***DISCLAIMER***: All "X-Files" elements and references
in this story belong to Fox Broadcasting, Chris Carter,
and 1013 Productions, and I am making no money from it.

ARCHIVING: Link only, please!

==========

And We Remain -- The Collector's Edition
by shannono
shannono@iname.com

==========

Category: Story, Angst, Mulder/Scully UST/Romance

Rated: PG

Spoilers through "The End"

Summary: Following the destruction of the X-files office, Mulder 
and Scully embark on an investigation into his family's history --
and the changing dynamics of their personal relationship.

==========

Author's notes: This is my one-and-only solo novel-length story, 
and I have no idea when or if I might ever finish another. This 
story was posted as a WIP during early June of 1998, and finishing
it was exhilarating for someone who writes mostly in the under-20K
range. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

In this version, besides changing the author name, I have made a 
few revisions to the story here and there, most notably moving 
Scully back out of Annapolis and into her current place in Georgetown.
This location makes more sense for her anyway, and she was obviously 
living there when the events of the movie took place, so I decided
I'd rather use it here.

Thanks: To Kris/Katwoman, for editing. :)

==========


========
Prologue
========

When he finally moved and I could see his eyes, they were the
color of hardened steel, a shade of flat, greyish brown I had
never seen before.

Dead. Empty.

Beyond sorrow. Beyond fear. Beyond rage.

Beyond feeling.

Mulder had climbed somewhere deep inside that already tortured
psyche of his and wrapped every defense he had around himself. I
had no doubt that, had he not looked down, he would have never
known I was clinging to him like he was the only thing holding
me up.

Because he was.

Oh, Mulder. I know. I know what you're doing, and why. I did the
same thing, not so long ago. You think that if you insulate
yourself, the pain can't reach you. But it doesn't work, not for
long. Eventually, it'll seep in through the cracks, or something
will happen to bring it all back out at once.

And then, it's even worse.

I can't let him do this.

"Mulder," I say, my voice as shaky as I feel.

He doesn't respond, his blank gaze moving across the ruins of his
life's work, his eyes reacting only by reflex to the flashing blue
and red lights from outside. So I try again.

"Mulder," I repeat, my voice stronger, although not by much. I
reach up and lay a trembling hand along his jaw, drawing his head
toward me and down so I can really look at him.

Gradually, his eyes follow the movement of his head and meet mine.
It's all I can do not to flinch away at the ... nothingness I see
there. But I persist, holding him in my gaze.

And for just a second, something flashes across those eyes. A
glint of color, a vivid green; a spark of emotion.

I hope it's me that's evoked the response.

Before I can say a word, though, he's moved away, just a step,
turning his attention toward the blackened, still-smoking filing
cabinets behind his desk. My hand falls away from his face but
instinctively drops to catch his hand. I can't let him go, not
now.

He ignores my grasp, or accepts it; I'm not sure which. But he
doesn't pull away, or push me away, so I hold on.

He takes another half-step, and I move with him, staying close at
his side, still searching his face, in profile. His eyes continue
to move back and forth, slowly. I have the feeling that he's
memorizing the scene.

As if he'd ever forget it. As if either of us will.

My line of vision drops to the cabinets as my other hand glides
up to wrap around our entwined fingers, my thumb brushing across
the back of his hand. We don't move for minutes, hours; I'm not
sure. Time has lost all meaning.

I can only hope our lives have not.

Eventually, reality seeps in. I become aware again of the flashing
lights, the sound of dripping water, voices from the hall. I look
up at him again to find his eyes closed, squeezed shut against the
scene before him. But he's still seeing it, I know. We'll both be
seeing it in our nightmares, both sleeping and waking, for the
rest of our lives.

I tug softly on his hand where we are still meshed together, and
he allows me to turn him away from the sooty mess. His eyes remain
tightly closed, but even as his face comes fully back into my
sight, a single tear works its way through and traces a line down
his cheek.

My hands are occupied, so without even thinking about my actions,
I lift myself on tiptoe and brush the salty water away with my
lips, my eyes sliding shut. Then realization dawns, and I freeze
with my mouth still hovering near his cheek, his breath fanning
the hair above my ear.

I jerk back slightly as my eyes fly open, and I am captured by
his. Deep, dark green, centered with huge black pupils. I know
he's looking at me, but I wonder, dimly, if he can see me clearly
at all.

We are so close that we are breathing each other's breath.

I shudder, involuntarily, and will myself to move away. This is
*not* what we need, not now.

But then I feel his free hand touch its familiar spot at the back
of my waist, this time to pull me in to him, and I can't deny him.
He needs to feel again, and I know I can give him that.

So I melt against him, lowering my feet back flat against the
floor and closing the gap between us. I leave one hand entwined
with his and move the other to the center of his chest, placing my
palm flat against him so I can feel the beating of his heart. I
lean forward, stretching up slightly to settle my lips against the
crook between his neck and shoulder, and flutter tiny kisses
there.

His breath wooshes across the top of my head, and his head drops
back slightly as his grip on my waist tightens. I can feel every
inch of his body against mine, solid and welcoming, and I touch
my lips to him again, this time with an open mouth against the
edge of his collarbone, just at the neckline of his T-shirt.

A small groan escapes him at this, and I feel his head lower to
mine, his cheek nuzzling against my hair. I pause, waiting. I'm
not sure what to do next.

And then I hear him, his voice broken and fuzzy. "Scully ..." he
whispers, both an entreaty and a warning in his tone. We can't do
this, not now.

My heart breaks again for this man's pain.

Why can't anything be easy for us?

Slowly, so slowly, I lower my head and rest my cheek next to my
hand where it still lies against his chest.

And we remain.


===================
Chapter One: Return
===================

Emergency Room
Northeast Georgetown Medical Center
Washington, D.C.
Friday, May 22, 1998
4:45 a.m.

Wearily, registered nurse Carol Jenkins headed for Trauma Room 2
to make sure it was clean and ready for the next patient. She
walked through the door, and stopped in shock. The room was
supposed to be empty, but in the center of the floor sat a
stretcher containing a young woman, apparently unconscious.

Without thinking any further about it, Carol took the three steps
to the stretcher and immediately checked for a pulse. Weak and
rapid; breathing steady but shallow.

"Hey! I need some help in here!" Carol yelled. Almost immediately,
a younger nurse appeared in the door, and her face registered the
same shock Carol was sure her own had displayed when she entered
the room.

"Get Dr. Miller!" Carol said sharply, turning back to her
preliminary evaluation of the patient. "No visible injuries, no
significant fever," she muttered to herself. She looked around
for a chart but saw none. "What the hell ..." she muttered again.

A few moments later, a lanky and very young-looking man wearing
hospital scrubs walked into the room and gaped at the sight which
greeted him. "Who admitted this woman?" he asked, even as he
joined Carol's evaluation of her condition.

The younger nurse had followed him in. "I don't know, Dr. Miller,"
she answered. "I'll go ask Freddy." She shot back out the door.

Dr. Miller looked at Carol as he continued checking the patient.
"What the hell is going on around here?" he asked.

"I don't know, Ted," she responded. "This room was supposed to be
empty, but when I came in, she was just ... here." She reached for
the woman's jeans. "Let me check her pockets and see if there's an
I.D.," she said.

"And get someone to call the police," the doctor added.

"Anna!" Carol called as she reached into the woman's pocket and
pulled out a slip of paper. The younger nurse reappeared almost
immediately, and Carol continued, "Call the police and tell them
we need a cop down here as soon as possible." As she finished
speaking, she looked down at the cheap "in case of emergency"
card in her hand. "Well, looks like we have an I.D.," she said,
showing the card to Dr. Miller.

He looked at the card, then jokingly asked, "What kind of name is
Mulder?"

==========
5:31 a.m.

Fox Mulder awoke with a start, his heart pounding. The sensation
itself was nothing new; he woke often in much the same manner,
usually several times a night. But this time was different,
because he had no idea where he was or what he was doing there.

The nightmare was a bad one this time, and the images were still
branded on his mind. His one real fear, destroying his life's
work, the one thing he'd been able to count on.

Well, that, and Scully, of course.

At that thought, he realized he was on a sofa, but one much softer
than he was used to. Then hearing and sight returned, and he
picked up the low sound and light coming from a television across
the room.

His sense of smell hit next, and the faded but still acrid stench
of smoke filled his nostrils.

And he remembered.

It was no dream.

He sat up slowly, pushing off the blanket which covered him from
the waist down and taking in the now-familiar surroundings. He was
in Scully's living room, lit only by the television and the glow
of a streetlight from outside. He still wore the old T-shirt and
jeans from the night before, and his battered running shoes were
placed neatly near the end of the sofa.

He perched on the edge of the cushions, his elbows on his knees,
and rubbed his hands over his face.

What now?

Still moving slowly, he eased himself to his feet and padded
across the floor toward the bathroom, careful to make no noise
that might rouse Scully. He used the toilet, then pulled a
washcloth from the towel rack, wet it, and rubbed down his face
and neck. He needed a shower, but he wasn't about to take that
liberty without asking Scully. Besides, he really should change
clothes, too, so he figured it could wait until he got home.

Mulder stepped to the door and pulled it open, then froze. Scully
stood there, her robe pulled haphazardly around her, her eyes red
from crying, her hair tousled.

She still looked beautiful.

She gazed up at him, and his memory flashed back to the hallway of
an Allentown hospital. Without even thinking, he opened his arms
and enveloped her, pulling her into the doorway. She didn't even
stiffen, as he was afraid she might, and he felt her slide her
arms around his waist and nestle her head against his chest.
Closing his eyes, he lowered his chin to rest on top of her head,
feeling the tears he'd been fighting begin anew.

They stood there, clinging to their only remaining hope, and cried
for their newest loss.

Together.

==========
6:02 a.m.

Mulder and Scully sat side by side on the sofa, her legs curled up
beside her, his left arm around her shoulders, their right hands
joined and resting on his left leg. They had moved there from
their earlier embrace, their crying at an end but neither willing
to let the other go quite yet.

Finally, Scully pushed herself upright, giving his hand one last
squeeze before breaking their contact. Standing, she looked down
at him. "Coffee?" she said.

He shot her a half-smile. "Definitely," he answered, and she
turned and headed into the kitchen.

Mulder got up as well and followed her. She ran her hands through
her hair as she walked, bringing it into some semblance of order,
then reached for her coffeepot and set about serving some
caffeine.

Mulder pulled out a chair and sat at her kitchen table, his eyes
following her as she got out coffee mugs, spoons, creamer and
sugar. She added a couple of cereal bars from a box in her
cabinet, dividing the items between the table in front of him and
the spot in front of the chair next to his.

Mulder spoke first. "I think I need a shower," he said. "I still
reek of smoke."

She flashed him a look. "Yeah, so do I," she said. "After we eat,
I'll take a quick one and then take you to your place. Okay?"

"Yeah," he answered. "I *know* I need some clean clothes."

Scully turned back to the coffee, just then ready, and then came
to the table and poured their cups, setting the pot on a trivet
in the center of the table. They fixed their cups and ate and
drank quickly.

Scully finished first and stood, stopping to set her cup in the
sink. "I'll be out in about 15 minutes," she said, then
disappeared down the hall toward the bathroom.

Mulder forced himself not to think about her in the shower so
nearby and instead put his own cup in the sink, then returned
to the living room and started channel surfing.

==========
2360 Hegal Place
Alexandria, Virginia
7:12 a.m.

Scully pulled up in front of Mulder's building and shut off the
car. He'd barely spoken a word since their semi-breakfast, and
she was worried.

So what else is new? she thought sarcastically, then immediately
was ashamed of herself.

Opening her car door, she stepped out and was relieved to see
Mulder doing the same. Glancing to her left, she saw his car
still sitting where he had parked it the afternoon before.

Turning toward Mulder, she saw him looking in the same direction,
his own relief evident not on his face but in his body language.
He'd been worried that their homes or cars would be next, she
knew. But apparently, whoever had burned the office was finished.

At least, for the moment.

Scully started to follow Mulder inside, but he stopped her with a
hand on her shoulder. "Scully, please don't take this the wrong
way," he said. "But I think you should go back home and try to get
some more rest. And, well ... I really think I need to be alone,
just for a while."

Scully was surprised, not so much at what he wanted, but that he
was being so gentle in telling her. She studied his face, feeling
the warmth from his hand radiate down her arm, and nodded
slightly. "Okay, Mulder," she said. "But promise me you won't go
anywhere without at least calling me. I'll be calling later to
check on you."

"I promise," he said, pulling her toward him into a quick hug and
dropping a soft kiss on the top of her head. "And the same goes
for you," he added.

She returned the hug with one arm and said, "Deal."

They pulled apart, smiling softly at each other, and then Scully
walked back around the car and climbed in. Starting the car, she
looked up to see him standing on the front stoop, watching her.

She smiled again, waved, and drove away.

==========
9:32 a.m.

Once he got inside, Mulder had managed to shower but hadn't done
anything else other than throw on clean sweats and a T-shirt and
flop onto the sofa. To his own surprise, he was actually dozing
when the phone rang.

His eyes still closed, he groped for the receiver, expecting it to
be Scully. He punched the "talk" button and answered with his
standard "Mulder."

A few seconds later, he was sitting upright, wide awake, his eyes
huge. A couple of "uh-huhs" later, he hung up, threw on his shoes,
grabbed his coat, cell phone, I.D., and gun, and was out the door.

The message light on his answering machine blinked steadily in his
wake.

==========
Scully's apartment
9:41 a.m.

Scully almost let her machine get the phone when it rang, she was
so comfortable in her hot bath. But it could be Mulder, and she
had, after all, brought the receiver into the bathroom with her.
So, she picked it up and said "Hello?"

"Sc ... Scully." Mulder's voice was so choked she could barely
recognize it.

"Mulder?" she said, already climbing out of her tub to dry off.
"Mulder, what's wrong?"

"S ... it's Samantha," he said. Scully could hear noise in the
background and realized he was in his car -- and driving way too
fast, from the sounds of it.

Samantha?? her mind screamed at her, but she ignored that for
the moment and concentrated on her partner. "Mulder, where are
you?" she said, pulling on her robe and heading for the bedroom
to get dressed.

"In the car," he rasped. "Going to ... hospital ... Northeast
Georgetown ..." his voice trailed off.

Scully's heart clenched. Oh, God, she thought. The same hospital
where she had turned up after her abduction. He's re-living it,
she realized. Out loud, she said, "I'll meet you there, Mulder.
Please be careful."

"God, Scully," he moaned. "Saman ..." he couldn't finish the word.

"Mulder, you have to calm down," she said soothingly, pulling on
jeans as she talked. "Slow down a little or you won't get there.
It'll be okay."

"Scully," he repeated. "God, Scully."

"I'll be there in 15 minutes," she said. "I'm going to hang up now
so I can leave. Okay?"

"'Kay," he answered, and the connection was broken.

Scully slipped on her sneakers, then quickly brushed out her hair,
grabbed her purse, and hooked her gun on her waistband under her
loose shirt. She picked up her cell phone on her way out, and
immediately began dialing Skinner's office number.

==========
Emergency Room
Northeast Georgetown Medical Center
10:02 a.m.

It took Scully almost exactly 15 minutes to make it to the
hospital, and she rushed through the emergency room doors, her
badge already in hand. She stepped to the counter, holding the
badge up, and said, "I'm looking for Samantha Mulder."

"Ms. Mulder is being moved to the ICU," the man behind the counter
replied.

"Is her brother here? Fox Mulder?" Scully asked.

"I believe he is with her," the man answered. "Excuse me, but are
you family?"

"I'm Mulder's partner," Scully answered, but before she could go
any further, she heard a noise and turned to see a stretcher being
brought out of one of the trauma rooms. Mulder walked beside it,
his eyes glued to the woman it held.

"Mulder," Scully said, and his head snapped up. His eyes met hers,
and she was stunned at the look she saw there. Raw pain, fury, and
love battled for the upper hand, and she knew he was close to
losing control.

She hurried to his side, ignoring the protests from behind her,
and reached for his hand. She bit back a yelp as he took hold with
a death grip, as if she was the only thing keeping him from
falling off a cliff.

Because she was.

Silently, they followed the stretcher to the elevator, where the
orderly held up a hand. "Sorry, you'll have to take the main
elevator," he said, pointing to another set of doors a few feet
down the hall.

Scully had to reach with her other hand to restrain Mulder. "Come
on, Mulder," she said. "It's just for a minute."

His eyes never left the woman on the stretcher, but he nodded,
almost imperceptibly. He stayed frozen in place until after the
elevator doors closed, then he slowly turned and gradually focused
on Scully. He still hadn't said a word, but within moments, his
face and body crumpled, and Scully wrapped her arm around him to
help him stay on his feet.

Mulder gasped for air as Scully whispered to him, trying to calm
him enough to get him in the elevator. After a minute or so, his
breathing evened out, and he slowly straightened, although his
grip on Scully's hand didn't loosen.

Scully smoothed her free hand across Mulder's face, wiping away
the few tears that had escaped his eyes, then guided him into the
visitors' elevator.

==========
ICU waiting room
10:37 a.m.

Scully and Mulder sat close together on a short sofa, still
holding tightly to each others' hands. Mulder remained silent,
and his eyes were glued to the room's entrance, waiting for word
on his sister.

For her part, Scully was a mixture of relieved, confused, and
angry. For some reason she didn't dare consider, she felt sure
this was Mulder's sister, although she'd want to do complete DNA
testing to be absolutely sure.

But it was Mulder's reactions that concerned her. He was scared,
and worried, but he didn't seem to be surprised to see his sister.
After more than 25 years, she thought he'd be more awestruck at
the sight -- despite the clone encounter a few years back, which
might have dulled his natural reaction with wariness, she
conceded.

But more than anything, Scully was mad. She knew this was part of
the "plan" Mulder had referred to; the timing was just too
convenient to be coincidence. Whoever had orchestrated the past
few days, up to and including the burning of the X-files, had set
this up as a final blow.

Or as a distraction. What better way to keep them from immediately
going after the arsonist, or Gibson, or both? Maybe even to keep
them from trying to salvage the remains of their office?

A sudden movement outside the door caught Scully's attention, and
she felt Mulder tense as a shadow fell across the floor. She
readied herself to fire questions at any doctor or nurse who
appeared -- but instead, the person who walked in was their boss.

Skinner looked as if he'd slept no more than they had, Scully
noted with amazement. Other than a few times when he'd been
injured, the A.D. had always looked alert and ready for action,
even after days with little or no sleep.

But now, he looked haggard, with dark circles under his eyes and
his usually pristine suit and dress shirt a bit wrinkled. His
shoulders were ever-so-slightly lowered, but compared to his
usually stiff military posture, he might as well have been slumped
halfway over.

Scully found herself wondering if his walls were cracking as well.
He looked ... for want of a better word, she thought ... old.

Skinner stopped just inside the doorway, looking at them. Mulder
relaxed only slightly; his appearance didn't change, but Scully
felt the muscles against her shift.

No one spoke for long moments, and soon Scully felt she should
break the spell. She cleared her throat softly, then said, "Sir?"

Skinner's eyes shifted to focus on hers, and she nearly jumped at
the blind rage she saw there. He was barely under control himself.

She wondered briefly who he had to lean on.

Before she could speak again, though, Skinner moved toward them,
lowering himself into a chair across from them with a sigh.
Mulder's eyes followed him for a moment, then returned to the
doorway.

Scully's gaze lingered on Mulder, but she then turned her
attention to the A.D. "Sir," she said. "Thank you for coming." He
nodded, just slightly, and she continued, "Have you heard
anything new?"

Skinner blew out another breath. "No," he said bluntly. "I've got
several carefully selected men guarding your office, with strict
orders to let no one in other than the three of us. And that's
with our official identification, not on visuals," he added.

Scully nodded once. "Thank you, sir," she said, mindful of the
imposters she and Mulder had each encountered in the past. She
paused, then said, "Sir, I'd like to order a complete DNA analysis
to confirm that this is really Samantha."

Skinner nodded again. "Do you think it's her, Agent Scully?" he
asked, pinning her with his eyes.

Scully held his gaze. "Yes, sir, I do," she answered. "And so
does Mulder."

Before Skinner could respond, another figure appeared at the door,
this one a young woman wearing hospital scrubs. "Mr. Mulder?" she
asked, looking back and forth between the two men.

Mulder opened his mouth. "I'm ..." he rasped, then cleared his
throat and tried again. "I'm Mulder."

The woman stepped toward him. "Mr. Mulder, I'm Doctor Griffin,"
she said. "I'd like to talk to you about your sister."

Skinner started to rise. "I'll wait outside," he said.

Mulder's head snapped around. "No, sir, please stay," he said.

Skinner paused, then nodded again and returned to his seat.

Dr. Griffin watched the exchange in silence, then turned her
attention to Scully, a question evident on her face. But she
glanced down at the partners' intertwined hands, and obviously
thought better of asking.

"Mr. Mulder," she started, pulling up a straight-backed chair and
sitting close to them. "We have your sister listed in critical
condition. She is in a coma, although we can find no evidence of
internal or external trauma. Her breathing is a bit shallow but
steady, and her vital signs are within normal ranges. We have
ordered bloodwork to try to determine a cause for her condition,
but in the meantime, all we can do is keep her on intravenous
nutrients."

Mulder's eyes had closed as the doctor spoke, but Scully kept her
gaze riveted on the woman, soaking in all the information. As soon
as the woman stopped speaking, Scully asked, "Has she been
examined for trace evidence?"

She felt the jolt go through Mulder as she spoke, and heard him
gasp. She and Dr. Griffin both looked at him. His eyes were wide
open but unseeing, his breathing was rapid and shallow, and he'd
broken out in a cold sweat.

Scully had no idea what had caused this reaction, unless it was
simply shock. She immediately released his hands and laid her
palms on either side of his face to hold him still. His pupils
were dilated, and he was beginning to shiver.

Scully and Dr. Miller spoke almost in unison: "He's going into
shock." Dr. Miller raised her eyebrows at Scully, who quickly
said, "I'm a doctor," as she placed her fingers against his wrist
to check his pulse.

Dr. Miller nodded once, said, "I'll get a blanket," then
disappeared out the door.

Scully glanced at Skinner as Mulder began to slump against her.
"Sir, help me, please," she said.

The A.D. jumped up, then followed Scully's gestures and helped her
settle Mulder more securely on the sofa. Dr. Miller returned as
they finished, and Scully took the blanket she offered and tucked
it around Mulder, then sat next to him on the edge of the sofa and
took his hand again.

Dr. Miller turned to Skinner. "I'll be glad to come back in a
little while," she said. "Is there any other family to be
notified?"

Scully's head snapped around, her eyes huge. "Mom," she said
softly. "I haven't even ... she doesn't even know about the fire.
And ... and his mother."

Skinner nodded sharply. "I'll do it," he said. "You keep an eye on
him."

"Thank you, sir," Scully said, turning her attention back to her
partner as the other two left the room.


===================
Chapter Two: Memory
===================

Intensive Care Unit
Northeast Georgetown Medical Center
Friday, May 22, 1998
2:25 p.m.

Mulder sat slouched in chair next to his sister's bed, one hand
wrapped around hers where it lay on the mattress. His eyes
were glued to her face, anticipating the moment that her eyes
would reopen.

Scully stood near the entrance to the ICU cubicle, watching him,
and wondering again. She was relieved at his quick recovery from
what had apparently been some type of anxiety attack in the
waiting room a few hours earlier. But he still seemed so ... 
*different*, she thought. She had heard about his reaction when
she turned up in the hospital, had seen his frantic search for
answers when she developed cancer, and again when she found Emily.
She had expected much the same this time.

But there he sat, focused completely on Samantha. He showed no
interest in finding out what had happened to her, where she had
been, how she got here. 

And that worried Scully.

Quietly, she turned and slipped out the ICU unit, then leaned
sideways against the wall next to the double doors, staring off
into space. She wasn't sure what to do. She wanted to stay here
with Mulder, but he barely acknowledged her presence, so consumed
was he by his sister's. She needed to start looking for answers,
since Mulder was so obviously uninterested at this point.

And she still had to think about his mother, and about the DNA
testing they still needed to do.

"Dana." Scully started at the soft voice from behind her and
whirled to face her mother. Mrs. Scully's face was lined with
concern, and she immediately reached out to hug her daughter.

As they pulled apart, Mrs. Scully glanced toward the hospital room
door and then back at Scully. "How is he?" she asked.

Scully slumped back against the wall. "Fine, now, as far as I can
tell," she said. "But I don't know what happened a little while
ago, Mom. We were talking to the doctor, and he just ... freaked
out, I guess. He went into shock, and it took nearly a hour to get
him calmed down. I don't know what set him off."

Mrs. Scully studied her daughter's face. "What, exactly, did the
doctor say?" she asked gently.

Two chairs sat across the hall, so Scully moved to sit in one and
gestured for her mother to take the other. Sighing as they sat,
Scully said, "Dr. Griffin said Samantha is comatose, but that they
find no signs of internal or external trauma. Her breathing and
vitals appear normal, and they just don't know why she's in a
coma."

Mrs. Scully sucked in a breath, then said, "Anything else?"

Scully looked at her, then said, "I asked if she'd been examined
for trace evidence, but then Mulder ..."

"That was it," Mrs. Scully said, closing her eyes and tilting her
head back.

"What?" Scully asked, leaning forward, her anxiety apparent on her
face.

Mrs. Scully brought her head back down and opened her eyes to
reveal tears shining there. "What you asked," she said. "Fox
asked the very same thing about you."

"Oh," Scully said, pain crossing her face. She already knew how
similar this whole episode was to her own return after her
abduction. Now she understood why Mulder had reacted so strongly
to her question.

Mrs. Scully reached to take Scully's hand. "Dana," she said. "You
must realize what this is like for Mulder. You didn't see him when
you were in the hospital. He was nearly hysterical with worry. He
was hurting so much. And all this ..."

"Is reopening those wounds," Scully finished. "I know, Mom. I
knew it when he called me on his way to the hospital. It's just
the same." She drew in a breath, then exhaled and added, "And I
think it may have been planned that way."

Mrs. Scully drew back but didn't release Scully's hand. "Planned?"
she said, incredulous. "Who would plan something like *this*?"

Scully ran her free hand through her hair, avoiding her mother's
probing gaze. "Mom, you know very little about what's happened to
us during the past five years, and I ... well, I really would like
to keep it that way. I don't like having secrets from you, but I
think it's safer, for both of us." She finally turned back to meet
her mother's eyes. "But I just feel like the timing of this ...
it's too *convenient* to be a coincidence, right after the fire." 

Mrs. Scully nodded her agreement. "You're probably right, dear,"
she said. "And I can respect your privacy, so I won't try to get
you to tell me anything you don't want to." She paused, then
added, "And I'm so sorry about the office."

"Thanks, Mom," Scully said, squeezing her hand before releasing it
and standing. "I need to give Skinner a call to check in."

"That won't be necessary." Both women turned at the deep voice
from down the hall and saw the assistant director striding toward
them, his standard serious expression in place. He stopped in
front of them and planted his hands on his hips, nodding at Mrs.
Scully in greeting before turning toward Scully.

"Agent Scully," he said. "I came back by for several reasons.
First, as of now, you and Mulder are on indefinite paid leave of
absence for as long as I can push through. You both have several
weeks of accumulated vacation time, and I can probably extend that
to about a month with administrative leave."

"Thank you, sir," Scully said, surprise evident in her voice.

"I also wanted to say that I will personally be leading the
investigation into the fire," Skinner continued. "I'd like for one
of you to come to the office as soon as possible to catalog any
salvageable items or evidence."

"I can come tomorrow, sir, if that's soon enough," Scully said,
her posture and mannerisms already falling automatically back into
professional-agent mode.

"That will be fine, Agent Scully," he replied. "There is one other
thing -- I have been unable to reach Mrs. Mulder at either of the
numbers in Mulder's personnel file. Do you know of any other
place she might be?"

"I don't know, sir," Scully said, then paused as an idea struck.
"Actually, sir ... the beach house at Quonochontaug is a
possibility. That's where she was when she had her stroke."

Skinner nodded in affirmation. "And where Mulder went last year
when he was ..."

"Not himself," Scully finished quickly, not wanting to linger on
the confrontation they'd endured in the house when he was drugged
and nearly suicidal.

Skinner looked at her sternly for a moment, but didn't comment on
her choice of words. "Do you have the number?" he asked.

"There's no phone, sir," she said. "The house is shut down. I
don't think anyone's lived there for years."

"I'll go there myself," he said. Great, he thought as he
realized why he was making the suggestion -- he didn't trust the
local authorities to do the job. I'm getting as paranoid as these
two.

"Thank you, sir," Scully said again.

Skinner nodded once again before asking, "How are Mulder and his
sister?"

"Samantha is the same," Scully said. "Mulder seems all right now,
but he needs sleep. He hasn't had much all week."

Skinner may have smiled at her words, although Scully couldn't be
completely sure. "I think you may need more luck getting him to
sleep than I'll need in finding his mother," he said, and Scully
half-smiled in agreement, relaxing slightly. He continued, "I'm
going back to check in at the office, and then I'll head to Rhode
Island," he said.

"Yes, sir," Scully said. "And thank you again."

Skinner turned toward Mrs. Scully, dipped his head slightly and
said simply "Ma'am" before turning and walking back down the hall.

Mrs. Scully watched him for a moment, then turned back toward
Scully. "He's a good man," she said.

Scully glanced at his retreating back and nodded in agreement.
"He's done a lot for us," she said, then turned her attention back
to her mother. "I'm going back in to see Mulder, Mom. Would you
like to come in too?"

"I don't want to intrude ..." Mrs. Scully started to decline.

"It's not an intrusion, Mom," Scully said. "I'm sure he'll be glad
to see you."

"All right, then," Mrs. Scully said, standing up and taking
Scully's hand briefly before releasing it.

The two women crossed the hall together, and Scully pushed through
the double doors and walked down to Samantha's cubicle. Mulder
still sat in the same position, although his eyes were now closed
and he appeared to have nodded off.

He's exhausted, Scully thought, but before she could retreat from
the doorway, Mulder's eyes sprang open and darted anxiously around
the room before landing on her.

"Scully," he rasped, then swallowed hard.

"I'm right here, Mulder," Scully answered, crossing to his side
and squatting down next to him, her eyes scanning his tormented
face.

He turned his head to gaze again at his sister. "She ... she's
going to be okay," he said. "She has to be."

Scully reached for his free hand, sliding her fingers through his,
and squeezed slightly. "She will be," she said. "She'll be fine."

A soft sound from the doorway drew their attention to Mrs. Scully,
who was watching them. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'll come back
later."

"Mom ..." Scully started.

"No, Mrs. Scully," Mulder said. "Please, come in. Thank you ...
thank you for coming." He swallowed again, then looked back at his
sister.

Mrs. Scully moved slowly to the near side of the bed and took a
seat opposite them, still watching them. Then she turned her
attention to the woman on the bed and was startled at the
resemblance. Samantha's hair was the same shade of chestnut brown
as Mulder's, although it was worn long and curly. Her skin was
pale, but her wide mouth looked so much like her brother's,
although her lips were a bit thinner. She was tall and slim, and
Mrs. Scully could easily imagine her eyes were the same ever-
changing hazel as Mulder's.

She looked back at the pair across from her. Scully was still
crouched next to Mulder's chair with their fingers wrapped
together, and Mulder's other hand still held his sister's. Both
of them were looking at Samantha, although Scully's eyes flicked
back to Mulder's face repeatedly.

Mrs. Scully cleared her throat softly before speaking. "Fox, how
are you doing?" she asked. She wanted to hear from him herself.

Mulder's eyes moved to meet hers, and she recognized the mixture
of despair and hope she had seen there before. "I'm fine, Mrs.
Scully," he answered. "I just ..." His voice trailed off
uncertainly, and his eyes wandered back to land on Samantha.

She understood. He was adrift, with the two women on either side
of him the only thing holding him steady. He was lost.

She only hoped Samantha wouldn't be lost as well. 

==========
Quonochontaug, Rhode Island
11:23 p.m.

Skinner pulled up to the beach house in nearly pitch-black dark.
No lights shone from the house, and the nearest streetlight was
nearly two blocks away. For all intents and purposes, the area
looked deserted.

In the headlights, he could see the garage door was shut, which
could mean either that the place was closed up, or that there was
a car inside. He stepped from the car, picking up a flashlight
from the passenger seat, and headed toward the house, flicking on
the light to guide his path.

Walking up to the front door, he tried the doorbell first but
heard no chime. So he used the intricately-carved antique knocker
next, waited, then just tried an old-fashioned fist-banging-on-
the-wood.

Still no answer.

He tried the door, found it locked, and looked around the porch,
flashing the light along the walls. No other doors, and the
windows were covered with plastic under their screens, as if in
storage.

He headed around the left side of the house toward the water,
checking the walls for other points of entry. The several windows
on that side of the house were also sealed with plastic.

He rounded the corner of the house and caught a flash of white
against the wall. Instinctively, he killed the flashlight and
flattened himself against the house, drawing his weapon. He waited
and, hearing nothing, moved cautiously on.

His eyes gradually adjusted to the dim starlight, and he could
make out the shape of a deck on the back of the house as he
approached. He could see something lying on the deck, although he
couldn't tell if it was a person, an animal, or just a piece of
furniture.

Bracing himself, he lifted his weapon and flashlight, then flicked
the switch on and said, "FBI, don't move!"

No reaction from the figure. Then, he heard a low moan. Stepping
up onto the deck quickly, he trained the light down.

It was Mulder's mother.

Holstering his weapon, Skinner crouched next to her. "Mrs.
Mulder?" asked, reaching across to check her pulse. Weak but
steady, and she appeared to be breathing. Pulling away, he
snatched his cell phone from his pocket and dialed 911.

==========
Intensive Care Unit
Northeast Georgetown Medical Center
1:15 a.m.

Scully hadn't been successful in her single, half-hearted attempt
to convince Mulder to go home and get some sleep -- but, then, she
hadn't really expected that she would be. Instead, she'd pulled
some strings -- and some rank -- and managed to arrange for a cot
to be brought into Samantha's room. She'd settled Mulder down to
sleep for a while, with the promise that she would wake him
immediately if Samantha came out of it.

Now, she had taken Mulder's place, sitting in the bedside chair
her mother had occupied earlier, her gaze shifting intermittently
between Mulder and his sister. Both slept, although Samantha's
breathing, now deep and even, looked much healthier, despite her
uncertain condition, than Mulder's fitful rest. Scully hoped he
would manage to get in at least a few hours; if not, she'd get
him something to help him sleep next time.

Scully leaned back against the chair's high back and closed her
eyes briefly, determined not to fall asleep despite her own
fatigue. She had her cell phone sitting right next to her, on the
bedside table, just in case.

She pulled her head back upright and checked again on the two
people under her watchful care -- the man she cared about more
than anything in this world, and the woman he'd spent a lifetime
searching for.

She was ashamed to realize that, until the morning before, she'd
never truly believed she'd see them in the same room.

She bit back a groan as another round of pain, mingled with
regret, coursed through her. She had followed Mulder for five
years, willingly going through everything he did, taking his pain
on herself, even when he didn't want to let her. But through it
all, she had never really believed his sister was alive. She never
thought Samantha would be found.

Now, here she was. In a hospital bed, with an uncertain prognosis,
but alive.

And with her appearance, Scully's already uprooted life had
scattered around her feet.

She truly did not know what to expect next. When, or if, Samantha
woke up, she didn't know what Mulder would do. Would he leave the
Bureau? <After all, he's found what he'd been searching for all
these years,> she thought.

But then she corrected herself. <No,> she thought. <He found his
sister. But he still doesn't know what really happened to her, or
to me, or any of the other truths he says he's looking for.>

She was startled from her thoughts by the trilling of her cell
phone. She grabbed it and punched the button to answer, but it was
too late -- Mulder was already wide awake and half-sitting up in
the cot, staring at her.

Putting the phone to her mouth, she softly said, "Scully."

"Agent Scully." Skinner's voice came through the line. "I found
Mrs. Mulder, but I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Mulder had risen and was moving back to the chair at the other
side of the bed, and Scully watched him intently as she spoke
into the phone. "What is it?" she said.

"I found her collapsed on the deck at the house," he said. "She's
in the hospital here now. She's still unconscious, but she appears
to be stable. They're running tests to find out what happened."

Scully's eyes never left Mulder's face. "Is it another stroke?"
she said, and his head whipped around toward her. She saw another
round of anguish pass over Mulder's face as he realized what was
happening, and felt an answering pang run through her.

"They don't know yet, but the one nurse I managed to corner a
minute ago didn't think so," Skinner answered. "I'm going to stay
here at least until they get her into a room, and then I'll give
you a call back." He paused, then said, "I don't know if Agent
Mulder will want to come up here ..."

"I don't think so, sir," Scully replied. "But thank you, sir, for
letting us know."

"I'll call," Skinner said, then cut the connection.

Scully shut down the phone and placed it back on the table before
looking back at Mulder. His eyes were back on his sister, but he
asked, softly, "Mom?"

Scully sighed. "She's in the hospital," Scully said. "Skinner
found her collapsed on the deck of the beach house in
Quonochontaug. She's still unconscious but stable, and they don't
think she had another stroke."

Mulder nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving Samantha's face.
Scully waited, but he didn't speak again, so she said, "Skinner
wondered if you'd want to go up there ..."

"I can't leave her, Scully," Mulder said strongly, still studying
Samantha's face. "I have to be here when she wakes up."

Not if. When. Scully watched him for a few moments, then nodded
sharply and said, "All right, Mulder. Skinner's going to call
again later to give us an update."

This time, Mulder didn't even react to her words.


====================
Chapter Three: Ashes
====================

Intensive Care Unit
Northeast Georgetown Medical Center
Saturday, May 23, 1998
5:58 a.m.

Scully awoke slowly, gradually becoming aware of her surroundings.
She first recognized the smell of a hospital room, then the feel
of the too-narrow cot she lay on.

Opening her eyes to the dimly lit white walls, she carefully
pushed herself upright on the thin mattress and turned toward the
bed. Mulder was still in the chair where he'd been when she
finally laid down a few hours earlier. His hand was again holding
Samantha's, but his head had dropped back against the headrest and
he was dozing.

Scully moved slowly to her feet, taking care not to scrape against
anything that might make a noise. She didn't want to take away a
single minute of the rest her partner so desperately needed.

Checking her watch, she moved silently to the side of the bed
opposite Mulder and scanned the monitors. Samantha's vitals seemed
unchanged, although Scully knew it wouldn't be long before the
nurses would come in to check on her again.

A yawn ambushed her, but she managed to stifle it a bit. She
glanced back at Mulder and saw, with relief, that he still hadn't
moved.

Still moving almost on tiptoe, she slipped across the floor and
out into the hallway. Stepping up to the counter of the nurses'
station, she leaned toward the woman sitting there and asked
softly, "Do you know what time Dr. Griffin will be by on rounds?"

The woman looked up, then nodded slightly. "She'll be by in about
an hour, I think," she answered in an equally low voice. "She
normally starts about seven, and she always visits any ICU
patients first."

"Thank you," Scully replied with a small smile. She turned and
walked back to the doorway, stopping there to gaze again at Mulder
and Samantha. She supposed it was just the shock of Samantha's
reappearance, but she couldn't seem to stop staring at them.

Just then, Mulder jerked awake, his eyes rolling wildly before
landing on Samantha. He stilled, then leaned forward, lifting his
free hand to brush a strand of hair from his sister's face.

Only Scully was there to see the hand tremble.

She cleared her throat softly, both to alert Mulder to her
presence and to keep her voice from wavering when she spoke.
"Mulder?" she called softly, as his head swiveled to face her.

"Scully," he said, still blinking sleep from his eyes. "Hi."

She half-smiled, then said, "Hi yourself" as she moved toward him.
She stopped at the foot of the bed, watching as he looked back at
Samantha.

"She's really here," he whispered. "I dreamed ... I dreamed she
was gone again."

Scully's heart contracted in her chest, and she felt tears
stinging her eyes. Blinking rapidly a few times, she cleared her
throat again and said, "I was thinking about getting us some
breakfast. The nurse said Dr. Griffin should be by around seven,
and I wanted to be here when she comes in."

Mulder looked up at her, blinking slowly again. "I'm not ... not
really hungry, Scully," he said.

Scully arched an eyebrow. "You've got to eat, Mulder," she said,
her voice still low but the tone stern. "I'm going down to the
cafeteria to get something. I'll be back in just a bit. Okay?"

Mulder just stared, then nodded as he turned his attention back
to Samantha. Scully watched him for another few moments, then
reached to the bedside table for her purse and headed for the
cafeteria.

==========
Intensive Care Unit
7:03 a.m.

Scully had eaten only about half of the cream cheese bagel she'd
gotten in the cafeteria, and Mulder had finished even less of his.
He *had* drunk the orange juice, though, and was still sipping at
the coffee as he sat back beside the bed, just watching Samantha
sleep.

Scully saw movement out of the corner of her eye and turned her
head to see Dr. Griffin walking toward the ICU cubicle. She sat
up straighter in her chair as the doctor entered, nodded at Scully
in greeting, then looked down to read the chart she had brought in
with her.

Mulder didn't move until Dr. Griffin stepped to the side of the
bed to check the monitors, then paused to make a notation on the
chart. His eyes shot to the doctor's face, and he swallowed. "Is
she ... how is she?" he whispered.

Dr. Griffin looked at him, then smiled reassuringly. "Her vitals
are still stable, and all her tests have come back normal. I'm a
little concerned that she's still asleep, but we don't know what
kind of trauma she might have experienced. All in all, I'd say
she's doing well."

Mulder's face didn't change, but Scully saw the despair there as
he looked back down at Samantha. Scully turned her attention to
the doctor. "What did the bloodwork show?" she asked.

Dr. Griffin turned toward her, then looked back down at the chart
and made another note as she spoke. "She has a slightly elevated
white blood cell count, but otherwise she seems perfectly normal,"
she said. "We found no toxins, no unusual antibodies, nothing to
account for the coma."

Scully nodded. "Dr. Griffin, I have some ... colleagues I want to
conduct some less common tests," she said cautiously. "We have
encountered some unusual physiological reactions in our
investigations, and there are a few things we've learned to look
for. But in this case, I don't really expect to find any of those
things present." She sighed, glancing back at Samantha. "I really
don't think there's anything else to do."

Dr. Griffin glanced at Samantha, then looked thoughtfully at
Mulder for a few moments before turning back to Scully. "I'd like
for Mr. Mulder to try talking to Samantha," she said in a low
voice. "You said he's her brother, so maybe hearing his voice
will help bring her around."

Scully folded her arms across her chest and dipped her head
slightly before looking back up at the doctor. "Actually, Mulder
hasn't seen his sister in a long time. So I'm not sure if that
would do any good."

"How long has it been?" Dr. Griffin asked.

Scully hesitated, then said, "Twenty-five years."

Dr. Griffin seemed taken aback, then recovered and said, "Well,
it's worth a try anyway." She waited for Scully's answering nod
before continuing. "Are there any other family members who could
come?" she asked.

Scully shook her head. "Mulder's mom is in the hospital herself,
and we don't know of any other family members," she said.

"She's married."

The two women turned toward the bed at Mulder's words, but he was
still staring at his sister.

"What?" Scully said.

"She's married," Mulder repeated. "She's got a husband and
children. But I don't ..." He paused, then went on. "I don't even
know her married name."

Scully was shocked. "How ... how do you know she's married?" she
asked. But Mulder didn't even seem to hear her question.

After a moment, Dr. Griffin turned back to Scully and said, "May I
speak with you outside?"

"Of course," Scully answered automatically, rising from her seat
and following the other woman into the hallway.

Outside, Dr. Griffin stopped beside the nurses' station and
turned back to face Scully. "I'm going to be blunt, Dr. Scully,"
she said. "At the moment, I am as concerned about Mr. Mulder as I
am about his sister. He seems to be experiencing periods of
disassociativeness and even confusion."

"I know," Scully broke in before Dr. Griffin could go any further.
"Mulder is ... well, he tends to focus so tightly on one thing
that he tunes out everything else. I've dealt with it throughout
our partnership, and this is no worse than what I've seen before.
I can keep an eye on him, as long as it doesn't get any worse. If
it does, I'll take immediate action."

Dr. Griffin still had a skeptical expression on her face, but
Scully didn't allow her the chance for further objections. "As I
said inside, Dr. Griffin, what I would like to do is get blood
samples from both Mulder and Samantha and take them to the FBI
lab for tests. I want to start on DNA matching as soon as
possible, because the tests will take some time."

Dr. Griffin considered arguing, but somehow knew it wouldn't get
her anywhere. Sighing in resignation, she turned to the nurse and
said, "Could you call the lab and ask them to send a technician up
to take some blood?"

The nurse nodded and picked up the phone, and Dr. Griffin turned
back to Scully. "I need to finish my rounds, Dr. Scully, but I do
have a few questions I'd like to ask you, if you have some time in
the next day or two. Is there a number where you can be reached?"

Scully nodded. "Just a moment and I'll get you one of my business
cards," she said. She turned and re-entered the cubicle, noting
that Mulder hadn't moved from his previous position. She retrieved
her card from her purse and stepped back into the hall to hand it
to Dr. Griffin.

"Thank you," the doctor said. "I'll call soon."

"Sure," Scully said, nodding her head to one side before heading
back into the cubicle to wait for the lab technician.

==========
Intensive Care Unit
8:23 a.m.

As the lab technician finished drawing the blood samples from
Mulder and Samantha, Scully stepped into the hall with her phone.
She first dialed the FBI lab, informing Danny that she'd be
bringing by two samples for DNA testing.

Then, she called a less familiar number.

"Good morning, may I help you?" Scully relaxed slightly at the
formal tone.

She was hoping she'd get Byers.

"Good morning," she said. "This is Dana Scully."

"Agent Scully," Byers replied, a note of surprise in his voice.
"How are you?"

"I'm fine," she answered. "I'm at Northeast Georgetown with
Mulder." She paused for a second, then said, "And his sister."

Dead silence greeted her, until Byers finally found his voice.
"Did you say his *sister*?" he asked.

Scully blew out a breath. "Yes," she said. "Mulder got a call
yesterday morning telling him Samantha was here. She's
unconscious, and no one seems to know how she got to the
hospital."

She heard Byers inhale sharply. "That sounds too familiar for my
liking," he said.

"Exactly," Scully said. "I'm having blood drawn from both Mulder
and Samantha right now. I'd like to bring samples to you for
testing."

"Please do," Byers said. "We have some idea of what to look for,
after ..." His voice trailed off, as if he was reluctant to
address the subject directly.

"After what happened to me," Scully finished firmly. "This is no
accident, Byers. This was set up. The timing can't be
coincidental."

"I agree," Byers said. "We'll be glad to do whatever tests you
want, Agent Scully."

"I'll be by in just a bit," she replied, then cut the connection.

Moving back into the cubicle, Scully saw that the technician was
packing up her equipment and said, "Thank you very much."

"No problem," the woman replied, placing a small rack containing
four vials of blood on the bedside table before leaving the room.

Mulder had gone right back to his vigil over Samantha, so Scully
walked around the bed to stand next to him. Placing a hand on his
shoulder, she said softly, "I'm going to get these samples to the
Gunmen and the lab, Mulder."

He didn't move for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Okay," he said
in a flat voice.

Scully hesitated, then decided against reminding him that she was
also going to the office. Instead, she said, "I may be gone
several hours, but I'll have my phone with me, so please call if
you need anything. Dr. Griffin has the number as well."

Mulder nodded again but didn't speak.

Scully was loathe to leave him here alone but didn't no what else
to do. So she squeezed his shoulder lightly before slipping away.

==========
Offices of The Lone Gunmen
Somewhere in or near Washington, D.C.
9:15 a.m.

Scully knocked on the door and was surprised when it was opened
within seconds to reveal Byers, in his standard conservative suit
and tie. "Agent Scully, please, come in," he said, pulling the
door wide.

"Thanks," she said, stepping inside. The other men were nowhere
in sight, and she turned back toward Byers. "Just you this
morning?"

Byers smiled slightly. "The guys had some kind of 'secret
rendezvous' to take care of," putting a bit of sarcastic emphasis
on the two-word description of their activities. Scully had a
feeling those had come straight from Langly's mouth. "I told them
I'd rather stay here," Byers finished

Scully smirked a bit herself, then reached into her purse and
extracting two tightly capped vials. "Here are the samples," she
said, holding them out to Byers, who took them, lifting them to
the light and inspecting them. Scully continued, "I'd like
standard DNA testing, although the Bureau's labs will be doing the
same thing, so that's not the main priority here. I'd like you
guys to check for some ... less obvious abnormalities."

Byers' eyes shot from the vials to Scully, and he lowered the
samples as he spoke. "In other words, you want the same tests we
did on your blood sample."

Scully nodded. "Mulder and I ..." she paused, then corrected
herself. "*I* suspect you may find some similarities between
Samantha's blood and mine."

Byers looked at her for a long time, then nodded again. "We'll ...
well, *I'll* get right on it," he said, one corner of his mouth
lifting again as he inadvertently imitated her revision of speech.

Scully gave a slight smile and said, "I'd appreciate that."

Byers showed her to the door, and Scully next headed for the
Bureau. She went directly to the lab, where she gave the remaining
two vials to Danny with instructions to begin complete DNA
matching.

Then, reluctantly, she headed for the basement.

==========
Northeast Georgetown Medical Center
10:47 a.m.

Skinner pulled into a space inside the hospital's parking garage,
climbed from the car, and headed directly for the intensive care
unit. He'd come straight there from Rhode Island, planning to
check in with Scully and Mulder before going by the office.

Walking through the double doors into the unit, he pulled his FBI
ID as he stopped at the counter to speak to the nurse. "I'm
looking for Samantha Mulder," he said, in a tone that brooked no
objections.

The young woman looked up, then wordlessly pointed to a doorway a
few feet away. "Thank you," Skinner said, tucking his wallet back
into his pocket as he moved toward the opening.

But as the bed came into view, Skinner stopped in his tracks. A
woman lay on the bed, her eyes closed, an IV extending from one
arm and an oxygen cannula across her face.

And, in the chair on the other side of the bed sat Mulder, his
hand holding tightly to his sister's. The agent's eyes were
closed, his head tilted to one side. He was asleep.

Skinner hesitated only momentarily before deciding not to disturb
him. Turning, he headed back for the ICU's main doors, nodding
once at the nurse as he left.

==========
J. Edgar Hoover FBI building
Washington, D.C.
11:22 a.m.

Skinner stood ramrod straight in the elevator as it reached the
bottom floor, bracing himself against whatever sights he might
see. He had no idea if Scully had been by yet, so he didn't know
what to expect.

The elevator bell dinged and the doors slid open, and Skinner
stepped out and strode the few feet down the hall to the office's
door. As the office came into view, his stomach clenched anew at
the blackened walls.

Then, for the second time in less than an hour, what he saw
stopped him in the doorway.

Scully sat on the floor near the charred desk, turned sideways to
the door. She was covered with streaks of soot and dust, and
Skinner could see a cardboard box sitting near her on the floor.
She held something clutched in her hands, and she was hunched over
slightly, oblivious to Skinner's presence.

She's crying, he realized.

For a moment, he was tempted to leave her alone, as he had Mulder.
But he had become fiercely protective of the two agents, and he
found himself moving toward her.

Crouching silently beside her, he studied her face as she tried to
regain her composure, now aware he was there. He glanced down to
see what she was holding -- two blackened, half-burned
photographs. One, he realized, was a picture of her with Mulder
that he'd seen hanging on the office wall earlier that week. The
other was a photograph of a young girl, which he realized was the
picture of Samantha that Mulder had kept for all these years.

Slowly, so as not to startle her, Skinner reached out a hand and
closed his fingers around the photographs, carefully drawing them
out of her hands. Her head shot up, and when her eyes met his, he
felt his stomach drop. All facade of control was gone from her
face, and the raw pain in her eyes broke his heart. He couldn't
help himself. He reached out his other arm and pulled her to him.

She went willingly into the half-embrace, her breath hitching and
catching as she continued to fight her tears. Skinner didn't
speak, allowing her to gather herself without interference. He
knew any verbal acknowledgement of their position would only
embarrass her further.

After a few moments, Scully's breathing evened out a bit, and she
pulled back, turning slightly away from him. Skinner remained
where he was briefly, then slowly pushed himself back to his feet.
He turned his back to her as she wiped at the tears still on her
face, focusing his attention on the remains of the office rather
than her temporary loss of control.

Skinner remained where he was until he heard Scully climbing from
the the floor, then turned back toward her. "Agent Scully," he
said, as if he'd just walked into the room. "Are you having any
luck?"

Scully's eyes were on the desk, and she reached resolutely for a
soot-covered folder sitting on its edge. "A little," she said,
flipping the folder open to reveal a thin stack of papers with
burned edges. "Most of the files themselves are gone, of course.
The worst damage was to the filing cabinets."

Her voice was much stronger that Skinner had expected, and his
admiration for her notched up another point. Out loud, he said,
"What can I do to help?"

She glanced up at him, and he saw her cool mask of professionalism
was firmly back in place. "I'm not sure, sir," she said. "I've
been going through things as carefully as possible, and packing up
whatever I think will be helpful."

Skinner nodded sharply. "So what have you not been through yet?"

She paused, then said, "Actually ..." Her voice trailed off, and
her eyes flitted over to the half-melted filing cabinets.

Skinner's gaze followed hers, and he realized that, beyond a
cursory examination, she hadn't yet been able to bring herself to
tackle the files themselves. Throwing a quick glance at her, he
moved to the line of cabinets and reached for the nearest drawer.

"Thank you, sir." Skinner was surprised at the soft tone Scully
used, but when he looked back at her, she was concentrating on the
desk. He paused, then turned back to the task before him.

==========
X-files office
1:13 p.m.

Skinner had made it through the second drawer and was turning back
to dive into a third when the trash can in the far corner, behind
the door, caught his eye. He hadn't noticed it before; the can was
half-hidden behind the partially burned trench coat hanging on the
coat rack, but Skinner could see the top edges were only slightly
charred.

Pushing himself away from the cabinets, he took the few steps
across to the can and lifted the end of the coat away. The can was
half-full, and the items inside appeared to be a bit damp but only
slightly damaged.

And then his eyes landed on a flash of color at one side of the
can, and he sucked in a breath. "Agent Scully," he barked.

Scully looked up from behind the desk, where she had been crouched
down to look through the drawers. "Sir?" she asked.

Skinner jerked his head to direct her over to him, his eyes never
leaving the trash can. Scully rose from her crouch and crossed
over to him, then followed his nod and looked down.

There, stuck down along the side of the can, was the unmistakable
red-and-white pattern of an empty pack of Morleys.

==========
Intensive Care Unit
Northeast Georgetown Medical Center
1:21 p.m.

Mulder was still at his sister's side, having left only briefly to
use the restroom in the hours since Scully had left. His hand
gripping Samantha's, he was just starting to doze off again when
he felt her move.

Instantly alert, Mulder shot his eyes up to Samantha's face. Her
hand shifted again, and she turned her head slightly to the side.

Then, ever so slowly, her eyes opened.


============================
Chapter Four: With Open Eyes
============================

X-files office
Saturday, May 23, 1998
1:25 p.m.

Scully just stared at the damning evidence. She had suspected from
the moment she'd gotten the call about the fire who was behind it,
but she didn't think he'd be this blatant.

Skinner had obviously suspected the same thing. "I guess there's
no doubt now," he said, fairly growling out the words. "He doesn't
even care who knows he did it."

Scully nodded slowly, then turned back toward the desk and reached
for the box of latex gloves she'd been using to handle some items.
Snapping on a fresh pair, she bent down next to the can and
withdrew the half-crushed cigarette pack, then moved back the desk
and retrieved an evidence bag.

Dropping the pack inside, she sealed it, then looked back at
Skinner, who was watching her. "I don't imagine it'll do any good,
but we should take this to the lab for fingerprint analysis," she
said.

Skinner nodded in agreement, but before he could speak, Scully's
cell phone jangled from the top of the desk. Reaching for it with
her free hand, she jabbed a button and spoke into the mouthpiece.
"Scully."

"Agent Scully," Byers' voice came back. "I have some information
on the blood samples you brought by."

Scully's eyes flew to meet Skinner's questioning gaze. "Just a
second," she said, dropping her eyes as she lowered the phone to
rest against her chest. "No offense, sir, but ..."

Skinner didn't even question her unspoken request. "I'll take this
up to the lab," he said, reaching for the bagged cigarette pack
she still held.

Scully pressed her lips together and nodded as she handed him the
evidence. "Thank you, sir," she said, as he turned and headed out
the door.

Lifting the phone back to her mouth, she said, "What did you
find?"

Byers didn't waste time with small talk. "I started with the blood
sample from Mulder's sister, running the same tests we did on your
blood," he said. "I found traces of the same branched DNA we saw
before, but this time there was something a little different."

"What's that?"

"Well, in your case, the branched DNA was acting as a poison to
your system," he answered. "It was cutting off the flow of oxygen
to your cells."

"It was killing me." Scully supplied.

A pause, then, "Yes."

Scully bit her lip, then asked, "Is the same thing happening to
Samantha?"

She heard Byers blow out a breath, and could detect the puzzlement
in his voice when he spoke again. "Actually, no," he said. "It
appears ... she seems to be fighting it off just like a normal,
mild, viral infection. Like an ordinary strain of the flu. Her
blood contains what appear to be antibodies to the toxin."

Scully's eyebrows shot up toward her hairline. "She's immune to
it?" she said, amazed.

"It would appear so," Byers says. "I've never seen anything ...
I've never *heard* of anything like this. I know of no treatment
or antidote to this type of toxin. And I've certainly never heard
of anyone with a *natural* immunity."

Scully's mind raced. If Samantha was immune to the very thing that
had nearly killed Scully ... What, exactly, had been done to this
woman?

"Agent Scully?"

Byers' voice pulled Scully from her thoughts. "Yes?" she said.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to run some further tests and forward
the results to some colleagues of ours," he said. "They may have
some additional information or comments that could be helpful."

"That's fine," Scully said. "I assume you won't be using names?"

"Of course not." Byers sounded faintly offended, and Scully
couldn't help a small smile as she realized what she'd just said,
to one of the four most paranoid men she knew.

"Sorry about that," she said. "Just covering my tracks."

Byers' low laugh relieved her. "I know all about that, Agent
Scully," he said. "I'll call if I find out anything more."

"Thank you," she said before shutting off the phone. Sighing
heavily, she placed the phone back on the desk and turned back to
her work.

==========
2:02 p.m.

Scully and Skinner were finishing up at the office, having filled
two large boxes with salvageable items. A few additional things
had been bagged as possible evidence and delivered to the lab.

Dropping the last file into the top of her box, Scully exhaled and
looked around the room. Her heart still lurched at the extent of
the destruction, but she felt somewhat better now that she had
managed to save a few things.

She turned toward Skinner, who had filled his own box and was now
watching her. Offering a half-smile, she said, "Now, what do we do
with these?" She gestured to the boxes.

Skinner considered a moment, then said, "I think I should take
them home with me," he said. "I've got a closet in the extra
bedroom that locks. And I don't think it would be a good idea to
leave them here at the Bureau."

Scully nodded in agreement. "Well, I need to get cleaned up and
go back to the hospital, so let's get going."

They picked up their boxes and headed for the parking garage,
where Skinner stored the boxes in the trunk of his car. Slamming
the lid down, he turned toward Scully. "I'm going to head home
now, too," he said, looking down at his smudged clothes. "I could
use a shower and a change of clothes."

Scully smiled again, briefly, then turned serious again. "Sir, I
don't know how to thank you for everything you've done. It's been
far beyond the call, and I appreciate it."

Skinner waved off her comment. "It's the least I can do," he said.
"You two don't deserve any of this." His voice turned hard. "And
neither do I," he continued. "I'm tired of being stepped on and
shoved aside, Agent Scully. And I'm not going to take it any
more."

Scully met his fierce gaze. "I'm glad, sir," she said. "Neither
am I."

They stood there a few more moments, not speaking, before Scully
turned away and started for her own car.

==========
Scully's apartment
2:58 p.m.

Scully sighed in relief as she entered her apartment for the first
time in a day and a half. She dropped her purse on the sofa table,
then flipped quickly through the mail she'd grabbed on her way in
before placing the stack on the table as well.

Crossing to her answering machine, she glanced at the display to
see she had three messages. Hitting the replay button, she bent
to pull off her shoes and started unbuttoning her top as she
listened.

*beep* Hi, Dana, this is mom, it's about 10:30 on Friday, just
give me a call when you get in.

Before she even heard about the fire, much less Samantha,
Scully thought, as the next message came through.

*beep* Good morning, Mrs. Scully. I'm calling to tell you about
an exciting new ...

Disgusted, Scully crossed back to the machine and forwarded to
the next message.

*beep* Ms. Scully? This is Becky at Northeast Georgetown. We have
you down to be contacted if Ms. Mulder regained consciousness. We
tried your cell phone ...

Scully didn't hear the rest of the message. She was already
running down the hall to shower and change.

==========
3:27 p.m.

Scully had finished showering and changing in record time and
grabbed her purse again on the way back out the door. She pulled
out her phone as she hurried to the car, dialing Skinner's office
number.

The phone was answered on the second ring. "FBI," an unfamiliar
male voice said, and Scully realized the switchboard had picked
up. Well, it *is* Saturday, she told herself.

"This is Special Agent Dana Scully," Scully said as she pulled out
her keys and unlocked her car. "I need to get a message to
Assistant Director Skinner."

"We can relay that for you, Agent Scully," the man said.

"Thank you," she replied, climbing into the car. "Please ask him
to call me on my cell phone, or to call the ICU at Northeast
Georgetown. It's urgent."

"I'll contact him immediately," the man said.

Scully ended the call, then started the car and headed for the
hospital.

==========
Intensive Care Unit
Northeast Georgetown Medical Center
3:57 p.m.

Scully pushed through the double doors and headed directly for
Samantha's cubicle. She pulled up short in the doorway at the
familiar but oh-so-different scene.

Mulder still sat next to his sister's bed, still holding her hand.
But Samantha was half-sitting up, and she was talking in a soft
voice.

"... I just don't know, Fox," she said. "The last thing I remember
is hearing the knock, and ..."

She stopped as she noticed the figure in the door. She turned her
head toward Scully, who sucked in a breath as their eyes met.

Hazel eyes. Just like her brother's.

Mulder's head shot up to the doorway as well, and Scully turned
her attention to him. She was jolted by the relief and joy in his
eyes. And then he smiled, and she was transfixed by the
expression. She couldn't remember ever seeing him so happy.

"Scully," he said, his voice a blend of excitement and exhaustion.
"I'd like to introduce you to my sister."

Scully stared, then felt a smile spread across her face as well.
She turned her attention back to Samantha as she stepped to the
side of the bed. "I can't tell you how glad I am to meet you,"
she said.

Samantha smiled up at her. "Fox has been telling me about you,"
she said. "He said you've been helping him look for me."

Scully nodded, tears filling her eyes. "I ... I have," she
whispered, fighting for control.

Samantha studied her face, then glanced back at Mulder. His eyes
were on Scully but turned back to his sister when he realized she
was looking at him. Squeezing the hand he still held, he gave her
a smile of encouragement. "You were telling me what happened the
other day," he said.

Scully realized immediately that he was giving her the change to
calm herself and took the opportunity. She turned away from the
bed, under the pretense of pulling up a seat, and quickly wiped
at the moisture in her eyes before reaching for the chair against
the wall. Samantha began to speak as she turned back and moved to
sit next to the bed.

"I was in the kitchen, and someone rang the front doorbell,"
Samantha said, her voice a bit hesitant. "I remember walking
across the foyer toward the door -- I was wiping my hands on a
dishrag. Then ... then nothing, until I woke up a little while
ago."

Mulder nodded thoughtfully. "Were you expecting someone that day?"

Samantha shook her head. "No," she said. "And I always look out
to see who it is before opening the door. I know it was locked,
too. It must have been someone I recognized, if I opened the
door."

Mulder nodded again. "Well, don't worry about it right now," he
said gently. "Just concentrate on getting better, so you can go
home."

Samantha smiled. "That'll be nice," she said. Then her eyes
widened. "Rick and the kids," she said. "They don't even know ..."

Scully leaned forward. "Your husband?" she asked.

Samantha turned to look at her, nodding and biting her lip. "They
went camping for the weekend. I ... they won't be home until
Monday. I don't know how to reach them. If I'm not there ..."

"It's okay," Mulder said soothingly. "If you're not home by then,
I'll go there myself to explain. It'll be fine."

Samantha hesitated, then nodded in agreement.

Mulder smiled at her again, then turned to Scully. "Have you heard
anything on the bloodwork yet?" he asked.

"Yes," Scully answered. "Byers said Samantha's blood showed the
same branched DNA that mine did when I was here. But her body is
fighting off the toxin. She appears to be immune."

Mulder's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Immune?" he said.

Scully nodded. "Her blood contained what appear to be antibodies
to the toxin, something Byers said he's never heard of before."

Samantha's eyes had grown wider and wider as they talked. "What
are you talking about?" she finally said.

Scully and Mulder turned their attention back to his sister, and
Mulder looked at her seriously for a moment before speaking.
"Scully took a sample of your blood to some ... colleagues of
ours. We had reason to believe we would find certain
abnormalities." His eyes shot back to Scully's. "Which,
apparently, we have."

Samantha still looked lost. "Abnormalities?" she said. "Is
something wrong with me?"

"No," Scully said reassuringly. "What we found indicates that your
body has been able to fight off the infection."

Samantha relaxed only slightly. "But how ... where did it come
from?"

Scully sighed. "That we don't know," she said. "You may have been
subjected to some testing that left the toxin in your system. Or,
you could have been exposed to it deliberately, to see if you
would fight it off."

Samantha closed her eyes and leaned back against the pillow. "I
can't ..."

Mulder leaned forward, laying his free hand on top of the other
where it still grasped his sister's. "It's okay," he soothed.
"You rest. I'm going to talk to Scully outside for a minute, but
I'll be right back."

Samantha nodded but didn't open her eyes, and Mulder squeezed her
hand one last time before releasing it. His eyes remained on his
sister as he stood, and then he looked at Scully, who was rising
from her seat as well.

Silently, they left the ICU and stopped just a few feet outside
the door. Mulder turned to face Scully, then bent down close to
her face and said, "There's something else, isn't there?"

Scully gazed up at him, then dropped her head and nodded. "Skinner
and I spent a little while going through things at the office,"
she started. "We filled up a couple of boxes, and Skinner has them
locked up in a closet at his apartment." She paused and, still not
meeting his eyes, continued. "We also found ..." She braced
herself and raised her eyes to his. "In the trash can, we
found ... an empty pack of Morleys."

She felt him tense, and she could see the muscles playing along
his jaw as he clenched his teeth. "I figured," he spat out,
planting his hands on his hips and whirling on one heel. "And I
guess he doesn't even care if we know."

Scully didn't move. "We thought the same thing," she said.

Mulder took several deep breaths, then turned back to face her.
"What about the DNA testing?" he asked.

Scully sighed. "Danny's got a set of samples, and Byers has the
others. I told Byers to concentrate on the other tests, but he's
going to do a DNA match as well. We should have preliminary
results by sometime next week, if nothing happens."

A short bark of mirthless laughter from Mulder surprised Scully.
"'If nothing happens,'" he repeated, shaking his head with a
rueful smile. "And when has 'nothing' happened to us?"

Scully simply lifted one corner of her mouth in reply.

==========
Skinner's apartment
4:02 p.m.

Skinner was already tired, and his frustration had reached a fever
pitch by the time he got home. An interstate pileup had backed
traffic up for miles, and it had taken him twice the normal time
to make it from the office to his high-rise apartment building.

Now, he had just finished locking the two boxes from the office
into the closet and was headed for a shower. At the last second,
though, he remembered to check his messages.

<beep> "Assistant Director Skinner, this is the FBI switchboard.
Special Agent Scully asked us to contact you and ask you to call
her, either on her cell phone or at the Northeast Georgetown ICU."

Curious, Skinner moved to pick up his phone when he realized there
was another message.

*beep* "He has what he wants most."

That voice. He'd know it anywhere.

Smoking Man.

==========
Intensive Care Unit
Northeast Georgetown Medical Center
4:15 p.m.

Mulder and Scully were back in Samantha's room, listening to her
halting tale of her life. Mrs. Scully had arrived just moments
before and was walking up to the doorway when she heard the
woman's voice.

"He raised me, Fox," she was saying as Mrs. Scully reached the
door. "I told you last fall, when we met. He said he'd just found
you."

Mrs. Scully saw a visible jolt go through Scully at Samantha's
words, and Scully turned her head to stare at Mulder. She didn't
know, Mrs. Scully realized. Fox saw Samantha, and he didn't tell
Dana.

"When he died, I ..." Samantha stopped in mid-sentence and sucked
in a breath, her eyes huge.

Mulder leaned forward, taking her hand again. "What?" he asked
urgently. "What is it?"

Samantha turned his face toward him, as tears began to run down
her face. "He's alive," she whispered. "He's the one who took me."


=========================
Chapter Five: Family Ties
=========================

Third floor waiting room
Northeast Georgetown Medical Center
Saturday, May 23, 1998
6:45 p.m.

Mulder and Scully were back in another waiting room, but this
time, they were at least slightly more relaxed. Samantha had just
been moved to a private room on the third floor. Skinner had
called from his car, briefly, to tell them he'd ordered a guard on
Samantha, as a precaution, but had declined to explain until he
got to the hospital.

Now, the guard was in place, and the partners were giving Samantha
a chance to rest. Scully's mother had gone to get dinner for them.

Scully kept a wary eye on Mulder as they waited. He had stretched
out on one of the sofas at her insistence, one arm lying across
his eyes, but despite his relaxed position and even breathing,
she could tell he wasn't sleeping.

"Mulder," she said softly.

He didn't move, but she heard a soft "Hmm?"

Scully hesitated. She wasn't sure now was a good time to broach
the subject of his apparent meeting with Samantha months earlier,
but the wondering was eating her up inside. Gathering her courage,
she said, "What did Samantha mean when she said you met with her
last fall?"

Mulder stopped breathing, then started again as his arm slid from
his face to fall against his chest. "I was hoping you hadn't heard
that," he said, his eyes still squeezed shut.

Scully felt the fury building in her but managed to tamp it down
for the moment. "Why?" she asked in a carefully neutral tone.

His eyes came open, and he looked up at her where she sat a few
feet away. "I didn't want to have to deal with it," he said. "I
was ... I didn't want you to know yet."

Scully had to shove down even harder against her anger. "You
didn't want me to know," she said in a flat voice. "You saw your
sister. And you didn't tell me."

Mulder swung his feet to the floor and sat up. "That didn't come
out the way I meant it," he said, dropping his arms to rest on his
knees and leaning toward her, his eyes on hers. "I just ..."

"Well why don't you tell me what you meant, then, Mulder?" Scully
demanded, her voice still soft but her rage sharpening the edges.
"You found the sister you've spent your life looking for. The
sister *we've* spent five years looking for, together. And you
can't even see fit to *tell* me?"

Mulder just looked at her for a moment, then sighed and dropped
his eyes to his hands. "It was ... it was when you were in the
hospital," he said softly. "I should have told you, I know. But
you were so sick, and I didn't have any way to know it was really
her. I just ..." His voice trailed off. "I should have told you,"
he finished.

Scully was furious, though only the blaze in her eyes and the
clenched muscles along her jawline gave her away. Well, that, and
her next words. "You're damn right you should have told me," she
hissed. "You had no right to keep this from me."

Mulder kept looking at her helplessly. "I know," he repeated.

"What did you think you were doing, Mulder?" Scully said, the
steel still in her voice. "Even if I was sick then, I'm fine now.
And you *still* didn't tell me?"

Just then, Mrs. Scully appeared in the doorway, with Skinner right
behind her. "Dana, dear," Mrs. Scully started, but then stopped
short when she saw the partners staring at each other, and felt
the tension in the air.

Mrs. Scully hesitated, then cleared her throat and said, "Is
everything okay?"

Scully didn't move. "I'm fine, Mom," she said, anger still in her
voice. "*Just* fine."

She held Mulder's gaze a few more moments -- <This isn't over,>
her look said -- then forced herself to relax and turned toward
the doorway. Offering a small smile, she said, "Dinner?"

Mrs. Scully didn't move immediately herself, her eyes flickering
between Scully and Mulder, who was still perched on the edge of
the sofa, staring at his partner.

"Mom?" Scully asked, her tone falling into concern.

Mrs. Scully shook herself mentally and managed to smile at her
daughter. "Dinner," she said, walking into the room and placing
the fast-food bags she carried on the end table next to Scully's
chair. Skinner followed silently, stopping a few feet away.

Scully turned her attention to her boss. "Sir?" she asked. "Any
news?"

His head jerked down once, sharply. "Not good," he said. "I had a
message when I got home. Besides the one to call you."

Scully's brow creased in question. "What?" she asked.

Skinner's mouth twisted, and he said, "Just one line. 'He has what
he wants most.' And the voice was *very* familiar."

Mulder's eyes finally moved from Scully, shooting over to Skinner.
"Smoking man?" he asked.

Skinner nodded again. "That's why I ordered the guard," he said.
He paused, then said, "I also called on my way here to check on
your mother, Agent Mulder. Her doctor should be calling you any
time to give you an update." He looked at Scully. "I gave them
your cellular number."

"Thank you, sir," Mulder and Scully said, almost in unison. They
looked briefly at each other, then away.

Silence reigned for a few moments, until Mrs. Scully reached for
the food bags. "Well, let's eat, shall we?" she said.

==========
6:16 p.m.

Scully had just finished eating when her cell phone burred from
the table next to her. She answered it, "Scully."

"Ms. Scully?" the voice said. "I'm looking for a Mr. Mulder. I
was told he could be reached at this number."

Scully's eyes shot up to land on Mulder. "Yes, he's right here,"
she said. "Just a moment." She held out the phone to Mulder. "It's
for you," she said.

Mulder leaned across from the sofa to take the phone from her,
careful not to brush her hand. Lifting the phone to his mouth, he
said, "Mulder."

"Mr. Mulder, this is Doctor Graham at South County Hospital in
Wakefield. I'm calling about your mother."

"Yes," Mulder said, recognizing the location as a small town near
Quonochontaug. "How is she?"

"She's doing well," Dr. Graham said. "She's awake and alert, and
she apparently has not had another stroke. We want to keep her
here for observation for another day, but she should be able to
go home by tomorrow."

Mulder relaxed a bit. "Good," he said. "Thank you for calling."

"Mr. Mulder?"

"Yes?"

"Will you be visiting, or is there another family member or friend
we should call?"

Mulder paused, torn, and glanced at Scully before answering.
"I ... I don't think I can get away right now," he said. "I ...
I'll let you know."

A pause, then Dr. Graham said. "All right. I'll call if anything
changes."

"Thank you," Mulder said, ending the call. He sat still for a
moment, then held out the phone toward Scully without looking at
her.

Scully took it and placed it back on the table, her eyes never
leaving Mulder. She knew he was fighting a battle between his
need to stay with Samantha and his perceived duty to take care of
his mother.

Obviously, Mrs. Scully came to the same conclusion. "Fox," she
said softly. "I'll be glad to go see your mother for you."

His eyes shot up to meet hers. "I couldn't ask you to do that,
Mrs. Scully," he said.

She smiled gently at him. "You're not," she said. "I'm offering."

He held her gaze, then nodded slowly. "Thank you," he said.

Skinner cleared his throat, and the others turned to look at him.
"I don't think you should go alone, Mrs. Scully," he said. "And
I'd like to speak to Mrs. Mulder myself. I'll drive you."

"That should be fine," Mrs. Scully agreed. "When should we leave?"

Skinner glanced at his watch. "It's too late to go tonight, and I
need to check on a few things first. Is eight tomorrow morning
all right?"

Mrs. Scully nodded. "I'll be ready."

The two turned back to Mulder and Scully. Mulder had dropped his
head again and was staring at the floor, and Scully was watching
him, unsmiling.

After a moment, Skinner coughed lightly. "I'm going back to the
office," he said. "I'll give you my cell number so you can call
if anything changes."

Mrs. Scully reached for her purse and handed him a pen and a small
notepad, and he scribbled down the number quickly, then left.

The group remained silent a few minutes more, until a nurse
appeared in the doorway. "Mr. Mulder?" she asked.

Mulder's head shot around to the door. "Is something wrong?" he
asked.

The nurse smiled. "No. Your sister wanted to see you. She's
awake."

Mulder jumped up and strode out the door, leaving Scully and her
mother alone. Scully watched him go, her face a mixture of anger,
pain, and caring.

Mrs. Scully observed her daughter a moment, then reached out a hand
and laid it on her arm. "You go too, dear," she said. "I need to
go home to pack anyway."

Scully's head swiveled to face her mother. "You don't have to go,
Mom," she said.

"No, I need to," Mrs. Scully answered, rising to her feet and
picking up her purse. "And you need to be with Fox."

Scully stood as well, reaching to draw her mother into a tight
hug. "Thanks, Mom," she said. "I'll call you in the morning."

"Good night, dear," Mrs. Scully said, then turned and left.

Scully took a moment to throw away the debris from their dinner
before heading for Samantha's room.

==========
Room 325
Northeast Georgetown Medical Center
7:15 p.m.

Mulder and Scully again sat flanking Samantha's bed, listening to
her talk about her "father" and her life.

"He lied to me, Fox," Samantha said, tears in her eyes. "He said
he was my father, but he lied to me. He ... he told me Mom was
dead, that he didn't know where you were. But he was lying."

Mulder's face reflected his sister's pain, but he managed a small
smile. "But I'm here now, and you know Mom's alive," he said.
"That's all that matters."

"But how could he *do* that?" Samantha cried. "He was so good to
me, Fox. And it was all lie. My whole *life* has been one big
lie."

Scully knew the feeling. After being jerked around for more than
five years, she didn't know how she would ever tell the truth
from the lies.

Mulder squeezed Samantha's hand. "Not all of it," he said softly,
smiling again. "I'm still your big brother."

Samantha nodded, smiling through her tears. "And I've got you
back," she said, her breath hitching a bit.

They were silent a few minutes, but the intensity in their
matching hazel eyes as they looked at each other made Scully feel
like an intruder.

Then she wondered. She's seen people react that way when she and
Mulder did the same thing -- the "unspoken communication" they
used so often. Is that the way we look at each other? she
thought. It's like they're the only two people on the planet.
Or maybe in the universe.

She laughed ruefully to herself at that last thought. Somehow,
everything about Mulder always came back to the extra-terrestrial.

Just then, Mulder broke the silence. "Can you tell me what you
remember, Samantha?"

She hesitated. "I don't know where to start," she said."

"How about the beginning?" he said, crooking another half-smile.

Samantha smiled back. "I remember you, Fox, from when we were
little," she said. "I remember when I fell and broke my
collarbone. I remember playing Stratego, and Risk, and all those
board games you liked. You always beat me, too, and you hardly
ever played the ones I could win."

Mulder chuckled at that. "Typical big brother, I guess," he said.

Samantha nodded and went on, her smile fading away as her gaze
dropped to the edge of the bed. "I remember ... I remember
watching TV ... and yelling something -- at you, I think. I was,
I don't know, about seven or eight." Her brow furrowed, then
cleared slightly. "And I remember being in the hospital, when I
was about nine or ten." She looked up. "If I disappeared twenty-
five years ago, then I was ..."

"Eight," Mulder supplied. "You turned eight about a week before
you disappeared."

Her voice was shakier as she continued. "That's what I thought.
Then being in the hospital is the only thing I remember until I
was almost twelve, when I moved in with my foster parents," she
said. "I only lived with them for about six months, before my
fat ... before that man came to get me."

Then puzzlement creased her forehead again. "But my medical
history doesn't mention any hospitalization," she said. "The only
times I was in the hospital were when I broke my collarbone and
when I had my kids."

At this, Mulder glanced at Scully, who was looking at Samantha
intently. "Samantha," Scully said gently. "Are you sure it was a
hospital?"

Samantha lifted one shoulder slightly. "I guess so," she said. "I
was in a bed, in a big white room, and there was a man with a
white lab coat on. It could have been a clinic or something, I
guess."

Mulder and Scully looked at each other, then back at Samantha. "Do
you remember anything else unusual from back then?" Mulder asked.
"Anything from before you moved in with your foster parents?"

Samantha started to shake her head, then stopped. "Wait," she
said. "I remember ... summertime. I was at the beach. I think ...
we had a house there, or we were staying there for a while. Maybe
all summer. And there was a boy I played with, a little younger
than me. I was about eleven or twelve, I think, and he was nine or
ten. It must have been the summer before I turned twelve."

Her eyes closed briefly, and Scully and Mulder could see movement
behind her eyelids. "He was ... a relative, I think. A cousin,
or ..." Her eyes flew open and landed on Mulder. "Brother," she
breathed. "He was my brother."

Mulder's eyes shot to meet Scully's startled gaze. A brother?
she thought, then turned her attention back to Samantha. "How do
you know he was your brother?" she asked.

"My fath ... that man told me," she said, her eyes sliding shut
again. "Which means it was probably a lie anyway."

Mulder wasn't so sure. A seed of an idea was growing in the back
of his mind. "This was before you went to live with the man?"
Mulder asked.

"Yes," Samantha answered. "He was there, toward the end of the
summer. He took us waterskiing one day, and he told us we were
brother and sister." She glanced up at them. "I remember what he
looked like. The boy, I mean. He was my height, and thin, with
blond hair. He told me he hated it, because it was curly. He had
it cut really short."

Mulder nodded thoughtfully, still staring at Samantha, and Scully
could almost see the gears turning in his mind. "Do you remember
his name?" Mulder asked.

Samantha thought for a moment. "I'm not sure," she said. "There
were a lot of kids there that summer. He was there with his mom.
I think his parents were divorced, or separated. I think his name
was Jerry or something like that."

"Jeffrey?" Mulder asked.

Both Samantha and Scully stared at him. "That's it," Samantha
said. "How did you know?"

Scully knew. "Mulder ..." she started.

"Scully, it makes perfect sense," he said, still looking at his
sister. "I didn't get the chance to tell you, but I saw them
together. In the parking garage at the psychiatric center, the
day before we moved Gibson to the hotel." His gaze shifted to her.
"I went to get my car after you called and asked me to meet you at
the office, and Spender was over in the corner, talking to him."

"You *saw* him?" Scully asked.

"Not directly," Mulder admitted. "But the man I saw was the same
height and build -- and he was smoking a cigarette."

Samantha broke in. "Fox, how did you know Jeffrey's name?"

Mulder turned his attention back to his sister. "I think I know
who he is," he said. "I think he's an agent with the Bureau, too."

Samantha just looked at him, incredulous. "What ... how do you
know?"

Mulder shrugged. "I don't know for sure," he said, shooting a
quick glance over at Scully. "But there's enough ...
*circumstantial* evidence to make me think it warrants further
investigation."

Scully cleared her throat softly. "I think we need to expand our
blood testing," she said. "We need samples from your mother, and
Spender, if he agrees."

Samantha looked at her blankly. "More blood tests?" she asked,
confused, and Scully realized they hadn't told her about the DNA
testing.

Mulder saved Scully the trouble. "DNA matching," Mulder said.
"Just to be completely sure. It's not because of you, so please
don't be upset. We've been misled so many times that we *need* to
be sure." He sighed, then added, "And there's always the
chance ... that your memories could have been ... altered. You've
already said you have a lot of time unaccounted for."

Samantha had obviously had enough. Closing her eyes, she lowered
her head onto the pillow and exhaled deeply. "I feel like I'm in
a cheesy science fiction novel," she muttered, and Scully couldn't
hold back a small grin at the Mulderesque comment.

Mulder couldn't hold back, either, Scully noticed. He bent over
to place a soft kiss on Samantha's forehead, then stood up. "We'll
get out of here so you can get some rest," he said. "Call if you
need me."

"Mmm-hmm," Samantha answered, already half-asleep. "G'night, Fox."

Mulder looked at her for another few seconds, then turned to
Scully and tilted his head toward the door. She stood up and
preceded him into the hallway before stopping and turning back to
face him. "How do you propose we get the blood sample from
Spender?" she asked.

Mulder leaned in close to her face, a small smile playing across
his lips. "How 'bout we ask?" he said teasingly.

He was met with the raised eyebrow, and his smile grew
exponentially in response.


=======================
Chapter Six: Home Again
=======================

South County Hospital
Wakefield, Rhode Island
Sunday, May 24, 1998
11:24 a.m.

Walking down the hallway towards Mrs. Mulder's room, Margaret
Scully was nervous. She and Skinner had talked in the car about
his few previous meetings with Mrs. Mulder, none of which had come
under good circumstances. They had come to the conclusion that it
would be better if Mrs. Scully first approached the other woman
alone.

They slowed and stopped outside the door to Room 214, and Mrs.
Scully took a deep breath to steady herself, then glanced up at
Skinner with a brief smile. "Wish me luck," she said, using a
light tone to hide her apprehension.

Skinner simply nodded with a tight half-smile, and Mrs. Scully
reached up and knocked lightly on the door.

"Come in," a voice said from inside.

Mrs. Scully pushed the door open and stepped inside hesitantly,
her eyes searching for and finding the bed against the wall to her
left. A woman perhaps 10 years older than her sat in the bed, her
pure white hair pushed back from her face, her face lined with age
and worry.

Mrs. Scully managed to smile. "Mrs. Mulder?" she said, stepping
toward the bed. "I'm Margaret Scully."

A flicker of recognition passed across the woman's face, paired
with a bit of confusion. "Yes," she said, her voice smooth and
cultured. "You're Fox's ... your daughter is his partner." 

Mrs. Scully nodded. "I came to see you because ... I offered to
come, because Fox ..." She stopped, unsure how to explain.

Mrs. Mulder's eyes widened. "Fox isn't ... he's okay, isn't he?"
she said, her voice rising in alarm.

Mrs. Scully realized her mistake. "He's fine, he's fine," she said
quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. But he ... he
couldn't come right now, so I told him I would come to see you."

Mrs. Mulder relaxed, then tensed again as she realized the younger
woman was still standing. "Please, have  a seat," she said,
gesturing toward the chair beside the bed. As Mrs. Scully sat
where she indicated, Mrs. Mulder continued. "Thank you for coming,
but it wasn't necessary. I know Fox ..." Her voice trailed off,
and she tried again. "We ... argued, the last time I saw him. He's
been angry at me, I know. I didn't really expect to see him."

Mrs. Scully shook her head, reaching one hand to touch Mrs.
Mulder's arm briefly before pulling away. "That's not it at all,
Mrs. Mulder," she said. "Fox is very worried about you. It's just
..." She paused, then said, "There's something he has to do,
and ... well, to tell you the truth, I don't really know how to
tell you." She sighed, dropping her eyes to her lap and leaning
back in the chair.

Mrs. Mulder leaned forward. "Tell me what?" she said.

Mrs. Scully looked back up at her. "I ..." She stopped again, then
plunged ahead. "He's at the hospital in Washington -- not in the
hospital; he's fine," she hurriedly amended, as Mrs. Mulder's eyes
widened again. "But it's ... he can't leave. He doesn't want to
leave." She paused yet again.

"What?" Mrs. Mulder said urgently. "Please, just tell me what it
is!"

Mrs. Scully knew she had to say it. "All right," she said.
"It's ... he's with Samantha."

Time seemed to slow down in the room. Mrs. Scully saw Mrs.
Mulder's face go through a kaleidoscope of emotions, in slow
motion. Shock. Confusion. Fear.

Hope.

"S ... Samantha?" she finally managed, her voice cracking on the
word. "He's with ... Samantha?"

Mrs. Scully nodded gently. "She's in the hospital in Washington.
We don't know how she got there. But she's there, and Fox is with
her."

Mrs. Mulder's breath was coming in short pants, but she made a
visible effort to calm down as she forced out words. "She ...
she's alive?"

Mrs. Scully smiled her encouragement. "Yes, she's alive," she
said. "She was in a coma, but she woke up late yesterday
afternoon. She and Fox have been talking. She's been telling him
about ... where she's been. What's happened to her."

Mrs. Mulder had lowered her head back to the pillows and closed
her eyes. "Samantha," she said, as tears began to escape and run
down her face. "My baby."

Mrs. Scully's heart went out to the woman before her. She could
empathize with these feelings, having lost one daughter herself.
And having nearly lost the other.

Twice.

Mrs. Scully reached to grasp Mrs. Mulder's hand where it lay on
the mattress, and Mrs. Mulder's eyes flew open and darted to meet
Mrs. Scully's. The two women simply looked at each other, the
feeling of kinship and understanding flowing between them, mingled
in the tears they now shared.

And they smiled.

==========
Northeast Georgetown Medical Center
11:38 a.m.

Scully stood in the hall outside Samantha's room, where she had
left Mulder talking with his sister again just moments before. She
had actually slept late -- well, for her; 8:30 wasn't that late
for a weekend morning -- then had brought breakfast to the
hospital with her, knowing she'd find Mulder there.

Now, she was calling the FBI lab, where Danny was pulling
overtime to work on the tests she'd asked for. She didn't want to
think about what kind of payback she and Mulder would have to
devise for this one. She didn't think Redskins tickets would quite
do the trick this time.

She was drawn from her thoughts by an answer to her call. "Lab
rat speaking."

Scully smiled a bit. "Danny, it's Scully," she said. "Anything
yet?"

"Still working on it, Scully," he said. "Same blood type, although
that's not saying much. I should have at least an indication by
later today. Of course, it'll take a few days for anything
definite."

"That's great," Scully answered. "I called mainly to tell you
we're going to ask their mother for a sample, so you'll have a
better comparison. And ..." She paused, then went on. "There may
be another sibling."

"*May* be?" Danny said.

Scully sighed. "Yes, we're not sure," she replied. "But we may
have another sample for you from him. I'll let you know. And
thanks for everything, Danny."

"No prob," he answered. "And I'll be thinking about the payback."

Scully smiled briefly at the phone as she ended the call, then
headed back into Samantha's room. She could hear low voices before
the bed came into sight, and as she stepped nearer, she saw Mulder
leaning close to his sister, their intertwined hands lying on the
bed beside her.

"... The kids got out of school on Wednesday, and they left
Thursday to go camping," Samantha was saying. "Rick takes them
every year, right after school ends. They're not supposed to be
home until Monday afternoon. I don't want to worry them, but I do
want to be home when they get there."

Mulder smiled softly. "You'll be there," he reassured her. "And
if you can't, I'll go myself and explain."

Samantha glanced over at Scully, who was lowering herself into the
chair on the other side of the bed. "Did you ... have you heard
anything about Mom?" she asked.

Scully's gaze dropped to her lap. "No," she admitted. "But my
mother is supposed to call after they see her and give us an
update."

Mulder squeezed Samantha's hand, and she turned her head back to
look at him. "She'll be fine, Sam," he said.

Samantha nodded shakily. "I just ... I want to see her," she said,
her voice trembling.

Mulder smiled softly. "I know," he said. "And you will, very
soon."

==========
Room 214
South County Hospital
11:42 a.m.

Mrs. Mulder had closed her eyes again after their conversation,
and Mrs. Scully was giving her a few minutes to collect herself
before speaking again. But she never got the chance. Suddenly,
Mrs. Mulder's eyes flew open and landed on Mrs. Scully's. "Are
they sure it's her?" she said, fear in her voice.

Mrs. Scully had heard a bit about the false alarm Mulder and his
family -- and Scully -- had suffered through a few years before
and understood Mrs. Mulder's apprehension. "They're almost sure,"
she said softly. "Dana is having DNA testing done, but she and Fox
do think this is her. And ... Dana wanted me to ask you if you'd
be willing to provide a sample as well."

Mrs. Mulder's eyes widened, then lowered to gaze at her hands,
twisted into knots in her lap. "I ... I should tell them ..."
Her voice trailed off.

Mrs. Scully's brow furrowed in concern and question. "What is it?"
she asked softly, reaching forward to touch the other's woman's
arm.

She could barely hear Mrs. Mulder's voice as she spoke again. "The
testing ... they need to know ..." She paused again, then said,
resolutely, but still softly, "My husband was not Samantha's
father."

==========
Room 325
Northeast Georgetown Medical Center
11:52 a.m.

A knock sounded at the door, and Mulder, Scully, and Samantha all
looked up to see Dr. Griffin entering, again carrying Samantha's
chart. "Hello again," she said, smiling. "How's our patient?"

Samantha answered. "Fine, I guess," she said. "But I ... " Her
voice trailed off, and she glanced at her brother.

"But you want out of here, am I right?" Dr. Griffin finished,
flipping open the chart and scanning the information. "Well, I
have some good news for you. If everything stays stable, I think
we'll let you go home tomorrow. How's that?"

Wide smiles of relief crossed the faces of both Mulder and
Samantha, and Scully couldn't help but smile too. "Tomorrow?"
Samantha repeated.

"Yep, sometime in the morning," Dr. Griffin said, making a final
notation on the chart before closing it and dropping her arms to
her sides. "Your vitals are stable, your temperature is normal,
and your bloodwork is clear. You'll need to take it easy for a
while, of course, but I don't see any reason to keep you here."

"Thank you, Dr. Griffin," Samantha said, tears in her eyes.

Mulder nodded his agreement "From both ... from *all* of us," he
amended, glancing at Scully.

Dr. Griffin simply smiled. "Mrs. Carson," she said -- they'd
finally gotten her name corrected -- "you concentrate on getting
some rest for your big move tomorrow. I'll be by on rounds in the
morning for one last visit." She turned and left the room.

Samantha, still smiling, turned back to Mulder, but her face began
to fall when she saw the look of worry which was beginning to
crease his face. "Fox, what's wrong?" she said.

Scully looked at Mulder then, and suddenly realized the reason for
his anxiety. "Mulder, she'll be fine," she started, but he shook
his head sharply.

"No," he said. "I don't think she will." Then he realized he was
scaring Samantha and hurried to explain himself. "I'm sorry, Sam;
I don't mean to scare you," he said. "But you were taken from your
home to start with, and we don't know that they won't be back."

Samantha's eyes were wide with fear. "But I need to be there when
Rick and the kids get home," she said.

"You can," Mulder said, chewing his lower lip thoughtfully. "But
I'll be there with you, and we'll put guards on the house."

"Guards?" she repeated incredulously. "Fox, I really don't
think ..."

"He's right," Scully interrupted, drawing their attention to her.
"I think you have to be careful, Samantha. Especially ..." She
paused, then looked down at her hands, folded up in her lap.
"Especially with your children there," she finished faintly.

Samantha's forehead furrowed slightly. "Do you have children,
Agent Scully?" she asked innocently.

Scully pressed her eyes shut as the pain hit her, and Mulder
hurried to protect her. "Sam," he said, pulling his sister's
attention away from his partner. "Scully's right. You have to
think about your children, at least until we have a better idea
of what happened to you."

Samantha held his gaze, then nodded. "All right," she said.
"You're right." She glanced back at Scully, then said. "You're
both right."

==========
Room 214
South County Hospital
11:57 a.m.

Mrs. Scully sat in shocked silence a few minutes after Mrs.
Mulder's revelation, then nodded slowly. "Yes, I think Dana will
need to know that to be sure the testing is accurate," she said
softly. "Can you ... do you want to be the one to tell them?"

Mrs. Mulder inhaled sharply as her eyes fell shut, then nodded
jerkily. "I have to do it," she said. "I *need* to do it. We've
had too many secrets for too long."

Mrs. Scully leaned forward again to touch Mrs. Mulder's arm,
squeezing it gently. "I'll be glad to help you as much as I can,"
she said, smiling as Mrs. Mulder looked back at her.

Just then, Mrs. Scully remembered that Skinner was still waiting
outside. "Mrs. Mulder ..." she started.

"Please, call me Teena," Mrs. Mulder interrupted.

Mrs. Scully smiled. "And I'm Maggie," she said, then went on.
"Teena, I came here with Walter Skinner, Fox and Dana's boss at
the bureau. I think you've met him before?"

Mrs. Mulder nodded apprehensively. "He's the one ... he told me
Fox was dead," she said flatly.

"He didn't know," Mrs. Scully said in his defense. "We all thought
he was dead."

"Except Agent Scully," Mrs. Mulder said. "She said ..." She paused,
then continued, "Bill's funeral was just a few days after Fox
disappeared, and she was there. After the service, she came up to
me and told me Fox was alive. She said she hadn't seen him, but
she had a ... a very strong feeling that he was alive."

Mrs. Scully was surprised; Dana hadn't told her this. Had she had
a premonition, a dream, like Mrs. Scully herself had just before
Dana was abducted?

Mrs. Mulder seemed to realize Mrs. Scully was taken aback by her
words. "I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have said anything. I
had no right."

Mrs. Scully leaned forward immediately, placing on hand on Mrs.
Mulder's arm. "No, really, it's all right," she said. "I was just
surprised, that's all. Dana isn't one to ... she doesn't really
believe in that sort of thing."

Mrs. Mulder smiled softly. "I know," she said. "And she was very
hesitant to tell me. I think she didn't quite believe it then. But
she ..."

"She wanted to believe," Mrs. Scully finished, smiling.

Mrs. Mulder nodded, returning the smile, then sobered and said,
"You said Mr. Skinner came up with you?"

"Yes," Mrs. Scully said. "He's waiting outside, but please don't
feel obligated to see him."

Mrs. Mulder shook off her words. "No, really, it's fine," she said.
"We might not have gotten off on the right foot, but he must mean
well to have come this far."

Mrs. Scully nodded as she stood. "I'll get him," she said, turning
toward the door.

When she stepped into the hall, Skinner was on his feet in
moments. "How is she?" he asked.

"She's fine," Mrs. Scully said, smiling. "I told her you were
here, and she'd like to see you."

Skinner now looked apprehensive. "Are you sure it's ..."

"She doesn't blame you, Mr. Skinner," Mrs. Scully said. "She's a
bit nervous, but she doesn't hold it against you."

Skinner looked at her, then nodded, and they turned to go into the
room.

==========
Northeast Georgetown Medical Center
12:14 p.m.

Scully was sitting in a chair just outside Samantha's room, her
cell phone resting in her lap. She'd had to escape the room after
Samantha's comment, taking a few minutes to herself to regain her
equilibrium.

It still hurt.

She was distracted from her thoughts as the phone chirped in her
lap. Turning it on, she took a deep breath before answering,
"Scully."

"It's Skinner," her boss answered. "I wanted to let you know we've
seen Mrs. Mulder, and she's agreed to provide a blood sample for
you. I'll be bringing it back with me."

"Thank you, sir," Scully said.

"Also, Mrs. Mulder is being released from the hospital today, so I
will be taking her and your mother to Greenwich. Your mother has
offered to stay with her until she is ready to come to Washington
in a few days. I'll be setting up an agency guard on the house."

"Thank you, sir," Scully repeated. "Sir, do you know when they
will be back in Greenwich? I'd like to speak to my mother when she
can talk."

"We should be there by early this evening," Skinner answered.
"I'll tell her you want to talk to her."

Scully started to thank him again but realized what she was doing
and stopped herself. "That's fine, sir," she said. "Please also
tell them both that Mulder and Samantha are doing fine."

"I'll do that," Skinner said, and they ended the call.


==========================
Chapter Seven: Restoration
==========================

Home of Rick and Samantha Carson
Gaithersburg, Maryland
Monday, May 25, 1998
11:07 a.m.

Mulder stood in the middle of the living room, devouring his
surroundings like a starving man. Furniture, pictures, mementos,
even the patterns of dust on the shelves were absorbed and filed
away in his memory, to be pulled out and perused at leisure for
the rest of his life.

He didn't see his partner walk in from the side and stop, just
watching him. His gaze traveled over her but didn't pause in its
travels.

He already had *her* memorized.

Scully knew what Mulder was doing. She'd seen him do the same
thing dozens of times, usually at a crime scene. Drinking in the
details, then letting his mind wander until it drifted into a
theory, or a profile.

But this time, it was different. He wasn't doing this to solve a
case.

He was trying to learn his sister again.

Slipping out silently, Scully went looking for Samantha. They'd
brought her home less than an hour before, and she'd been busy
changing clothes, straightening up, and generally trying not to
make it obvious to her family that the house had been empty for
three days.

Scully found her in the kitchen, pouring out a carton of spoiled
milk. Samantha looked up at the sound of footsteps, then offered
a tentative smile.

Scully returned the smile, stopping across the counter from
Samantha. "Samantha," she started, her gaze lowering to her hands
as she folded them on the countertop. "I don't want to interfere,
but I think it might do both you and Mulder some good if you could
spend some time together. I know he wants to know about you and
your family."

She looked back up to see Samantha nodding, her bottom lip caught
between her teeth. "I ... I know," Samantha said. "It's just ...
it's hard ..."

Following an impulse she didn't even try to question, Scully
reached out one hand and placed it over the other woman's where it
lay on the edge of the sink. "I know," she said softly. "It's hard
for Mulder, too. But I think ... it's what you need. What both of
you need."

Samantha looked at her, then nodded again, quickly. "Is he in the
living room?" she asked, her voice quavering.

Scully nodded, then gave a half-smile. "I think he's trying to
memorize it."

Samantha laughed a bit at the comment, and Scully felt a weight
lift off her shoulders at the sound.

Samantha reached for a dishcloth and wiped her hands. "I'll go
talk to him," she said, her voice stronger.

Scully remained in the kitchen, taking a look around herself.
Despite her anger at Mulder for not telling her when he saw his
sister, she couldn't help but be happy for him. For both of them.

Now, if she only knew what came next.

==========
Office of Assistant Director Walter Skinner
J. Edgar Hoover FBI building
11:29 a.m.

Skinner didn't even look up when the knock sounded on his inner
office door. "Come in," he barked, still reading through the
personnel file on his desk.

He'd driven back from Connecticut the night before, then delivered
Mrs. Mulder's blood sample to the lab first thing this morning.
His next meeting was right on time.

He did look up when the door opened, and in stepped Special Agent
Jeffery Spender. "You wanted to see me, sir?" the young man said.

Skinner leaned back. "Agent Spender, please, have a seat," he
said, gesturing to the chairs at the other side of his desk. When
Spender was seated, Skinner leaned forward again, planting his
elbows on the desktop and grasping the edges of the folder he'd
been reading.

"Agent Spender," he began. "I've been told you met with a man in
the parking garage at the psychiatric hospital in Gaithersburg
last week. Is that true?"

Spender shifted slightly in his chair. "I wouldn't call it a
'meeting,' sir. I was approached by a man in the garage, yes."

Skinner looked down at the file. "And did you recognize the man?"

"No, sir."

Skinner glared up at the young agent. "You're saying you have no
idea who the man is."

Spender shifted again. "No, sir," he replied. "I'm saying I didn't
recognize the man."

No wonder this kid finished in the top ten of his law school
class, Skinner thought. Best dodge I've heard since the last
time Mulder was in here.

Out loud, Skinner said, "Let me rephrase the question, Agent
Spender. Do you now, or have you ever, known the identity of the
man who approached you in the parking garage?"

Spender's gaze faltered a bit as he answered. "No, I do not know
his identity."

Skinner continued to stare at him. "Have you seen him anywhere
else?"

At this, Spender nodded. "Yes, sir, I have."

"Please describe the meeting to me, Agent Spender. In detail."

Spender spoke in a near monotone as he complied. "I saw him
Thursday night, in the hallway of the second floor, near the
elevators. I walked around the corner, and he was walking toward
me. I asked if I could help him, and he said no, but he could help
me. He said he had been watching me, that he had given me the
Gibson Praise case. When I asked why, he said ..." He paused, then
said, "He told me he was my father."

Skinner nodded slowly, still holding Spender's gaze. "Do you have
any brothers or sisters, Agent Spender?"

Spender looked confused at the sudden change of topic. "No, sir,
but I don't see what ..."

"Your parents are divorced, are they not?"

At this, Spender stiffened. "Assistant Director Skinner, I believe
you are aware of my mother's disappearance. It is not a topic I
enjoy discussing."

Skinner relaxed slightly, blowing out a breath. "I know that,
Spender," he said in a slightly softer tone. "But I need to verify
the information before continuing. Your parents were divorced,
correct?"

Spender hesitated, then nodded. "Yes," he said. "When I was ten."

Skinner nodded again. "Agent Spender, I would like to request that
you provide a blood sample for DNA matching."

Now Spender was completely lost. "Is there ... may I ask why,
sir?"

Skinner glanced down at the file, then back up, before answering.
"You may have a sister after all."

==========
Home of Rick and Samantha Carson
3:02 p.m.

Scully had gone home to allow Samantha and Mulder some time alone
together, and they were sitting side-by-side on the couch, looking
at photo albums, when they heard the sound of a car pulling into
the driveway. Samantha immediately jumped up to look out the
window, and when she turned back toward Mulder, her face was a
blend of happiness and apprehension.

"It's Rick and the kids," she said unnecessarily.

Mulder nodded, his eyes locked with hers as he stood. "Would
you ... do you want to talk to him alone first?" he asked.

Samantha hestitated, then shook her head. "I ... I think we'd
better just get it over with," she said.

They had no more time to talk about it before a key was turning
in the lock and Samantha's husband stepped in. He was an inch or
so taller than Mulder, more thickly built but still slender, with
an olive complexion. His hair was jet black, with just a few gray
hairs beginning to appear at the temples, and his eyes were a deep
brown.

He was already speaking as he came in, his voice deep and rich.
"Honey?" he said. "Do we have company?"

Then he caught sight of his wife, and the man standing in the
center of the living room, and he froze. "What's going on here?"
he said.

Samantha was at his side in an instant. "Rick," she said,
realizing she had to explain fast, before her husband got the
wrong idea. "This is my brother, Fox."

Rick stared at her, then turned his gaze slowly to the other man.
"Your *brother*?" he asked, his tone a bit harsh. "I thought your
brother was dead."

Mulder felt compelled to speak. "She thought I was dead, too," he
said. "But I'm not."

No one moved for a few seconds, until Samantha reached for Rick's
hand. "Let me get the kids in and settled upstairs, honey, and
we'll sit down and talk," she said.

Before he could answer, the two kids in question flew in the door.
"Mom!" the girl yelled, throwing herself into her arms. She looked
about seven or eight, Mulder guessed.

The boy, apparently a few years older, stopped behind his sister
as he saw the strange man in the living room. "Who are you?" he
asked suspiciously.

Rick turned to look down at his son, but Samantha spoke first.
"He's an old friend, Jimmy," she said, releasing her daughter and
standing back up. "Your dad and I need to talk to him for a few
minutes. Why don't you and Leah go up to your rooms for a while,
and we'll come get you when we're done."

Jimmy was still staring at Mulder, until his father spoke to him.
"Yeah, you two head upstairs. We'll unload the car in a while."

The children looked at their parents, then nodded solemnly and
started up the stairs, glancing back down several times.

Samantha watched them go, then turned back to her husband, who was
again staring at Mulder. "Let's sit down, shall we?" Samantha
said, tilting her head toward the living room before moving in
that direction.

Mulder sat back down on the sofa, perching on the edge of the
cushions, his entire body rigid with tension. Rick similarly sat
in one of the side chairs, and Samantha was just about to join
them when a knock sounded on the door.

Glancing at the two men, she returned to the door and looked out,
then opened the door to reveal Scully. "Agent Scully," Samantha
said. "Please, come in."

Scully could feel the tension in the air and needed just a moment
to discover the source. A man she didn't recognize sat in one of
the living room chairs, eyeing her partner warily. Before she
could ask, though, Samantha saved her the trouble.

"Agent Scully, this is my husband, Rick Carson," she said, then
gestured toward the men. "We were about to fill him in on what's
been happening."

Scully nodded. "I can come back later," she said.

"No," Samantha interrupted. "Please, come join us."

Scully hesitated, then nodded again and moved to the sofa. Mulder
caught her eye as she walked, flicking his gaze once to the sofa
next to him. She got the message and sat there, just to his left. 

Samantha sat in a chair across from them but turned to her
husband. "Honey, I thought Fox was dead, too," she said. "But he's
not. He'd been looking for me for a long time. I think the man who
raised me lied to me about him. About a lot of things."

Rick looked at Mulder as he spoke. "And how do you know this guy's
not lying?" he demanded.

"I just know," Samantha answered, searching her husband's face.

Rick's eyes, still on Mulder, narrowed. "Can you prove you're who
you say you are?" he asked harshly.

Before Mulder could answer, Scully intervened. "Mr. Carson," she
said. "Mulder and I are FBI agents. You're more than welcome to
check our identities with the Bureau. They will confirm both who
he is, and that he's been looking for Samantha for years." She
paused, then continued. "But I'm afraid that will have to wait."
She turned her attention to Samantha. "Samantha, we said yesterday
that you could be in danger here. I spoke to Assistant Director
Skinner on my way over here, and he's found a safe house for you
and your family. It's just for a few days, until things have
settled down a bit."

"No way," Rick said, rising to his feet. "I'm just in the door
after been gone for the weekend, and you drop this crazy story on
me. And now you expect me to pick up and *leave* my house?"

"Honey," Samantha jumped up and grabbed his hand. "Please, Rick,
I think Agent Scully is right. We have to think about the kids."

Then Mulder spoke for the first time, so softly the others had to
strain to hear him. "She's my sister. I've spent twenty-five years
looking for her. And I don't want to lose her again."

He locked gazes with Rick, and the two men faced off silently for
a full fifteen seconds before Rick looked away. His shoulders
lowered slightly as some of the tension flowed out of him, and
then he nodded slightly. "Okay," he agreed, looking at Samantha.
"If you think we really need to."

Samantha nodded. "I do, Rick," she whispered. "We have to be
sure."

Rick looked at her a few more moments, then blew out a breath and
turned toward Scully. "When do we have to leave?" he asked.

"As soon as possible," she replied. "Mulder and I will be glad to
help you pack what you need. The house is about an hour away."

Rick nodded slowly. "I'll get the car unloaded," he said, then
squeezed Samantha's hand briefly before heading out the front
door.

Samantha turned to Scully. "I'll get started packing," she said.
"I think we can get what we need together fairly quickly. What do
we need to bring besides clothes?"

"Any personal items, special foods or medicines, toys for the
kids," Scully replied. "Towels and linens, and basic food, are
provided."

Samantha nodded, then turned back to Mulder. "Fox," she said
softly. "Could you help Rick get the camping gear unloaded?"

Mulder shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I ... I don't think
he'd want ..."

"He'll be fine, Fox," Samantha said reassuringly. "It's an
adjustment, but he's a good man. I think the two of you just need
to talk."

Mulder gazed at her, then nodded and rose. "I'll give it a try,"
he said, shooting his sister a wry half-smile.

"Thank you, Fox," she said, reaching to touch his arm as he moved
past her toward the door.

Scully glanced at Samantha. "Could you excuse me for a second?"
she said, rising to follow Mulder. She caught up with him just
outside the door. "Mulder," she said, and he turned to face her,
a questioning look on his face. She glanced down, then back up at
him. "I wanted to tell you what else Skinner said when I talked to
him. He talked to Spender, and he's agreed to give Danny a blood
sample." She paused, then said, "Skinner also said Spender told
him he saw 'Smoking Man' again after the time you saw them
together. He said he told Spender he was his father."

Mulder's eyes were intense on her as he bent his head close to
hers. His face was a kaleidoscope of emotions. "If Spender *is*
Samantha's half-brother," he said, "do you think ..."

"He'd be willing to help us?" Scully finished.

"Yes," Mulder said, hope warring with anger in his eyes.

Scully nodded. "I think so," she said. "You and he didn't get off
on the right foot, but I think he'll do the right thing."

Mulder sighed as he straightened. "I hope so," he said, his gaze
drifting off to an indiscriminate point in midair.

Scully watched him think for a moment, then said, "Well, I'm
going to go in and see if Samantha needs any help."

Mulder glanced back at her, then nodded. "And I need to go help
Rick," he said, his reluctance obvious in his tense stance.

Scully lifted an eyebrow. "He's not the enemy, Mulder," she said.
"Relax."

Mulder let out a short bark of laughter. "Easier said than done,
Agent Scully," he said, flashing her a half-grin before heading
down the steps toward the minivan in the driveway.

==========
4:33 p.m.

Mulder and Rick were coming down the stairs with the last load of
suitcases when Scully and Samantha emerged from the kitchen, each
carrying a bag of groceries and other items. The women paused as
the kids came into sight, their feet clattering down the stairs
as their excited voices filled the room.

"This is cool!" Jimmy exclaimed as he jumped over the last step
and landed in a karate-like pose near the door. "So you're really
an FBI agent?"

Mulder grinned down at the youngster, who'd latched himself onto
his uncle as soon as they'd been "officially" introduced an hour
before. "Yeah, I am," he said, bending over to put himself at eye-
level with Jimmy. "And it's a lot of hard work, you know. But it
is fun."

Scully watched silently, captured by the caring and love so openly
displayed on her partner's face as he looked at the nephew he
never knew he had.

Just then, Leah, still standing on the second step, looked across
the room and spied Scully. "Are you an FBI agent, too?" she asked,
a note of wonder in her voice.

Mulder glanced up at his niece and answered before Scully had the
chance. "She sure is," he said, "And one of the best."

Scully was dumbfounded by his words, and by the note of what she
could only describe as pride in his voice. She stared at him as
he swiveled his head to look at her, and she saw the same look
he'd just directed at his nephew.

Caring. And love.


=====================
Chapter Eight: Truths
=====================

Home of Teena Mulder
Greenwich, Connecticut
Tuesday, May 26, 1998
9:45 a.m.

"I can't stand this any more. I've got to get down there!"

Mrs. Scully smiled at the woman who was pacing up and down the
length of the small living room. Teena Mulder was anxious, ready
to go to Washington and see the daughter she hadn't seen in 25
years.

"Teena," Mrs. Scully said gently. "I know you want to go, but ..."

"I feel fine, Maggie," Mrs. Mulder insisted, pausing in her
travels to look down at the other woman, a pleading look in her
eyes. "I just want to see Samantha."

Mrs. Scully paused, then nodded. "If you promise to take it easy,"
she said, a note of teasing in her tone.

Mrs. Mulder smiled her relief. "I will," she said.

==========
Offices of the Lone Gunmen
10:22 a.m.

Scully leaned down over Byers' shoulder, squinting a bit to see
the display on the computer monitor more clearly. "So that's what
was in my blood," she mused.

Byers seemed a bit uncomfortable at her scrutiny but nodded.
"Yes, or close to it," he replied. "This --" he indicated a
linked line of hexagons on the screen -- "is the branched DNA.
Inactive, apparently a by-product of the testing process. It's
now serving as a poison to the system."

"Or it was," Langly chimed in from where he sat at one end of the
desk, elbows propped on the surface and forearms crossed. "That's
the big difference between what we found in Samantha's blood and
what was in yours. She has antibodies." He stretched one hand
across to touch the screen, indicating the long strands in the
display showing the antibodies.

Scully glanced at the blond Gunman briefly before turning her
attention back to the screen. "Okay," she said. "But you said
there was something else?"

"Yes," Frohike piped up, swiveling his chair around where he sat
at another computer a few feet away. "If you'll step over here,
Agent Scully?"

She hesitated only a moment before moving to stand next to
Frohike's chair. He tried, unsuccessfully, to hold back a grin
as he pointed to the screen. "This shows the results of similar
testing on Mulder's blood. Apparently, he has the same
antibodies, or very similar ones."

Scully's eyes widened as she bent closer to the screen. "What?"
she said.

Frohike slapped a few keys, and the screen split to show side-
by-side depictions of the two blood tests. "Here's Samantha's
test," he said, poking a finger at the display on the left, "and
that's Mulder's." He hit another few keys, and the two displays
zoomed in closer.

He didn't speak again, just leaned back and looked up at Scully,
who was transfixed by what she saw on the screen. Nearly identical
strands of antibodies -- antibodies for something she felt sure
Mulder had never been exposed to.

Unless ...

"Could Mulder's antibodies be a result of his exposure to the
unidentified toxins?" Scully asked.

Frohike glanced up at her again. "It's possible," he said, half-
shrugging. "If both the branched DNA and the toxin he was
exposed to are the result of genetic experimentation ... well,
it's possible."

Scully looked back over her shoulder toward Byers and Langly,
who were watching her reaction intently. "So what's your theory?"
she asked.

Byers shrugged. "An inoculation of some kind, perhaps. But we
think it's more likely some kind of natural immune response.
Their bodies are more able to fight off the toxins."

Scully chewed her bottom lip as she straightened, thinking. "So
Mulder and Samantha have this immunity because they're related,"
she said, an idea swimming through her mind but refusing to
surface completely.

"Could be," Frohike said. "It would be something very rare, at
any rate. We'd need to do more testing to be sure."

Scully's eyes focused on Byers. "I'd like to bring you another
blood sample," she said. "We have a sample from Mulder's mother.
If she has a similar immunity, that could settle the question."

Byers nodded, then paused. "But Mulder's father ..."

"Is dead," Scully finished. "But we have reason to believe that
Mulder's father is not Samantha's father."

The Gunmen exchanged glances before looking back at Scully. "Who
is Samantha's father?" Langly finally asked.

Scully scanned the three faces before responding. "We're not
sure," she said. "But she may have another half-brother."

Stunned silence greeted this announcement, and Scully suppressed
a smile. "I may be bringing you another sample for testing as
well," she said. "Thanks for everything, guys."

Frohike recovered first. "Oh, it's always our pleasure, Agent
Scully," he said, leaping from his seat to escort her to the
door. "Please, come by any time."

In the background, Scully could see the half-grins of amusement
on the faces of Byers and Langly at Frohike's open adoration. She
managed to smile sweetly at all three as she left.

And she made it to the car before she laughed.

==========
Safe house
Somewhere in Northern Virginia
10:27 a.m.

Mulder had just pulled into the driveway of the house when his
cell phone trilled in his pocket. Yanking it out, he started to
climb from the car as he answered, "Mulder."

"Fox," came the voice of his partner's mother. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Scully," he said, a note of surprise mixed with
concern in his voice. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no, not at all," Mrs. Scully rushed to reassure him. "I'm
just calling to tell you your mother and I will be leaving in
about a half-hour to come to Washington."

Mulder stopped in his tracks, halfway to the house's front door.
"Already?" he asked. "Is Mom going to be okay to travel that
soon?"

Mrs. Scully chuckled. "I had the same reaction, Fox," she said.
"But she really seems to be fine, just anxious to see Samantha.
And you."

Mulder huffed out a breath and planted his free hand on his hip.
"Samantha, I can understand. But me ..." His voice trailed off.

Mrs. Scully's voice was soft. "She's your mother, Fox," she said.
"You and she may not have had the best relationship, but she's
still your mother."

Mulder felt tears pricking his eyes and drew in a steadying
breath. Those Scully women can always get to me, he thought.
Out loud, he said, "Thanks, Mrs. Scully. Is someone there to
drive you down?"

"Yes, I've already spoken to Mr. Skinner," Mrs. Scully replied.
"One of the agents who's been guarding the house will be
driving for us. Mr. Skinner will meet us at my house and bring
us to the safe house himself."

Mulder realized he was still standing in the middle of the yard
and resumed his movement toward the house. "I'm at the safe
house now, so I'll tell Samantha," he said.

"That's wonderful, Fox," came the reply. "I'll see you this
afternoon."

"'Bye, Mrs. Scully," Mulder said, before shutting the phone off
and raising his free hand to knock on the door.

==========
Office of Assistant Director Walter Skinner
J. Edgar Hoover FBI building
11:22 a.m.

Scully walked into Skinner's outer office and smiled at his
assistant, Kimberly, who immediately nodded toward the door.
"He's waiting for you," Kimberly said.

"Thanks," Scully answered, stopping to rap her knuckles lightly
on the door.

"Come in," Skinner called, and Scully opened the door to step in.
The first thing she saw, however, was not the AD but Jeffery
Spender, standing in front of Skinner's desk.

Scully paused momentarily at the sight, then continued into the
room, closing the door behind her. "Sir," she said, nodding at
Skinner, then turned toward Spender. "Agent Spender," she said
formally.

Skinner waved a hand toward the other agent. "Before we go any
further, Agent Scully," he said. "I believe Agent Spender has
something he'd like to say."

Scully raised an eyebrow as she looked at Spender, and she could
have sworn he blushed as he looked down as his feet. But when he
raised his head back to meet her gaze, he was nothing but
professional.

"Agent Scully," he began. "Assistant Director Skinner and I have
been talking, and I believe I owe you an apology. I have let rumor
and hearsay shape my opinion of both you and your partner, rather
than drawing my own conclusions. I have been inexcusably hostile
to both of you, and most particularly to Agent Mulder. I hope that
you can forgive me."

Scully held his gaze unwaveringly. "Thank you, Agent Spender, I
appreciate your honesty," she said. "However, I believe you owe
the apology not to me but to Agent Mulder. You have condemned him
solely on the basis of his admittedly unorthodox beliefs, when you
should have been learning to respect his investigative abilities."

Spender nodded. "You're right," he said. "I should have realized
that from the beginning, but especially after his comments during
our briefing on the Gibson Praise case. You recall that, after
reviewing the tapes, I agreed with Agent Mulder's theory of
precognitive awareness."

Scully didn't flinch. "Yes, you did," she said, a hint of
challenge creeping into her voice. "But did you tell *him* that?"

Spender looked away from her hard gaze, then back. "No," he
admitted. "But I should have."

At this, Skinner interrupted. "All right, the rest of the
apologies can wait," he said. "Take a seat, agents." As they moved
to comply and he sat down himself, he continued, "I'd like to
discuss the specifics of this case with both of you."

Scully glanced at the AD as she sat. "Sir?" she asked.

Skinner planted his elbows on the desk and folded his hands.
Leaning forward, he said, "Agent Scully, I'm sure you understand
that Agent Mulder's personal involvement in this case precludes
his direct involvement in the investigation," he said.

"Yes, sir, but ..." Scully started.

"Be that as it may," Skinner went on, holding up one hand. "I
realize the importance of this case and will therefore allow Agent
Mulder some degree of involvement. However, the two of you are
being assigned assistance. In the form of Agent Spender."

Scully sat back in her chair. "Sir, I ..."

Skinner shot her a glare. "Are you refusing an assignment, Agent
Scully?" he demanded. "If so, I'll be glad to turn this case over
to someone else."

Scully glanced down at her lap, then back up. "No, sir," she
replied.

Skinner nodded briskly. "Good," he said. "Now, I believe we have
a meeting to set up." He began to rise from his seat.

Scully and Spender looked at each other, then at him, puzzled.
"Sir?" Scully repeated.

Skinner turned back toward her, and shot her another almost-grin.
"Your mother and Mrs. Mulder are on their way home."

==========
Safe house
Somewhere in Northern Virginia
2:17 p.m.

As the car pulled up in front of the house, Mrs. Scully felt Mrs.
Mulder grab for her hand. The two women were riding in the back
seat of Skinner's car, with Scully riding in front.

Mrs. Scully glanced at Mrs. Mulder and was concerned at the blind
fear she saw in the other woman's eyes. "Teena, are you all right?"
she asked, leaning toward her.

Mrs. Mulder squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip, in an
expression so like Mulder that it was all Mrs. Scully could do
not to laugh out loud. Softly, Mrs. Mulder said, "I don't know
if I can do this right now."

Mrs. Scully slid a hand to Mrs. Mulder's shoulder and then glanced
over the front seat at Skinner and Scully. "Why don't you two go
ahead," she said. "We'll be on in a few minutes."

"Okay, Mom," Scully said, shooting a glance at her boss. The two
climbed from the car and started up the walkway toward the house.

Mrs. Scully turned back to Mrs. Mulder as the others left. "Teena,"
she said gently. "It's going to be fine, really. It may be hard at
first, but she's your daughter. It will work out okay."

Mrs. Mulder shook her head sharply, her breath ragged. "I can't,
I can't," she moaned. "I can't do this alone."

Mrs. Scully bent her head down so her new friend could see her
smile. "You're not doing it alone," she said. "I'll be right
there."

Mrs. Mulder's head jerked up and the women's eyes met. Slowly,
Mrs. Mulder relaxed a bit, and she managed to nod.

==========
Inside, Mulder greeted Scully and Skinner in the foyer and Scully
quickly explained the situation. Mulder looked out and saw the two
women huddled together in the back seat of the car, his residual
anger toward his mother warring with his regret over their
difficult relationship.

Then he felt a small hand close over his. "Why don't you talk to
her first," Scully whispered.

He looked down into clear blue-green eyes, and wondered for the
millionth time where he'd be without his partner. Smiling softly,
he shrugged and said, "It's worth a shot."

She squeezed his hand and moved away to allow him through the
front door. He headed across the lawn slowly, coming to a halt a
few feet from the car as the women emerged.

Mrs. Scully looked up first, and a smile spread across her face.
"Fox," she said warmly, reaching out to squeeze the same hand her
daughter had just released.

"Mrs. Scully," Mulder said, giving her a small smile before
turning toward his mother. Taking a deep breath, he met her eyes.
"Mom," he said.

Mrs. Mulder looked up at her son, her eyes still red from crying,
and managed a small, wavering smile. "Fox," she whispered.

Before he even realized what he was doing, Mulder had engulfed his
mother in a hug and was whispering to her. "It's her, Mom, it's
really her this time," he murmured, and he felt her tears begin
anew against his shoulder.

Gently pulling away, he bent to look at her as she wiped the
moisture from her eyes. Taking her hand, he said, "Let's go see
Samantha."

==========
2:58 p.m.

Jeffery Spender pulled up to the safe house in his FBI-issue
sedan, a bit apprehensive about entering the home. He'd been told
of the possibility that Samantha Mulder could be his sister, but
he wasn't sure he was ready to face her quite yet.

Still, he had his orders from Skinner, and he didn't really want
to face the AD if he didn't show up by three, when he was supposed
to arrive.

He considered as he walked toward the house. Skinner had decided
to allow Mrs. Mulder time to reunite with Samantha before throwing
Spender into the mix. So Spender had spent the past few hours
going through his own records, searching for information on his
family's background.

He hadn't found out anything he didn't already know. His birth
certificate listed his parents as John and Cassandra Spender,
married May 1966, divorced September 1978. His mother had spent
much of the next 19 years in and out of mental hospitals,
predicated mainly on her insistence that she'd been abducted
repeatedly, until her disappearance in March. He'd been raised
mainly by her parents. There was no mention of any brother or
sister.

Now, he paused at the front door of the safe house before knocking.
A sound came from inside, and the door was opened to reveal his
boss.

"Right on time, Agent Spender," Skinner said, stepping back so the
agent could come in. Another man stood behind the AD, and Spender
guessed this was Rick, Samantha's husband.

He turned to his right and saw Mrs. Scully and her daughter
standing a few feet from the door, watching the scene in the
living room. Spender looked past them and saw Mulder sitting far
forward on a chair, his attention riveted on the two women sitting
close together on the sofa across from him. One, white-haired and
teary-eyed, was facing toward the door and glanced up as Spender
came into her line of vision.

Mulder saw her reaction and also looked up, pinning Spender with
his eyes. Before he could speak, however, Samantha turned to see
what they were looking at, and all the breath ran out of Spender's
lungs.

"Sam?" he breathed.

She nodded, her tears beginning again, and rose to face him. He
walked toward her, his eyes never leaving her face, and he stopped
just inches from her. "Sam?" he repeated, an almost childlike
wonder invading his voice.

"It's me, Jeff," she said.

And then he was crushing her to him, hugging her tight and
murmuring her name over and over. Scully saw the look of rage
flash in Mulder's eyes and hurried to his side, taking his hand
in hers again and whispering to him, trying to calm him down.

After a few moments, Spender pulled back, glancing over Samantha's
shoulder at an angry Mulder and realizing he was stepping on
toes. "I'm sorry," he said, releasing his hold on Samantha, then
looking back at her. "I just couldn't believe it ... I thought it
was a dream. I had ... " He glanced again at Mulder. "I had
forgotten all about that summer," he said, directing his
explanation to the other agent. "Until I saw Sam again ..." He
looked back at her. "And now I remember."

Silence took over for a few long moments, until Samantha glanced
over her shoulder at her mother, who had also risen to her feet.
"Mom," she said, her voice quavering. "Mom, this is Jeffery
Spender."

"Spender?" Rick cut in from his position across the room, and
all heads swiveled to face him. "The other brother?

"Half-brother, actually," Samantha replied.

Before she could say more, though, Mrs. Mulder sat down, hard.
Everyone turned their attention back to her, and Samantha took a
step toward her. "Mom? Are you okay?" she said.

Mrs. Mulder immediately raised a hand and waved her off. "I'm
fine, I'm fine," she said, then raised her head and slowly moved
her gaze across the somewhat shell-shocked faces that surrounded
her. "But I think it's time to tell you all what I remember."


=====================
Chapter Nine: History 
=====================

Safe house
Somewhere in Northern Virginia
Tuesday, May 26, 1998
4:02 p.m.

"I met Bill in the fall of 1956, at a party on the Vineyard. The
hosts were old friends of my family, and I had just arrived back
in the States following my Grand Tour of Europe. Bill approached
me and asked me to dance. He was gracious and charming, and I
liked him immediately.

"We didn't begin dating right away. I actually worked part-time as
a secretary for about six months -- against my father's wishes; he
felt working was beneath me. But it was important to me, so he
reluctantly agreed.

"About six months after that first party, Bill called and asked me
to a dinner some colleagues of his were giving. We began dating
then, and he asked me to marry him about a year later.

"It was just six months after the wedding that Bill told me
everything -- or, at least, everything he knew at the time. I
truly don't remember all the details; some were just too
complicated, and some have just been lost over the years. But he
said we were part of a special genetic testing program that had
been going on for years. I knew he worked for the State
Department, but what I didn't know until then was that he was
working on that specific program.

"He said that, as a result of the genetic testing we had
undergone, he was asked to approach and court me, with the intent
of marrying me and having children. I was furious, of course, but
he told me repeatedly that he hadn't planned on going through with
it, until he actually met me. That's why it took so long for him
to call and ask me for a date, he said -- he didn't want us to be
subjected to the program, but he had fallen for me and didn't want
to go on without me.

"He said he thought he could avoid the program by refusing to
undergo any further testing. We agreed on that course of action
and went on with our lives.

"We were delighted when we learned I was expecting a child. We
kept the news a secret as long as possible, and Bill didn't make
any announcements at work until after Fox was born. There seemed
to be no reaction, and we relaxed.

"But Fox was a precocious child. He was walking at eight months,
talking at eleven, and started reading when he was barely two. We
were astonished but happy, and began considering having another
child.

"That's when the trouble started. Bill was called in by the
coordinators of the program and told that he had done well, but
that for the purposes of the experiment he must allow another man
to father my next child.

"Bill was outraged, of course. But the men persisted, finally
going so far as to threaten to take Fox away if we didn't agree.

"We were trapped, and we finally had to agree. I underwent a very
early form of artificial insemination -- twice, actually -- and
became pregnant again in early 1965.

"Samantha was less of a prodigy outwardly as Fox, but her blood
tests showed some unusual results. She had higher immune response
than usual -- actually, so did Fox, but Samantha's was much more
pronounced. Both were rarely sick and very fast healers. Samantha's
broken collarbone took less than half the normal time to heal.

"But Bill and I had an underlying fear of what might be over the
horizon, and we were right. When Samantha was six -- just after
the collarbone healed, actually -- Bill was called in again with
the same demands. This time, though, he flatly refused. We both
did.

"The threats started again, but we stood firm. We never really
believed it would come to that.

"But it did.

"Bill was given a choice: give up Fox or Samantha, or allow the
pregnancy. He refused, again, but the men persisted. He didn't
tell me about this; he never said, but I think he was trying to
protect me.

"That's when Bill started to drink, and I didn't know what to do
about it. He was drunk the night he asked me if I had a favorite
between my two children, and I told him I could never choose one.

"I don't know if Bill chose, or if the project coordinators did.
But when Samantha disappeared, I realized our folly in refusing
those men. I was ready to give in to get my daughter back, but by
then our marriage was falling apart.

"I knew what was happening, but I just couldn't deal with it.
Bill's drinking was getting worse, and he started to take his
anger out on me, and on Fox. He never hit me, and I was so blinded
by my own pain that I didn't know for months that he was beating
Fox. When I finally realized it, I had a nervous breakdown, and I
was in the hospital for nearly a month. By the time I got out,
Bill had moved out, and we divorced a year later.

"I barely functioned for a long time after that, and I know now it
was hard on you, Fox. I simply didn't understand, I was so wrapped
up in myself.

"After Fox went to college, I saw a psychiatrist for about a year,
but that only helped me learn to hide from my memories and bury my
emotions. It did more harm than good. When you came to me, Fox,
and asked if I ever had to choose ... it brought all those
repressed feelings back up, and by then I couldn't face them.

"So I shut you out. It was all I could think of to do.

"I wasn't lying when I told you I couldn't remember everything.
But I didn't tell you what I did remember, and I should have. I
lost some of those memories to my stroke. I can't remember who the
men were, the ones who came to the house and threatened to take
our children if we didn't cooperate. I don't remember what they
looked like, and I can't remember any names.

"The only help I can offer is that I may still have a journal from
when you were a baby, Fox. I don't remember where I put it -- I'm
not even sure I kept it -- and I don't remember what I wrote in
it. But I did have one, and it may answer some of your questions.

"I'm so sorry, Fox, for everything. I don't expect you to forgive
me, but I hope I can at least help you find your answers."
 
==========

The room was quiet for a long time after Mrs. Mulder finished
speaking, seven pairs of eyes trained on her tear-stained face.

Behind those eyes, though, minds were racing. All were stunned by
the revelations, Mulder wondering immediately where to look for
the journal. No one spoke as Samantha comforted her mother, the
two crying together. Mrs. Scully had moved up behind the sofa as
Mrs. Mulder spoke and laid a hand on the other woman's shoulder,
silently offering the support she'd promised.

Finally, to everyone's surprise, it was Spender who broke the
silence. "So ... you think the man who fathered Samantha may have
fathered me with my mother, as part of the same ... project?" he
asked, his eyes moving between Mulder and Scully where they sat
close together, across the room from him.

Scully eyed him coolly. "It would certainly help explain your
mother's disappearance," she said evenly.

Spender nodded slowly, then turned toward Skinner. "Sir," he said.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to go to my mother's house and go
through some of her things. I might find something to help shed
more light on the subject."

Skinner jerked his chin down once in agreement. "Be in my office
at ten tomorrow morning," he said sharply.

"Yes, sir," Spender said, before turning back to the group in the
living room. "I'll see you all tomorrow." He turned and headed out
the door.

From the corner of her eye, Scully saw the muscles along Mulder's
jaw twitch. She reached out and laid a hand on his arm again, and
when he looked at her, she murmured, "It's a lot for him to take
in, Mulder." She paused, then glanced at his mother. "It's a lot
for all of us to take in."

She felt the muscles in Mulder's forearm relax as he spoke,
softly. "Yeah, it is," he agreed, his gaze back on his sister and
his mother.

Another few moments passed, and Samantha and her mother slowly
pulled apart, wiping their eyes. Samantha smiled shakily at her
mother, then glanced across the room at her husband. "Rick, could
you get Mom's bag and take it up to the extra bedroom?" she said.
"I think she'd like to rest for a while."

"Sure," Rick said, pushing away from the wall where he was leaning
and turning toward Skinner. "I believe it's in your car, Mr.
Skinner?" he asked.

Skinner nodded again. "I'll go with you," he said, and the two
men slipped out the door.

Samantha slowly rose, offering Mrs. Mulder an arm to help her up.
Mulder immediately jumped up, taking her other arm, and the two
helped their mother up the stairs.

Scully rose as well, stepping over to her mother, who reached to
squeeze her daughter's hand. "Are you okay, honey?" Mrs. Scully
asked.

"I'm fine, Mom," Scully replied automatically, still watching the
group moving up the stairs. But her mind was far away, still
considering all the implications of Mrs. Mulder's story.

Mrs. Scully studied her daughter's face for a moment, then smiled
softly. "It'll be okay, Dana," she said, reaching up to brush back
a lock of hair.

Scully looked down at her mother and smiled. "I know, Mom," she
answered.

Rick and Skinner came in then, and Rick headed up the stairs with
Mrs. Mulder's bag as Skinner faced Scully. "Agent Scully, I'm
going to head back into town," he said. "Do you or your mother
need a ride home?"

Scully shook her head. "I need to talk to Mulder first, sir," she
answered, then looked at her mother. "Mom, are you ready to go?"

"But I don't want to put you out, Mr. Skinner," Mrs. Scully said,
glancing up at the AD.

Skinner shook his head. "It's no trouble, Mrs. Scully. I'm ready
whenever you are."

Mrs. Scully nodded, then reached to retrieve her purse from a
table near the front door. Turning back to her daughter, she
opened her arms and pulled her into a hug. "Take care, Dana," she
whispered. "Of yourself, and Fox, too."

"I will, Mom," Scully answered.

They pulled apart, and Mrs. Scully turned to the door. "I'm
ready," she told Skinner, and he escorted her out.

Scully sighed once, deeply, then wandered back over to the sofa to
wait for Mulder. She'd been going over and over parts of Mrs.
Mulder's speech, but she kept coming back to one thing -- the
apparent heightened immune response both Mulder and Samantha had
shown as children. That was right in line with what she'd learned
from the Gunmen, and she now wondered if that could have been the
main purpose behind the "genetic testing program" the Mulders had
been a part of.

She was brought out of her reverie when Mulder descended the
stairs. His eyes found her almost immediately, and he crossed the
room to flop onto the end of couch to her right, his left arm
stretched across the back of the cushions and his gaze intent on
her face.

She dropped her eyes from his, focusing instead on her hands where
they lay folded in her lap, and cleared her throat, a bit
uncertain about what to say. Mulder saved her the trouble.

"Wow," he said, and she glanced up to see one corner of his mouth
lifted.

She returned the expression, adding a raised eyebrow. "A bit of an
understatement, don't you think?" she countered.

Mulder chuckled softly, running one hand through his hair. "Not
exactly what I expected my mother to be saying," he said, still
staring at her. "She answered quite a few questions, but I think
she raised as many as she answered."

Scully nodded her agreement. "So I assume you want to look for the
journal?" she asked.

He looked off into the air, nodding slightly as he chewed the
inside of his cheek. "I guess Mom's house is a good place to
start," he mused. "She's got a bunch of old chests and such up in
the attic."

"So when do we leave?" Scully asked.

She saw his muscles tense as he turned back to her, his face
blank except for the warmth in his eyes. "You don't have to go,
Scully," he said, his voice carefully neutral.

She read his meaning perfectly. He wanted her to go, but he was
afraid she wouldn't. So she simply nodded. "I know," she said.
"But I want to."

He held her gaze, then relaxed and offered another half-smile.
"Then tomorrow morning," he said. "The sooner the better."

Scully nodded again. "As long as you promise to go home and get
some sleep tonight," she said, her tone a little teasing.

His smile widened. "Yes, ma'am," he said. Then he turned serious
and leaned closer to her, his eyes capturing hers as his left hand
dropped to brush against her shoulder. "Scully, I really am sorry
I didn't tell you sooner about seeing Sam," he said softly. "You
were right; I should have told you."

Scully shook her head. "It's okay, Mulder, I forgive you," she
said with a small smile. "I'm just so happy for you that you
found her."

Mulder grinned and dropped his arm to wrap around her shoulder,
pulling her into his side. "Thanks, Scully," he said, lifting his
other hand to smooth over her hair as her arms wrapped around his
waist.

They held the embrace for a moment, and then Scully shifted
slightly, moving a bit closer. Mulder's smile softened, and he
lowered his head to press a kiss on her temple. She pulled back
slightly and looked up at him as his thumb caressed the spot he'd
just kissed, and he bent again to brush his lips along her
cheekbone, her eyes fluttering shut at the contact.

He drew back, and Scully's eyes opened to meet the darkness in
his. His smile was gone, and she felt her stomach drop at the look
on his face. His thumb kept up its movement against her temple,
and she shivered as his gaze dropped to her mouth.

Scully felt herself tense, readying for flight, but she couldn't
move as his face came closer to hers.

"Fox?" Samantha's voice cut through the air around them, and
Mulder jumped back, breaking their embrace. Their gaze held, and
the sound of their ragged breathing filled their ears.

What did we almost do? Scully thought wildly, cutting her eyes
away and looking toward the stairs as Samantha came into view. She
could still feel Mulder's eyes on her as his sister spoke again.

"Oh, there you are," Samantha said, then stopped a few feet from
the sofa, her eyes moving back and forth between the partners.
"I ... I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean to interrupt ..."

"No, it's okay," Scully said, rising to her feet. "I need to be
going anyway. It's late."

Mulder didn't move for a moment, then started to stand as he
spoke. "Yeah, and we're going up to Mom's tomorrow to look for
that journal," he said. "I'll probably come by in the morning
before we leave."

Samantha looked at them again, then nodded her agreement. "Okay,
Fox," she said. "I'll see you for breakfast, then?"

Mulder smiled at her, reaching out one hand to touch her shoulder.
"I'll be here," he said, pulling her into a light hug.


=======================
Chapter Ten: Opening Up 
=======================

Annapolis, Maryland
Tuesday, May 26, 1998
6:12 p.m.

Mulder and Scully had been quiet during the 30-minute drive to her
apartment, speaking only briefly about the case and their planned
trip to Greenwich the next day.

But when Mulder pulled up in front of Scully's apartment building,
he turned off the car and turned toward her. "Scully," he started.

"Mulder," she interrupted, holding up a hand. "I'm not up for this
right now, and I need to call Mom and tell her what's going on."
Her eyes pleaded with him to let it drop.

Mulder held her gaze, then nodded reluctantly. "All right," he
said, his look sending a clear message -- but we're going to talk
about this soon.

Scully dropped her gaze to her hands, then looked back up at him.
"See you in the morning," she said, then climbed from the car and
headed up the walkway.

Mulder watched her until she was inside, then restarted the car
and headed for Alexandria.

==========

Once inside, Scully took a moment to calm her nerves before
picking up the phone to call her mother.

"Hello?" Mrs. Scully answered.

"Hi, Mom," Scully said. "I just got home and I wanted to tell you
what's going on."

"Hi, honey," Mrs. Scully said. "I was just about to make some
dinner. Why don't you come eat with me, and you can tell me
everything."

Everything, Scully thought. I don't know about that. Out loud,
she said, "Sure, Mom, just let me change clothes. I should be
there in about 20 minutes."

"See you then, Dana," Mrs. Scully said, and they ended the call.

==========
Home of Margaret Scully
Baltimore, Maryland
7:02 p.m.

Scully helped her mother finish a quick meal of pasta and salad,
and the two women ate as Scully explained about the planned trip
to Greenwich the next day. She avoided mentioning the embrace with
Mulder, but her mother could tell there was more going on.

When Scully finished, Mrs. Scully put down her fork and reached
out to touch her daughter's hand. "What else happened, Dana?" she
said softly.

Scully looked down at her plate, idly twirling linguine around her
fork. "It's nothing, Mom, really," she said.

Mrs. Scully smiled. "It's something, Dana," she said. "Did you ...
did something happen between you and Fox?"

Scully's eyes flew up to latch onto her mother's understanding
gaze, and she knew she was caught. Sighing, she returned to her
contemplation of her food as she spoke.

"I don't know what happened, Mom," she said. "We were talking
about going to Greenwich, and then Mulder apologized again for
not telling me about finding Samantha. We hugged, and then ..."
Her voice trailed off.

Mrs. Scully leaned forward, then lifted her daughter's chin with
her hand. "And then?" she repeated, her gaze probing.

Scully looked away again. "Nothing happened, Mom," she said. "But
he ... I think he was about to kiss me. But Samantha came in, and
he pulled away."

Mrs. Scully smiled. "And you wish he had ... followed through?"

Scully looked up again, her expression a mixture of confusion and
longing. "I ... I don't know, Mom," she whispered, tears
threatening at the edges of her eyes. "I ... I wanted him to, I
really did. But I don't know if we should."

Mrs. Scully's eyes softened, and she reached out to wrap both her
hands around one of Scully's where it sat on the table. "Dana,
don't you think you should your heart for a change?" she said
earnestly. "You've always been led by your mind, but I think it's
time you listened to your instincts."

Scully lifted one corner of her mouth. "Now you sound like Missy,"
she said.

Mrs. Scully returned the half-smile, squeezing Scully's hand
before releasing it. "She was a wise woman, your sister," she
said, and Scully held her gaze for a moment before nodding her
agreement.

==========
Mulder's apartment
7:15 p.m.

When Mulder reached his apartment, a bag of takeout Chinese in
his hand, he had a bevy of messages on his answering machine. He
started them playing while he spread his feast on the coffee
table -- mostly telemarketers, a message from "Chantal" (<gotta
get them to stop calling,> he thought), and then ...

<beep> "Fox, this is Samantha. Please call when you get home. I
need ... there's something I need to tell you about."

It took him all of three seconds to grab the phone and punch in
the numbers.

"Hello?" Rick answered at the safe house.

"Rick, this is ... Fox," Mulder said. "Samantha left a message
for me to call?"

"Yeah, hold on," Rick said, and Mulder could hear him calling
Samantha to the phone.

A few moments passed, and then she said, "Fox?"

"Yeah," Mulder said. "What's wrong, Samantha?"

She sighed. "Nothing's wrong, Fox. But I called home to get our
messages, and we had one ... there was one from my ... that man."

Mulder felt the anger rising. "What did he say?" he ground out
through clenched teeth.

"He said, 'Make him happy, little one,'" Samantha answered, her
voice quavering. "That was what he called me, when I was younger.
And we got ... one of the agents brought by our mail just after
you left, and there was a note from him, stuck in with the mail.
It said, 'You're safe at home, I promise you that,' and he signed
it ..." she paused. "He signed it, 'Dad.'"

Mulder ran his free hand through his hair, his stomach turning as
he thought. "I don't know, Samantha," he said. "He could just be
trying to get you to go home so they can try to take you again."

"I don't think so, Fox," Samantha answered. "I just think ... I
have a feeling that he means it."

Mulder blew out a breath. "Well, let's not do anything tonight,
Sam," he said. "I'll be there first thing in the morning, and
we'll talk about it then."

"Okay, Fox," Samantha answered. She paused again, then said, "I
wanted to tell you, Fox, that I think Agent Scully is a wonderful
woman. I'm glad you have her."

Mulder was taken aback at the sudden change in subject, but he
responded automatically. "So am I," he said. "But ..."

"But you want more, right?" Samantha finished.

Mulder was even more surprised. "Am I that transparent?" he asked.

"Not really," Samantha answered. "But you don't have to be psychic
to see the love between the two of you."

Mulder laughed nervously, running his hand through his hair again.
"You sound like Scully's sister," he said, shaking his head.

Samantha laughed softly. "Tell me about her," she said.

"About Scully?"

"Yes," Samantha answered. "She's a large part of your life, and 
I want to know about your life. To start with, why do you call 
her Scully instead of Dana?"

Mulder leaned back against the sofa and closed his eyes, his
rapidly cooling dinner forgotten as he pictured Scully, fresh-
faced and earnest, as she was when she first walked into his
basement office. He smiled again. "Well, to start with, it was
because I didn't trust her," he said. "She was assigned to work
with me on the X-files five years ago, and I thought she was a
spy. It took a long time for me to trust her, to *really* trust
her, and by then, using last names was a habit. And after even
longer ... well, they started to feel almost like ... pet names,
I guess." He was blushing by the time he finished, glad he was
alone in his apartment.

Samantha laughed again. "You can't exactly use 'sweetheart' in
public, can you?" she teased.

Her comment drew another short chuckle from Mulder. "No," he said,
shaking his head ruefully. "I don't think that would go over well
on a case -- 'pass me that autopsy report, sweetheart.'" He
paused, then continued, "She's only called me 'Fox' once, and I
told her then to call me 'Mulder,' that I hated my first name. But
that wasn't really the truth. I don't like the name, but I was
already exhausted when she said it and my defenses were down. It
was all I could do to keep my hands off her." He smiled again, not
quite believing he was pouring all this out to his sister, over
the phone. "It was too dangerous then," he said, "and it's only
gotten more dangerous since." His smile faded at those words.

Samantha's voice dropped to near a whisper as she responded. "You
should tell her, Fox," she said.

Mulder froze, then let his eyes drift shut. "I know," he murmured.
"I know."

==========
Safe house
Somewhere in Northern Virginia
Wednesday, May 27, 1998
7:23 a.m.

Samantha had breakfast ready when Mulder arrived, and she set up
the children to eat in the next room so she, Rick, and Mulder
could discuss the possibility of moving the family back home.
They let Mrs. Mulder sleep a bit longer.

"I don't know, Sam," Mulder said. "We can't trust anything that
man says."

"I know," Samantha said. "But I'd really like to be at home, Fox.
We can put in alarms, have guards, whatever you think is
necessary. But I want to be home, and I know the children do,
too."

Rick nodded his agreement. "I'm going back to work tomorrow, no
matter what," he said. "I've stayed away too long as it is."

Mulder nodded slowly. "What about the kids?" he said. "They'll
need to stay inside for a while."

"That's not a problem," Samantha said. "They're out of school,
and I can keep them at home for at least a few days."

Mulder nodded again. "Well ... I guess it'll be okay, if we put
in an alarm system and keep the guards on," he said. "But we may
need to move you again if anything changes."

Samantha smiled. "We'll be fine, Fox, really," she said. "We'll
be careful."

Mulder was still reluctant but out of arguments -- for once. They
agreed to move the family the following day, and Mulder left to
pick up Scully.

==========
Scully's apartment
Annapolis, Maryland
8:53 a.m.

Scully was a bit surprised to hear a knock at her door just before
nine -- Mulder? Early? -- but then she realized this was an
unusual situation. He's anxious to get up there and find out
what's in that journal, she thought, crossing the floor to let
him in.

As the door swung wide and he came into view, she felt a familiar
flutter deep inside, but somehow richer than before. She supposed
it was their interrupted ... *conversation* the day before; she
couldn't quite get her mind away from it.

"Morning, Scully," Mulder said, grinning at her as he stepped in,
a white paper bag in his hand. "Coffee and a bagel, fresh from
the corner bakery." He stepped over to the table as he spoke,
setting down the bag and dipping inside to extract her breakfast
and his own cup of coffee.

"Great, Mulder, thanks," Scully said, stepping into the kitchen
for creamer and sugar. When she returned, Mulder was watching her,
and she recognized the look in his eyes. He was about to broach
the very subject she was hoping to put off a little longer.

So she jumped in before he could. "Did you talk to your mom this
morning?" she asked quickly, setting the sugar down in front of
him before settling into the chair across from him and reaching
for her coffee and bagel.

Mulder paused, then reached for the sugar bowl with a tiny nod,
his eyes still on her. <All right, it'll wait,> he told her
silently. Out loud, he said, "Actually, Mom was still asleep when
I left the house, but I was thinking we could call her from here
before we left, or just wait until we get up there."

Scully bit off a piece of bagel and chewed thoughtfully. "Well,
it'll only take us a couple of hours to get there, so why don't
we wait and call from Greenwich?"

Mulder nodded his agreement as he stirred the sugar into his
coffee. "Yeah, that's what I thought, too," he said, lifting the
Styrofoam cup to take a sip.

They lapsed into silence again, but Scully was still concerned
about what he might say next. So she fished around for another
topic. "Did, uh, you and Samantha get a chance to talk again?"
she asked, her eyes darting nervously from her food to his face,
then back.

Mulder smiled softly at her above his cup. "It's okay, Scully,"
he said gently. "I'm on my best behavior now."

She felt herself blush and quickly stood up from her seat,
grabbing the creamer and sugar bowl, and the remains of her bagel,
and turned toward the kitchen to cover her embarrassment. But
Mulder shot out a hand before she could get away, touching the
back of her hand where it gripped the jar of creamer.

Unconsciously bracing herself, she looked back at him. His eyes
were soft but guarded, just enough that she could tell he was
holding back. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, and he
murmured, "Whenever you're ready."

She continued to stare into his eyes, then nodded quickly and
broke away, escaping into the kitchen.


========================
Chapter 11: Breakthrough
========================

Home of Teena Mulder
Greenwich, Connecticut
Wednesday, May 27, 1998
11:51 a.m.

Mulder pushed open the door and stepped into the attic of his
mother's house, a large, open room covering about half the width
of the structure. The floor was cluttered with boxes, a few old
footlockers and chests, various pieces of furniture, and some old
toys.

He heard Scully sigh behind him and turned toward her. She was
scanning the contents of the room, her eyes wistful. Softly, she
said, "It reminds me of my grandmother's house."

Mulder smiled. "Good memories?" he asked.

Her eyes landed on his, and she returned the smile. "The best,"
she said, stepping further into the room. Her gaze dipped to a
battered chest of drawers sitting near her, and she reached out
one hand to run her fingertips along the dust-covered surface.
"She had three or four old bureaus and chests full of clothes,
and Missy and I would spend hours playing dress-up. We must have
been, I don't know, 7 and 8 years old." She looked back up at
him, a soft smile still on her face. "I was a tomboy, but I still
loved to play in the attic."

As she spoke, Mulder couldn't stop staring at her. The idea of
watching her so closely wasn't new; he often caught himself
looking at her when there really wasn't any reason. But seeing her
here, her honeyed hair aglow in the filtered sunlight, her eyes
sparkling with childhood memories ... he thought nothing could
make him look away.

Well, nothing except maybe her. Almost as if she knew he was
transfixed, she turned away, breaking the spell.

Looking around the room, she moved toward a large, round-topped
chest against the front wall, just below the high window which let
in the sunlight. "This looks like a good prospect," she said, back
to the businesslike tone she donned whenever they had a job to do.

Shaking his head at himself, his mouth lifting into a wry smile,
he followed her. Together, they moved the chest a few inches
further away from the wall to give them room to lift the heavy
lid. That done, they settled on the floor at opposite ends and
began going through the contents.

They worked silently but quickly, and barely fifteen minutes
later, Scully lifted a tattered scrapbook from the chest and saw
a small leather-bound book sitting beneath it. "Mulder," she
whispered.

He looked up at her from the photo album he'd just pulled from the
chest, and saw her eyes directed down. He followed her gaze to
land on the small book, and he moved toward her slowly, coming to
his knees beside her as she set the scrapbook down to one side.

Carefully, Mulder reached in and lifted the book, feeling the dry
leather crackle under his fingers. He sat back on his heels,
bringing the book with him, and just stared at it for a moment.

Scully watched him, then softly cleared her throat. "Mulder," she
said gently. "We're not sure yet that it's the right one."

He glanced at her, then nodded once and turned back to the
journal. Slowly, he pulled back the cover and turned to the first
page. Out loud, he read, "Journal of Teena Mulder, 1961. There's no
ending date listed." He looked back at Scully. "This is it," he
said.

They didn't move for a moment, and then Mulder pushed himself to
his feet and stepped over to the chest of drawers near the door,
laying the journal on top of it. Turning back, he met Scully's
quizzical look and crooked a wry smile. "I don't think I'm ready
to dive in right this second," he said by way of explanation.

She smiled briefly. "So what, then?" she said.

He shrugged. "Put back all the other stuff we pulled out, I
guess," he said, crossing back to the chest and looking down at
the assortment of books and memorabilia they'd unearthed in their
brief search for the journal.

Scully followed his gaze. "I guess cleaning up after ourselves
*would* be a good idea," she said. She reached across to grab the
photo album Mulder had been looking at when she found the journal.
"What was so interesting in this, anyway?" she asked, pulling the
book onto her lap and opening the cover.

"Scully ..." Mulder started to protest, reaching for the album.

But it was too late.

The album was filled with baby pictures.

Of Mulder.

Scully stared at the photographs, starting with the early black-
and-whites of a tiny baby in its mother's arms to the later color
shots of a little boy playing with blocks and toddling across the
floor.

An exasperated sigh came from her partner, and she realized he was
mortally embarrassed. She felt a giggle rising up and tried to
stifle it, but wasn't completely successful. Her face twitched
with the effort, and she chanced a look up at him from under her
eyelashes.

"That does it," he growled, fairly diving for the album.

Scully let out a half-shriek and pulled the book close against her
chest, trying to fight him off one-handed. "Mulder!" she gasped
through her laughter, as he grabbed her wrist and pushed her back.

She landed on her back on the floor, the album slipping to one
side as she fell back. She grabbed at it, but Mulder was too
quick, shoving it away and latching onto her other wrist, drawing
her arms above her head and pinning her to the floor.

"Oh, you think that's *funny*, do you?" he demanded, shifting so
his knees rested on the floor on either side of her thighs. She
wriggled her hips, trying to get a leg up to push him away, and
he brought his knees in, capturing her legs between his.

"Laugh at me, will you?" he said, trying to keep the stern tone in
his voice, though he was fighting off a case of the chuckles by
then himself. Scully could only nod helplessly, still trying to
hold back her giggles.

Then Mulder froze, and before either of them quite realized what
was happening -- and before Scully could react -- Mulder bent his
head down and kissed her.

==========
12:22 p.m.

Scully was shocked, at first, but couldn't help her response. She
kissed him back, lifting her head from the floor to meet him, and
Mulder gradually released her wrists, moving his hands to cup her
face and deepen the kiss. Freed from their restraints, her hands
moved as well, one threading through his hair and the other
wrapping around his back.

They kissed for several minutes, then pulled away slightly, both
breathing hard.

"Mulder ..." Scully said, but he cut her off with another kiss,
and she fell back into their embrace. The wood floor was hard
against her back, and she could just imagine the layers of dust
coating their clothes. Then all thought left her mind, and she
knew only Mulder and his kiss.

Unfortunately, the dust was targeting more than just their
clothes.

Scully felt it coming and yanked her head back, turning it to one
side just in time. "Ahh-CHOO!" she sneezed, and Mulder froze above
her.

She turned her head slowly back toward him, and they stared at
each other before he softly said, "Gesundheit."

Seconds passed. Then, grins slowly spread across their faces, and
within moments they were convulsing with laughter. Mulder buried
his face against her shoulder, and she dropped her hand from his
head back onto the floor above her head as their bodies shook.

Gradually, they calmed down, and Mulder lifted his head to capture
her eyes again. Still smiling, he said, "Only us," before leaning
forward for one last peck on her mouth.

She giggled again as he pushed himself up and rolled into a
sitting position, then turned to look back down at her. Her eyes
were bright, a smile still sat on her face, her hair was mussed
and dusty, and a streak of dirt ran along one cheek.

"You're so beautiful." Mulder was as surprised as she was when the
words spilled from his mouth.

She blushed as she rose to sit up, then ran a hand through her
hair. "I'm a mess," she said, flustered.

"No," Mulder said, leaning forward to cup her cheek and brushing
away the dirty streak with his thumb. "You're always beautiful to
me."

Scully searched his eyes, then dropped her head, allowing her hair
to fall as a curtain across her face. Mulder let his hand fall
away, still watching her, then carefully shoved himself to his
feet, brushing dust from his jeans and shirt. He then offered his
hand to her, and she hesitated only a moment before taking it and
climbing up herself.

They stared at each other again for a few moments. Then Scully
looked away, turning to pick up the journal from the chest where
he'd placed it. "Well, let's go see if we can get a little cleaned
up, and then see what this journal has to say."

She turned toward the doorway, but Mulder put out a hand and
gently grasped her upper arm. "Scully," he said. "We still need
to talk."

She looked back at him, her eyes as carefully guarded as he'd
ever seen them. "I know, Mulder," she replied. "But now's not
the time."

He held her gaze, then nodded slowly and let go of her arm. She
turned back and started through the door, and, after watching her
for a moment, Mulder followed.

==========
12:47 p.m.

After a quick clean-up to remove the worst of the dust and grime,
Mulder had moved to the living room and Scully to the kitchen.
Mulder had offered to tackle lunch, but Scully told him,
teasingly, that she didn't quite trust him to cook.

"Cook?" he said. "I thought you were making sandwiches!"

"Okay, so I don't quite trust you to slap ham and cheese between
bread," she said, smiling broadly to be sure he knew she was
kidding. "Just don't argue with me Mulder. Get in there and start
reading." Her smiled softened. "I know it's not going to be easy,
but I want to know what's in there as much as you do."

The brief conversation had eased some of the tension between them,
and Mulder was now going through his mother's journal, reading
bits and pieces of the entries as he went. The journal started,
he discovered, the day after Mrs. Mulder learned she was expecting
her first child.

"April 7, 1961

"Yesterday Bill and I received marvelous news from the doctor.
I'm going to have a baby! I had suspected it for several weeks,
but it feels so wonderful to have confirmation.

"Dr. Wilson said my child will be born in October. A lovely gift
for the fall, although I do imagine the summer months will be
somewhat uncomfortable because of the heat. But I am happy to
experience even the difficulties of my condition, for the coming
rapture of seeing my beautiful child.

"I have decided to begin keeping a journal for my child. I want
him, or her, to know the joy and love I am feeling today and each
day as this baby grows within me.

"My first message for my child is simple, but will never change.
Do not forget, my child, that your mother loves you." 

Mulder found himself fighting back tears as he read. His
relationship with his mother had not been easy through the years.
Samantha's disappearance had opened a chasm between them which
was only now being bridged. But he'd always known, no matter
what happened, that she loved him and he loved her.

After all, she was his mother.

==========
1:08 p.m.

Scully had just finished replacing her sandwich supplies in the
refrigerator and was setting their meals on the kitchen table
when she heard Mulder call her name. 

Stepping into the doorway, she said, "Lunch is ready, Mulder. Is
something wrong?"

He looked up at her, and she was struck by the blend of sorrow,
wonder, and rage she saw there. "Mulder?" she repeated, her brow
furrowing with concern. "What is it?"

Mulder slowly rose and moved toward her, the journal still in his
hands. "I ... I think I found it, Scully," he said softly. He
stopped next to her, leaning in close, then pointed at the book.
"I found multiple references to a 'John McKee' who was apparently
a family friend. Mom wrote of him visiting the house frequently.
She says he was a colleague of Dad's."

Scully searched his eyes, still puzzled. "What else?"

He moved around her, toward the kitchen table, and lowered himself
into a chair. "As the entries go on, she mentions McKee more
often, but it's more and more hostile. She speaks of him 'pushing'
her and Dad, that he won't leave them alone about 'it.' But she
never says what 'it' is."

Scully seated herself at the end of the table, next to Mulder.
"What do you think it means?"

He simply stared at her. "I think it's what Mom was talking
about," he said. "I think ... " His voice trailed off, and he
placed the book on the table and flipped a few pages, then
pointed at a blank page. "The entries stop here, about two-
thirds of the way through the book. I'll read the last one."

"January 17, 1965

"Bill and I talked again last night, and we have decided we must
agree to John's demands. We can see no other way out of this
situation.

"If we had known years ago just what we were getting ourselves
into ... but we can't go back and change things. We must go along
with this plan. We cannot allow unnecessary risks to our family,
and most especially to you, Fox.

"I will not be writing again. I can no longer bear it."

January 1965. Scully realized the connection. "That's ..." she
started.

"Ten months before Sam was born," Mulder confirmed.

They could only sit there, in silence, looking at each other.

Finally, Scully spoke again. "So this John McKee ... you think he
may be Samantha's father?"

Mulder inhaled deeply. "Yeah. But there's one more thing, Scully,"
he said. She raised an eyebrow, and he went on. "She says ..." He
sighed. "About two months before the entries end, she says ...
she told John he couldn't smoke in the house any more."


=======================
Chapter Twelve: Answers
=======================

Safe house
Somewhere in Northern Virginia
Wednesday, May 27, 1998
7:12 p.m.

The driveway and curbside were crowded already when Mulder
pulled up -- Rick and Samantha's minivan, two nondescript sedans
that screamed "FBI ISSUE," and Skinner's own somewhat-nicer-than-
issue Crown Victoria.

"Hail, hail, the gang's all here," Mulder intoned as he shut down
the car, glancing at Scully to see the standard raised eyebrow in
place.

Scully allowed a small smile as she picked up the journal from the
seat between them. "Good," she said. "Maybe we'll only have to go
over everything once."

Before she could move to get out of the car, Mulder closed his
hand around her wrist, and she looked up at him apprehensively.
<Not now,> she thought.

"Scully," Mulder said softly. "I wanted to say ... thank you for
going with me. I don't ... I couldn't have done it by myself."

Relieved, Scully smiled. "You're welcome, Mulder," she said. "I
wouldn't have been anywhere else."

He held her wrist a moment longer, his thumb absently brushing
against the soft skin, then released her with a nod and a quick
smile. They climbed from the car and headed up the walkway, Scully
staying a few paces ahead to discourage Mulder from placing his
hand on the small of her back as he did so often. Her wrist was
still tingling from his touch, and she didn't think she could
handle any more contact right then.

She stopped at the door and knocked, and a few moments later
Rick opened the door and silently stepped back to allow them in.
Scully's eyes immediately moved to the living room on the right,
where she saw Skinner and Spender sitting across from Samantha and
Mrs. Mulder, talking. The group looked up as the partners walked
toward them, and Mrs. Mulder was first to speak.

"Did you ... did you find it?" she whispered.

Scully glanced down at the leather-bound volume in her hand, then
silently held it out to Mrs. Mulder, who took it carefully. She
slowly moved the cover open and read her own handwriting there,
and her eyes slowly fell shut.

Mulder moved to sit in a chair near her, watching her movements.
The room was silent, until Mrs. Mulder spoke again.

"What does it say?" she whispered.

Mulder's mouth opened and moved, but no words came out. He
snapped his mouth shut, caught his bottom lip between his teeth,
and looked pleadingly at Scully.

They'd spent the drive back hashing out what, exactly, to say
when they got back to Washington. After an hour of discussion,
theory, and near-argument, followed by fifteen minutes of dead
silence, they'd come to an agreement that Mulder would do the
talking and would say only what they'd decided was critical.

Unfortunately, his voice apparently wasn't going to cooperate.

Scully took a step forward, positioning herself equidistant
between Mulder and his mother. She took a deep breath, then
addressed Mrs. Mulder directly, but in a loud enough voice to
make it clear she was talking to the entire group.

"The journal starts in 1961, the day you found out you were
expecting Mul ... Fox," she said, casting a brief look of apology
at her partner for her use of his first name. "We haven't read
every entry carefully, but it seems to cover mainly everyday
things and regular events for nearly five years -- birthdays,
trips, holidays. And it ends in January of 1965, ten months
before Samantha was born."

She paused, glancing at Spender, before turning her attention
back to Mrs. Mulder. "From the beginning, the entries include
many mentions of a man who apparently worked with Mr. Mulder and
was a friend of the family. He visited not only the house in
Chilmark but also the beach house at Quonochontaug. The entries
gradually become more hostile toward him, and it appears he was
the person pushing you to continue with the genetics program. The
last entry states that you and your husband felt you had no
choice but to agree to his demands."

Scully paused to allow her words to sink in. Mrs. Mulder again
had tears running down her face, and Scully watched her until the
older woman looked up and nodded briefly, signaling her to go on.

She inhaled deeply again before she spoke again. "There are only
two other clues to John McKee's identity. One, the journal
describes him as going waterskiing with Mr. Mulder at
Quonochontaug." She glanced at Samantha for a second as she said
this. "And the other ..." She stopped to steel herself again, then
said, "The other comes from an entry about two months before the
journal ends -- in which you say you told John he could no longer
smoke in the house."

Silence enveloped the group as Scully finished speaking, all
considering the indications -- no proof, but plenty of
circumstantial evidence.

Then Spender cleared his throat, and everyone turned to look at
him. "I, uh, spent most of the day at my mother's house," he
started. "I found some of my mother's old journals, including one
from the mid-'60s. She ... she also talks about a 'John' and
doesn't give a last name. I assumed he was my father, but ..."
his voice trailed off. 

"He may be," Scully said, unsure whether the thought would be
reassuring to the young agent. "Do you ... how much do you
remember about your father?" she asked

Spender shrugged. "Not much, really," he said. "He wasn't home
that much when I was a kid, and Mom didn't keep any photographs
after he left. I was seven when he moved out, even though they
didn't actually divorce until I was ten. I remember he was tall,
and had a rough voice, and ..." He exhaled sharply, giving the
impression of a deflating balloon. "And he always smelled like
cigarette smoke. I don't remember seeing him smoke, but Mom may
have told him he couldn't around me. I had asthma when I was
about four for a couple of years." He looked sharply at Scully.
"But he wasn't the man who took Sam and me waterskiing that
summer," he said emphatically. "I know that."

Scully nodded slowly. "Was there anything else in the journal?"
she asked.

Spender's eyes never left hers. "I had ... apparently my mother
had two miscarriages before I was born," he said, his voice a bit
weaker. "And ... and she had a daughter, in 1966. Rebecca Lynn.
She died when she was a few days old."

At that point, Mulder finally found his voice. "So your parents
couldn't have children," he said musingly, and Scully turned to
look at him. His eyes were unfocused, directed off toward a point
somewhere in the air, and he was chewing on the inside of his
cheek. She recognized the look -- he was processing all the
information, like a computer, and would come up with a theory in
a few minutes.

Out of the corner of her eye, Scully saw Skinner shift forward as
if to speak. She shot him a warning look -- give Mulder a
minute -- and he paused before nodding almost imperceptibly.

Finally, Mulder's eyes came back into focus, landing on Scully.
She nodded her encouragement, and he began to speak.

"All this ties in with everything we've uncovered in the past,"
he started, addressing the group as a whole. "We've encountered
at least three new forms of toxins -- the branched DNA found in
Scully's and Samantha's blood; a green, acid-like substance; and
a black oil. I've been exposed to both of those, but I think the
green substance is the main focus of the tests." He paused to
allow this to soak in, then said, "I think this genetic testing
project was part of a plan to create a 'super race' that would
have heightened immunity and possibly stronger resistance to these
toxins." He glanced at Scully. "It could explain why Samantha and
I recovered relatively easily from our exposures to the toxins."

Then he turned his attention to Spender. "I also think your
parents were either a part of the program to begin with, but
could not have children on their own. When they were told to
allow another man to father their child, they agreed, because it
was apparently going to be the only way they could have a child."

Spender considered this. "And you think this 'John McKee,' whoever
he really is, was the person who fathered their child ... me," he
said.

Mulder nodded. "I think he fathered both you and Samantha as part
of the program," he said. "And I think he's the one who had
Samantha taken, to punish Mom and Dad for resisting the program."

Then Rick spoke up. "You people can't be for real," he said, and
the group looked up at him. "This sounds like some low-grade sci-
fi novel."

Samantha smiled at that. "I said the same thing, honey," she said.
Then she sobered. "But I think it's the truth. Or as close to the
truth as we can get right now."

Rick stared at his wife, then looked around the room at the
assembled group. He knew these weren't stupid people, although he
had his doubts about their sanity, and he trusted his wife and her
judgment. But he still felt the need for some concrete proof.

"All right," he said reluctantly. "But I'd still like some proof,
of any of it."

Mulder chose to respond. "I can offer proof from experience of the
toxins we're talking about," he said. "I was exposed twice, once
much more seriously, to an unidentifed green ... acid, for want of
a better word, that has caused the deaths or near-deaths of
several people. My exposures are on my medical history, and at
least two other exposures can be documented by medical personnel
at the San Diego County Children's Center and San Diego County
Hospital. The two survivors there, one of them a detective with
the San Diego police, will also back that up.

"We have also encountered people who apparently have this toxin in
their bodies, as part of their body chemistry," he went on. "A few
years ago, a woman claiming to be Samantha came to my father's
house. We later discovered that she was, in fact, a clone. Her
body contained the toxin in question."

"A clone?" Spender was incredulous. "You can't be serious."

Scully pinned him with a look. "I watched the body of this woman
disintegrate," she said. "She appeared to have the green toxin in
her body, as part of her body chemistry." She glanced back at
Mulder. "And late last year, I ... we found a little girl who had
the same toxin in her system. But she wasn't a clone. She was
human. And the toxin killed her."

Samantha turned her head toward Scully, realization in her
expression. "She was your daughter, wasn't she?" she asked.

Scully closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, and nodded. "She ... we
think she was created as a result of experiments done on me when
I was missing several years ago," she said softly.

An uncomfortable silence overcame the group, until Spender again
spoke. "Where did this toxin come from?" he asked, directing the
question at Mulder.

Mulder met his gaze. "I don't think you want to hear it," he said.
"But as a result of all we've seen, and the tests Scully and
others have conducted, I believe both the green toxin and the
black oil are extraterrestrial in origin."

Spender shook his head. "I might have known," he muttered.

"Agent Spender," Skinner barked, skewering the young man with his
eyes. "The origin of the toxins is irrelevant at this point. The
fact remains that they exist."

Spender looked at the A.D., then nodded. "All right," he said
reluctantly. "But I'd still like to know their purpose, and the
reason for this genetic testing program."

Mulder answered him. "The genetics program, as Scully said
earlier, may have been designed to produce children with a high
level of tolerance to the toxins. This would make it easier to
create clones, and hybrids, who could survive with the toxins in
their systems." Then his eyes widened, and he looked at Scully.
"Scully ..." he said. "Have you ... I think we should test your
blood for the antibodies, too."

She stared at him, and then realized what he was thinking. If
Emily was a hybrid, created with her ova ... "You don't think my
parents ..." Her forehead furrowed, from fear or disbelief, she
wasn't sure which.

"I don't know," Mulder interrupted. "I don't think so. But
considering the medical records we found in West Virginia, it
would have been easy for them to identify any children outside
the program who showed strong immune systems. Or, they could have
discovered it during your abduction. You did recover from your
exposure to the branched DNA, when no one ... almost no one
thought it was possible." He paused, then said, "Or it could have
been neither. They would need a control group for the experiments,
too."

Scully pursed her lips and nodded slowly. "So we expand our blood
tests," she said. "I'll give the ... our colleagues a sample and
have them check for the same antibodies." She glanced at Spender.
"And Agent Spender's, if he agrees."

Spender looked at her, then nodded his assent before turning his
attention back to Mulder. "I don't buy this ... alien idea," he
said. "But I can see the possibility that someone was trying to
create a 'super race.' It's certainly been tried before."

Mulder leaned forward. "And this may have been orchestrated by
some of the same men," he said firmly. "We know German scientists
were given asylum in the U.S. after World War II. And we've seen
evidence that some of those men may have been involved in this
program."

He glanced at Scully, then looked back at Spender. "We need to
find out all we can about your mother," he said. "Any information
you have, family connections, schools ... anything. The more we
find, the more chance we have of proving who your father is ...
and of finding your mother."

Spender nodded. "I can go back to her house tomorrow and finish
going through her things," he said. "And I do have some family I
can contact, although we have lost touch with most of them because
of Mom's ... illness."

Skinner broke in at this point. "I'll start the ball rolling at
the Bureau to find anything that might be helpful," he said, then
pushed himself to his feet. "Agents Mulder and Scully, may I speak
to you privately?"

Mulder and Scully glanced at each other as they stood, then
followed the A.D. into the kitchen.

Skinner turned toward them, planting his hands on his hips. "I've
been working on your reassignments, and I think I've worked out a
deal where you'll be able to remain as partners," he said. "You'll
be assigned to Violent Crimes, and you'll still be working at
headquarters."

Mulder and Scully glanced at each other, relief evident on their
faces. Then Mulder turned his attention back to the A.D. "What
about the X-files, sir?" he asked.

Skinner blew out a breath. "That I'm still working on," he said.
"The X-files division is shut down, and I can't do anything about
that, at least not right now. But I should be able to keep the
files themselves under my jurisdiction, and I may be able to
direct some of those cases your way. I can't make any promises."

Skinner then looked at Mulder. "Agent Mulder, I had a call from
Bethesda earlier this afternoon, and they said Agent Fowley's
condition is improving. She's been fighting an infection, and
they've still got her on a ventilator, but her vitals have
stabilized."

Mulder nodded, his eyes intense on his supervisor. "That's good
news," he said. "I should go by and see her. I'll do that on
Friday, since we'll be helping Samantha move back home tomorrow."

Scully tried not to react to Mulder's words but realized she
hadn't controlled herself entirely when Skinner flashed her a
look before speaking again. "I'll see the two of you soon,"
Skinner said, nodding at them before leaving.


=====================
Chapter 13: Avoidance
=====================

Safe house
Somewhere in Northern Virginia
Thursday, May 28, 1998
10:33 a.m.

Mulder carried another pair of suitcases to the Carsons' minivan
as his sister and his partner continued to pack the family's
belongings. The children were safely ensconced in front of the
television, glued to the video of "Babe" Scully had brought from
home.

As Mulder came back through the kitchen, Scully could feel his
gaze on her back but carefully ignored it. He'd been staring at
her every time they were in the same room for the entire hour-
and-a-half since she'd arrived, but she didn't want to confront
the issue at this point.

Scully placed a last few items in the cardboard box sitting on
the counter in front of her and slowly lifted the box into her
arms. She turned toward the door and nearly ran into her partner,
who immediately reached for the box.

"I can get it, Mulder," she insisted as he took the box.

"I know," he said amicably, shooting her his best boyish grin.
"But I'm no good at packing, so I'm doing the carrying. 'K?"

She couldn't help but return the smile as she turned back to her
packing. She again felt him watching her and was just about to
shoot him a "drop dead" look when he turned and headed back down
the hall toward the front door.

A few minutes passed, and Samantha walked back into the kitchen
carrying an overnight bag in each hand and another over her
shoulder. "I didn't realize how much we'd brought," she said, a
bit wearily. "As much as I'll be glad to be home, I'm beginning
to dread unpacking all this." She dropped the bags near the door
to the hall and flopped into a chair at the kitchen table.

Scully half-smiled as she continued loading another box. "Well,
at least you have free help," she said. "Mulder sure can come in
handy in that respect."

"You talkin' about me behind my back again?" Mulder's voice came
from the doorway, and Scully looked almost guilty as she turned
her head toward him. But his grin was either still in place or
back, and she relaxed.

"Yeah, you know, Mulder, I have to get my shots in when I can,"
she retorted, turning back to the cabinets.

Mulder stepped across and sat down next to Samantha, still
watching Scully. Finally, he turned to his sister, nodding
toward the bags at the doorway. "That the last of it?" he asked.

Samantha nodded. "Thank goodness," she said. "I'm already
exhausted. I was just telling Dana I'm starting to dread
unpacking at home."

Mulder chuckled. "So *that's* what the free help comment was
about!" he exclaimed, shooting a jokingly accusing look at
Scully, who returned with another half-smile.

Scully turned fully to look at her partner and his sister and was
struck once again by the dream-turned-reality she saw. It's her;
it really is, she thought, momentarily bypassing her nagging need
for proof. Her heart swelled with joy for her partner, best
friend, and ... well, she'd worry about the rest later.

Just then, Mulder shoved himself back to his feet. "Well,
brotherly duty calls," he said lightly. "Let me get these in the
van, and we'll get out of here."

Samantha smiled up at him. "Thank you, Fox," she said. "For
everything."

Mulder stared at his sister for a moment, then reached out a hand
to squeeze her shoulder. "Believe me, Sam, it's my pleasure," he
said. He held on for another moment, then turned to pick up the
bags and head for the front door.

Samantha and Scully both watched him go, then swiveled their
heads back to face each other. A thread of kinship flowed between
them, as each read pure love written on the other's face.

They smiled at each other before going back to their tasks.

==========
Home of Rick and Samantha Carson
Gaithersburg, Maryland
12:02 p.m.

The whole process was going on in reverse, with Mulder bringing
bags and boxes in while Scully and Samantha unpacked. The kids had
been dispatched to their own rooms with their suitcases, to unload
their belongings and get re-acquainted with the toys they'd had to
leave behind.

"Fox?" Samantha called, stepping into the front doorway as Mulder
headed back to the car for another load. He turned to look at her,
and she smiled. "Could you get the kitchen boxes next? I'm going
to make us some lunch."

He smiled. "Sure thing," he said, turning back toward the minivan.

Samantha watched him walking away, then sighed and turned to go
back into the kitchen. There, she found Scully standing at the
back wall, studying the grouping of family pictures hanging there.

Samantha hesitated, then walked across the room and stopped
beside Scully. The two women silently looked at the photos, until
Samantha said, "I didn't even have a picture of him, you know."

Scully turned her head to look at Samantha, then dropped her eyes
and smiled, nodding. "He's kept one of you on his desk, at least
all the time I've known him," she said. "He had one of the two of
you, together, that he kept in his apartment." She paused, then
turned to face the other woman fully. "He never gave up," she said
softly. "Not even ..." She swallowed, then went on, "Not even when
he was the only one who believed he'd find you."

Samantha looked down, tears beginning to slide down her face. "I
know," she said. "I knew it the moment I saw him last fall." She
lifted one hand to wipe away the moisture on her cheeks, then
looked back over at Scully and said, "I thought he was dead.
Dad -- that man -- told me Fox was dead. But ... but he knew where
he was the whole time, didn't he?"

Scully reached out a hand and placed it on Samantha's arm. "I
think he did," she said gently. "He's know for at least five
years. He ... he was there when I was sent to work with Mulder.
He was in the room when I was told about the assignment. I think
he orchestrated the whole thing, although I still don't really
know why."

Samantha's eyes closed against Scully's words, but her tears had
dried up. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest and
lowered her head, shivering.

Scully didn't know what to say, but Mulder's entrance with
another box forestalled the need. "Lunch has arrived," he
proclaimed, then paused as he caught sight of the two women
huddled against the far wall. Lowering the box onto the counter,
he moved quickly toward them. "Scully? Sam? Is everything okay?"

Samantha nodded once, quickly, before straightening and opening
her eyes. "It's okay, Fox," she said, her voice stronger than
Scully had expected. "Just a little emotional today, I guess."

Scully managed to smile at him. "We're fine, Mulder, really."

Mulder seemed about to challenge their responses, then stopped
himself and made a visible effort to relax. "Okay," he said,
still watching them.

Samantha moved past him to the box he'd brought in and reached in
to start unpacking. Mulder followed her with his eyes, but
remained standing near Scully. After a few moments, he turned
back to look at Scully and said, "I'm going to double-check the
new alarm system before lunch, unless you need any help."

Scully shook her head. "Go ahead, we've got it under control,"
she said, and he studied her face briefly before nodding sharply
and turning back toward Samantha. He watched his sister again,
then moved toward the door and headed back down the hall to the
front of the house.

Scully took a deep breath as he left, then stepped over to help
Samantha with lunch.

==========
Georgetown
1:53 p.m.

After making a stop by the Bureau to get the new blood samples to
take to the Gunmen, Mulder and Scully rode in a somewhat
uncomfortable silence toward her house. Both were tired from
helping Samantha's family move, but it was the tension remaining
between them that kept them silent.

Finally, as soon as the car had rolled to a stop in front of her
building, Mulder turned toward Scully. "Scully, we have to talk
about this," he said.

She nodded, her eyes on her hands where they lay twisted around
each other in her lap, her hair falling as a curtain in front of
her face. "I know," she said. "But I can't, not now." She looked
up at him. "I'm sorry. Soon, I promise."

Mulder looked like he was about to protest again, the muscles
playing along his jaw as he clenched his teeth. He jerked a quick
nod. "I'm holding you to that," he said in a tight voice, forcing
a stiff half-smile.

Scully didn't return the smile but held his gaze a few more
moments before leaving the car and heading up the walkway toward
the building.

==========
Mulder's apartment
3:36 p.m.

Feeling a bit better after a shower, Mulder flopped down on his
couch and flicked on the TV, trying to clear his mind by finding
some brainless game show or infomercial for background noise.
Ah, QVC, he thought, turning the volume to a low murmur and
dropping the remote on the coffee table. He stretched out on the
cushions, pulling a pillow behind his head and folding his hands
over his stomach.

Now, if I can only get my eyes to close ... he thought.

He stared at the ceiling, his gaze running across the long-ago
memorized pattern of slats and cracks, but he wasn't seeing them.
He was seeing glowing hair, ivory skin, full red lips, and dark,
dark, blue-green eyes.

He sighed, forcing his eyes shut, but that only brought the
picture into clearer focus. Scully below him, laughing, her hair
brushing against the hardwood floor as she tried to escape his
teasing hold. Her eyes sparkled in the half-light, dust motes
floating around them as they playfully wrestled.

Her cupid's-bow mouth, begging to be kissed ...

Mulder groaned, exasperated, and opened his eyes as he pushed
himself up to sit on the edge of the cushions, his whole body
throbbing with the memory. This is not going to work, he
thought, and instead grabbed for the phone.

"Lone Gunmen."

Mulder heard the distinctive clicking sound on the line and said,
"Frohike, don't you guys have Caller ID yet?"

"Mulder!" Frohike exclaimed. "Hold on a sec ..." A few keystrokes
sounded, and Frohike went on, "All shut down, man. What's up?"

"Got a favor to ask," Mulder said. "I need you to find out all you
can about Jeffery Spender and his mother, Cassandra. He's an FBI
agent, and she was the mysterious 'Patient X' Dr. Werber was
working with."

"Oh, yeah, the one who disappeared from that bridge?" Frohike
said.

"Yeah, apparently so," Mulder answered. "And also, anything you
have on any old X-files, anything that might help us put some of
them back together. Especially ... well, you know which ones are
the most critical."

"Yeah, we know," Frohike said. "It's funny, Agent Scully didn't
mention any of that when she came by."

Mulder's eyes widened. "Scully was there?" he asked.

A pause, then Frohike said, "Yeah, man, she brought by some more
blood samples about a half-hour ago. Figured you knew she was
coming."

Mulder sighed. "Yeah, but I didn't know she was going so soon,"
he said. "We haven't ... well, we didn't talk much today."

"Oh," Frohike said, his complete lack of understanding evident in
his voice. He paused, then said, "Hey, Mulder, how's Diana doing?"

Mulder leaned back against the couch and stared back up at the
ceiling as he answered. "She's still unconscious, but improving,
according to Skinner," he said. "I'm going by in the morning to
see her."

"You are?" Frohike said in a surprised tone.

"Yeah," Mulder said, puzzled. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, I thought because Scully ..." Frohike's voice trailed off.

"Because Scully what?" Mulder asked, instantly on alert.

Frohike didn't answer immediately, and Mulder got the feeling the
Gunman had let something slip. "Frohike ..." Mulder threatened.

Frohike sighed in resignation. "When Scully came by last week,
she ... she asked about Diana. Asked who she was. She was pretty
upset, from what I could see."

Mulder's eyes closed as realization began to dawn. "What did you
tell her?" he asked carefully.

"We said ... well, I told her you two were an item after you got
out of the academy, and Langly said you were working together when
you discovered the X-files. Just the truth, man. We were kind of
surprised you hadn't told her already."

And Mulder understood.

Scully was jealous.

He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "That explains a lot," he
murmured under his breath.

"Huh?" Frohike said, and Mulder remembered he was still on the
phone.

"Thanks, Frohike," he said. "I'll check back in soon."

Mulder hung up the phone and just sat, thinking back over the past
week. Scully had seemed unusually tense during the Gibson Praise
case, but Mulder had been so wrapped up in the developments, and
in the shock of seeing Diana again, that he hadn't seen what was
really going on.

Scully was jealous of Diana. Which also explained her reaction
when he said he was going to visit the injured agent in the
hospital.

Well, he thought. I guess that's just one more thing we're
going to have to talk about.


=====================
Chapter 14: Moving On
=====================

Scully's apartment
Friday, May 29, 1998
9:12 a.m.

Dana Scully was restless, and she didn't like the feeling. She
hadn't slept well, having a horrible time getting the jumble of
thoughts in her mind to shut down for long. So she got up early,
and was now spending entirely too much time straightening up her
apartment.

Finally, she realized she had been polishing the same spot on her
already spanking-clean dining room table for nearly five minutes,
and she flopped down on a chair in exasperation. "What is *wrong*
with me?" she muttered, shaking her head as though to dispel a
decade's worth of cobwebs.

Or maybe just five years' worth.

Sighing, she pushed herself back to her feet, leaving the dustrag
and polish on the table. She headed straight for the door,
grabbing her purse as she went.

==========
Home of Margaret Scully
Baltimore, Maryland
9:53 a.m.

Margaret Scully was unsurprised to see her daughter's car pulling
up to the curb in front of the house. After the tumultuous events
of the past weeks, she knew Dana had a lot to sort through -- most
important being her feelings for her partner. Mrs. Scully knew
Dana had few close friends other than Mulder, and she was more
than happy to be a sounding board for her daughter.

Mrs. Scully moved to open the door as Scully reached the porch,
flashing her daughter a smile. "Good morning, Dana," she said,
reaching to give her a quick hug. "How are you?"

Scully returned the embrace, holding on a bit longer than usual as
she gave her standard response. "I'm fine, Mom," she said, pulling
back. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" she asked.

"No, honey, not at all," Mrs. Scully said, stepping back to let
Scully in. "Come on in."

Mrs. Scully led the way to the kitchen and insisted Scully sit at
the table and let her make tea for them both. She pulled out her
kettle and began filling it at the sink as she made idle chatter,
talking about the weather and the phone call she'd had from Bill
Junior the night before.

When the kettle was on, though, she moved to sit across the table
from her daughter, regarding her seriously. "Something's bothering
you, Dana," she said gently. "Is it Fox?"

Scully kept her eyes trained on her hand, which was nervously
plucking at the edge of the placemat lying on the table in front
of her. But she nodded. "I just don't know what to do, Mom," she
whispered.

Mrs. Scully laid her hand over her daughter's and waited until she
lifted her face to look at her. Then, she said, "What happened,
honey?"

Scully slowly closed her eyes and took at deep breath, and Mrs.
Scully squeezed her hand in reassurance.

"He kissed me, Mom," Scully finally said. "When we were at his
Mom's the other day. And I ... I didn't know what to do. I *don't*
know what to do."

When her eyes reopened, they were glistening with moisture, and
Mrs. Scully brought her other hand up to wrap around Scully's. She
waited for Scully to go on, then said, "What do you want to do,
honey?"

Scully's eyes darted away from her mother's probing gaze. "I ... I
don't know," she said, her voice cracking.

Mrs. Scully leaned closer. "Do you love him, Dana?" she asked
softly.

At this, a single tear escaped Scully's eye and rolled down her
cheek. "Yes," she said. "I do. Of course I do. But ... I don't
know if it's ... if I'm in love with him. And I don't know if I
should be."

Mrs. Scully smiled. "Let me tell you a secret, honey," she said in
a conspiratorial tone. When Scully looked at her, she went on. "Fox
loves you, too. And I think he's been in love with you for a long
time."

Scully's eyes closed again. "I ... we can't, Mom," she said
convulsively.

Before Mrs. Scully could respond, the teakettle shrilled, and she
gave Scully's hand one last squeeze before rising to finish making
the tea. As she worked, she could hear Scully struggling to get
her control back, and without looking away from her preparations,
she gave one last comment.

"Don't give up on him, Dana," she said. "You've gone through a lot
together. Don't let your love become an obstacle instead of a
blessing."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Scully smile.

==========
Bethesda Naval Hospital
Bethesda, Maryland
10:12 a.m.

Mulder carefully pushed open the door and stepped into the stark
white hospital room, visions of what seemed like hundreds of
similar visits flashing through his mind.

But this time, the sight of the woman in the bed evoked none of
the gut-wrenching emotions brought forth by the women he'd faced
in this condition previously. For while Diana Fowley had once been
an important part of his life, she was now simply a memory,
another part of his past.

The strongest feeling Mulder had was relief -- that it wasn't
Scully in the bed. He was a bit ashamed at the thought, but he
wouldn't let it go. He'd had more than enough of seeing his
partner in hospital beds.

Mulder moved to the side of the bed, his eyes running over the
face of the stricken agent, his former lover. He lowered himself
into a chair and scooted closer, lifting one hand to grasp hers.

He just sat there for a long time, watching Diana sleep and
thinking back over their years together, and the events of the
past week. He felt regret at her condition, and sorrow for her
suffering. But over it all, he couldn't help but be glad he wasn't
sitting beside Scully.

He knew then that he was truly over Diana.

And finally, he spoke.

"Diana," he said softly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you were the one
who suffered because I insisted on following through with the
case. And I'm sorry I hurt you when I said I'd done okay without
you. I never wanted any of that to happen."

He watched her for another moment, then continued. "I wanted to
tell you I don't regret our years together. They were wonderful,
for the most part, in spite of how it ended. But I ... I've moved
on, Diana. And I hope you can, too."

He paused again, then leaned closer to her. "I do have some news
for you, Diana. I ... I found Samantha. I saw her last fall,
actually, but I didn't know how to reach her again. But I know
where she is now. She's fine, Diana. She has a life, and a
family." He hesitated, then finished, "And I want to be a part of
that."

He leaned back in his seat, drawing his hand away. He didn't move
for a few minutes, but he felt as if a weight had been lifted from
his shoulders.

He sighed, then slowly rose to his feet. "Get better, Diana," he
said. "And take care."

Then he turned and left, without looking back.

==========
10:32 a.m.

Scully was on her way to the Bureau when she thought about calling
the Gunmen. She pulled out her cell phone and punched in the
numbers, then waited for the familiar answer.

"Good morning, may we help you?" Byers again, Scully thought
thankfully.

"Hi, Byers, it's Scully," she said. "I was just calling to see if you
have any new information."

"Nothing yet, Agent Scully," Byers replied. "We're running
additional tests on the blood samples, and we've sent a few of our
reports to some colleagues to get their opinions. We're
researching Jeffery and Cassandra Spender as well."

"You are?" she responded, sounding puzzled. "I didn't think I'd
mentioned that yet."

"Actually, Mulder did," Byers said, a note of surprise in his
voice. "Frohike spoke to him yesterday afternoon. I assumed you'd
talked about it."

Scully sighed. "No," she said. "I had planned to ask you to do
that today. I guess he just saved me the trouble."

Byers chuckled. "I guess so," he said. "Anyway, we'll give you a
call when he have something." He paused, then said, "Agent Scully,
have you heard about Agent Fowley?"

Scully pursed her lips before she answered. "Not since yesterday,"
she said. "She was still unconscious but apparently doing better.
Mulder's visiting her this morning."

Byers was silent at that news, and Scully forged ahead. "Well, I'm
on my way to the Bureau, so I'll check in later. Bye." She ended
the call quickly.

==========
Bethesda Naval Hospital
10:47 a.m.

Mulder strode across the hospital parking lot toward his car,
ready to head for Samantha's. As he climbed into his car, he
decided to check in with the Gunmen.

"Good morning, may we help you?" Byers' voice came through.

"Byers, it's Mulder," he said. "I was calling to check in about
that information I asked about."

Byers' chuckle was joined by Langly's in the background. "I just
finished talking to Agent Scully about ten minutes ago," Byers
said.

"You guys need to get on the same page," Langly chimed in.

Mulder smirked. "Don't I know it," he muttered under his breath.
In his normal voice, he said, "So what did you find out?"

"Nothing new yet," Byers answered. "I told Scully we'd call when
we have something, unless you'd rather we call you."

Mulder sighed. "No, that's fine, I'll be catching up with her in a
bit."

"All right," Byers said. He hesitated, then said, "Scully said you
were visiting Diana?"

"Yeah, I'm on my way back from Bethesda right now," Mulder said.

"How is she?"

"The same," Mulder said. "Still unconscious, but her vital signs
are improving. The doctors think she might wake up in another few
days."

"That's great news," Byers said.

Then Langly jumped in again. "So what's the deal with you two,
anyway?"

"Diana?" Mulder said. "Diana and I are history, guys. I've got
more important things to worry about."

He ended the call and concentrated on traffic.

==========
Office of Assistant Director Walter Skinner
J. Edgar Hoover FBI building
11:30 a.m.

Scully stepped into Skinner's outer office and smiled at Kimberly.
"Hi, Kimberly," she said. "Is he in?"

"Good morning, Agent Scully," Kimberly said, smiling. "Yes, he's
here. Go on in."

Scully moved to the inner door and rapped twice, hearing the
normal brusque "Come in" from inside. She stepped through the door
and smiled tightly at the AD.

"Agent Scully," he said, rising to his feet. "Please, come in,
have a seat."

"Thank you, sir," Scully replied, moving to sit across the desk
from him.

"I'm glad you came by, Agent Scully," Skinner said as he sat back
down. "I wanted to speak to you about the office."

Scully looked up at him, a questioning look on his face. "Sir?"
she said.

Skinner let out a breath. "As I said before, you and Mulder are
going to be reassigned, although I believe I will be able to keep
you as partners. But I would like to make sure the X-files office
is renovated and ready for the two of you to use if ... *when* the
opportunity arises."

Scully's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Renovated, sir?" she
repeated.

Skinner nodded sharply, his face stern. "I don't intend to let the
X-files die, Agent Scully," he said. "They may have burned the
office, but there's always another way."

Scully raised her chin as she inhaled, then dropped her head back
to level as she blew out the breath, nodding as she met his gaze
again. "Thank you, sir," she said. "I'm sure Agent Mulder will be
grateful. I'll tell him as soon as I see him."

Skinner held the look, then glanced down at his desk. "Was there
something else, Agent Scully?" he asked.

Scully shifted in her seat. "No, sir," she said. "I've checked on
the blood testing, and we don't have results yet. I mainly wanted
to check in with you, and to ask if you had any more information
on our assignments, but you've already answered that question."

Skinner nodded, then leaned back in his chair and slid his glasses
off before raising his eyes back to hers. "Agent Scully," he said.
"I don't know the status of your ... personal relationship with
Agent Mulder -- and frankly, I don't want to know right now. But I
feel compelled to remind you that you will be watched closely for
some time now, whether or not you remain as partners. There are
people who will be looking for any reason to get one or both of
you out of the way."

Scully knew he was right, but her pursed lips were the only
outward reaction she showed to his comment. "Thank you, sir," she
said. "I'll keep that in mind."

Skinner simply looked at her, then said, "That'll be all."

She nodded in reply, stood, and left.


===================
Chapter 15: Healing
===================

Home of Rick and Samantha Carson
Gaithersburg, Maryland
Friday, May 29, 1998
12:05 p.m.

Mulder pulled up in front of Samantha's, shut off his car, and
just sat, staring at the house. She's right there, he thought,
still amazed that his sister was finally back in his life.

Shaking himself free of his reverie, he climbed from the car and
headed up the walkway. He was about halfway there when another car
pulled up, and he turned to see Jeffery Spender climbing out of
the car.

"Agent Mulder," Spender called, walking in his direction. "May I
speak with you for a moment?"

Mulder nodded, placing his hands on his hips in an automatic
defensive stance. "What can I do for you, Agent Spender?" he said
blandly.

Spender stopped in front of him, then glanced down at his shoetops
before speaking. "I need to apologize to you, Agent Mulder," he
said. "I should have done it sooner, but I want to say I'm sorry
for the antagonism I've shown in the past."

Mulder remained silent, and Spender raised his head to meet his
gaze. "I'm afraid my mother's abduction stories have affected my
view of the whole situation," Spender said. "I still don't believe
that aliens are involved with this, but I know *something* is
going on."

At this, Mulder nodded slowly. "*Something* is going on, Spender,"
he said. "The question I have is, what do you know about it?"

Spender stiffened slightly. "I don't know any more than I've
already told you," he said tightly. "I want to find out what's
going on as much as you do. I want to find my mother."

Mulder paused, then relaxed a bit. "Apology accepted, Agent
Spender," he said. "And I apologize for being so ... abrupt. I
realize you have a personal interest in this as much as I do."

"More than I knew," Spender said, and a thread of understanding
passed between the two men.

"Fox? Jeff?" The men turned to see Samantha standing at the front
door. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Hi Sam," Mulder said. "Nothing's wrong. We were just ...
talking."

Spender smiled at her. "I just needed to speak to Agent Mulder for
a moment. I can't stay, but I'll see you soon."

He turned to Mulder, hesitated, then held out his hand. "I'm
looking forward to working with you, Agent Mulder," he said.

Mulder looked at him for a long moment, then reached out and shook
the hand. "Good talking to you, Agent Spender."

Spender turned back toward his car, and Mulder moved toward the
house. He offered Samantha a smile as he mounted the steps, and
was mildly surprised when she pulled him into a hug.

"Hi, Fox," she said. "Come on in. We were just about to sit down
to lunch."

"I don't want to impose ..." Mulder started, but Samantha cut him
off with a wave.

"Oh, Fox, you should know it's no imposition," she said. "You're
family."

Family. Mulder felt a wave of emotions build in him at the
single word, and he smiled slowly before following Samantha
toward the kitchen.

==========
Scully's apartment
1:45 p.m.

Scully looked up from her computer when she heard the knock on
her door, and she pulled off her glasses as she walked over to
look out.

Mulder, of course, she thought, releasing the latch to let him
in.

"Hey, Scully," Mulder said with a grin, stepping in as she moved
back from the doorway. He didn't speak again as she shut and
re-latched the door, and she turned to look up at him quizzically.

"Is something wrong, Mulder?" she asked.

Mulder continued to grin. "No," he said. "Why would anything be
wrong?"

Scully found herself starting to return his grin, and she turned
to walk over to the sofa. "Well, you look like the proverbial cat
who ate the canary," she said, pulling one leg under her as she
sat down. "So I know something's up."

His grin impossibly widened as he moved to sit at the opposite end
of the couch, stretching one arm along the top edge of the
cushioned back. "Just a little bit of an epiphany," he said
cryptically. "Nothing to worry about."

Before Scully could ask, Mulder went on. "I just came from Sam's,
and we're going to start easing off on the protection," he said.
"And Mom's going back home on Monday, but only long enough to make
plans to sell the house. She's going to move down here."

Scully was surprised. "That's great news," she said. "You'll have
your whole family right here."

Mulder's expression softened. "And that's just what the epiphany
was about," he said. "I have a family again."

Scully smiled in understanding. "It's been a long time, hasn't
it?" she asked gently.

Mulder nodded, his expression sobering. "It's going to take some
getting used to," he said. "I've spent so much of my life alone,
and now to have them around again ..." His voice trailed off as
his eyes squeezed shut, fighting back the tears that threatened.

Scully slid toward him on the sofa, moving her hand to lie atop
his where it sat along the back cushions. "I'm so glad, Mulder,"
she whispered. "You deserve a little happiness."

Mulder's eyes flew open and landed on hers, then twisted his hand
to intertwine their fingers. "We both do," he said. "After
everything we've been through ..." His voice trailed off as Scully
dropped her eyes from his, and he tightened his hold on her hand.
"Scully, we're going to talk about this," he said. "I may have
found Samantha, but I still want to find the answers you need.
Because I need it, too."

He moved closer to her on the sofa, reaching out his free hand to
grasp her chin and lift her face so he could see her eyes.
"Scully," he said, pausing to search her face. "I hope you know
how I feel about you."

She stared at him, then dropped her eyes. "I think so," she said,
tentatively. "And ... and I hope you know ..."

"I do," he said, moving his hand to cup her cheek. "I ... I
realized yesterday that ... that you were hurting. Because of
Diana."

He could see her face starting to close to him and shook his head
sharply. "No, don't shut me out, Scully," he pleaded. "Just
listen, please." She froze, then nodded once.

He leaned in closer. "Diana was ... a big part of my life for
several years. We had a lot in common, but that wasn't enough.
And in the end, that was what split us up, personally and
professionally. We believed in a lot of the same things, but
because of that, we didn't dig deep enough. With you, it's
different. We don't agree on our beliefs, but that helps us
complement each other. You make me work to prove my theories,
instead of just accepting them at face value."

He smiled softly. "I told Diana last week that you ... you're a
challenge to me. And you know I love a challenge."

Her eyes widened in shock, and he realized what he'd said,
indirectly. His face turned serious, and he released her hand
and brought his other hand up to cradle her face between his
palms. "Scully," he said. "I ..."

Just then, Scully's phone rang, breaking the spell. They froze,
searching each other's eyes, until Mulder lifted one corner of
his mouth. "Figures," he murmured.

Scully dropped her eyes and pulled away, reaching for the phone
on the fourth ring.

"Hello?" she said, her voice a little shaky.

"Agent Scully," Skinner said. "Is Agent Mulder with you?"

Scully's eyebrows raised slightly as she swallowed, and her gaze
flitted to Mulder briefly before falling back to the floor. "Yes,
sir," she replied, a slight question in her voice.

"Good," Skinner said. "I'm calling to tell you your new
assignments have been approved."

Her stomach tightened. "Sir?" she asked.

"You and Mulder will be assigned to Violent Crimes -- as
partners," Skinner said. "The positions are waiting for you
whenever you're ready to come back."

Scully let her breath out in relief, but Skinner went on. "As I
said before, I will continue to direct to you any cases I feel
you would have investigated under the X-files. You should also
feel free to bring other possible cases to my attention."

Scully nodded. "Thank you, sir," she said.

Skinner paused, then said, "I must warn you again, you will both
have to step carefully for some time -- professionally, and
personally as well. And your ... *alternate* cases cannot
interfere with your regular VC assignments, or you'll lose even
that right."

Scully nodded again. "Yes, sir, I understand," she said. "I will
relay that to Agent Mulder."

"Fine, Agent Scully," Skinner said. "Please let me know as soon
as possible when you will be returning to work."

"Yes, sir," Scully repeated. "Thank you, sir."

The connection was broken, and Scully set the phone down before
turning back to Mulder. He was watching her intently, the
questions in his eyes.

Scully moved back toward him, stopping a couple of feet away.
"That was Skinner," she said unnecessarily, and he nodded. "He
said we have been reassigned to Violent Crimes -- as partners."

Mulder let out a sigh of relief, his eyes closing briefly before
reopening to pin her. "The X-files?" he asked.

She sighed. "The X-files remain closed, officially," she said.
"But Skinner said he will be directing appropriate cases to us,
and that we may bring him any cases we wish to investigate.
Provided, of course, that the investigations do not interfere
with our regular VC assignments."

Mulder nodded. "That's more than I expected at this point," he
said. He looked at her thoughtfully for another moment, then
reached out to grasp her hand and pull her towards him.

She resisted. "Mulder, there's one other thing," she said. He
looked up at her quizzically, and she said, "Skinner said we
should tread lightly not just professionally ... but personally
as well."

Mulder's brow furrowed. "Does he ... did you tell ..."

"He doesn't know about what happened at your mother's," she said.
"He told me the other day that he doesn't want to know the, um,
'status of our personal relationship,' I believe is the way he put
it. But he told me we would be watched closely for some time now,
and not just on the job. We may still be partners, but if we
aren't careful -- and not just on the job -- we won't even have
that."

Mulder nodded slowly, his eyes still on her, then tugged at her
hand again, pulling her back down on the sofa next to him. She
went willingly but stayed several inches away, not looking at him.

Mulder took her other hand and turned toward her slightly before
speaking. "Scully," he said. When she still didn't look at him,
he said. "Scully, look at me."

She lifted her head, and when their eyes met he could read the
fear and longing there. He squeezed her hands, then said, "I
can't tell you how glad I am that we'll still be partners."

Scully dipped her head, then looked up at him again. "Me, too,"
she said softly, receiving a soft smile as her reward.

Mulder released one hand and moved his arm to wrap around her
shoulder, pulling her into him. "It will work out fine, Scully,"
he said into her hair. "We don't have to rush into anything. We
can take this as slowly as we need to." He paused, then said,
"But no matter what else happens, you will always be my partner.
I couldn't have anyone else."

He felt her smile against his shoulder.


========
Epilogue
========

More than 25 years ago, I dedicated my life to a quest I have held
as dear as any crusade in history. And, like so many before me,
when my quest was completed, I was left without purpose or
direction.

My sister was returned, but I was nearly lost. I had found many of
the answers about her disappearance, even if the proof was hard to
come by. My biggest questions were answered, even if it was only
to my satisfaction.

But I didn't know where to turn next. I was starting to drift.

Only one thing has held me grounded, has kept me from falling off
this earth. The same thing that guided me through the hardest days
of my quest, always by my side, always believing in me.

Scully.

She is my new Grail.

With my life's crusade at an end, I have rededicated my life to
her. Not in pursuit of her; that I need not undertake, since she
has told me, without words, that I already have her, for as long
as I want her.

And I want her forever.

Instead, I will support her as she has supported me, guide her
along her own crusade, helping her to find her own answers.

Her abduction. Her cancer. Her lost daughter.

As my search became hers, so, too, has her search become mine.

We are one.

And we remain.

==========END==========