to work on Saturdays and Sunday
afternoons. Skinner even had it on good authority that Mulder attended
church with Margaret Scully on Sunday mornings.

"Was there a reason for this meeting?" Mulder asked.

Skinner felt guilty for the sudden hope and fear that flamed in Mulder's
eyes. He thought Skinner would have information about Scully.

"I just wanted to see how you're doing. It's been a little over a
year--"

"Yes sir. I recognize that it's been one year and one month and thirteen
days."

Skinner felt the breath knock from him and he leaned back, stunned.

"If you want, I can even calculate the hours and minutes and maybe even
the seconds, but we never did get an exact time."

"Sarcasm does not wear well on you, Agent Mulder."

"Oh, sir. Sarcasm? I'm sorry, I was trying very hard to be insolent.
Maybe it didn't come off right."

Waves of furiousness crashed over the AD and he carefully composed 
his face and hands and posture, trying to stern his features over his
annoyance.

"Agent Mulder. If you want to continue working here, then you will do
your hardest to impress me with your--"

"I'm sorry, sir. But I just can't play games. I don't have time for
politics, if you must know. Scully's out there, and I'm going to find
her. Is that what you wanted to know? That I'm still crazy? Well, 
there you go. Tell them all. I don't care."

Mulder stood, dismissing himself, realizing that he could really and
truly be fired for his behavior, but not caring. Maybe later he would
regret losing the resources and influence of the FBI, but he was so 
very sick of the way people looked at him.

"Agent Mulder."

He turned despite himself and looked in Skinner's eyes.

"I don't think it's crazy, what you're doing. I think it's fanatic, at
the extreme. It's devotion taken a bit too far. I recognize that this is
a loss of uncomparable--"

"Sir, I don't think it's wise to continue this. I'm going to say
something I regret."

Skinner watched him for a moment, feeling his jaw tense and bunch, 
his thick shoulders hunch as if someone were breathing down his 
neck. And maybe someone was.

"All right then Mulder. You're dismissed. Your solve rate is good enough
to give you some immunity."

"Yes, and that's really all that's important, isn't it?"

Mulder opened the door, shaking his head and sighing.

=-=-=-=

"Is uh, Agent Mulder there?"

"Yes, this is Mulder."

He rubbed his eyes and brought the phone away from his mouth as he
yawned.

"Uh, yes sir. This is Nick. Uh, Nick-"

"Lincoln. What's the matter?"

"Oh. Nothing. Nothing. I just thought of something the other day, and I
was wondering if you wanted to know-"

"Yes. What do you remember?"

"Um. Well. Hold on, my Mom is yelling for me."

There was a strained silence as Mulder waited for the boy to pick up 
the phone again. What could Nick have remembered, and could it help 
Mulder find Scully again?

"Uh, Agent Mulder?"

"I'm here. Is everything all right?"

"Yeah. Look, is there some place I can meet you? This is gonna require a
discussion, and I think I'm going to get in trouble. . ."

"In trouble? Why?"

"My Dad. . ."

"Your Dad will be angry at you?"

"Yeah. Um, can I see you today somewhere? Somewhere close to my 
house so I can ride my bike out."

"Sure. Sure. Where's a good place for you, Nick?"

"Uh, lots of guys hang out at the Y. . .uh, that's the YMCA, down on
Yates Street."

"Okay, sure. I know where you're talking about."

"Good. I can get away before dark, that's it. So maybe five?"

"Five o'clock today?"

"Is that okay?"

"Yes. Fine. I'll see you at five. And Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for calling me."

"No problem, sir."

=-=-=-=

The YMCA held three bowling alleys, two Olympic sized swimming pools,
locker rooms for guys and girls, two basketball courts, a squash court,
a tennis court, and a dance room. Schedules of classes to take and
special programs were tacked to the walls and pillars with yellowed tape
or even gum, and the counselors who sat at one desk at the back didn't
seem to notice Mulder at all.

Nick was sitting at one of the benches, watching some guys play
basketball with a fierce competition that belied the banter between
them. Mulder strode over to him and sat down, waiting for Nick to make
the first indication.

"Do you know where the US Naval Academy is?"

Mulder, taken aback by the sudden question, nodded softly.

"Well, for as long as I can remember, that's where I've wanted to go. To
work on planes like my grandfather, like my dad too."

"Your Dad works on planes?"

"My Dad invents planes. Mom doesn't know it. Grandpa got him in. . ."

"So the story about the State Department. . .?"

"Just a story. Mom likes to be in control, you know? So Dad told her
that he worked at the State Department for real and that she couldn't
tell anyone. So of course, when she accidentally does, it doesn't
matter. But it makes her feel important and she apologizes to Dad like
crazy when she tells. Dad loves it."

"I bet."

Mulder waited, knowing that talk of the Navy would lead somewhere. 
Nick needed some time to gather his courage. He was, in effect, 
betraying his father on some levels.

"My Dad creates all these cool planes. He's been working on a design 
for a Pogo Stick. . ."

Nick trailed off, seeing the clueless expression of Mulder's face.

"A Pogo's like. . .a Vertical Takeoff and Landing. . .a Convair XFY-1.
It was the Navy and the world's first VTOL, and it was flown in 1954."

"You know a lot about planes."

"Well, my Dad's been teaching me since I was a baby."

Mulder blinked as a flashback of his dream danced before him. Scully
giving birth to a little boy, Will, and the amazement in her eyes and
the funny feeling of joy and protection. He could understand teaching
Nick since he was a baby.

"Well, anyway. His version is a lot different. Doesn't even look the
same. The Pogos look like space shuttles in a way, they're vertical like
that. And Dad's design actually looks a lot like the German WW2 fighter
planes that used rockets. The Messerschmitt Me 163 Komet. That's the
official name. Dad calls 'em Messes. Cause that's what they were. A
mess. They look all sleek and black and so sweet but. . ."

Nick trailed off, thinking about the fighter plane and what he was
doing.

"Nick, your father designs planes and your mom is convinced she saw 
a plane."

Nick nodded. "And she sort of did. But it wasn't my Dad's design. . .it
was a different technology. I heard them talking. And. . .and Dad goes
to Annapolis all the time, to the Naval Academy. He doesn't teach."

Mulder nodded, but he wasn't sure he understood any of what Nick was
trying to tell him.

"Annapolis. That's the key, I know it. There's some kind of really
secret project going on, and they use my Dad's designs and other
people's and they make them into real planes. But the plane we saw that
night wasn't a plane. It was a UFO. Like I told you before, I'm not
talking aliens or nothin'."

"Just something you've never seen before."

"Right. Look, I shouldn't be telling you this stuff. My Dad only told me
cause I kept bugging him about planes and stuff. So he explained why 
he doesn't go to DC like Mom thinks, and why he's always calling from
Annapolis. . .and why he told us not to leave that night."

"He told your mother not to leave?"

Nick glanced down to his sneakers, then looked at the basketball game
still squeaking across the waxed gym floor.

"Yeah. He locked Mom and me inside. We had special locks put on 
the doors for that, ever since Mom kind of wandered off. . ."

"Yeah, you told me she gets fugues."

"Fugues. Right. Except she doesn't get them, they get her."

"Someone takes her."

The boy nodded, a single tear trailing down his face only be rubbed
quickly away by his dirty hand.

"Dad told me to watch her. So I did. And when she snuck out somehow, 
I knew it was happening again. When she manages to get out even when 
we're locked in. . .I know it's bad."

"She. . .can't help it, right? She just goes because it calls her."

"Yeah, yeah."

Nick looked so relieved that someone understood, and for a moment, his
face lit up with the commonality.

"So anyway. I'm telling you this because my Dad knew, you see? He knew
it was going to happen and he had to leave. Dad designs weird stuff. I
saw some weird stuff. You see what's all connecting in my head? I don't
want my Dad to be responsible, but they took your partner."

"Yes, they did."

"I'm really really sorry, sir-"

"No. It's not your fault, understand? You did everything you could. I
believe that."

Nick looked like he wanted to cry with the weight of everything he knew,
everything that was fitting together for him. He looked like Mulder had
felt when he was twelve and his sister eight and he hadn't been looking
after her good enough.

"But it was. I knew Dad was doing something wrong. I knew it because
Mom. . .Mom always looks at him like he's been hitting her or something.
He doesn't; I do know that. But still, there's that look."

"Like she's been betrayed."

"Yes. Yes, exactly."

Mulder nodded, feeling sick that this poor kid was stuck in some of the
same rocks and hard places that he had been as a kid.

"Let me tell you something very important, Nick. Are you listening?"

"Yeah."

"As soon as you can, you get the hell out of here. You turn 18, you
don't look back. Understand? Don't go to Annapolis, don't even go into
the Navy. Find a college that's looking for some kind of engineers,
intern at Silicon Valley, or something. Just don't let them trap you
here."

Nick looked frightened beyond belief and he turned to Mulder. "What 
do you know?" he spat out.

"When I was twelve, my sister was abducted from our house. My Dad 
worked for the State Department."

It was all he needed to say; the look of abject misery on Nick's face
told him he'd said enough.

"Just, uh. Just don't like. . .I don't know, hurt my Dad, okay? He's a
good guy. Just can't seem to figure out that there are bad people who
take his designs and do wrong things with them."

Mulder nodded and stood up, moving away from Nick and back towards 
the door. Nick didn't look up.

=-=-=-=

On his way to the capital of Maryland, Mulder realized that he couldn't
just barge into the Naval Academy, nor did he think that it was the
Academy itself that had anything to do with Scully's. . .

His thoughts trailed off and he realized he'd been about to think,
death. Scully's death. He wasn't investigating Scully's death, he was
trying to get her back.

Back.

Mulder shook his head and watched a mile marker flash by: 13 miles to
go. He was a little over halfway there. He thought over what he knew
about Annapolis and considered that he knew just about nothing. That
wasn't a good battle plan so he decided to stop in a motel about five
miles out and study up on his geography and history. 

Maybe there were some old cases that had to do with Annapolis, maybe
some disappearances that would connect or strange lights. He was pretty
sure there weren't any, but he had to feel like he was prepared.

Interstate 50 changed into 301 as he got closer to the city and he
realized that Annapolis was rather small. He was somewhat disappointed,
but rented a motel room in the city and hoped he wasn't in a bad section
of town.

Rent was thirty five dollars a night for a single and he had a feeling
that he *was* in the bad section, especially when he discovered they had
hourly rates. That didn't bode well, but he locked the door and shoved a
chair under the door handle.

Mulder collapsed on the bed, feeling weary and overworked, but also
eager to get started. He wasn't sure exactly where he should be looking,
but he pulled out Scully's laptop and hooked in the phone line.

He studied maps of Annapolis and the Naval Academy, looking for anything
that would seem out of place or research like. He knew that Nick had
some good leads, with his Dad being secretive and his grandfather, and
his own mother being taken so many times. Now, though, he had trouble
believing any of this was run by aliens. Maybe at first, or maybe this
was the human side to the project, but he wasn't sure what was going on.

It was amazing, but there weren't many maps of Annapolis, and the ones
he did find where frustratingly undetailed, listing major roadways and
the Naval Academy but nothing else. He squinted at the map and saw a
Naval Ship Research and Development Center that looked promising.
Anything official that included research he would have to look up. He
found three websites for the Annapolis National Cemetery and he had a
feeling that there was very little information about Annapolis for a
reason.

Usually, the CIA had maps to just about every major city in America, not
to mention detailed maps on the trouble areas in foreign nations or the
capital cities of the enemies. That was the CIA's job, and it seemed
rather suspect that there were no CIA maps on Annapolis.

He sighed. He would have to go to a gas station to get something good
enough to use. While he looked for maps, he got the names and phone
numbers of the city officials, including one called the Central Services
Director. He wasn't sure what that was but it sounded odd. He snorted at
his own paranoia: the man would end up being the one guy that actually
did something. He probably made sure all the memos got passed around 
the offices or something.

Mulder sighed and closed his eyes, shutting off the computer by key
command and then closing the top, all without looking. He knew Scully's
laptop by heart, and had sort of taken it on because it had been hers
and nothing more. He usually abhorred using computers, simply because 
he had been inept at them.

No more. He was a whiz with computers, especially since Frohike and the
guys had started in on him, making him come over to have quick lessons
on hacking and the like. 

Mulder felt his thoughts drifting off, saw Scully in his mind's eye, the
way she would sit on the motel room bed with her feet tucked under her
and her eyes on the screen. She would always have a pony tail in his
memories, even though she rarely did later in their partnership.

He sighed and rolled onto his stomach, easing into sleep.

=-=-=-=

"Mulder?"

He blinked and found a thin woman before him, her eyes dark and wide in
the dim light and her hands behind her, touching something.

"Yes?"

"Mulder. . ."

When she said his name like that, he knew it was Scully, despite the red
brown hair that touched her shoulders and fell across her cheeks like
she was all of twenty and no more. 

"Scully. . ."

She stood there gaping at him, her mouth dropped open and her head
shaking.

"You're. . .back."

"What. . ."

"I thought I'd been hallucinating. . .thought you'd just been a dream I
made up."

"I'm real, Scully. . ."

He wanted to ask about their son, but she was still wary of him, like
she expected a trick or even like she did not know him anymore. She
watched him for a long moment, then came toward him, her fingers out 
to touch his face. She caressed his cheeks, rubbed her hand along his 
chin, kissed his eyelids. He smiled to himself as he bent near her, 
leaning over to let her mouth reach him.

"Scully. . ."

"He's here, Mulder."

"Will?" he asked and the hope flashed so bright in his eyes that she had
to turn away.

She went to the little crib he had seen behind her, made of something he
couldn't identify, but looked rather ramshackle and made by hand. Made
by Scully's hand.

There was a soft cry and Scully turned back to him with Will in her
arms, a smile of sad delight on her face to see them meeting.

"Will, here's your daddy," she whispered and handed the child over to
him.

Mulder cradled the baby to his chest, holding him gently but firmly,
half afraid of dropping him and half afraid the child would pass through
him like a ghost. Will lifted his head and looked into Mulder's eyes,
frowning at first, then seemingly content with the change.

Mulder looked down at Scully, wanting to understand, wanting to stay
with her and not leave again.

"Mulder, how long has it been since you came?" she said softly, and 
she was like a little girl, scuffing her bare feet against the dim floor.

"I'm sorry, Scully. I wanted to, but I couldn't let myself or otherwise
I'd stay here forever and never--"

"No. Mulder. How long has it been? Please, they won't let me keep 
track of time and I can't--"

She stopped pressing fists to her eyes.

"Three months, Scully. Since he was born, three months."

She sighed with the knowing and moved to step into his arms, Will
between them but not crushed. She leaned her head against his chest 
and closed her eyes.

"Mulder, if I don't get out of here. . .I'm not the same. I'll never be
the same."

The six months in which he had only come twice had affected her greatly,
he could tell. Her shoulders slumped and her face was so thin; her body
looked like a child's and she had a hard time looking straight at him,
almost as if the brightness of his being there was too much for her.

"There's no one to talk to, and I can't really have any intelligent
conversation with Will. But he's smart, Mulder; he's just like you. He's
fast for three months. He can already control his legs and arms better
than he should. And he's such a good baby, Mulder. So quiet."

Mulder glanced down to Will, watching the child take in everything with
constricted pupils, as if there were too much light, but he was silent,
still, watching. He felt the sick sense that Will had learned to know
fear, and learned to remain silent when bad things happened.

He didn't want his son growing up like this. He didn't want Scully here
at all.

"Even when they stick him with needles, he doesn't even squirm. . ."

Mulder gripped her shoulder hard. "You let them stick him with needles?
What they hell are they doing to him? I thought he would be okay, he's
special--"

"I don't let them stick him with needles!" she exploded and backed away
from him, taking Will from his arms. The movement shocked and grieved
him and he held out his hands, shaking his head.

"You think I wanted to let them? You think I didn't fight and scream and
hurt people to keep them away from him? Dammit, Mulder, you're not here!
You don't know what they do to me, to him, when I fight."

She stopped, clutching Will protectively, but falling to the floor, her
knees smacking into the darkly tiled room with a sickening crunch. She
began to sob, her eyes squeezed so tightly shut he wasn't sure she would
be able to let the tears come.

Mulder felt awful, soul-sick, and he crouched by her side, cradling them
both.

"Don't cry, Scully. Please, please, don't cry."

"Oh Mulder, shut up. You get to leave. And every time I see you and talk
to you, they think I've gone nuts. And they test me and test Will and it
would just. . .just be better if you didn't come."

He pulled back, feeling as if she'd punched him in the gut.

"No, Scully. No. I have to know you're still alive."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm still living. . .I'm just not alive."

He felt tears shake down his face and he buried his head into her hair,
crushing her to him with such force that she couldn't breathe for a
moment. There was such an ache in him, such a gruesome ache that 
twisted him all inside.

"Scully. I'm going to find you. I'm going to find you and then you'll
never come back here again. Never."

"Mulder, don't make me promises you can't keep."

"I'm not. I'm so close, Scully. I'm so close."

She looked up at him and the tears were back in her eyes, her fear
replaced with something he couldn't identify.

"Kiss me, Mulder. Like you mean your promises, like you'll come back to
me again."

He leaned forward and battled her mouth with his, his tongue stroking
and swirling and dueling with hers. He gripped her shoulders, then
stroked her sides and her breasts, rubbing his fingertips across them
above the long night gown she wore. He kissed her lips, her neck, her
eyelids, her breasts, dancing from one to another and back. 

When he pulled back to look at her, she was holding Will with one 
hand loosely, and her head was tilted, her eyes closed.

"I love you with everything in me, Scully."

Her eyes shot open and she gasped.

"I thought I was dreaming. . ."

"I love you, Scully. You hear me? I love you and I'm not letting you
go."

She squeezed her eyes shut to control tears and then pressed her face
against him. Will squirmed between them and she laughed, pulling back 
to let him have some room.

"He's beautiful, Scully."

She looked back up at Mulder, then to their son.

"Find us, Mulder. . ."

He nodded and leaned down to kiss her again, soft and gentle and secret.
Like he had a thousand years of kissing her to go.

"Oh. . ." she said suddenly and glanced off to the side, as if she could
see a door that he couldn't. "I might. . .I might be able to help you.
I've been able to move around more, pick Will up after his doctors look
at him, sort of wander around. They don't think much of me anymore,
Mulder. But I'm not stupid yet."

He grinned at her, hearing the Scully he knew and loved behind those
words. She tugged on his hand and placed Will back in the little crib.
She kissed his forehead and then motioned for Mulder to do the same.

He leaned down and smoothed his hand down that same cheek he had 
touched three months ago, then kissed his son delicately, smelling baby
and soap. He wondered how Scully gave him a bath or where she slept. 
He couldn't see anything in the room at all, and he realized for the first
time that Scully always seemed spotlighted.

Maybe that was the nature of dreams, he decided. It was all a dream
anyway. This couldn't be real because nothing made sense and Will. . .
Will couldn't be his. They'd never made love, and the doctors had
thought Will would be half alien, he was sure. It was just his mind's
way of dealing with grief and worry and fear.

"Mulder, come look."

She tugged on his hand again and he realized she was just going to leave
Will there. He guessed this wasn't exactly the place to lose a baby
anyway, and if they wanted to take him, they didn't need to be sneaky
about it. They would just take him.

Still. "He'll be okay there?"

"Of course."

He nodded and followed her through the darkness, a kind of black that
began to envelop him like a fog, shrouding Scully in mist of black
smokiness, his sight darkened.

"Scully?"

"Right here, Mulder. Are you okay?"

"I can't see anything."

"What?"

"It's not all dark to you?"

"No. It's agonizingly bright, actually. It always has been."

"It's black to me. Blacker than night."

She moved so that she was beside him instead of ahead of him, linking
her arm through his so that he could feel her.

"Better now?"

"Yeah."

She continued to walk and he trusted her completely, realizing that
being blind with her guiding him did not make him as nervous as he ought
to have been. Had it been anyone else, though, he would not have stepped
forward.

Finally she opened a door or something because he could feel her pause,
then step in front of him again as they went through.

"Can you see at all?"

"Dimly," he replied.

"There's a window here, Mulder. We were underground and now we've gone
up about five levels."

"Up? I didn't feel it at all. . .no slope."

"Oh no. We got on the elevator just a second ago."

"I didn't feel it go up."

She frowned and he could see that clearly, then he could see her body
again and the soft brightness of outside.

"Window? I see it. Right there."

She nodded with a sigh of relief and pulled him to it.

"Do you see anything familiar at all?" she asked hopefully.

He glanced around, looking for street signs or cars or anything of life.
It looked deserted though, and the window looked out on a back road, all
dirt, that seemed to go nowhere.

"No."

"Do you smell that?"

He sniffed but couldn't smell anything at all.

"It's water in the air, Mulder. Not the sea, but maybe a bay or 
something. Not many people would know that, but Dad was Navy 
and he took us to see his ship all the time. He was even on a sub 
once."

"Navy. That's right. I'd sort of forgotten."

"Yeah, Dad was stationed a lot of places. But I don't feel the cold of
Alaska, for instance. So I know I'm not there. And it's rather hot
sometimes, even down where Will and I are."

She lowered her voice until he could barely hear her and realized that
to everyone else, it looked like she was alone, staring out at freedom.

"Mulder, it feels like the South, maybe. Warm and humid when I was
pregnant with Will, and now, it's almost chilly. It turned quickly, just
like seasons in the South do. I have this feeling that we're close to
DC. . .they couldn't have taken me that far."

He felt his throat constricting and glanced back out to the window,
memorizing the features. She could very well be in Annapolis, on the
outskirts, near the Severn River which branched into the Chesapeake 
Bay, right where that Research Center was located.

He licked his lips and realized that if he was going to find her, he had
better be very very careful.

"Do they let you take Will up here?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because someone might be traveling on the road and see him. And for
some reason, if they saw me, it would be okay, but if they saw Will, it
would wrong."

"So it's not a place one would associate with babies at all."

She glanced to him quickly, smiling, then back to the window.

"Scully. . ."

She twitched her eyebrow up, a silent word for him to continue.

"I need for you to get Will up here tomorrow morning. All day if you
can. Or at least come back to the widow periodically. Wait, no. Don't
look at me. If they know I'm close, they'll never let you near the
window. I'm going to come by if I can."

She was breathing fast, her head light and dizzy on her shoulders. She
couldn't believe he thought he could find her tomorrow! tomorrow.
Keeping her mouth tightly shut, she glanced at the glass of the window
pane, spooked because she did not see his reflection.

"Nod your head slowly if you agree. Tomorrow, all day if you can. If you
can't get him up here, Scully. . ."

She winced and sucked on her bottom lip.

"I don't want to leave him behind. . ." Mulder whispered. "Not at all.
But I want to get you out."

She closed her eyes tightly, and he could see she understood. There 
was only one chance.

"Bring him, Scully. You have to."

She gulped down tears and nodded very slightly. That's all there was 
to it.

They were leaving tomorrow.

=-=-=-=

Part Five

=-=-=-=

I'm in the sky tonight
There I can keep by your side
Watchin' the wide world
Ridin'
Hidin' out
I'll be coming home next year

--"Next Year" foo fighters

=-=-=-=

He had bought a window pane cutter from a friend of Byers' and a pair of
binoculars that had night vision capacity. He wasn't sure he needed it,
but he never knew. 

Then he had systematically gone through every piece of clothing he
owned, along with the car he had rented, and the motel room itself.
There were no bugs and Mulder felt a certain amount of dumb luck 
when he realized that if he had taken his own car, no doubt they 
would know he was there.

As it was, Mulder left the motel he had checked into, which he'd done
under an assumed name anyway, and checked into another motel. This 
time he used a name he had never used before, one that he had always 
reserved for emergencies. The ID was shiny and new looking, but he 
scuffed it on the side of the curb and ran the car over it once to make it
look older. 

Mulder dumped his things in the new motel room then realized that Scully
would need clothes, since spring still hadn't made its official claim yet, 
and the wind outside was brisk and efficient in distributing cold. Driving 
to a mall close by, Mulder made frequent quick right hand turns, then 
doubled back on himself, trying to see if he was being followed.

He had a feeling no one knew he was here. After meeting with Nick
yesterday, Mulder had just rented a car and driven off. Granted the car
was in his name, but he hadn't filled out a travel request form with the
Bureau. He felt rather confident they did not know where he was.

It took him an hour to get to the mall and when he did, he had to park
in an crowded lot and sprint to the entrance of the mall. Inside, he saw
a listing for Victoria's Secret and paused, trying to remember if she
would need underwear. Goosebumps broke out over his skin and he decided
to skip that. If need be, she could  go without.

Mulder bought jeans in the size she was when she'd been taken, and he
only knew that because he'd spent so much time at her apartment, just
touching things. An image of her flashed through his mind and he saw her
thin body again, wondering if maybe she wouldn't need two sizes smaller.

No time to wonder, it was already ten-fifteen and he wanted to be over
there before eleven, just in case she couldn't stay at that window all
day long. He raced around the department store, trying to figure out
what kind of shirt to get her and then gave up, shaking his head.

As he was leaving the store, he noticed a free standing booth set up 
in the mall's rotunda, and they sold T-shirts and hemp jewelry and
Grateful Dead posters. Mulder smiled and skimmed the T-shirts, 
looking for something appropriate.

He found a black T-shirt with a computer and keyboard outlined in brown
and green on the front, with the words "go outside" typed onto the
screen. On the back it simply read "surf" and he knew that this was the
shirt. He paid twenty dollars, which seemed outrageous, and tucked the
plastic bag in with the jeans. Go outside. It was perfect.

When he had just about neared the double doors he had come in, Mulder
was struck by another thought. His son would need clothes, or at least
something warm to keep him from freezing. Mulder's hands trembled and 
he glanced around wildly for the mall directory.

It was actually easier to shop for baby clothes than anything else he
had gotten so far. Months and years were on the labels, indicating that
this sweatshirt outfit would be good for a three month old, and these
shoes would fit best too. Mulder was relieved at how easy it was and
paid for it with more cash. He was running out quickly.

On the way back he bought a map from a gas station, being careful to
hide his face from cameras that were perched at the liquor displays and
behind the counter. The ball cap did nothing to hide his distinct nose,
so he kept his head down.

And then he sat in the parking lot and thought.

He really did not have much of a plan except to drive up to that first
floor window, stand right before it and cut the pane. Then he would get
the baby out, and then Scully.

It was the crappiest plan he'd ever come up, and he knew he had to be
very careful. If she was at the Naval Research Center, which was the
most likely guess on his part, then it would be guarded, and that back
road would have some high tech sensing equipment. He had one chance 
and that was it.

In fact, he bet the windows had alarms on them anyway.

He was starting to feel hopeless. He wondered if he should call Skinner
and get a whole force of agents into this, just storm the place. He had
a bad feeling they would kill Scully and Will, and then flee.

No, he had to surprise them. And if he called Skinner for help, he would
lose that element.

Mulder started the car and began driving northeast, towards the Research
Center and Scully.

=-=-=-=

When he found a dirt road that wasn't on the map but seemed to lead
right to the Center's back door, he felt excitement thrill through him.
No longer did he doubt if his dreams were merely dreams or reality, and
no longer did he question his sanity.

She would be there. He was so close to saving her.

He stopped the car, then backed into a ditch, making sure he could still
get the car out. When he tugged open the door, he saw that the road was
rough and looked to be as deserted as the one he'd seen in his dream.
Grabbing his pack of special tools, he shut the door and licked his
lips. Not a sound. He pulled some deadwood over the windshield, making
it shine less, then carefully approached the woods on the side of the
road.

No wires that he could see, no lasers, no alarms. He kept a good twenty
feet between him and the road, skirting the edges to keep from tripping
any sensors he had not seen. His legs caught in the brambles and roots
of old trees, but he kept moving forward, excitement and fear thrilling
through him.

After a year and a month, he was going to be able to see her again, see
her for real.

He quickly calmed his growing urgency and stilled, making his body 
quiet in the forest. It would do her no good if he screwed this all up. He
wondered if he could close his eyes and reach out to her and tell her he
was coming. He tried it anyway, thinking hard about her, but not seeing
anything.

He picked his way along the road until he saw a white sign indicating
that it was federal property and people like himself would be heavily
fined if caught.

He looked around for almost thirty minutes, scouting the invisible line
between public forest and government owned forest before realizing 
that there was nothing. No wires, no devices, no traps. He felt ill at 
ease, but walked forward anyway, ignoring the posted signs.

And then he could see the building, the rise of grey and steel with
windows set into the sides, but only on every other level. His heart
pounded painfully in his chest and he stepped closer, shifting his
backpack of gear on his shoulders. The equipment was heavy, but he
endured, not even thinking about it.

He crept closer, dodging branches and crackling things as best he could.
The window was reflecting the sun, making it so he couldn't see in. He
licked his lips and moved to the last break of trees before the absolute
emptiness of the dirt road and back lawn.

The grass was just starting to turn green again with the coming spring,
and he was glad that the trees had sprouted earlier. It was a bit warmer
in Annapolis than usual, and he thanked God for making the conditions
perfect.

He rubbed his hands together in nervousness, peering at the window and
wishing he could see inside.

He took a deep breath and sidled off to the left, out of direct view if
anyone was looking out. He wasn't sure how alone Scully would be 
and he didn't want anyone to notice him. There was the road, then 
the grass, then the building. No sweat.

Taking hold of his courage and the straps to the backpack, Mulder
sprinted forward, making it to the concrete side of the building in less
than a second. He caught his breath for a moment, then slid down the
cool cement and towards the first window. He brought up the mental
picture from the window she would be at, and glanced out over the 
forest and dirt road.

He nearly collapsed.

It was identical. Identical. Oh God, let her be at the window.

He ducked below it, then glanced up, hoping the sunlight would not still
be reflecting off it and praying with all the strength in him that Scully 
would be there with Will.

His eyes met hers.

He shook, staring in her eyes, watching her softly watch him. The 
window was thick and tinted, but he could see Will in her arms too. 
She held him in front of her, his head resting on her shoulder, but 
clearly a banner, a sign to him.

With a soft, sly look, she smiled at him, and then she turned her back.

=-=-=-=

He froze for an instant, afraid she wasn't going to come, but then
realized she was talking to someone. He was torn, afraid of starting if
it was too dangerous, but also afraid that if he stayed outside this
window much longer someone was going to notice.

Then her hand reached back and tapped on the window, as if to say, 
hurry up. He sighed softly and pulled the backpack off his shoulders 
and to the ground. Inside he had a mini-laser cutter and a regular,
burglar-model glass cutter. He thought for a moment, then decided 
to with the circular, sucker type cutter that most burglars used. 

When he put the round disc to the window, he felt panic ride through him
at the woefully small size it seemed to be. At the time, it had seemed
huge, but now that he put it against the  window, he wasn't sure
Scully could get out.

He wasn't comfortable with the laser though, because it took longer and
might burn through and nick her or Will with the heated focused beam.
That wasn't good.

He began tracing the disc with the diamond-blade cutter, freezing for a
moment when she turned back around. But she pointed to the sky and 
began talking to Will, who she cradled in front of her, his back to her
stomach. He assumed the person who had been with her had left.

For an instant, he could not stop staring while Scully taught his son,
maybe it was the names of birds or the names of the clouds, or maybe 
she was telling him a fairy tale about the woods. But it was like beauty 
had unfolded before him and his fears were swept away.

He looked back to the window pane and continued to cut.

=-=-=-=

He winced as the disc pulled the round cut portion of glass from the
rest of the frame, fearing that someone had heard the awful screech 
that had resounded in his ears. For an agonizing minute, they both 
waited to be caught but no one came.

Scully shifted Will in her arms and lowered her body a little so that
their son was poised right at the round cut in the glass. The baby
squirmed, giving a little cry, but Scully tapped his forehead twice and
shook her head. Mulder was amazed when he stopped squirming and 
grew absolutely still, then closed his eyes.

As if he understood her completely and was trusting his mother to bring
him to safety.

Mulder reached inside and grasped his son, for the first time in
reality, but he was already familiar and soft in his arms. He carefully
guided Will out of the hole and then cradled the boy close to his chest.
He glanced back to Scully and smiled brightly.

She nodded tensely and glanced around, as if to make sure she hadn't
left anything. He held his breath and watched her hunker down against
the floor, then stick her feet through the hole. Mulder realized he was
going to have to lower her to the ground, so he turned and placed Will
very carefully in the grass, stroking his cheek to comfort him.

He grasped Scully's hips as they slid out of the small hold and he felt
a sick sense of despair as he realized just how tiny and frail she had
become. No fat, but no muscle either and he could see her arms shaking
as she fought to push herself through.

He grasped her tightly and pulled, feeling her legs grasp his chest, and
then he stepped back once, twice, and her shoulders and head were free
of the window. For a stunned, overjoyed instant, he looked in her eyes
and saw the year and month melt away into nothing.

"I love you too, Mulder," she whispered and leaned in to hug him
tightly.

At that moment, he knew it had been no dream. None of it had ever been 
a dream. They'd been together, in touch, keeping each other sane.

He kissed her as he set her down and gathered Will in his arms, shoving
the tools into his backpack and his bag over his shoulder. He gripped
Scully's hand tightly and looked down at her.

"Are we going to have to run?" he breathed, his lips next to her ear.

She shook her head. "No one watching."

He nodded and glanced to the even wider stretch of road and grass before
the hiding of the trees could protect them. He felt her shaking beside
him and pressed her into his side, realizing that it was slightly chilly
in her night gown and bare feet.

"Can you make it?" he whispered.

She gave him a raised eyebrow and smirked. "I may be weak, but I'm 
not about to let you beat me in a race."

He felt his heart warm at her banter and gripped Will tighter.

"Not fair, Scully. I've got a baby to drag me down."

She shrugged and glanced back to the trees. "Oh, come on old man."

For lack of something better to do, Mulder grabbed her hand and squeezed
it tightly.

"Let's go."

=-=-=-=

He couldn't believe how easy this was, how quickly she had just been
able to walk away. He wondered for a moment if he was still dreaming,
but that thought shook him so bad he had to stop thinking.

When they were crouched in the woods catching their breath, Mulder
tapped her shoulder and pointed in the direction where he had shoved
away the car. She nodded and followed him as quietly as possible. The
branches snapped and leaves ruffled as she passed, but she didn't think
anyone would be looking for them for awhile.

"Scully," he said quietly when she neared him. "Who were you talking to
when I started cutting the window?"

She paused for a moment, closing her eyes to either relive a memory or
block one out. He hoped it was the former.

"Do you remember the woman who let me hold Will after he was born?"

Mulder nodded.

"That was her. She. . .she let me take Will up this morning. And she
turned off the cameras that usually watch us and she saw you and just
left. She left. I told her she could come with us. . .but she's staying."

He sighed softly and hated to think of what would happen to her.

"You're sure she didn't go tell anyone?"

"Mulder, if she had we wouldn't be this far."

He nodded and continued walking through the woods, cradling Will 
and tugging on Scully's hand. His son was clinging to his shirt, but
otherwise seemed to be calm enough with all the changes going on 
around him. Mulder realized it had to be frightening to suddenly be out 
in the world for the first time in his life.

Scully shivered again and Mulder wished he had brought her clothes in
his bag, but he knew they wouldn't have time for her to change. Instead
of speaking, he gripped her hand tighter and pulled her out of the woods
and to the road.

His car was still there, rocked into the ditch and such a relief. He
smiled at her and removed the piece of wood from the windshield of the
car, handing Will to her. She stood back and watched him for a moment,
then whispered to Will to keep him calm.

When they were both in the car, Mulder started the engine and gently
eased the wheels from the rocky ditch and out onto the paved road. The
car surged forward and Mulder wanted to get out of there fast. He let
the car reach eighty and then coasted a bit, taking the sharp turns at
fifty when he had to. 

"I got you some clothes, Scully. No, uh, underwear, but I couldn't
figure out--"

"That's okay, Mulder. Thanks."

He could hear her crinkling the packages and rummaging around in his
back seat with one hand. Mulder didn't want to take his eyes off the
road for even a second, sure that at the speed he was going, he would
wrap the car around a tree. And Will didn't have a car seat.

When he was five miles out, he slowed a bit and glanced over at Scully.
She had the clothes in one hand and was holding Will with the other, but
she seemed to be content to watch the scenery pass by. He noticed she
had dressed Will in the sweatsuit outfit and tiny tennis shoes.

"Here, put Will in my lap and you can change," he said and gestured with
one hand for her to comply.

She nibbled on her lip and glanced to Will. "I don't like him not having
a car seat-"

"I know. I didn't think about it, really. I was in a hurry. As soon as
we get away from here, we'll buy one."

"Do you have the money?"

"I'm not sure."

She nodded softly, but then reached over and tugged on his seatbelt,
sliding Will between underneath it and into Mulder's lap. He struggled
to not look down and see his son, keeping his eyes on the road and
letting her place his hand along the baby's chest, holding him up so he
could sit.

And he even kept his eyes on the road when she pulled on the jeans and
yanked off the white long night gown. He heard her chuckle at the
T-shirt and smiled himself, waiting until she was changed to look at
her.

With her hair mussed from sliding clothes off and her skin looking
healthier as they drove, she looked ethereal, almost like he was still
dreaming. He smiled at her and noticed the jeans.

"Oh, way too big," he said. "Here, take my belt. I didn't know what size
you'd be."

She arched an eyebrow at him, but leaned over and unbuckled his belt,
maneuvering around Will to pull it off. Despite the tenseness of their
fleeing, he felt little shocks of arousal spill through him when she
touched his waist.

"Thanks," she said and looped the belt around her jeans. She reached 
for Will and cradled him into her side, under the seat belt to keep him
safer somehow. 

"Scully. . ."

"Yeah?"

"I'm not sure what to do now."

She smiled and even laughed a bit, and he saw the change in her like a
flash of lightning, the Scully he knew coming back and reclaiming her
forcefully. His need for direction and guidance seemed to have pushed
her out of the lethargy of her captivity.

"Well, let's go back to your motel room and sleep for awhile. Then we'll
drive home tonight."

Her voice wavered on 'home' and he glanced over to see her crying, soft
tears in the morning light.

"Scully," he whispered and reached out to touch her.

She moved Will up into her arms and took Mulder's hand in her free one,
the tears sliding down her cheeks unashamed. Her eyes slipped closed 
and she cradled Will to her chest as she put the seat down, so very tired. 

He drove one-handed, easing the car down to the speed limit, just
holding her hand softly and gently until she fell asleep with Will on
her chest.

=-=-=-=

Part Six

=-=-=-=

When she woke, the car had stopped and Mulder was just sitting there,
stroking her hand absently and looking into the distance.

"Mulder?"

He glanced over at her and smiled, but when she moved to get up he shook
his head.

"I don't think we should go in. This was a bit too easy. I was thinking
about just leaving now."

"In daylight?"

"Yes. Maybe they expect us to lie low, and maybe they know where I am
already."

She shivered and curled her hand around his, closing her eyes.

"Do you mind leaving now?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I want to be home."

He nodded and tapped the steering wheel. "Okay then. Let me return the
room key, get my stuff, and we'll be out of here."

She wiggled around and finally woke up, shaking her head. "I have a
crick in my neck."

He glanced over in surprise and smiled. "You looked dead to the world.
And your arms must be tired from holding Will. You wouldn't even let go
when I tried to take him from you."

She didn't say anything, just hunkered down in the seat. He could see in
her eyes how she had long perfected her tight grip on Will even during
sleep. It was a protective and unconscious thing.

"I'll be right back. Lock the doors." He handed her the key, and stepped
out.

She locked the doors and watched him through the window until he stepped
around a corner and disappeared.

Please don't let this be a dream.

=-=-=-=

The road was thrumming beneath the car when Mulder heard a confused
small whimper and felt his throat constrict.

"Is he okay?"

"Yeah. He's just hungry."

Mulder glanced around the interstate for some kind of exit, a place with
a grocery store so they could get--what?

"What kind of food--"

Mulder stopped cold as he watched Scully turning Will's cheek to her
breast. His hands began to sweat nervously against the steering wheel
and he glanced away quickly.

"Uh, never mind," he whispered and watched the road. He didn't know why
he hadn't thought of it before. How else would you feed a baby? And then
he wondered how long you fed a baby like that. He looked big enough to
Mulder, but really, what did he know about babies?

"You okay, Mulder?"

He could hear the laughter in her voice and he shook his head. "Yeah.
Gonna be fine. I just didn't expect that."

"I could tell."

He licked his lips and found the image of her breastfeeding his son was
burned into him like the sun on his retinas. The early afternoon light
had shone upon her and made her hair look like a halo of gold red, while
Will's mouth fastened over that delicate skin that Mulder practically
felt dirty just looking at.

"How long are you supposed to. . .uh, ah--"

"Say it Mulder."

He sighed and realized she was teasing him unmercifully. 

"How long are you supposed to breastfeed?" he asked finally, forgetting
and looking over at her with a kind of smirking pride.

She just looked at him and his eyes slowly slid down, then back to the
road.

"Usually babies can eat food by two months. Like baby food or things
that are mushy enough for them to gum at and then swallow."

"Oh. That early?"

"Yeah."

"He's three months."

"That's right."

"Are you supposed to do it that long?"

"Mulder--"

"N-never mind. Forget it. I really have no say in--"

"Mulder, it's okay. You're concerned, and that's a good thing. Will is
half yours anyway. And no, it's not bad to still be breastfeeding, not
at all. It'll stop when it's right."

He nodded. "Does he know how to eat baby food?"

"Yeah. I usually give it to him for dinner. . ."

"Oh. I never thought about all the schedules and the routines you
already have down, Scully. All the little things about a baby or even
about living in that place."

She fingered the soft sleeve of Will's shirt and chewed on her lip.

"I'm sorry, Scully, I should have been there."

"For all the times I wished you were there, I wished more that you would
find us and take us away."

She reached over and took his hand from the steering wheel, squeezing.

"Mulder, you did that. You found us. . ."

He kept his eyes on the road but squeezed her hand back. Before he 
knew what was happening, she was pulling his hand towards her and 
placing it against Will's cheek, close enough that he could brush 
against her breast and feel the heat of it against his knuckles.

He gaped and she laughed. "You can look Mulder."

He was afraid he'd run them off the road if he did, so he pulled off
onto the shoulder and killed the engine before glancing over at her. She
was beautiful and watching him with those dark eyes, seemingly all 
black with her pupils as dilated as they were. He moved his hand subtly 
and brushed her skin with a daring he didn't know he had. She was 
breathing softly in the still space and he could feel it wrap all around 
him.

He stroked the soft skin of her breast over and over, something like awe
and adoration in his eyes, but his fingers made her feel worldly rather
than spiritual with a craving in her for him to touch her and never
stop.

"How about we get ourselves some lunch too?" he said and leaned forward
to kiss her softly.

"Sounds good. And dessert?"

He chuckled. "Hungry?"

"Hell yeah. I haven't had dessert in. . ." She paused and frowned, lines
of confusion rippling her face.

"A year and one month," he supplied and watched her digest that
information.

"A year?"

He nodded and she turned to him with a new determination in her eyes.

"Well, then. I haven't had dessert in a year."

He grinned at the force of her statement, the way she was dealing with
everything and taking it in. "I'll get something for all of us."

=-=-=-=

Sunshine was all around and she was sparkling like wine in a crystal
glass, her eyes bright and her vision just a bit off, but her vibrancy
was back and in full force.

"You look beautiful," he told her again and smiled as the road flickered
under them and on by.

The twenty-five miles or so to DC were quickly gone and Mulder was
heading for Mrs. Scully's home now, knowing instinctively that this
would be where she would want to go. That was where he wanted to go 
too.

She was sucking on a purple popsicle and cradling Will to her, letting
him have tiny pieces in his mouth to melt and swallow. He liked the
taste and reached his hands up for it, but she shook her head and fed
him herself. Mulder liked watching them and he liked feeling at home
with them. He liked seeing her purple tongue come out and snake around
the popsicle. When she smiled, even her teeth were purple.

When the popsicle was gone, she rubbed her thumb down Will's mouth 
and wiped it clean of the sugary grape juice, then grabbed a napkin and
cleaned her hands. She sat looking out the window again, watching
everything, watching with her intense eyes and focused expression. 
She was discovering the world again.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

He took a quick look in her direction, surprised, and frowned. "What
for?"

She snorted. "Hm. Let's see. Maybe because you just saved us?"

He shook his head. "I had to have you back, Scully. . .it was that
simple."

"Thank you for not giving up. . .and for making it better."

He was confused now. "Making what better?"

"All that time in there. You came. . .for awhile every day. I needed
that to stay sane."

He sighed. "I thought I was just dreaming. . .just wishing."

She gave a soft sigh, almost like a laugh. "Me too."

"I was afraid I would start living in my dreams and then I'd never find
you."

"How did you find us?" she asked then, her face wrinkling in a frown 
of curiosity as she looked at him.

And then he told her the whole story, from the bones with her DNA to 
her mother's soft and loving support to the times when he slept all day 
and never left his apartment. And she listened.

=-=-=-=

"Did you get diapers?"

He threw her a startled look and shook his head. 

"Well, maybe they'll have them at that gas station," she said.

He nodded and pulled in as it approached, sliding into a parking space
and putting the car in park.

"I'll come in with you," he said and she smiled.

"Good, because you have the money."

=-=-=-=

"Oh, please, I really don't need to learn now-"

"Mulder."

He sighed and squatted down next to the rear passenger door, looking 
at his son. Will was laid out on the back seat, and a diaper and powder 
and even rash cream were lying next to him. Scully was watching over 
his shoulder.

He ripped the tabs free and wondered idly where she had gotten diapers
in that place, then carefully pulled the front down. 

"You did this on purpose," he muttered when he saw the mess.

She laughed in his ear and kissed his temple. "Sure enough."

"How am I supposed to clean this up?"

Patiently, she instructed him, moving her hands with his and letting him
clean it all up as he wrinkled his nose. Will was wrinkling his nose
back and kicking his feet and Scully thought it was highly amusing.
Mulder managed to put a fresh diaper on him without any problems and
held him up, smiling.

"I did it," he said and cradled Will to his chest.

Scully felt her heart rip to pieces then melt together, creating a new
heart, a new love, a new fresh start. She leaned forward and kissed
Mulder's lips softly, remembering dreams but finding real life to be
much more fulfilling.

He stroked her cheek and quirked her a smile.

"Throw the diaper and stuff away and we can go," she said.

=-=-=-=

"What's wrong?"

"I'm nervous," she said honestly and forgot that she usually said she
was fine.

He smiled at the change and shrugged his shoulders. 

"Mom and I are close, Scully. You'll be fine."

She raised an eyebrow at him and stared in his eyes. "Mom?"

"Yeah."

"Well, then. No more Mrs. Scully?"

He winked. "No way."

She couldn't help the smile and reached over to take his hand, cradling
it in her small palm.

"I'm glad."

"You ready?"

"I guess so."

He nodded and opened his car door, then moved around to the front of 
the car, waiting for her. She linked her arm in his then changed her mind.

"Here, you take Will," she said.

He scooped the baby into his arms and followed as she led the way to her
mother's front door. He could feel his own stomach tie in knots, and not
because Scully was coming home, but more because Scully was coming 
home with *his* son. Bill was going to kill him, and he hadn't even had the
pleasure of actually doing anything.

She waited to ring the doorbell until he was standing beside her, then
waited impatiently, her palms sweating with her nervousness. She heard
the door unlock and then swing back and she looked up and met her
mother's eyes.

"Dana?" It was a whispery breath of a name.

"Momma," she whispered and the storm door flew open and they were in
each other's arms, hugging tightly, crying, holding on for dear life.

"Oh baby, my sweet sweet baby," Margaret whispered, burying her face 
in her daughter's shoulder. "I'd almost given up."

Scully shivered and silently thanked God for Mulder, for the one man who
would never give up. 

"Come inside, get out of the wind," Mrs. Scully said and pulled all
three of them into her foyer before she noticed Will.

"Who's this?"

Scully wiped the tears from her cheeks and took Will from Mulder's arms,
presenting him to her mother.

"This is Will. He's. . .mine. And Mulder's."

Even as she said it, she realized she didn't know if that was true, only
that they had pretended it was his and that he was human when everyone
had expected him to be different. Alien?

Margaret smiled widely and grabbed the baby up into a hug, kissing his
forehead.

"Aren't you so solemn? I guess so," she whispered and glanced guiltily
to her daughter.

Mulder was shutting the door and locking it, but he noticed the look
passing between them, the sign of the way things had been and the
brilliant spark for the way things would be.

Margaret led them into the kitchen and poured coffee for them all, to
Scully's delight, still holding on to her grandson. Mulder sat down
awkwardly, realizing that his relationship to both women was different
now than from the last time they were all together.

"Coffee," Scully sighed. "I missed this."

Mulder grinned and leaned back, liking the sound of her voice, the way
it was so very familiar. It comforted him to know that most of her had
not changed.

"We'll call Bill and Charles right now," Margaret said and jumped up
again, cradling Will to her and grabbing for the phone. "We can get 
that out of the way and then talk."

Scully smiled and waited as he mother dialed, then talked briefly with
Bill.

"I have someone I want you to talk to, Bill."

Her mother handed over the phone and Scully could feel tears welling in
her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away and put the phone to her ear.

"Billy?"

"Dana?!"

Mulder could hear his almost frantic scream clear to where he sat and he
smiled, thinking about all those times Bill had reminded him, over and
over, that she was gone, that she was dead. Leave things alone, he'd
said. He'd been trying to protect his mother and Mulder knew that, but
it felt good to be vindicated. It felt good to know Scully could talk to
her brothers again.

He reached over and tugged on Will's foot, making his eyes track from
his mother's excited conversation and over to his father. His head
tilted and he held out his arms, making Mulder grab him up immediately.
Margaret watched them together and smiled.

"He and Tara and Matthew are flying down!"

Mulder glanced up to see Scully pressing the end button on the portable
phone, her eyes excited.

"Call Charles, Mom."

Margaret took the phone and did the same routine, which produced 
another yell from Charlie when he heard his sister's voice. But Mulder 
was growing increasingly nervous. Bill was coming and he would see 
his sister and he would see Will, and then Mulder would be dead.

Will wiggled in his arms and Mulder glanced down, surprised. Not once
since Mulder had seen his son had the baby tried to be anything other
than calm and solemn. Now he was almost bouncing in Mulder's arms, 
his eyes wide and his pupils dilated to take in more light. Mulder realized
it must seem awfully dim after all the brightness.

While Scully talked to her younger brother, Mulder stood and headed 
for the living room with Will, the baby cradled in front of his father's
stomach and facing forward. He held the child close to the mantel 
and pointed out all the people in his family, starting with Melissa 
and working his way through the brothers, then back to Scully.

"And there's your mommy. See how pretty she looks? I like her hair
shorter, don't you? Not too short, really, but at her chin. It looks
softer I guess."

Will glanced back to him with a small grin and Mulder felt his entire
heart burst wide with the smile. His son hadn't smiled once since 
Mulder had seen him, not even in his dreams, almost as if he had 
nothing to smile about.

"You agree with me, hunh? She looks good now, just so skinny. Not 
her fault, really."

Will bounced in his arms and reached for the mantel, tugging on it.

"Okay, okay. Now, that's your cousin, Matthew. He's kind of a terror, 
so watch out. If he starts messing with you, I'll talk to him. We won't
take that kind of crap--"

Mulder paused, clamping his mouth shut with the word. He wondered 
if all kids had that innate sense of which words were wrong and which 
were right.

"Hey, Will? Just forget I said that. There are words you can use
instead, like 'stuff' or maybe 'crud' when you're older."

"Teaching our son bad manners already, Mulder?"

He turned with a nervous grin and saw Scully coming for him, her mother
in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. They were both
smiling and he had a feeling they'd been laughing at him, but he was
just relieved.

"Yeah, I thought I'd get a head start. You know, never too young and all
that."

She smirked at him and tapped Will's nose, making him smile.

"Oh, look at that," she said softly, blinking her eyes.

"Yeah, he smiled for me earlier. I'd never seen him smile before."

She looked vaguely uncomfortable and glanced down to the floor before
taking a deep breath and meeting Mulder's eyes.

"I've never seen him smile for anyone but me," she said softly. "And
certainly not for a man."

Mulder felt his heart clench at that thought and tried not to think
about all that meant, all the pain and fear in their lives for the past
year. He reached down with a free hand and pulled her into a tight
embrace, kissing the top of her head.

She wanted to change the subject, quickly. She never wanted to think
about that year and month ever again.

"He likes all these people. He's been moving around and even 
smiling. . ."

Mulder nodded. "We decided that you looked pretty cute in your 
pictures, and, oh, that Matthew had better not be a bully, because 
I'd tear into him. Will's still new at this people thing and there's no 
way I'm letting your nephew scare him."

She smirked at his comments and rubbed her hand on Will's cheek.

"I can't imagine how different and frightening this must be for him.
He's never seen three people in the same room before without getting
stuck or poked. . ."

Scully trailed off and gathered Will back into her arms, needing that
connection again. Her son had always been the focus of her continued
sanity, had been one of the main things to keep her calm and in control.
Mulder had come for awhile, but Will's arrival had made her confront her
reality, not her dreams. She'd been forced to wake up and rely on
herself.

But, in the end, she'd relied on Mulder to save her, and her dreams to
show her the way.

"Everyone's coming?" Mulder asked suddenly, interrupting her thoughts.

She grinned. "Yes. And don't worry, I'm not letting Bill within five
feet of you, nor Matthew."

He sighed. "Your brother thinks I'm nuts, besides being a general SOB."

Scully gave him a secret smile and glanced back to her mother. "He's
always thought you were nuts. . .but Mom tells me you went a bit 
extreme this time."

"Yes, but don't say it like that."

"Like what?"

"'This time'. . .like there's going to be a next time. There is no this
time."

She was stunned by the force of his words, but she only nodded and
leaned over to kiss him.

"No next time, no this time," she repeated.

Will wiggled in her arms then, which stunned her enough to put him 
down on the floor, and he patted the carpet. His frown of confusion 
so closely matched Mulder's that she didn't have any doubts about 
whether he was Mulder's or not.

"It's carpet, little Will," she said and smiled.

His head came up, stretching his neck to see all the way to his parents,
and then the rest of the house.

"And this is home, baby. We're finally home."

=-=-=-=

end all
adios
RM