Rift
By RocketMan
lebontrager@iname.com

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is
intended.
WARNING:::::I just saw, for the second time (don't ask me why) Hope
Floats. And it's still awful. I mean, that is the saddest, most pathetic
movie I've ever seen in my life. And the ending has no redemption for it
at all. So, this is a product of all that misery. 
Content:::::MSR, heavy A, Alternate reality--SPOILERS for everything
since I can't remember what's in here.

Thanks goes to Isahunter, for encouragement and . . .email. =-)

~~~~
Rift
~~~~

She shoved the huge binder back into the box, then used her still
pulsing rage to rip the packing tape from the spool and roughly close up
the lid.

Her little girl walked in, mouth turned down, hands frighteningly empty.

She froze in her packing as Mulder walked in behind her.

The girl looked up, then back to her mother, eyes misted, face screwed
up with a look somewhere between gleeful and anguished.

"Mommy," she said softly and ran to her, throwing her arms about Dana's
waist with the force of an atomic bomb, or maybe just a regular natural
disaster.

"Hey, love. Are you packed yet?"

The girl pulled back, glanced once more to Mulder, then clenched tightly
to Scully's hand, pulling apart her fingers.

No more than four and a half, Grace thought she knew just about
everything, had it all figured out. She was soft, though, in word and
deed, with her hair a golden color that changed to red in the summers,
and darker brown in the winters.

Scully saw Mulder in her at every turn, and it hurt, but having her much
loved, much fought for daughter would be worth it.

"Mommy, I'm not going with you."

Scully's eyes narrowed to keep the confusion, the denial from her face.

"What? Where's your stuff, Gracie?"

Grace's eyes shut, her mouth trembled and she pulled back, running to
Mulder.

Mulder sat down in the dining room chair, his face a mask, his hands
occupied with Grace.

"Gracie, Gracie, what. . ."

The look, the very charge and stillness to the air told her.

Blood pooled in her mouth before she even realized that she'd been
biting her bottom lip, and she gasped, and licked it away, raising a
hand to Grace, as if motioning for her to quit playing games.

This wasn't a game.

"I want Daddy. . ." Grace said, her bottom lip quivering, her eyes tear
filled, her hands working in anguish along her cheeks.

Dana felt her world drop from her again, just as it had when it'd
happened, and she slumped to the floor beside her boxes, shaking.

Mulder jumped up, pushed Grace to the side, and pulled her from the
floor, hands gentle and soft.

She let herself relax into him for a moment, then guiltily shook him
off, the pain of his mere touch more than she could bear.

"You want Daddy, huh?"

Grace nodded, running back to her mother and burying her head in between
Scully's legs, sobbing without control.

"Okay," she said softly, realizing she was powerless to dissuade her
little girl. "Okay. You want Daddy. He can come and visit us, Gracie."

Mulder glanced to her wildly, his eyes dark and sorrowed.

She didn't get it.

"No, Mommy, I want to stay with Daddy."

Stay. With her father.

She was going to throw up, right there, throw up all over the moving
boxes and Grace and Mulder and just continue retching until she no
longer existed.

She crumpled into Grace, falling into her arms and crying, the tears
silent and excruciating as her daughter begged to be left.

Left.

"I'm not leaving you, Gracie. I'm not leaving you. I love you baby, more
than anything."

"Please, please, Mommy. I can visit. Mommy please."

Mulder's suddenly tight hand clenched around her upper arm, dragging her
up.

"Scully. . .don't make this harder. Please."

She narrowed her eyes, wanting to hate him, wanting to have that in her,
the ability to stare him down and take Grace away from him.

She couldn't. Oh, God, she still couldn't hate him.

Silently, remotely, she pulled her arms from Grace, put her fist to her
mouth before turning, grabbing a half filled box.

Grace danced to her side, tears cascading freely.

"I'm sorry Mommy. I'm sorry. Please, Mommy."

Se turned, her mouth twisted so she wouldn't cry, her eyes brimming
anyway.

"What's please for, Gracie? I still love you. I will never stop loving
you. This is your choice."

"But you can *stay* Mommy. You can stay. Please?"

Scully sighed, saw Mulder's fright, his startled look of panic.

"No, Grace, I can't. Daddy just wants you."

To her dismay, her words came out choked, horridly wrenched from her
throat like claws were sliding down her sides.

"No!" Grace wailed, and threw herself at her mother, bursting into tears
again.

"Grace. . .Gracie, please, stop it."

Mulder drew her away, up into his arms, rubbing her back, soothing her
as only he could.

Scully watched and realized she should have known this, should have
realized that Grace would want to stay with her father. She loved him to
pieces, adored him, did everything to please him.

This was right, she told herself. This was how it was.

"Gracie. Walk momma to the car?" she said, trying her best to remain
upbeat.

Grace scrambled from Mulder's arms and picked up a lighter box, helping
out.

As Scully passed by, Mulder touched her shoulder.

She turned, wishing again that she could just hate him. Maybe it'd make
it easier.

"I don't. . .didn't want it to happen this way, Scully. But Grace. . .I
love her. You know that. Whenever, wherever, you come by, okay? She
needs you."

Scully shook her head. "I know that, Mulder. She needs both her parents.
I didn't decide on this. You did."

She pulled away, leaving him in the doorway, the confused and helpless
look permanently etched on his face.
~~~~~

The car was packed, her things loaded in, which wasn't much, considering
they'd spent six years or more together, and in one small house.

She'd never been able to pack up and go, always a hindrance with her
childhood family whenever they had to move. She always forgot things,
was always too depressed and moping to pack her things right.

Scully knew she'd drive away from here and wind up missing something.

Besides Grace.

Maybe her toothbrush.

The day was dying, the light spilling over the far away hills with just
enough strength to let her see Grace's face as she came outside.

She was crying, clutching her Daddy though.

"Good bye, Gracie. I'll call you tonight before bedtime."

Gracie nodded and dove again into her mother's legs, sobbing.

Sighing, feeling all the more miserable, Scully squatted down, drawing
her into a fierce embrace.

"Stay Mommy. Stay." she begged, not raising her eyes to meet her
mother's.

Dana wished she could explain to her daughter how it was, explain that
there was nothing in the world that could make Fox Mulder want her.

Nothing at all.

"Sorry, sorry, Gracie. I'm so sorry. This isn't your fault, honey. None
of this is your fault."

"Daddy said that too. You can stay. Maybe Daddy is just kidding."

She gave a snort, and shook her head, still holding onto Gracie for dear
life.

She didn't know how to make this right, how to show Grace that she
wasn't leaving *her* or that she didn't *not* want to stay.

"Grace, if I could stay, don't you think I would? Don't you believe that
I want you with all my being?"

Her words choked on the raw sense of loss and pain that seared through
her. She couldn't breathe.

But she had to go. Mulder didn't want her, her own little girl didn't
either, and she knew that she needed to start over.

Find herself again, not the woman Mulder had molded out of her.

"Good bye, Gracie." 

She slipped out of her daughter's arms and into the front seat of the
old car, starting the engine even as Grace bawled, Mulder holding her
tightly.

It crashed in on her in a wave.

She couldn't do this. She couldn't leave without her baby girl.

She glanced once to Mulder, wishing for all the world that he would just
nod to her, offer that singular glance that, while it might not make
everything okay, would be a sure step to recovery.

He didn't.

She said bye again, this time nothing more than a whisper, and put the
car in gear, biting her lip again.

Grace wiggled down and nearly got run over trying to keep the car from
leaving, but Mulder scooped her up and held her, burying his own tears
in her hair.

She was gone.
~~~~

On the side of the interstate, cars whizzing by like an out of control
merry go round, her own Ford sat, hunkered like a dying animal.

She sobbed, her breath not finding any purchase in her lungs, her hands
shaking too hard to even find her car keys anymore.

She couldn't stop.

The ache was soul deep, and widening the farther she drove.

A rift, swallowing her hole.
~~~~
~~~~
~~~~

She rang the bell, eyes dried and scratchy from her roadside crying,
face smeared with make-up and tears.

Her mother answered immediately, and she just stood there, her car keys
dangling limply from her hand.

"Dana?"

She clamped down on her bottom lip and then choked on a sob, coming into
her mother's arms like a tidal wave.

"It's all my fault," she gasped, sinking down into childhood and
sweetness without a second thought.

"Oh baby, baby," her mother crooned, shoving the door shut with her foot
and leading her daughter into the living room.

"I've ruined everything," Scully whispered and shut her eyes, body
racked with sorrow.
~~~~

Mulder's fingers were cold as he buttoned Grace's sweater; she
complained as his hands brushed her chin and face.

When she was dressed, he went to the thermastat and inched it up a
notch, rubbing his chilled fingers together as Grace watched him.

"I want Mommy," she said pitifully.

Mulder sighed and sat down in the floor, his eyes closing tightly.

"Baby, you know what I said. I wish Mommy could stay. . ."

He angrily throttled the rest of his words, instead drawing her into his
arms with a fierceness he'd never felt before.

Not before Scully.

"I want my Mommy," she whispered.

"I know baby. I know. I want Mommy too."
~~~~

Scully wasn't drunk, though she certainly felt like it, and she wasn't
ill either, although she was pretty sick.

Head hanging over the toilet, she cried a mixture of sweat and tears,
letting her mother's soothing, cool hands give relief to her weariness.

"Dana, tell me what happened, honey. Tell me what's going on."

"He doesn't love me, momma. He's just a different person. . .I'm a
different person. He doesn't love me."

"Dana, stop feeling sorry for yourself-"

"And what?" she growled, head raising so that her mother got a good look
at her misery. "Stop feeling sorry for myself and do what? Find someone
else? There *is* no one else. Mulder and Grace are all I have. And he's
taken them both away from me."

"But baby, you left."

She buried her head in her hands, catching her sobs in her throat.

"Because I caught him, momma. I caught him and he tried to lie to me
first, tried to pass it off. I caught him again. He doesn't want me,
doesn't love me. He finds himself in other women, finds completion apart
from me. No matter how I love him, there's no life in that, no life for
Grace."

"I don't believe that Dana."

"Shut up, momma. I really. . .really don't need this from you," she
said, eyes wet and running over, her face ready to disolve into a self
hatred, self pity that would last a long time.

Mrs. Scully quieted, then reached out and took Dana's body into her
arms, infusing the shaking limbs with warmth and rekindling the fire in
her soul.

"I'm sorry Momma. I failed you so much. . .so much."

"Shh, Dana." she whispered, rocking her child against the cold bathroom
tile. "You've never failed me. I've always been proud of you. Always."

In her misery, Scully did not feel her mother's tears, sliding down and
into her hair, disappearing with the rest.

"It just feels so wrong without him. . . so wrong," she whispered, her
body ready to collapse, mind shutting down.

"I know it does, baby. I know."

With that, Dana succumbed to sleep, her body curled tightly around her
mother, wishing for the world she could be five again.
~~~~

"I'm not going to bed! Mommy said she'd call me!"

Mulder sighed and yanked her arm through the pajama sleeve, then over
her head.

"Just get ready for bed, then Grace."

"Mommy's going to call me. I know she is."

"She wouldn't forget you baby. I know that."

Her twisted, concentrated face had Scully's mannerism, although none of
her physical appearance.

It was amazing how much she could look like Scully, without really being
Scully's. Grace had been a miracle brought to them by billions of
doctors and a million procedures and a thousand tries and a hundred
different genes.

To get one beautiful Grace.

But the strain of it, the terror and fear and never knowing of it, had
pushed them further and further apart. While Grace was only biologically
his and not Scully's, Mulder could not help but see Scully in her every
move, every look. It helped that the egg used to create Grace was from
Melissa Scully, but still, Grace was her mother, without a doubt.

"Daddy, Mommy was very mad at you. She went away."

"That's. . .that's probably right."

"She cried."

Mulder bit his lip, then cleared his throat. "I didn't mean to make her
cry."

"You made her leave?"

"I suppose I helped."

"Why?"

"I don't know, baby. I don't know. Mommy is just very . . . far away."

"Yeah. Sometimes I don't know where she goes."

Mulder glanced at her in surprise. "Where do you think she goes?"

"To a nice place, like Ohio."

Mulder's eyebrow quirked despite the seriousness with which she'd said
Ohio, as if it was a beautiful and holy place.

"Ohio?"

"Yes. Where it snows on Christmas every year."

"Oh, I see. Why do you think Mommy goes to Ohio?"

"Because of the babies."

Mulder fiddled with her hair, pushing it aside, pulling it back,
nervous.

"The babies?"

"The dead ones before me."

Mulder gaped at her reply, but realized he should have known this.
They'd brought Grace up knowing who she was, and what she was.

A miracle.

"You think she goes to Ohio to visit them?"

She giggled. "No, silly. Dead babies aren't in Ohio. They're in heaven."

"Oh. So why Ohio?"

"Because it *snows*," she said, as if everyone should know that.

"Snow reminds Mommy of dead babies?"

"Yes. It's cold and soft and peaceful, like heaven. You know what,
Daddy?"

Mulder shook his head. No telling with this kid.

"I think Mommy wants to go to heaven."

Mulder felt his throat tighten, trying to place her meaning with what he
knew. She surely didn't want to kill herself. . .

"Why's that?"

"She wants to see them. I think Mommy will get to go to heaven. I think
she's an angel."

"I suppose she is, Gracie. I suppose she is."

"I'm still not tired Daddy. Mommy's going to call."

Mulder looked at the clock.

Nine already.

If she was going to call, she should have thirty minutes ago.
~~~~

Scully woke in an explosive lunge off the bathroom floor.

"Grace," she whispered, and scrambled for the door, blindly checking for
the time.

Ten-thirty.

Dialing the phone, nails tapping nervously on her thigh, Scully prayed
Grace wasn't waiting up, wasn't disappointed in her.

She'd let enough people down already.

"Mulder," came the immediate reply.

She swallowed her frustration and answered back. "It's me. . .uh,
Scully."

"I still recognize your voice on the phone, Scully."

She shivered. Saying "it's me" always implied something more friendly,
more personal than what they had right now.

"I - I fell asleep. Is Grace asleep?"

"Yeah, but when I tell her you called, she'll be mad at me for not
letting her talk to you. Let me get her."

She heard him carry the cordless into Grace's room, heard her mumbles as
she came awake, then the little squeal as she grabbed the phone.

"Mommy!" she yelled and Scully could practically feel her mighty hug
through the line.

"Hey, my miracle baby."

"Mommy, I miss you."

"I miss you lots, Gracie."

"Are you coming home tomorrow?"

"No, Gracie, probably not."

"But Daddy misses you too."

She wanted to say something spiteful, wanted to say 'well he should have
thought of that' but she knew Grace did not need that.

And it was partly her fault too. She'd never been good at talking about
things.

"I. . .I know, baby. I miss Daddy too."

And she realized she'd never said anything more true than that.
~~~~

When Mulder heard her words, coming through the phone line like the
sound of bells or gunshots, he knew, knew right then.

He had to make this work, had to fix this rift between them.

When Grace had fallen asleep to the sound of her mother's voice, Mulder
grabbed the phone.

"Scully."

He heard her quick intake, imagined he could even feel her tears, wet on
his cheeks.

"Scully. Just come over tomorrow. Or the next day. We can talk, try to
work on this."

"I thought you were throwing me out," her barb came back melancholy,
bitter, and somehow desolate.

"We just need some time apart."

"If you really think that, then maybe I better not come over."

"Please Scully. Just come see Gracie. She's been begging for you all
afternoon."

"It was her choice, Mulder."

"I know. I don't blame you for that. Just come see her. If you don't
even try to see her, I will blame-"

"Shut up, Mulder. You know perfectly well how much I want my daughter."

"Our daughter."

"Unfortunately, yes."

He sighed. She was angry; she deserved to be.

"Then tomorrow. She'll be ready, you can take her somewhere."

"Thanks for the privelege, Mulder. Will you be dispensing holidays
next?"

"No. No, we'll be okay then."

"I thought we were okay. . ." she whispered, then wished she'd shut her
mouth.

"I'm sorry," he choked, then hung up the phone.

Sinking to the floor, he rubbed his tired eyes.

He just wanted to cry.

Forever.

Maybe move to Ohio.
~~~~
~~~~
~~~~

It seemed Grace would take forever getting her things together.

Scully sucked on her lower lip, then stopped, recognizing the look in
Mulder's eyes. She really wasn't here to aggravate him further.

"Scully, why don't you stay here for awhile?"

"What do you mean?"

"We could sleep in separate rooms. I could sleep on the couch-"

"Mulder. I really can't live with you right now."

"Scully, I thought this would be the right move. I didn't know how much
it would hurt Grace, or you."

"Damnit Mulder." she hissed, shutting her eyes against the tears. "You
weren't really thinking of that before. Why start now?"

"Before?"

"How many women in all, Mulder? Just tell me that. Honestly. I deserve
to know, to have the truth from you just this last time."

He turned away. "No, Scully. That's not going to help any."

"So there were others? Beside the two in the bar."

He growled, wanting to curse at her, wanting to just let her have it, to
pummel her with his own fear and hurt and sickness.

"How many Mulder? Are you going to tell me truth, or is that too much to
expect now? Can I trust you while we work even? Will you be ready to do
your job, or will I have to come get you from some hooker's claws?"

"There were no hookers, Scully. You think I'd screw some hooker and then
come home and screw you?"

She blanched, pulled back into herself again.

He realized he'd said the entirely wrong thing.

"So. . .you actually had the nerve to do that?" Her words were
pain-filled, agonized, as if her worst fears had come true.

"No. No I didn't, Scully. I. . ." He stopped, broke down, slumping to
the couch. "Just one other. Just one."

She nodded as if she'd expected it, but truth was, she hadn't. Hadn't
wanted it either.

"Who?" she said softly, knowing by the extreme guilt covering his face
that it was someone she knew.

"Scully, this isn't going to help us any here-"

"Who. Is. It."

He sighed and then stood. "I won't tell you that, Scully. Not with Grace
right upstairs."

"And sure as hell not when she's down here. Tell me now. I want to know
the truth Mulder. After all this time. . .I just need the truth from
you."

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, then massaged his nose, not
looking her in the eye.

"Diana."

He glanced up only when she made a noise, and found her swaying, eyes
clenched tightly shut, throat working as if she'd throw up.

He wanted to help her, but figured he had no right to touch her.

"Di. . .Diana," she choked out, then sat in the chair behind her,
breathing irregularly through her nose.

He could say nothing. It had been wrong, and a long time ago, before
Grace even, and something he had thought he'd been able to get over.

He was just all wrong for Scully. Hurt her every chance that came to
him. How could he deserve the perfectness of their relationship - even
when it was far from perfect?

"Did Phoebe Green come back in town too, Mulder? Or is that it?"

He felt sick now. "No, just Krycek, Scully. That's all. Oh, and I
screwed an alien too. How about that?"

When her face turned away, he realized she'd been putting on a false
mask of anger, while really dying inside.

Her shoulders shook and he felt rotten and worthless, making her cry,
his strong, strong woman.

"Damnit, Scully. I'm sorry, shit, I'm sorry."

Her back at once stiffened, and she dried her eyes, pulling herself
together more quickly than he liked. If she was crying in front of him,
then at least she was opening up.

"Just, oh God. Just one more thing." she said softly.

He glanced to the stairs, made sure Grace was still out of hearing.

"One thing."

She nodded and composed herself. "Why?"

It was a question ripped from her soul, taken from the deepest shadowy
place within her, and offered to him like a whispered plea for more.

He buried his head in his hands and resolved to tell her the truth.

"In all honesty, which I assume you still want here. . .I don't really
know. Part of it was because I needed to talk to you about everything,
and I felt I couldn't. Part of it, I was tired of trying so hard for
you. Trying all the time to walk on egg shells about having kids, trying
to be sensitive when it hurt too much for you, trying to be there for
you when you weren't even there for me. I know that's what love is
anyway, and I thought. . .I thought I loved you, but nothing was
working. Nothing *is* working."

She made a noise in her throat, like a rabbit caught in a trap, then
wiped at her nose with the back of her hand.

"You're right. Nothing is working. I think we ought to leave it at
that."

"I don't want to leave it at that, but if you're not willing to change,
to talk to me, what can I do?"

She sighed. "Don't blame this one me, Mu-"

He gave a primitive yell in response, cutting her off. "This is my
fault, and your fault. Both of ours. I don't know about you, but I tried
awfully hard for this family, put my life and my whole being into this
family, and I am not giving it up. I'm not willing to have Gracie for
half the time, with three weeks in the summer and every other weekend. I
want her always. I want you always."

She closed her eyes, and he begged God these were the words she needed
to hear, to make her stay.

"How can I live with you Mulder? How can you live with me? We just don't
work anymore."

"No. We work just fine. We don't communicate worth anything. . ."

"What's this right here?"

"A fight, Scully. This is called a fight."

She gave him a tiny smile, one that flashed only in her eyes, and only
for a moment.

"Personally, I don't want to wait for everything to go wrong before we
talk."

"I don't see how this can be saved, Mulder. It's quite painfully clear
you don't need me for more than mother to your child-"

"Scully," he said, shocked, horrified. "Grace is your child too-"

"She's not, Mulder. She is and then she isn't. You know that. You
believe that anyway. Do you know how much it hurts to see that
wistfulness in your eyes when you look at her, knowing I can't give you
that?"

He caught hold of her arms, yanking her to face him.

"Probably just as much as it hurts knowing it's my fault you can't have
children, my fault and nothing else."

With those words frozen between them, the air chilled and frosted, their
breath turned painful and rough, and he stared down into her.

Until Grace jumped down the last three steps and almost on his feet.

"Ready Mommy. Ready, ready ready."

Scully gratefully took her daughter's hand, then her back pack, and led
her away from Mulder, away from the deadly intensity she could feel in
him, in her too.

They were going to say things that could never be repaired.

She turned to him before leaving, sunglasses pushed down over her eyes
to ward off the bright winter sun, to ward off Mulder's gaze.

"I still want to work with you, Mulder. Don't say anything more that
could jeopardize that too."

On those words, she walked away, Grace dancing around her like a
snowflake.

He realized Grace had not kissed him good bye.
~~~~
~~~~
~~~~

He was shaving when it suddenly hit him.

Grace.

Where was he going to take her while he was at work?

Usually, he and Scully would take turns driving her the twenty minutes
out of the way to Margaret Scully's house, where she played away the
morning, slept in the afternoon, and waited until they arrived. 

He was fairly certain he could *not* face her mother at this point. Not
if Scully had told her any of what was going on.

He was just beginning to think this was a 'take your daughter to work
day' when his phone shrilled at him, causing his hand to jump and nick
his chin.

Sighing, he snatched it up, answering with an almost coherent reply.

"Fox," came the voice.

He froze, could feel every nerve in his body scream.

"Ah. . .Mrs. Scully," he stammered.

"I called to let you know that despite what's going on, Fox, I still
want to see my granddaughter every day."

He sank with relief onto the bed, the vast huge empty bed.

"I really, really appreciate this, Mrs. Scully. . .I wasn't too thrilled
about having to take her in with me."

"We can't have that at all. Just come on by at your regular time, Fox."

"Thank you, Mrs. Scully."

But she had already hung up. He wondered how big and generous of a heart
the woman must have, to be calling him and bailing him out after what
he'd done.
~~~~

"Gramma!" Grace shouted upon entering the house, her bag slung over one
shoulder and still thumping the floor.

"Hey, pumpkin," she replied, scooping her up for a hug.

Mulder licked his lips and hedged for the door.

Mrs. Scully saw him trying to slip away and shooed Grace to the bathroom
to wash her hands so they could make cookies.

"Fox," she said softly.

He glanced to her and the guilt shining right through his eyes was
blinding.

"Fox, do you want to talk about any of this?"

He issued a kind of strangled cry and shook his head.

"You know, it's not a very good thing to keep inside."

"I didn't mean to hurt her!" he said explosively, as if the words could
not be contained any longer.

Mrs. Scully's face fell, her eyes showed her own grief. "I know, Fox.
People make mistakes. But with Dana, trust is everything. I think you
know that."

"I know, I know. . ."

He sank to the chair, rubbing his eyes with his hands. He looked like he
hadn't slept, or even really laid down.

She waited patiently, knowing it would be awhile before Grace came back
in; she liked washing her hands with the sparkly soap in the bathroom.

"I. . .I can't ever talk to her, Mrs. Scully. I *need* to talk to her;
she's my best friend. . .and I can't."

She watched the man before her, contorted with his own guilt and grief,
trying to palce these feelings somewhere between it all.

"Is that wrong?" he asked suddenly.

She shook her head. "No, Fox. It's not wrong."

She wanted to tell him that Dana wanted to talk to him just as much,
that her daughter ached to be able to say the things that hurt the most,
but she couldn't tell him that. It wasn't hers to say.

"There are just some walls we never got past, I guess," he said softly.

"I guess so. Maybe it's up to you two to get past those walls, once and
for all."

He nodded. "I should have tried that, instead of. . ."

Mulder blushed furiously, would not look up at her.

"Fox, I know what you've done. And you know what you've done. Let's not
let it choke us."

He nodded, relieved, still unable to look in her eyes. It wasn't an
aplogy, but it was close enough.

"I'd better go. Make sure my desk is still there."

He meant it as a joke, but realized it could very well be true.

She could push him out easily. While they investigated every slightly
paranormal case that came across their desks, they hadn't had the
X-Files in six years.

Just as he reached the door, Mrs. Scully grasped his arm.

"Make her talk to you, Fox. Make her talk."
~~~~

When his desk came into sight, and he saw her, sitting behind her own
desk, he felt a weight rise from him.

Her fingers tapped along the key board and there were no new cases, of
which he was supremely grateful.

Being on the road would not solve this.

As he watched her, he took in every detail of her face, looking for
signs that she had slept just as little as him, that she had spent the
night crying just as he had.

Her face was a mask.

He felt his throat tighten convulsively.

He'd forgotten that. Forgotten how closed off and cold she could be.

He hadn't seen that mask, those walls, in six years.

He missed being able to look in her eyes and know every thought, every
single struggle played out just for him, just to let him in.

So maybe they'd never talked about anything, but at least they'd had
that, the silent communication of their unguarded eyes.

And she'd replaced those walls quickly, efficiently.

Except for the ring. She was still wearing his ring.

He felt a surge of unexpected hope at the sight.

He still wore hers, on a chain around his neck, a slight bump at the
knot of his tie. They had kept their marriage very low profile, told no
one at the office, not even Skinner. She wore her wedding ring on the
wrong hand, and he wore his on a chain.

While they didn't hide the fact, the also didn't flaunt it either. He
wasn't sure anyone would believe him anyway.

Hell, he hardly believed it either.

He hadn't even asked her to marry him really, just told her he was going
to do it, going to take her away somewhere and elope.

Funny thing was, he'd been deadly serious, and she had seen that and
they'd just gone and done it.

No dates, no hand holding stage, no odd late night good bye kisses. 

Just the bond, the tight innertwining of their lives in every respect
but one, and finally, that had come about too.

She still wore his ring.

He could hope.
~~~~

When Scully got to her mother's, Grace was there, playing.

It shocked her, made her feel sick and then happy.

"Gracie?"

Her little Scully eyebrows shot up at the sound and she turned,
shrieking.

"Mommy!"

She gathered her little girl into a tight embrace, Grace's energy and
honest need of her almost overwhelming.

Scully heard the door behind her open, then close again, and just by the
change in the room, the smell or temperature or something, she knew it
was Mulder.

Grace's eyes were squeezed tight, her arms so strongly holding to her
mother that she was almost choking Scully, and she missed her father's
entrance.

Scully walked to the couch and sat down with Grace, hugging her, talking
softly, reveling in the feel of her baby girl.

She realized that no matter whose she was biologically, Grace would
always be hers, forever.

"Scully," came a wrenched voice.

She looked up, saw him there, standing just where she expected him to
be, his eyes tight and drawn, looking as if he had been crying.

She knew he had because so had she.

She closed her eyes and buried her face in Grace's hair.
~~~~
~~~~
~~~~

Dana Scully was weary.

Her feet throbbed in her shoes, blood pounded through her head, and her
muscles clenched under her skin. She wished everything would just go
away for about ten hours, let her sleep without interruptions or
memories or dreams or crying.

Grace danced around the living room, talking out loud as she watched
television and played with My Little Pony. 

Scully knew this side of her came from Melissa, and not Mulder. Melissa
was the one who rambled on and talked nonstop and used to make the
entire house her play room. 

Mulder was a bit too lazy to be galloping around the room, or doing more
than three things at once.

Unless he put his mind to it.

Like having Grace in the first place. Using eggs Melissa had donated so
long ago Margaret had said it was a phase, they had carefully underwent
procedures and surgery to make their baby girl. 

The eggs of her own that Mulder had managed to save had been used up -
on guesses and mistakes and miscarriages and failures. Her last chance
had been only three months along before the blood came rushing from her
in a great wave, at four in the morning, with her sobbing and Mulder
sobbing and nothing they could do.

Depressed, certain nothing would work, God have given her Grace.

Grace.

Her angel and her baby and such a part of her and Mulder that she
couldn't imagine what life had been before her, except the memories of
tears and trials and no triumphs.

Which was why she never wanted to talk about any of it, never wanted to
reopen that still tender wound and expose all the horribleness there.

Couldn't Mulder understand that?

She shifted on the couch.

It was making her dizzy just to watch her little girl, spiraling and
neighing and pretending to be the mother horse scolding her babies.

She closed her eyes and wished Mulder would go away.

But it had begun to sleet outside, the temperature rapidly dropping at
about six thirty, just as they had arrived at her mother's.

She definitely didn't want either of them out in the weather, with the
overpasses slick and slippery, and the ice coating everything.

Still, she wished Mulder would leave her alone. She was her most
defenseless when she was exhausted, and he knew that.

Suddenly, Grace came to a halt, dropping her Pony, and slumped to the
floor, curling up.

And about three seconds later, she was asleep.

Muting the television, Scully smiled and moved to pick her up, taking
her daughter up in her arms and letting her snuggle in close.

She hadn't held Gracie like this since she was sick with bronchitis, and
it felt good to have her pressed so close, making slight noises as she
breathed.

Leaning down, Scully inhaled her scent, the combination of Margaret
Scully's love, baby shampoo, playing all day, and crayons that made her
eyes close.

The couch  offered a good retreat, and she settled easily into its
thick, soft cushions, clicking off the light next to her and leaning her
head back.

She listened to her baby breathe in the darkness, the lamplight from the
street washing over them in soft hues of gold and grey, and the
television's silent blue strobing illuminating Gracie's face.

She sighed, content, relaxed, and wistful, remembering all the times she
and Mulder had sat in the darkness of the nursery, watching their baby
sleep, awed at how she had come from them.

Awed at simply how she had *come.*

Her arms loosened, and Grace turned slightly, pushing her face into her
mother's stomach.

Dana closed her eyes and let sleep seduce her.
~~~~

Mulder sat in the dining room, watching the rain sleeting against the
window panes, ocassionally shimmering as the street lights caught its
descent.

He laid his head on the crook of his arm, tilted to see the rain, the
darkness staining him.

He heard the television suddenly cease blaring and then Margaret Scully
came to the doorway, her body reflected in the window and framed by
light as it trickled in from the kitchen.

"You can stay here tonight, Fox. We'll put Grace in with Dana and you
can have that extra bedroom."

He nodded and lifted his head. "Thanks, Mrs. Scully."

She stayed there, eyeing him as he sighed and rested his head back on
his arm, tracing patterns in the lace tablecloth with a fingernail.

"Fox, anytime you two need to talk, I'll be glad to take Grace."

He smiled a bit. "I'll be sure to take you up on that. First, though,
I've got to get Scully to stay in one place."

Suddenly he felt her hands brush his shoulders, then squeeze his neck.

"This will work out, you'll see. Give her some time to find herself
again, but don't give up, and don't stop letting her know you still love
her. She needs that reassurance more than anything else."

He lifted his head, steepled his hands to his forehead, and gave out a
long, tired breath.

"Let me go say good night," he whispered and pushed out of the chair.
~~~~

The living room was black as he stood there, then it suddenly turned
bright blue as the television came back from commercial.

By its light, he could see them both asleep on the couch, Grace wrapped
in Scully's arms like a baby, her breathing steady and noisy.

He crept forward, then hunkered down by them, reaching out a shaky hand.

His fingers glanced down Grace's long, oval face, then moved firmly
along her forehead, to her hairline, then down her nose. Her soft skin
was like Scully's, he thought, and her lips turned into the same almost
frown.

He gently touched Scully's hand, following the curve of her finger,
along the ridge of her nail, then along her thumb and finally to her
wrist.

She stirred slightly, but her eyes remained closed. He gave Grace a kiss
on the cheek, then moved upward, and his lips glanced against hers.

He sank to the floor.

"What have I done?" he whispered, taking a hand Grace had flung from the
embrace.

"What have I done to my family?"
~~~~

She woke when his presence filled the room, when his body was suddenly
very near to hers.

But she was too tired to open her eyes, too exhausted to speak.

She felt his touch, like a slow sensual blaze of heat, slipping along
her hand. She felt herself sigh and stir, reacting easily to his
fingertips, feeling the arousal blush her skin.

His kiss was feather soft, gentle, unexpected.

And badly needed.

Something she tingled from, something that healed her a bit, something
that let her begin to trust him again.

Then his words, sharp and bitter and sad, wrought in pain from his soul
and sent to hers, fresh and raw and aching.

She opened her eyes, saw him slumped there, tears trailing down his
cheeks, one hand clutching Grace.

How badly she wanted to reach for him, even after everything.

So she did.

She was too weary to stop.

He jerked in surprise, then took the hand she offered, squeezing it,
placing a soft kiss to her palm.

Remaining on the floor, sensing that she still needed space, he held
tightly to her one hand, and to Grace's, smiling despite the tears.

"I'm sorry, Scully. I'm so sorry."

She took a slow breath, letting it out in time to Grace's snuffles.

"I forgive you Mulder. . ."

And yet, she still ached.

She still felt sick.
~~~~
~~~~
~~~~

It was a little chilly in the room, her fingers curled tightly between
her knees to warm them up, and the blanket tucked firmly around Grace's
sleeping form.

Scully shivered and edged closer to her daughter, putting an arm lightly
over her body, kissing the back of her head as it rested on the pillow.

Grace had slept with them when she was sick, her own shivering and
fevered limbs jerking in her sleep, keeping both her and Mulder awake
the entire night.

He'd been so tender, so concerned and hurt by Grace's sickness.

So afraid too, even though it was only bronchitis.

She wished she had him now, breathing loudly over her shoulder to peek
at Grace, his lips slipping down to kiss her softly.

Still cold, she gave up on sleep, despite the weariness tingling through
her whole body, and slipped from between the sheets.

Drawing her arms across her chest, she stood still in the darkness,
goose bumps rising across her skin, and her toes curling as they met the
icey wooden floor.

She pushed open the door and walked softly down the hall, past the room
Mulder was sleeping in, and to the staircase, breathing in the fragrance
of old wood and pine-scented cleaning solution.

She paused at the kitchen door, then pushed it open, intending to warm
up some milk to help her sleep.

She moved soundlessly through the tiled floor to the fridge, then
stopped abruptly by the table, where Mulder sat, slouched over.

"Mulder?"

His head did not come up from the tabletop, and she glided over to him,
lightly placing her hand to the back of his neck.

"Mulder?" she said again, her thumb rubbing along his hair, absorbing
his warmth through her chilled fingers.

He jerked up, blinked and looked at her.

"Scully?"

"What are you doing down here?" she asked, moving to sit across from
him.

"Couldn't sleep."

She gave him an ironic quirk of her lips, the closest to a smile he'd
seen in years.

"You were doing a pretty good job from what I saw."

He gave a sheepish grin and pushed the coffee mug to her. "I put some
stuff in it."

She frowned. "What *stuff*, Mulder?"

He sighed. "Nothing, Scully. Nothing."

She rose, began rummaging through the medicine cabinet, frowning, bottom
lip held between her teeth.

She found the bottle, pulled it out. "Mulder. This is my mother's. It
has specific dosage on it."

"Yeah, well. Don't worry. I put in more than it called for."

"Mulder!"

"She's tiny, Scully. I've taken this stuff before, believe me. What your
mother takes would barely even faze me. You know that. You're a doctor."

She sighed. "Mulder, that's not the point. It's very easy to become
addicted to this. Mulder, it's Demerol!"

"And I feel *no* pain," he grinned, raising his eyebrows.

"And you feel just a bit drunk too."

"Yes, and that's the wonderful side effect. You know, you could be a
hallucination for all I know."

"Well, I'm not."

"Oh. Darn. This isn't going to be pretty at all."

He seemed to be talking to himself, and she gave a long suffering sigh,
then watched him bury his head back in his arms.

"Mulder," she said softly.

His head came up. "Ahh, there's my vision coming to get me now."

"Mulder." Her words were sharper this time.

"Okay, never mind. It *is* really you."

Letting out a tired and frustrated breath, Scully sat down across from
him.

"Mulder, listen to me. I don't want you taking this again, all right?"

"What do you care?"

She bit back the hurt and shook her head.

"Mulder," she started.

"Scully. Not to. . .interrupt. . .I can hardly. . .think. . ." he said
softly.

"That's okay. Don't think. I just want you to promise me you won't take
any Demerol to help you sleep."

"Promise? I thought you didn't trust me," he breathed, his breath
spiking across the table.

She closed her eyes. "I do trust you, Mulder. I trust you not to take
this again if you promise me not to. I trust that you'll never be truly
committed to me. I even trust that you probably won't feel you can tell
me everything-"

"Hold on. Hold on." 

His sleepy eyes came up to regard her angrily, his hand raising as if to
stop her words.

"Don't. Don't even begin to delude yourself into thinking that *I* was
the one who couldn't trust someone else enough to tell them anything.
Scully, I begged you to talk to me."

He rose angrily, pushing away the medicine's hypnotic suggestions of
sleep and dreamlessness.

She followed him. "What are you talking about? Did you ever come out and
say, Scully we need to talk. No. Not once. I thought you didn't care."

"Care? Not care? If I recall, *I* was the one who took you to the
hospital that morning when you started bleeding, *I* was the one who
stayed beside you, who dragged myself to work to make sure we both
wouldn't get fired, who came during my lunch break to take you home, who
tried to get you to *talk* to me about all this."

She stood gaping at him, more angry than upset, more furious than
touched.

"You *left* me there, Mulder. All I wanted was for you to hold me, and
you *left*." 

"You *made* me!" he roared, eyes on fire, fists clenching. "You told me
leave, you were *fine*. Our *baby* had just *died* and you told me to
leave. I hovered all over you, Scully, sick and feeling like I had
swallowed razors, and you just lay there, you pulled away from me every
time I tried to get too close, *you* left *me* out in the cold."

He wasn't expecting it.

She punched him.

In the jaw.

Hard.

He felt the pain explode from his head to his legs, centered there at
his mandible, the rays of it like fire slicing through his skin and
bones.

Staggering, he lifted a hand, maybe to ward off another blow, maybe to
beg her *not* to hit him again, and sank into the chair.

He winced as he felt her hands over him.

"I'm sorry, oh God, Mulder. I'm so sorry. I . . .I didn't mean to hit
you. Not ever."

Eyes closed, he pushed her hands away from him.

"I'm all right."

She stood there, awkwardly in front of him, watching him gently probe
his tender jaw.

He looked up at her, seeing the shame brimming in her eyes, and sighed.

"I guess I deserved that," he said softly.

Two tears made duel tracks down her cheeks. 

"No, no. You don't deserve that at all. I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm so sorry.
I promised myself I'd never make you feel as bad as your mother and
father did. . .I. . ."

She stopped speaking, watching him regard her, wishing she hadn't even
started this conversation, wishing she had stayed in bed next to Grace.

He couldn't believe she had actually hit him.

And not even for a good reason. Just anger that had to be released.

"I'm going to go to bed, Scully."

She bit her lip and moved next to him. "Let me see your eyes, Mulder."

He slipped back into routine, letting her check for a concussion,
following her finger with his eyes.

She nodded and turned to the fridge. "Let me get you some ice."

He nodded, holding his jaw with a light touch.

"Good idea. Wouldn't want to have Grace ask me why my face was all
swollen."

Scully clamped down on the guilt that welled in her and pulled out a
tray of cubes, emptying half of it into a plastic bag, then wrapping
that in a dish towel.

He took it from her with a nod, then moved to the living room. 

She supposed he felt better sleeping on the couch. Old habits and all. . .

"Mulder?"

He turned to face her.

"I'm sorry. About back then. About not listening to you when you were
hurting just as much as I was. . .I should have reached for you instead
of retreating."

His eyes twinkled a bit at her. "If this is your idea of reaching out,
I'm kind of glad you didn't."

She sighed. "You're going to make me feel very guilty over this, aren't
you?"

"Whatever works," he whispered and slipped away from the kitchen, back
into the living room.

She watched him leave, then glanced over at the Demerol, sitting there
innocently.

She scowled.

No one was innocent here.
~~~~

Mulder winced as the ice made his jaw tense, then sat down on the couch,
relishing the solitude and the darkness.

He sighed and wondered again if perhaps he deserved her punch. Probably
so, considering his less than honorable behavior.

He'd been trying to talk to her, trying to work some of it out, trying
to somehow make her understand why all this had happened.

Maybe trying to figure it out himself.

Of course, the conversation was now over.

He should forget trying to reconcile things with her, even though a
thousand punches to the jaw would not deter him from getting his family
back.

Only her stubborn insistence not to *ever* discuss things could keep
them apart.

That and the *affair,* he reminded himself.

How stupid could he have been? Diana, of all people. 

He groaned and laid down on the couch.

He jerked when he felt ice cold fingers brush his forehead.

Opening his eyes, he saw her again, still in the short sleeved
nightgown, still cold.

"Mulder," she whispered, and then sank to her knees beside him.

He just stared at her.

"I figured that by both of us going back to bed, we wouldn't get
anything accomplished. I'm not falling asleep anytime soon. How about
you?"

He sighed and sat up again. "Well, that hit just about wiped out the
Demerol."

She settled onto the couch next to him, still far away enough to not be
touching him.

"So," she said, taking a deep breath. "Let's talk."

He sat there in silence, watching her chew her lip, also silent.

There was the hum of the fridge, the snick of the wooden floorboards as
the house settled, and the low howl of the wind along the house.

She sighed. "Mulder, I don't know how to start."

"Maybe you should hit me again. Then we might both feel better."

She shivered. "Mulder. No. It was wrong for me to hit you. You're my. . . 
my husband. I. . .it was wrong."

"I was wrong to push it."

"No, I think you're right. We never talk. I was being pretty selfish
then. Was. . ." 

She paused, then glanced full force at him, her eyes swimming in the
start of tears.

"Was that when you saw Diana? After that last chance failed?" she
whispered.

She was going to make him talk about it. She was going to rip it from
him and make him hurt her with the truth.

"Yes."

She nodded. "Maybe. . .maybe you should tell me about that."

"Maybe I shouldn't."

She pursed her lips and looked back up at him.

"I think I need to know this."

He sighed, shifting on the couch, not looking to her.

"It was a mistake. All of it. I went to work, was pretty miserable.
Diana called about some X-File, wanting to know where the hell I had
*filed* the thing, and of course, I told her wrong. On purpose."

He gave her a half grin.

She didn't smile back.

"She asked if maybe we could have lunch, talk about the file. The rules
against us have been kind of lax lately, and she said she didn't think
we'd get in trouble going over it."

He paused and looked at her; she was breathing somewhat irregularly.

"I said no. I had to get you at the hospital, I wanted to talk to you.
Hell, I just wanted to curl up next to you and not ever wake up again.
When we got home, I thought about asking you to stop doing this. To stop
trying. I didn't want it to hurt so much anymore. For you, or for me.
But you were tired, and went to bed, and I went in to just hold you. . .
and you pulled away."

She was crying noiselessly, nobly he thought, her tears shiny tracks of
moonsilver in the faint starlight coming through the living room window.

"I know it's no excuse, but I felt abandoned. . .Or maybe I'm trying to
make myself look better in the retelling, who knows. Maybe if I had just
stayed at home, and waited, it would have been all okay. Maybe you would
have turned to me, maybe. . ."

He looked over at her and knew the answer by the guilt shining in her
eyes.

She would not have turned to him.

"I went back to work to hide. And she called again, asking about dinner.
Really needed my input. I was grateful to get my mind off it all. We got
drunk. . .and . . . that's the story."

He sighed and refused to look at her, refused to meet her eyes or watch
her struggle not to hurt.

He'd hurt her so bad in this.

Sneaking a look at her despite his fear, he felt like he'd been punched
again.

Her head was balanced precariously on her drawn up knees, tears wetting
the fabric of her night gown, her shoulders shaking in silent agony.

Wishing she'd accept his comfort, he simply watched, waiting for her
judgment, waiting for some kind of miracle in all the bad that he'd
done.

She turned her head to see him. "That was. . .the only time?"

She prayed he'd lie to her if the truth wasn't something she wanted.

"Only time. I promise, Scully. If you never believe me again, believe
that. I felt awful, disgusting. I couldn't. . .couldn't believe what I'd
done. I put it behind me, promised myself, promised you, I'd never do it
again."

"But you did."

"No. Not with her. And the two in the bar, not all the way. Which I
guess really doesn't count a whole hell of a lot, huh?"

She shook her head. "Not much."

He sighed. "I don't know how to explain it."

She licked her lips, rubbed the tear tracks from her face. "I don't
think I could handle another explanation tonight."

He nodded, feeling beaten, broken. "I don't think I could either."

She rested her chin on her knees, shivered.

Seeing this, he pulled the quilt from the floor and draped it around
her, tucking it in tight.

Her breath caught, then she let out a sort of sob and fell against him,
clutching his shirt.

He immediately put his arms around her, grateful for the miracle of her
action.

"I want to hate you, Mulder. I want to hate you for doing that to us,
but I can't. I can't."

He choked on a mixture of shame and relief. "I'm glad. Maybe we have a
chance."

She nodded and closed her eyes, then pulled back away from him.

Gently, he wiped the tears from her cheeks, the sorrow in his eyes
making her settle into his warmth.

"Why don't you go back to bed, Scully? Get warm."

She nodded, part of her disappointed he hadn't tried anything, part of
her grateful.

It would be a bit crude to try anything after what he had just told her.

And she wouldn't have let him either.

"Good night, Scully."

Leaning forward, he dragged the other blanket off the floor. 

He was surprised when her lips brushed his forehead, and he glanced up
at her as she rose.

"Good night, Mulder."

She vanished into a pool of darkness at the stairs.
~~~~
~~~~
~~~~

She drove.

Grace stayed at her mother's and Scully and Mulder took the same car,
theorizing that it was safer for them to go together, and Scully was a
better driver when it came to hazardous conditions anyway.

They sat in a kind of final silence for the better half of the trip,
Scully focused intently on the road, the crisp whiteness of sleet and
ice and maybe snow that sparkled in the morning light.

Then he made a humming noise with his lips that signalled he wanted to
say something important.

"So, how is it that you're such a better driver in the snow?"

"I learned to drive in Alaska, Mulder," she said calmly, her voice
catching that far away quality that people have when they try to
concentrate on keeping everyone alive and off the side of the road.

"Alaska!"

"Hm. Yes. Fifteen. Dad took me out in the middle of nowhere and said
this was a horrible place to learn, but it was kind of a promise."

"A promise?"

"He promised to teach me to drive the very next time he had shore leave.
This was in Maine, then we moved, and he came back and we were on base
in Barrow, Alaska, which is the most north you can get."

She saw him frown out of the corner of his eye. 

"There's a Naval Base up there?"

She shook her head. "Um, not really. It's called the Naval Arctic
Research Laboratory. I'm not sure what Dad was doing there, something
about a new line of sub, I think."

"Subs in Alaska and you, learning to drive in a field of snow. The man
must have been crazy."

She smiled. "Now that I think about it, yeah. We were there from March
to September, and summer was supposed to be. . .well, summer. Hot.
Instead it was about negative 8 as the high in March, and let's see,
about 24 in May, and 46 in July. I think that was one of the worst
summers of my life."

He grinned. "I've had a couple of those."

They fell silent again and slid into a parking spot in front of the
Hoover building, Scully not willing to risk the multi-tiered parking
garage.

Getting out, Mulder took her hand as she locked the doors, his face
soft.

"Thanks, Scully. I've found out there's a lot about you I don't know
about."

She stilled, fingers icey like the road, but her eyes warm.

"I think we need to fix it," he said.
~~~~

She sat at her desk, bone tired from the exhausting night, from the
intense concentration she needed to drive.

Scully thought of her father teaching her to drive, of his ultimate
trust that she could do it right, even with the snow. He always trusted
her, more than her brothers and sister. She could never be sure why.

And he'd told her, over and over, it's only worth it if you had to work
hard at it. She'd been sitting in the car, freezing, the heater never
quite completely warm in their old Ford station wagon, his huge bulk in
the seat beside her as she had complained. It was too hard, too icey,
too *Alaska* and she wanted to go home.

He knew she'd be miserable if she quit, knew her older brother and
sister would tease her for giving up.

He had made her stay out there, in the cold and soft sleet, made her
finish what she'd started.

And it had been worth it.

Was Mulder worth it?

Maybe not so much Mulder alone being worth it, but her family, her
little girl who needed a father, needed Mulder as her father.

They were worth it, worth the coldness and the sleet and the days when
she simply ached for what had happened, for how she'd closed up inside.

She *liked* how Mulder had made her feel, how his love made her feel
alive and made her feel wanted and needed, and simply, made her *feel.*

Now, she didn't want to feel. And yet, she did. She wanted the goodness
they'd had, the sense that they were digging out a little niche of
warmth amidst all the bad.

Oh, she was tired.

She wanted to lay her head down and simply stop thinking, stop being.

But she needed to think, needed to stop simply *re*acting, and instead,
act.

She needed to straighten out the thoughts cascading wildly through her
head and make some sense of all she felt about this.

First thing:

Mulder had slept with Diana.

She muffled a an almost sob and glanced around at the rows of desks. No
one had noticed.

Maybe here wasn't the ideal spot. She stood, brushed her way past
another agent, and slipped down the hall to the bathrooms, needing space
and bright lights and cleanliness.

"Scully!"

She whipped around, facing Mulder, who had followed her out and into the
smaller hall that branched off into the men's and women's restrooms.

"Scully. I was thinking that maybe we could go straight home tonight,
leave Grace at your mother's and let us talk."

She gaped at him, confused.

"It's a shorter distance and I'd feel better if we weren't driving
around all night, no matter Alaska."

"You want us to talk tonight?" she asked, her back against the wall in
the hallway, the space between them small, too close.

"If you don't mind. Or in the morning. Saturday we can go and get Grace
if the weather's-"

"Wait, a second. Didn't we talk last night?"

He stared at her for a moment. "Don't tell me you think we're fine now."

"No, no we're not. But I really don't know what more can be said."

"I love you, Scully. I don't know what more I *can* say."

She turned her head, fighting tears and anger.

"It's not that easy, Mulder. You. . .we both made some pretty awful
choices, did some pretty wrong things to each other. I just don't see
how we can change those things. I mean, this is how I *am* and I don't
know how to change me."

"I don't want to change you."

"Then what's to stop this from happening again?"

He stared at her, hurt, angry, desperate.

"It won't happen again, Scully. It won't. We'll know what's going on and
we can prevent it."

She shook her head. "Come on, Mulder. You can come up with something
better than that."

It was almost as if they were battling theories again, her the skeptic,
he the believer.

Except this was a battle for their life.

"What's to stop it? Well, I don't know. Maybe the memory of this kind of
pain, this kind of emptiness I have right now. I think that would
definitely make me shut up and sit down."

She shook her head again, anything not to look in his pleading eyes.

"I suppose so. But Mulder, this is how I am. I'm not good with saying
how I feel, I'm not that kind of person. You want to talk about
everything and cry on my shoulder and have me cry with you, but I. . .I
just can't."

"Can't or won't? How much of this is your ultimate lack of trust in me?"

"I *trust* you, Mulder. I trust that you can't seem to find what you
need with me, I trust that you find completion in someone other than
me-"

"Oh, God, no."

He was bright-eyed, doubled over at the waist, like he wanted to throw
up.

"No, that's not how it goes, Scully. Not at all. I don't *sit* there and
think, oh, gee, she's everything Scully *isn't*. I. . .ahh. . ."

He stifled a scream with his fist, shaking. "I so, want to just curse
right now, but I'm not going to. . .god-. . .no."

She was shaking, watching him literally tear himself up over her words.

But she couldn't get it from her mind. "So how does it go, Mulder?"

"What? How does what go?"

The look on her face made him blanch and he pulled away. "No. No, I'm
not going there, Scully. It was a mistake, I was drunk. Which reminds me
never to drink ever again."

She sighed. "I told you it was bad for you."

He gave her a slight, tentative smile, kind of like holding hands with
your girlfriend for the first time.

Her fingers played with his lapel for a moment, then she looked into his
eyes. "Okay. We'll talk. I can do that."

He grinned again, this time more delighted than nervous, and suddenly
swooped down, planting his lips firmly on hers.

Two women chose that very moment to walk out of the bathroom, and
everyone sort of stood there, stunned, until Mulder moved away and let
them pass.

He looked back at her sheepishly, eyes guilty.

"Sorry. . .I. . ."

She just gave him a soft, barely there smile.

"That's gonna be all over the place by the time we get back," she said.

He nodded, then gave off a nervous laugh. "And they'll think it's the
first time."

She smiled. "Hm. . .yeah. That's not going to be any fun."

He nodded for her to lead the way and then stepped in behind her,
fingers firmly along the small of her back.

She relaxed. It made her feel safe.

As they entered the bullpen, with all the desks lined up, half the room
stood and applauded, the other half already standing and whistling.

Mulder blushed and ducked his head, and Scully merely walked back to her
desk, head held high.
~~~~

end
adios
RM