Title: Rift 5:: Gamble (1/7)
Author: RocketMan >lebontrager@iname.com<
C0-Producer: Melissa Kennedy >scullee@email.com<
     Melissa has come up with at least half of this story line, her
insight into Scully and Grace's relationship is phenomenal, and she
deserves the credit for it.
WARNING::::This set contains extreme agnst. Do NOT read if you are
sensitive to death.
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is
intended.

NOTES:::::PLEASE READ THIS IF YOU WISH TO FOLLOW THE RIFT UNIVERSE
Due to popular opinion, I am going to keep writing in this theme. It
won't be the exact point where I left off in Refine, but roughly six
months later. This is the order in which they will go:
Gamble (1-7)
Guilt (1-7)
Grace (1-7)
Glory (1-7)

Dedication::: This set is for all of you who wrote and encouraged me
with such wonderful feedback. . .I tried to write everyone something
back about it and I hope you find this journey one to challenge your
spirit.

~~~~
Gamble
~~~~

"later i'll say
i spent my life
loving a great man

later
my life will accuse me
of various treasons. . .

will accuse me for unborn babies
and dead trees

later
when i defend again and again
with this love
my life will keep silent
listening to
my body breaking"

--"later i'll say", Lucille Clifton

~~~~

Grace watched her mother move around the kitchen, smelling the spaghetti
steam wafting in the air, fingering her shirt with a kind of nervousness.

"What is that?"

Scully turned and ruffled her hair with a smile.

"Dinner, Gracie."

Her nose wrinkled with the words and she pulled away from her mother's
hand, pushing her hands deep in her pockets.

"I don't like it when you make spaghetti. I want Daddy to make it."

Scully's smile disappeared and she shook her head.

"Daddy's not going to be home for awhile, Grace. He's got a little extra
work."

In reality, Scully had no idea where Mulder was. He had run off with a
lead, kissing her quickly with a look asking for forgiveness. But it was
something Mulder had to do, something that kept him from falling into the
problems of before.

Reigning him in, keeping his mind tethered to the simple things of family
and office had been a mistake, she knew that. They had talked, they had
argued, but things had resolved with the knowledge that Mulder needed his
escapades once in a while, needed to run off and uncover new truths.

So, she smiled to their daughter, made Grace's favorite food for dinner,
and tried to brush away the fear coursing through her.

He had promised not to take any risks, but she knew him, knew the way his
mind worked.

"Why does Daddy have to work?"

Scully looked back down to her daughter, then sighed.

"Daddy has some important things to take care of, you know, baby?"

"But I want Daddy to make me s'getti."

Scully sat down on the floor, taking Grace's hands in hers with a forced
smile, trying to ignore the leftover hurt of her little girl's words.

"Mommy. . ."

She raised an eyebrow in silent question, head tilted to see Grace's eyes.

"Mommy. . .you're bleeding."

Scully felt it trickle just as Grace said the words, and by a long-buried
reflex, she raised her hands to her nose.

It was rich and red, bright and dark all at once.

"Mommy?"

Grace eyes were wide, confused and frightened, trying to pull her hand
from her mother's.

Scully rose quickly, her panic slipping into her like quicksilver, and ran
to the bathroom, pushing away the tug of the past.

Grace followed her, watching her with rounded eyes as she grabbed a
Kleenex, blocking the flow of blood from its origin.

"Mommy?"

Scully didn't even hear her, so blind was her panic, so completely
enveloping was her memory of a hospital bed and a death coming swiftly for
her.

Grace yanked hard on her shirt, peering over the counter and into the
bathroom mirror, her face ready to cry.

Scully pulled away the tissue, saw the blood had stopped, felt suddenly
sick.

"Grace. . ."

The little girl gave her half a smile. "Just a bloody nose, Mommy. It's
okay. I had a bloody nose, remember, Mommy? It's okay."

Scully gave her a tight smile, then pushed her towards the kitchen.

"Right, Grace."

"We'll tell Daddy when he gets home and it he'll make it all better."

Scully froze, the sudden image of Mulder standing before her, eyes so very
anguished, so very hurting, that she grabbed Grace harder than she meant.

"Ouch."

"Grace, we don't need Daddy to make it all better. I'm just fine. Okay
Grace?"

"Why can't we tell Daddy?"

The little girl saw right through Scully's attempt to play down the event,
her eyes narrowed.

"Well, baby. . .This needs to be just between us, all right? Daddy gets
upset whenever us girls get hurt, you know? Remember how sad Daddy was
when you got sick, baby?"

Grace nodded and fingered her mother's hair, pushing it aside and then
pulling it back down.

"I see. . ." she said softly.

Scully smiled brightly, then softly sighed.

"Baby. . .I just don't want Daddy to worry too much about me."

Grace nodded and looked into her eyes. "So. . .it's all okay. You're okay,
right, Mommy?"

"Just fine, baby. I'm just fine."

It sounded hollow even to Grace.
~~~~

She was up again, and somewhere in his sleep, he felt her rise, felt the
bed quiver as she pushed the covers back over him to keep in the warmth.

With a light finger, she smoothed his forehead then kissed it, then went
to the bathroom.

The nightlight was flickering and she moved in close to the mirror, then
sighed.

Grabbing a tissue, she dabbed at her nose, soaking up the blood trickling
down her lip. It was getting to be a rgeular thing, in a sort of random
frightening way.

Her heart flipped and her fingers tightened around the sink, fear settling
deep in her stomach like ice. It creeped through her veins and made her
palms clammy and slick.

It couldn't be coming back. . .not now. Not when she had so much in this
life, not when she had a little girl and a husband and a home.

Rubbing a hand over her face, she sank down to the floor, eyes closing in
overwhelming anguish.

Not again, not again.
~~~~

The doctor was nice, his smile soft and innocent, like he was almost
afraid to be too direct with her.

She watched him work, pushing away her own clinical knowledge, trying to
forget the reasons why she was here.

He gave her a physical first, touching her throat to feel if her glands
were swollen, manipulating her limbs, probing her stomach gently.ore the
deafening thunder of her own thriving fear, the way it snaked into her
heart.

Dr. Shrap nodded softly to her and moved away, calling in a nurse to draw
her blood, and trying to reassure her tight face with a pat on the knee.

When everything was done, when all she had to do was gather her clothes,
and put them on slowly, trying to figure out how she would come home, go
to Mulder, tell him what was going on.

She couldn't tell him.

She remembered his face that time before, the way he'd panicked and
flustered, the way he had literally been too deep in grief to find a way
out.

She couldn't tell him until she was sure. 

What if it wasn't the cancer? What if it was just a fluke?

She swallowed heavily and paid the office with cash.
~~~~

Shrap was smiling, a full force smile that was tempered only by a hesitant
flicker in his eyes.

She gave him an almost smile back, still heavy with a week of waiting, of
fending off bloody noses and Mulder's curiosity.

It hadn't been better, this deep seeded ache that came with the certain
knowledge that she was going to die this time, that the cancer would
finally do its job.

She wished, for a brief selfish instant, that she had Mulder there,
holding her hand, smoothing her worries with a whisper of laughter.

But she faced the man alone, would face whatever news he had for her with
the dignity and strength that she posessed.

An image of Grace swam before her, and she closed her eyes briefly to
master the tears that wanted to slide down her cheeks.

"Dana?" came the doctor's soft voice.

She opened her eyes and nodded.

"I want to show you this," he said, and held up the X-rays.
~~~~

When she began travelling back home, the rain poured down on her like
God's own tears, grieving and mourning for her.

She kept her face a calm mask of professionalism, knowing that when she
got to the house, she'd have to confront the news.
 
Her hands were shaking as she turned into their driveway, noting with some
awe that the skies had dammed up, that the angry black clouds framing
their house did not offer the summer thunderstorms.

She thought it a good omen, better than the rain washing away her own
tears.

Stepping carefully into the house, she called out for Mulder, wanting to
see his face, feel his arms, touch him, while the doctor's words sat heavy
inside her.

She had spent the entire day there, from eight thirty that morning until a
little after three, going over X-rays and scans and other tests,
confirming and organizing, and scheduling more appointments, finding her a
special doctor to treat her.

She was afraid; she was shaking so hard that her keys rattled in her hand.

Mulder didn't appear, and she saw his small scrawl on a note propped on
the table in the foyer, saying he had gone with Grace to get her some new
shoes, since her sneakers were pinching her toes already.

She smiled, feeling that rush of strange familiarity as she thought of
normal things, of tying her daughter's shoes, kissing Mulder before they
left for work, making lunch, and sleeping in late on Saturday.

All those things were her small life now, composed up the intimate moments
that made her family so precious, so much a part of her.

And now, this would seep into every crack, taint every shoe-tying, every
Mulder-kiss, every lunch-made, and every Saturday-sleep.

She dropped her purse to the floor and wandered aimlessly into the
kitchen, pressing her stomach to the cool metal of the counter, running
her hands along the sink edge, closing her eyes.

She'd had this ache before, knew its power over her life, over both of
them.

She remembered the hospital, the fear, the thought that every day could be
the last.

The knowledge that she'd never get another chance.

Scully dropped her head in her hands and choked on a sob, trying to hold
it back, but not succeeding.

It was then that the sky became furious with lightning, flashing from one
cloud to the other, streaking the earth with its power.

She let herself cry, wishing for Mulder.
~~~~

~~~~

"You got to know when to hold them,
know when to fold them,
know when to walk away,
and know when to run.
You never count your money
when you're sitting at the table.
There'll be time enough for counting
when the dealing's done."
--"The Gambler" Kenny Rogers

~~~~

They were laughing as they came in, Grace bouncing around on the
sidewalk like a rabbit, her hair whiplashed in the sudden summer storm.

Mulder turned her around to watch the lightning flicker through the
clouds, and she stopped talking to gaze at in awe.

The house was dark as he backed into the door, tripping over the
umbrella Scully had left out for them before they'd left.

"Hey Scully!"

He was smiling, watching the way the storm seemed ready to lash at the
trees, at the sky, at the earth, all for the fury and the power building
and building in it.

He'd felt that way before.

Grace moved out of his reach and skipped back down the sidewalk to the
yard, ignoring his warnings and watching the sky.

"Gracie, right now!" he yelled, trying to make his voice heard over the
thunder.

She turned her head and glanced back at him, at the forest green
shutters on their house, the beige paint and solid brick.

He was angry, like the storm, but it wasn't something she wanted to stir
up with him.

So she ran back.

He grabbed her shoulder, squeezing, maybe a bit too hard, and she
shrivelled, pouting at him.

"Grace. You're not a baby. Stand up."

She huffed at him and stood, perfectly fine, her flair for drama
igniting at the worst times.

"Scully! Come look at the lightning!" he called again, leaving the door
open as Grace backed inside.

"Can I look at it from my room?"

Mulder nodded, waiting for Scully to show up behind him, that soft touch
that could make him more excited than any simple summer storm.

He breathed in the air, the scent of something otherworldly burning,
which Scully always told him was ozone.

Ozone.

It smelled like souls on fire. Like hell come to rage across mankind.

He shivered and shut the door, mind darkened by his thoughts.

Suddenly, he didn't want to watch the storm.

"Scully?"

He walked through the foyer, his boots making hollow echoes as they
touched the bare floor.

"In here," he heard, faintly, and turned toward the kitchen, thinking
she must be watching it from the window over the sink.

Moving to his right, he saw her framed in candlelight, preparation for
the eventual blackout their neighborhood *always* had when it stormed.

"Hey," he whispered and slipped up behind her, encircling her with his
arms.

A soft kiss to her head made her settle against him, then he heard her
sigh.

The lightning was flaring up in every corner of the sky, illuminating
grey green clouds and black black sky.

"Wow, it turned really dark all of the sudden."

She nodded and then wrapped her hands along his arms.

"Jeez, Scully. Your fingers are freezing."

She turned in his arms and he looked down to catch a glimpse of a smile
he knew would be there, but instead, she'd been crying.

"Scully?"

She buried her head in his chest and stood there, making a concerted
effort just to breathe, and when her eyes came up to meet his, he saw a
kind of diluted joy emblazoned there.

"Mulder. . .I'm pregnant."

The storm cracked through the sky and lightning blazed along her
cheekbones, momentarily outdoing the candlelight.

"Do what?" he said, stiff, bewildered.

"What else? Mulder. . ."

"But. . ."

"Mulder. . ."

"But. . ."

"Mulder!" she said, taking his arms in her hands with a firm grip.

He laughed.

She shook her head. "I laughed too. But it's true."

"This is great! This is amazing! I thought it wasn't possible. They said
there was no chance. . .and. . .why are you looking at me like that?"

He stopped, watching her intently, his burst of delight halted by the
sheen of tears in her eyes.

"They don't think it will reach full term."

He trembled, felt his knees give way and land hard on the kitchen floor,
too weak to breathe.

She kneeled along side him, face still remote, on the verge of tears,
hands reaching for him but not knowing how to help, where to help.

He pressed his palms into his eyes, gasped in breaths as shooting stars
raced lightning across his lids.

Then he pulled her into him, one soft sob rushing out as his hands
touched her waist.

"Why?" he asked, not sure who the question was directed to. . .her or
God or the doctors who'd said such a thing.

"It's not meant to be. . ." she whispered.

He pulled back violently, eyes flashing. "Don't *say* that. Don't you
dare say that."

She looked away. "You told me that once. . .with Emily."

"God. . .Oh God. . .Emily was . . . was. . .different."

"How? How is that different?"

"Emily began as a test, Scully. She entered into this life as a pawn.
This baby is *ours* and I'm not going to give up on it. I'm *not*."

She leaned her head against the cabinets beneath the sink, eyes closing
as she struggled to breathe. It seemed her chest was too tight, her
lungs too small, her every breath blocked by something powerful and
clenching.

"There's nothing we can do, Mulder. Nothing. It's too early to tell for
sure, but he said that it's showing signs of fetal deformity. . .'errors
in the growth of developmental change'."

He rubbed a hand over his face, eyes likes ghosts haunting a cemetery.

"What else?" he whispered.

"The. . .baby's behind schedule for development. . .losing time. . .he
said that in all likelihood, I'll spontaneously abort."

"What!"

She shook her head. "That means my body will recognize the problems and
refuse to support it."

He collapsed into her, arms crushing her tightly to him, mind helplessly
seeking some kind of good news, something to turn this around.

"How'd this happen?" she said softly. "How did this ever happen? If only
to die. . ."

"Hope, Scully. If you can even conceive. . .oh God. . ."

She shuddered. "I don't want to do this again, Mulder. I don't want to
hurt like that again. I don't want that ache in me so terrible and so
awful that it swallows up everything good I have."

"It's already here. . ." he said and felt his own tears slip down his
cheeks.

"Promise me, Mulder. . .Promise."

"What? Anything."

She closed her eyes. "Stay right here. . .please, please, stay right
here."

He went still, lifeless, felt as if someone had sucked everything from
him in one ripping breath.

She was afraid he'd do it again.

He'd leave her like that, he'd be unfaithful like that after everything
they'd gone through, all the tears and hurt and promises.

She opened her eyes, saw that she'd hurt him.

She pulled back. "I'm sorry. . .Sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"No. . .no. Only fair."

He reached for her again, let her hesitance fall away, her shame and
sorrow peeling like layers of skin.

"I promise. Scully, I *promise*."

She nodded, smiled once, but it lost energy and ended up turning into a
fight not to cry.

"Now. . .let's get off the floor and try to figure out what's going on."

He stood, picked her up with a gentle hand, then kissed her nose, just
as he did for Grace when she was hurting.

But her eyes didn't spark, and her movements were slow, grief stricken.

Remembering everything they'd been through before Grace, recalling all
that raw pain that had just festered and grown and gorged on them, he
understood her fear.

God, don't let it happen all over again.
~~~~

Dr. Shrap had referred her to a neonatalogist named Dr. Bellcamp, and the
man was just as soft and mouse-like as her first doctor. His hair was a
dark black and his nose was long and Roman, eyes wise.

She  liked him immdediately, and his voice was so deep and resonating that
she felt like she could feel it all the way to her toes.

Dr. Bellcamp wanted to do an amniocentesis, an invasive procedure using a
needle and ultrasound that drew a sample of the fetal cells and sent them
to a lab for chromosomal analysis.

She hadn't had that done yet, and it would be scheduled for later in the
pregnancy, at about 16 weeks, if she made it that long.

Right now, they were preparing for a chorionic villus sampling, which did
not take cells straight from the baby, but from the villus in the
surrounding womb. Both procedures had a slight risk of causing
termination, but with the threat of death hanging over the baby anyway,
they deemed it a necessary evil.

Mulder was holding her hand while they set up the room, his eyes wide at
the needle they'd put in her and his breath coming fast.

"You're much braver than I, Scully," he said softly and kissed her mouth.

She smiled at him and rubbed her hand along her stomach, then looked to
the nurses and doctors setting up.

"It's not so much bravery, as fear," she said back and watched his eyes
darken.

"I'm afraid too," he said and hung his head. "What if this baby. . .I
mean, it's ours. Without all that help we had before. . .without any of
it. What if this baby can't make it?"

Scully ran a hand through her hair and then pushed back his bangs, giving
him a smile she did not feel.

"We're going to have to get through this, Mulder, whatever happens. And I
need you. . .I need you to help me, Mulder."

His face softened and he leaned in to kiss her, letting his lips drift
along her cheek, down to the spot under her jaw that always made her
squirm.

"All right," said Dr. Bellcamp. "Let's get started."
~~~~

She closed her eyes and felt sleep slowing falling over her.

Her hand reached out blindly, seeking for Mulder's, but found only empty
air and a fear slicing through her body.

She felt pain in her stomach, like razors pressing hard into her skin and
breaking through. She writhed on the bed, eyes opening in pain.

It was dark.

She was breathing hard.

Mulder was shaking her shoulders.

She shivered. 

"Bad dream," she said in between gasps.

He rubbed her back as she turned over, then closed her eyes again, trying
to keep her breath inside her lungs long enough to do some good.

"It'll be okay, Scully. No matter what that tests said. . .we're going to
be okay."

She gave him such a look of desperation, her eyes pleading with him for
hope, that it knocked him back, and he felt sick.

"I don't know how to get past this, Mulder. When the time comes. . .how am
I going to let this baby go?"

He buried his nose into her neck and sighed. "I don't know. . .I just
don't know."

She reached out for his embrace, moving into the soft warmth of his arms
and body, letting her eyes drift shut again.

"Mulder. " she whispered.

He murmured something against her ear.

"Mulder, don't let me pull away from you."

He shuddered. "I won't. I won't."

"I don't know how we're going to make it. . ."

His hand came to her mouth and stilled her lips and tongue.

"Stop thinking. Just sleep for now."

She nodded and let his even breathing pull her into dreams.
~~~~
~~~~

"Put the past away. . ."
--"Jumper" Third Eye Blind

~~~~

There'd been some raised eyebrows, but they managed to both get that
next Tuesday off for a doctor's appointment, enduring another one of
Kersh's monthly talking to's that warned them about persuing cases
outside the Bureau mainstream.

As if they hadn't been doing that for six years already.

He could tell she was nervous about the doctor, because her hands shook
as she made Grace's lunch for school, and then she couldn't seem to sit
down and eat breakfast with them.

Mulder checked his daughter's backpack, making sure she'd gotten all of
her homework, and the small blue blanket for naptime, then gave her a
kiss.

Grace jumped from his fiddling hands as soon as she saw the bus and
waved good bye while Scully came to stand beside him.

Her face was dejected.

"You okay?" he asked, thinking she was upset over the baby.

She shook her head and brushed him off, her concerns largely about
Grace's flippant disregard for her. She couldn't seem to bear to think
about anything else right then.

"Fine. Let's get going," she muttered.

He watched her for a moment, felt that same sense of dread welling in
him, that same feeling he'd had so many times before, when they went to
the doctor, when they had tried and tried and tried.

But he shoved it down and pulled his grey T-shirt off, throwing it in
the hamper in favor of a cotton collared shirt in a dark-black blue.

She moved past him and touched his side, pulling on her soft leather
jacket since it was a bit chilly outside due to the storm.

He grabbed a part of the black leather and hooked his arm around her
waist.

"We're going to be just fine, Scully."

She wanted to smile, wanted to close her eyes and believe it, but she
merely nodded morosely and prayed he was right.

Oh, God, let him be right.
~~~~

Muler sat back in a wash of medical terms that flowed right through him
and never made any impression. He felt like he was drowning in the new
language, casting about for any kind of life raft, just one word that
made some kind of sense, that told him something about what was going
on.

Scully was nodding, face grim and greyed, one hand tightly clutching his
as the doctor sat there, still explaining.

He just stayed still, hoping for the best.

There were words like 'chromosomes', and he understood them, and
'placenta', and he got that, and then 'factors' and something about
genetic counseling, which did not sound good at all.

When the man left to perform some other test, Scully turned to him, her
eyes seemingly hollow.

"Did you catch any of that?" she said softly.

He shrugged and shook his head.

"There's a lot of things they're going to be looking for in the next
diagnostic, the amniocentesis. Already he suspects Trisomy 18, says
there's a chance for some severe heart disorders. . .among other things."

He blanked and raised a brow, clearly lost. "Trisomy?"

"Uh. . .that's where there's an extra chromosome at pair 18-"

"Down's Syndrome!"

She shook her head, closing her eyes. "I wish. No. . .this is a bit
worse. Same kinds of . . .of abnormalities. . ."

She shivered violently, then buried her head in her hands.

"More severe. . .it's more severe."

He licked his lips then sighed, pushing her head back to meet his eyes.

"But. . .but still. Could it survive?"

She frowned, lips twisting, brow so wrinkled with grief that he wished
he could smooth those lines with the gentle touch of his hands.

"Survive? I don't know. . .I don't know."

He reached for her hands and kissed them softly, trying not to think too
hard.

"Did he explain how this happened?"

She looked at him, her eyes frantic for humor, for a lighter mood.

"Sex, Mulder. I thought it best to explain it to you at home, instead of
the doctor here."

He gave her a grin, appreciating the attempt to lighten things.

"You sure about that, Scully? You know the doctors here have those neat
real life models. . ."

"Who needs a model?"

He chuckled and kissed her nose, glad to see the light back in her eyes,
the way she seemed able to breathe without a sob catching in her throat.

"He said that maybe with all the drugs they pumped me with earlier,
trying to make the others work, making Grace work. . .maybe that caused
some kind of regeneration. . ."

His eyebrow shot up.

"Like when you cut a worm in half and you get two different worms?"

She poked him. "No. . .well, yes. In a way, actually. As if all those
hormones and proteins and everything stimulated it to regrow."

He grinned. "So. . .that means you. . .we could try again?"

Scully's face went into shadows and he wished he had not asked.

"If. . .do you want to, Mulder?"

He sat back, thinking over her words, the implications of having that
chance again.

"Maybe. . .maybe not. I don't know. . .is it worth all that again?"

She traced his knuckles with a shaky finger.

"And. . .and, Mulder. If I do have the ability again, it may not
necessarily be mature. . .do you understand that?"

He frowned. "Like. . .maybe all those chromosomes aren't there in your
eggs?"

She smiled slightly. "Ah, you're smarter than I thought."

"Ha. So that could be why there's problems with this pregnancy, then
too. Right?"

"Right. My fault. . ." she whispered.

He winced and closed his eyes. "That's not what I meant."

"It's true though. I could be just making eggs with half the needed
genetic material and-"

He placed a finger to her lips. "I don't care, Scully. I don't care.
We'll see this through, better or worse, then we can talk about whether
or not we want to try again. All right?"

Her eyes filled with tears again and she shook her head, sniffling.

"That's just it, Mulder. We may not be able to see this through."

"Well, I know. You said they thought it wouldn't reach full-"

"No," she whispered, closing her eyes. "If it's bad enough. . .they're
going to reccomend an abortion."

He gaped at her, furious in an instant, then broken.

"Why?"

She shook her head.

"Why, Scully? Why an abortion? What's going on?"

"There's a possibility that if my body tries to do it naturally, I could
bleed to death. . .I could. . .not. . ."

He was going to throw up.

The room spun crazily and he clutched her hands, his breath like labor
pants, his legs milky and unable to keep him up.

"No no no no no," he murmured.

She grabbed his face with her hands and tightly shut her eyes, then
opened to see his look, this utter grief ravaging through him. His
forehead came to hers, pressing their skin together in a rush of sorrow
fueled heat.

"I can't lose you, Scully. I can't lose you."

She took a deep breath, felt the earth shaking like the waves of
determination in her heart.

"And I can't kill this baby, Mulder."

He was dead still, frozen to the core.

There was a breath between them.

A trembling in her hands.

A shaky sob in his throat.

He pulled back, released her hands for a moment, staring like she'd told
him . . .like she'd told him she would die.

It was the same panic look:  from the bomb in the federal building, from
her news that she had cancer, from the blood one night signalling the
end of her chances.

She stayed absolutely still, knowing that he had to deal with her
decision, had to realize the true extent of her words.

He sank back into the chair, rubbing a tired hand over his mouth.

He glanced to her, the anguished look in her eyes.

"You knew this before we came."

His words were soft, final, but not accusing, not angry, merely sad.

She nodded. "I knew."

"You didn't. . .didn't ask me."

She shook her head again, biting her bottom lip. "I couldn't even. .
.even think about it."

"So. . .this is it? We do everything to deliver this baby and then. .
.then if your body rejects it. . .I wait for you to die?"

His face crumpled, his words were low and gravelly, his overwhelming
grief raging through his entire speech.

She shook her head. "It could all be okay, Mulder. Even if we lose the
baby, I'll probably be fine. There's only a small chance, Mulder. .
.has to do with how far along I am and the size. . ."

He reached forward, took her hand slowly, his brows knitted together,
mouth working as if he wanted to say something.

Finally, he looked up at her.

"I promised. . .I promised. I'm staying right here."

She let out a long breath, not even aware that she'd been holding it,
then leaned forward, hugging him tightly.

"Thank you Mulder. . .thank you. You'll see. I'll be fine. We'll be
okay."
~~~~

She was reading everything she could on Trisomy 18, and on birth defects
of a baby's heart. The library didn't have very much that satisfied her,
and she kept having to puzzle through new medical terms that she hadn't
kept entirely up to date on.

They had a lot of advances in the research of why sometimes this happened,
why babies could have extra chromosomes when the cells divided, why
sometimes their hearts didn't close up, or their brains didn't develop all
the way.

They still had no clear answer, nothing but chance and happenstance, and
she wasn't prepared to face that. She didn't want to think that it was
just a random occurence, something unplanned and unwanted.

God had to have a reason for this, she had to firmly keep her trust in
this one hope, that this was all for a better reason.

Yet, that too, seemed unfair, seemed so pithy and unemotional. She'd had
one miscarriage already, that late night waking to blood, the way her
entire being felt lost and remote, that she would never wake from the
nightmare.

Pregnant with Grace, the baby showing signs of strength, kicking her at
night and moving around in the daytime, Scully felt those same feelings
well in her as fear, as the blinding thought that this one too could die.

Grace was healthy, although tiny, with five fingers on each hand, five
toes on each foot, her mouth pouty and red, her eyes bright and turning
grey and blue all at once.

Sitting at the computer now, trying to find information online, looking at
the pictures of the babies with Down's Syndrome and other disorders,
Scully thanked God that Grace had been so perfect, despite their rocky
relationship.

Grace was whole.

She smiled at them when she was happy, and she played Go Fish with Mulder
in the dining room; she sang to the songs she liked and even made up dance
moves to the better ones. She threw tantrums and flushed Mulder's fish
down the toilet when it died; she went to kindergarten and had the little
boys chasing her on the palyground.

Her eyes showed her soul, and in that gaze was the complexity of a smart,
beautiful woman, still growing up.

Scully shivered and pushed away from the computer, seeking out her family.

Mulder was reading some case files in the bedroom, and after placing a
kiss on his forhead and receiving an absent-minded grin, she moved on to
the living room, knowing that it was Grace's favorite place to be.

She found her playing loudly with her Barbies and GI Joes that Mulder had
given her for Christmas. The GI Joes were winning.

Scully sat down on the floor with her, smiling, her mind showing her
images of Grace as a baby, mouth yawning and little pink tongue smoothing.

Grace looked up with a smile and shot a grenade launcher at her, giggling
when it bounced off her mother's forehead.

"Nice shot, Grace." Scully picked up the little grenade and gave it back,
amused that her daughter could have such a happy harmony of Barbie and GI
Joe.

"Daddy's been showing me how to aim," Grace said and reloaded the little
plastic toy, then shoved it back into the GI Joe's hand, setting him
leaning against the couch.

"*Wonderful*." Scully raised and eyebrow and watched her quietly for a
while, wanting to reach out and pull her daughter to her lap, cuddle her
for a few minutes, remind herself of all the good.

Grace shot the grenade at the fireplace and then made her little GI Joe
hang by his hand from the screen, making noises as if the man were calling
for help. Barbie came up and began the rescue operation, her doctor's coat
a dingy white from the soot around the fireplace.

Scully moved closer to her and touched her shoulder.

"Can I play?" she said softly.

Grace's eyebrows met and she glanced to her mother's eyes, confused a bit.

"Oh. You can be the guy's brother. Here he is. He's a bad guy, though
Mommy. A Cobra. See, he's got this gun right here, and this cool backpack
that sticks into this hole. All right?"

Scully smiled and nodded, picking up the GI Joe with the evil look on his
face and funny looking outfit.

Grace looked at her Barbie's, then picked out one with a black skirt and
suit jacket on, it's red hair bright and shiny plastic.

"You can have my favorite. Her name's . . .uh, Daphney."

Grace gave her the doll with solemnity, placing the doll in her hands with
a sense of resignation.

Scully felt honored immensely, the doll gently in her fingers, its clothes
perfect and hair neatly pulled back into a pony tail.

"Thank you baby."

Grace nodded and Scully quickly reached out and snagged her into a hug,
closing her eyes to keep from crying.

"You're such a beautiful spirit, Gracie."
~~~~

Only as she was talking to Mulder later, explaining what had happened, how
they had come to play in the living room floor for three hours, their own
private games going on in their head, conversation consisting mainly of
short emergencies, did Scully truly appreciate what Grace had done.

Mulder smiled at her and kissed her softly, rubbing one hand along her
belly, just as he had when she'd been pregnant with Grace.

"I know what Barbie that is. She takes it with her everywhere. And, you
know what, Scully?"

She glanced to him, relaxed with his fingertips brushing her skin.

"That Barbie looks so much like you, it's scary."

Scully's mouth dropped open and she thought back.

"Suit on, red hair, and it's her favorite," he continued.

The room faded for a moment, and all Scully could feel was his hand
anchoring her to reality with its slight pressure.

"Her favorite?"

He nodded and she smiled, warmth spreading through her.
~~~~
~~~~

"No matter how they toss the dice
It had to be -
The only one for me is you
and You for me,
So happy together.
I can't see me loving nobody but you
For all my life.
When you're with me, baby, the skies will be blue
For all my life."
--"Happy Together", The Turtles

~~~~

"We made pictures, Daddy! Look."

Mulder plastered a smile across his face and took the stiff piece of
butcher paper from his daughter, noting the heavy black paint and
patches of green dotting the edges.

"Good job, baby."

Grace looked up at him, her brow wrinkled.

"Aren't you going to ask what it is?"

"Okay, what is it?"

She grinned and shrugged. "I don't know. My teacher asked and I told her
it was an abstract. She seemed impressed."

Mulder laughed, her impish look reminding him a lot of himself,
attempting to fool the teachers and impress the class.

"So, you just picked up some black and-"

"No, Daddy. That's purple. It accidentally got mixed in with my brown
and then the red, and then the green, so it looks kind of like a blob."

He picked her up, pushing himself off the couch and heading in to his
own bedroom, looking for Scully.

"Let's show Mommy."

Grace made a face but let herself be carried into the master bathroom.

Scully was washing her hands, and her face brightened as they came
nearer.

"Hey, Grace. How was school, hon?"

Grace shrugged and held up her picture.

"I made a painting."

Scully dried her hands on a towel and took it from her, concentrating.
Then her eyes raised and she shrugged.

"So, tell me about it, Grace."

Grace's grin was enormous as she explained the story, making Scully's
soul quiet.

When she was done, Scully leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"Mm, my baby's smarter than the teachers."

Grace laughed and reached for her mother, but Mulder pulled her back,
concerned that Scully shouldn't be lifting any five year olds.

Scully's face dropped and she headed into the kitchen, talking about
dinner and preparations, ignoring the tiny growing discontent within
her.
~~~~

Mulder came back into the bedroom, watching her brush her teeth for a
moment, then sat down on the bed.

"Scully?"

She turned, smiling through the toothpaste, then leaned over the sink to
spit, cupping her hand to rinse her mouth with water.

Mulder rubbed his hands on his jeans, then sighed heavily, burdened with
the knowledge of everything that was to come.

Scully came to sit next to him, both silent and weary.

"I didn't want you to get hurt," he said softly.

She let her breath out in an explosion of frustration.

"I can't hurt anything by picking up Grace!"

Mulder closed his eyes. "Okay. . .okay. I. . .Tell me what's wrong,
what's right, Scully."

She shivered. "I don't even know. Mulder. . .I mean, I'll have to watch
my diet, and take vitamins, and generally try to keep myself safe. .
.but there's nothing else I can do. . .I'm helpless. . ."

He didn't touch her, knowing this was her own personal battle, the will
for control over her life, the need to have some say in the matter.

"This isn't even anything that I . . .caused. I mean, I don't smoke or
drink or do drugs. . .so it's not like it's really even my fault. . .but
I. . .I feel like there's something that I should have done. Something I
need to do."

The room seemed dark, even with the eight o'clock sun still fading in
the west, and the shadows lept from the desk to the floor, then crept
across the bed.

"Scully. . .you're right. There's nothing we can do. Just hope."

"Pray," she murmured.

He frowned but let it go.

"I want this to work, Scully. I want the baby to be healthy, above all.
Even if this baby is . . .is handicapped. That's okay. We can deal with
that."

She closed her eyes tightly and leaned into his shoulder, shuddering.

"I don't want to cry anymore," she said, trying to laugh.

He put his arm around her, letting them sit there in silence to
recapture the uneasy peace of before.

"What do we tell Grace?" she said softly.

He shrugged. "I . . . I don't know. I mean, I don't like keeping the
truth from her. We told her about how she was born, she knows
everything, even if it might not make sense."

Scully smiled. "She asks for the story about her miracle almost every
week."

Mulder was surprised. "She does?"

"When I put her to bed, she does."

He sighed. "I didn't know."

"She likes hearing stories about you, Mulder."

He felt a bit embarassed, but proud too, glad his daughter liked him.

Scully glanced into his eyes, reading his surprise. "Mulder, that girl
adores you more than anything. . .anything."

He smiled and glanced down to her. "Well, she's got one hell of a mother
too."

<I wish *Grace* thought that. . .>

Scully shook her head of thoughts and stood up again.

"I'm going to bed early tonight Mulder. I feel a little tired."

He nodded and reached out to snag her waist, his thumbs rubbing lazy
circles along her skin.

"One day at a time, Scully. We'll just deal with this one day at a
time."

She smiled gratefully at him, again marvelling at how well he could read
her when he wanted to.

"I'm going to be around. Maybe get on the computer for a while, eat
something."

She nodded and leaned down to kiss him softly.

"Thanks, Mulder."

He smiled briefly into her kiss, then pushed forward and smoothed his
lips along her stomach.

"Good night baby," he whispered.
~~~~

It was dark, the clouds obscuring any summer moon that might have risen,
and the light from the living room was a long way off.

She curled around her stomach, pulling the warm blankets tighter around
her body, needing to feel that she was somehow protecting the baby.

She felt like she was waiting on the edge of the sheerest cliff in the
world, one foot already slipping down, her balance just about to falter.

She knew what it felt like, she still felt it, every now and then, when
Mulder and Grace seemed very far away, when the frustration and failures
seemed to pile up. It was that ache, that overwhelming emptiness so deep
and so dark that not even Mulder could lead her out.

He knew it was coming too.

She could tell by the way he was so close, so sensitive and worried. She
was rapidly getting sick of his touchy hovering manner, and her own
indeterminable waiting.

She felt guilty for being so removed from the baby, for trying to hold
herself apart from the excitement and nervousness of having a baby. She
wanted to feel that thrill, to have again that unbridled joy, but the
knowledge of what might come, of death and sorrow, kept her firmly
entrenched in her solitude.

Mulder was getting antsy, she could tell, getting frustrated with her
closed off manner and her detatched words. He wanted to rejoice, he
wanted to feel every bit of this.

She just couldn't do that again. She just couldn't.

She whimpered, burying her head in the pillow, curling her hands around
her still flat stomach, breathing in a rush.

She had Grace. . .that was enough. . .Oh God, please. Grace is enough. I
don't want this.

God, I don't know how to do this again.

I don't want this hollow nothing that always creeps in.

She closed her eyes, felt the tears slipping down her cheeks, staining
her pillow.

She didn't want the baby to die. . .

but if she went full term, if the baby was born. . .how could she stop
from loving it?

And then. . .for it to die then. . .oh God. . .for it to die. . .

Please, please. . . .

But she didn't even know what she needed to pray.
~~~~

It was a lot later than he meant to be up.

He glanced at the glowing green of the microwave and the numbers blurred
and fuzzed as he passed, but he realized that it was already one in the
morning.

He slid carefully into the bedroom, then began pulling his jeans off,
trying to keep quiet so he wouldn't wake Scully.

He'd been reading about chromosomal deficiencies online, journals about
research and the causes, and even some personal accounts from parents of
children with Down's Syndrome.

All of them talked as if it was a battle, but one well worth it. The
kids were described as being friendly and loving, loyal and truly kind,
having a wide range of abilities and personalities. They were children.
. .but, children forever.

He pulled down the sheets, then sat on the edge of the bed, thinking
over the things he'd learned, recalling how every single parent praised
God for the joy in their lives.

God.

It was an odd, untouched part of his life, this half belief.

He supposed that if anyone would make him want to believe in God, it was
Scully.

After the things he'd done, she had forgiven him and taken him back and
they were getting there, they were working on it. They were *together*
again, and that was more than most could say.

He also supposed that now, if anything could *show* him God, it would be
this baby, even the chance of having him.

Or her.

He smiled and laid down, turning to watch Scully sleep all curled up on
the very far edge of the bed. She always slept like that, almost like a
little baby, rolled up into a ball and breathing softly, in and out.

He touched her side, ran his fingers along her skin.

She relaxed out into his hand, an automatic reflex he had discovered a
few years ago. When his thumb brushed her breast, she hummed and turned,
letting him move in close to her.

Smiling, he kissed her neck, letting her dreams capture the feeling.

He brushed his hand along her stomach, thinking about the pictures of
the kids with Down's, their slightly slanted eyes, turned in noses, and
cute grins. They were happy, completely and utterly, and would be for
the rest of their life. . .however long that was.

But, Scully had said the doctors were looking for Trisomy 18, which was
a worse case than Down's, and while chances of survival were less, there
was still the chance of a few days after birth. 

A few days.

He sat up for a moment, making Scully shiver in her sleep until he
pulled the blanket around her shoulders.

He softened his hand along her belly, imagining he could feel the tiny
heartbeat, even though it was still in the first weeks, still only
dividing cells.

That thought stilled him for a moment.

Still dividing cells, and yet. . .it was a life, a baby there.

He bent forward and kissed her stomach, eyelashes brushing her skin as
his eyes closed. Her muscles twitched and he felt her hands go to his
hair.

"Mulder?" she said softly.

"Hm," he murmured, and looked up at her, then laid back down next to
her.

"Just get in bed?" she said, her eyes sliding shut again.

He nodded and traced her eyes with a finger, knowing it put her to
sleep.

"Scully?"

She opened her eyes again, ready to listen.

"I. . .Pray for the baby?"

At the surprise and caution flickering across her face, he ducked his
head.

"I. . .It's all we can do, right? And I don't think it'd be too right
for me to pray. . .I kind of turned my back on God."

Scully reached down and brushed his hair from his eyes.

"But, Mulder. God didn't turn his back on you. . ."

He stayed silent, watching her for a long moment.

"I will, though. . .I don't know what to pray for. . .but I'll trust God."

He frowned. "I don't know if I can do that. . .but tell Him I'll try."

She smiled and bent down to kiss him.

"You're a wonderful man, Fox Mulder."

He grinned. "I try."

He laid back down alongside her, tucking her into his embrace and
pulling the sheets back around them tightly.

"Where'd the sudden interest in faith come from?"

He mumbled something she didn't catch then sighed.

"What?"

He looked up from the pillow, eyes smiling. "Your persistent faith in
God is something of an X-File, Scully. . .I can't help my inquisitive
nature."

She poked him and closed her eyes.

"Get some sleep, Mulder. Rest that nature of yours."

"Yes, ma'am."

The darkness and silence crept in quickly and covered them in a blanket
of reassurance.

For the first time, she felt a little more hope.
~~~~

The sky was still dark when she woke, and the first panicked thought she
had was <this is it>.

But there was no blood, no sickening feel of life dying between her legs.

She took in a deep breath and listened for sounds of night, trying to
figure out why she was awake.

Softly, she heard the crying, the muted noises of fear and pain.

She glanced first to Mulder, but he was asleep, his face buried in her
shoulder and breath tickling her ear.

She smiled and slid from his touch, then walked softly down the hall,
shivering in the chill. Their old house was out in the country, with huge
rambling hallways and open expanses with wooden floors for rooms. They had
carpeted most of it, except for the foyer and kitchen and the dining room,
the smell of wood strong there.

She found the nightlight in the hall flickering and she pushed it further
into the socket with her toe until it gave off a reassuring glow.

The sound of crying was coming from Grace's room and she hurried in,
pushing open the cracked door and glancing in.

"Gracie?"

Her daughter's eyes turned to her and her muffled sobs exploded into full
blown crying.

Scully went to her side quickly, pulling her into her arms, soothing her
with kisses and soft words, rocking her back and forth.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"I had a bad dream."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Can't remember. . ." she said pitifully and shivered in her mother's
arms, her tears soaking Scully's T-shirt.

Her mother was sitting on the side of the bed, arms around her strongly,
when Mulder came in, awake after Grace's crying.

Her eyes lit up and she held her arms out to her Daddy, going up into his
large embrace, his smell surrounding her with comfort.

Her Daddy had bad dreams too; he knew how frightening they could be. Mommy
didn't understand; she was always calm and she never was afraid of
monsters or witches or bad men who could break in and murder her.

Her Daddy hugged her tightly and she felt her mother's hand on her back,
rubbing it.

Scully felt the sting as her daughter reached for Mulder, but she pushed
down her selfishness ruthlessly, and placed a hand on Grace's sweaty back.

She moved to leave, knowing the Grace wanted her father, but the little
girl grabbed at her.

"Stay here Mommy. Just till I fall asleep."

Scully smiled and kissed Grace's forehead, then sat back down, keeping a
hand firmly on her back and her eyes on her daughter's.

Mulder rocked her back to sleep, an old Irish tune at his lips and a
steady hand in her hair.

Just as she was about to drift off, Mulder laid her back in the bed,
tucking her in. Grace's lips moved and her eyes opened slightly.

"Mommy can beat up all the bad men," she said softly and fell into sleep.

Scully looked at Mulder with surprise and he grinned, wanting to laugh.

They walked from the room and went to bed themselves.

She felt warm, loved, and needed.

It was enough to combat the helplessness she had about the baby, and sleep
found her quickly.
~~~~
~~~~

"Immediately the father of the child cried out, "I believe; help my
unbelief!"
--Mark 9:24

~~~~

The church was silent and soft, like the moment before a child runs wild
in the meadow, with the flowers swaying in the gentle breeze of spring.
She could almost see those flowers, smell them as she inhaled the incense
and the old wood and the holiness of the place.

She made her way to the front, crossing herself, lighting a candle, saying
again all those prayers that had slipped her mind at times.

Scully stood, watched the Confessional through tear jerked eyes, then
moved slowly up the side aisle to it, knowing there were untold
revelations to be found within.

The priest listened with his usual air of fatherhood, his reverent belief
in God and man that always made Scully humble, always made her want to run
from the church and do every single thing right, just so she wouldn't
disappoint this man's God.

She explained the baby, spoke of her fear, of her tiredness, of the past.

There were impending dangers, there were troubled times ahead, there were
rough waters.

And there were dragons in those waters.

When it ended, after all was forgiven, she sat there feeling numb.

She crawled from the box, her heart cold, her limbs heavy, her very soul
ripped and bleeding.

Nothing was going to make this better.

Not one man's caring words to a hopeful mother, not the last words of her
confession, not the knowledge that she was trying to set things right,
none of it eased her.

She was still a broken woman, still aching for love and for what would not
happen.

She knew it in her heart, felt it within the core of her.

This baby would not make it.

She had just better be ready.
~~~~

Mulder pulled Grace from the sidewalk and wrapped her with a huge hug,
letting her shocked face and incredible grin lift his spirits.

"What are you doing here, Daddy?" she said, as he held her hand and walked
her back to Gramma's house from the bus stop.

"I came early to get you."

"Was there not much at work?"

Mulder felt his smile turn down, but he shook his head. "Right, not much.
Mommy went to church for a few minutes, and she'll meet us at home."

Grace grew still, her face troubled.

"Daddy. . .what's wrong with Mommy?"

Mulder turned to see her ready to cry, her lips trembling, her eyes wide
with a kind of fear no child should ever feel in concern for their
parents.

"Ah. . .Grace. . .nothing's wrong. We'll tell you together, when we get
home, what's been going on."

She hitched in her breath. "Mommy. . .Mommy had a nose bleed a few weeks
ago, Daddy. She told me not to tell you, but she was sad about it. I
wanted to tell you, but she said not to. It's okay that I said it, right?"

Mulder sighed. "Baby, it's okay. Mommy was trying to keep me from worrying
about her. Her nose bleeding is a part of what we're going to tell you."

She nodded and wrapped her arms tightly around her, shivering.

"If Mommy. . ."

But she stopped and looked at her father, remembering her mother's words
that night, the way she hadn't wanted him to worry.

"Let's go home, Daddy."

Mulder took her hand and led her to the car.
~~~~

"Church help?" he said softly in her ear.

She nodded tightly, then bit her lip. "Kind of. . ."

"Mommy?"

Grace came in behind her father, pushing her way through his legs to her
mother's side.

"Hey, baby. Daddy and I need to tell you something."

She nodded and let her parents lead her to the couch, feeling the way the
room seemed cold and lifeless.

"Grace. . .remember the story about your miracle?"

Grace looked to her father with a bright grin. "I was a miracle, and you
had to do lots of things to get me."

"That's right. We wanted you very much," Scully said softly, looking into
her daughter's face and seeing her sister, seeing Mulder, seeing everyone
but herself.

Mulder pulled the little girl into his lap. "Well, your Mommy is pregnant,
baby. You might get a little brother or sister."

Grace's face was stone, hard and cold, and she said nothing, not able to
comprehend the words.

"But, this time we didn't have all that help, Gracie, so the baby is very
weak. It's not strong like you were."

Grace looked at her mother carefully. "But I don't want a brother or
sister."

Scully gave her a soft smile. "You'll like having someone else to play
with, once the baby gets older. But, Grace, it's very important that you
understand what I said."

Grace shook her head, wanting to protest.

"Because the baby is weak," Mulder began, holding her head still with a
hand to her chin, "it might not make it. There's a chance that the baby
will be too weak to live."

Grace's mouth dropped open. "I don't *want* the baby anyway! I don't want
it."

She pulled from her father's arms and ran to her room, her face clouded.

Mulder stared after her, the hurt spiralling in him like a dizzy roller
coaster.

He stood to go after her, anger replacing the pain, but Scully gripped his
arm, her face serene.

"Let her go, Mulder. It's a little touch of sibling rivalry. I think I
said the same to my parents when they told us they were going to have
Charlie."

He glanced to her, his face a collage of hurt and sorrow and anger.

"She should be. . .should be thrilled. And. . .she should be sad that
maybe the baby won't make it. Not *wishing* for it to die!"

Scully dropped her hand, looking down at the carpet.

In truth, Grace's reply didn't shock her that much, but she knew just how
self-centered all children were, it was instinctive for them, not
something to blame them for. She also knew just how stubborn Grace could
get, knew of the pain of having an offer or feeling rebuked by their
daughter.

But it had disillusioned Mulder.

She reached out for him and drew herself into his arms, making him forget
Grace for the moment.

"I'm sorry Scully. I'm sorry she acted like that."

Scully shook her head, recognizing how it sounded as if he were
apologizing for *his* daughter, as if Grace wasn't also her own.

"It's okay. It's really all right," she whispered, but inside, she knew it
was just another omen, just another sign of not only her deteriorating
relationship with her daughter, but also of the fate of the child within
her.
~~~~

"I don't want the baby!" 

Mulder sighed and threw his hands up in surrender, backing away.

"Forget it then, Grace. Just go to sleep now. We'll talk about it in the
morning."

He kissed her good night and clicked off the lamp, pulling her covers up
and tucking her in tightly.

Scully was outside, tears falling down her face.

He took her into his arms and held her there, shutting Grace's door with
his toe.

"It's all right. She'll get used to the idea, Scully."

She shook her head against his chest, pushing back and gaining the needed
distance to stop her tears.

"No. I. . .It's not that. I just can't even talk to her anymore. She
ignores everything I say, Mulder."

His face blanked and he led her down the hall, frowning.

"What are you talking about?"

"She acts like I. . .like she doesn't need me. Every day, she asks for
you, Mulder. Every time we're alone, she wants to see you. When I offer
her ice cream, she shrugs. When you offer her ice cream, she smiles and
begs for it. I can't. . .can't get it right with her, Mulder."

His face was thunderstruck, hands trembling at her shoulders.

"You. . .you're just sick over the baby, Scully, projecting it on Grace.
That's not true. She loves you."

"But she *adores* you."

Mulder sighed and ran his hands down her sides, eyes slipping shut.

"I don't know what to say to that, Scully. I'm not going to tell you that
I want her to stop adoring me. . . ."

She shook her head. "That's not what I want. I just want to not feel awful
every time she talks to me."

His hands found her bare skin, then slid up her stomach, feather light.

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything. . ." she whispered.

He turned away, but let his hands linger on her body, needing to forget
all the pain, all the grief that waiting brought.

"It'll get better, Scully. It will. She's got to grow up some."

Scully reached out for him then, pushing down the voice in her that
screamed against his words.

It would never get better.
~~~~

Her mother had called, wanting her to talk to someone, knowing that Scully
had a hard time talking to those closest to her, knowing she'd feel like a
burden unloading her fears on her family, who were just as frightened as
her.

So she sat there, facing Father McCue with a trembling smile, telling him
the soft story of how she had made Grace, of her problems with
infertility, and now, the sudden almost miracle.

"I am sorry, Dana," he said softly, patting her hand and offering her a
gentle smile.

"I. . . I guess I'm here because I don't know how to feel, really."

"I'm sure you do feel something, Dana, even if it's just confusion."

"There's confusion. . .I. . .I prayed so long and hard for God to just let
me have one baby, one child of my own, and he sort of did. He gave me
Grace. Her name reflects how I feel. . ."

Father McCue nodded and smiled with recognition. "Grace is a beauty, so
charming and so stubborn too. Just like you."

Scully shook her head softly. "No, maybe in passing. But she's not
biologically mine. She's half of my sister, Melissa."

Her head bowed and she wrapped her hurt back in the wool, pulled it down
into the deepest parts of her.

"Dana. . ." His words were soft, almost tentative. "Nothing happens
outside of God's will."

She raised her head. "Grace was God's will? That I should try for two
years, of pain and sorrow and lost ones to get a little girl who isn't
really my own. . .and then to have this baby growing suddenly within me?
As if God was a little late?"

The father shook his head. "It is all God's will. . .especially Grace,
especially this baby within you now."

Scully closed her eyes. "How? I. . .Even *I* could die with this, Father.
To leave Mulder, and Grace, after such a long hard time creating what we
have. . .How can that be something God would want?"

Father McCue watched her for a long long time.

"The nuances of God's will are vast and confusing, I know, Dana. It's hard
to see why God would let things like this be a part of His will. You
remember Job, and how God let the devil test him, including taking away
his children?"

Scully's mouth dropped. "I'd forgotten how his children were taken. The
story just kind of glosses that over. God rewards him with a bigger family
later. . .and you think it's all okay again."

"If you were to lose this child, but keep Grace, would you think it's all
okay?"

She shook her head violently. "That can't be right. I refuse to believe
that could be God."

"There's a bit of a difference, Dana."

She looked up at him, hands resting splayed on her stomach, as if
protecting the tiny life within her, wondering how this conversation was
supposed to ease her heart.

"I believe that there are two facets to God's will. The things God *wants*
and the things he *allows*. God allowed Job to have his family taken away
from him by the devil. That doesn't mean God's will wasn't being done. It
*was* His will. Just not what He wanted."

Scully stopped rubbing her hands together and stared at the elderly man,
the concept swirling in her mind like water caught in a hurricane.

"He allowed. . ."

"Maybe he allowed you your wish, Dana. Maybe God's letting you have that.
Suppose He wanted you to have Grace. Now He's allowing you to have this
child. And if he allows it to die. . .then there is some greater purpose,
I am sure of it. I know that's not too comforting, but it's there."

"He's allowing this to happen. . .even if He doesn't want it to happen."

She gulped and turned her eyes to the stained glass above the Father's
office, the way the figure of Christ was humbled by thorns and nails and
man's spittle.

She shivered. 

"I can't see how this is going to work out for the better, though. I don't
know of any possible good there could come from this baby dying."

Father McCue sighed and took her hand, placing his other to her slightly
rounded stomach.

"God's eyes see farther than ours. . .little one. . .hasn't this given you
some kind of hope?"

She turned her eyes to the artwork above them, tracing the outline of the
body being raised from the dead, of Christ walking to the woman and
meeting her, outstretched hands still revealing nail scars.

"Hope. . .If my baby is so deformed, so filled with birth defects, what's
to say the next won't be the same? I can't let myself get pregnant again,
Father. That would be cruel. To me, to Mulder, to the unborn baby. To try
only to have it die. . ."

"And, Dana, who's to say that this isn't God's little test run?"

She shivered. "I think that's an awful way of putting it. This is a baby.
. ."

"Who will go to God, should He call for him."

She turned to see him, eyes sharp. "You believe that?"

The man closed his eyes. "How could a child not?"

She sighed and squeezed his hand, still tightly clutching hers.

"My faith does not collapse when faced with situations like yours, little
one."

His next words were quiet, carefully spoken.

"But, my conviction trembles, and I have to remember that His ways are not
my own. No matter how unfair I think this is, whether God allows this or
wants this, He is still far more greater than I."

Scully licked her lip, then bowed her head again, feeling ashamed to look
on the faces of those who believed without reservations, their convictions
framed by light and colored glass.

"I believe because of my doubts, Father McCue. Not in spite of them."

He nodded and blessed her, then kissed her hands very softly, his eyes
troubled.

"So has everyone else, Dana. St. Peter, St. Paul. . .they had moments
where even they turned from God. . .from their Lord. It didn't make them
awful people."

"It made them saints," she whispered.

Smiling softly, she raised her eyes back to the stained glass, seeing now
the faces of gentle astonishment, the hearts that were berating themselves
for not having believed strong enough.

"Whatever happens, cling tightly to your God."

She stood and thanked him, her soul not quite so wrung out, her tears not
as brittle and heart stopping.

This baby was a sign to her. A gift of momentary joy and hope that spoke
of greater things, far reaching things.

She still didn't know if she should try again or not after this baby, if
God was telling her that she wasn't destined to have her own children, or
that she could have as many as she liked.

God could be showing her just how much of a miracle Grace was, or
demonstrating His power, or simply reminding her not to take her family
for granted.

If this child made it, if this baby within her grew and came from her
alive and breathing, no matter the genetic faults or birth defects, it
would be her own.

Another miracle, different from Grace, but no less wonderful, no less
special.
~~~~
~~~~

"He's always teaching them that love creates survivors."
--"Peacemaker" Cowboy Mouth

~~~~

Dr. Bellcamp was looking at them, the results of their amniocentesis in
his hands, done at 14 weeks so that they could settle out some things. The
karyotyping earlier had found Trisomy 18 for sure, and though they'd been
warned, both Mulder and Scully were feeling a little shell shocked.

The doctor leaned forward and took Scully's hand softly, nodding to her as
if trying to reassure her with news that he didn't want to give.

"Dana, Mulder. . .First the happier news. The baby is a boy. . .but the
diagnostic shows that in addition to Trisomy 18, a conginetal heart defect
has been discovered, something called Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome."

Mulder looked to the doctor with questions. "What is that?"

He wasn't waiting for Scully to explain it to him later, mainly because
recently, she'd been more and more withdrawn.

"It's where the left side of the heart is underdeveloped, and that's bad
because it's the left side of the heart that pushes blood to the rest of
the body."

Mulder's face blanked and he looked to Scully, noticing that she was
looking down at her hands.

"We'd like to do an echocardiogram, and get a pediatric cardiologist to
look at it, Dana. We're going to be prepared for this, when it comes, and
we need to discuss your options."

Scully nodded stoicly and Mulder could tell she wanted to cry but wasn't
going to let herself.

He shook the doctor's hand as he left to do some final checking, then
thought for a minute.

"I was reading about Trisomy 18, Scully. It's characterized by multiple
organ malformation. Does that mean there could be other problems? Other
left sides that aren't developed?"

Scully glanced up to him, noticing the ovewhelmed look in his eyes that
matched the sick ache in her, the feeling that nothing could go right.

"Probably. Kidneys, liver, and others. The. . .the bottom of the baby's
feet will turn in, and the fingers will lap over each other. It's not. .
.not the best looking. . ."

She turned her head and blinked back heavy tears, brushing away the ones
that escaped and trying to keep everything in perspective.

"So. . .what does the left side of the heart do, Scully? How's it going to
affect the baby?"

She shook her head. She didn't want to talk about this with him; she
wanted the entire thing to roll off her tight bubble of a world, to slide
away and down, but he was forcing her to deal with this, and she supposed
she would later be grateful.

"The left side pushes blood to the body, like he said."

"What happens if the baby's body doesn't get blood?"

Scully picked at the chair she sat in, leaning on the arm rest, moving in
closer to Mulder's warm body and soft breath.

She tried to be clinical, remembering medical text and cold definitions.

"He'll sort of suffocate, Mulder. Everything just shuts down. It can be
painless sometimes, I think. I'm not too sure. There's medicine you can
give that will make it painless."

"But. . .but what about right now? Is he going to suffocate?"

She shook her head. "Since the baby doesn't use its lungs in the womb,
then he won't have to deal with it until he's born. I don't know much more
than that, Mulder."

He stilled, quiet again, understanding that she wanted to merely sit there
and feel, to let it wash over her, touch her, instead of trying to explain
it to him.

Dr. Bellcamp returned with a man who introduced himself as Dr. Jacobs, a
large man with thin fingers and a steady smile. He talked about surgeries
they could do, a three step procedure, if the baby made it through, which
wasn't gauranteed, and also infant heart transplants.

They could also merely take the baby home and let him die with dignity and
without fuss, taking only a few short days, a week at the most.

Mulder felt that if they got that far, then he was going to fight like
hell to get the surgeries done, to let their baby have as much as a chance
as possible. A heart transplant could be tricky since it was hard to get
donors, and the baby could die while they waited.

He glanced to Scully, and the look on her face showed him something he
didn't want to believe.

She looked resigned, calm, as if she had already made up her mind.

She felt it best to spend as much time with their baby as they could, if
he survived the pregnancy, and to take it home, away from the sterility of
the hospital and the pain of surgery and good-byes.

Every surgery would cost expensive money that they just didn't have, not
after the two years of trying artificial insemination for Grace, and every
surgery would pull them away from their baby.

She wanted to take him home, hold him without tubes and nurses hovering,
and feel his final moments.

She wanted to just let him go. . .peacefully and quietly, no pain or long
good-byes.

Mulder was staring at her in horror.
~~~~

After fighting in the car, they walked into the house in silence, looking
for Grace.

Scully's mother came in then and hugged them both, her sharp eyes catching
their dissent, the tension pushing between them. She gestured to the
kitchen, where Grace was helping her cook them a chicken dinner, knowing
that they were going to be tired.

But Scully shook her head and put a hand briefly over her mouth, feeling
sick for a second.

"I'm going to go on to bed, Mom. Thanks though."

Mulder touched her side, the concern melting away his disgusted attitude
towards her.

She nodded to him, and moved away, heading towards the bathroom. They had
decided to wait until the baby was delivered to actually decide something,
knowing that it was a long shot anyway, and that also, their feelings
could change once they were in the situation.

She slipped her shoes off and threw them in the closet, then shrugged out
of her suit jacket and pants, then the hose. Her stomach was pleasantly
rounded, in a stage she remembered with Grace, her fingers soft along her
skin.

She looked in the mirror as she pulled on a T-shirt and then some shorts.

She still wasn't huge, and the baby would probably never get that big, she
was told, especially considering that her body wouldn't let him get too
big before she would deliver. Her body knew how to protect her, even if it
meant sacrificing the baby. It made her feel like her body was in revolt,
able to do things without her permission.

Like become pregnant in the first place.

She sighed and crawled in to bed, lying on her back and looking up at the
ceiling, noticing the water stain from last week's thunderstorm. It was
oval shaped, and she imagined it looked just like a fetus, all curled up
tight and eyes closed.

There was a little boy in her, a little baby boy who would look like her
and Mulder together, a boy. . .

Knowing that made the entire thing feel worse.

She closed her own eyes, hand along her stomach and body weary.

For awhile, she'd been weary all the time, and her nosebleeds had finally
stopped, but she occasionally grew sick to her stomach, although she
hadn't thrown up. It was scary, because it hadn't been that way with
Grace. Grace had been more normal.

Grace was normal.

Scully sighed and closed her eyes, feeling so incomplete, so empty,
falling toward something she could not stop.

She had thought she'd dealt with the truth of her infertility, with that
awful knowledge that nothing would come from her, nothing of her own to be
joined with Mulder into a beautiful future. She had Grace, and in the
beginning, there was no difference, no feelings of hurt at her own body's
failure.

As their relationship grew further apart, and Scully felt that she was not
needed, a sick knowledge of her own inadequacy grew within her. There was
nothing to stop it, and with this pregnancy, with the hope it gave breifly
then snatched away cruelly, she felt even worse.

It was all compounded by the nature of her and Grace's relationship, and
although she wished to talk to someone, she didn't feel she could. Mulder
didn't understand her position, thought she was overreacting to the
situation, and her mother had only made her feel more guilty because,
evidently, she had acted the same way.

Daddy's girl. 

Grace was her father's, she would have to see that, to understand that it
brought complexities with it, things she had never wanted to face before,
but would have to.

She just didn't have the energy for it now.

She didn't have the energy for anything that required feelings.
~~~~

There was a brush along her arm, a soft whisper of skin that jerked her
awake.

Scully looked up and saw Grace there, her eyes near Scully's face, and her
hand on her mother's shoulder.

"Hey Gracie," she said softly, taking her hand.

"Mommy?"

"Yeah, hon?"

"You won't die will you?"

Scully sighed and pulled her up on the bed, moving her into her side, and
pulling the covers up over her.

"Why do you ask that, Grace?"

"I heard Daddy and Gramma talking about the baby. Mommy, I don't want a
brother. Not if you're going to die."

Scully traced the soft skin of her daughter's face. 

"Baby, there's no certainty for anyone about life. There's a chance for
anyone to die. But I really don't think you need to worry about it."

"Will I need to worry later?"

She shook her head. "No. Not anytime soon. Maybe when your Daddy and I are
hundreds of years old. . ."

Grace smiled tightly, but Scully could see that her daughter was still
upset over something.

"Do you still not want the baby?" she said softly.

Grace turned suddenly, propping her body up to see her mother's eyes.

"But *I'm* the baby. You and Daddy call me the baby."

Scully pushed Grace's hair from her eyes, feeling the softness of its
curl.

"You'll always be our baby, Grace."

"Well, I don't want another one." Her words were sharp and hard.

"Just because you'll have to share being the baby?"

"No." She shook her head and frowned. "Because. . .because. . .I. .
.Mommy. . .I don't want to say something bad. . .but. . ."

Scully felt her eyebrows raise and she touched her daughter's frown.
"Grace, anything. You can tell me anything."

"Daddy is my logical Daddy, right?"

Scully smiled softly. "Biological, right."

"And you're not, but I call you Mommy because you had me and you wanted
me."

"That's right, Gracie."

She felt the sting start in her, deep in her center.

"Well. . .you said that you didn't get help with this baby, so that means
it's logical yours?"

Scully was impressed that she had managed to think in this relationship,
to understand half of what her miracle story meant.

"That's right. The baby is biologically both mine and your Daddy's."

"And I'm not."

Scully frowned, watching the little girl struggle with her thoughts.

"But. . .but will you and Daddy not want me anymore once you have your own
baby?"

Scully felt crushed, and tears coursed rapidly down her face.

"Oh God, Grace. Never never never."

She pulled her daughter down to her, hugging tightly, trying to show
through the fierceness of her hug just how much she wanted her little
girl.

"We will always want you, baby. Always, Gracie. Always."

Grace nodded softly, but she pulled back. "But Daddy said the baby was
special. More special than me. Will Daddy not want me either? Because the
baby is yours logical too?"

Scully couldn't even see the girl's face for her own tears, but she shook
her head and held her tightly.

"Daddy will always want you. We love you, Grace. We love you so much. We
tried so hard for you, baby. Whatever you do, whatever happens, it's
okay."

"A girl at school said you could trade me in if you didn't like me. Do you
think Daddy would trade me in?"

Scully shook her head with a tired smile. "No. Daddy would never trade in
his Gracie. I don't think you can do that anyway. That girl was trying to
make you feel bad."

Grace laid her head down on Scully's shoulder, sighing and clutching her
shirt with tiny fingers.

"Grace?"

Her soft sigh echoed in the room and Scully rubbed her back gently.

"Grace, does it make you feel bad to know that you're not biologically
mine?"

Grace's eyes closed and she shivered. "Yes."

Scully's tears were hardly dry before they began again.

She wrapped both arms around her tight, burying her head into Grace's
embrace.

"Oh baby. I want you to know that no one, *no one* could love you more
than your mommy does. Grace. . .oh Grace, I don't know how to make you
understand."

Grace's face was pressed against her mother and she was crying too.

She drew in a deep sobbing breath and then went still.

"Did the baby move?" she said, her voice almost nonexistent.

Scully smiled. "No. My stomach growled. I didn't eat dinner."

Grace raised up and smiled at her mother. "Then go eat, silly."

Scully smiled and reached out to hug her, sitting up to rock her back and
forth.

"You're mine, Gracie. No matter what your biology is. You're mine. All
mine."

"And Daddy's, too."

Scully laughed. "Right. Most definitely Daddy's. He'd get jealous if I
never shared."

Grace sat up and hopped off the bed, pulling on her hand. "Let's eat,
Mommy."

Scully stood up, balancing herself with the wall, the dizziness catching
her off guard.

Grace led her from the room and she went willingly, an ache for the words
Grace had said, but also feeling that they were beginning to heal again.
~~~~
~~~~

"This is my forty-fifth depressing tune
They're looking for money as they clean my artistic womb
And when I give birth to the child I must take to flight
'cause the black in our pocket won't let us fight a proper fight."
--"Anything" Sixpence None The Richer

~~~~

She was tired, and bored, with the sun stretching its rays for another day
of homebound life, her own weariness betraying her.

Her doctor had pressed upon Mulder to make her take maternity leave, to
get rid of any undue stress upon the baby, upon her health. It was a
precaution that she was felt worthless, especially when she felt no hope
within her, felt no chance of survival anymore.

She shook her head; the depression of being home day in and day out was
making her a little off, a little bitter and sorrowful. Climbing from the
bed and remembering Mulder's lips glancing her forehead as he had left,
she made her way to the living room, looking for another book to read.

She spent most of her time reading novels and true life accounts, and she
had even been so bored as to read some of Mulder's alien abduction
stories, going through old files he'd never relinquished, pouring over the
theories he had penned in the margins.

When he came home with Grace, she was up and awake and happy. Playing GI
Joes with her daughter had become a regular event, with Barbies becoming a
part of the elite team. Scully thought it charming that Grace made the
dolls the people in charge of the 'missions' and that her favorite Barbie
managed to always save her favorite GI Joe. She was sure it said something
about her relationship with Mulder.

They ate dinner, Scully attempting to keep it all down, most times able to
eat everything without feeling too sick. They would then watch television
together, enjoying their time with each other, laughing. Grace was still
dead set against having a brother, and she wouldn't let Scully hold her,
refusing even to talk about it anymore.

Scully still had no idea what to do with her daughter, knowing that while
they were becoming closer in some ways, they were still further apart than
any mother and daughter ought to be. But with the melancholy of the day
threatening her like a rain cloud, and the moments of temporary joy during
the evenings, Scully didn't press anything.

In their room, Mulder and Scully stayed up late into the night, sometimes
into early morning, debating the old files in the storage box under their
bed. She would present logical explanations for the wild and untamed
theories noted in the margins and he would either grimace in embarassment
at having ever written such a thing, or revise his opinion, strengthening
it from the vast knowledge he had attained over the years.

Often times, they would drag out the original case, detailing the notes
and interviews, her mind reviewing the autopsies and medical information,
just as in the old days of the X-Files. She found the nights the best part
of her day, and even though she noticed that Mulder seemed more and more
exhausted, she couldn't bear going to bed.

Because when she woke in the morning, she was alone with her fears, alone
with her grief.

Once, she woke feeling groggy to find Mulder still in bed beside her, at
about one o'clock in the afternoon, after a two in the morning debate over
her most recent rediscovery. Waking him anxiously, she had crawled over
him to help him get dressed and get to work. He had stilled her with a
kiss, explaining that he had called in sick, too exhausted to even drive.
Grace had made it to the bus stop with her lunch, he reassured her.

She'd smiled at him and they'd had a marvelous day, as he took her out to
shop for a few hours, then to dinner.

Scully felt peace settle over her as she thought about that day the other
week. It had been good for them, a way to sublimate all their fears about
the baby, about what would happen to their still tenuous bridge.

She realized she was staring at the book shelf without really noticing
anything on it.

Her eyes travelled over the volumes there, at the combination of her and
Mulder's life contained within not only these shelves, but on bookcases
all over the living room, their bedroom, and the computer room.

The computer room was sort of her room. She had carpetted parts of it
around the computer, and everyone came in to use it now and again, but the
rest of the room held things that were solely and uniquely her own.

She walked softly to that room now, her bare feet chilled on the wooden
floor. The dark navy curtains looked similiar to Grace's blue room at her
mother's house, and the braided rugs were in forest green, dark navy,
light blue, and a soft yellow. The room always seemed to be able to break
down her defenses, crawl right into her and settle there like a beautiful
memory.

She reached the bookcase and ran a hand along the spines, watching the
dust drift down, the way the dark wood of the shelves complimented the
various colors of their books. The dark blue paint on the walls soothed
her and she relaxed.

Her eyes were drawn immediately to their Bible. She smiled, remembering
the day he had held it up, fright in his eyes, asking if he were going to
hell for stealing a Gideon Bible from the motel they had last stayed out.

Out of some kind of reverence, he had made her keep it, saying that it was
his sin, and somehow, that had made her laugh.

She pulled the book down now, the cheap faux leather cracked a bit with
the pressure of the full bookshelf, and the gilded letters rubbed off
almost completely.

Opening it, the pages fell naturally to Genesis. Her eyes drifted lazily
over it and she noticed with a particular feeling of grief that a lot of
the women in this book had been infertile up until God had allowed them
children. They had either prayed, or had a strong faith, and God had given
them a child.

She noticed that usually, God gave the woman only one child. . .and then
their line was complete. With some, there were twins. 

Feeling strange, she read through some of their stories, understanding how
Sarah could laugh with the news that she would bear a son in her old age,
sympathizing with Rachel's frantic cries for a baby, just one baby for her
husband, Jacob, and her. She loved Jacob completely and wanted that
physical reminder of their bond.

Rachel's sister, Leah, was also her husband's wife, given to Jacob in
marriage as a trick, when he thought he was getting Rachel, the one he
loved. Leah gave Jacob lots of children, lots of strong healthy boys to
carry on his inheritance. 

Scully felt these same things in her own life, felt the way a sister could
make her jealous, how Rachel probably looked at those children of her
sister's and begged for one of her own, felt sick that Jacob had
completeness with someone else.

She closed her eys and laid her head back, suddenly weary and aching. She
rubbed her stomach softly and sighed, her own feelings of inadequacy
mirroring Rachel's, knowing the same sick feeling at seeing another's
child in her husband's heart.

Suddenly, she felt anxious, and she opened her eyes, flipping through the
chapters of Genesis, looking out for anything mentioning Rachel. She had
to know how it ended, had to know what happened to this woman so like her.

What she read chilled her to the core.

Rachel gave birth to a baby boy, finally, named Joseph, and Scully
remembered that this was the Joseph with the coat of many colors, and the
dreams that someday his brothers would bow down to him. Then Rachel became
pregnant again, but this time, during a journey, she died during
childbirth.

She named the child Ben-oni as her soul departed, a name that meant, Son
of my Sorrow.

Scully gasped and closed her eyes, feeling the ominous weight of her
belly, the sudden stillness to the air, the intensity of all the moments
ever on earth coming down to that very second of that hour of that day.

It clutched her like fire and she doubled over.

<Mulder>

She trembled, struggled to stand, then collapsed to the floor, a wash of
red staining her room, her blue blue room.
~~~~

Mulder was scratching some notes into a case file report when he felt it.

Sick hurtling fear like a punch to his gut.

He doubled over, his blood rushing to his head and making his vision swim.

He vomitted in the trash can beside his desk, then felt himself crawling
on the floor, curling agianst the cool metal of the desk.

Its chill brought him to his senses, but in a haze of gut wrenching fear,
he saw something just behind his eyelids.

Blood. . .

Red, red blood.

He stood despite the gnawing in him, swaying on his feet.

Calling 9-1-1, Mulder answered the operator's questions over his cell
phone even as he headed for his home, headed for his wife.

He saw blood.

He only saw blood.
~~~~

end of Gamble.
Stay tuned for Guilt
adios
RM