TITLE: Almost Home (1/?)
AUTHOR: Shoshana
EMAIL ADDRESS: shoshana1013@excite.com
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Gossamer, Spookys site, Xemplary,
etc.
SPOILER WARNING: Seventh season episodes through Requiem.
RATING: NC-17 (Most of the story is rated R, NC-17 parts will be
clearly marked)
CONTENT STATEMENT: MSR
CLASSIFICATION: SRA
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully Romance
SUMMARY:  Post ep for Requiem.  Mulder comes back... but he's
missing something.
DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me.    
NOTE:  Thanks to my great beta readers Char, Keleka, Lisa, Paulette,
and Teresa.


Almost Home (1/?)
By Shoshana

February 19th, 2001
Monday
A little after nine p.m.

She didn't have time to grab her weapon before he threw open the
bedroom door and flipped on the light.  She sat up quickly,
immobilized first by fear, then by outright joy.  She opened her
mouth to speak, but was duly interrupted by the intruder.

"Who are you?  What are you doing here?" he barked at her. 
Unbelievably, his handgun was trained on her, aimed right for her
head.   

Scully was lost for words, flabbergasted by his noisy entrance and
inexplicable demands.  She clutched at the bedcovers, frightened not
only for herself, but also for the child within her.

"Mulder?"  Her heart was racing, her stomach was tied in a huge knot
of disbelief.

"You know me?" he asked, his voice crackling with fear and
disorientation.

"I'm Scully, Mulder.  Your partner," she said, as firmly as she
could.  She was finding it difficult to breathe as she choked back
tears.

He finally lowered the gun, partially because of her visible
sincerity, partially because he'd just noticed her rotund belly, the
belly of a very pregnant woman.

He looked at her suspiciously, then walked backward a few steps and
dropped down in the only chair his small bedroom had ever had.  He
dropped the gun on the floor, then combed one hand through his hair
fretfully. 

"Partner, as in...?" he asked, clearly confused by her use of the
term.

"FBI partner, Mulder," she retorted, exasperation seeping into her
tone of voice.  "We are FBI partners."

Perplexed by her statement, he furrowed his brow and stated the
obvious, "But you're in my bed."       

"Yes.  I've been your 'partner' for almost eight years, your best
friend for pretty much all that time, and-- "

"My wife?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"We're not married," she said sadly, looking down at her twisting
hands, avoiding his gaze.  She then lifted her eyes, calling upon
inner strength to assert, "But this is your child.  It was conceived
last August."

He looked at her with complete bewilderment.  He didn't recognize
this woman and he couldn't imagine having a child with *anyone* at
this time of his life.

She'd been trying to stay calm the last few minutes, anxiously
hoping he'd snap out of it. Wanting him to remember who she was, what
they were to one another.  Her whole body ached to welcome him into
her arms.

"You've been gone for five months, Mulder.  You were abducted from
Bellefleur, Oregon.  I don't know how you've found your way back, but
I've been looking for you every day since you disappeared.  I never
gave up hope... "

The tears began to flow now, and she gave up the fight to keep them
back.  She reached over to the nightstand and grabbed some Kleenex,
embarrassed by her breakdown, surprised it hadn't happened sooner
with all the hormones surging through her body.

"Please don't cry," he appealed sympathetically.  He leaned forward
in the chair, wringing his hands involuntarily, as though the slight
movement would help him through this crisis.  His eyes were much
warmer now, compassion replacing the mistrust he'd exhibited just
moments ago.

"You really don't remember, do you, Mulder?" she sobbed, both hands
covering her face in despair.  

She wanted him to come over to the bed and make it right, tell her
it was some elaborate prank, tell her he really knew who she was, and
he knew how much he loved her.

"No, I don't," he replied gravely.

His words stopped her cold, and she regretted her momentary loss of
control.  She sat up as straight as she could against the headboard,
wiping her eyes, trying to regain her composure.
 
"What *do* you know? " she asked.  "How did you get here?"  She
lowered her hands and made nervous circles against her thighs, an
idle gesture to calm her emotions.

"I woke up in the woods in Oregon.  I know that now because I had to
hitchhike to Portland from there.  But the last place I remember
being in before that was New Jersey, on the Appalachian trail, with a
backpack and a pair of binoculars.  It was nighttime and I was
chasing some UFO sightings."

"That sounds typical," she sniffed, a small smile spreading across
her face in spite of her misery.

He smiled back, briefly, but beautiful to her nonetheless.  "I guess
you must know me," he rejoined, his eyes meeting hers.

"You're my partner," she said wistfully.  

A whole host of connotations lingered in her plainspoken words;
neither could ignore them, nor spare comment on them now.  They sat
in uneasy silence for several minutes, contemplating the mess in
which they were embroiled.  Hazel eyes held blue ones, silently
seeking answers to questions he hardly knew how to ask.  

Finally, he forced himself to relax his twisting hands, placing one
on each knee, then resumed his story.  "Anyway, I assumed I'd been
abducted.  I didn't have any other explanation for flying from New
Jersey to Oregon without some kind of 'earthly transportation.'"

She laughed at that, smiling fondly at him when his eyes begged her
for clarification.

"On one of our first cases," she explained, "you said something like
that at the end of it.  It still makes me smile."

"Did you say your name is Scully?" he asked earnestly.

She grimaced, still stinging from the notion he was suffering from
what she *hoped* was temporary amnesia.

"That's what you call me," she confirmed.  "But we've almost always
called each other by our last names.  Ever since you asked me to,
during our first year together."

"What's your first name?"

"Dana," she replied softly, her hands moving to her belly, seeking
to reconnect with the one thing they still seemed to have in common.

"Dana", he repeated, testing her name on his lips.  "May I call you
that?" he asked cautiously.

"If you want.  You did sometimes," she replied shyly.

Mulder caught himself before he asked her the next logical question,
fearful of making an ass of himself.  Of course he had called her
Dana at some time in their relationship; as a term of endearment, or
during pillow talk.  

He studied her closely instead.  She was beautiful, radiantly
healthy in her pregnancy.  Her skin was translucent, her hair thick
and loose and tumbling to her shoulders in silky red waves, and her
eyes were the bluest he'd ever seen.  He was a lucky man to have
her-- if he could only remember her.  And he had yet to address the
worst aspect of his amnesia.

"Scully," he began slowly, deciding it was the only safe form of
address for now, "there's another thing.  I haven't just lost the
last few months of my memory.  I've lost eight years."

She nodded, thoroughly miserable and not bothering to hide it.  "I
know," she answered in a very small voice.  "I assumed as much." 

He took a deep breath and continued in a rush, averting his eyes
from her pain.  "I looked at the newspapers at the airport and
thought I'd got sucked into some kind of time portal or something. 
It was January 1993 when I was in New Jersey.  And I do remember a
rumor around Hoover before I left on my trip; something about a
partner for me..." 

"I was assigned to you in March.  To debunk your work."

He chuckled at that, then asked, "Well, did you?"

She nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips, then
said quite seriously, "I tried to be as objective as possible.  I
didn't have an agenda.  And you opened my eyes to corruption inside
the halls of government.  We still approached all our cases from our
own perspective, but we learned to work together.  We had a very high
solve rate.  We've always been proud of that.  And we discovered a
lot of things that still need to be addressed, even now."

An uncomfortable silence enveloped the darkened room as Scully
retreated into her memories.  Mulder squirmed in his chair as he
considered how to phrase his next question to her.

"Why did you get pregnant, Scully?" he asked quietly.

A look of pain crossed her features and he wanted to retract his
question, but she answered before he could.

"We didn't think I could have children."  She glanced down at her
hands and worried her palm with one thumb.  "It's a very long story. 
One I can't tell you right now."  She lifted both hands to her head,
massaging her temples as she closed her eyes, squinting, as if in
pain.  "There's so much to tell you.  I don't know where to start."

She suddenly jumped, as if startled, and reached for the great mound
of her stomach.  "Ouch!" she gasped, rubbing her belly ruefully where
the stray heel had caught her.  She smiled, unable to suppress her
joy at her condition and the healthy movement of the child within
her.  It wasn't the first time he'd moved so aggressively; she prayed
it was a sign of vigorous good health. She looked back up at Mulder
and beamed with pride.

Mulder hung back shyly, afraid to approach her without permission. 
"Is it the baby?" he asked, a note of wonder in his voice.

She gave a little nod, then extended her hand in invitation.  "Yes. 
Would you like to feel him?"

"Do you want me to?" he asked, still unsure of himself.  

It was clearly his child.  He had no reason to disbelieve her.  But
until he regained his memory, or became more comfortable with this
bizarre situation, he felt as timid as a first-grader with a crush on
the teacher.  

"Of course," she answered.  "Come here."

She motioned him to the side of the bed, indicating he should sit
next to her.  He got up from the chair and staggered a couple steps. 
He'd been on a plane most of the evening and his legs had never
really recovered from being twisted like sardines in a can.

Gingerly, he sat beside her, maintaining a respectful distance
between them.  She smiled at his diffidence, then reached over and
pulled his hand over to the curve of her belly.

"Just let your hand rest here for a few minutes.  He'll kick again,"
she told him.

"It's a boy?"  His voice cracked on the word 'boy,' and he averted
his eyes, staring down at his other free hand.

"Yes.  This baby has had every medical test possible.  DNA,
amniocentesis, you name it, he's had it.  We were worried-- "  

She covered her mouth with one hand and closed her eyes, trying to
decide just how much to reveal at the moment.  If he remembered
nothing of the last eight years... he wouldn't have to feel guilty
about what had happened to her for at least a little while longer. 
Somehow, that was better than the alternative, allowing him to brood
over injustices done to her body because of their work on the
X-Files.

"Did you think there was a problem with birth defects?" he asked
softly.

"I, I thought there might be... anomalies."  She turned away from
him for a few moments, searching for the right words.  "I wasn't
sure," she said finally, trying to be as honest as possible without
shedding too much light for now.  "I'd been told that I was barren." 
 

Mulder's hand rested on her stomach as she spoke, wishing he could
feel something for this woman, but she remained a stranger.  A
lovely, brave stranger who clearly had strong feelings for him.  He
tried to imagine what he'd felt for her after their first meeting in
1993.  He'd probably been in love with her at first sight, knowing
him.  He wanted to ask about that, propriety be damned.

"If we were partners for seven years, when did we..."  

He couldn't finish his sentence.  He knew he was chronologically
close to forty years old and he couldn't bring himself to ask her
when they'd become intimate.  It was much too personal a question to
ask someone you'd only just met.  And *essentially* he'd just met
her, just begun to fall in love with her all over again.  

He knew it wouldn't be so hard to do so.  He'd always wanted to be
loved; always wanted a family for that matter.  If he could only get
a small percentage of his memory back, he hoped it would be all about
his hopes and dreams for her.

She blushed at his query, mentally filling in the missing last
words.  She'd never told him how responsible she'd felt for deferring
their relationship.  After he was abducted, she'd spent many
fruitless hours condemning herself for making him wait so long.  It'd
been evident for years how he felt about her.  She'd been frightened
of the consequences, reluctant to change the status quo.  If she'd
known he'd be taken from her so soon after their first tryst...

"Only recently.  Last April, in fact.  We had some issues to
resolve," she said, trying to avoid going into detail.

She didn't want to get into a discussion about this until later,
much, much later.  There were larger problems to tackle first, like
getting Mulder well again.  She'd studied amnesiac patients in
medical school; it had always interested her.  She was optimistic
about his recovery; she had to be.  She needed the father of her
child with all his faculties intact.  She needed the Mulder who loved
and cherished her.

He was Mulder, of course.  But not Mulder, too.  He didn't have the
benefit of all the years they'd spent together, on the job, on the
road, at home.  He probably didn't have feelings for her, didn't love
her, in his present state of mind.  He was attentive as she spoke,
warming to her every minute they spent together.  But something was
missing, and she yearned for his love more than ever.

He smiled timidly and said, "Don't all couples?  Have issues, I 
mean?"

She smiled wryly, looking up at him through her lashes.  "Yeah, but
we have a few more than most, Mulder.  It's not everybody who has to
contend with a global conspiracy to collaborate with aliens and
colonize the planet."

"You're kidding?  Aren't you?" he asked, after absorbing the initial
shock of her pronouncement.

She chuckled softly and replied, "No, I'm afraid not.  We have more
than our share of challenges, Mulder."  Then softer, very seriously,
she said, "That's why we need to get you well again.  The baby's very
important.  It's all I've had my mind on, other than your
disappearance, these last few months.  But we really need to see why
you can't remember, see if we can do anything about it with hypnosis
or other therapies.  It's one thing to bring you up to speed on the
problems in our lives; it's another to protect you from dangers you
might not even be aware of."

"Like what?" he queried, tilting his head to one side to express his
confusion. 

"You wouldn't know a bad guy from a good guy, would you?  You can't
go back to active duty if you don't know all the players, all the
situations we've encountered.  I guess it might be possible.  You
have such a good memory; you could memorize names, faces.  But, if
anyone were to find out about your memory loss, they might try to
manipulate you."

"So you want to keep it a secret?"  He paused to think, sweeping his
unruly hair off his forehead with his free hand.  "I'm game, if you
are.  It would be difficult, but not impossible.  We'd have to be
careful about getting treatment.  And there'd be situations when
we're not together, when I'd have to play it by ear.  I could
probably wing it if I didn't remember someone, play act a little. 
But I'm sure someone will suspect something eventually."

"We'll just have to have some faith then.  That's all it takes
sometimes, Mulder.  It's sustained us before," she said, pointedly
staring into his concerned hazel eyes.  Eyes she'd missed so much;
she was thrilled to get them back, even with great obstacles looming
on the horizon.

"Oh!" he cried, feeling the baby kick beneath his palm.  He smiled
joyously, and reached over for Scully's hand, ignoring the fact he
couldn't remember conceiving this child with her.  He knew
instinctively this was his child and he wanted to share this moment
with her.  

She squeezed his hand gently, just enough to affirm her feelings,
not so much to scare him off.  He was gentle and sweet, just like the
Mulder she'd fallen in love with over the course of so many years. 
He wasn't running away from this situation; he was leaping right into
it, with the strong resolve she'd witnessed so many times before.

She loved him so much.  She hoped and prayed he'd get his memories
back.  And if he didn't, if it was an impossibility, she begged God
to let him love her with half the passion he'd offered her before.

They had this tiny child to shepherd through the world.  She knew
they would do just about anything to protect him, to shield him from
harm.  She knew Mulder.  And this man was still Mulder, no matter how
many memories had been stolen from him.

She'd seen the happiness in his eyes, the delight on his face, when
he felt the baby move a fraction of an inch.  Presently, his thumb
stroked the knuckles of her hand distractedly, unaware of its affect
on every nerve ending in her body.  Or maybe he did know, in some
subconscious way.  Maybe he could sense how much she loved him,
returning her love in some discreet, small way.

"He's beautiful, Scully," he mused, rescuing her from own meandering
thoughts.

"He is, isn't he?" she smiled back.

He gazed at her, chewing on his lower lip thoughtfully.  She
returned his attention, scrutinizing his face for any clues to his
next move.  His hand never left hers, thumb now drawing tiny circles
on her palm.

He swallowed hard once, then twice.  He felt so much more for this
woman than he had five minutes ago.  He felt closer to her than
anyone he'd ever known in his sometimes miserable life.  

He must know her on some molecular level, some way that had nothing
to do with conscious experience.  He knew he could love her, knew she
already loved him.  He wanted to tell her he'd never leave her again,
never make her worry for five solid months whether or not he was a
dead man.

"His mom is beautiful, too."  The words fell from his lips even as
he thought them, and he felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment.  He
didn't mean to put her on the spot.  What if she felt too awkward in
this situation to receive a compliment from him?  

His eyes dropped to their joined hands, hands which were
communicating better than words would ever suffice.  She squeezed his
hand firmly, then slowly brought it to her lips.  Her kisses were
tenderly given; his whole body craved her as she touched his knuckles
with her soft lips.

"Thank you," she replied.  She lowered their hands to her stomach,
fingers still entwined.

"Scully..." he said, tentatively.

"Yes," she whispered.

"The baby needs a name," he asserted.

"We'll name him.  We have time," she responded.

He bit his lower lip contemplatively, considering how to broach this
subject.  There was no other way; he would have to be direct.

"A last name," he clarified.

"Oh," she said, her lips remaining in the shape of that single
letter of the alphabet.

She appeared to be shocked by his proposal, and he gnawed on his lip
all the more, turning his face to hide his chagrin.  His hand fell
from the top of her stomach and he wished he were dead.

Her hand left his, disentwining their fingers.  He was about to bolt
from the bed, when she caught his face between two strong hands and
held him fast.  Her thumbs stroked his jawline, then his cheeks. 
They settled over his abused lips, chapped from the elements, numb
from his old habit of chewing at them.

She leaned closer to him, her belly a challenge, but no impediment
to her mission.  He was paralyzed by her touch, a frozen man, waiting
for the spring thaw.  She touched her lips to his softly, savoring
what had been denied her so long.

He responded with care, pressing his mouth to hers cautiously,
tasting her like a gourmet.  He didn't dare go any further.  He was
terrified he'd already gone too far.  She made it clear it wasn't his
decision to make when she slipped her tongue between his teeth,
stroking gently against his own.

His arms reached around her back, pulling her close.  She cooed as
he stroked her back and neck, then caressed her lavender scented
hair.  Her smell, her touch, were so essential to him.  It was as
though his subconscious mind recognized her, and was trying to
persuade his intellect to follow through on its impulses.

She ended the kiss, leaning back against the headboard with a sigh.
She scooted six inches to her right, then urged him next to her,
pulling his arm until he slipped beside her on the bed.  She grabbed
his left hand, placing it back on her stomach, then covered it with
her own.

She turned her head and whispered in his ear, "Nothing can keep us
apart.  Nothing."

He wrapped his right arm around her, pressing his lips to her cheek.
He pulled her into the space between his thighs, supporting her
weight with care.  She leaned heavily against his chest, and he
placed both his hands on the curve of her belly.  The pads of his
fingers smoothed up and down its contours, caressing the baby,
caressing her. 

"Everything will be okay," she said softly.

He kissed her hair, then whispered back, "I know."

fin

Almost Home (2/?)
By Shoshana

February 20th, 2001
Tuesday

Bang!  Bang!  Bang!  Something was banging in Mulder's head.  He was
having the oddest dream and he didn't appreciate being disturbed by
that incessant banging.  It involved coming home last night and
discovering a captivating pregnant redhead in his bed, then falling
into a deep, peaceful sleep beside her.

He was so tired, so tired from his hike out of the forest yesterday.
It had taken hours before a car came by to take him to Portland. 
He'd roamed around the airport for hours till his flight took off,
reading every newspaper he could find, trying to figure out why it
was 2001 and not 1993.

He, of all people, would be more inclined to believe in time travel,
of some blip in the space/time continuum.  He didn't panic, because
he knew there was a good reason for every paranormal experience. 
This one was no exception.  

He would stay calm and logical and go straight home to DC.  The best
place to be was his own apartment, where he could use his computer,
watch television and try to track down the Gunmen.

They'd help him sort out what had happened to him.  If he'd been
abducted, if he'd been off in a spaceship for eight long years, he
wouldn't be surprised to find his apartment occupied by some new
tenant.  What he hadn't expected was the presence of a five foot two
beauty great with child, *his* child.

It had completely thrown him at first, until he realized she was
telling him the truth... she was his partner, she was his best
friend, she was carrying his child.  And when he sat next to her on
the bed and felt that child move within her stomach, he knew, in some
elemental way, that it was truly his progeny.

He didn't know Dana Scully, but he felt closer to her than anyone
else on Earth.  He didn't know why, he couldn't *remember* why.  But
there had been an electric current between them from their very first
conversation, the very first touch between them.

He'd felt more and more comfortable in her presence, more and more
convinced that he was where he was supposed to be.  Of course, he
was.  It was his own apartment.  But he didn't recognize all the
furnishings as his own, as if they'd been accumulated over years of
haphazard decorating, Mulderstyle.

The surroundings may have been a mite foreign, but Dana Scully
wasn't.  She was as warm and comforting as a summer breeze, snuggling
up to him in his bed as if she belonged there.  He'd fallen asleep
next to her, his arms around her, one hand zealously protecting the
child they shared.

The banging was getting truly annoying.  It was accompanied by a
woman's frantic voice, "Mulder, Mulder wake up!  There's someone at
the door.  Mulder, let me go so I can get the door!"  

He felt his face flinch as she gently tapped him with her index
finger.  He half-opened one eye cautiously.

It wasn't a dream.  She was very real.  She was very pregnant and
she was getting progressively more annoyed with every second he
ignored her.

He loosened his arms from around her waist, and opened both eyes,
taking stock of the situation.  She jumped out of bed as soon as
he let her go, and he witnessed a flash of red as she ran out of
the room as quickly as her pregnancy would allow.

He heard a man's voice, Skinner's voice.  He remembered Skinner all
right.  He'd just taken over the supervision of the X-Files in
January 1993.  They didn't know each other very well, but Mulder
didn't mind him.  Not yet, anyway.  Skinner hadn't had time to go
through all his expense reports.  He'd probably be livid when he
realized how Mulder was spending government dollars.

The bedroom door opened and closed, and he turned over on his side
as Scully approached the bed, in flannel pajamas and robe; he was
still in his jeans and tee shirt from yesterday.  

He'd taken a shower at some cheap motel near the airport before
leaving Portland.  Even so, he was ready for another one.  The
disorientation of the last twenty-four hours was catching up with
him.  No wonder she had such a hard time waking him up.  

He had no idea where he'd been before waking up in Oregon.  If he'd
been missing for five months, like Scully had told him, he had no
more recollection of that time period than he did of anything since
January 1993.

A less visionary man would be frenetic, angry, agitated.  He felt
exceptionally calm and cool, all things considered.  Odd things had
happened to him before; it was why he had pursued the X-Files so
vehemently.

He knew his ideas sounded like hogwash to most rational people.  He
knew that his theories were difficult, if not impossible to prove. 
But the notion that Dana Scully had stuck by him for the last eight
years vindicated him.  There had to be truth to his excursions into
the paranormal if this apparently sober-minded woman had remained his
partner all these years.

Scully wore a humorless expression as she filled him in on the AD's
arrival. "Skinner says you were spotted at National last night, but
he didn't get word until an hour ago.  He's been trying to reach me
by phone, but I was recharging my cell and I turned off the phone
here by mistake.  He decided to wait until morning because he thought
I needed the rest.  He's making coffee for himself right now and I
told him we'd be out in five minutes.  Right now... if I don't get
into the john in thirty seconds, I'm going to need adult Pampers. 
Wait till I come out and then you can wash up."

She lowered her voice as she leaned closer to the bed.  "And *don't*
go out there until I get back.  I didn't tell him about the amnesia. 
He doesn't need to know if we play our cards right."

She gave in to her need to relieve herself, closing the bathroom
door behind her.  Mulder sat up on the bed, rubbing sleep from his
eyes.  They must have rested for eight hours, surely a record for
him.  It was nine o'clock when he arrived last night, and he vaguely
remembered the glow of his ancient LCD clock before falling asleep. 
It was one item that remained the same in his memory.  He'd
apparently never replaced it, even though it was vintage late
eighties technology.

What was he going to do if he never remembered all these lost years?
He had started an electronic journal before he'd gone off UFO hunting
in New Jersey in 1993.  He'd ask Scully or the guys if they'd found
it on his hard drive.  Certainly they would have looked for one if
they were trying any means to hunt him down.   If it still existed,
he could fill in most of the memory loss within a few days time.  

Whatever else he needed to know could be provided by Scully.  He
trusted her.  He knew he'd never be this involved with a woman again
unless he trusted her implicitly.  He'd been burned by Diana's sudden
flight to Europe, away from him, away from their growing
relationship.  She'd left him a 'Dear John' letter in the summer of
'92; her belongings packed up and spirited away before he got home
from an out of town assignment.

Scully loved him.  She trusted him.  She'd felt safe with him the
minute he explained what had happened.  And stopped aiming his gun at
her head.  He felt awful about that.  Paranoid as always, he had
checked out every room in the apartment before finding her in his
bed.  He hadn't stopped to think that she belonged there, that this
was her temporary home while he was missing.

The toilet flushed, and he jumped out of bed and met Scully at the
door of the washroom.  She'd changed into jeans and a sweatshirt
after quickly washing up and putting on a little makeup.  My God, she
was pretty, he thought.  He must have done something right along the
way.

"I'll entertain Skinner and explain to him everything I know so far.
When you're done, come out and you can fill *both* of us in on the
details.  Just remember not to tell him everything... not even a hint
about the memory loss.  We'll go over to the hospital today and run a
few tests to make sure you're all right and look for implants.  Other
than that, we'll have to wait until tomorrow to see Dr. Werber for
hypnosis."

She pulled on the belt loop of his jeans, bringing him closer to her
in the doorway.  "As your personal physician, I want to make sure
you're A-OK."  She smiled suggestively, and sauntered toward the
bedroom door.

"My personal physician?" he wondered out loud.

She turned around when she reached the door jamb and said, "Your one
and only."

Then she was gone... off to sweet talk their supervisor.

Mulder was aghast.  Had she learned that from him?  He was the
master of sexual innuendo at the FBI academy and beyond.  He'd always
flirted with female agents.  Innocent flirtation of course, never
full-blown sexual harassment.

This very pregnant woman was sexier than any busty model in one of
his Triple X magazines.  He was incredibly turned by her intentional
remark, a bit of innuendo that surprised him and delighted him at the
same time.  How many years had they practiced their banter on one
another until they resolved this palpable sexual tension?

She'd told him last April was the first time they'd been together. 
He chuckled to himself, vowing to discover just how outrageous his
bills at the local video store had been all these years.  No wonder
she'd looked sheepish after telling him.  They must have been
faithful to one another for years, with no sexual involvement.  

He just knew it, could feel it about them.  Aside from
discouragement from the Powers That Be, there must have been other
factors to keep them platonic.  He could only imagine why... until he
got his hands on his journal or asked her to tell him about the
government conspiracy they'd discovered.

First things first, he thought, as he brushed his teeth and washed
his face with the plain terry washcloth.  First he had to convince
Skinner he was all right and fit for duty.

It didn't surprise him that his partner was a medical doctor.  The
FBI recruited agents from all walks of life.  He would have become a
psychologist in private practice if he hadn't joined the FBI.  The
FBI sounded easier when they came calling for him.  It sounded like
he'd be more useful to society as a profiler than a private doctor. 
Little did he imagine how difficult the job would be on his psyche,
how tortured he'd be by his cases.

He'd been delighted to discover the X-Files.  After putting up with
Patterson's crap for several years, he wanted to pursue his own
interests.  He wanted to find his sister and he wasn't going to
accomplish that while working for the BSU.  And it gave him the
opportunity to be his own boss, something he'd been yearning to do.

He wondered if he'd given Scully a hard time when she'd been
partnered with him.  He must have been the Senior Agent, must have
ordered her around like some flunky.  No, that wouldn't have
happened.  She seemed too strong to have obeyed him without question.
She was much too bright and sure of herself to let him get away with
that.  He couldn't wait to find out what she had to say about those
early years.

"MULDER!" she yelled from the other room.  

He ran a comb through his hair, noticing the extra muscle in his
upper body, the lines around his eyes, the maturity of his facial
features.  He was older, eight years older.  This was *real*, this
was really happening to him.  If it had been anyone else, they'd have
been checking into a mental institution.  They hadn't nicknamed him
'Spooky,' for nothing, after all.

He quickly pulled on his sneakers and walked through the bedroom
door to face Skinner.  The AD looked different; he'd always been
balding, it suited him.  But were he and Scully responsible for all
those worry lines on his face?  He hoped not. 

"Hello, sir," he offered, sitting down on the opposite side of his
familiar leather couch.  Thank God it was still there, like it had
always been.

"Mulder.  How are you feeling?  Scully told me you don't seem to be
harmed in any way."

"I feel fine.  I took a shower yesterday and didn't see any evidence
that I was tested, no scars or needle marks.  Naturally, I'll want to
get medical tests, make certain they haven't done any damage... or
given me a little present before dropping me off in the Oregon 
woods."

"You can't remember anything?  Nothing of the last five months?"

Mulder glanced over at Scully.  He shouldn't have, because her
silent admonishment aroused Skinner's suspicions.  She was telling
him something with that look, and Skinner would get to the bottom of
it.  He was all too familiar with his agents' secretive personal
language.  He wasn't privy to all its nuances, but he knew when it
was being utilized.  

"Nothing.  Not a thing," Mulder asserted.  He tried not to reveal
anything more through his body language.  His face was expressionless
as he relaxed into the cushions of the sofa.

"We'll go to see Dr. Werber," Scully interjected.  "Hynopsis may
help him recall where he was, what was done to him... if anything."

"Have you examined Mulder for scars or implants, Agent Scully?"
Skinner asked.

A rosy glow crept over Scully's face, her embarrassment obvious. 
She tried to suppress it, but it was there, whether she liked it or
not.  They hadn't even taken off their clothes last night.  God knows
how long it would be before they could behave like the loving couple
they once had been.

It was difficult to envision Mulder with the same clinical
detachment she'd used before they'd made love.  Despite her little
joke earlier this morning, she realized that Mulder would need some
time to get used to her attentions.  And besides that, she was six
months pregnant.  She didn't think he was all that attracted to her
in her present condition.  She liked to think he was pleased by the
baby, that he felt something for her because of their child.  But she
couldn't imagine him looking at her in a libidinous haze of lust.

"Not yet, sir.  We've slept most of the time since he arrived home
last night," she said flatly.

"Well... go get him checked out by the hospital.  Then, both of you,
take some time off... get out of town.  I don't want Agent Mulder
back on duty until he's completely ready.  And I think you need a
vacation as much as he does, Agent Scully.  No matter how pleased I
am to see you back, Mulder, I'd like to see very little of you the
next few weeks while you recuperate."  

"I'd actually like that, sir.  Especially... because of the baby,"
Mulder replied, a bit abashed.  

It felt so surreal to be discussing this with his boss.  He would
have preferred to have told Walter Skinner months ago, before Scully
was so obviously pregnant.  The AD had grown accustomed to her
physique by now, had accepted their relationship in every respect. 
They would have received a lecture on unprofessional conduct
immediately if Skinner intended to end their partnership.  Instead,
he'd asked them to take some time to relax.

Mulder wasn't sure he could relax.  There was so much he had to 
learn in such a short period of time.  He had to bring himself up 
to speed, absorb all he'd missed the last eight years.  It could be
crucial to their safety.  

No one had to remind him how corrupt the government could be.  He'd
been friends with Byers, Langly, and Frohike since 1989 and knew
they weren't just some kooks investigating dishonesty in the halls of
past and present regimes.  He'd seen things already, things that had
convinced him to conduct his own covert research.  

He'd only scratched the surface of this treachery in 1993.  He was
curious about the global conspiracy Scully had alluded to last night.
He could tell by her tone of voice they'd had unpleasant things
happen to them, things she didn't want to go into right away.  

He wasn't about to risk upsetting her by bringing up the topic. 
He'd read his journal, he'd talk to the guys.  She wasn't a fragile
flower, but she was six months pregnant.  He'd let her decide how
much she wanted to relate to him.  He was certain she wouldn't avoid
the subject forever.

"Yes, that sounds good, sir.  I'd like to spend some time away from
DC.  I think we have some catching up to do," Scully said.

She'd be grateful to get away from her doting mother and
overprotective brother.  He hadn't stopped giving her grief about
Mulder's disappearance since she'd told him about the pregnancy in
October.  He'd called or left e-mail messages begging her to marry a
nice man so the baby would be legitimate.

She finally told him to stop trying to communicate with her in any
way around Thanksgiving.  The only reason they were civil at this
time was due to her mother's machinations, getting them all together
for the holidays.  Bill, to his credit, had apologized profusely and
had promised to help her.  He hadn't said another word about Mulder's
fitness as a father, and he'd tried to get Navy intelligence sources
to help her search for Mulder.

"Well, I'll be getting along then," Skinner said, rising from the
couch.

Scully remained seated, but Mulder rose and escorted the AD to the
door.  They shook hands and said perfunctory words of farewell.

By the time Mulder got back to the living room, Scully was in the
kitchen making coffee and toast.  He didn't know what to say for the
first time all day.  Were they going to live here together?  Were
they going to sleep together every night?  What about the vacation
Skinner had ordered them to take?  They were going together, weren't
they?

"Mulder..." she beckoned.

He poked his head around the arch between the kitchen and living
room and said, "I'm here."

"Why don't you get some butter out?  I forgot it."

"Okay," he replied, crossing to the refrigerator and opening the 
door.

He was astounded at how much fresh food it contained, more than he'd
ever kept.  She must have been living here the whole time, he thought
to himself.  She wanted to be here when he returned.

"Bring it to the table.  I don't know how hungry you are, but I'm
ravenous.  I'm having real cream cheese; the butter's for you," she
said with a smile.

"Heh, I never liked cream cheese, did I?" he jested.

She grinned over her shoulder as she poured two mugs of coffee for
them.

Scully passed the paper to Mulder after pulling the news and leisure
sections for herself.  She was determined to give him as much
normality as possible under the circumstances.  She wanted to allow
him the time to readjust to life with her and the FBI.  Eight o'clock
in the morning was too early to be planning strategy or even talking
about a vacation.  She just wanted to have breakfast with Mulder, to
read the newspaper together like they used to do on Sunday mornings.

After several silent minutes, spent buttering toast and drinking
down the rich Kenyan decaf, Mulder asked, "How do you feel?"

"I'm fine," Scully responded.

She looked up from the paper, and he couldn't resist a smile.  She
was adorable; her glasses made her look like a schoolgirl.  For the
hundredth time that day he asked himself how he'd been so lucky, how
he'd managed to keep her as a partner and court her, too.  

He knew he wasn't the easiest person to live with.  He'd found that
out when Diana moved in.  It was the first time he'd lived with any
of his girlfriends,  the rest always maintaining their own domicile.

Their eventual split-up had convinced him that he'd never find
domestic bliss with anyone.  He'd had a few girlfriends since Diana,
but nothing serious, not even close.  He wondered if there'd been
anyone after he met Scully in 1993.  He was reluctant to ask her.  

Maybe his trio of old friends would fill him in.  He occasionally
would tell them if he was seeing someone.  He must have told them how
he felt about Dana Scully.  Or maybe they knew without asking.  He'd
call them this morning.  They probably knew he was home, knowing
their ability to find out anything about anybody.  Maybe they'd told
Skinner he was seen at National.  He wouldn't be surprised at all.

"What will we do all day?" he asked after they'd both finished their
breakfast and started on their second cups of coffee.

"I have to call Mom.  I should have called her right away, but I
wanted to relax a bit before I talk to her.  She'll be really
excited, Mulder.  She's been very anxious about you lately.  In fact,
she had a dream and you were in it."

"She did?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes.  She told me not to worry.  That you'd be home soon.  She was
right."

"I won't recognize her, will I?"

She shook her head, her expression a bit wistful. 

"I'll show you pictures of all my family before we go see them.  I'm
sure everything will be fine.  I don't think you should worry about
that.  I think we should get the hospital over with today, and
perhaps Dr. Werber tomorrow.  I don't think we should go to Hoover. 
I think we should take Skinner up on his offer and get out of town. 
Your family has a summer cottage.  We'll go up there."

"What about my parents?" he asked innocently.

Her face fell before his eyes.  The sadness there was so deep, he
knew immediately he'd asked the wrong question.  Whatever the answer
was, he needed to know, so he pressed on, "Scully, tell me the truth.
What's happened to them?"

"They're both dead, Mulder," she said, her expression as grave as
he'd seen it so far.

"How?" he choked out.

He was trying to maintain his composure, but he couldn't.  Tears
came unbidden to his eyes and his face scrunched into a miserable
grimace.

Scully got out of her seat, walked behind him and slid her arms
around his neck.  She pressed her cheek against his hair, speaking
softly,  "It won't make sense now.  You'll have to read your journal.
I don't want to tell you how until you've seen that."

"You found it on my computer?" he asked.

"Yes.  I'm so sorry, Mulder.  We had to invade your privacy.  But
you wrote in it frequently.  You wrote down all your thoughts about
our cases.  All your thoughts about me.  You'll understand so much
better when you've read it."

He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her cheek.  She returned
the gesture, then stood up straight so that she could gently knead
the tension from his shoulders.

"I can do that tonight," he said quietly.

"That's what I thought," she agreed.

"Have you always been this way?"

"What way?" she asked.

"So good," he croaked out, his throat constricting with tears.

"Oh, Mulder."

She pulled him to his feet and embraced him fully, or at least as
well as she could with the baby between them.  He nestled his face
against her chest and drew her tightly against him.  She rocked him
like a child as he cried, mourning the death of parents he'd never
really understood or known.

Scully ran her fingers through his hair, trying to soothe away the
sorrow.  She pressed gentle kisses to his forehead, and massaged the
nape of his neck, trying not to cry.  She needed to be strong enough
for both their sakes.   

After several minutes, he quieted and she suggested they get on with
the day.  "Why don't we both get cleaned up and go to the hospital? 
I can call Mom and anyone else from there while they run tests on 
you."

He sniffled softly, trying to regain composure.  He lifted his tear-
streaked face and her heart constricted once again.  "Sure," he
agreed.  "That sounds like a good plan."

She brushed his unruly hair back from his forehead, smiling gently
at him.  "Like I said last night, everything will be okay."

Her lips touched his cheek one more time, and she extricated herself
from his grasp slowly, squeezing his hands before leaving to change
her clothes.  He didn't move until he heard the click of her heels in
the hallway.

fin


Almost Home (3/?)
By Shoshana

February 20th, 2001
Tuesday
Alexandria Hospital
Alexandria, VA

Chaos reigned in the waiting room of the X-Ray department of
Alexandria hospital near Mulder's apartment.  It was unusually
crowded today and small children whined in their mothers' arms or
twisted restlessly in their seats.

Scully struggled to speak into her cell phone while simultaneously
filling out numerous forms for Mulder.  He hadn't been to this
hospital in a very long time and she was trying to fill in the gaps
in his medical history.

She hadn't been able to reach her mom on the way over and refused to
leave a message on the answering machine concerning Mulder's return. 
Now, she'd just gotten through to her mother, and was trying to carry
on a conversation, write, and ignore Mulder's expressions of
astonishment every time she detailed some past medical condition on
paper.

It usually drove her crazy to have people read over her shoulder and
this was no exception.  Mulder was *very* interested in all the
mishaps he'd had, making smart ass comments about each one as she
scribbled them down chronologically.  He was trying hard not to
interfere with her phone call, but couldn't help himself, repeatedly
observing 'No way!' or 'Unbelievable!' after she described each
incident.

Scully paused in her attempt at legible longhand to send Mulder a
warning glare.  She had reached her limit.  Her mom was still sobbing
in her ear, children were screeching all around them, and she was
racking her brain to complete the necessary forms.  

Mulder obliged her by sitting back in his chair, shutting up, and
pouting.  Actually, Scully was thrilled to have him with her.  She'd
sat through too many lonely hours in waiting rooms these last few
months, feeling forlorn about not having him around during her
pregnancy.
  
He was a curious ball of nonstop energy today, talking incessantly
on the way over in the car.  Now, he was inordinately interested in
all the tests they'd been running on him.  He'd never enjoyed
hospitals, and he hated being poked and prodded endlessly, but he was
desperate to find out what had happened to him.

Scully finally said goodbye to her mom, promising they'd try and
come over for dinner Sunday night if they could.  She really doubted
whether it was a good idea to subject Mulder to her family just yet. 
Especially not Bill.  Mulder had no concept how much Bill had
resented him in the past.  

Bill had been livid when he found out she was pregnant, rapidly
concluding it must be Mulder's.  He knew his sister well enough to
know she wasn't promiscuous, and his mother had been dropping strong
hints they were a couple, apparently trying to prepare him for the
inevitable.  

When his mother had told him Mulder was AWOL, Bill was furious,
condemning the agent and begging his sister to find a suitable
husband.  Her reaction to his suggestion was swift and predictable. 
She hung up on him, then refused to speak to him until their mother
had smoothed things over between them.  Bill had calmed down
eventually-- he'd even asked for her forgiveness, offering his
assistance in her search for clues about Mulder.

Still, Scully wasn't ready for Mulder to undergo that particular
familial experience.  He needed time to adjust to his mysterious
amnesia.  He needed time to get used to fatherhood, though he seemed
to be doing a pretty good job so far.

He was exceptionally solicitous of her, opening doors, even car
doors for her.  He'd never been that courteous when they'd first
started working together.  Mulder had always liked touching her,
guiding her silently with the palm of his hand.  But he'd recognized
her need for independence from day one, never treating her like a
china doll.

Now, however, it seemed like he felt every minute with her was a
novelty, a chance to be whatever he hadn't been before.  It would
have bothered Scully more if she wasn't so happy to have him back. 
And she was *very* pregnant; it felt good to be coddled a little.

She glanced over at Mulder, who was slumped in his chair, arms
crossed defensively.  He was staring into space, no doubt thinking
about his shifting tides of fortune.  She nudged his ankle with the
toe of her shoe to get his attention, beaming at him when she got
it.  He returned her smile, sitting straighter in his uncomfortable
plastic seat.

"Wanna call your friends?" she suggested.

"Frohike, et al?  I don't know what to say," he fretted.

"Just tell them you're okay.  They probably already know, but it
would be nice to hear it from the horse's mouth.  They've been
helping me out a lot," she reminded him.

"Well, at least I know who the hell they are.  Do they look pretty
much the same, Scully?  Like three techno-nerds in need of a 
makeover?"

Scully laughed, a rich, beautiful laugh Mulder was already addicted
to.  He grinned back at her, pleased she thought his description was
apt.

"I guess so!  I haven't given it much thought lately.  They are who
they are.  I haven't noticed any radical changes, if that's what you
mean.  Oh, I've been wanting to ask them to be the baby's 
godfathers-- if that's all right with you," she asked.  

Mulder had a sudden image of Frohike, Langley, and Byers at the
baby's christening, all lined up in their best regalia.  Scully had
mentioned going to Mass with her mother every Sunday the last five
months.  He had no objection deferring to her religious preference. 
It was probably better to give their child a spiritual background in
Catholicism rather than giving him nothing at all.  The Mulder family
had avoided choosing between two faiths by not choosing at all.  And
religion seemed a lot more important to Scully than it would ever be
to him.

"Yeah, that sounds fine.  They're good guys."  He reached over and
took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her tender knuckles.  "They
took good care of you, I know."

Scully felt a little overwhelmed by this simple gesture.  They hadn't
held hands or kissed in a public place yet.  Ever.  Not even after
they became involved last April.  They'd continued to act
professionally, only breaking down physical barriers in times of
extreme crisis.

She remembered holding his hand during the tobacco beetle case.  Yet
another instance of her playing Florence Nightingale.  It was
permissible to touch then; it felt odd to have him touch her now. 
She didn't let go of his hand though, at least not until the nurse
called out his name and they headed for the examining room.

Hours later, after dozens of tests were performed and the day slid
into afternoon, they left the hospital for home.  His home, her home,
they were the same now.  Mulder was surprised how easy this was.  He
was assuming a role of husband and father and he'd essentially just
met Scully the previous night.  

He knew there was more to it than that.  She was anchoring him
through this perplexing ordeal.  She'd shown him such patience and
love, and was clearly pleased to have him back.  He knew that even if
they hadn't been romantically involved and this had happened she'd
still be traipsing around to hospitals and doctors' appointments with
him.  

He was grateful to have someone who knew him so well, who could help
him navigate the treacherous waters ahead.  He didn't doubt for one
second there were people who would harm either of them, or their
unborn child, if they knew of his present weakness.  He'd been an
agent long enough to know there was a shadow government operating
beneath the surface of America's institutions.  He just hadn't gotten
around to exposing the seamy underbelly of our most cherished 
establishments.  

He was anxious to get home and read his journal, to find out what
he'd been up to all these years.  Scully had seemed embarrassed about
having violated his privacy by reading it.  The information might
have proved useful but they had no way of knowing until they snooped
around his hard drive.

Perhaps there would be observations about Scully, he thought.  He
wanted to know when he'd first fallen in love with her, when he'd
first told her he loved her.  If he asked her these questions, he'd
only be hearing her side of the story, and charming though that may
be, it wouldn't be from his perspective.

Scully was exhausted by the time they arrived at his apartment, more
so after they prepared and ate some lunch.  She powered up her
laptop and pointed him toward the journal files she had copied off
his home computer.  He'd be much more comfortable reading them on the
couch while she retired to the bedroom. 

The test results were good so far, no signs of physical scarring, no
signs of abuse.  Whatever they'd done to his mind, it had been done
without evident harm.  So far as they knew.  A few tests were still
pending; she'd call about them later this afternoon.  She fell asleep in
the bedroom easily, satisfied with the progress they'd made already.

In the living room, Mulder was pouring over his journals, captivated
by the power of his own words.  Not because he thought they were so
artful or sound, but because he recognized himself in every page of
the journal.  He was an arrogant, cocky son-of-a-bitch too many times
over.  Always taking chances, always leaving Scully in the lurch
while he chased after mysterious informants or false leads.  

He discovered, to his great consternation, that Scully had indeed
been assigned to debunk his work.  However, it seemed like it hadn't
taken long for her to become his closest friend, as well as his
protector.  He'd transcribed her words at the end of one journal 
entry:  'I wouldn't put myself on the line for anyone but you, 
Mulder.'  No extraneous commentary was needed on that simple 
admission of faith and trust.

When he finished the story of her 'abduction,' he had to stop
reading.  There were very few entries during that time.  They were
tersely worded.  They were infinitely sad.  The thought that even her
mother had given up hope, purchasing a headstone before she was
mysteriously returned, tore at his stomach like shards of glass.

He'd deferred to her family's wishes, allowed them to disconnect her
life support.  He'd always thought of himself as an atheist before
that day.  The day she recovered was the day his world view seemed to
shift.  He became an agnostic that day, still not sure whether to
thank God for her recovery, or curse Him for putting her through such
pain.

Mulder only made it through the first year and a half of the details
of their partnership and he already felt like a lucky guy.  He got
up, walked over to the bedroom and spied on her for several minutes,
just revelling in the sight of her.  Watching her sleep peacefully
revived his resolve, and he headed back to the couch to resume his
study.

The next major stumbling block came hours later.  In the fourth year
of their partnership Scully developed cancer, like the other MUFON
abductees.  He'd managed to read through accounts of his father's and
her sister's deaths without falling apart.  But when he got to
Scully's struggle to remain at work, to discover who'd done these
things to her... he felt lost.  

He could deal with monsters, both human and fantastical ones.  He'd
seen plenty of strange things during his years with the BSU.  It was
all just a different variation on a theme.

But her illness was different somehow.  He was clearly in love with
her by then.  He didn't articulate it in so many words, but the
affection he felt for Scully was imbued in every word he wrote.  

And he'd outlined what he planned to do if she died.  He intended to
take the Smoking Man and as many of his cronies out at once.  A
suicide mission, so he wouldn't have to pull the trigger himself. 
He'd been very clear on this-- he wasn't planning on staying alive
very long after her funeral.

He didn't finish reading all the details.  Intellectually, his
curiosity wanted him to press further, to find out what had cured her
cancer.   Emotionally, he was too drained to continue. 

How could he deal with the guilt of putting her through all this? 
How *had* he dealt with it?  And she'd stayed with him, even after
her recovery.  Had she loved him as much as he'd loved her?

The diary never speculated on whether she loved him, but his
devotion to her was obvious, especially after she'd become so ill. 
He'd admitted he couldn't live without her, that he'd rather die than
continue on.  

But he'd never written down the words 'I love her.'  He wondered if
he'd ever told her he loved her in the past year.  He'd never taken
that declaration lightly, only saying it to Phoebe and Diana.  Both
failed relationships, both lessons learned.

He didn't know if he had the guts to ask her if he'd ever said those 
words.  He didn't know if he could tell her he loved her now.  It 
might be disingenous on his part to say so, even if he knew he'd 
loved her in the past, and thought he wanted to love her in the 
future.

He laid down on the couch, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun
with his forearm.  Just a nap, just until she woke up and called the
hospital back.  The verdict was still out on his physical health, so
he might as well work on regaining some of his elusive mental health,
too.

An hour later, he woke to the sound of her subdued voice speaking on
the phone in the next room.  He opened his eyes and checked the
time:  four o'clock.  Stretching his arms and shaking out aches and
pains he couldn't remember acquiring over the years, Mulder sat up
and turned on the news with the sound off.

He hadn't even attempted to catch up with world and national events.
He was having enough trouble keeping up with major developments in
his own life, much less on a grander scale.  And anyhow, it was more
of the same.  No matter who was in power, the same deceitful game
played continually behind the scenes.

He was just getting up to make coffee when Scully walked in, rubbing
her eye with one hand and carrying her cell phone with the other. 
She motioned him back to the couch and sat beside him there.  Her
expression was quite serious and he steadied himself, expecting bad
news.

She noticed his uncertainty and smiled once, then grasped his hand,
twining their fingers together.

"Hey," she said softly.  "Did you nap?  You look like you just woke
up."

"Yeah, I read as long as I could and dozed off around three."

"How far did you get in the diary?" she asked, a trace of concern in
her eyes.

He half-smiled, then lowered his eyes to their hands.  "1997."

"That's pretty far," she said, repressing her desire to ask him
exactly how far he'd gotten in the narrative.

"I was highly motivated.  I had a lot to catch up on.  And now-- 
now I know why I have something to return to you," he said
mysteriously, retrieving his wallet from the coffee table.

She waited patiently for him to dig in the depths of his wallet.  He
pulled out her small gold cross, still attached to its chain.  She'd
noticed it wasn't on him minutes after he'd arrived last night, but
she couldn't bring herself to mention its loss at the time.

If he truly had amnesia, he would have had no memory of the
necklace, no idea how much it had meant to them over the years. 
She'd decided to wait until he'd read through the diary, quite
certain he'd connect all the dots and either tell her he'd lost it or
return it to her.

"This is yours, I believe," he smiled.  He gestured with his
forefinger for her to turn away from him so he could secure it around
her neck, where it belonged.

"You held on to it," she said, smiling back at him.  "I'm not
surprised."

"I didn't know why I was wearing it when I woke up Monday in Oregon.
I had no clue who'd given it to me, but I felt compelled to tuck it
away some place safe.  A strong feeling it belonged to someone
important to me.  And then today, I read about finding it in Duane
Barry's car, after you were abducted.  Then I knew what made me hold
on to it so carefully."

Covering her hands with his own, he closed the distance between them
so he could brush her lips with one chaste kiss.  He pulled back to
admire the cross around her neck, satisfied he'd returned it to its
rightful owner.  

It had puzzled him when he'd found it around his neck in the woods
of the Pacific Northwest.  He didn't like to wear jewelry, and had
never worn a religious symbol of any kind.  It was so delicate, it
seemed more appropriate for a woman.  He'd wondered if he'd met
someone the night before, someone he couldn't remember.

After he'd hitchhiked to the airport and discovered that it was
2001, not 1993, the origin of the pendant became the least of his
worries.  He was so anxious to get back to DC and discover whether he
still had an apartment or not, the item had slipped his mind.  The
journal had jogged his memory that afternoon, and he'd planned on
returning it to Scully as soon as possible.

She beamed back at him, then lowered her eyes to the piece of 
gold, bringing her hand up to finger it.  

"It brought you back to me, Mulder," she asserted, lifting his hand
to cover her own on the charm.  "I know it."

She brought his hand up to her lips and kissed it softly, then
gently lowered it to his side.  She smiled briefly, then hesitated,
as if she had something unpleasant to say.

"Well, I talked to the hospital just now.  And I have good news and
bad news.  The good news is you're in perfectly good health, if a
little underweight.  The bad news is... you're in perfect health and
they can't find a damn thing wrong with you."

He chuckled, then slouched down low in the couch cushions.

"Damn," he swore.

"If you were taken, Mulder... if you were on an alien ship... their
technology must be so advanced.  They could have done some kind of
mind swipe without leaving a trace," she said solemnly.

"Jesus, Scully!  What happened to my skeptical partner from 1993? 
Alien technology.  Mind swipes.  You sound like one of the Lone
Gunmen!"

She giggled at his emphatic reaction, and leaned back into the
cushions next to him.

"I don't know, Mulder.  It got awfully hard to deny these 
things after a while."

"When I asked you if you believed in the existence of
extraterrestrials at our first meeting, you said, 'No-- given the
distances needed to travel from the far reaches of space, the energy
requirements would exceed a spacecraft's capabilities.'  I can only
guess if I quoted you correctly on that.  That's what was in my
journal."

"Oh, you were absolutely right.  You remembered every word I said. 
Mulder, I've read most of those files.  You've always had an amazing
memory for our arguments."

She smiled and put both her hands on top of her tummy, a contented
look on her face.

"May I?" he asked, raising his hand above hers.

"Sure."

He placed his hand next to hers, idly stroking his thumb against the
fabric of her maternity blouse.

"Scully..."

"Yeah?"  she said, her eyes closed, relaxing into his touch.

"Does your family hate my guts?" he asked quietly.

Her eyes flew open, and she clasped his hand within both of hers,
pressing them to the living symbol of their love for one another.  

Her eyes were determined and fiery as she said,  "No, Mulder.  They
don't and they never will.  You're my family now, and don't you
forget it!  Nobody can change the past.  Things happen.  I could have
been partnered with someone else and been a dead woman by now.  I was
afraid you'd see things that way after reading your journal.  Don't
you forget how much we need you!  Both of us."

She was crying in spite of herself, and she used one hand to brush
tears from her eyes.  He was speechless, distressed that he'd made
her cry.  He moved closer to her and brought his hand to her right
cheek, catching tears with his fingertips.

She leaned into his hand and kissed his palm, a warm, wet kiss that
sent electricity through his whole body.

"Please, don't cry, Scully.  I seem to have a knack for asking
things the wrong way.  Scully, I haven't had a family for so long,
just pieces of one.  I don't know what it's like to have a happy
family."

"Well, you better learn fast," she warned, smiling softly as she
continued to hold his hand to her cheek.  "We're going to have our
own soon."

"I just can't believe you've stuck with me all these years.  What
have I done for you except give you misery?"

He was shedding tears also, and she reached up to swipe them off his
cheek.

"That's not true!" she assured him.  "You have to believe that's not
true.  You've made me very happy.  I've had a wonderful life with
you.  I would never have seen or done so many things without you. 
You deserve a family.  You deserve a good life.  *We* deserve it. 
Don't even try to argue that point with me."

She opened her arms, beckoning him closer.  He wrapped his long arms
around her, holding her tight to his chest as their mutual tears
gradually dissipated.

"Scully?" he rasped out against the silk of her hair.

"Yeah?"

"Did I ever tell you I loved you?"

She emitted a small shocked gasp, then took both of her hands and
framed his face so he had no choice but to look at her.  

She grinned at him keenly, then said, "The first time, I didn't
believe you.  You were in the hospital on Demerol.  But, last year,
after we first made love-- "

He smiled sheepishly, then said, "Would you believe me now?  If I
told you I think I may be falling in love with you again?"

She couldn't think of a thing to say in response.  Instead, she
pulled him close, lavishing kisses over his face, in his hair, down
the side of his neck.

"I love you, Mulder," she whispered into his ear.  She slid her head
to his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist.

"I think I can't help but love you," he whispered back.   

fin

Almost Home (4/?)
By Shoshana

February 20th, 2001
Tuesday
4:15 p.m.

Scully shifted in his arms and lifted her head from his chest so she
could place a soft kiss on his cheek.  He shyly reciprocated with a
light peck to her forehead.  Even after the heartfelt declaration
he'd just made, he felt a little awkward about pressing her for any
more intimacy beyond kisses.  

It didn't seem proper, somehow, since he still didn't have any clear
memory of being with her physically.  Mulder only knew he belonged
here, with Scully, with their developing child.  Whatever evolved
between them would be totally natural, blossoming as they spent more
time in each other's company.  

There was no reason to rush into a situation for which neither of
them was prepared.  She'd missed him so much the last five months,
but she didn't feel compelled to hasten their physical reunion.  To
tell the truth, she felt a little self-conscious about her pregnant
physique.  That, coupled with the fact Mulder couldn't remember what
she looked like before her pregnancy, gave her pause.  

She knew it had never been just sex between them; they'd bonded
spiritually and mentally long before they'd become lovers.  She 
sensed he was arresting his own desire now for similar reasons.  Or
maybe he was just being exceptionally polite.  It was in accordance
with what she knew of his character; he'd never demanded more than
she could offer him, even when she knew damn well he was falling in 
love with her. 

She suddenly felt confined by the four walls of his dimly lit
apartment.  They'd been a constant comfort to her all the time he was
missing.  Now he was home, she wanted to leave her cozy retreat
and catch the last rays of sunlight from a nearby park bench.

She pulled back from him a little and said, "Why don't we get out of
here for awhile, Mulder?  I'm sure the rest of your journal will be
there when we get back.  I'd like to take a walk and stretch my legs.
I spend too much time off my feet and behind a desk as it is."

Mulder smiled and brushed her cheek lightly with his fingertips, his
eyes conveying agreement.  He stood up, chivalrously offering her
his hand. 
She took it, more than gladly; it was nice to have his help after so
many weeks of struggling to her feet on her own.  He wasn't being
oversolicitous; he was just being Mulder.  And she was delighted to
have him home.

*******
An hour later

Mulder shifted his weight from one foot to the other, waiting for
Scully outside the women's restroom in the park.  He'd discovered
earlier in the day just how often expectant women take bathroom
breaks, so this stop was not unexpected.

The day had proven remarkably nice for February, no snow on the
ground and reasonably dry, but a brisk breeze was beginning to pick
up, scattering stray bits and pieces of dead leaves and random debris
in a swirling path before them.  He wanted to get back to his
apartment so he and Scully could have something warm to drink and
continue to become reacquainted with each other.

Scully had already made an appointment for him to see Dr. Heitz
Werber tomorrow afternoon, and he anticipated the session with a
mixture of hope and dread.  He'd been to the hypnotherapist many
years ago, in early attempts to recover memories of the night his
sister was abducted.  

Scully hadn't told him whether or not she knew of Samantha's fate. 
He suspected she did, and it wasn't something he wanted to get into
on their pleasant walk through the park.  Even though it was fast
approaching twilight, the paths were well lit and quite a few people
were jogging or strolling in their winter garb.  

It felt so normal; so typically suburban.  He and the missus out for
an evening stroll.  Of course, she wasn't his wife.  Not quite yet. 
And they weren't ordinary people.  He'd just been returned from alien
hands, possibly from the bowels of a spaceship, and tomorrow he was
going to undergo hypnotic regression to discover what had destroyed
his memories.

He was interrupted from his study of the ground by a sudden shift
in the shadows around him.  He looked up to find a man with cat-green
eyes not ten feet away from him, watching him closely.  Mulder
didn't recognize the man, but he knew instinctively this was someone
malevolent.  The man's gaze was venomous; obviously this was not one
of his FBI pals.

Mulder returned the man's stare as he surreptitiously inched the hem
of his black leather jacket away from his hip, revealing a SIG in its
holster.  He was damn happy he'd insisted on bringing it.  It wasn't
the gun he'd had when he was abducted.  He didn't have a clue where
that one was.  

He'd been returned with all his personal possessions, wallet, credit
cards, etc., but not his weapon.  This was the first gun he'd ever
been issued, and he'd apparently kept it around after receiving a
newer model.  He'd remembered where this one was, and loaded the clip
before they'd left for their walk.

Mulder and the strange man continued their staring contest for
several long minutes before the other man finally moved closer. 
Mulder noticed a flash of synthetic material between the edge of the 
man's black glove and the hem of his coat sleeve.  He knew who this 
was.

This was Krycek, the man who had lost his arm in Russia, the man who
had aided and abetted in Scully's abduction.  The man who may have
killed Mulder's father, may have stood by as Melissa Scully bled to
death on Scully's hardwood floor.

He wanted to kill the bastard, but checked the impulse, mindful of
Scully's close proximity, and the public setting.  He put his hands
on his hips and spoke first, anxious to demonstrate he wasn't at all
cowed by this knave.

"Can I help you?" he drawled sarcastically.

Krycek remained silent, not because he didn't have a smart ass
retort on the tip of his tongue, but because Scully emerged from the
washroom.  

'If looks could kill,' was not a tired cliche this time.  She
quickly observed the tableau, taking in Mulder's stance, his gun on
his hip, his overall attitude.

Krycek had his hands in plain sight and made no movement for a
weapon.  She eyed him carefully, then asked, "What are you doing
here, Krycek?  Haven't you done enough harm already?"

Krycek smiled deviously, scratching the ground with his toe and
calmly avoiding her steely glare.

"Contrary to popular opinion, Agent Scully, I had nothing to do with
Mulder's abduction." 

"Hell," he snorted, then continued, "If I'd known that Wonder Boy
was going to stick his hand in the wrong place again, I would have
warned him to be more careful."

"You're a fucking asshole, you know that, Krycek?" Scully replied
coolly.

Mulder hung back, a little alarmed at her use of profanity.  It
seemed so uncharacteristic of her.  But he'd only been around a
deliriously happy Scully since he'd returned to DC, not the callous
Federal Agent she was on the job.  Diana had been tough too,
especially when it came to defending her own.

He already knew Scully was definitely not some delicate flower,
even in her present condition.  He'd gathered as much from reading
his journal-- but seeing was believing and he'd become a true
believer in the last few minutes.  Why should he think anything else?
Especially after all the tragedy she'd endured while partnered with
him.

His head was preaching patience, while his Y chromosomes were
kicking in with a vengeance, commanding him to protect this woman,
his woman.  He swiftly moved in front of her, one hand shielding her,
the other unholstering his gun.

"Mulder!" she protested behind his back.  Goddamn his machismo, she
thought.  She knew she could hold her own in a war of words with
Krycek.  And that's all Krycek was anymore, full of blathering
threats.  At least, that's what she'd chosen to believe.  He hadn't
approached her once in all these months Mulder had been lost to her.

Krycek grinned snidely, mildly surprised at Mulder's protectiveness.
He'd imagined the aliens had done something to Mulder's brain over
the last few months, but he didn't think Mulder would pull a gun on
him so soon.  He had anticipated a few minutes grace period.  After
all, they'd been almost cordial the day he'd left for Bellefleur with
Skinner.

"I thought you'd at least give me a chance for a few words before
you took a shot at me, Mulder," Krycek smirked.  "I have a warning 
for you.  Both of you.  But I won't tell you a thing unless you put 
that gun away."

He stepped back slowly, his hands in plain sight.  It was a
reasonable assumption by the two agents that he'd had something to do
with Mulder's disappearance.  But it wasn't true.  He hadn't known
about the anomalous brain activity in all the other abductees.  

Krycek was aware Mulder had experienced aberrant brain waves during 
his illness in October 1999.  But he didn't have access to other
patients' charts, and the Smoking Man hadn't filled him in.  He'd
only discovered the similarities later, by bugging the X-Files office
one day.  The listening device was found the next day by one of her
three fine friends, but he'd already gathered enough useful 
information to know how to proceed with his own plans.

He chuckled to himself.  They misunderstood his mission.  He wasn't
here maliciously.  He was here to help them, to warn them of the
danger they and their child were in.  They would collaborate with him
eventually.  They'd have to if they wanted to survive.

Mulder eyed him suspiciously, noting Krycek had backed away, making
no threatening movements with his hands.  He put his gun back in its
holster, but left his hand on his hip.  He didn't protest when he 
felt Scully move alongside him, glancing at her briefly to see if she
approved.

She did, giving him a weak smile.  She then turned her attention to
the man a few feet away.  "What do you have for us, Krycek?"

"I know you'll find it hard to believe.  Both of you will.  But I'm
here to warn you.  There are people interested in you.  Survivors of
the old Project, loyal to no one but themselves.  They know about the
baby.  As soon as the baby is more or less viable-- "

He was interrupted by Mulder's hiss, "Viable?  They're waiting till
it will survive outside the womb?"

Scully turned away from both of them, hand clasped tightly over her
mouth.  Recently, her nightmares had been filled with horrendous
images-- men in white coats, slicing open her belly, stealing her
child.  For years she'd had terrifying dreams about her own
abduction, dreams she'd never remembered in entirety.  Alarming
afterimages of the violation of her body continued to haunt her,
embellished now with this new, more hideous aspect.

These fresh terrors were more abominable than anything she'd ever
experienced before.  There'd been no one around to wake her, soothe
her, whisper to her softly, while Mulder was gone.  Even when they
hadn't been involved with one another, he'd rescued her from
nightmares-- rocking her to sleep after he'd heard her cry out from
the next motel room.  He'd always been ready to listen when she'd
called him in the middle of the night, unhinged by another
frightening vision.

And there'd been no one to allay her fears, to tell her the
nightmares would never come true.  She hadn't even been able to tell
her mom, not wishing to upset her, too.  Scully was trembling
involuntarily, reliving her dread.  She heard Krycek begin to speak
again and felt Mulder's hand on her shoulder.  She turned back
around, trying to contain her emotion.

"Yes.  The baby will be special.  You've both been exposed to alien
viruses.  You both have immunity to them.  Mulder has vestiges of
alien DNA in his bloodstream, no matter what Cancer Man tried to
remove from his brain.  I'm not sure about you, Scully.  I've never
been able to steal your lab results.  I guess I'm good, but not that
good," he cackled.  "You'll have to believe me on this.  You don't
have to consider me a friend.  Just consider me a concerned citizen."

Mulder couldn't follow all of this.  Alien DNA, the Smoking Man took
something from his brain, exposure to viruses--  not finishing his
journal this afternoon had put him at a disadvantage.  Determined to
keep his secret from Krycek,  he decided to shut up and let Scully
take it from here.  He wasn't disappointed by her performance.

"Even if I give you the benefit of the doubt, Krycek, and believe
half of what you've just said, what do you expect us to do?  Run away
to some South American country?  Refuse to fight colonization?  Cut a
deal with the bad guys so they'll let us live in peace?  Just what do
you suggest we do?" 

Scully's voice had gotten progressively louder as she railed at
Krycek.  She struggled to maintain control, her anger overwhelming
her customary reserve.  Part of her was screaming at herself:  this
is no good for the baby, it's no good for you, just get away from
him.  She knew that wasn't possible.  She would have to hear him out;
he might be just be telling the truth.

"I don't know.  I can't tell you what to do.  I only suggest you
think about what I've told you.  Go away somewhere and talk about it.
I'd offer you my help, but I'm quite sure you don't trust me.  I'm
just the messenger.  Not your assassin."

His last words were spoken softly, a tone of regret seeping through.
All present knew the underlying significance of his remark.  There
would always be doubt about Krycek's role in their family members'
deaths.  His loyalties would always be questionable.  

But if Krycek's warning was true, if the baby was marked for
removal, kidnapping, whatever nefarious fate the shadow men had
designed for him, they had little time to dwell on Mulder's memory
loss.  It was the least of their problems now.

fin


Almost Home (5/?)
By Shoshana

February 20th, 2001
Tuesday

Krycek fled quickly, a cursory 'I'll be in touch,' his only
farewell.  Scully stared off into the night around them, stunned by
the younger man's revelation.  A groan beside her brought her back to
her senses.

Mulder was doubled over against the wall, hands clutching at his
knees for additional support.  Even in the dim incandescent light,
she could tell his color wasn't very good.  She rushed to his side
and forced him to sit down on the ground beside her.

"Mulder?  What's wrong?" she asked, fearful of another side effect
of his abduction.

"Dizzy."  

He took in one deep, painful breath, then exhaled it in a whoosh as
he lowered his head between his knees.  Scully rubbed his back,
cooing to him about taking it easy.  He took in several more less
arduous inhalations, calming slowly.  He was able to sit up against
the brick wall within minutes; his breathing becoming more regular
with every stroke of her soothing fingers.

"Better?" she asked.

He looked over at her gratefully, then said, "That doesn't happen to
me very often."

"Me neither, Mulder.  I had attacks of vertigo right before you
left..."

She realized too late she shouldn't have brought this up.

"Oh, great.  Another thing I can't remember, right?"  he said
bitterly.

He pulled himself to his feet and raged at the wall, "Goddammit,
Scully!  How can I protect you when I can't recall what's happened to
you?!?"

He struck his fist against the brick wall, blindly lashing out at
his own inadequacy.

"Ow!!!" he howled, cradling one fist with the other.  The uneven
texture of the bricks had chafed at his hand, skinning his knuckles.

"Mulder!" she shouted, moving to his side immediately, urging his
fingers apart so she could examine the damage.

He held still for her, regretting his loss of control.  She was
infinitely patient, reaching inside her coat pocket and pulling out a
handkerchief to wrap his injury.  He could tell it wasn't the first
time she'd witnessed the foolishness of his ill temper.

"Sorry," he apologized, his eyes telegraphing remorse.

"'S'okay, Mulder.  I've done the same thing.  Unlike you, I wait all
day, internalize all my anger, until I have a chance to be alone. 
You've always just let it go, whoever happened to be around," she
told him, tightening the makeshift knot.

"Have I ever hurt anyone?  I don't remember taking it out on people,
just inanimate objects..."

He was panic-stricken by the thought he'd ever taken his ire out on
Scully, or anyone else close to him the last eight years.

"No, no, no!  I've never seen you take your anger out on an innocent
person.  You've had to replace the office wastebasket several times,
and plaster over a few holes in the wall of your apartment-- but
that's it, Mulder.  I've seen you go ballistic against a criminal,
but I hardly think that's misplaced emotion."  

"You stopped me from killing Krycek," he remarked.

"Yeah, and if you hadn't been with me just now, I might have killed
him myself.  I blame him for luring you back to Bellefleur.  He told
you the ship wouldn't be there much longer.  You wouldn't let me go
with you because of the vertigo and we didn't have a clue it was
caused by my pregnancy.  It never even crossed my mind.  I thought it
was--"  

She hesitated, lowering her eyes to the concrete slab beneath them. 
She didn't want to rub salt into his wounds, revealing more grief
from the past.  He implored her to continue, raising her chin with
his good hand.  He cupped her cheek gently, encouraging her to look
into his eyes.

"You thought your cancer was out of remission.  I probably thought
so, too," he said quietly.

"You wanted me to go home from Bellefleur as soon as I felt ill. 
You told me how much I'd lost, how much more you wanted for me."

A few tears trickled down her cheek, and he gently wiped them away
with one slim finger.  He took her in his arms, holding her as
tightly as he could with one hand incapacitated.

He whispered in her ear, "I do want more for you, Scully."  He
smoothed his hand over her back, comforting her as she wept silently
against his chest.  

Mulder pulled away from her slightly, looking directly into her eyes
as he continued,  "You've got a small part of what you lost back. 
You're going to have a baby.  No one's going to take him from your
womb, or from your arms.  I won't let that happen."

"What do we do now?" she asked, still troubled by Krycek's warning.

"We do what we were going to do, Scully.  We call the guys and have
them debug the summer house-- set up a great security system there. 
We'll go to see Dr. Werber tomorrow, then we'll drive up to Rhode
Island and stay there-- at least through next Sunday.  The guys will
check out our apartments while we're gone."

"Okay.  All right.  We can't be intimidated by threats.  We can't be
sure what Krycek told us is the absolute truth."  

Scully rubbed her eyes with the fingertips of one hand, cleansing
them of tears.  She gave him a brave, but weak smile, entwining her
right hand with his left one.

"Let's go home, Mulder," she said, quietly leading the way.

When they arrived at his apartment, Scully allowed him to remove his
jacket, then dragged him into the bathroom to bathe his hand with
alcohol and apply a few Band-Aids.  It wasn't as bad as it looked;
he'd be able to use the hand with no problem the next day.

Mulder sat docilely on the toilet seat, enjoying the attention.  He
chuckled to himself, imagining this might be why he'd been so
accident-prone while partnered with Scully.  Subconsciously, he must
have craved her touch-- the more damage he inflicted upon himself,
the more physical contact he received.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked, as she applied the last bandage.

"Not really," she replied. 

"I'll make you something," he offered.

"Not hungry," she said, shaking her head and turning to leave.

Mulder's left hand snagged Scully's wrist before she could escape. 
He reeled her back in, imprisoning her between his thighs.  His large
hands balanced gently on either side of her hips; hazel-green eyes
daring her to elude his grasp.

"You *have* to eat.  It's eight o'clock and you haven't eaten all
day.  You have to put what Krycek said out of your mind.  We'll do
everything we can to protect this baby, but first and foremost you
have to stay healthy."

"You can't cook."

"Who says?" he replied.

"I know for a fact you have an extremely limited repertoire, Mulder.
That's why we eat out ninety-nine per cent of the time."

"I used to cook, years ago.  I stopped after--"

"After Diana left," she filled in.

He gave her a quizzical look.  "There's not much you don't know
about me, is there, Scully?"

Scully panicked temporarily; he'd had virtually no reaction,
positive or negative, to Diana's name.  Mulder hadn't finished his
journal and couldn't possibly know of her death.  It would be
bittersweet news for him; Diana had saved his life by sacrificing her
own.  

Scully didn't have the energy for this, couldn't imagine how she'd
marshal enough strength to tell him.  She gathered up her last ounce
of energy and told him the truth bluntly, "She's dead, Mulder." 

"Who?" he said, temporarily confused.  Then, comprehension sank in,
and his face reflected an aching disbelief.

Scully brought her hands to his face and experienced a sense of deja
vu.  She'd delivered the news twice to him now.  He was truly stunned
this time.

He didn't realize Diana was involved with the Consortium, as he had
in October 1999.  She wondered whether she should have prefaced her
remark with that information.  She stroked his cheeks with unsteady
thumbs, trying to assuage his grief with physical tenderness. 

"She returned to the states in 1998.  There's a lot you don't know
about her, Mulder.  It's a long, complicated story.  I guess I've
been reluctant to tell you about this," she said sheepishly.  

"I can tell you this, Mulder-- she didn't pass in vain.  She was
still your friend when she needed to be."  Scully fought back tears
unsuccessfully, blinking them away as she spoke.

Mulder closed his eyes, folding his arms around her waist and crying
softly into her belly.  She tangled her fingers through his hair,
soothing him as best she could.  She wondered if they'd both go mad
before the week was up.  He, from the stress of losing so much at
once; she, from a growing sense of dread Krycek's prophecy would be
fulfilled.

"Sshh, Sshh," she crooned into his ear.

He lifted his bereaved face to hers and said, "Scully, I'm sorry. 
I'm not a whole lot of help, am I?  Losing my cool twice today."

He released his hold on her, leaning back, rubbing at his eyes with
his uninjured hand.  She stood patiently beside him while he took
several deep breaths.

"What next, Scully?  Anything else I should know that we've missed?"
His tone was sardonic, but not directed toward her.  

Scully dabbed at her eyes, clearing them of tears.  "Come on,
Mulder, let's go have some tea.  It did both of us a world of good
last spring.  Maybe I'll even let you cook for me."

She took his hand and helped him to his feet.  Before she could turn
toward the door, he enveloped her in his arms, rocking her from side
to side.  It felt so good to have him back.  She knew they would
survive, their baby would survive, if they just stayed this close to
one another.

*******

An hour later, Scully was falling asleep on Mulder's shoulder.  He
tickled her cheek with his finger, trying to rouse her.

"Scully, let me put you to bed," he urged.

"Hmmm, that was a good peanut butter sandwich, Mulder," she muttered.

"Glad you liked it, but I think your back will be much happier if
you sleep in a comfortable bed," he insisted.

"Okay.  You have to go to Dr. Werber tomorrow.  And call the guys
tonight."

"I will, I will.  Now, would you like to walk or do I have to carry
you?" he teased.

"Walk," she declared.  Using Mulder as a springboard, she rose onto
wobbly legs and started for the bedroom.  Mulder jumped to his feet,
guiding her around obstacles on the way.

She was pretty mobile by the time they reached the dresser she'd
expropriated while he was gone.  Without much thought, she reached in
a drawer and snatched some warm pajamas and proceeded to the 
bathroom.

Mulder turned the bed down, then sat down to take a good look around
his bedroom.  He hadn't used it after Diana left for Europe.  He'd
piled file folders on the stripped-down mattress and stacked boxes
and boxes of magazines and government reports around the room.

He must have had a reason to change the decor in here, if not for
Scully, then for some other reason.  Out of curiosity, he reached
under the bed and found cardboard boxes lined up in a row.  He pulled
one out and discovered his pornography stash.  

He was scrutinizing one of the labels, a film with several auburn
haired porn stars on the cover.  It was called quite aptly, 'Redheads
in Bed.'  He didn't hear Scully's approaching footsteps, and all
attempts to conceal the tape were futile.  

He gave her a guilty smile, then passed it over to her outstretched
hand.  She let a guffaw of delight and collapsed backward on the bed
beside him.  Her laughter was contagious; she was charming him more
every hour he spent with her.  

They laughed beside one another, until Scully sat up and said,
"Don't worry Mulder.  I'm quite familiar with your taste in video."

"I'm just glad I got the hair color right," he joked.

"They're not natural redheads," she said with confidence.

Mulder gave her a sidelong glance, considering a suitable comeback. 
He felt clumsy cracking sex jokes with Scully, even though they'd
slept next to one another all last night.  He wanted to give her more
respect than that, but also realized their levity was easing a pall
surrounding them-- the prospect of having to hide their child from a
mysterious shadow organization.    

She laughed at his hesitancy, then said, "Sorry, Mulder.  I'm so
used to this kind of banter between us.  It's unavoidable.  I've
forgotten about your amnesia so many times today when we've joked
around.  It's like it never existed... and you came back to me
completely whole."  

Scully reached over and took his hand in her own.  "I'm not trying
to tease you," she concluded apologetically.

He leaned over and pushed a stray hair behind her ear, then replied,
"I like a woman with a good sense of humor.  But most of all, I like
a woman who's easily tickled..."

Without warning, he reached under her knees and tickled her till she
cried out for mercy.  Mulder ceased immediately, but she couldn't
stop laughing for several minutes.  Scully fell backward onto the
bed, hands poised to ward off further attacks.

"How did you know?"  Her voice quavered slightly, anxious he might
try for a second round of unbearable mayhem.

"Know what?"

"That it was behind my knees."

"I don't know, Scully.  It seemed like the logical place.  Must be
instinct.  I think I'll open an X-File on it."

She groaned at his jest, punching him softly in the arm.

"I wanna go to sleep, Mulder.  I'm exhausted.  Tuck me in."

She slid underneath the bedsheets, settling in as he helped
rearrange the comforter to her liking.

"Don't stay up too late.  I know it's useless to tell *you* that.  I
know you have a lot to read and plenty to think about, but it would
be nice to have you beside me when I wake up," she said, playing with
his hand above the covers.

"I'll be here," he promised, kissing her once on the lips, then
switching off the light.

Mulder went back to the living room.  He felt energized by all the
time they'd spent together so far.  He was beginning to enjoy their
new domesticity and didn't know what they'd do after the birth of
their child.  He didn't know where she wanted to live or if she
wanted to get married right away.  Scully hadn't seemed adverse to
his offhand proposal Monday night, but he wasn't sure she'd taken him
seriously.  

He was worried about the X-Files-- would they continue if he didn't
have her as a partner?  Evidently she'd been a huge factor in their
survival, and he hoped she'd come back after her maternity leave.  He
was sure Mrs. Scully would love to babysit.  She'd have to-- from
what he'd read of their life so far, they'd been on the road
constantly, with little time for a child.  Maybe Skinner would allow
them to cut back on their responsibilities while the baby was still
young.  And then there was the other, more ominous factor, the
knowledge the baby might be taken by someone.  He didn't want to come
back from Podunk, USA and find both baby and grandmother missing.  Or
worse.

He yawned and decided to call Frohike to set up the summer house
arrangements.  All three of them were home, of course, and didn't
seem bothered he'd waited twenty-four hours to contact them.

"How is Scully?" Frohike asked immediately.

"She's fine.  Really tired.  She's in bed already or I'd let you
speak to her," Mulder replied.

"How's fatherhood treating you, Mulder?" Frohike asked cheekily.

"Quite a surprise, Frohike.  Quite a surprise.  I'm really happy for
Scully.  I'm pretty happy about it myself, old friend," Mulder
replied.  

He treaded cautiously through the rest of the conversation,
carefully avoiding any verbal slips concerning his memory loss. 
After he hung up the phone, he decided to tell them the truth
tomorrow.  They were completely trustworthy and had taken good care
of Scully while he'd been gone.  They needed to be told; he needed
their help to protect the baby.

Mulder sat down on the couch and started in on his electronic
journal again.  After reading about Emily, and her affect on Scully,
he didn't think he could take much more bad news in one day.  He felt
unbidden tears trickle down his cheeks, so he got up and gazed out
the darkened window for half an hour.  He returned to his task only
because he was determined to plow through the diary before his
therapy session the next day.  

The alien virus, the trip to Antarctica to rescue Scully, all read
like science fiction.  If he hadn't been absolutely positive the
account had been written by him, he'd have trouble believing it, too.
God knows who paid the bill to get them back from the South Pole.

Diana's reappearance in his life and her assignment to the X-Files
when they were taken away from Scully and him was a major jolt.  He
suspected her involvement with the Consortium because of what little
Scully had told him earlier.  Why she would ally herself with these
monsters was beyond belief.  She'd been his best friend and lover for
almost a year.  What the hell happened?

He skimmed through most of their cases.  He noted, however, the end
of each entry.  He always said something about Scully in that last
paragraph.  He was most definitely in love with her by 1998, though
the attraction had been growing since the day he'd met her.

He finally made it to the fall of 1999.  This was crucial reading. 
He needed to know the significance of the artifact and its affect on
his brain functions.  Scully could always fill him in on the medical
aspects, but he didn't feel secure not knowing why he'd ended up in
the psychiatric ward.

Mulder didn't find any easy answers in his journal.  He wasn't able
to read minds after the surgery but he'd tapped into Diana's head
before that, discovering that she'd been involved with the Project
for years, studying MUFON women in Europe.  Diana had wanted to
survive and was willing to go to great lengths to do so.  

She'd had a change of heart before it was too late-- probably
because Cancer Man was willing to leave him for dead.  Diana had
saved his life, losing her own in the process.  She'd slipped the key
card to Scully, gone back to the Watergate Apartments and quietly
waited for an assassin's bullet.

He was too exhausted to continue.  He'd made it through October
1999, and fatigue was setting in.  It was one o'clock in the morning
and he didn't have to sleep alone tonight.  

He turned off the laptop and shut off the rest of the lights around
his apartment.  After checking the locks and burglar alarm, he
tiptoed into the bedroom, stripping down to his tee shirt and boxers.
Within minutes, he was nestled from head to toe next to Scully, one
hand curving around her belly.

As he dozed off, weary, but more content than he'd ever been in his
life, he wondered if there were any more bombshells in the rest of
the diary.  Could it be their life had been pretty routine (at least
by their standards) until his abduction?  

They'd gotten romantically involved, that was a major development
last April.  But what had impelled their relationship, what had made
the difference for Scully?  His journal entries sounded like he'd
been ready to make his move for years, especially after her bout with
cancer.

He'd read the rest tomorrow and find out what had changed Scully so
profoundly last spring.  Now, he just wanted to sink into the comfort
and security of his own bed-- his best friend snuggled beside him.

fin

Almost Home (6/?)
By Shoshana

February 21st, 2001
Wednesday
8:00 a.m.

"This is more like it," Mulder whispered when he was certain she was
awake.

"Like what?" Scully asked.

"This is a much nicer way to wake up than yesterday, Scully.  All
that banging on the door by Skinner interrupted a great dream I was
having... you know, the one with the beautiful woman in my arms?"

"Oh, is that what you thought I was?  A hallucination?" she
replied, flustered by the compliment as it so easily rolled off his
tongue.

He kissed her cheek tenderly, then rested his chin against her
shoulder.  His body was curled around hers, arms resting lightly on
the curve of her stomach.

"I'm pretty lucky you're not," he muttered into her neck.

She found his hands, warm against the fleece of her pajamas, and
covered them with her smaller ones.  

"I'm glad you didn't sleep on the couch," she said.

"How could I?  And miss this?" he teased.  

"I wasn't sure how appealing a woman my size might be," she answered
quite seriously.

"You're enchanting, Scully... just the right size for me," 
he assured.

"Would you care for some enchantment now?" she asked coyly,
lightening her tone.

He paused for a long minute.  For a moment, she thought she should
have kept her big mouth shut.

"I do.  But I think we should wait a few days," he said slowly.

"You do?" she asked curiously.

"I have good reason to-- hear me out, Scully," he said, cutting off
any protest.  "I, I feel like I'm competing with my other self, the
one that's known you for so many years-- the guy who's already made
love to you.  I felt comfortable with you the minute you held my hand
and told me about our baby.  But-- "

He leaned closer and kissed her cheek again, trying to reassure her
this had nothing to do with his attraction for her.

"I'll feel better when we're done with the hypnosis.  There's a
possibility I'll remember everything from the last eight years.  And
if I don't, at least I'll be relieved of that responsibility, in a
way.  At least, for now."

"Responsibility?" she questioned.

"I want to be the man you know, the one you trust implicitly with
your life and your love.  I seem to be having a bit of an identity
crisis.  Especially after reading my journal."

"Did you finish?"

"Only through October 1999.  I know about the surgery, the alien
craft, your trip to Africa.  My eyes went fuzzy with fatigue last
night and I decided to go to bed."

She was silent for a minute as she considered whether to tell him
about Samantha.  He needed to know.  Her revelation about Daniel
Waterston last April paled in comparison with the peaceful vision
he'd had of Samantha in California.

"There's something you need to know, Mulder," she said, turning
around in his arms with the slow, measured movements of a very
pregnant woman.

He gave her his full attention, shifting his head so he could look
directly into her expressive, blue eyes, still hazy from slumber.  He
caught her right hand in his left and nodded at her to continue.

"We found Samantha," she stated, her lips quivering ever so slightly.

There was pain in his eyes as he tried to restrain all the emotions
his sister's name called forth.  He squeezed Scully's hand once, then
twice, his lips parting vainly to speak.  He couldn't articulate the
sinking feeling this news was far from good.  He knew about his
sister's clones, and another, very plausible woman he'd met in a
diner several years ago.  He couldn't believe any of them were really
his sister, not after reading about the Smoking Man's other dirty
tricks.

Scully continued, ignoring his tongue-tied silence, "She lived on a
military base in California after she was taken from your home.  We
assume she was with Cancer Man and his family.  She was subjected to
tests by the Project; we only know because she kept a diary of those
terrible years."

Scully paused, gathering strength to go on.  She licked her lips
once, then continued,  "You found her diary after a psychic guided us
to the house they'd lived in.  After an impromptu seance, you knew
just where to look for it-- we read it together, over coffee in an
all-night diner.  The next day, with the help of some of our
resources, I found more information about a runaway admitted to a
local hospital.  We used old hospital records to find the ER nurse
who'd taken care of Samantha.  You asked me to speak to her; you
seemed too overcome by the moment to do it yourself.  I entered the
old woman's home and you didn't stick around-- you wandered off into
the forest for about ten minutes."

"Did she tell you anything definitive?"

"The nurse remembered her very well.  She thought Samantha had been
an abused child.  She checked up on her that night, and had a vision
for a few fleeting seconds-- she thought she'd seen Samantha dead,
covered in blood.  The hallucination lasted only a few seconds; she
chalked it up to working too many hours, not wanting to admit the
vision was real.  Spender came the next morning to get Samantha, and
she was gone.  Just gone-- from a locked room."

"What do they think happened?"

"What's important is what you thought, Mulder.  You returned from
the woods, and you said this was the end of the road.  That you were
fine.  That you were free."

"Did I ever tell you what I'd seen?" he rasped, fighting to contain
his sadness.

"Later.  You told me later.  You saw Samantha and other children
who'd been rescued by 'walk-ins.'"

"Spirits that rescue children who are the victims of child abuse or
serial killers.  Their bodies are never found.  I've read about this
in the literature.  Parents usually have a precognitive image of the
child, already dead," he explained.

"Yes.  That's almost exactly what you told me last year.  The
psychic told you the spirits intervene, transforming matter into pure
energy.  Starlight.  That's why no one finds their bodies."

"We were in California for this, or another case?" he asked.

"There was another case, a child molester and murderer.  We found
graves behind a Santaland where the man worked.  Harold Piller, the
psychic, approached us.  He ended up helping us with our
investigation and led us to Samantha's old home.  Poor man.  Even
when you came back from the woods and told him his son was 
all right--"

"His son was missing also?" Mulder asked incredulously.

"Yes, that's why he worked these cases; he was looking for his son. 
But he didn't believe you, Mulder, and I have to admit I didn't
either.  At first.  But I saw how much peace you gained-- you'd seen
her, in starlight, among other laughing and playing children.  You
described it to me so beautifully--"

Scully started to cry softly, periodically dabbing at her eyes with
one hand.  Mulder leaned over and gently kissed the tears from her
feverish cheeks.  He wept too, eventually nestling his face against
her shoulder.

"I guess this was the catalyst," he mumbled.

"What?" she replied, confused.

"The reason we became--"  He lifted his head from her soft pajama
top, taking one second to brush her hair back from her brow.  Her
entire face was tear-stained and he wanted to wash all her sadness
away.  He pressed his right palm to her cheek and finished his
sentence, "intimate."

Scully smiled brightly, then twisted her head toward his hand so she
could rub against it like a kitten.

"Partially," she said demurely.

"Partially," he repeated, as flatly as possible.

"I had my own epiphany last spring.  An opportunity to reconcile my
past with my present."

"Be less cryptic, please," he begged.

"I ran into an old flame and realized how much my world view had
changed-- since I'd met you, since I'd been on the X-Files.  I was
able to help him recover physically from an illness, but he still saw
me as the same person I'd been ten years before, when I was at
medical school."

"He was important to you?"

"Very much so... at the time.  But he was married, Mulder.  I didn't
realize his duplicity until I became involved with him.  I got out of
the relationship right away... for his family.  Apparently, he never
reconciled with his wife, because he wanted me to start all over with
him last spring.  I knew I couldn't do that and it wasn't only
because of our differing values.  It was you, Mulder.  You.  I could
never leave you for anyone else."

She whispered these last words, kissing the palm of his hand.  He
gathered her in his arms, joining their lips in a breathless kiss. 
He nuzzled her neck affectionately, pausing to enjoy her sweet,
distinctly female fragrance.

"Mulder," she sighed impatiently.

"Hmmm?"

"I hate to break the mood, but I really need to leave," she said.

"Leave where?" he asked, confused, and perhaps a little bit worried.

"I have to pee, silly.  Not leave *you*!"  She untangled herself
from his warm and comfortable body and swung her legs over the side
of the bed.  "I guess you've always been a bit insecure," she teased
playfully.

"Not so.  Not me," he denied quickly, eyes brightening as their
somberness fell away.  

She rolled her eyes at his speedy contradiction, then rushed to the
bathroom.  She wondered how she'd ever made it this long.  Maybe it
was the new company she was keeping, she mused happily to herself.

She was glad they were renewing their intimacy at a glacial pace. 
It made perfect sense, considering how long it had taken for them to
become lovers.  She thought back to the night she'd run to his motel
room in 1993, terrified her mosquito bites were of alien origin.

If he'd reacted differently to her and taken advantage of the
situation that night they might not have stayed partners very long. 
This man was Mulder circa 1993-- and nothing but a gentleman, then
and now.  He treated her with kindness and respect, 
not lasciviousness.

As soon as she emerged from the restroom, Mulder zipped right past
her, nature calling him too.  She noticed it was nine o'clock
already.  How the hell did it get so late?  They must have slept very
late, and then they'd talked, and then they'd kissed--  

She looked forward to being completely alone at the summer house
with no distractions-- other than black-gloved thugs out to kidnap
her baby.  Reality was setting in fast this morning.  Their lives
would never be simple, and they would never live a placid existence
without constantly looking over their shoulders.

She'd known that from the very beginning of her tenure on the X-
Files; danger had stalked them on almost every case they took on. 
Things were not going to change soon unless they could defeat the
machinations of the Consortium.  And they'd need lots of help to do
that.

Sooner or later they'd have to enlist Skinner's help.  He was still
their friend, no matter what power Krycek held over him.  And they
should certainly sit down with the Lone Gunmen and explain Mulder's
amnesia in detail.

She thought of the hypnosis session that afternoon.  Maybe Mulder
would learn something, anything, of value to cure his memory loss. 
She didn't expect eight years of memories to come flowing back all at
once, but if he knew why he'd had his mind tampered with, at least
he'd be able to deal with it better, maybe attain a little peace of
mind.

She decided to make coffee before getting dressed for whatever
errands needed to be done before seeing Dr. Werber.  She yelled
something to that effect at the closed bathroom door, then left the
bedroom in search of her morning brew.

******* 

Office of Dr. Heitz Werber
Silver Springs, Maryland
1:00 p.m.

"I'm very glad to see you again Agent Mulder, Agent Scully.  And I
guess congratulations are in order for both of you," Dr. Werber
remarked in his quiet, dignified manner.

"How did you know?" Scully asked, wondering if the whole world knew
she was pregnant.

"Assistant Director Skinner has kept me informed of your situation. 
He came here a few months ago.  He thought hypnosis might help him
remember some pertinent facts, anything which could help him find
Agent Mulder.  He inadvertedly told me about your child.  I'm sorry
if I've said anything to offend you."

"Oh, no.  No, Dr. Werber. It's quite all right.  But considering the
unusual medical condition Mulder is experiencing, I must ask you to
keep this session completely confidential.  Perhaps not even noted in
your files?" she added.

"That would be fine.  I was puzzled that we didn't do a pre-
interview on the phone, but I chalked it up to the confidentiality of
much of your work," the doctor commented.

"Why don't we all sit down and get comfortable before we start the
session and you can fill me in on any other details," he offered.

Mulder and Scully sat side by side on the large maroon couch.  Dr.
Werber sat down in a chair directly across from Mulder, notebook in
hand.

"Please tell me how I can help you," Werber said.

"Dr. Werber, as you already know, I was missing for the last five
months.  I don't have any idea where I was all or what was done to
me.  Of and in itself, that would be hard to deal with, even though I
have no lasting mental or physical problems from my captivity.  The
greater problem is much worse-- when I woke up in a Bellefleur,
Oregon forest on Monday, I had no recollection of the last eight
years.  I initially thought I was in New Jersey, still chasing a UFO
sighting in January 1993.  I recognized the flora and fauna as that
of the Pacific Northwest, and I knew something was very wrong.  I
hitched a ride to Portland's airport and thought I'd stepped into the
Twilight Zone-- as you can well imagine.  That's it.  The essence of
my problem," he admitted, shrugging his shoulders resignedly.

Dr. Werber had been listening attentively and nodded his head,
weighing the information.

"I've had amnesiac patients before.  We've had some success in
recovering their memories.  How are you doing in general now?  Do you
think you're ready for this?"

"Yes, I do."  Mulder reached over and grasped Scully's hand.  "I
have some fine people in my life who've been more than 
understanding."

"Okay.  We'll proceed then.  I know you're familiar with hypnogogic
trance.  I'll talk you through the steps, even though you already
know them.  Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths, relax your
body.  Long, deep breaths.  Relax your hands, relax your feet.  Relax
your jaw, your pelvis.  Take long, deep breaths."

Mulder followed the doctor's instructions, opening himself up to a
light trance state.  He was still holding Scully's hand when he
slumped into the comfortable couch.  She could tell when he saw
something in his altered state; his grip tightened, and his whole
body became tense.

"Oh, God.  I'm here," Mulder said tautly.

"Where are you, Agent Mulder?"

"I'm on a ship, I think.  I don't know.  All the walls are white and
I can't move.  I don't feel any pain, but I can't move.  There's
nothing on the walls, no furniture except for the table I'm lying on.
I'm not cold; I'm not hot.  I can't feel myself breathe.  It's like
all my bodily functions are regulated by someone else.  Oh!"

"What is it, Fox?" asked the doctor.

"A gray just walked in.  Now another one.  I understand them. 
They're talking about me-- I know too much.  I'm the most successful
test subject-- but I know too much.  They're going to return me.  Oh,
God.  They're going to return me.  They've decided to erase my mind
of all I've learned.  I can read their minds, but they don't know why
I can do it.  They saying to each other they can't let me remember. 
Oh, fuck.  They're going to screw it up!  Oh, God!  I don't know why
I know, I just do."

"Are you still in the room, Fox?"

"I am, I am-- I can feel one the grays in my mind.  He's doing
something.  Oh shit, it hurts my head.  I can't take this.  I'm
getting dizzy... I don't get dizzy.  I'm--"

Mulder's head fell limply forward.  His body inched off the couch,
and Doctor Werber leapt to his feet, preventing him from falling
over.  He helped Scully position him in a prone position on the
couch, allowing her to check his vitals.  He had his cell phone out,
ready to call an ambulance if necessary.

Mulder started to groan while she did her routine check; his eyelids
fluttered open as he grimaced in pain.

"Ow!  Shit!  What the hell?" he grumbled.

"Mulder?  Are you all right?" she asked worriedly.

"No, Scully.  I need pain killers.  My head!" he howled.

"We have ibuprofen.  I don't think we should give him anything
stronger, Dr. Scully, until you can determine why he fainted,"
advised Dr. Werber.

"Didn't faint.  They fucked up.  They took eight years of my life
away.  It was only supposed to be five or six months and they took
eight years," Mulder moaned.

Dr. Werber's assistant arrived with tablets and a glass of water. 
Mulder leaned sideways to swallow the medicine.

Scully sat next to him, having pulled the doctor's chair beside the
couch.  She made him lie back down, and despite their audience she
caressed his forehead, trying to help him relax.  His hands were at
his sides now, trying to respond to Scully's soothing ministrations.

"Just relax, Mulder.  Just lie still awhile.  There's no rush," she
crooned.

"No, there's none at all.  My assistant and I will leave you alone,
if you like," Dr. Werber offered.

"Thank you, Doctor.  We'll just be a few minutes," Scully responded.

They left the room and Mulder groaned again, less inhibited with
only Scully present, "Oh God, Scully.  The fucking aliens screwed up.
I could feel it happening.  I could feel the loss.  It hurt so much,
so much.  I must have been unconscious when they dropped me off in
Bellefleur.  I had a headache when I woke up, but I just thought I'd
been cold-cocked by someone."

Scully was leaning closer to him now, both hands soothing his
temples.  She quipped, "Wouldn't be the first time, huh, Mulder?"

"Oh, you're making a joke," he complained back sarcastically.

"Sure, I am.  I'm so damn happy you didn't lapse into a coma just
now, Mulder.  Let's not try this again.  At least for awhile, okay?"

"I don't *ever* want to try it again!  Damn, my head's still
pounding."

"Just take it easy.  I'm sure it's not permanent," she assured him.

"Oh, not permanent.  Like my amnesia is?" he scoffed.

"You don't know that!  You don't know what they made you believe,
Mulder!  Maybe they implanted false memories.  You don't know what's
real and what's not.  You can't give up hope-- we haven't even begun
to pursue other treatments," she asserted.

Mulder took several long, deep breaths, shutting his eyes and
flattening every inch of his body against the couch.  Scully
continued to smooth back his hair, then found a handkerchief in her
coat pocket to mop his brow.  He smiled up at her when he opened his
eyes again.

"I love you."

"I know," she smiled back.  "Relax.  Close your eyes.  We're not
driving anywhere tonight.  I'm changing our plans right this minute,"
she asserted.

"Okay," he mumbled, trying to unwind while she gently caressed him.

Scully stroked his face, trying to relax every tight muscle.  Her
strong hands felt like heaven to Mulder and he almost dozed off in a
blissful haze.  The headache was fading fast and he knew he ought to
tell her, but he was enjoying this all too much.  Then he remembered
how worried she must be, and how very pregnant she was and decided to
curb his selfish motives.  

He stilled her hands, opening his eyes and saying, "I'm better. 
Much better.  Let's go home, Scully."

Scully smiled at his recovery, rising to her feet and holding out a
steady hand.  He accepted her help gladly, swinging his legs off the
couch, then standing up on slightly wobbly legs.

"Whoa, be careful now.  You might be a little woozy," Scully warned.

"Real men don't get woozy," he declared solemnly.  

Mulder attempted a few steps on his own, but his lurching feet
betrayed his lightheadedness.  He looked over at Scully despondently,
then managed a weak smile when she wound her arm around his waist to
support his forward movement.

She chuckled at his grumpiness, "Come on, real man, let's get out of
here." 

fin

Almost Home (7/?)
By Shoshana

February 21st, 2001
Wednesday
3:00 p.m.

There were voices coming from his apartment.  Mulder stopped short
of the door, gently shoving Scully behind him.

"Scully," he whispered, "when are the guys supposed to be here?"

"I have no idea.  I thought they were going to Rhode Island today."

"Well, then who the hell is this?" he questioned.

He unholstered his gun and inched toward the door.

"Mulder!  You aren't in any shape to be confronting intruders. 
Let's just call the cops on my cellular!"

"I'm okay.  I feel fine now."

"At least let me back you up.  I have a weapon in my bag," she
offered.

"Ooh, Scully. Always prepared, are we?  Okay, get the gun out, but
don't even think of doing any of that tae kwon do stuff," he joked.

"Very funny.  I'm pregnant, not helpless.  And I didn't just faint
in the doctor's office," she reminded him.

"I'm one hundred per cent better, Scully.  The longer we stand here
and argue, the more my apartment is probably getting trashed.  Now,
I'm going to see if the door is unlocked," he said, easing the
doorknob to the right.

It opened easily, and they edged around the corner cautiously. 
Several voices continued to emanate from his bedroom.  Mulder swept
the living room, scanning the space for intruders, while Scully
headed for the kitchen area.  They found no one, so they both
proceeded down the hallway to the bedroom area.

All sound in the room suddenly ceased, save for the noise of a
mechanical drill.  Mulder and Scully gave each other questioning
glances, then flattened themselves against the walls outside the
room.  Mulder kicked the door open with a flourish, gun at the ready.

Three astonished sets of hands flew to the ceiling when they spied
Mulder and Scully in the doorway.  Frohike was kneeling next to the
wall, his high tech drill quickly discarded when he'd heard the door
slam open.  Langly trembled on the lone chair while Byers surrendered
across the bed.

"Holy shit!!!  Who the hell do you guys think you are?  Butch
Cassidy and the Sundance Kid?!?"  Frohike shouted.  He was still 
wide-eyed with shock, truly startled by their dramatic entrance.

"Who the hell do you think you are, sneaking around my apartment?" 
Mulder said, lowering his gun and starting to laugh. 

He was delighted to see their familiar faces.  They all looked older
and better than he remembered them being in 1993.  Well, maybe
Langly's hairstyle hadn't changed much, but he certainly looked clean
and well-groomed.  He even had a non-subversive tee shirt on,
advertising a local Marathon for charity. 

Byers and Langly rose quickly from their seats.  At first, it seemed
like they were rushing over to give Mulder a hearty handshake or bear
hug hello, but their real target was just behind him.  They skirted
Mulder, who stared at them with openmouthed surprise.

"Scully, come sit down.  You should get off your feet!" Langly said,
taking her arm and leading her to the bed.

Scully flushed several shades of pink at all the attention directed
toward her.  These guys had been doting on her for months, but she'd
never been more embarrassed by their regard until this moment.  They
should be welcoming Mulder back.  He was the one who deserved the
grand homecoming.  Then again, she thought to herself, they were
clueless about Mulder's amnesia-- and he'd already been back several
days.  Her delicate condition obviously took precedence over
returning abductees.

"Oh, Langly, stop!  I'm fine.  It's Mulder who should sit down.  He
fainted at the doctor's office," she blurted out.  

Two seconds later, she realized her faux pas.  Men hate being
reminded of physical weakness in front of other men, particularly
friends who would probably never let them forget it.

"Hey, Mulder.  You didn't come back impregnated by an alien, did
you?" Frohike teased.

"Fuck you, Frohike.  Nothing's wrong with me that reporting your
stolen DMV database won't fix."  Mulder grinned at him, enjoying
their friendly sniping match.  "What the hell are you doing here
anyway?" he said, gesturing around him.

"You asked us to install more security," Byers pitched in.  "Or at
least I thought that was the plan.  We went to Rhode Island last
night and drove right back.  None of us has slept for twenty-four
hours, but we wanted to get this done as soon as possible."

"Mulder.  Sit.  Now," Scully ordered, trying to control the level of
chaos in Mulder's ordinarily tranquil bedroom.

Mulder rolled his eyes, and finally put his gun back in its holster,
then sat next to Scully on the bed.  He couldn't resist putting his
arm around her possessively.  He wasn't sure how demonstrative he'd
been with Scully before his abduction, but he was extremely proud to
be a father and didn't mind showing off in front of his friends. 

"Bit of a shock for you, huh?" Langly commented, a knowing smile
plastered all over his face.

Mulder smiled back, shaking his head in wonderment.  He gave Scully
an affectionate sidelong glance, communicating more than words could
say.  

"I'll say," he replied, settling his hand around her waist.

"You didn't have a clue, did you Mulder?" Frohike asked.

"Well... no, and not for reasons you might imagine...  I
think I may have suspected something before I left for Bellefleur 
the second time.  If I could only remember what happened before I 
left--" 

"What?  What did they do to you?  Did they do the old mindswipe
trick on you?" Langly replied, not sure if this was one of Mulder's
practical jokes.

"He's not kidding around, guys.  He has amnesia."

Scully couldn't sit and listen to them crack wise about this.  It
wasn't a humorous topic for her.  She could only imagine how Mulder
felt, though she knew he'd disguise his apprehension for vanity's
sake.  He was willing to disclose his emotions to her but he'd always
been a lot less open among male friends.

"Whoa," was all Frohike could manage to say.

Langly sat back down on the chair, too dumbfounded to speak.

"Wait, it's all a matter of degree.  If Mulder goes for hypnotherapy
maybe the lost time will return," Byers said helpfully.

"That's where we just were, guys.  And the prognosis isn't very
good.  And as for the amount of time lost--" Mulder replied glumly.

Scully squeezed Mulder's hand tightly with her small, but strong
fingers.  She surveyed the room with a concerned gaze, catching all
three men's eyes.

"He can't recall a thing before January 1993," she exclaimed soberly.

"But that's-- that's when he met you, Scully," Frohike wondered
aloud, trying to remember the exact month she'd joined him on the X-
Files.

Scully shook her head.  "Nope.  I came on board in February."

"Then how did he know... how did Mulder recog--"  Byers was tongue-
tied, but at least he could speak.  Langly and Frohike's mouths gaped
wide open at this revelation.

"I didn't know who the hell she was when I came back to my
apartment.  I pulled a gun on her, then demanded to know what she was
doing there.  It should have been pretty obvious, but I'd been
travelling all day from Bellefleur and didn't expect a pregnant woman
in my bed.  Especially when the last place I thought I'd been was New
Jersey-- eight years ago," Mulder added.

"That's fucking amazing," Frohike blundered out.

"Frohike, stick a sock puppet in it, will ya?" Langly scolded.

"It's okay, guys.  We're okay."  Mulder tightened his hold around
Scully, demonstrating their bond.  "I felt connected to Scully almost
immediately.  And not just because she's having my child.  I guess
we've spent so many years as partners, I recognized her on some
subconscious level."

"That's totally rad!" exclaimed Langly.

Everyone laughed at Ringo's display of enthusiasm.  Mulder was
relieved his friend looked and acted the same as always.  He'd always
gotten a kick out of Langly's hippie persona.

"Okay, guys.  Now that you've heard the good news--" Scully said
wryly.

"*Amnesia* was the good news?" Frohike exclaimed.

"No, Frohike, Mulder's ability to deal with all that's happened to
him in the last five months and not go stir crazy is the good news. 
I'll let Mulder tell you what else we learned at Dr. Werber's office
before we move on to the bad news," she replied.

"Huh?  What?" asked Langly, always articulate.

"The aliens didn't intend to steal eight years of my memories, only
five or six months worth.  It didn't work out the way they wanted it
to-- that's my initial theory.  There's no proof, no logic, to what's
happened to me... other than what I remembered at the doctor's
office.  I've had to deal with the memory loss by reading my journal
and asking Scully a zillion questions over the last couple of days. 
When I woke up in a forest on Monday I could remember being assigned
to the X-Files, and knowledge of the paranormal helped me deal
with my sudden dislocation to the great state of Oregon.  Of course,
after I hitched a ride to Portland and saw all the newspapers were
dated 2001--"

"You, of all people, would be able to deal with time travel,
Mulder," Byers weighed in.

"Ironic, isn't it?  I've become a living X-File," Mulder replied.

"So what's the bad news?" Frohike inquired anxiously.

Mulder looked askance at Scully's worried face and decided to break
the weighty silence for her, "Krycek paid us a social call 
yesterday."

"Ah, shit.  That bastard," Frohike cursed.

"Well, I'm not too sure about his parentage, Frohike," Mulder said, 
"but he claims our baby is in jeopardy--"

"So, that's why you wanted all this security..." Byers mulled.

"Yeah, it was.  We haven't told Skinner about this, guys.  You have
to keep it confidential," Mulder pleaded.

"We really need your help," Scully added, her blue eyes darting from
face to face.

"You have it.  You know how we feel about being godfathers," Frohike
quipped, trying to break the tension in the room.

"We don't know if Krycek was full of it or not, but we're not taking
any chances.  The only reason we haven't told Skinner about the
memory loss is Krycek's previous association with him.  Skinner may
still be at risk-- we'll wait and see what develops.  Skinner's been
so depressed about losing Mulder in Oregon-- I've never had the heart
to bring up the subject of Krycek," Scully explained.

"Are you guys staying here tonight?" Frohike queried.

"Yeah, it's been an exhausting day.  We'll leave for Rhode Island
early tomorrow morning.  Thanks for your help with the summer house. 
Skinner gave us a couple of weeks off from work, and we'll be gone 
until Sunday.  I think Scully mentioned an appointment on Monday--"  

Scully nodded affirmatively to her collective audience, clutching
Mulder's hand again for support.

"Well, we're almost done here.  This is the last room we had to
debug.  We didn't tear out the old security system, just enhanced it.
We put it in just after you disappeared, so Scully would feel safe
here.  Same thing at her apartment," said Byers.

Mulder looked over at Scully and asked, "You stayed here most of the
time?"

"Yeah.  I thought you'd be like a homing pigeon, coming back to
roost.  I was right, wasn't I?" she said, giving him a huge smile.

"Yeah, you were right," he agreed with a grin.

He leaned over and kissed her impulsively, oblivious to their
audience.  The smooch lasted a little longer than they expected it
to; they sprang apart when they heard groans and catcalls all around
them.

"Get a room!" Langly jested.

"This happens to be my bedroom, guys!" Mulder retorted.

Frohike snickered, returning to the job he'd been doing before
Mulder and Scully barged in, their guns drawn and aimed at the three 
of them.  "Go watch cartoons for a half hour so I can finish, 
damn it!"

"Okay, okay.  We're outta here," announced Mulder.

"Thanks, guys.  We really appreciate all the trouble you've gone
to," Scully said earnestly.

"No problemo.  Our pleasure," answered Byers.

Mulder and Scully left the bedroom, his hand balanced on her lower 
back, like so many thousands of times before.  Scully appreciated 
this gesture more than Mulder would ever know-- or at least until 
he regained his memory, and was able to recollect just how 
significantly his gentle touch had sustained her throughout the years.   

Scully was beginning to doubt whether Mulder would ever remember 
anything more than inexplicable, sensual memories of her.  She'd been
his closest friend these past eight years; it made sense he'd 
remember her differently than anybody else in his day-to-day 
existence.  

She'd never divulge such a theory to him without proof, and she was 
dubious they'd ever get it.  She wanted to believe what he'd seen and
heard at the doctor's office had been real, but it could all 
be a delusion, a hoax spoon-fed Mulder by an insidious, earthly 
source.  He might have been brainwashed into thinking he was on a 
spaceship, then experimented upon by Consortium scientists at some 
remote site.

She wasn't about to bring this to Mulder's attention until he'd had
more time to adjust to being back home.  He'd been cruelly used by
someone, even if he hadn't suffered any obvious physical harm.  She
was certain Mulder would consider any and all extreme possibilities, 
then share his thoughts when he was prepared to do so.  

Scully's skeptical attitude had always challenged him to poke holes
in his own theories.  She was certainly ready to do that, whenever he
showed sufficient interest in questioning what had happened to him. 
Until then, she decided to concentrate on enjoying the precious time
they had together.

The constant spectre of baby snatching criminals, lying in wait
around every street corner, would be combatted by their impassioned
promises to one another.  They'd rather die than see harm
come to their growing child.  His instinctive protective streak 
wasn't just a fluke; they were bound together by much more than 
simple biology.

Scully turned to Mulder before they reached the living room,
stopping him in his tracks.

"Why don't we feed these guys?  I'd like to do something more
tangible than just say thank you."    

"I've got no problem with that, Scully.  I'll go ask them what they
want on their pizzas," he responded.

"You know your friends, Mulder.  That's for sure."

She gave a quick kiss on the cheek, and hurried off to assess their
beer readiness.  She had a gut feeling the guys would be sticking 
around for more than pizza.  They'd been her faithful companions on 
many depressing nights in the past and she was overjoyed to share 
Mulder with them.  

They'd never given up on him-- nor on her.  Their optimism and
sometimes excessive attentiveness had sustained her through
innumerable bad days.  Scully had wanted to crawl into bed and cry 
sometimes.  She'd known she was made of stronger stuff than that, 
that a lot of her despair was hormonally driven.  Their attitudes 
had given her the capability to go on, the energy to keep the 
X-Files functioning as a division.  

Mulder didn't know it yet, but they'd almost been shut them down
when it became apparent he wasn't coming back from Oregon.  With
Skinner's help and her testimony, she'd kept their office open,
trimming back expenses by limiting the number of cases she and her
temporary partner investigated.  

Initially, Scully hadn't been happy about the partner situation at 
all. However, the agent had been handpicked by Skinner, and she'd 
found him to be a topnotch investigator.  It had been nothing like 
working with Mulder, but Charlie Huber never tried to usurp her 
partner's place. He'd become a real boon to the X-Files while she'd 
struggled to balance her private and public responsibilities.  

She needed to retain access to bureau resources in order to find
Mulder, and this compromise allowed her to do so.  She'd spent
every minute of her off-bureau time looking for Mulder, calling
emergency rooms, monitoring reports of UFO sightings all around the
country.  Charlie had offered his help on many occasions, but she'd 
consistently refused it.  

Scully had permitted him to put in as much overtime as he cared to,
on cases they were pursuing for appearances' sake.  They weren't 
spending anywhere near the amount of money they used to, when 
Mulder was on the job.  Perhaps she'd been overly cautious in 
her choices; they'd always been within their budgeted amount of 
expenses.    

She'd chosen an unusually high amount of X-File cases having to do
with reports of alien spacecrafts or abductions.  There'd been more
than a few adults, and even some children, who'd claimed to have 
been taken, tortured, then returned to their homes or 
neighborhoods.  

Scully had tried not to become too personally involved when
investigating these instances.  She'd wanted to retain a healthy dose
of skepticism.  Popular books and movies had romanticized abduction
experiences, and they'd become part of our national folklore.  She
couldn't depend on anyone to be completely honest with her, or to 
withstand a simple test of sanity.

She'd felt compelled to check out their stories anyway.  The one
abductee she passed off as a crank might be the one who'd seen a
hazel-eyed man in the cell next door.  Although many of the incidents
related to her seemed laughable, she'd patiently interviewed each 
and every person involved, hoping for a breakthrough.

Scully had realized in the past month how difficult it was
getting for her to function as a FBI agent.  She was a small person
and the baby was getting large by the beginning of her sixth month. 
She'd already cut back on their field work and had decided to take
early maternity leave.

Charlie would be transferred to VCU now, most likely permanently.  
She'd given him a call on Tuesday, when Mulder was busy with medical
tests at the hospital.  He'd been genuinely pleased to hear of 
Mulder's return and offered them any help they needed to get 
re-established.

She'd promised to visit him at his new workplace soon.  However,
with the visit from Krycek, and new concerns about the safety of
their child, she doubted she'd be paying social calls.  She'd trusted
Charlie for several months, without incident, but her new paranoia
about the Consortium would exclude most people from her confidence,
including Skinner.

Scully couldn't think of a good reason to trust Charlie implicitly. 
He seemed to be on her side the last few months, but there'd been
times she'd felt like he was monitoring her, gathering information
for someone outside the bureau.  They'd have to survive without his 
help.  For now.

"Scully?" 

Mulder was standing next to her in the kitchen, his hand on her
shoulder.  She'd been leaning against the dishwasher for God knows
how long while Mulder chatted it up with his friends.  He bent down
to meet her eyes, amused by her dreamy reverie.

"You seemed a million miles away.  What were you thinking about?"

Scully smiled at him mysteriously, determined to keep some of her
thoughts private.  She'd always wondered how much had been revealed
to him at Georgetown Memorial that day-- the day she'd urged him to 
hold on, to keep it together in his seemingly hopeless, catatonic 
state.  What had he known of her innermost thoughts?  Had he been 
convinced of her love that day?  Had he been confident of her 
devotion long before he'd become ill?

Their new state of affairs was less tragic, but problematic
nonetheless.  Would they be able to maintain their relationship,
raise a child, eventually marry?  Their bond seemed forged by
intuition, a sixth sense which drew Mulder to her in spite of his
lack of cogent memories.

"Nothing," she replied, assuming a Mona Lisa smile.

Mulder seemed to get the picture, allowing her secrecy.  They'd
spent twenty-four hours a day together since his return.  He knew she
wouldn't conceal anything of great importance, anything crucial to
their safety.  He didn't know how he knew; he just knew.  

He'd always trusted some people too easily, others not enough.  
It had seemed right to have faith in her from the moment he'd touched
her hand Monday night.  There was no rational explanation for this 
magnetic force between them.  Other than her inherent beauty, which 
any man would admire.

Mulder couldn't remember her intellectually, not even now.  The 
session with Dr. Werber had jolted nothing loose in his psyche-- 
other than what had supposedly happened on the alien ship.  He was 
still trying to keep up with the everchanging swift flow of events; 
he felt unusually tired for a man who had been pronounced medically 
sound.  

He was astounded when he glanced into a mirror, when he noted
the changes in his features over time.  He wasn't entirely 
displeased.  He'd never enjoyed looking like a punk ass kid to match 
his attitude.  

Mulder had just started to lose his boyish looks at the age of
thirty-two, the last time he'd taken time to scrutinize his looks.
He would turn forty this year, and he couldn't complain about his 
visual aspect-- as long as Scully approved.  He knew she wasn't so 
shallow as to take a lover based solely on their outward appearance, 
but he did want to please her.  

He couldn't separate the lure of her physical beauty from her
enticing, brilliant mind.  He'd always been attracted to smart,
charismatic women and despite his obvious interest in pornography, 
he'd always preferred women for their intellect, not their breast 
size.  

He was still chafing from Scully's discovery of his secret stash
under the bed.  She was disquietingly familiar with all his habits. 
He'd need time to get used to that.  Advantage, Scully, was all he
could say.

"Oh, I bet there's a whole lot more than nothing going on in your
beautiful mind, Scully," he responded to her claim.

She broke into a grin, remembering the last time she'd used that
very phrase.  He couldn't possibly have known about her journal.  She
hadn't even shown it to him yet.  She'd definitely have to do so now.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she replied boldly, reaching up to
caress the pleasant roughness of his five o'clock shadow.

Mulder placed his hands on her shoulders, then leaned down a little 
closer, so they were almost breathing the same air.  

"No.  I think I'll leave that to the enigmatic Dr. Scully's
discretion.  As long as you're not daydreaming about Frohike," he
teased.

"Well, Melvin did coin the phrase 'enigmatic Dr. Scully,' Mulder.  
You've been gossiping about me in the bedroom, haven't you?"

"Maybe.  Maybe not.  Maybe I'm still amazed you're mine."  

His last word had been little more than a whisper.  He closed the
gap between them, his lips sliding across hers sensually.  It was
possibly the most erotic kiss they'd shared since he'd come home and
she felt unbearably aroused.  Scully flitted her tongue across his
lips, seeking entrance to his mouth and--

A loud rapping at his door announced the arrival of their pizzas. 
They pulled away from one another slowly, and Mulder continued to
massage her shoulders affectionately, desire evident in his darkened
eyes. 

"Raincheck?" 

"Raincheck," she parroted back, gently pushing him in the direction
of the apartment door.

Almost Home (8/?)
By Shoshana

This chapter is rated NC-17.

February 21st, 2001
Wednesday
8:00 p.m.

The empty pizza boxes and abandoned beer bottles were a testament to
the fine time had by the Gunmen and their gracious hosts.  The former
had finally excused themselves when Scully had started yawning, then
apologizing for her inattentiveness.  She wasn't drinking any 
alcohol, but the pizza was more cholesterol-laden than her usual 
diet, and she was apparently fading fast.

However, the moment her friends left the apartment, Scully got her
second wind.  Inspired by the dark, lust-driven gaze her partner
directed toward her when he returned to the couch, she found plenty
of energy to meet and exceed his expectations.
 
Mulder hadn't expected this much passion from his tired partner.  He
thought she'd want to call it an early night, but she seemed to
revive as soon as the guys left for the evening.  So, here they were,
on his couch, sharing long, slow kisses with each other.

Scully had longed for Mulder for five long months and wanted to
grant him permission to love her.  She sensed an uncharacteristic
shyness in him the last few days; he seemed to be playing a guessing
game, trying to intuit when to take their physical relationship
further.  She knew he would feel a certain impropriety in making love
to a woman he couldn't consciously remember.  

However, lust was winning out over rationality for both agents. 
Tonight, he felt an overwhelming magnetic attraction to her soft skin
and silken hair-- he knew exactly how to kiss her, how to touch her,
more from instinct then from practice.  Scully responded eagerly,
expressing her own raw need with a little aggressive behavior of her
own.   

They were half-seated, half-lying down in an awkward position and
Scully knew there had to be an easier way than this.  Her mobility
was seriously limited by her large belly and frustrating
inflexibility.  She knew where she wanted to be and was determined to
lure her companion elsewhere.

"Mulder?" she asked, gently separating their tangled limbs.

"Yeah?" he replied roughly, openly disappointed she might be calling
it a night.

"I'm going to draw a bath," she said simply, rising from the couch,
then walking toward the direction of the bedroom.

"Okay," he acknowledged blandly, trying to disguise his dashed hopes
for a little more intimacy that night.

Ten minutes passed slowly as he listened to the sound of running
water coming from his bedroom.  Mulder gathered the trash from the
coffee table, recycling the beer bottles loudly so she wouldn't think
he'd passed out on the couch.

He sat back down and was about to turn on the televison, when he
heard, "Mulder, I need you in here now."

There was no fear or apprehension in her demand, so he sauntered
over to the bathroom door, then peeked around its corner.

Scully was standing in the middle of the room, fully clothed.  The
room was very humid from the bath water, which smelled strongly of
vanilla.  She extended her hand, beckoning him to her side.

Her expression was comfortably smug, and he knew she had something
up her sleeve.  She gave him a mysterious little smile, then pulled
his sweatshirt away from his body, taking the time to run her well-
manicured hands over his smooth back muscles.  He grinned down at
her, enjoying every minute of this slow seduction.

She unbuttoned his jeans, slowly, carefully, then pulled them down
over his hips. She set them next to his top, which she'd already
folded neatly on the counter.  She made no move to strip off his
boxers-- instead, she took two small steps backward toward the 
door.   

"Now," she whispered, "I'll be back in a minute.  Get in the tub and
stay there."

Mulder stepped forward quickly, grabbing her for one more kiss
before she exited.  He chuckled as she left the room, wondering why
she didn't just stay and allow him to dispense with her clothes, 
also.

He slipped into the modern-style bathtub, mentally thanking her for
not using floral bath salts tonight.  The tub was so easy to get in
and out of; it must have been one reason she'd been living in his
apartment the last few months.  That, and the overwhelming need to be
here if he returned, the only place he'd called home for almost ten
years.  

Mulder remembered something he'd written in his journal during the 
time she'd been missing.  He'd had a key from the early stages of 
their partnership, and he'd found himself lying in her bed one 
night, weeping over his inability to protect her.  She must have 
done the same for him, longing to come close to him in that same 
simple way.  Except their relationship had advanced so much further 
by last fall, resulting in a child of their own.  Her joy over her 
inexplicable fertility must have been tempered by his apparent 
disappearance.

He heard the door open, then her admonishment, "Close your eyes,
Mulder.  No peeking!"

He obeyed.  His compliance was well worth it, if she was planning on
joining him.

She lit a few candles, additions to his decor he'd definitely
noticed since he'd returned home.  The smoky smell of the match
infiltrated the air, and he could sense when she turned off the
overhead light.  

He heard the rustle of her clothing as she unbuttoned her blouse,
then unzipped her jeans.  The same careful placement of her clothes
next to his, then a soft snap as she unhooked her bra.  He heard her
pull her panties down to her feet, and he could only imagine which
ones they might be.  He'd seen several out of the corner of his eye
when they'd sorted laundry yesterday, glancing away when she'd caught
him in the act.

Her bare feet made little noise as she walked over to the edge of
the tub, pausing first on the squared-off ledge, then deftly lowering
herself between his legs.  There was no way he could disguise his
arousal now, she felt it as soon as she settled her back against his
chest.  His arms encircled her, hands just skimming beneath her
breasts.

"So, Scully... when do I get to open my eyes?" he whispered 
hopefully.

"Not yet. Not till I say so."

"Bossy, aren't we?" he teased, nuzzling her neck.

"No, I just think this will jog your subconscious memories.  It was
one of my favorite activities-- and I'm certain it was one of yours
also."

Scully punctuated her remark by shifting position, acknowledging his
growing desire beneath her.  Mulder groaned with pleasure, pressing
his groin against her bottom.  His fingers encircled her breasts,
teasing at her nipples with care.  He'd never made love to a pregnant
woman before, but he had enough sense to know they'd be ultra-
sensitive.

"Oh," she responded softly, loving the tender way he smoothed his
thumbs over every inch of her.  It was exactly the way he used to
touch her when they'd made love last year.  He then drew concentric
circles around each areola; disturbing the bath water in a similar
mesmerizing pattern.

He still hadn't opened his eyes.  He wanted to see her so badly, but
she was right about the subconscious memories.  It felt so good to
reconnect with her this way.  Everything felt so familiar, so
comfortable between them.  

Maybe the physical body remembered every experience from the past on
a molecular level, a level of consciousness having nothing to do with
retained cognizance.  Just because he couldn't explain his
perceptions didn't mean he wasn't going to revel in them.

Scully turned in his arms, ascertaining he'd kept his promise and
was still sightless in their quiet, insulated world of candlelight
and soothing waters.  She clasped her hands on his shoulders,
balanced so she could place kisses all over his face and jaw.  She
was tempted to ask him to look into her eyes, but she didn't.  He
seemed to be enjoying this sensory deprivation experiment as much 
as she.

Mulder explored every vanilla-scented inch of her body, including
her swelling belly.  He lingered there a few minutes and was rewarded
with robust movement from the baby.  She felt him smiling against
her, lips grazing her dewy neck.

"This was a great idea, Scully," he crooned softly.

"I have some more good ideas, Mulder," she responded, moving her
hand between his legs.

"Oh!  Jeez, Scully.  I don't think so yet," he warned, gently
removing her touch.  

His eyes had popped open the moment he'd felt her soft hand on him. 
He continued speaking, intently gazing into her blue eyes, "It's been
a long time for me, Scully.  Either way it's been a long time-- all
these months I've been away from you... which I can't remember... or
what I *do* remember from 1993.  I hadn't been with a woman for six
months before I'd met you."

"So..." she smiled, placing her finger on his lips.

"I don't want to disappoint you.  That's all."  His eyes entreated
her to understand his hesitation.

"You could never disappoint me, Mulder," she assured, wrapping her
arms around him tightly. 

He sprinkled kisses up and down her neck, then pulled back to admire
her now that his eyes were open.

"God, you're beautiful, Scully."

He was at long last able to appreciate what he'd been fondling
without the powerful sense of sight.  

"Want me to close my eyes again?" he teased, kissing her nose, then
anchoring one stubborn strand of hair behind her ear.

"No, I think the controlled experiment is over for today.  But I
don't think the investigation is over yet.  What about you?" she
asked flirtatiously.

"Nope.  Not over," he agreed, covering her mouth for a long wet kiss.

Before she could respond verbally, his hand had found its way to the
juncture of her thighs.  She leaned into his shoulder as he gently
caressed her mons.  His thumb started to tease her clitoris, in
perfect harmony with her encouraging sighs.  He sprinkled kisses
along her brow, then nudged her lips back to his own.  He licked and
kissed her madly, never ceasing his ministrations below.

She rocked against his hand insistently, begging for more contact. 
He moved one, than another, finger inside her, creating gentle
friction where she needed it the most.  His touch was very light,
very cautious.  He still wasn't sure about this pregnancy thing,
though he'd always heard it was only during the last month couples
needed to abstain.

"You won't hurt me," she mumbled through her euphoric haze.  

"'Kay," he muttered, his own arousal heightened by the sweet sounds
she was making as she swayed against him.

Scully's lips sought his for more deep long kisses as she teetered
closer and closer to an orgasm.  Her thighs brushed provocatively
against his groin as she squirmed in his lap.  He wasn't going to
last long enough to take her to bed-- he was pretty sure it wasn't
even an issue anymore.  

Mulder shifted his body in the tub-- his fingers moving slowly and
steadily in and out of her body, bringing her closer and closer to
the edge with each movement of his hand.  His thumb gently caressed
her sensitive clit at the same time, and shimmering waves of pleasure
surrounded her as she suddenly came.  

Her mouth clamped down on the skin of his sweaty, slippery neck, and
Mulder lost his last ounce of control, coming hard against her
smooth, small thigh.  Involuntarily, he slumped lower in the tub,
catching Scully before she could be harmed by falling roughly against
the porcelain surface beneath them.  Her body molded quite naturally
to his new position, and she pressed her face into the dark hair of
his heaving chest.

"Love you, love you," she gasped, her body still trembling against
his sturdy frame.

He tried to recapture his breath, answering her with small kisses
along her cheek.  Somehow he found the strength to sit taller against
the wall of the tub, lifting her into his arms so she'd feel snug
against him.

"Scully," was all he could say.  He wanted to call her Dana, but it
just didn't seem right.  Not yet, not now.  Even after this
extraordinary intimacy, he wondered how he'd ever called her anything
but Scully. 

"Hmmm... what?" she hummed softly against his chest.

"Nothing.  No question.  Just Scully," he answered.  He caressed her
forehead with his lips, still thirsty for the taste of her.

"Sometimes you'd call me Dana when we made love," she crooned softly.

"How do you know what's on my mind?"  

He marvelled at their ability to guess what the other one was
thinking, even now, on the edge of total exhaustion.

"I'm not sure myself, Mulder.  You asked me about my name on Monday
and I've been thinking about it the last few days.  When you called
me Dana last year... after we first made love... you'd hadn't called
me Dana for years."  She laughed softly, then lifted her eyes to
connect with his now sated ones.  "Don't get me wrong, I *do* like
it.  I think it's about as much of a pet name I'd ever consent to."

"But you don't call me Fox."

"Oh God, no!  I *like* my first name, Mulder."

He furrowed his brow in frustration, and apologized, "I'm sorry I
couldn't wait any longer-- so we could make love."

She looked at him fondly and asserted, "We just *did* make love." 
She cradled his cheek in her palm.  "I'm not disappointed at all. 
After all you've been through... It's understandable."

He grinned and kissed her one more time.  When they parted, Scully
let out a huge, involuntary yawn.

"I guess I'm pretty boring after all," Mulder quipped.

"No, no.  I just seem to need more and more sleep the farther along
I get.  Your lovemaking is just fine, Mulder...  I've missed you so
much," she answered, caressing his cheek with one hand.

Mulder nodded, then moved his right leg slightly flipping the
bathtub drain open.  The water started rushing out and Scully gave
him a questioning look.

"I'm going to shampoo your hair and put you to bed, young lady," he
informed her.

"All right, as long as you allow me the same privilege," she cooed
in his ear.

He kissed her cheek quickly, then helped her maneuver to a standing
position.  As she reached over to turn on the shower, she felt him
tracing the outline of her tattoo with his forefinger.

"I only caught a glimpse of this when we were in the tub.  It's very
sexy, Scully."  He crouched down to trail light kisses over the
design, then continued,  "I know how you got it from reading my
journal, and I didn't sound too pleased at all.  What the hell
happened?" he asked earnestly.

"It wasn't a very good time for me, Mulder.  I don't have a good
explanation for what happened in Philadelphia.  I was questioning
everything-- my X-Files life, my personal life.  I didn't know what
you were to me anymore.  We were best friends, but sometimes you
treated me like a subordinate at work."

"I'm sorry if I did.  I know I'm capable of being an arrogant
prick," he said, winding his arms around her so he could hold her
right below her breasts.

"It's not worth worrying about, Mulder.  And if you're curious, and
I know you must be-- nothing happened.  Just a few kisses and then
Jerse let me sleep on his bed.  I've never told you that before
because you never asked.  But now is just as good a time as ever to
let you know the truth."

He kissed her shoulder tenderly, then said, "It's easy to believe I
never asked.  Certainly not then, or even later on.  Especially after
you became sick, Scully.  I couldn't live with myself if I'd made you
dredge up bad memories when you were facing so much."

She turned in his arms and reached her hands up, framing his face. 
"I must have sensed something wasn't right with my body before I
found out about the tumor."  Scully felt Mulder flinch in her arms
when he'd heard her last word, and she gathered him against her
tightly.

"If you combine that with my mental malaise and my desire to rebel
against something, anything... Mulder, please don't feel bad.  I
don't know what I would have done without you.  Whatever else
happened between us remains inconsequential.  You were there for me
when I really needed you."

"I'm glad," he said simply, turning his cheek into her palm, kissing
it softly.  He wrapped his arms around her again and caressed her
neck with his lips.  "Now," he growled, "Hand over the goods, woman. 
I want to wash your hair."

Scully chuckled, then blindly reached into the cubby hole next to
the tub for the shampoo.  She had a mischievous gleam in her eyes. 
She wasn't going to relinquish the bottle so easily.

"I know where you're ticklish, Scully.  It's no use holding out on
me," he asserted when he saw her expression. 

She retaliated by shifting the vanilla concoction to her left hand,
so she could insinuate her right hand between their bodies, and 
gently grip his member.

"Oh," he gasped.  "All right.  No tickling.  Please, Scully."

She smiled devilishly, stroking him once more before releasing the
bottle to his shaky hand.  "Okay," she chirped, turning toward the
shower head and saturating her auburn locks.

Mulder counted to five before daring to open the bottle.  She knew
exactly how to unsettle him, and he wouldn't have it any other way. 
He knew she would always keep him on his toes, especially when she
had the advantage of memories he couldn't retrieve.

"Have we taken a lot of showers together?" he asked idly, as he
lathered the thick gel through her hair.

Her shoulders shook as she laughed at his question.  "Not too many. 
But they're all memorable."

"Well," he drawled, "I hope this one will be."

"This one's near the top, Mulder.  Don't worry about that."

He massaged her scalp with both hands and she moaned softly at the
luxury of having someone do this for her.  She smiled at the prospect
of Mulder bathing her during her ninth month of pregnancy.  By then,
washing between her toes would be a futile exercise without
assistance.  

By the time they'd finished their shower, gently drying each other
off with soft towels and wet kisses, it was close to ten o'clock. 
They set the alarm for seven, and crawled between clean, smooth
sheets, not bothering with pajamas this time.  

Mulder draped his long limbs around her, too tired to ask for more
than the pleasure of cradling her all night.  His large hands gently
stroked her abdomen, blessing the life she nurtured within its
graceful curve.  She stilled the movement of his fingers by entwining
their hands together, then sent up a silent prayer to God, thanking
Him for bringing Mulder back to her side.

fin

Almost Home (9/?)
By Shoshana

February 22nd, 2001
Thursday
1 p.m.

Highway driving was always monotonous and Scully took heart when she
glanced at her watch and noted they were an hour away from their
destination.  They'd gotten up at seven, loaded their bags into her
car by eight, and were on the road within minutes of an obligatory
Starbucks visit.  They *were* stopping every hour for her to use
whatever facility they could find, but otherwise no obstacles stood
in their way.

Mulder had driven the first three hours of the journey to his
parents' summer house in Rhode Island; Scully was now behind the
wheel, listening to a classical station while her partner slept.  Or
at least she thought he was sleeping, his face firmly pressed against
the seat cushion, breathing unfaltering in its regularity.

Eyes held fast by the road before them, she calmly tapped her
forefinger to one of the Brandenburg Concertos.  Occasionally she'd
glance over to find Mulder slumbering-- jaw slack, hands
relaxed against his thighs.  She still didn't think he was one
hundred per cent recovered and she worried about further headaches
and/or vertigo plaguing him.

Scully's attention was fixed on the highway when he spoke at last,
startling her so profoundly she was grateful both hands were
firmly grasping the steering wheel.

"What?!" she demanded, not sure she comprehended his softly-spoken
words.

Mulder sat up a little straighter in his seat, rubbing at his eyes
with one hand.  He paused, then repeated what he'd just said, "I want
you to get out.  Out of the X-Files.  While we can still find a safe
place for you and the baby."

She glanced over at him quickly, then returned her eyes immediately
to the road ahead of them.  He was deadly serious.  She'd feared a
conversation like this would unfold sooner or later.  She immediately
executed a maneuver more commonly seen on a raceway than a public
highway, pulling over onto the shoulder of the road.    

She reined in her anger, attempting to see it from his perspective. 
He just wanted to protect her, remove her from the line of fire.  He
hadn't included himself in the equation because he knew the only way
they'd be able to continue to fight their opponents was behind the
facade of the X-Files.

Her ire spilled over despite her best efforts to harness its
intensity.  She turned to face him directly, "And where exactly are
you going to be, Mulder?  Living in the basement of the Hoover
building while we're in the Witness Protection Program?  No way!  I'm
not leaving you to fend for yourself.  Not now.  Not ever.  You're
still at great risk!  You can't work without me.  You can't cover
your own back.  I'm *not* leaving the X-Files!" 

Mulder opened and closed his mouth several times during her angry
response.  His efforts to interrupt were tempered by the fire he saw
in her eyes.  But he wasn't going to back down so easily.  

Coolly, he attempted to explain his reasoning, "You've suffered
enough, Scully.  I'm in a unique position to see this whole situation
from a different perspective.  If you hadn't been partnered with me
you'd be better off.  You'd have a husband and children, and you
wouldn't have to worry about being dragged off in the middle of the
night by men with no names."

"Being a Federal Agent is a dangerous job, Mulder.  There are a
hundred other ways I could have *suffered*.  I could be dead by now
without you beside me.  And I'm pretty sure you'd be long gone if I
hadn't rescued you innumerable times.  You can't tell me I'd be any
safer in a safe house.  I'd be a sitting duck in one of those
places.  And I won't even have you-- isn't that what you're
suggesting?  I should cut off my ties to you so I can raise our child
without a father!"

"If that's what it takes to keep you safe-- yes!  I'm willing to
sacrifice for your safety, for the baby's safety.  And he wouldn't be
without a father.  We'd find a way to see each other," he said,
trying to sound conciliatory.

She glared at him furiously.  This was too much.  When had he taken
it upon himself to plan out her life?  The long drive had provided
the perfect environment for a guilt-stricken, already confused Mulder
to invent the ultimate solution to their dilemma.  Why not ship
Scully and baby off to some clandestine locale where she could be
bored shitless until the birth?  Then let her continue to cower in
some safe house while Mulder took on the Consortium himself and tried
to make the world safe for democracy.  She would never accede to this
plan, never let him lock her away while he put his life on the line
for her, for her family.

"You are out of your mind!  I'm not going to sit around some dreary
suburban house guarded by Bureau flunkies while you do *our* work
and solve *our* problems.  Maybe simply being who you were eight
years ago isn't enough, Mulder!"

"What do you mean, not enough?" he shot back.

"It seems to me-- if we had somehow gotten involved when we first
started working together-- if I'd gotten pregnant, for whatever
reason... I might have been easier to convince of the validity of
this stupid scheme.  But I'm not that green anymore, and I'm not
willing to allow you to orchestrate my life.  You may have lost eight
years, but I haven't!  I won't allow your *lack* of perspective
to influence how we handle our lives!" she roared.

"Scully, you were twenty-nine years old in 1993!  I hardly think I
could have forced you into into any 'stupid scheme.'  I'm sure I
would have encountered the same resistance you're giving me right
now.  I'm not telling you to do anything.  I'm asking you to do
it-- for you, for the baby, for my peace of mind," he pleaded.

"It sure doesn't sound like a request, Mulder!  It sounds like an
ultimatum to me.  'I want you to get out.  Out of the X-Files.'  And
don't tell me your tone of voice didn't convey your resolve.  You
think you can coax me into going along with this madness.  I can spot
a psychologist's ploy a mile away," she reminded him.

Mulder heaved a sigh and shook his head in disbelief.  This was
ridiculous.  Scully would never accept his motives for asking her to
leave the X-Files, if only for a brief period of time.  He felt
powerless-- she had years of experience debating his theories and
opinions-- he had zilch.  Eight years had been stolen from him by
some unknown entity, including his ability to counter her arguments
successfully. 

The only difference between this disagreement and those they may
have bickered over during a case (and he could only imagine those
squabbles from second hand information) was its very personal nature.
Well, that was slightly incorrect, he thought-- they were both
central figures in several cases they'd worked on.

Scully had once said personal involvement was all she had without
the X-Files.  When he'd read those words yesterday, in the context in
which they were spoken, he'd been ashamed he disbelieved her at the
time.  He also could appreciate why he didn't validate her suspicions
immediately.  Diana had left him, but she'd never tried to harm 
him.  

How wrong he'd been-- blinding trusting Diana.  Her treachery was
revealed much later-- and Mulder could only hope she'd betrayed him
out of a desperate hope for survival, not because of ill will toward
himself and Scully.  

When he didn't respond to her remark, Scully added, "You don't have
a good comeback for that, do you, Mulder?  I know you'll use those
profiling skills any way you can.  You'd like to whittle down *my*
resolve, but you're sadly mistaken if you think I can.  I'd rather
have you pissed off at me than deny my child his father.  I will not
live like a fugitive.  I will not live without you or any of my
relatives or our friends around.  Live with it.  Because I won't be
changing my mind.  Ever."

She crossed her arms, resting them firmly on her chest.  Her
brothers had often teased her for being stubborn to a fault.  The
most rational arguments couldn't sway her when she decided she was
right, and they were wrong.  She could only be swayed by proof. 
Proof she couldn't climb as high as they could.  Proof she couldn't
convince Mom and Dad to let her go out on a school night.  There had
to be a verifiable reason why she couldn't accomplish something.

Scully's attitude served her well in school, as she constantly faced
barriers and tore them down.  Her family had been proud of her, but
by no means surprised when she graduated top of her class or when she
entered medical school after graduating magna cum laude.  Her
willfulness paid off in any arena she entered.

This might have been what shocked her parents so much when she
announced she was going to join the FBI.  There was no reason for her
to challenge herself this way, no reason for her to fight so hard
anymore.  All she had to do was make it through her residency and
she'd have a successful medical practice.  However, there would have
been nothing left to prove.  It would have been so easy to take the
path of least resistance, to leap into a medical career.  

She never was one to take the easy way out.  She became interested
in forensic medicine because it was such a challenge for her,
physically and mentally.  She wouldn't settle for a comfortable
coroner's job, either.  She wanted demands made of her-- stimulating
discussion, intriguing cases.  

After passing all the entrance exams, all the rigorous tests, to
become a field agent, she'd found herself teaching at Quantico.  It
had been interesting initially, teaching fledgling agents the
peculiarities of her field.  Ultimately, it was disappointing.  She'd
been able to apply her knowledge in the morgue or laboratory, but
she never was called out to a crime scene, never experienced the
excitement of a stakeout.

Being assigned to Mulder as a field agent had been the best thing to
happen to her since she'd joined the FBI.  They were on the road,
investigating, in the thick of things-- and the excitement, the sense
of accomplishment she'd yearned for was satisfied by their work. 

Scully's intellect was stimulated by Mulder's outrageous, sometimes
brilliant deductions.  He was the perfect match for her; she required
the use of all her abilities and personal resources to keep up with
his sharp mind.  In spite of some initial distrust on his part (well-
founded, considering who'd handpicked her to debunk him) he'd
demonstrated himself to be fairminded and honorable in all respects.

So asking her to hide from the world, from the power their
relationship gave to both of them, was ludicrous.  If he didn't
realize this-- it was only because he'd lost so much, been through so
much, the last few months.  She looked over at her frustrating,
defiant partner, his body language a reflection of her own.

She started to laugh.  She laughed so hard, she doubled over as far
as her pregnancy would allow, and tears of joy streamed down her
face.  She started to hiccup, an unfortunate side effect of all the
indigestion her hormonally-charged body experienced daily.  This
provoked her into hysterical giggles and was the final undoing of
Mulder.  

He was almost offended she wasn't taking the discussion seriously
enough, when he realized how pigheaded he'd been.  There was no black
and white solution to their problem.  He should have known better. 
Frankly, even a few days away from Scully at this point would be to
his detriment.  He needed her.  He loved her.  They'd have to stay
together, no matter what they decided to do about the baby or the X-
Files.  

He grinned back at her, then slipped across the seat so he could pat
her gently on the back, trying to ease her hiccups.  When that remedy
didn't work, he practiced the only other surefire cure he knew of--
he started to kiss her, molding his mouth to hers until her
respirations were even, and she was clinging to him like a vine
around a trellis.

She left his mouth reluctantly, lowering her eyes as she pulled
away.  His hands swept over her cheeks, mopping up the wet tears
she'd shed.  

"I'm sorry, Scully.  I guess I've been saying that a lot lately, but
I really am sorry I underestimated you.  I shouldn't ask you to do
something I wouldn't be able to do myself.  We'll get through this
somehow.  I promise to be less of an asshole if you forgive me," he
proffered.

"Oh, Mulder," she said, grasping his hand tightly to give him some
physical sign of absolution.  "Of course, I forgive you."  

"Not the first time you've been this pissed at me, huh?" he asked.

"No, not the first time, nor the last time.  But at least we're
together now.  I thank God for that every day, Mulder.  You have no
idea--"

"I do, Scully.  I don't think I could stand to be without you for a day,
much less five months worth of days."

He leaned over to kiss her cheek, then said, "I'm so proud of you. 
I want to show you to the world.  I don't want you to hide away until
the baby's born."

"Well, we'll be going to Mom's on Sunday.  I'll be showing you off
in a way.  If you can survive my family--"

"I know, Scully.  I read about Bill.  It's easy to understand how
he'd feel about me.  I had a little sister, too.  We fought all the
time, but I was her big brother, her protector.  I can only imagine
the crap I would have given someone I felt was unworthy of her."

"He'll behave.  You have my word on it," she said, straightening the
wayward cuff on his jacket.

"I can believe that, if you're there," he quipped.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Mulder.  But, I'm afraid we won't
be getting to the house any faster if you don't let me get back to
driving,"  she advised.

"Was this our first official fight as an expectant couple?" he asked
with a grin.

"Yeah.  Our first knock-down, drag out.  There'll be more where this
one came from if we don't get going!  The pregnant lady needs to
visit the first gas station on the way."

"Those woods look pretty deep over there," he jested.

"Shut up, Mulder," she responded, punching him playfully in the arm.

fin

Almost Home (10/?)
By Shoshana

February 22nd, 2001
Thursday
2:30 p.m.
The Mulder Summer Home, Quonochontaug, Rhode Island

The white frame building was sorely neglected, paint was peeling
from the eaves, its windows were covered in filth.  The Gunmen had
been kind enough not to mention how decrepit the structure had
become, but Scully wished they had.  The look of dismay on Mulder's
face said it all; he'd never seen it so rundown.

Teena Mulder must have scheduled regular maintenance on the home
when she was alive.  Mulder had been too busy or preoccupied to do so
last year and it certainly wasn't foremost in Scully's mind after his
abduction last September.  So the yard was overgrown with weeds and
cluttered with trash.  

Scully was surprised the city fathers hadn't sent Mulder a nasty
letter yet.  Evidently most of the decay had occurred since last
September when the summer residents all scurried back to their larger
homes in Massachusetts or elsewhere.  The year round residents most
likely ignored the place's condition, thankful to be rid of traffic
jams and long lines at the grocery store which seasonal residents
brought to town.

His shock quickly turned to resignation as they walked toward the
front door.  With a wan smile on his lips and a half-hearted shrug,
he turned to Scully and quipped, "Welcome home."

"Oh, Mulder.  It's not that bad.  Anyway, it hasn't been like this 
long.  It's one of those details that got lost in the hundred
other things you had to do after your mom passed away."  She reached
over and grasped his hand firmly.  "We're only here for a few days. 
Let's go in."

He smiled and pulled his key out of his jean pocket.  It opened
easily; it was a new lock, courtesy of their friends' handiwork. 
They entered the house, and disabled the alarm.  Most of the
furniture was covered with white sheets or clear plastic covers. 
Several millimeters of dust covered everything, disturbed only by
hand or thumbprints left behind by the Gunmen as they accomplished
their tasks.

The air was musty and it was chillier inside the house than it had
been outdoors.  Mulder shivered, not from the temperature so much but
from the knowledge his whole family was deceased now, would never
gather in this home again.  They were apparitional creatures,
haunting this cold, shadowy place.

He moved to the back of the house and threw open the patio doors. 
Somehow the backyard didn't look so awful.  The grass had always
grown high back there; the path leading to the sea had always been
rocky and unkempt.  He had some wonderful memories from his old life
here, mostly ones having to do with Samantha, the seashore, and
sandlot baseball games.

Scully walked out the door and stood several feet away from him,
gazing out at the churning Atlantic.  At that moment, watching her
breathe in the salty seaside aroma, he realized how premature it was
to listen to this haven's death knell.  They'd soon have a baby to
bring to this place; a son who would love to crawl through the thick
grass and play in the sand.  His family hadn't vanished into the
netherworld; his lover and his unborn child were alive and well
beside him.

He walked up behind her, threading his arms under the suede material
of her jacket, and pulled her close to his chest.  He kissed her neck
once, then positioned his chin on her shoulder so they could stare
out at the vista before them.  She caught his hands, placing them
just below her breasts, just above the curve of her belly.

"This is such a splendid place, Mulder.  The house can be mended. 
It's the view that counts," she said optimistically.  She rubbed her
hands against his briskly, warming them both.

"It's not only the place, Scully.  It's the company I keep," he
breathed in her ear.  

She shuddered against him, chilled by the brisk February wind, but
warmed by the low whisper of the man she loved.  She rubbed her
cheek against the rough texture of his jaw, then turned within the
shelter of his arms, facing his unshaven countenance.  

She lifted both hands to caress him with her thumbs, then said,
"Lazy guy, didn't shave today, huh?"

"Thought I'd wait for nightfall.  And a reason for being clean-
shaven," he teased.

"Oh, you *are* so confident, aren't you?" she retorted, pinching one
cheek with her thumb and forefinger.

"Ouch!  Okay, not so confident.  Just hopeful," he answered, leaning
his forehead against hers for just a few seconds before trailing soft
kisses down the now familiar bridge of her nose, then descending 
slowly to its very tip.  His lips continued downward, in pursuit of 
her rose-colored mouth.

After one languid kiss, she pushed him gently away.  "Let's go for a
walk, Mulder.  I don't think I've ever seen the beach here."

"All right," he responded.  "Just let me reset the alarm and close
these doors."

He turned toward the house and sprinted inside, grabbing an old
afghan off a chair in case it got too cold.  He didn't see Scully
outside the patio doors, so he quickly secured them, then raced down
the grassy knoll leading to the shoreline.  He spotted her once he
got a hundred yards off the Mulder property, slowly making her way
down the well-trod path to the sea.

He caught up with her within thirty seconds, annoyed she'd gone off
without him.  "Scully, wait up," he gasped breathlessly, grabbing her
elbow with one hand.

She paused in her tracks, arms akimbo.  "Gonna have to get back in
shape, Agent Mulder," she joked.

"Not funny, Scully.  Don't take off like that!  You may be armed,
but you're not that dangerous."  He let go of her arm and leaned
over, placing one hand on his knee for support as he recovered from
his dash down the slope.  His other hand still clutched around the
old blanket as he struggled for air.

She raised one eyebrow, questioning his assertion.  "Don't make me
prove you wrong."

Straightening his spine as he regained his composure, he shook his
head, rolling his eyes heavenward.  "You know what I mean, Scully. 
You have to take me seriously on this.  You're in no shape for hand-
to-hand combat!  Let me protect you."  He extended his free hand to
her, palm facing upward, and entreated her, "Please."  His voice
reflected the anxiety he'd felt moments before.

Scully shrugged her shoulders and gave him a wry smile.  "I guess
so."  She studied the ground between them, one hand still poised on
each hip.  "I guess it's time to relinquish some control-- "  Her
eyes lifted to meet his worried ones.  "I've had to be very assertive
lately.  The society for the protection and care of Ms. Dana Scully
was getting on my nerves.  Even when I told the guys I was going to
be fine, that I didn't need a ride to the grocery... they insisted on
taking me."

Mulder laughed and reached for her hands, taking them off her hips
and into his own.  The afghan fell to the ground between them. 
"They're good people.  I'm glad they worried about you."

"Yeah, well the last few weeks since I stopped working have been
boring as hell.  I haven't even filled you in on everything that's
gone on at the office."

"You told me about your temporary partner.  I'm surprised he
survived as long as he did," he said, tightening his grip on her
hands when she tried to wrest them away.  "It's true," he grinned,
"He must be very tolerant."

"Mulder!"  She smiled back, cheerfully accepting his gentle taunts. 
His perceptions were on the mark, if not a little too frank for her
ego.  She'd been very fair to Charlie Huber.  At least she'd thought
so at the time.  Perhaps she'd been a little aloof at first, but
she'd warmed to him after awhile.  She'd never bossed him around. 
No, never.

"Truth hurts," he teased, pulling her close and wrapping his arms
around her.  The wind was increasing in velocity from a northeasterly
direction and Scully shivered in its forty degree blast.  Mulder bent
down to retrieve the blanket from the ground.

"Put this around your shoulders, Scully," he offered, unfurling the
dusty thing.

She complied, preferring his arms, but realizing they'd never make
any progress down the beach if she were clinging to him.  It was warm
and woolen and looked like something Mulder's grandmother had
crocheted for a formerly happy family.

They walked along the sand without conversation for several hundred
yards.  One of her hands held the wrap around her, the other was
entwined with Mulder's larger one.

"What was our first kiss like?" he asked out of the blue.

"Huh!?  I thought you'd caught up with your journal reading,
Mulder," she said, hoping to avoid a play by play narration of the
night in question.

"Nope.  I've been too busy with hypnotherapy, techno nerds, and my
new roommate," he responded playfully.

"Roommate.  Good euphemism, Mulder.  I'll try using that this Sunday
when we see Bill.  'Bill, meet the father of my unborn child, my
roommate.'  I'm not responsible for what happens after that, Mulder. 
You'll have to defend yourself-- he's already mad as hell..."  

Her voice trailed off as she noticed the abrupt change in Mulder's
facial expression.  She stopped walking forward and said, "Mulder,
I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to bring that up.  I don't care what he
thinks-- about the baby, or about us.  All I care about is being with
you, sharing this time with you."

Mulder squeezed her fingers tightly and made a dismissive gesture in
the air with his free hand.  "I know, Scully."  He paused, looking at
the sandy terrain below their feet.  "But, I have to agree with Bill,
Scully.  We ought to be married.  If only to please your Mom," he
added.

She closed her eyes, an uneven smile on her lips.  "Mom is very
pleased, and there's no pressure either way from her.  There won't be
from me, either.  I think we have enough to deal with right now; we
don't need the extra pressure of planning a wedding, too."

"No, not a wedding, Scully.  Just a ceremony," he said earnestly. 
"Why can't we just make it legal?"

Scully took several long breaths.  "We will.  We can.  I don't want
to get married because of what Bill wants.  Or Mom, for that matter. 
I know you want to do the right thing, but sometimes it's best to
wait.  You've just been through a tremendously confusing experience,
one which hasn't resolved itself yet.  I think we both need time to
reacquaint ourselves with one another."

Mulder worried his bottom lip with his teeth, solemnly considering
her words.  He knew she was right, but he wanted to extract some
promise from her today, some assurance she'd adhere to his wishes. 
After all, it wasn't like he was asking her to run away to Las Vegas
on the spur of the moment.  

They certainly had good reason to get married; he very much wanted
to legitimize the baby in society's eyes.  It wasn't only about
outward appearances though-- he hadn't felt this way about a woman in
years, ever since Diana had left him for greener pastures.  He wasn't
sure why he needed Scully so much... perhaps because he'd lost so
much lately; there were so many memories he might never recover.  He
wanted to rebuild his life around her, and he needed to know she'd
accept him completely-- as her husband, and the father of their
child.    

Mulder smiled at her affectionately, leaning down to kiss her on the
cheek.  "All right.  You're right."  She beamed back at him.  "Just
this once."

"Just once?  I think I've been right more than that," she alleged.

"You probably have, Scully.  I'll take your word on it.  Now tell me
about our first kiss and I'll postpone our marital plans.  Deal?" he
proferred.

She scrunched up her nose in obvious distaste for this 'deal.' 
She'd tried to avoid further conversation on their first kiss and
been rewarded with a dispute over marriage.  Too bad it hadn't lasted
long enough to distract him completely from his original question.

Scully bit her lower lip, then tossed her head to one side,
pretending to ponder a response.  It was all pretense; she just
wanted to postpone this stupid rehash of their New Year's Eve kiss. 
She'd peeked at his diary and read how disappointed he'd been with
her initial reaction.  She knew what had happened later, when they
arrived at her apartment building, and wished she could skip to that
part of the story.  

"Scully?  Is there something I should know?  I would have asked you
this eventually, even after reading my journal entry.  I purposefully
left it at the apartment.  I want to hear about some things from your
perspective, not my own."  

Mulder only persisted in his inquiry because she seemed so reluctant to
spill the details.  After reading what happened to her in his hallway
in 1998, he needed some reassurance nothing abysmally wrong had
occurred the day of their first kiss.

"Okay."  She took his hand and started walking slowly down the beach
again, glancing at him often as she spoke.  "I'll play.  We'd just
rescued you from some zombies-- "

"What?" he snickered.

"Zombies.  Zombies created to speed the end of the world, the advent
of the apocalypse."  She threw him a look of disgust.  "Mulder, if
you're going to interrupt me at this point, I won't continue."

He waved his hand in the air, offering her the floor.  He puckered
his lips, exaggerating his silent promise.

"As I was saying-- it was New Year's Eve, 1999.  Not really the
Millennium, but what most people perceive as the Millennium," she
reminded him.  "Four FBI agents were transformed into zombies by a
man who thought he was doing God's work.  To make a long story short,
you ended up in a basement surrounded by the undead, and  I arrived
in time to save you and Frank Black.  You remember him, don't you?"

"That I do.  He was legendary when I was at the academy."

"Well, he was helping you out on the case.  I'd tell you *his* story,
but we'd never get to the point, so I'll tell you about that later 
on.  We all ended up in a hospital waiting room close to midnight.  
Frank left with his daughter and we stayed to watch the ball drop
on the television monitor."

"So we were surrounded by people?" he asked.

"Not really.  Hospital personnel were having a party, of course, not
far from where we stood.  We were pretty much by ourselves, watching
people on TV kiss in Times Square."

"So what happened, Scully?" he prompted.  He was like a kid being
told a bedtime story too slowly. 

"I'm getting to that!  Have patience.  You had your right arm in a
sling, and I had some injuries on my neck.  We were both transfixed
by the images on the television, by the countdown, by Dick Clark's
voice, I guess."

"I'm *sure* I wasn't thinking about his voice, Scully."

"No, you weren't," she chuckled.  She stopped walking so she could
finish telling him the tale.  "I knew you were leaning in toward me. 
I felt your breath, the heat of your body.  I didn't want to turn
away.  Even if you only intended to give me a New Year's Kiss as a
friend, Mulder... I wouldn't have turned away."

"Did you enjoy it?" he questioned softly.

"It was nice."  She noticed Mulder's tiny grimace.  "No, really.  It
lasted just long enough.  We were in public, after all.  Everyone
knew we were FBI partners.  I think you did the right thing, keeping
it chaste.  If you hadn't... "

"What?  What would have happened?" he asked with a smile.

Scully let out a laugh.  "What would have happened?  Exactly what
happened when we pulled up in front of your apartment thirty minutes
later."

"Oh," he said, smiling to himself.  "So, Scully... if we didn't get
together till April... was New Year's Eve more like my high school 
prom than my college days?"

"Heh, you could say that.  I definitely put the brakes on things
before they went too far.  But what happened in the car was far
better than our first kiss, Mulder.  It was... intense."

"But a little too much for dead tired federal agents sporting
injuries?" he guessed.

"That had a lot to do with it, but also I wanted to think about how
it would change our relationship.  I never wanted you to think I was
rejecting you.  That's not why I made you go up to your apartment
alone.  I just needed a little time."

"'Had we but world enough, and time, this coyness lady were no
crime," Mulder quoted from memory, raising his eyebrows at the
conclusion of the line.

"Yes, I know.  I'm just as familiar with that poetic argument as you
are, Mulder.  'The grave's a fine and private place, but none I think
do there embrace,'" she recited back to him quickly.

"'Let us roll all our strength, and all our sweetness, up into one
ball:  and tear our pleasures with rough strife, through the iron
gates of life. Thus, though we cannot make our sun stand still, yet
we will make him run.'  I knew there was a reason for eighth-grade
English class, Scully," he mused.

"Well, seventeenth century poetry will always impress the girls,
Mulder," she answered.

He moved toward her slowly, stealthily, as if he were stalking her. 
"What else can I do to impress you today, Ms. Scully?"    

Mulder stood mere inches away from her, arms slack at his sides. 
His smile exuded mischief and she gleamed right back at him.  It was
a virtual standoff-- how close could they get, how long could they
maintain their composure? 

They grinned at one another in spellbound silence, waiting patiently
for one of them to crack.  It only took a few more minutes of torture
for Mulder to relent, extending his hand to Scully.  He hoped to
reinact their New Year's Eve festivities, and he knew the perfect
place to take a girl, having spent several teenage summers on the
island. 

She wasn't a teenaged girl, and it wasn't summer in the least, but
Mulder felt the years melt around them-- he boldly led her toward
a memory they could recapture from his past. 

fin


Almost Home (11/?)
By Shoshana

February 22nd, 2001
Thursday
5:00 p.m.
The Mulder Summer Home, Quonochontaug, Rhode Island

"I can't believe they did it, Scully!  I can't see why they had to
destroy a magnificent grove of trees for a parking lot!"  Mulder
stormed into the house, still irritated by his recent discovery.

"It's all right, Mulder.  We had a good walk anyway," she soothed.

"But, don't you see, Scully?"  He turned to her, opening his palms
in a gesture of frustration.  "That was someplace I remembered so
well, had such great memories of.  I wanted to share it with you and
it wasn't there."

She gave him a dubious look, attempting to relate to his dilemma. 
"Mulder, my family moved around so much when I was a kid I was lucky
to stay in one place two summers in a row.  You're lucky you have
your memories--"

He interrupted her swiftly, "But I don't have my memories, Scully. 
I've lost eight years of precious memories.  The loss of that special
place means more to me than you know.  I know I sound like a 
two-year-old having a tantrum, but it just pissed me off so bad...
Okay, all right, let's switch gears.  I'm sure you're sick of hearing
about it.  I've already talked your ear off for the last half hour."

She smiled, her lips parting slightly.  She shook her head from side
to side, telling him she wasn't irritated in the least.  "I enjoyed
those stories about your dating disasters, Mulder."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't dare tell you about my successful soirees in
the forest," he joked, waggling his eyebrows.

She stepped closer to him and punched him gently with her loosely-
closed fist.  "I think there are limits to 'things we have to tell
our significant other,'" she teased.

"Oh, is that what I am now?" he answered, lowering his hands to her
waist and dipping his head to kiss her brow.

"Very significant other, okay?  Make you feel better?"

"Much.  But I know what would make *you* feel even better, Scully."

"What's that?" she said, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

Mulder smiled and paused, waiting for her to become impatient for
his answer.  He enjoyed toying with her; she was so easy to frustrate
when he kept her guessing.

"Come on, Mulder.  No games.  I'm hungry as hell and not in the mood
for charades."

"Actually," he said, stroking her cheek with his hand, "Hunger has
something to do with it."

"Is that a clue or an innuendo, Mulder?  Because I'm way too
ravenous to indulge in certain activities.  I'm eating for two, don't
you forget!"  She punctuated her statement with one jab of her
forefinger to his chest.  

He chuckled at her annoyance, and grabbed the offending digit,
kissing it tenderly.  "Scully, how could you think such a thing? 
That I would deny you sustenance to fulfill my own longings?" 

"Not if you're smart, G-man.  I have cravings of my own, you know." 
She freed her hand, lifting it to his chin.  "Now, let's get over to
the supermarket before they close.  I feel my urge for submarine
sandwiches and Ben and Jerry's cancelling out your 'longings.'" 
    
The nearest grocery store was in Charlestown and they made it there
just in time to do some shopping.  Mulder and Scully had been to
supermarkets all over the United States, but rarely as a couple. 
Scully had insisted on keeping a low profile in the DC area,
especially after they'd become intimate.  

It was difficult enough to deflect rumors at work, much less if they
were spotted in their own communities.  Mulder had always thought
this slightly ridiculous.  It was unlikely anyone cared enough to
split up their partnership, but he went along with Scully's cautious
attitude. 

There was really no point to concealing their relationship now;
everyone assumed the baby was Mulder's, and Scully never did anything
to disavow that notion.  She was delighted to stroll up and down the
aisles of the establishment, Mulder's warm hand on her shoulder as
she wheeled the cart through an obstacle course of displays and other
shoppers.

"Mulder, please get those for me, will you?" she asked, pointing to
the package of Mallomar cookies on the top shelf.  

Scully's eyes pleaded sympathy for the mad desires of a hormonally
challenged woman shopping on an empty stomach.  Two empty stomachs to
be precise.  His lips curved into a doting little smile.  She wielded
complete power over him in this situation.  He'd obey her every
request.  Or so she thought.

"What ever happened to bee pollen, yogurt, and tofutti bars,
Scully?" he teased.

"How? How do you know about that?" she said with surprise.

"I have my sources," he answered mysteriously.

"Those rat finks!  Snitches!  It's all their fault I went off my
health food diet and started eating junk food!" she asserted.

"Oh, yeah.  They must have forced you to acquire a taste for Chunky
Monkey and Mallomars."

Scully's face flushed, irate, but also embarrassed.  She'd been
having trouble during the first few months gaining weight because of
her restrictive diet.  The Lone Gunmen had taken it upon themselves
to lead her into temptation, bringing over pizza and doughnuts
whenever they had a strategy session.  

Her willpower had crumbled after a month of delicious sights and
smells all around her.  In retrospect, it was a godsend; *they* were
a godsend.  She gained enough weight immediately, maintaining an
exercise program to offset any excess calories.  She knew she
shouldn't feel self-conscious about her eating habits while pregnant,
but the mere thought of Frohike, Byers, and Langly discussing them
with Mulder upset her.

"Hey," Mulder said gently, smoothing his hand across the nape of her
neck.  "It's just a joke.  We weren't sitting around making cracks
about your figure.  They thought it was cute when you fell off the
wagon."

Scully glared at him and said, "I don't do cute, Mulder."

He chuckled and leaned over to peck her cheek.  "Adorable, then," he
teased.

She swatted him away playfully, barely suppressing a smile.  "Time
to hit the ice cream aisle, Mulder.  And Chunky Monkey's not my
favorite anymore," she advised.

She loved shopping with Mulder.  It was about time she could share
this small dose of domesticity with him.  The guys had accompanied
her on many trips to the grocery store, and she'd always felt so
forlorn when well-intentioned people would congratulate one of them
on the baby.  She would nod and smile at perfect strangers, never
bothering to correct them.

All that aggravation was in the past, now that she had Mulder by her
side.  He escorted her around the store like a fertile goddess, hand
pressed against her lower back.  There were some very attractive
women doing some last minute shopping after work, but he only had
eyes for her.  Her insecurities were consoled by that, but not
entirely erased.  

She still had doubts they'd succeed at becoming a family, not
because they didn't care about one another, but because of Mulder's
unaccountable amnesia.  They didn't know all the long-term effects it
would have on him psychologically.  She planned on tracking down
other similar cases on the internet as soon as they got back to DC. 
She wanted to know if other patients were able to reconcile with
their families, and start new lives without their precious memories
intact.

"Scully?" he whispered in her ear.

"Huh?"  She snapped out of her reverie, realizing it was taking her
way too long to decide on her new favorite flavor.  

"Hard to decide?" he asked, warming her now freezing cold hand with
his fingers.  She'd rested her hand on the case while lost in thought
and it was about ten seconds away from turning an unattractive blue
color.

"You choose," she demanded.

"Ah, Scully.  I've never had Ben and Jerry's.  I don't think they
went national till recently because I can't remember eating any of
these strange flavors.  But on the name alone, I think we should take
home some Cherry Garcia."

He let go of her hand and fished out a couple of pints of that
flavor, throwing some Chunky Monkey into the cart for good measure.

"How's the Grateful Dead doing, anyway?  Are they still a band?" he
asked.

Scully's eyes softened with regret, and she let out a little sigh. 
"Oh, Mulder.  Jerry Garcia's dead.  The band's probably still
together, but he passed away.  I don't even recall what was wrong
with him."

"Wow.  He wasn't even that old," Mulder wondered.

"No, he wasn't," she said ruefully.

"Well," he said, perking up a little as he put his arm around her
shoulder, "at least his name lives on.  I doubt Cherry Mulder or
Scully will ever become a household name."

"Not unless it's our household!  And I definitely think our names
are going to live on," she asserted, raising her hand to her belly.

Mulder leaned down and warmed her lips, chilled from too much
speculation in the frozen foods aisle.  They ignored the rest of the
world for a minute, celebrating their little effort at posterity.  

"Come on, Scully," he said, commandeering her cart, "Let's check 
out."

She insisted on paying for the food since he'd gassed the car up
before they'd left DC.  He peered over her shoulder, curious about
something he should have discovered by now.  His eyes went wide when
he realized what tomorrow was.  

Mulder couldn't let this happen again.  His journal had several
anecdotes detailing valiant efforts to compensate for all those
forgotten birthdays.  He'd even taught her to play baseball under the
pretense it was a very late birthday present.

He wasn't fooled by that.  He had a pretty good idea why he'd taken
her out for batting lessons that night.  His motives had been far
from innocent, even though he didn't get very far with the object of
his affection.  Surely he would have mentioned in his diary if things
had progressed beyond gentle touches and hand holding.

He'd have to work fast, make a few phone calls in the morning when
she was otherwise occupied.  He could still redeem himself in this
respect.  He *would* remember her birthday this year.

"Mulder?" she questioned, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

"Oh, sorry.  Just thinking about something," he answered 
sheepishly.  

Mulder gathered up the few bags they had and followed her out to the
car.  His mind was racing, trying to recall where his mother had hid
her jewelry in the summer house.  He knew one item she'd kept there
was perfect for Scully.  At least it would do until he could find
something better to give her.  If she would let him, he mused.  

Scully seemed a lot less concerned about tying the knot than he was.
He couldn't blame her--he wasn't considered the most stable
individual in the world.  He thought she might feel otherwise, but 
when you added rumors of insanity to his current amnesia... his 
psychological profile wasn't all that promising.  

He'd learned enough about amnesiacs in school to know what he was up
against.  Those who successfully reintegrated into society had
excellent support at home and good reasons to stay there.  He knew he
would have all that and more, but he was still scared he'd screw up
somehow, someway.  He shoved his insecurities to the back of his mind
and concentrated on driving.  

They didn't say much on the way home.  He'd glance over at her
occasionally, but she seemed preoccupied with her own thoughts.  The
sun had set an hour ago and he couldn't wait to get back and kindle a
fire on the hearth.  

Hopefully, some sparks would fly between the two of them tonight. 
She needn't worry whether he found her attractive during her
pregnancy.  He was fascinated by her swollen breasts, her round, soft
hips.  He would never look at angular, pencil thin models the same
way again.        

Scully insisted on helping with the groceries so Mulder could unlock
the door and disable the security system.  The electricity and heat
had been activated by the Lone Gunmen, so all they needed to do was
uncover some furniture and set the table for dinner.

"Mulder, I'm going to change my clothes upstairs.  Why don't you
build a fire and I'll be down in a minute."

He grabbed her before she could leave the kitchen, kissing her long
and hard.  He wanted her so much--and knew she wanted him too, if
her reaction to their kiss was any clue.  They parted for a breath,
then swayed in one another's arms a few minutes before she pulled
away.

"Hey," she reminded him softly, "we've got the whole weekend
together.  I'll be right down."  She ran her fingers down his cheek,
a caress and a promise for the night to come.

Mulder went about the business of starting a fire on the hearth. 
There was plenty of firewood.  No one had used the house for years
and it was still stacked neatly in the corner.

He found silverware and plates just where they'd always been, a
circumstance which gave him great pleasure.  The rest of his life was
out of sync, sometimes unrecognizable to the one he'd left behind. 
Not so here.  Everything made sense here, familiar and in the same
place as always.  He knew they couldn't stay here the rest of their
lives, but at least this weekend would give him some peace.

Scully came down the stairs as he was pulling out the subs and soft
drinks.  She was wearing a long chenille robe over flannel pajamas.  

"Nice change of clothes," he said, walking over so he could smooth
her unruly collar down under just-brushed silken hair.

"It's a lot more comfortable," she responded, tugging at his sweater
meaningfully.  "I laid out some sweats for you.  Why don't you go
change, too?"

"All right.  But don't do anything I wouldn't do.  I mean,
foodwise," he amended.

"Mulder, you're truly nuts."  She sent him on his way with a well-
practiced swat to his rear and headed back into the kitchen.

Several hours later, they reclined on the musty couch, Mulder
spooned closely behind her.  They'd made it through sandwiches and
two pints of ice cream with no problem at all.  Scully was still a
little concerned about his general health.  He was lighter than he'd
been for years, and she feared the dizziness he'd experienced in the
doctor's office might recur.

"Hey, Mulder."  

They were listening to his old Beatle and Motown records from the
sixties.  Mulder knew every lyric of every song on every album.  He
was singing along to 'Respect' in a questionable falsetto as they
lay cuddled against one another. 

"What you want... yeah, Scully?"

Mulder nuzzled her hair fondly.  She smelled so familiar, as though
they'd nestled like this after every evening meal for many years.  He
didn't know whether to attribute this ease to his subconscious or to
the instant rapport they'd had since Monday night.  Why bother to
question what was so pleasant to accept?

"I still don't understand why you didn't exhibit any symptoms of
weightlessness," she questioned.

"Never left the ground, probably," he posited.

"I know.  I've thought of that.  It's possible what Skinner saw was
an optical illusion.  They wanted him to believe you were taken into
space."

"But I remembered being on a spaceship in Dr. Werber's office.  Of
course, there weren't any window seats, Scully.  I could have been
anywhere.  The aliens might have been little men dressed as aliens. 
They might have had me under the influence of powerful drugs before
they wiped out my memories."

Scully shifted around so she could see his face and brought one
slender hand to his cheek.  Mulder didn't appear too anxious--calmly
discussing the only experiences the hypnotic regression had allowed
him to remember.  He was still angry about the abduction, but was
slowly accepting the notion he might never find out where he'd been
incarcerated for five months time.

"Do you want to find out?  Is it important to you?" she asked,
stroking her hand through his thick, brown hair.  Someone had kept
him well-groomed all this time; the hair was a nice length and still
lustrous.

"Only if it helps me to protect you and the baby, Scully," he
affirmed.  "I'm interested in finding out if the other abductees were
returned to their homes in Oregon.  I know you've kept me away from
Hoover for good reasons, but when we get back to DC we'll have to
sneak back into the office and use our resources."

"Oh, I think if Teresa and Billy return to Bellefleur the Lone
Gunmen will tell us," she answered.

"I guess you're right.  But don't you think we ought to get in touch
with the authorities there?  Tell them to comb the woods and look for
local people?  I'm curious why I was returned alone."

"Maybe they're back already and the information's been suppressed. 
I don't know what to tell you.  I'll ask the guys when we get back. 
You know I have a doctor's visit on Monday, don't you?" she asked,
tickling his chin with her nose.

"Of course.  You told me Tuesday.  I do remember a few things,
Scully," he said with mock indignation.  He kissed her fine hair,
then moved along to her ear, eliciting giggles when he wiggled his
tongue against it.

"Stop!" she cried, squirming in his arms.  He refused to let her go,
giving his full attention to her graceful neck, the next item on his
menu.

She relaxed as his caresses became more arousing than bothersome;
his interest was welcome if it felt this provocative.  He traced her
jawline with his moist lips, then traversed her chin with an erotic
slowness that made her shudder inside.  

Mulder finally kissed her, driving his tongue against hers with
finesse.  Scully loved to neck like this with him; she always had. 
But she thought he might expect more tonight, and she was ready to
offer it.

"Want to go upstairs?" she asked coyly, pulling back from his face a
scant few inches.

He smiled back; his darkened eyes surveying her warm gaze.  "Not
yet.  We're just getting started, aren't we?"

Scully's face was flushed with desire, but she was happy to take
this slow.  She was so well acquainted with his handsome features, so
familiar with his gentle, roving hands.  She had to remind herself 
that every nuance of their lingering kisses was remarkable to 
Mulder.  

She was conversant with every inch of his body, well preserved in
both her nighttime fantasies and daytime musings.  In contrast, it
was a voyage of discovery every time he trailed his hands from her
brow to the tips of her fingers.  The look of wonder on his face was
worth the wait.  There'd always been more to their lovemaking than
intercourse.  He was clearly content taking the long way home.

Mulder kissed her once, then surprised her by disentangling their
limbs and gently shifting her to one side.  He sat up on the other
end of the couch and Scully joined him, easing her body weight to a
sitting position.

"What?" she asked, mildly annoyed at the loss of contact with his
warm body on this chilly night.  

The fireplace wasn't raging with heat anymore.  Someone would have
to feed the fire.  She decided to do it herself, since he made no
movement whatsoever, grinning at her from the other end of the couch.

"Whoa, sit down, Scully.  I'll get that," he announced, reading her
mind.

Mulder threw another log onto the hearth and used the poker to get
it burning reasonably well.  He reached over to one side of the
mantelpiece and grabbed a little box from behind an old chiming
clock.  She expressed her curiosity by elevating one crimson eyebrow
skyward.

"What's that?" she queried.

He smiled enigmatically, then sat down on the couch, leaving a foot
or so between them.

"I remembered where my mom kept all her summer jewelry.  She kept
something there she'd always promised to Samantha."

"Oh, Mulder.  You can't!  Don't give me--" 

He held up one hand and silenced her protests.  "No, Scully.  It's
something my mom would have wanted to be passed on to the next
generation.  Now that I know what happened to Samantha--"  He paused
to swallow a small lump in his throat, then continued, "Anyway, she'd
want you to wear this."

Mulder opened the plain white box and produced a golden ring, a
modest emerald set in between two smaller diamonds.  "I don't know if
it will fit.  It was my grandmother's.  I was so young when she
passed away."  

His thoughts drifted to all the times he'd seen this item on his
grandma's slim hand and he struggled to contain a few tears.  Scully
scooted over on the couch and stroked his forearms as he clutched the
box in his hands.

"I'd love to wear it, Mulder.  It's lovely.  She must have been a
special grandmother," she said quietly.

"She was," he murmured, slipping the ring on her left hand.  

Scully allowed him to do so, knowing it belonged there.  It was a
promise for the future, their future.  She wasn't opposed to
marriage, but she wanted him to feel self-assured before they made a
lifetime commitment.  

There was still an air of hesitancy in his touch sometimes.  Not the
cool confidence he'd exuded before--the cocky possessiveness that
had both annoyed and enthralled her.  He'd develop those traits soon
enough; they were already part of him, waiting to be drawn out by the
love of a strong woman.

"It fits," Scully proclaimed, lifting her hand toward the fire so
all the beautiful facets would reflect the light.  She leaned over to
kiss him on the lips briefly, then caught his hands in her own.  "Now
can we go upstairs?" she complained mildly.

They laughed in unison and Mulder brought her bejewelled hand to his
lips for closer inspection.  "Yes, I think we can," he replied.    

fin


Almost Home (12/?)
By Shoshana

This chapter is rated NC-17.

February 22nd, 2001
Thursday
9:00 p.m.
The Mulder Summer Home, Quonochontaug, Rhode Island

"This usually works better without any clothes on, Mulder."

She was standing between his legs, his face buried against her
tummy.  He was sitting on the bed, still wearing his sweatshirt and
pants.  His hands roamed from her lower back to her rear and back
again, as he kissed her stomach through the material of her robe.

"Like to look at you.  Like to feel you like this," he mumbled into
the fabric.

"Don't you want more?" she teased.  "We've already seen each other
in the altogether last night, but you don't seem too eager to get
undressed now."

He looked up at her with adoring eyes, filled with love and lust and
a plea for understanding.  He grinned and put one hand on each of her
hips, tilting his head back slightly as he spoke, "I want to remember
all of this, Scully.  I want to have these memories to replace the
ones stolen from me."  His eyes were liquid with unshed tears and his
hands gripped tightly at her robe.

Before they'd retreated to the bedroom she'd had some idea how much
he was relishing this time alone, uninterrupted, luxurious time
alone.  She loved it too.  There were no trilling cell phones, very
little traffic noise, no sounds from apartment neighbors next door. 
Just the two of them, relaxed and happy with one another after a big
meal.

His desire to recreate past memories, to literally re-enact the
sparks which flew between them their first night of lovemaking--
touched her deeply.  She caught his face in her hands and gently
pressed her lips to his forehead.  Tears threatened her own eyes, but
she staved them off.  

She wouldn't cry on such a happy occasion.  They could make love for
the first time all over again.  She recollected the sweet and gentle
passion between them last April, and she wanted to share it with him
once more.  

She wanted to lose herself in the moment, pretend it was her first
time also.  It would be for him--not physically of course, they had
the baby to remind them of that little fact.  But he had no
recollection of how beautiful that first night had been for the two
of them.  She wanted him to regain that beauty.

She bent down to capture his lips with her own briefly, then pulled
his head back against her torso.

"They're good memories to have, Mulder.  They're the ones I clung to
all the days you were taken from me.  I don't think either of us was
quite ready for the feelings unleashed that night."

"What do you mean?" he asked, sounding worried.

"Oh, don't worry--everything was fine, Mulder.  Making love to you
for the first time was wonderful.  We fit together perfectly and I
knew we'd changed everything in just the space of an hour."

She rubbed her fingers into his shoulders in a gentle circular
motion, relaxing him against her.

"So--"  He urged her to continue, sweeping his hands across the
small of her back in movements similar to her own.

"Well... I started crying and you were so concerned, so afraid you'd
done something wrong," she told him, pulling him off her tummy so she
could look him in the eyes.

"Like hurt you?" he asked cautiously, as his gaze met hers.

"No, that wasn't it.  You knew I'd enjoyed myself as much as you
had.  You were anxious I'd changed my mind, was instantly regretting
the choice I'd made by coming to your bed that night."

His face was lost in thought for a few seconds as he considered why
she'd cried.  There could only be one other option.  He hoped there
was only one other reason she would weep openly for him.

"They were tears of joy?" he whispered, leaning his head back
slightly to catch her eyes.  His hands continued to stroke her hips
and thighs.  He couldn't stop touching her; it felt so good to do so.

"Yes, they were.  And it took me ten minutes to convince you of
that.  You started crying yourself, apologizing for letting things go
too far.  For even thinking you deserved me.  Which is ridiculous by
the way, Mulder!  You deserve to be loved and don't you forget it,"
she asserted, stroking her hands through his hair.      

He caught one of her hands with his own and pressed it to his lips. 
He kissed every one of her fingers, then entwined their fingers
together.

"I love you," he said softly.

"Oh, Mulder.  You don't have to say that."  Rosy highlights spread
across her face as she became flustered, language failing her.  "I
mean, I know you did.  And I hope you want to someday.  But it's not
necessary for you to commit yourself right now."

"Why not?" he asked.  He was perplexed by her attitude, particularly
after she'd accepted the ring so readily.  He'd considered it a
symbol, a promise they would marry.

"I don't think it's fair to demand that of you.  You are here
because of the baby we share.  If I weren't pregnant--we might not
be here, like this.  It brought us together right away.  I don't
think I would have told you everything about our relationship Monday
night.  I think I would have let you discover it in your diary and
come to me if you wanted to.  I didn't want to trap you if you
couldn't remember us--"

"Scully!  Don't even think that!  Baby or no baby, I would have
known we were supposed to be together!  You were sleeping in my bed,
for God's sake!  I think that's a real big clue right there," he
asserted.

She averted her eyes to the side, biting her bottom lip with her
teeth.  He was so sure, so tuned into the bond between them.  He'd
always been so intuitive in their work, acting on his instinctive
reactions to people, places and things.  

She was a bit embarrassed for doubting his ability to size up
things.  If she hadn't been six months with child he would still have
discerned the cohesion between them.  The joy in her eyes had been
unmistakable Monday night, mixed with fear of the unknown, but
unmistakable nonetheless.  

He was still a profiler, through and through.  He would have picked
up on any false note in her body language, her tone of voice,
immediately.  If she hadn't told him they were involved with one
another, he would have sensed the omission, followed up on it with
interrogation worthy of one of their cases.  He was relentless in
pursuit of the truth in any situation.

He pulled her face back around gently, placing his thumb and
forefinger on her chin.  "I would have known, Scully.  I would have
known and I would have been happy about it.  I'm not here, holding
you, loving you, just because you're pregnant.  Please give me more
credit than that."

She flashed him a small smile and then gazed down at her feet.  "I
do.  I know you and I know what your mind is capable of.  You're
always able to follow your first impressions, to use them somehow. 
Sorry I doubted you."  

Her voice fell off at the end, a little abashed at her lack of
confidence in his motives.  He was the most honorable man she knew. 
He would never follow through this far if he didn't intend to stay
with her, raise their child with her.  He might have been attracted
to her if she weren't having a baby with him, but he sure as hell
wouldn't be intending to make love to her tonight if he didn't
cherish her.  He simply wouldn't do such a callous thing.  He meant
it when he'd told her he loved her and she better get used to it.

He closed his eyes, mildly frustrated at the course the conversation
had taken.  He patted the bed beside himself and told her, "Sit down,
Scully.  You need to rest."

She lifted her eyes just as he was reopening his, making sure she 
was moving to his side.  She smiled, more bravely this time, then 
walked to the other side of the bed.  She easily bounded onto the 
old-fashioned frame and positioned herself in front of the pillows
spilling across the headboard.  

"That's more like it," he said, moving next to her and winding his
long arm around her shoulder.  "I want you to be comfortable."

"I am," she averred, leaning her face up toward him.

"We have all the time in the world, Scully.  It's just us here. 
Nobody keeping track of our whereabouts, trying to reach us by phone,
making us trudge out to a crime scene at two in the morning.  I know
that had to be hard on a relationship.  It was probably responsible
for keeping me single so long."  He grinned at her slyly.  "Other
than the fact I hadn't met the right woman yet."

She chuckled softly, then fluttered her lashes coyly.  "Oh, and who
is she, Agent Mulder?"

He gave her that enigmatic smile again, the one which made him look
like a cat who just ate a canary.  It was the same one she'd seen
last year, right after she'd urged him to tell her what his final
wish had been in the genie case.  He'd never told her either.  He'd 
just settled back against the couch cushions and looked at her with
that self-satisfied grin.

He leaned in close and whispered against her lips, "Wouldn't you
like to know?"

His hot breath made her tingle all over.  She wanted to make
passionate love to him, but she was enjoying these preliminaries too
much to rush him.  If he'd wanted to play strip poker and undress her
one item at a time she would have thought it a fine idea.  She hadn't
had this much fun with anyone for months.  Only he could provide this
unique brand of entertainment, seduction by intellectual tete-a-tete.
And the physical wasn't too shabby either, she mused, welcoming his
lips to her own.

They generated some heat between them, seriously raising both
Scully's internal and external temperature.  She gently separated her
lips from his, then started to struggle with her robe.

"Hey, let me help you," he insisted.  She smiled as he facilitated
the removal of the garment.  "Trying to steal my thunder, Scully?" 

"Huh?" 

"Last night was your turn to lead me astray.  My turn now," he
declared, placing a soft kiss on her cheek.

She pursed her lips, both flattered and amused by his attentions. 
This was no time for a snappy comeback.  She was genuinely touched by
his attempt to recreate their first night together.

"Shut your eyes, Scully," he crooned, nudging her back to her nest
of pillows.  

She obliged, relaxing against the velvet texture of the well-worn
linens.  The furnishings at the summer home were all vintage, but
tasteful, seventies style.  She imagined these sheets and pillowcases
were original to the home since the Mulder family only had spent a
few months a year there.

He positioned himself carefully, one knee to each side of her
thighs.  He didn't want to exert any pressure on her belly while he
massaged her temples, speaking to her softly, "That's it, just lie
back and unwind, Scully.  I don't want you to think about anything
except what you're feeling right now.  Just listen to me and keep
your eyes closed."

She sighed happily, her back muscles loosening up in this restful
pose.  His fingers soothed every inch of her face, as he whispered to
her, "You're so beautiful, Scully.  Your skin is so soft, so smooth. 
I love to touch you... I love to kiss you."

Scully blushed at the compliment.  She never saw herself the way he
was describing her.  She always saw the little imperfections, her
freckles, the mole above her lip.  

As if he knew what she was thinking, he touched the beauty mark
affectionately, then brushed his knuckles against the sensitive skin
beneath her jaw.  His hands moved to her shoulder blades, kneading
out tension she'd held for far too many months.  

He continued to speak softly, "You're so beautiful pregnant.  You're
just as beautiful as you always were.  I took a peek at my secret
photo collection, Scully.  You probably know which one I'm talking
about, since you must have rifled through my desk sometime."

She responded with a muffled little sound, expressing agreement and
resignation.  She'd hated going through all his things without his
permission, but it had to be done at the time.  She was finding it
difficult to keep her eyes closed, but didn't want to disappoint
Mulder by opening them too soon.

"Were you surprised I kept every clipping of you through the years? 
I'm glad I did, because I'm not much for taking Kodak moments, you
know that.  I don't even know how to use all the bells and whistles
on my camera.  I just know you're camera shy, right?" he asked,
not really expecting a response.

She nodded her head slowly.  He couldn't tell whether or not she was
answering his first question or his last.  It really didn't matter,
she was finally in the lax state he wanted her in before he removed
her clothes.  

Mulder wanted to know what she liked sexually, but didn't want her
to exert herself in any way, including trying to make conversation
about such things.  He had a hunch she enjoyed foreplay as much as
he did so he was going to go with his sixth sense and undress her 
very slowly.

He sat back on his heels and started to unbutton her pajamas,
stumbling over the small mother-of-pearl buttons.  Scully tensed for
half a second, then melted back against the cushions behind her.  She
voiced her acquiescence with a diminutive, delighted sigh, intended
to encourage his efforts.

"Guess these buttons are made for smaller hands," he thought out
loud, struggling with the last one triumphantly.

Scully reached out blindly and caught his hand, "Your hands are
fine, Mulder.  They're just the way I like them."

She half-opened one eye, catching the pleased expression on his face.

"No cheating, Scully.  You're peeking!" he admonished mildly.

She closed her eye and responded playfully, "Keep going, G-man. 
You're just getting to the good part."

Mulder chuckled and scooted down the bed a little, changing position
so he could do just that.  He'd been too tired last night to pay
enough attention to her breasts.  And this morning they'd been in a
hurry to get dressed and out of town.  

He liked making love in the morning, but Scully was already in the
bathroom by the time he woke up.  He wasn't sure, but he thought she
might have been avoiding his scrutiny in the harsh light of day. 
Candlelight would have seemed much more flattering to her.  They'd
bathed by it and fallen asleep by it.  He'd been willing to wait
until tonight, confident some of her natural shyness would diminish.

There were no candles in the bedroom they were in, but the dim
incandescent lighting was low and she didn't seem to care how much of
her he saw.  He glanced up at her face, checking to see whether she
still had her eyes closed.  She did, and for some reason it
emboldened him to lean down and nuzzle her top away from her breasts
with his face.

She gasped a little when his nose made contact with one nipple, then
the other.  She was so sensitive from the pregnancy, so aroused by
him near her, that the slightest touch excited her.

He kissed her tenderly between her breasts, then brushed his cheek
against her right nipple.  He rubbed the other side of his face
against her, then took her in his mouth, gently suckling on the
sensitive flesh.  She sighed pleasurably, reaching blindly for his
head so she could run her fingers through his hair.

He shifted around on his knees slightly, carefully balancing his
hands on either side of her torso.  His clothes were becoming
uncomfortable, but he wanted to minister to her left side first.  He
kissed and suckled her, eliciting the same wonderful sounds again.

He pulled away from her, already missing her hands caressing his
face and hair.  He wanted to start talking to her again.  She seemed
to like that as much as he did.

"Your breasts are so beautiful, Scully.  I've wanted to taste them
again and again since I first saw them."

While he spoke, he pulled her forward and helped her out of her top,
throwing it to one side.  She laid back down with his help and he
kissed each breast once more, giving full attention to the whole area
around each sensitive nipple.  

"I'm going to take my clothes off, Scully.  It's getting awful warm
in here," he said lightly.  He quickly divested himself of his
clothes, including his boxers.

She laughed aloud and asked, "When do I get to open my eyes?"

"Not yet.  Hold on a few.  But I'm not going to ask you to keep your
pants on," he teased, pulling at the waistband of her pajamas.  

She lifted her hips so he could strip them off easily.  The giggle
she'd been trying to suppress erupted finally, and her eyes flew open
involuntarily.

"Oh my," she said, eyeing his significant hard-on.

"Scully!  No fair peeking!"  Mulder couldn't resist laughing at the
expression on her face, falling next to her on the bed in stitches.

Scully was laughing so hard she felt like Mulder's happy little
Buddha underneath his fish tank.  She tried to contain her hysteria,
but found it difficult to do so every time she looked over at Mulder.  

Finally, they both regained control, or some semblance thereof. 
Mulder was still chuckling to himself, but he'd turned on his side
and was facing Scully, admiring her body in the low light.  She was
lying on her back among her pillows, chortling ever so often.  

"Mulder... not laughing at you.  Not really.  Oh, God, maybe I am."

"Sure sounds like it."

She lifted her head and held out her hand, beckoning him to her
side.  "Come here, you impossible man," she demanded.

He sidled over next to her, then gently helped her turn on her side
so they were face to face.  Her hands reached out for his face,
pulling him in for a long deep kiss.  He moved as close as he could
to her, reaching down between her legs and encountering wetness
there.  

He nipped and tickled her breasts, arousing her even more.  Her
hands were everywhere she could possibly reach, around his neck, his
shoulders, enmeshed in his silky hair.  She wanted him even closer
and she couldn't wait much longer.

"Mulder.  Please."

He stopped kissing her neck long enough to lock eyes with her.  "Is
this a good position, Scully?  Side by side?" he asked earnestly.

Love and desire were apparent in her eyes as she gazed back at him. 
Their height difference was so extreme.  She hadn't thought about
this ahead of time.  But there was always a better way, especially if
she wanted to see his face when he came.

"Um, lie on your back, Mulder," she instructed.

He fell onto his back and Scully took the initiative, climbing on
top of him.  She was thankful for all the exercises she'd kept doing
these past months.  She brushed her sex against him sensually, hands
supported by his chest. He held her loosely by the hips, fingers 
splayed wide, stroking her from waist to shoulders and down again 
with a tenderness she'd only known from Mulder.

She shifted slightly so he could slip inside her, pausing to take
hold of both his hands with her own.  Their fingers entwined,
gripping tightly as he filled her completely.  She was hot and wet
and she curled her legs around his hips, encouraging him to move. 

"You can't hurt the baby.  Don't worry," she said breathlessly.  

This was pure bliss for her.  She'd missed him so much, and here he
was beneath her, rocking gently to meet the rhythm of her movements. 
He was still being so careful with her, moving so cautiously inside
her.

"I know, Scully," he managed to say, his eyes gleaming with arousal.
"I'm going slow for you.  I want to see you come."  

"Oh, you will, I can guarantee that." 

Scully disentwined their hands, moving her fingers to balance
against the dark hair of his chest.  She increased the speed of her
thrusts, challenging him to meet them.  He did so, a look of
astonishment in his eyes.  

Scully had to remind herself this was essentially Mulder's first
time inside her.  He couldn't remember last year, all the times
they'd been together between April and September.  She'd all but
forgotten amnesia, spaceships and dizzy spells while they made love
to one another in this room.  She closed her eyes involuntarily,
euphoria overwhelming her, and sweeping her away as she came.  

Mulder watched in awe, and felt her inner walls clutch around him
tightly, setting off his own orgasm.  This felt like nothing he'd
ever felt before.  He'd never held so much love for one woman.  Maybe
he thought he had, but he'd been sorely mistaken.  This was his
beloved; Scully was the one he'd always needed.

Scully couldn't really collapse across his chest like she used to do
so many months ago.  So she slid off of him, and into his welcoming
arms.  He pulled her close to his side so he could lean down and kiss
her sweetly.  He hadn't said anything the last few minutes while
they'd made love, hadn't even called out her name.

He made up for it now, a stream of lovely words and gentle kisses
flowing over her.  Neither of them had ever been too vocal during
sex.  Perhaps they'd always feared someone was listening; perhaps it
was in their nature to be this reserved.  

"Dana," he whispered against her cheek.  

She was suddenly alert.  He'd been extolling the virtues of Scully
the last few minutes.  Where did this come from?

"Mulder?" she said, raising her eyes to see if mischief lay in his.

"Just seeing if you're all there," he teased.

"Of course, I am.  I'm just exhausted.  You know, Mulder, you're the
only man I've ever known in the Biblical sense who's energetic after
sex.  I would always fall asleep ten minutes after we'd made love. 
You'd always either lie awake and think, or get up and read for hours."

She looked up at him in mock disgust, a smirk on her lips.  

"That sounds like me all right.  Some things never change," he said
resignedly.

She rubbed his stomach with her hand affectionately, smiling against
his arm.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Mulder.  And I do like to be
called Dana.  It just threw me for a minute there."  

She moved her hand to his chin, directing his gaze toward her own. 
"You never have to do anything exactly the way you used to do it,
Mulder.  I don't expect that of you.  We don't have to recreate our
old relationship to the last detail.  I think that's too much to ask
of you."

"But I want to do things that please you," he protested.

"Mulder... I think you're doing plenty that pleases me."  

He laughed at the insinuation of her words, pressing his cheek to 
her palm.  She grinned back at him, enjoying their comfortable 
banter.

"Other than that kind of pleasing!  Everything you do, have done,
this week has been wonderful.  You're under tremendous stress, yet
you accepted me and the baby almost immediately.  You don't know how
much that's meant to me.  That somehow your soul remembers me,
accepts me as yours."

Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears and Mulder felt responsible
for them.  She shouldn't be crying, he thought.  Even if they were
tears of joy, he felt guilty for making her go through any of this. 
He'd have to try to make it up to her every day for the rest of their
lives.

"You are mine, Scully."  He cupped her cheek in his hand and stroked
away the few tears that she'd shed.  "And I am yours.  However I knew
on Monday night, however I know now, I'm not going to question it. 
You know I'm not a religious man.  But sometimes there are miracles
we don't need to question.  Don't you think?"

She smiled up at him and said, "I believe, Mulder.  I believe enough
for the both of us."

fin


Almost Home (13/?)
By Shoshana

February 23nd, 2001
Friday
8 a.m.
The Mulder Summer Home, Quonochontaug, Rhode Island

The aromatic smell of good coffee wafted over from the bedside
table.  Scully crinkled her nose, but didn't open her eyes.  She was
enjoying this too much.  Mulder was patiently waiting for her to
stir, seated in the upholstered chair in the corner.

She'd heard him tiptoe in thirty seconds ago, but she didn't want to
break the spell immediately.  It was so nice to have him around to
take care of her like this.  She was at the point in her pregnancy 
when she needed him most and he'd reappeared in her life.

He hadn't even complained about drinking decaffeinated coffee once,
though she suspected he was spiking it with something stronger from a
well-hidden source.  She'd finally found a better grade grind from a
Georgetown cafe; one could hardly tell the difference after awhile. 
Giving up caffeine had been one of the most difficult things she'd
had to do the last few months, but the deprivation had paled next
to the loss of Mulder.  Now that she had him back, every sip of java,
every single morsel of food tasted rich again.  

Scully decided to put him out of his misery.  She opened her eyes,
refreshed by nearly eight hours restful sleep.  Mulder had been
watching her like a hawk, finding nothing more sublime than Scully in
slumber.  

He smiled sweetly at her and chirped, "Morning, sunshine."

"Oh, Mulder.  You used to tease with that greeting all the time."

He got up out of the chair and sat close to her on the bed, taking
one of her hands in his own.  "Cruel, cruel man," he joked, bending
over slightly to kiss her fingers one by one.

"Positively heartless," she replied.  

She tugged at him until he fell off balance and into her arms.  They
shared a long kiss before she released him.  Mulder played with her
mussed up hair, coiling her recalcitrant curls around his slim
forefinger.  

He hadn't gained much weight back this week.  He seemed to burn more
calories than he took in and Scully was still worried about his
overall health.  She hoped he was going to eat breakfast too, if 
only to excuse her ever-increasing appetite for anything and 
everything on the menu.

She smiled up at him and asked, "Is that my breakfast?"

The ordinary dinner plate was covered with a pot lid.  It smelled
like eggs and toast as she gradually separated out all the delicious
odors beside her.

"Yes.  And I've already had mine, so I suggest you dig in.  We have
a busy schedule today," he told her, a hint of mystery in his voice.

"Oh, yeah?  I thought we were going to take it easy this weekend,
get some rest.  Why the change in plans?" 

"Well... it's really not an arduous schedule, Scully.  Just a busy
one."  He smiled at her, delighting in her confusion.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to decipher his doublespeak.  "I'm
feeling a little thick-headed this early in the morning, Mulder. 
What the hell do you mean?"  Her lips pursed together impatiently,
awaiting an explanation.

Mulder grinned, then got up from the bed and left the bedroom before
she could utter another word.  He returned ten seconds later, hands 
hidden behind his back.  With a flourish, he presented Scully with a
dozen perfect red roses.

"Happy birthday, Scully," he said, almost demurely. 

She put her hand over her mouth, astonished he'd remembered her
birthday.  He *never* did, so much so she'd teased him about it every
year.  Last year had been the only time she hadn't given him grief
about it.  His mother had just died and he'd found out the truth
about Samantha shortly thereafter.  Her birthday had passed
unremarkably for a good reason.  

"How did you know what day?" she asked.

Mulder laid the flowers next to her on the bed, then helped her sit
up straight against the headboard.  He presented the flowers to her
with endearing formality, like it meant the world to him.  She pulled
at his forearm until he leaned over and gave her another lasting 
kiss.

"I thought you read my diary, Scully.  Don't you remember our
baseball lesson?"

She looked at him, befuddled by his remark.  How could he find out
when her birthday was from that?  He'd taken her out to the ballpark
in April.

"You--that wasn't the right day.  It was a very early or very late
birthday present," she asserted.

"Yeah, but I was determined to find out when it was after reading 
about that.  I didn't want to go through your things and I really 
didn't think about it until we went to the grocery store yesterday.  
You wrote a check and I realized today was the day.  You don't know 
how difficult it is to conceal even one measly phone call from you,
Scully."

She reached out and touched his cheek with her fingers, stroking his
rough morning stubble.  She was genuinely affected by his unassuming 
manner.  It seemed like she had the best of both Mulders all the 
time now:  the indefatigable, idealistic man she'd met in 1993, and
the loving, physically demonstrative man she'd lost five months ago.

Not that he'd never touched her all those early years they were
together.  He'd always invaded her space, brushed up against her with
an audacity she'd accepted from the very beginning.  The deeper
meaning, the love, associated with those not so subtle territorial
invasions grew exponentially every year they spent together.  

In less than a week, she and Mulder had rekindled their passion for
one another.  Naturally, it had required little effort on her part. 
She remembered every day she'd spent with him, every kind and
generous act she'd seen him do onto others as well as herself.  

She recalled in vivid detail how flirtatious they'd become after the
spring of 1999.  Even though they'd waited a whole year to come
together physically, she'd known what his intentions were.  He was
prepared to wait her out, until she decided to advance the
relationship further.

Thank God I finally came to my senses, she thought.  You never know
what will happen.  Thank God he's finally back with me.

"Scully?  Don't cry, please--" 

He brought his hands to her face and gathered her tears, gently
wiping them away.

She sniffled and protested, "Not crying," even though she clearly
was.  All that cursed self-examination, she mused to herself.  "The
roses are beautiful, Mulder.  They're perfect.  You have so much on
your mind.  To go out of your way for me..."

"Of course I'd go out of the way for you."  He placed his hands on
either side of her tear-streaked face, stroking his thumbs over her
flushed cheeks.  "I love you."

She closed her eyes, embarrassed by her loss of control.  She knew
he loved her in a certain way now, but she still held some
apprehension about the future.  She wanted to be confident, wanted to
believe things would never change.  

Mulder's mental health had not always been stellar.  She didn't
want to discuss this with him yet, but she felt he should start
seeing a therapist right away.  Losing all those years of memories,
becoming a father so abruptly, plus all the stress and strain of
dealing with threats against his family--it could unhinge the best of
us.

Mulder was the best and the brightest of all the people she'd
ever known.  Their reunion had been going so well, in spite of his
amnesia, in spite of his instant fatherhood.  She was waiting for the
other shoe to drop.

"I'm worried about you," she blurted out.

"What?  How so?" he asked, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Oh, Mulder.  I don't know.  This is all so much.  For you, for me. 
I'm happy, so happy.  But I'm just waiting for the inevitable, for
whatever price I have to pay for this happiness."

He dropped his hands from her shoulders and sat quietly for a
minute, thinking over what she'd just said.  Running his hand through
his hair thoughtfully, he responded, "I know what you're getting at. 
I have doubts, too--but everything's been going so well the last couple
days.  Well, everything except for Krycek.  I don't know what to say.
We just have to stick it out together, Scully.  All of us," he said,
stroking the curve of her belly affectionately.

She covered his hand and stilled it, looking up at him earnestly,
"Promise me you'll tell me if you have any more vertigo.  Promise me
you'll tell me if you feel uneasy about anything, anything at all.  I
can't imagine what you're going through."

He leaned down and kissed her hand, resting his chin lightly on her
stomach.  "It's all easier with you around, Scully," he said softly,
looking up at her.  "I've never had anyone like you.  Someone I could
rely on completely...  Knowing you need me just as much, especially
now... it makes me happy.  Don't you know that?"

He sat up, then moved next to her on the bed so he could pillow her
head on his chest.  She nestled into him, her shorter arms wrapping
around his waist.

"Anything you think I should do, Scully, just tell me about it.  I
know you're holding back, not wanting to criticize every move I make.
If there's something on your mind, and I *know* there is, I want to
know about it," he whispered softly.

She snuffled a little, clearing away the effects of her brief crying
jag.  One hand made tiny circles in the fabric of his henley shirt as
she spoke, "Well, uh.  Mulder."

"Yes," he replied gently, one hand smoothing her hair behind her ear.

"Maybe you should see someone.  To deal with the consequences of the
amnesia," she said, cringing as she did so.

He pulled back a little so he could meet her eyes.  "Is that what
you're worried about?  You thought I wouldn't go see a counselor?
Don't worry, Scully."  He leaned down to kiss her cheek tenderly.  
"I'd already planned to.  I might not want to go for more hypnosis 
if it's going to bring on severe headaches or vertigo, but I can see 
the value in talking to someone."

She blinked her eyes several times, as if clearing her vision would
similarly clear her mind.  "I'll come along if you want me to," she 
offered.

He stroked her hand gently with his thumb.  "I'd like that. 
Eventually.  I think I need to go by myself the first few times. 
It's not like marriage counseling, you know," he said, smiling.

She smiled back and said, "I know.  Speaking of marriage..." 
Mulder's eyebrows shot up in response and she laughed.  "No not yet,
Mulder.  I still think we ought to wait a little while.  What I was
going to say... are you sure you'll be all right at my Mom's on
Sunday?  She'll bring it up.  And Bill won't be silent either."

"I don't see any problem.  I just have to keep in mind they don't
know what's wrong with me.  I'll leave the explanations to you.  Hey,
Scully!" he said, pointing to the bedside table.  "You have to eat 
breakfast!  It'll only stay warm so long under that lid!"

"Okay, okay.  Let me run to the john and I'll come right back," she
said, accepting his assistance as she struggled to stand.  She kissed
him once on the forehead and promised in a low voice, "I have a good
appetite."

"Oh, I know you do, Scully.  I found that out last night," he said,
ducking down as she playfully punched at his arm.

"*Just* last night?" she queried, one eyebrow ascending toward her
hairline.

"Okay, I guess that would be *Wednesday* night too, if you'd like to 
be technical about it," he offered.

Scully smiled over her shoulder, then slipped into the bathroom.  It
was going to be a fine thirty-seventh birthday; Mulder was home to
share it with her.

*******
11:00 a.m.
Quonochontaug, Rhode Island

"Are you sure this is what you want to do all day?" Mulder asked
over the sound of the roiling surf.

"Sure.  This is what we came here for, isn't it?  The smell of salt
in the air, the view from this precipice--this is exactly what I want
to do today.  It's not even cold today."

"Oh, no.  Forty degrees fahrenheit.  Not cold at all.  I should have
my head examined for letting you sit out here for even an hour," he
replied.  

He hugged her tightly within the circle of his arms, anxiously
transferring all the body heat he could spare.  

"I'm not cold," she stated, belying her words by snuggling closer to
his large, warm chest.

"I appreciate your honesty, Scully," he answered with sarcasm.

"All right, we'll leave soon.  Just a few minutes more."  She turned
her face toward his, eyes pleading her case.

"Okay, fair enough," he said, kissing her cheek lightly.  "Scully,
do you want to keep the summer home?"

"Well, whatever you want to do with it is fine with me.  You
have lots of memories there, don't you?" 

"Some good ones.  Some very bad ones, too.  At least that's what I
gathered when I read journal entries from April '97."

"I don't want you to dwell on that incident, Mulder," she said,
turning in his arms so she could look him in the eye.  "You weren't
yourself.  You were drugged--" she sputtered out.

"Scully, I allowed some quack to drill a hole in my head and
administer a strong hallucinogen.  Yeah, really hard to believe I'd
do something like that," he replied dryly.

"You just wanted to find out about Samantha!  Yes it was stupid,
very stupid.  But it doesn't have to influence your opinion on the
summer house," she argued.

"I thought it might influence yours," he said quietly.

"No, Mulder.  It's your decision.  It doesn't bother me either way. 
These things happened a long time ago, long enough to be forgotten--
by both of us!  I wasn't planning on bringing it up this weekend and
I thought we were going to avoid a conversation about this.  But 
since you brought--"

"Scully, you don't understand... it's your decision, too. 
Everything I have is yours--your vote counts.  I didn't start
thinking about those journal entries concerning Providence,
concerning the summer house, until this morning.  I managed to block
them out completely when we arrived yesterday.  I seem to have a
selective memory when it serves my purpose--especially when it's
about incidents I've only read about."  His eyes veered downward,
studying the ground with interest.  "I'm not proud of what happened
here." 

"Oh, Mulder!  That was four years ago.  You've done enough penance
for what happened here.  The end result is all that matters, Mulder. 
You trusted me, you didn't harm me." 

"It could have ended differently," he posited.

"Yes, but it didn't!"  She caught his face between her hands and
forced him to observe her.  "You fought the drugs, you came to your
senses... before you could do harm to anyone.  You've every reason to
question memories you had during those days--of your family, of what
happened to those MUFON members.  You'd been injected with
psychoactive drugs, Mulder--"

He drew her hands down from his cheeks and grasped them tightly. 
"Exactly.  I *let* myself be injected.  I still bear responsibility
for my actions, even though it's been four years since everything 
went down.  I started thinking about it this morning... I should 
have asked you how you felt before we came here.  When I suggested
we come here, my mind wasn't on what was nearly a tragedy... it was 
occupied with memories--vivid, childhood memories, not ones 
transcribed in a journal.  Apparently, reading about coming 
perilously close to shooting my partner wasn't enough to dissuade
me from vacationing here," he explained, visibly downcast.

"It doesn't matter now, Mulder.  It just doesn't matter anymore. 
You're reading your journal for enlightenment, not self-reproach.  It's
hard to deal with all this; I'm amazed you've absorbed as much as
you have.  You've always been a speed reader," she teased,
caressing his cheek with her hand.

"Here's the thing, Scully.  The flashbacks I had of my family, here,
at the summer house... the ones in which my parents had a loud
argument with the Smoking Man about Samantha... those are false
memories, right?" he questioned, tilting his head to one side.

"I don't know, Mulder.  We know what happened to Samantha now, so
there's no reason to dredge up these things."

"I'm not bringing them up to torture you, or myself, Scully.  I'm 
relating their unreliability to the ones I had during my hypnotic 
regression on Wednesday."

Scully looked confused.  She'd thought his recollections during the
session with Dr. Werber were authentic.  "You don't think they're
reliable memories?"

"No.  Not at all.  How could I remember *anything* that's happened to
me in the last five months?  It's inconceivable.  If I truly have
amnesia... then I should remember zero, zilch, nada from the last 
eight years.  Why would I remember just one five minute period out 
of all that time?" 

"Oh, God...  Oh, no, Mulder...  That's why there weren't any signs of
weightlessness... you were never on an alien ship.  You were 
incarcerated somewhere on good old earth... they drugged you and
brainwashed you.  Human beings are responsible for this," she 
concluded bitterly.

He bit at his bottom lip thoughtfully, then replied, "Maybe.  Maybe
not.  I could have been abducted by aliens--no really, listen to me,
Scully."  He held his hand up, pleading with her to let him finish.  

"There's no reason the aliens kept me all five months.  They might
have required me for a few months, then handed me over to their human
contacts here.  Who knows where I was all that time?"

"But it doesn't explain your lack of injuries, Mulder.  Abductees
usually come back with marks or scars when testing has been done,"
she argued.

"I don't think they were interested in anything but my mind, Scully.
They're only interested in one thing now, studying anomalous brain
wave activity.  If they can control our minds... they can conquer the
planet without destroying humans or any other species."

"You think you're a living testament to mind control?  Just because
they took your memories?" she asked incredulously. 

"Why not?  They've tried to develop a way to enslave us with 
disease.  Why not delve into our psyches and discover all the right 
buttons to push?"

"But why you?  Are you a warning to us?  That they can do anything
they please to the human mind?  Or are they trying to destroy your
ability to launch a defense against such a plan?"

"I don't know, Scully.  But I think Krycek is half-right.  The
baby's in danger because of its special qualities, but not
necessarily the ones that immediately come to mind, such as immunity
to the alien virus.  If the colonizers intend to control human beings
via their brain waves, then they'd be very interested in our child.  
It's possible he'll inherit the telepathic abilities I had before my 
brain surgery."

"But why return you, Mulder?  Why let you come back to me?  I just 
don't get it."   

Scully's brow furrowed in thought, weighing all the possibilities in 
her mind.  Her pensive mood was soon interrupted by tremors 
throughout her body, brought on by the chill wind off the sea.  The
previously moderate breeze was harsher now; it had been picking up
speed gradually.  Mulder drew her closer, rubbing his hands up and 
down her back to promote warmth.

"I don't get it either, and I'm not sure if we'll ever know," he 
pondered.

He pulled away from her slightly, his thumbs warming her ice-cold
cheeks.  "What I do know... is we ought to get back to the car and
drive back to town.  There's a hot cocoa with your name on it at the
corner drugstore I used to go to as a kid.  This time I'm sure it's 
still around.  I called this morning and asked them if they kept 
their soda fountain."

"Did they?" she asked, smiling at the thought of going to an old-
fashioned watering place.

"Yeah.  They call it a cafe now, but I'm sure it's about the same. 
I talked to the owner's daughter for a few minutes.  We knew each
other before Samantha--"  

He cast his eyes downward, studying their tightly joined hands.  It
was still difficult to discuss Samantha, even though he knew the
truth about her death.  He wasn't enjoying this moment of weakness;
sometimes things hit him like a ton of bricks.

"You don't have to explain, Mulder," Scully soothed, squeezing his
hand.  "It's never going to be easy to talk about.  It shouldn't be. 
It's what keeps us from giving up when everything seems so 
hopeless."  

She stroked his chin with her fingers, raising his gaze to her own. 
"We have to keep fighting the Project, no matter what form it
takes today.  Not just for revenge--but for all the lives we can save
in the future, including our own.  Including the life of our growing
child.  We're going to get to the bottom of this.  You know that,
don't you?" she asked, peering deep into his clear hazel eyes.

He leaned forward and kissed her blush-colored lips, then whispered
against them, "With you, everything is possible, Scully.  With you, I
can do it all."

fin


Almost Home (14/?)
By Shoshana

February 23nd, 2001
Friday
12:30 p.m.
Margie's Pharmacy and Cafe
Quonochontaug, Rhode Island

Scully had no difficulty spotting Mulder's childhood friend at the
claustrophic, yet pleasant, drug store.  She was the only woman who
raced over to the tall agent, trapping him in an affectionate bear
hug.  

Attired in pharmaceutical white, and bearing a huge smile on her
face, she said cheerily, "Oh, Fox.  It's so good to see you.  You're
looking great!"

Mulder was a little taken aback.  The last time he'd seen Margie was
in high school, when he'd come to the summer home with his mom for
several months.  He knew she'd wanted to follow in her father's
footsteps and was pleased the store now bore her name.

Margie Townsend had been just one of a crowd of teenagers who'd hung
out at the beach, a mixed group of townies and seasonal residents. 
Samantha and Margie had been close friends before his sister's
disappearance.  She'd always seen Mulder as a big brother type, a
relationship sustained throughout their adolescent years.

The incident at the summer home in 1997 had caused her family
nothing but worry for her old friend.  Everyone had seen Mrs. Mulder
occasionally after her son had graduated high school, staying at the
summer home for a few weeks every year.  They all knew about Fox's
illustrious career at Oxford and his subsequent job with the FBI, but
Margie never dreamed there would be a hostage situation involving her
friend.

Local cops had filled her in on the details not printed in the
newspaper.  The FBI had tried to suppress as much information as
possible, but it was truly difficult to quash small town rumors. 
Margie had been content with the knowledge Fox Mulder hadn't harmed
himself or anyone else around him.  

She'd shelved the whole thing in her mind, attributing it to
excessive job stress.  There were times she wanted to scream at
little old ladies in her establishment who wouldn't obey her warnings
about mixing medications.  That was as stressful as her job got.  She
could only imagine what law enforcement was like and what pressures
led to his apparent breakdown.

Margie had been sad to hear of his mother's suicide.  Convinced
she'd never she him again, his phone call that morning had been most
welcome.  She unhooked her long arms from around his all too skinny
frame, and smiled at his shocked, but pleased expression. 

"So, who's your friend?" she asked, not bothering to give Fox Mulder
a chance to respond to her initial greeting.  He was still gaping at
her like a fish, so she decided to expedite all necessary
introductions.

Mulder grinned at her demand, then bobbed his head shyly in Scully's
direction, "Um, uh, Scully.  This is Margie Townsend, a good friend
from high school.  Margie, this is Dana Scully, my, um, uh, partner
and uh--"

"Fiancee," supplied Scully, rescuing her flailing companion.

Mulder's eyebrows soared skyward, amusement crossing his stunned,
but joyful face.  He hadn't expected any acknowledgement of this kind
from Scully, not even when they went to her mother's house on Sunday.
He'd given her his grandmother's ring the other day as a promise--
with no timetable, no set expectations.  Her public candor pleased
and delighted him to no end.  

"Well, for goodness sakes, I hope so!" quipped Margie, gesturing
toward Scully's midsection.  "It's about time, too, Fox!  I've
already got three of my own!"

Scully blushed involuntarily, uncomfortable in the spotlight. 
Margie saved her quickly by adding, "Come on, Dana.  There's a table
with your name on it right over here."

She offered Scully her hand, then gently guided her to a seat at one
of the six tables near the coffee bar.  The old soda fountain had
been renovated, reduced in size and outfitted with the latest
coffeehouse paraphernalia.  Margie had wanted to maintain some of the
atmosphere of her Dad's store, which was a hangout for local
residents all year round.

Mulder shook his head in astonishment.  Margie had always been
feisty and outgoing.  She'd looked after him like a mother hen after
Samantha disappeared, despite being years younger.  He'd always
looked forward to summer in Quonochontaug, confident he had one
friend in the small tourist town.

At thirty-seven she still looked great, blonde and lanky as he
remembered her.  Mulder was exceedingly grateful there'd never been
anything other than friendship between them.  He wasn't prepared to
face the wrath of Scully if she suspected anything otherwise.

Margie spoke first again, her curiosity a great motivating factor,
"What the heck are you doing here in February?  I thought you Mulders
never show up in the winter months?"  

"We're taking a break, Margie.  I was, uh, on special assignment for
a few months.  Scully was at work until this past week when I
returned from out-of-state."

He thought fast, improvising a plausible scenario in his mind in
case Margie's audacity compelled her to pursue this topic any
further.  She didn't, sensing Dana Scully's discomfort as her
'fiance' spoke.  Instead, she beckoned her young counterperson over
to the table and plopped menus in front of both her guests.

"Well, I hope you'll at least have a couple of warm drinks today.  I
might have to take off and fill some prescriptions for a few minutes,
but in the meantime I want you two to enjoy yourself."

"Thanks, Margie.  You don't know how much it means to me to see a
familar face," Mulder said earnestly.

Scully smiled at him from across the table, the poignancy of his
words evident to them alone.  She'd made the right decision not
mentioning his breakdown before they arrived in Quonochontaug.  He'd
digested all the details in his journal and it still hadn't prevented
him from driving up here for the weekend.  

She surmised their conversation this afternoon had occurred after
some soul searching on Mulder's part.  He couldn't remember every
second of their confrontation in the summer house as she did. 
Secondhand knowledge of that incident was working in his favor this
time.  He didn't need to recall pointing a gun at her in a
hallucinogenic haze.  There were some memories best left forgotten.

Margie turned her attention to Scully after they'd ordered their
drinks.  "When are you due, Dana?" she asked, her tone more
sisterlike than maternal.

Scully smiled, first at Margie, then across the table at Mulder.  He
was rapidly recovering from Margie's warm welcome, totally relaxed in
the small town setting around him.  He loved DC, but he also loved
every little roadside eatery he'd visited as an FBI agent.  

This one was even more special to him; it had been a haven for him
as a child, with his friend Margie and her family constantly 
around.  Now, as an adult, he savored his reacquaintance with 
his old friend, elated to share the good fortune of Scully's 
pregnancy with her.      

"May, I hope," Scully responded, enjoying Margie's candidness.

"Well, all my kids were a little early.  All healthy, too.  I
suppose he's been coddling you," she teased.

"A lot more lately," she responded, glancing at Mulder knowingly. 
He winced, a flash of regret temporarily on his face.  Margie missed
it; her eyes were totally focussed on Scully's blue ones.

"She's very independent," Mulder said, trying to lighten the mood. 
He wouldn't dwell on his forced separation from Scully, and he didn't
want her to either.  

"She'd have to be, to put up with you, Fox," Margie replied, her
eyes brightening.

"Ah, I wasn't so bad!  Samantha just made it sound that way!" he
asserted.

Margie's face darkened suddenly, her tone becoming deadly serious,
"Fox?  Did you ever?"  She reached beside her and placed her hand
over Mulder's.  "I don't mean to pry... you know how much it would
mean for me to know."

Mulder squeezed Margie's hand once, then glanced at Scully before he
spoke, "She's gone, Margie.  She died when she was fourteen."  

Margie gasped, placing her hand over her mouth in disbelief.  

"We found out last year, around the time my mom passed away.  It's a
long story, too long to recount here."  He paused to place his hand
on his friend's shoulder.  "I'm sure she's at peace now.  That's the
most important thing for me to know.  I hope it will help you, too."

"Oh, Fox.  She was a beautiful friend to me.  I've always wondered--"

"She's in a safe place now.  You don't have to wonder anymore," he
assured her.

Marge put her hand over his while it still rested on her shoulder,
patting it softly.  "You always said you might find her if you looked
hard enough.  Don't you remember telling me that?"

"Yeah.  Yeah, I do.  And I did find her.  But the path I took to
find her led me to Scully, too.  We never would have met, would never
been partnered at the Bureau."

Mulder stopped talking and looked over at Scully, who was pursing
her lips and gazing downward.  He didn't want to embarrass her
publicly, but she'd come to mean everything to him in less than a
week.  Granted, he knew their history together, knew they'd had a
strong commitment to one another long before his abduction and
subsequent memory loss.  

His sixth sense kicked in whenever he was near her--and he was never
far from her distinctive scent,  her mellifluous voice, the soft
touch of her cream-colored skin.  They were all so familiar, so
soothing to him.  He knew he'd be lost without her; he didn't care to
analyze the situation any further than that.  There was no logical
reason for him to be so in love with Scully after less than a week--
but his life, his work at the FBI, had seldom been altogether 
logical.

"I'm glad something good came out of your long search, Fox.  And
now... what are you going to name the baby?" Margie chirped.

Mulder and Scully laughed in unison.  With all the other things on
their mind, they hadn't even discussed baby names.  Mulder grinned 
at Margie, then at Scully and said, "Just so it's not Fox, right 
Margie?"

"What?  Doesn't Dana call you Fox?" she queried, amused by his
longstanding aversion to his given name.

"He won't let me.  Never has," interjected Scully dryly.

Margie smiled broadly and replied, "So that's why he calls you
Scully!  I was wondering what was up.  How long have you known each
other?"

Both agents opened their mouths to answer the question, then paused
to look at one another.  Scully smiled sweetly, tilting her head to
one side, waiting for his cue.

"Eight years, Margie.  We've known each other eight years," Mulder
replied wistfully.  

"Margie!!!" a voice from the other side of store screamed out.

"Oh, gosh.  Sorry to spoil the party!  I have to go back to work. 
Damn!  Fox, I'm so glad you stopped by.  Dana, I know you have your
work cut out for you with our friend here," she said, giving Scully a
conspiratorial look.  

"Margie, if she doesn't know by now--" Mulder wisecracked.

"Exactly.  He's a handful, as his mom used to say.  But he's never
looked happier since he teamed up with you!  I wish you both the
best.  Now... eat lots of doughnuts.  Especially you, Fox," she said,
winking at Mulder.

Margie embraced them both before leaving to take care of business at
the other side of the store.  They both watched her stride off, her
licorice-colored turtleneck and gabardine slacks a striking contrast
to her white pharmacist's jacket.

Mulder swiveled his head back around, suddenly self-conscious he'd
been staring a little too long at Margie's receding backside.  Scully
had her lips wrapped round the rim of her coffee cup, a barely
concealed, but wry smile meeting his guilty eyes.

"Scully!  There was never anything--" he sputtered.

Scully giggled into her beverage, using her considerable manual
dexterity to lower the mug to the table without spilling its 
contents.

"I know, Mulder!  It's not a sin to admire her.  She's a very pretty
woman.  A lot more outspoken than I'd expect in this conservative
little town.  It's no wonder you two were friends; you both defy the
status quo in your own idiosyncratic way," she observed.

"She's done well for herself.  I always knew she would," he mused.

The lunchtime crowd had fled the little cafe area, returning to
their jobs or other wintertime errands.  A local newspaper was
nonchalantly spread across the top of the wooden countertop, so the
barperson could simultaneously read and keep an eye out for new
customers.

Mulder moved from his chair across from Scully to the one on her
left.  He slid the wicker chair close to her side, then did a
boardinghouse reach to retrieve his coffee from the other side of the
table.

"Comfy?" Scully asked dryly.

"Very," he responded, grabbing a sip of his unadulterated black
coffee.  He savored the rich taste; Scully's pots of decaffeinated
had not been cutting it lately, even when he spiked them with
Taster's Choice.

"I think we need a second coffee maker," she said, reading his
thoughts.

"Maybe we'll get one as a wedding gift, fiancee," he teased.

Scully almost lost control of her coffee cup a second time, laughing
at the term thrown back at her.

"I saved your butt, Mulder.  What would your old school chums say?"

"I doubt they even know I'm alive, Scully.  Margie's the only person
who'd remember me.  The older residents knew my mom, probably still
did--until last year."  He paused for a minute, choosing his words
carefully.  "After my mom died, Scully, there were a lot of changes
made."

Scully looked at him blankly, unable to guess where he was going
with this.

"Yeah?"  The one word sounded more like a statement than a question,
uttered simply to encourage his narrative.

"You know, I asked you if you wanted to keep the summer home with
good reason, Scully--I spoke to my lawyer this morning while you were
taking that long delicious shower of yours."

"The one you ordered me to take?" she reminded him.

"Yeah, so I had an ulterior motive; I had to call Henry.  I was
curious about some things only he would know," he replied
enigmatically.

"I've spoken to Henry, Mulder.  Two weeks ago I was investigating
how to handle your bills when they stopped your paychecks in March. 
Skinner had bought me six months time and it was getting close to the
wire."

"I know.  He told me he talked with you.  He obeyed my instructions
to the letter--or at least the ones I'd left with him last March," he
explained.

She pursed her lips, impatient with this slow unveiling of what she
could only guess was some Mulder family secret.

"Well?" she said, pressing for details.

"Apparently, my mom had everything planned out before her death," he
stated unemotionally.  "She left everything to me naturally.  All the
other properties were sold off, including my dad's house.  The only
remaining property is the summer house, which someone has offered to
buy."

"So sell it if you want to, Mulder.  Don't let my opinion stand in
your way."

Even if they were unofficially 'engaged,' Scully felt no need to
interfere with his decision.  If for some reason they never married,
she'd have a clear conscience about her actions now.  She didn't want
to unduly influence what should be his decision alone.

"Scully," he said quietly.  He leaned closer, placing one hand on
her shoulder.  "The summer house is half yours.  I wasn't kidding
when I told you everything I have is yours.  It is.  Legally you have
the right to veto the sale."

Scully stared at him in astonishment.  She didn't want to believe
what he seemed to be saying; he'd willed her his estate last March? 
Immediately after his mom's death?

Mulder kneaded her shoulder gently and continued, "Henry's been my
lawyer for twenty years.  He's been warned never to believe any tale
of my untimely demise without a body and complete dental records.  He
knows how dangerous our jobs are and he also knows a little bit about
the specific problems the X-Files have had.  He would never have
revealed this arrangement to you--"

"Arrangement?" she parroted back, still incredulous.

"Is it so hard to believe I'd try to take care of you, Scully? 
Granted, I needed to know more of the details from Henry--but it was
no shock you were my beneficiary," he responded sincerely.

She blinked hers eyes in disbelief.  In all the months preceding his
abduction they'd never spoken of marriage, or even moving in with one
another.  They'd maintained separate apartments by unspoken
agreement, guarding their independence by simply refusing to confront
one another about other living arrangements.  This was far beyond
what she'd expected of him.

"I never thought--I didn't know, Mulder," she stammered.  "I should
have known... I guess.  We had such an equal partnership... you know?
But I have nothing to offer you in return, Mulder.  A 401k plan,
maybe," she quipped.

He shook his head slowly, then slipped his hand in hers, clutching
it tightly, "You don't have to give me anything, Scully.  You
wouldn't have known about this unless I was declared legally dead.  I
never wanted to pressure you into marriage--or at least that's the
impression I get from Henry.  We were happy, weren't we?  The way
things were last year?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes!  Oh, Mulder... we were very happy!  I've never seen you so
relaxed.  Our difficulties didn't start until the audit of the X-
Files in September and Bellefleur.  We were finally enjoying
ourselves a little.  I haven't even begun to tell you half of it--"

"And you will." he interjected.  "We have plenty of time now...  I
think it's ironic--I can't remember making these provisions for you,
but I'm really glad I did.  If I hadn't--and I hadn't come back to
you--"

"Don't say that, Mulder," she replied firmly.  "You always come back
to me.  I don't want to think of the alternative."  She squeezed his
hand, then continued, "I'm glad Henry obeyed you.  I don't think I
could have handled this knowledge if you were still missing."

"So you're not mad?"  He breathed a little easier, the lump in his
throat rapidly disappearing.

"You think I'm mad?" she questioned.

"You didn't seem really pleased," he moped.

"I'm not displeased, Mulder.  I'm just... I'm just stunned.  We
weren't even involved when you made these provisions."

Mulder chuckled, then pulled her hand to his mouth for a soft kiss. 
"Scully, I *read* my diary--we've been involved for a long, long
time.  You can't tell me having a sexual relationship had anything to
do with my feelings for you.  I was in love with you for years before
I could tell you how I really felt."

Scully scowled in spite of his protestations.  She knew he'd loved
her--but that was before his amnesia.  She wanted to leave things
indefinite for now.  There was always the chance, always the
possibility they'd be incompatible as husband and wife.  She didn't
want him to feel obligated toward her or the baby.

"You *were* in love with me for years, Mulder," she said, lowering
her voice.  "But you're not the same now.  You may never recapture
the last eight years, and I don't want you to feel you have to marry
me... or even love me.  You're the same man I met in 1993, but you
deserve your freedom if you so desire it," she said firmly.

Mulder let go of her hand and slumped down in his chair, amazed at
her resistance.  He thought they'd resolved the question of marriage.
Why would she present herself as his fiancee to Margie?  She was
playing it safe, giving him a way out.  Maybe she had the right to be
cautious--he didn't think of himself as that great a catch.

"Don't sulk, Mulder.  It's unbecoming," she teased, trying to cheer
him. 

She loved him dearly, but there'd been a few moments in the last
week that had taxed her hormonally-charged nerves.  He hadn't been a
child when she'd met him, but his childish behavior could still be an
issue.  As things stood, they didn't have the benefit of years and
years of life experiences together.

Scully was in a better position to interpret his moodiness, his
unarticulated thoughts and desires.  He'd have to work twice as hard
to figure her out, since she wasn't planning on a personality
transplant.  Anything could happen to their relationship in the
coming months.  They might decide to live separately for all she
knew.  She still didn't want to get married right away, baby or no
baby.

"You don't want to get married," he frowned, arms drooping on either
side of his chair.

"I've never said that."  

She chewed at her bottom lip, frustrated with his lack of empathy
for her situation.  She pulled his lax hand into her own, entwining
their fingers with some difficulty, since his fingers refused to
cooperate at first.  

Mulder came around eventually, his grasp tightening as he spoke,
"Okay.  We'll wait.  As long as you want, Scully.  I'm prepared to
tell your mom whatever you want me to on Sunday, but she might not be
very understanding.  As both your mom and a Catholic," he reminded 
her.

"You let me handle Mom," she smiled.  "I've had more practice."

Mulder snickered at her comment, then said, "Let's not forget Bill,
Scully.  I've read the choice comments from him from when you were
ill.  I don't think he'll be as forgiving as your mom."

Scully's shoulders fell, exhausted at his endless energy.  He
constantly anticipated every bump in the road.  

"Mulder, you have to relax.  My relatives aren't going to surprise
us with a shotgun wedding.  Not if I have anything to say about it."

"How about a nice, easy Rhode Island wedding instead?" he offered.

Scully smiled at his persistence.  "You won't stop, will you?" 

"Never," he vowed, grinning at her affectionately.

"I'll consider it," she grinned back, hoping for conciliation. 

Mulder's eyes brightened, and he moved closer to her again, close
enough to whisper in her ear, "I'll hold you to that, Dana."

A tiny shiver travelled down her spine when he used her given name. 
She had little opportunity to return the 'favor' by calling him
Fox... his generous lips were swifter than her vocal cords,
effectively squelching any impulse to do so.  By the time their kiss
had ended, she would have gladly driven to the county seat.

Almost Home (15/?)
By Shoshana

February 23nd, 2001
Friday
10:00 p.m.
The Mulder Summer Home, Quonochontaug, Rhode Island

"You're sure we've never done this before?" Mulder asked, surrounded
by Scully's precious family photo albums.  "I feel like I've seen
most of these people before," he added.

"Yes, I'm positive, Mulder.  You've asked me about individual
photographs on my bookcase shelf, but I've never subjected you to all
this before."

They were sitting on the couch at the summer house, drinking tea and
enjoying the warmth of a crackling fire.  They'd spent the rest of
the afternoon sightseeing, returning just in time to watch the sunset
from the cliffs nearby.  

She glanced up from the volume in her lap and grinned.  "You have
seen quite a few of these people before," she agreed.  "I hate to
read more into that than there is... but I think your reaction to
sensual memories is a good sign."

He matched her grin, leaning over to kiss her cheek.  "I'm very
pleased to have vivid sensual memories of you, Scully."  He drew back
so he could stroke her softly with his forefinger.  Her face had
reddened slightly with his words.  

"You didn't recognize me when you came charging into your apartment
Monday night," she remarked doubtfully.

"Not at first.  I think I was too hyped up on adrenaline to give
your features proper attention.  Once I sat next to you on the bed
and relaxed for a few minutes--your voice, your touch seemed so
familiar to me.  It's only intensified with every passing day, 
Scully."

Scully pursed her lips in thought for a minute, then said, "I'd like
to believe you retained those memories, Mulder.  I really would.  But
my skeptic heart knows we've been together almost twenty-four hours a
day since Monday."    

"No, no, Scully.  You can't analyze this from a logical perspective.
I *know* these aren't things I hadn't just discovered about you.  I
can't imagine trusting you, spending Monday night in the same bed
with you, if I hadn't remembered you on some subconscious level. 
It's a positive sign.  Moreover, if the only memories I ever retrieve
from the past eight years are limited to the sight and smell of
you... well, I think I can live with that."

He kissed her on the lips this time, stroking her silky hair with
one hand while balancing several photo albums on his lap.

Scully's cheeks were glowing now, warmed by his flattery as much as
his heated kisses.  "I can still hope for more, can't I?  I'd feel
better if we knew what happened to you.  Mulder,  I hate to bring
this up now, but there's no better time.  We're going to have to go
back to Hoover so we can use the resources there.  I'm going to want
to get back to the office next week."

"No problem.  We'll just go when the fewest people are there.  If I
don't remember someone, I'll play it by ear.  We're on vacation,
Scully.  Not banned from the building itself."

"I know.  But Skinner's been bugging me to take some time off.  If
we start spending a lot of time in the basement he'll personally
throw us out."

"Do you trust him, Scully?" 

She shrugged her shoulders, still baffled by the enigmatic AD.  He'd
been so helpful to her all these months, allowing her access to all
the Bureau's resources, cooperating with the Lone Gunmen's requests
for specific information.  She didn't know what to think of Skinner
anymore.  He was more friend than foe at this point.

"I'm not sure.  Most of the time I trust him.  I think he might warn
me before I revealed too much to him.  He's done that before,
especially when you were in the psychiatric ward at Georgetown.  He
told me he was already compromised--before I told him information
Krycek might desire."

"We don't have to tell him everything, Scully.  Just enough to get
his help in certain areas.  I don't think there's any way we can keep
the memory loss a secret from him forever.  It will come out sooner
or later, in a meeting about a case, maybe even a casual
conversation.  I can prepare myself for that by spending hours of
time at the office.  Or I can just try to take things as they come."

He shifted the photo albums to the couch beside him so he could put
his arm around her.  He put his feet up on the coffee table and
leaned back against the cushions of the old, but sturdy piece of
furniture.  Scully relaxed against his side after shuffling her
volume to an end table.

"Tell me more about your dad, Scully.  I only found a few paragraphs
about him in my journal.  I know there's so much more than that;
things you've never told me."

"It's been so long since we've talked about Dad, Mulder.  I wish I
could remember what I told you about him, but I had to skim over that
part of your journal.  I was more interested in how recent events
could help me find you when I used it last year, not those from the
early years of our partnership.  Should I just begin from the
beginning?"

He leaned over to press a kiss to the crown of her auburn hair, "I'd
prefer to hear your version anyway, Scully," he told her softly.

She squeezed his hand gently and began, "My father used to read to
me from Moby Dick when I was a little girl.  I can't remember the day
I started to call him Ahab, I was so young when I nicknamed him that.
And in return he called me Starbuck, his good little sailor."

Scully entwined her fingers with Mulder's and drew tiny circles on
his thumb as she continued, "He was gone for months on end, but
seemed ever-present, always in our hearts and minds.  His letters
were read out loud by the youngest child, as soon as they acquired
the ability to plow through his plainspoken words.  I couldn't wait
to learn how to read so I'd be the one to have that privilege."

"He was gone a lot, but when he was home, he was really home,
Mulder.  He spent every minute after school was out for the day with
one or more of his kids.  He'd never actually pull us out of school
or anything, he was too concerned about all of us doing better than
he had.  Which was really silly, in my opinion.  He was a great
success in life; a naval captain, a good husband, a great dad."

She tilted her face up toward Mulder's so he could see her eyes were
filled with unshed tears.  "I wish you could have met him.  He would
have understood you, Mulder."

"How so?" he whispered softly.  He didn't need much volume to be
heard distinctly in the stillness of the beachfront home.  By this
time of night, very few cars passed by outside and most winter
residents had turned in for the night.        

"He was a dreamer, too.  He'd spend so much time on his own at sea;
he'd come back with fascinating stories, some from books, some all
his own.  Stories about the stars, and the sea, and monsters of the
deep.  He'd always tell me a story before bedtime when he was home."

"He'd tell you scary tales at bedtime?" Mulder gawked.

"They weren't scary when he was through telling them.  The hero
always succeeded, always slew the giant squid or octopus or whatever
he came up with that night.  My mother would warn him not to tell us
a particularly chilling story, and, of course, that was the one we'd
beg for.  It took me years to realize my parents were playing a
little game with one another; she never really meant to dissuade him
all."

"What happened at bedtime when he wasn't around?" Mulder asked
curiously.

"Mom had her own repertoire, Mulder.  More like Grimm's fairy tales
than anything else.  Sometimes she'd improvise and change the
endings, but we always called her on it when she did that."

"Who was the disciplinarian of the family?"

"They both were, in their own ways.  It was kind of difficult for
Mom.  She could never say 'Wait until your father comes home!' to us.
She dealt with sibling fights and rivalry like she did everything
else, with fairness and lots of good humor."

"Didn't you ever rebel against your parents?  Or did you leave that
all to your siblings?" he wondered.

"Well, I know you're aware of Melissa's vagabond ways.  She was
always a free spirit, even as a young child.  I was constantly warned
by my parents not to end up like her, especially when she dropped out
of college and cruised up and down the California coast with her
friends.  Bill and I never did anything like that.  We didn't want to
disappoint Mom and Dad."

Scully smiled up at him and continued, "Of course, that didn't stop
Charlie from becoming a hellion in high school.  I was in college by
the time I started getting calls from my mom about his behavior. 
After just a few minutes of pleasant conversation, she'd give a
resigned sigh and tell me 'You're not going to believe what Charlie
did at school the other day.'"

Mulder gazed down at her, lifting his hand to guide one stray
tendril behind her ear.  "Where's Charlie now?"

"In Germany.  He was in the Army for his hitch and now he's married
to a native girl there.  They have three kids, but I rarely see them.
It's just too expensive to bring the whole family over," she said
wistfully.

Mulder winked at her and stroked her cheek with his thumb.  "Maybe
we'll get them over here soon.  So we can get all the little cousins
together."

Scully beamed up at him.  "I'd like that.  Bill's family is
stationed in Maryland temporarily.  They may be transferred back to
the West coast at any time, but it would be nice to plan on having
everyone here for Christmas."  She paused a beat, then asked, "Would
that be all right with you?  Really?"

He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips, and responded,
"Scully, it's only February... so much will be resolved by then.  It
will be more than all right with me."

She returned his kiss, pulling his chin toward her own and lingering
a little longer than he had.  She smiled, then unhooked his arm from
around her shoulder.  He raised his brows, silently asking her why
she was moving toward the other side of the couch.

"Let's finish looking at one last photo album, Mulder.  You want to
be well prepared for Mom, don't you?"

"It's not your mom I'm concerned about, Scully.  You know that," he
answered goodnaturedly.

"Bill's nothing but a show off, Mulder.  He's all bluster, no
substantial threat to you."

"Yeah, but his little sister's never been knocked up by her alien
chasing partner before, has she?  I can imagine what he was like when
he heard about this."

She reached over and pulled his hand into her lap, twining their
fingers once again.  

"Look, I already told you--my mother has already given him a
lecture.  He's heard my opinion loud and clear, and he won't be
giving you any trouble on Sunday."

Mulder ran the pad of his thumb over the smooth, soft skin of her
hand.  He licked at his lips, pausing to choose his words carefully,
"I... Scully... I just want to prove to them I'll be a good father. 
Like your Dad was."

Scully ran her hand along his strong jaw line, smiling at him.  "So
that's why you asked me about Dad."  She bobbed her head knowingly
and continued, "I thought there was more than mere curiosity in your
request."  

Her thumb stroked his full mouth lovingly, and she pulled him down
for a quick caress of his lips.

"You'll make a fine dad, Mulder.  I know you love children.  You're
wonderful with children.  You already were... with Emily," she
whispered softly.  

Scully's eyes welled with tears once again; this time they strayed
down her cheeks with abandon.  Mulder closed the gap between them,
pulling her against him tightly.  She buried her face against his
chest, finally giving in to thoughts and emotions she'd entertained
often while Mulder was gone.  

She'd often thought about those few days with Emily, how Mulder had
played so well with her, how the little girl had instantly taken a
shine to him.  More poignantly, she remembered Emily in his arms at
the children's home, feverish with an illness the Consortium had
given her.  She'd pushed Mulder away before Emily had died; she could
never exclude him from her life again.  More than ever, they needed
one another--to deal with Mulder's illness, to provide a happy, safe
environment for their newborn child. 

Mulder mumbled softly against her hair, "I don't want anything to
happen to our child.  No experimentation, no genetic juggling acts. 
We'll protect our baby.  We'll find a way, Scully."

"I know," she sniffled against his shirt.  She pulled away from him,
trying to compose herself, brushing tears from the corners of her
eyes.  

Her sobs had all but tapered off now, and she addressed him with
more courage now, "Mulder, we don't even know the truth yet.  I
didn't have any contact with Krycek until you came home.  Maybe he's
just trying to scare us.  He could be trying to manipulate us into
allowing him access to the baby."

Mulder nodded contemplatively, then answered, "I got really bad
vibes from him, Scully.  I do think he's responsible for my
absence... why return me now?  You're not ready to give birth.  Maybe
there's some physiological reason someone would want the baby's blood
at this stage in its development."

"It could be mean that the antibodies which provide immunity from
the alien virus don't mature until a certain stage in the baby's
development," Scully mused.

"You know I'm not a biologist, Scully.  I understand the basics and
I trust you'll know the rest if we need to pursue this line of
questioning.  But... I can tell you this right now... I'm not so sure
I want to trust anyone with this kind of information.  If you want to
find out about the baby's immune system we better be careful when and
where we conduct tests," he warned.

"We'll be cautious, Mulder," she asserted.  "We'll find a doctor
through the guys.  They have lots of physican friends.  I don't think
that's a problem.  I do think we need the resources of the Bureau. 
All their resources, including their protection."

Mulder rolled his lower lip between his teeth and slowly shook his
head in agreement.  "We'll have to tell Skinner, won't we?" he
concluded.

"There's no one else.  I know he's felt compromised in the past, but
he knows the importance of our battle against the Project, Mulder. 
If he can't help us directly, at least let's give him the opportunity
to find someone who will.  Unless Krycek controls the entire FBI
bureaucracy--which I seriously doubt.  There *has* to be a way past
this, don't you think?"

She reached out for his hand and brought it to her face once more,
rubbing her cheek against the palm of his hand.

"Let's look at one more album, Mulder," she proposed.

"Oh no, Scully!  Not another one!"  

He had enjoyed this Scully family cram session immensely, but he
couldn't resist poking fun at her zealous efforts to bring him up to
speed on every aspect of her kinfolk.  She seemed to be
overcompensating for his lack of memory by showering him with trivia
about relatives she'd rarely seen or heard from the last eight 
years.  

Every single great-aunt or uncle had some fascinating story
associated with them, but they'd been perusing photos for hours and
Mulder wanted to give Scully one last birthday present before
midnight--if he didn't pass out by then.  Sleeping with Scully every
night had all but cured him of insomnia this week.  It was unusual
for him to go a whole week without nightmares, and he wondered
whether it was her influence or some other factor they didn't
understand yet.  

Whatever had been done to him by his captors had been so subtle, so
undiagnosable, not a trace was left behind.  Mulder feared he might
be a human time bomb, programmed to detonate after so many weeks or
months back home.  He planned to see a psychotherapist as soon as he
was able, perhaps as soon as next Tuesday.  

He'd had enough experience with Posttraumatic Stress Disorder to
recognize its symptoms, and it disturbed him he had none.  The
inability to recall his captivity was almost as stressful as having
full knowledge of it.  In any case, it would help to discuss these
things with someone objective, someone who wasn't Scully.

She already had enough to worry about; he didn't want to burden her
with his wealth of insecurities.  She probably was already aware of
most of them, but he saw no reason to unload everything on her.  He'd
gone through voluntary therapy sessions before leaving Oxford and he
was willing to slog through it again if it would protect Scully in
the future.  

"Yes, Mulder.  This will the last, I promise!"  

Scully reached down into the soft-sided suitcase underneath the
coffee table and produced the goods.  She made herself comfortable
next to Mulder once again and allowed him to crack open the album.

"This is us!  These are from years ago!  How did you get all these
old clippings, Scully?" he asked.

He was already scanning each article with great interest.  This was
a virtual archive of their years together.  She'd managed to track
down almost every case which gained public recognition of some kind. 
Mulder knew only a fraction of their work was ever scrutinized by the
press, but this seemed like a complete record of their most high
profile cases, such as the Tooms case.

"I had a lot of help from our good friends.  I worked on this
scrapbook when I'd run out of leads on you the last few months.  I
started out with a shoebox full of yellowed newspaper articles I'd
saved over the years.  I decided to replace them with archival
quality copies so I could show the baby..."

Scully faltered, painful memories resurfacing with their
conversation.  She fought back tears so she could explain, "I was so
afraid you wouldn't be back for a long time, Mulder.  I wanted our
child to know what kind of man you were."

Mulder stroked her cheek gently with the back of one hand, then
assured her, "Don't cry, Scully.  I can't promise nothing will ever
happen to me but I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere if I have
anything to say about it.  I have two of the best reasons in the
world to stay out of trouble, you know."

Scully managed a weak smile, checking her emotions through sheer
willpower.  There were so many things she wanted to tell him, all
capable of triggering dramatic outbursts.  She'd never been this
demonstrative before her pregnancy.  She'd been the epitome of self-
restraint on the job and it embarrassed her to have Mulder see her
this way now.

She produced one of Mulder's old handkerchiefs from her pocket and
dried her eyes, composing herself before she spoke, "I don't like you
to see me this way, Mulder.  I'm sure you realize how humiliating--"

"Shh, Scully," he whispered, as he tangled one hand through her
auburn curls.  He could feel the tension in her neck muscles and he
gently caressed her there while he spoke, "There's no disgrace in
facing your feelings.  You don't have to hide from me.  I know what
you've been through, Scully.  Samantha had been gone for twenty years
the year I met you.  I can't imagine five days without you now, let
alone five months."

Scully's head fell forward to her chest in relaxation as he smoothed
his hands over her shoulders, banishing all the tension there.  She
closed her eyes and Mulder was pleased to see her smile once again.

"I'm going to really enjoy reading through this scrapbook, Scully,"
Mulder said quietly.  He pulled her close to his chest, lacing his
arms around her growing waistline.  His hands stayed in one place
while his lips travelled downward, layering kisses from her forehead
to the sensitive skin beneath her jaw.  He paused there, mouth
lingering across her cream-colored throat.

"Why don't we go to bed now?" he whispered in her ear.

"All right," she responded, turning slightly, rubbing her cheek
against his unshaven chin.

"Upsy daisy," he requested, pulling first himself, then Scully, to
her feet.

She shuffled along beside him, the feeling in her legs slowly
returning.  He put his arm around her and they tackled the steps
together, laughing at their uncoordinated efforts to climb in unison.
Finally, they established a rhythm between them; their efforts
rewarded by arriving at the second floor landing.

Scully giggled, her hand still entwined with his, ready to take the
last few steps to the bedroom.  Mulder had other ideas, leaning over
to press kisses throughout her hair, then down her cheek, and on to
her rosy-colored lips.  He lingered there a few minutes... their
mouths engaged in deep, passionate kisses, their hands threading
through one another's hair.

They parted with some hesitation, and Scully took the first step of
three small ones leading to the second floor.  She took the second
step, then the third one, then turned in abject horror at the sound
behind her.  Not only was Mulder not following her lead--he was
crumpled on the landing, groaning in agony, palms clenched tightly
against his forehead.

fin

Almost Home (16/?)
By Shoshana

February 24nd, 2001
Saturday
2:00 p.m.
Westerly Hospital
Westerly, Rhode Island

Bill Scully, Jr. screeched to a halt in front of the Emergency Room
door and told his mother, "Mom, I'll park and meet you inside."

Maggie Scully slammed the door of the Lariat rental and yelled over
an incoming vehicle's siren, "He might already be in a private room,
Bill.  Find me when you're done."

Bill pulled away from the curb, far more leisurely now, shaking his
head.  His mom had insisted they fly into Newport and drive to
Westerly, Rhode Island.  She would have done so herself if he hadn't
offered to come along, so he'd done the right thing and accompanied
her.  This was just one more frantic hospital visit of so many his
mother had been forced to endure.

He was really tired of this.  Either his sister or her borderline
insane partner were always getting injured, on and off the job.  He
was thankful Fox Mulder had finally shown up to take care of his very
pregnant sister.  Bill still disliked the man, but his mother had
convinced him Dana would never accept anyone else as the father of
her child.

Dana had promised she'd come for Sunday dinner tomorrow, but this
latest development had delayed any happy reunion for now.  His sister
had called at eight o'clock this morning, dead tired after an all-
night bedside vigil.  She'd asked their mom to come if she could; she
couldn't stand the thought of Mulder waking up alone.  

Bill Scully walked over to the Emergency Room desk and quickly
discovered Mulder had been transferred to a private room upstairs. 
He was listed in fair condition and had been there since shortly
after midnight.  He'd been air lifted by Charlestown Search and
Rescue within minutes of the 911 call from his family's summer home.

Maggie intercepted her son in the hallway before he could enter the
room.  She took his hand and told him solemnly, "Fox hasn't regained
consciousness yet, Bill.  She'll only leave for a shower and some
rest if I stay with him.  Do you think you could wait outside?"

Her eyes begged his forgiveness for excluding him, but Bill knew why
it wasn't such a great idea for him to sit with his mom.  He'd never
gotten along with Mulder, a situation he was determined to remedy in
the near future.  This morning held no promise for conciliation with
his sister's partner, 'boyfriend,' whatever he was to her--Bill was
well-advised to fade into the woodwork of this small regional
hospital. 

"All right, Mom.  I'll talk to Dana, then I'll buy a few magazines
at the gift shop.  Would you like some coffee?" he offered.

"Sure, son," she said fondly, patting his shoulder with motherly
affection.  "Thanks so much for getting me here so fast.  The
prognosis is very good, Dana says.  No evidence of an aneurysm, no
unusual brain activity."

Bill heard the door to the private room open and close quietly
behind him.  He turned around and gave his obviously exhausted,
disheveled sister a giant bear hug.

"Dana, you go rest now... Mom will watch over Mulder, and *I'll*
watch over Mom," he assured her.

Dana Scully squeezed her brother's hand firmly, then spoke in a
tired, thready voice, "Thank you, Bill.  I'm going to do just that."

Scully's eyes were still red from tears shed earlier that morning,
but the latest news on Mulder's general condition had encouraged her.
It was unusual for a patient to sleep for over twelve hours, but not
unheard of.  There had been no traumatic injury; Mulder had simply
passed out on the second floor landing, remaining there until the
paramedics tied him to a gurney and flew him to the nearby hospital.

She kissed her mom on the cheek and walked toward the Nurses'
Station, ready to take them up on their offer of a shower and nap in
the staff locker room.  Mrs. Scully took leave of Bill and crossed
the hall to enter Mulder's room.  She was pleasantly surprised at the
absence of any monitoring devices.  There was an IV drip providing
nourishment and hydration to the sleeping agent, but no other tubes
present.

Maggie sat down in the upholstered chair next to Mulder's bed, still
warm from Dana's long, stressful watch.  She hoped her daughter would
get several hours rest now, confident her significant other was in
good hands.  Mrs. Scully understood why neither of them implicitly
trusted hospital personnel anymore.

Dana had recently told her about Mulder's hospital stay at
Georgetown Memorial.  She didn't usually tell her mother such
details, but her daughter had been trying to explain why Fox may have
been abducted.  Dana Scully didn't often answer her mother's probing
questions so openly, but her need for a confidante had been obvious
to her mom.  

"Hello, Fox," she said, taking his limp hand in both of her smaller
ones.  "If you're ready now... we'd appreciate it if you'd wake up,"
she joked.  

She chuckled softly to herself and lowered her hands to her lap. 
Before she could decide whether she would knit or read while waiting
for her daughter's return, a soft knock at the door signalled her son
with the promised coffee. 

*******************************************************************

8:00 p.m.
Mulder's hospital room

Dana Scully looked over at her mom from the seat beside her.  She
looked exhausted, having hopped on a plane at a moment's notice, then
driven from Newport to the hospital.  Miraculously, Scully had slept
for almost six hours in the staff locker room.  She'd been so dead
tired not even the chatter from employees in the lunch room close by
had disturbed her. 

"Mom?"

"Yes, honey?" her mom answered, eyelids fluttering with fatigue.

"Go get Bill and check into a motel.  I'll be fine now."

Maggie Scully took her daughter's hand in her own and answered,
"Okay, Dana.  Why don't you check with the Nurse's station later? 
I'll call and let you know where we are."

They both rose from their chairs and Dana embraced her mom tightly,
telling her, "Thanks so much, Mom.  I wouldn't have made it without
you."

"He's going to be all right, honey.  I just know it," she soothed.

Scully glanced over at Mulder on the bed where he was still sleeping
soundly.  Occasionally, he'd mumble to himself--he was definitely
experiencing REM sleep, another positive sign of recovery.  She
wondered if he was having nightmares earlier; his face had scrunched
into a painful grimace for a few seconds, then he'd relaxed, his jaw
going slack as the fleeting moment passed.

"I'm certain of it, Mom.  The neurologist didn't find anything wrong
with him.  They have every expectation he'll come out of it tonight. 
I'll call you as soon as he wakes, okay?"

Maggie smiled and reminded her, "I don't care what the hour is, you
just call, sweetie."

Scully escorted her out to the waiting room so she could thank Bill
again.  They both understood how much she wanted to get back to the
room, taking their leave from her with little ado.  Scully strode
swiftly back to Mulder's side and stood beside the bed for several
minutes, holding his hand and wondering whether his dreams were so
important they'd taken precedence over his conscious, waking life.

She carefully sat next to him on the bed, avoiding the ever-present
IV.  "What's going on in there, Mulder?" she queried, stroking his
warm forehead.

The room they were in was cool and comfortable, but she felt
compelled to fidget with the thin thermal blanket which barely 
covered his torso.  She was adjusting it to conform to the long, 
straight line of his body when the hand not encumbered by an IV 
moved swiftly to cover her own.  Scully was startled temporarily, 
recoiling slightly at the unexpected movement.  Her eyes moved 
from his lower half to his face, catching the tail end of a 
self-satisfied puckish expression.

"Gotcha big time," he rasped.

"Oh, Mulder!" she exclaimed, shifting her weight so she could get
closer to him.  "Don't try to get up," she cautioned, pushing him
back against his pillows.  

She reached beside her and grabbed the device controlling the tilt
of the adjustable mattress.  She depressed the button and the upper
half of the bed rose slowly.  

Mulder grinned as he warned her in a scratchy voice, "Scully, I
don't think that's the 'magic fingers' control.  I think we'll have
to wait until we check into a cheaper motel."

Scully grinned back at him, then leaned over to kiss his dry,
chapped lips.  "Hold on, I'll get some water for you."  

She filled a cup with water and held the straw as he took a small
sip of the cool liquid, resuming her place beside him on the bed.

"Mom's here," she said before he could finish his drink.

"Really?  How long have I been out, Scully?  And where are we?" he
asked, looking around the room with curiosity.

"Almost twenty hours.  Westerly Hospital," she answered, smiling
broadly.

"Twenty hours!  No shit!  No wonder I had such great dreams!"

"You did?"

"Well, some of them were nightmarish, but they were all very
entertaining.  Scully, did we see a yacht in a trailer park last
year?" he queried, squinting his eyes in mild disbelief. 

"Yeah... we did," she drawled slowly.  Scully's eyes enlarged with
wonder, and her hands gesticulated frantically in the air, attempting
to ferret out the meaning of his question.  "But, Mulder... you
couldn't possibly know that... you haven't read anything about last
year in your journal!" 

Mulder stilled her frenetic hands with his own, then winked at her
suggestively, "Did we do it in the car on a balmy July Fourth night,
Scully?"

"Oh, God!  Mulder!  You've remembered!  Oh, God.  What else?"

Mulder's mood changed drastically as he retrieved images from his
catalogue of dreams.  "Scully... you're going to want to examine my
scalp for puncture wounds.  That's how they delivered the drugs when
I was taken."

Her lips parted, trembling with anxiety and frustration.  She licked
her lips nervously and clutched at his hands.  "They did?" she
finally croaked out.

Mulder wished he could erase his last comment no sooner than it had
left his throat.  He should have waited until much later to tell her
about his captivity.  She was probably exhausted, sitting up with him
all night while he dreamed about their last year together.  It wasn't
fair to lay this on her now.  He pulled her close to his chest,
battling with the IV line in their way.

"Scully..." he whispered softly in her ear.  "I only remember things
piecemeal.  It's like a crazy quilt of memories; all jumbled up and
thrown back into my head."  He sighed joylessly against her before
continuing, "I don't want you to hear all the bad stuff right away...
okay?  I'd rather tell you about taking long drives in the sticks or
seeing the sun rise on the beach.  I'll tell you everything--but not
today.  You're tired, aren't you?"

"A little.  I got some sleep while Mom watched over you," she said,
battling the impulse to break down in tears.

"Do you have to talk to the doctor?  Or do you want to lay down next
to me and sleep a little more?" he asked, rubbing his nose against
her freshly washed hair.

She considered this a moment, then said, "Let me call the nurse.  We
need to get this IV out of your arm and we need the doctor's
approval."  She leaned out of their embrace and stroked his cheek
with her forefinger.  "I didn't say anything about your amnesia,
Mulder.  I told the doctor you'd been held against your will because
of your occupation--nothing more than that."

"Maybe I'll learn more next time--" Mulder responded with
excitement, his mind still swimming with intriguing, but widely
scattered images of the past year.

Scully wrest free of his loose grip on her arms, pacing away from
the bed in anger.  Her back quivered slightly underneath the too
large sweater someone had let her borrow from the staff room.  

She clenched her fists tautly, and spat out her response with her
back to Mulder, "Next time?  You want there to be a next time?  Do
you have any idea what I've been through since last night, Mulder? 
If this is the price you have to pay for regaining your memories--"

She lowered her head into her hands, swaying unsteadily as she
sought to contain her exasperation.  Mulder scrambled off the bed,
his IV line tripping him up for a few transitory moments before he
unsnaked the line and wheeled the device across the room.

"Scully," he whispered tentatively, his free hand tracing the
contour of her shuddering forearm.

She flinched away, still infuriated at his comment.  Her deeply
ingrained medical training chastened her fit of pique when she
realized Mulder was trailing his saline solution behind him.  She
twirled around quickly, making a cursory visual inspection of the
damage done.  

Mulder maintained several inches between them, unwavering in his
placatory attitude or stance.  He braced himself for a lecture from
Dr. Scully, but none was forthcoming.  Her cheeks flushed with
embarrassment and an acute sense of how ridiculously undignified and
foolish she felt at the moment.

Mulder extended his hand to her, eyes pleading for absolution.  She
closed the distance between them, speaking softly and guiding him
back to bed, "I shouldn't have reacted like, Mulder.  You must be
elated to remember anything at all from last year."

She readjusted his IV line as they sat down next to each other on
the bed.  She continued, "I don't want to see you go through this
every time your body decides it's time to take a trip down memory
lane.  I didn't tell you before, Mulder... your vitals were extremely
weak on the way over here.  I was really worried about you."

Mulder's face fell instantly, supremely miserable she'd had to
endure another medical scare on his behalf.  He slipped his free arm
around her and said quietly, "I'm so sorry, Scully.  If I'd been
thinking clearly... I wouldn't have anticipated another incident like
this with such enthusiasm... I don't want to put you through this
again."

Scully threaded her arm around his waist and tilted her head against
his shoulder.  She lifted her eyes to meet his and told him, "I'm
sorry, too.  I shouldn't have blown up at you, but I *am* worried
about future episodes happening when we can't get medical assistance
so easily.  I'm going to become too pregnant to deal with every
eventuality--"

"Let's not worry, Scully.  We'll be more careful.  We'll keep the
cell phone handy, if it makes you feel better.  What makes you so
sure I'll have another attack?  Maybe the rest of my memory will
return during my regular dream cycle.  In any case, I feel more
competent to deal with your family now... I won't have to lie to them. 
And I remember who you are, Scully... every bit of who you are," he
whispered softly before leaning down to kiss her warm lips.

They lost themselves in a welcome moment of passion, chasing away
concerns about the future.  They broke off their kiss, hungry for
oxygen--both exhausted by their stressful argument.  Scully slipped
her head against his chest and waited for them to catch their breath.

She spoke quietly, but firmly, "Mulder, I'm going to get the doctor
now.  I know you'll be kept overnight for observation and I'm sure
you want to get rid of the IV.  I think they'll discharge you by noon
tomorrow if there's nothing else revealed by then."

"What about your mom, Bill?"

"I promised to call her, and I will--but not until the morning. 
They were tired from travelling and as long as you're doing well I
don't see any reason to wake her."  She lifted her head to address
him directly, "You know we'll be driving back to the summer house
with them--they'll probably fly back today."

"We could get rid of their rental and drive back in your car.  I
think I can be civil to Bill that long," he quipped.

"You really don't know Bill, do you?" she laughed back.

"I don't think I ever have--have I?" he said, searching his mind
for some concrete image of the man.

"No, you haven't.  Even if you remembered your few encounters with
him... you wouldn't really know the man.  I think you've spent a 
total of three hours in his presence, and that's only because you 
came out to San Diego when I was seeking custody of Emily."

Mulder flinched against her, guilt sweeping through him like a
poison.  Scully noted his pained expression and intervened, "Don't,
Mulder.  Don't blame yourself--you didn't create Emily and you
didn't hasten her death.  We have so much to look forward to and I
don't want you to dwell on the past."

"It's hard not to when I'm consciously trying to recreate it in my
mind.  These dreams I had all day... everything must have happened
after October 1999.  I didn't get any farther in my journal and even
though you've filled me in on Samantha and a few other things, I'm
still confused by some of the images.  Why did we go to an office
building looking for the Cancer Man's office?  There's more to that
story, isn't there?"

Scully placed her hands behind his neck, rubbing her fingers across
the nape of his neck.  Her right hand swept through his disheveled
hair, and she pulled him down gently for a brief kiss.  He could tell
this was a painful revelation for her; he almost wished he'd kept his
big mouth shut.

"Cancer Man offered me the Holy Grail, a cure for all diseases.  I
ditched you, Mulder, then I ran off to some resort in Pennsylvania
and almost got myself killed.  My 'informant' was conveniently shot
to death, probably by Spender.  The disk he insisted I take along
with me was blank.  You were royally pissed and wouldn't look me in
the eye--until we went to the bogus office Spender had set up for
himself."

She looked away from him quickly, but he caught a glimpse of self-
reproach in her eyes.  Mulder hooked his finger around the tip of her
chin and forced her to concentrate on his words.  

"That's the part I remember--speaking to you in an empty office.  I
also recall taking you to your apartment immediately afterward and
kissing you goodnight, Scully.  I couldn't possibly have been *that*
upset if things ended so positively." 

He smiled at her warmly, then watched the subtle changes in her 
face as her mood lightened.  Scully pursed her lips nervously, then
the corners of her mouth formed a pleased expression which reached
her eyes.
 
She ran her fingers down his arm, resting her hand around his wrist
lightly as she responded, "You're going to be insufferable,  Mr. 
Know-It-All... you know that?"

He grinned back and remarked innocently, "I thought I already was
insufferable."

"Just incorrigible until today, Mulder."

"That's me, earning new adjectives daily for your amusement," he
replied, caressing her forehead with a slow, warm kiss.

Scully yawned openly as he retreated a few inches from her--lack of
eight hours sleep had finally caught up with her.

"How about some more rest, sleepyhead?" he asked, turning his wrist
in her hand so he could entwine their fingers.

"Okay.  I'll go get the doctor.  Like I said, I don't think they'll
keep you past noon."  She glanced at her wristwatch.  "I think I
*will* call Mom.  It's only nine o'clock and she did tell me to call
her as soon as you woke."

Scully slipped off the bed, smoothing her wrinkled clothes, then
turned to give him one last kiss before stopping to use the mirror in
the attached bathroom.  Mulder discovered the remote control for the
TV set in the few seconds it took to make her presentable, and he
was busily clicking channels when she exited to find the doctor.

Several hours later, she was asleep in his arms, too weary to watch
any more of "Plan Nine From Outer Space."  Mulder was listening to
the film with only half an ear, watching her slumber peacefully. 
His mind wandered, settling on newly recovered memories from last
July Fourth--when their own fireworks display had lasted long into
the night.  

fin


Almost Home (17/?)
By Shoshana

February 25nd, 2001
Sunday
12:30 p.m.
US Highway One
Rhode Island

"So when are you two lovebirds gonna tie the knot?" Bill asked the
agents,  glancing to the backseat of the rental car.

"Bill!" scolded Maggie Scully, seated next to him in the front.  

Scully sighed with resignation, then lifted her wrist in the air to
check her watch.  "It only took you fifteen minutes to pester Mulder,
Bill.  I'm touched by your restraint."

Mrs. Scully turned to her son and added, "Fox just got out of the
hospital, Bill.  Leave Dana and him alone.  I'm sure you'll be one of
the first to know--after me, that is."  

Maggie half-turned in her seat, smiling at her daughter and Mulder. 
Mulder seemed embarrassed at her scrutiny, managing a forced smile in
return.

"If we're going to be together in this car for almost eight hours,
Mom, I might as well get the burning question over with, don't you
think?" Bill responded, glancing quickly at his mom.  

His hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly, unfazed by his
mother's reprimand.  He enjoyed putting Mulder on the spot about his
sister's pregnancy.  He was surprised they hadn't rushed over to a
local justice court and done the deed as soon as possible.  He 
would--if it were Tara in Dana's position.

"I agree," Mulder voiced from the back seat.

Scully shot him a glare, annoyed he might fall for Bill's taunts. 
She knew Mulder couldn't resist reacting to Bill, especially when it
involved the subject of marriage.  She knew why they hadn't wed
immediately; she'd resisted Mulder's proposal, hoping he'd recover
some of his memories.  He'd done so in the last twenty-four hours,
and there was a good chance he'd remember more of the last eight
years shortly.  

She knew nothing stood in the way of matrimony now, but she didn't
want to explain Mulder's memory loss to her brother.  Bill probably
still believed Mulder had been AWOL the last five months.  She didn't
feel the need to encourage his cynicism about her partner.

She also was concerned about something else, pressing her palm
across Mulder's mouth before he could utter another word.

"Mulder, I don't think this is the place," she warned.

He gently pulled her fingers away from his lips and entwined their
hands on the seat beside them.  "Scully, there's no way this car is 
bugged.  Your mom told me they didn't have time to reserve a rental.
No one knew Bill was going to rent it in Newport."

"Why all the paranoia?  Are you guys being followed around by
aliens?" Bill asked sarcastically.

"Bill, please stop.  You have no idea what Fox and Dana are going
through.  I probably know more about that than you do, and as your
mother, I'm going to have to ask you to ease off.  They don't deserve
this kind of treatment," Maggie advised her son.

"Look, there's a really simple explanation to why Dana and I weren't
married the day I got back from Oregon--" Mulder began.

"Mulder!  You don't have to do this," Scully interrupted.

"No, I do, Scully.  I want Bill and Maggie to know."  He'd just
started to call Scully's mother 'Maggie' that morning, at her
request.  It rolled off his tongue awkwardly, and he had to pause to
collect his thoughts.  After a beat, he continued, "I couldn't marry
Dana because I couldn't remember her."

Maggie turned all the way around in her seat as she let out a little
gasp.  She extended her hand to Mulder, and asked in a worried tone,
"What did they do to you, Fox?  Are you going to be all right?"

Mulder leaned forward and took her hand, squeezing once lightly,
smiling at her encouragingly.  "I'll be fine, Maggie.  We think it's
starting to reverse itself.  That's why I had this episode last
night," he explained.

"So how'd you recognize my sister last Monday?  I heard she was over
at your apartment when you came home," Bill asked curiously.

"It's really none of your business how he knew me, Bill.  He came
home to his apartment and I was there waiting for him.  End of
discussion," she snapped at her brother.

"Scully, it's all right.  I don't mind telling him, or your mother. 
I want both of you to understand that I had every intention of
marrying Scully from the very first night I got back.  No, I didn't
recognize her immediately.  In fact, I even pulled a gun on her when
I found her in my bedroom."

Bill and Maggie's mouths dropped open at this revelation.  Bill
stared in the rear view mirror, eyeing his future brother-in-law. 
Mulder was pleased to render Bill speechless, but didn't want to
upset Mrs. Scully, so he continued, "It took me about thirty seconds
to drop my weapon once I saw it was a pregnant woman.  I would never
harm Dana--both of you know that."

Scully stayed silent, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.  She
wasn't happy about Mulder's candor, but she knew she couldn't prevent
him from relating the story to her family.  He seemed to be getting
some pleasure out of making Bill squirm.  She was trying to stay
neutral, but she was relishing a little Bill Scully torture herself.

Maggie placed her hand on her son's shoulder, stilling his next
comment.  She had her own questions to ask.  "Dana, how can this be? 
How have you been coping all week if Mulder didn't remember you?"

"I remembered her," interjected Mulder.  He caught Scully's
frustrated glare and apologized, "Sorry, Scully."

"It's okay, Mulder.  I think it might be better if you explained it
anyway.  I'm the skeptic, right?  I think it's a lot easier for you
to explicate your own theories.  Not that I don't see some truth in
this one.  I do.  You go ahead and I'll listen, too."

Mulder reached over to take her hand, but directed his gaze at
Maggie and Bill.  "They, whoever held me captive, tried to rob me of
eight years of my life by wiping out my memories.  But the
subconscious mind must work in mysterious ways--I knew I was in
the right place, that I belonged with Dana.  I didn't recognize her
face immediately, but other senses told me who she is, what she means
to me."  

He turned to look at his partner fondly, who returned his attention
with a warm smile.  Maggie's expression was still serious; she wanted
to know more about the connection with his collapse the night before.

"You regained your memory?  What about your health?  Are you going
to have more incidents like last night?" Maggie inquired.

"I gained back some of last year's memories.  It's like a big jigsaw
puzzle.  The pieces keep coming back slowly, and I only remember 
stuff from the last year or so," Mulder responded.  He faltered on 
the question of his fitness, glancing over at Scully, entreating her 
to answer for him.

"We don't know if he'll have another episode, Mom.  We'll have to be
careful; stay near a phone, near civilization.  I'm afraid he's not
going back in the field as quickly as he'd like," she remarked,
lowering her eyes to their joined hands.

She hadn't broached this subject with Mulder, but she was sure he
knew the score.  He couldn't return to active duty for awhile, at
least until they were fairly confident he wouldn't have excruciating
headaches, followed by total blackouts.  

"Can you take a leave of absence?" Bill asked, his tone more
sympathetic, more accepting than before.

"I won't do that.  I'll work out of the office until we decipher the
medical problem.  I'm sure *we* will," he said, looking over at
Scully for confirmation.

Scully lifted her downcast eyes, offering Mulder a reassuring smile.
She had her doubts, but now was not the time to voice them.  She
didn't know how to prevent any more trips to the emergency room, at
least not yet.  She'd make him see a neurologist, perhaps get a
prescription for something to prevent seizures.  She didn't feel
qualified to make the decision herself, but knew Mulder would listen
to a specialist about this.  He wouldn't want to jeopardize her or
the baby by becoming seriously ill unexpectedly.

"You'll both be fine.  You always have been," Maggie said soothingly.

Scully leaned forward in her seat, grasping her mom's hands in her
own.  "Thanks, Mom.  I knew you'd understand."  She turned her head
to her now taciturn brother and said, "Thanks, Bill.  For trying to
understand.  I know it's hard for you," she added lightheartedly.

"I'm not a total jerk, am I, Mulder?" Bill joked, glancing first at
his sister, than in the rear view mirror at the man behind him.

"Honestly?  I don't remember anything about our previous encounters
with one another, Bill.  I have a few notes in my journal, but they
don't bias me about you one way or the other.  I'm sure I'll remember
you eventually, but I don't think animosity in the past is worth
worrying about.  I don't see any reasons we can't be friendly.  I
want to be part of Scully's family--I don't have anyone left in my
own."

Mulder's voice wavered on his final words, and he swiftly averted
his eyes from both Bill and his mother.  Scully caressed his hand
lightly with her thumb, wishing she felt bold enough to embrace him
in front of her relatives.  It wasn't often Mulder laid bare his
insecurities in front of strangers.  She knew he'd seen her mother in
the last year, but she wasn't sure that memory was available to him
yet.  She was positive Mulder hadn't seen Bill since 1998, when she'd
tried to adopt Emily.  

She'd seen Mulder show his emotions in the company of other men
before, but this was her brother, a man she was sure he wanted to
impress.  Scully wanted to take him in her arms, reassuring him that
Bill wouldn't think any less if he broke down into sobs there and
then.  She decided against it, sensing Mulder's need to maintain some
dignity after revealing a vulnerability of which only she knew.  

Mulder had been lost emotionally for weeks after his mother's
suicide, and despite his statements to the contrary, she felt the
discovery of Samantha's death had depressed him a great deal.  He'd
never felt more alone then at that time in his life, and she'd been 
so grateful he'd turned to her.  They'd become so close since New 
Year's Eve that year and she knew Mulder considered her his only 
family.  She'd accepted that role--even before they'd moved from 
friends to lovers she knew she'd never stray far from Mulder's 
company the rest of her life.   

Maggie Scully broke the uneasy silence with her tranquil voice,
"Fox, you'll always be part of this family.  You already were, before
Dana's pregnancy.  We're so happy you're back."

She reached across the passenger seat again and offered her hand,
which Mulder took gladly, grinning affectionately at his soon to be
mother-in-law.  He released her delicate hand, then leaned forward
and gently slapped Bill on his shoulder, saying "You're stuck with 
me, Bill.  Maggie said so."

Bill laughed and the two women in the car noticeably relaxed, both
delighted to see the testosterone level was in no danger of further
elevation.  Scully and her mother had discussed the merits of putting
Mulder and Bill Scully, Jr. in a sedan for the eight hour drive to DC
while the two men were out of earshot.  They'd cleared a big hurdle
by revealing why she hadn't wanted to get married right away.  Scully
knew what was next on the agenda, and she'd no way to prepare Mulder
for her mother's next words.

"Well, if there's nothing preventing you from marrying, Dana...
why don't we spend our time in the car wisely and discuss what kind
of wedding you'd like?" Maggie said cheerily.

Scully's first inclination was to groan and tell her mother she
didn't want to talk about this right now.  It seemed silly and
inconsequential compared to the problems she and Mulder faced with
the Consortium.  However, she and Mulder had already agreed *not* to
tell her mother about threats against the baby.  Mulder had kept up
his part of the bargain; he'd come clean on the memory loss, but he
hadn't breathed a word about Krycek's warning.  

She welcomed the diversion of discussing ceremonies, dresses,
caterers, and shoes with her mom.  Scully was certain Mulder would
doze off beside her after a few minutes of mother/daughter
conversation.  Bill would stay awake to the sound of sports radio,
which he was already struggling to tune in.  She might tell her mom
about the dangers they were facing later on, but now was not a good
time.

*********************************************************************
******
The Mulder Summer Home, Quonochontaug, Rhode Island
1:30 p.m.

Mulder and Scully scurried around the summer home, gathering their
possessions, then took measures to close the place down until next 
time they vacationed there.  Maggie and Bill had opted for a walk to 
the beach and would return within ten minutes, so they swiftly threw
out the little garbage they had made and recovered the couch and 
kitchen table.

Scully was upstairs, packing her bag, when Mulder came up behind
her, "Where's your ring, Scully?  I didn't see it on you today or I
would have pointed it out to your mom."

"Oh, dear.  It's down in the kitchen.  I took it off when we did
dishes last night.  Let's not forget it, Mulder."

She slammed her case shut and tried to move away from the bed, but
was penned in on both sides by two Mulder-sized arms.  She laughed
and squirmed against him as he refused to let her go.

"Mulder!  We have to go!"

"Everything's packed and ready to go.  All I have to do is set the
alarm.  Just one more kiss to make everything better, Scully," he
teased.

"Okay," she said, turning in his arms as he released his grip on
elbows.  

They kissed deeply, trying to create one last memory in this home
before leaving for DC.  Neither wanted to dwell on Mulder's traumatic
experience on the second floor landing, nor did they care to consider
how soon such an event might reoccur.  Hopefully, they'd put a stop 
to his violent headaches and prevent another trip to the hospital.

"Hello!"  Bill's voice bellowed from the first floor, signalling
they were ready to go.

The lovers broke their kiss and Mulder yelled back, "Be right down!"
He smiled down at Scully, gathering in how pretty she looked, even
after a long night at the hospital.  "Thanks, Scully." 

"For what?" she asked, slightly amused.

"For sticking with me through all of this."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know.  I can't imagine a day without you, Scully... and I
want you to know how much I appreciate you.  How much I love you."

He leaned down to kiss her once more, cutting it short when he heard
Mrs. Scully's voice call, "Dana!" from the front door.

"Let's go Mulder.  If we're lucky Mom will take a nap and stop
talking about great receptions she's known and loved."

"Oh, I must have slept through that part of your conversation. 
Conveniently," he said with a smile.

They grabbed their suitcases and headed downstairs.  Mulder set the
alarm and they all piled into the car.  Bill was about to pull away
from the house when Scully yelled for him to stop.  Mulder understood
immediately, reaching for his door, then running back to unlock the
house.  He was back in less than two minutes, Scully's ring shoved
into the pocket of his jeans.

"What was that all about?" Maggie asked as they pulled out of the
driveway.

"This," Mulder said, his chest still heaving from his brisk sprint.

He grabbed Scully's left hand, slipping the ring onto her finger
before she could protest.  She blushed at the attention she received
from both her mom and Bill, who had slowed the car down to peer over
his shoulder with interest.

Maggie snaked her arm around the headrest, beckoning her daughter to
let her see the ring.  She oohed and ahhed until Scully was
sufficiently embarrassed, burrowing her hand beneath her jeans.

"Mom, quit it.  It's just a ring."

She was a little exasperated with her mom's reaction, but secretly
pleased the gem had passed her inspection.

"It's my grandmother's ring," Mulder told Maggie proudly. 

Mulder was glad her mother was making a fuss over it, and was even
enjoying Scully's discomfort, though he knew he shouldn't.  She was
adorable when she interacted with her mother, especially about this
lighthearted stuff.  He'd pretended to sleep earlier so he could
eavesdrop on their conversation.

"It's beautiful, Dana.  Did Fox just give it to you?" Maggie 
inquired.

Scully reddened slightly, much to her discomfort.  She didn't know
why this was so difficult to talk about.  It wasn't like her mother
hadn't known about their romance last year.  Even her brother knew
now.  She felt Mulder's hand on her own, his fingers stroking her
knuckles tenderly.

"Yes," she gulped.  Her free hand moved to her stomach, resting
there comfortably.  "Last Thursday, at the summer house."

"Well, it's lovely.  We'll have to get you to a jeweler for wedding 
bands before the week is out," Maggie added helpfully.

"Mom!  There's no rush!" Scully protested.

Mulder chuckled beside her and Scully threw him a dirty look.  He
continued to smile and play with her hand as he said, "I knew Maggie
would be my best ally."

"Co-conspirator is more like it," Scully asserted playfully.

Bill had already pulled back on the road a minute ago after taking a
quick glance at the ring.  He fiddled with the radio, finding an
oldies station right away.  He looked in the rear view mirror and saw
Mulder yawning lazily, then heard his sister sleepily echo him.
He resisted the urge to yawn himself, sipping some of the coffee 
they'd bought at a minimart earlier in the day.

"You two get some rest.  You too, Mom.  I always sleep like a log
and last night was no exception," Bill said.

"Okay, son.  You wake me up if you need me to drive," Maggie
responded.  She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, truly
satisfied with her day.

Mulder tugged at Scully's hand to get her attention, then patted his
lap, hoping she'd take the hint and recline against him awhile.  He
knew he could sleep sitting up, but didn't want to see her do so. 
She had all that extra weight on her back muscles and she'd be more
comfortable lying down.

Scully didn't need much persuasion.  Even in the company of her
mother and brother, Mulder's lap made a tempting pillow.  She knew he
would brush her hair softly while she fell asleep against the rough
material of his jeans.

fin


Almost Home (18/?)
By Shoshana

February 25nd, 2001
Sunday
9:00 p.m.
Scully family home, Maryland

"Scully?  Scully?"

She opened her eyes slowly, disoriented for a few seconds.  She
could feel Mulder's calloused hand stroking her cheek, but couldn't
see very far in the dim light of the car's back seat.

"What?" she mumbled, attempting to sit up with difficulty.

"We're at your mom's house, Scully.  We're here.  You slept the
whole way."

"Oh, boy.  Help me up and out of here, Mulder."

Scully allowed him to lift her to a sitting position, too groggy to
protest his gentle efforts.

"She wants us to stay overnight, but I know you have an early
doctor's appointment.  What do you want to do?" he asked, helping her
out of the car.

"Gotta drive home," she said, leaning against him until the tingling
in her feet subsided.

"I'll drive," Mulder said glibly.

"You shouldn't," she cautioned.

 "I'll be careful, Scully.  It's only an hour or so.  I slept all
day.  Come on, we're supposed to come in for a few minutes."

They made their way up the porch steps and walked straight to the
kitchen where Bill and Maggie were bringing Tara up to speed on the
day's events.  Tara rushed to Scully, taking her hand solicitously
and leading her to a chair.  

"Wow, look at you, Dana.  You're as big as I was in my seventh
month," she said with wonder.

"I know.  The baby will be in the NBA by the time he's a teenager at
this rate."  She smiled at Mulder, who was leaning casually against
the kitchen counter.  He was already slugging down some coffee Maggie
had shoved into his hand the minute he'd entered the room.

"My spotless genetics," he quipped, drawing curious looks from the
rest of the family and a hearty laugh from Scully.  "Sorry, private
joke," he added, as he noticed the blank expressions around them.

"It's a long story, too long for now, Mom.  We better get going, I
have an early appointment.  Bill, did you ever find out how long
you'll be stationed here?" she addressed her brother.

"About three more months.  Perfect timing, uh?" he said, walking
behind her chair, then leaning down to give her a brotherly kiss on
the cheek.  

He patted her shoulders, then extended his hand to Mulder, who
juggled his mug to receive it.  "Take care on the road, buddy.  Hope
to see you pretty soon."

"I'm sorry you have to leave, but this means you *are* coming over
next Sunday, doesn't it?" Maggie asked hopefully.

"Yes, Mom.  I'll try to keep Mulder out of the ER on Sunday, just
for you."

Scully tried to get up by herself, but Tara was at her side in half
a second.  She grinned at her sister-in-law, truly grateful she could
share her pregnancy with her.  They would have to have a long talk
next Sunday after dinner.  Scully hadn't been able to wholeheartedly
participate in the birth of Matthew in January 1998.  No one had
faulted her for that; they'd all understood what's she'd gone through
with Emily.  

She'd tried to make up for it by being a good aunt over the years,
but her schedule was so hectic sometimes--she'd often missed Bill and
Tara's visits to her mother.  Now was the time to remedy that
situation.  It also served to take her mind off more sinister
subjects, ones she'd never reveal to her family unless their lives
depended on it.

Maggie shoved a care package into Mulder's arms, kissed both agents
goodbye and the family stood on the house steps in the brisk February
night to wave as they pulled out of the driveway.

"That wasn't so bad, was it, Mulder?" Scully asked, brushing her
hand against his as he steered toward the freeway.

"Bill didn't kick my butt.  Your mom likes me.  What's not to love?"
he answered.

Scully chuckled, moving her hand to the back of his neck to massage
his stiff muscles.

"My mom has liked you for a long time.  She's always defended you,
especially when you were missing.  I don't know how I would have made
it without her," she responded wistfully.         

"So, you going to call the minister she suggested?" Mulder tossed
out daringly.
     
"Mulder!  Weren't you sound asleep during our conversation?  It's
not polite to eavesdrop!" she teased him, moving her hand to his
shoulder and working the muscle there.

"Whoa, Scully.  You've got quite a grip, there," he said, shrugging
her away gently.  "I would *never* listen in on your private
conversations, would I?"

Scully looked at him dubiously, then ordered, "Drive, Mulder.  
Drive."

"Yes, ma'am," he responded.  Thirty seconds later, he added, "It was
only a rhetorical question--"

"I know, they're your specialty," she retorted.  

She traced her finger down his cheek, stopping at the corner of his
generous lower lip.  He turned his head slightly, kissing her
fingertip.  

"You're distracting me, woman," he joked, willfully keeping his
hands on the steering wheel and his eyes on the road.

"I can't imagine how," she said coyly, lowering her hand to her
stomach.  "Oooff!" 

"Baby kicking?" he asked, glancing over at her quickly.

"Just a little," she replied, fondly rubbing her belly.

"Our first OB appointment togeth--"

Mulder stopped midsentence, spooked by the bright lights flashing
into the rear window of the car.  The highway was otherwise deserted
this late on a Sunday night and a single vehicle had been following
them for several miles.  He'd ignored the sedan thus far--now it was
too close for comfort and undeniably tailing them closely.

"Mulder?" Scully asked as he accelerated the car, rapidly
approaching eighty-five m.p.h.  

"Hold on, Scully.  Hold on tight!" he exclaimed.

Mulder's white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel didn't slacken as
he attempted to outrun their pursuer.  He finally spotted an exit to
his right, swinging unhesitatingly off the road and navigating two
sharp curves at high speed.  They were in an affluent neighborhood
close to DC, one with lots of winding streets and cul-de-sacs.

Scully had clung to the seat cushions on their wild ride from
expressway to city streets.  She felt like the breath had been
knocked out of her temporarily; she  inhaled deeply, taking in
precious air.  She unclenched her hands, moving them to cradle her
belly protectively.

Mulder hadn't slowed down much, zipping down the unfamiliar roads,
purposefully getting them lost in the maze of upper middle class
homes.  He finally tore his gaze away from the rear view mirror to
check on Scully, decelerating the car gradually through the quiet
well-kept streets.

"Are you okay?" he asked roughly, slightly winded by his frantic
efforts to elude their chaser.

"Fine.  I'm fine, Mulder," she replied in a reedy voice.

He uncurled his right hand from the wheel, reaching over to cover
her smaller ones as they sheltered their child from harm.

"I'm sorry... sorry, Scully.  I didn't have much warning.  I'd
noticed him before but didn't perceive him as a threat.  Are you sure
you're okay?" he asked again, his heart rate decreasing with every
minute they cruised the silent streets of suburbia.

She shook her head from side to side, and moved one of her hands to
grip his own.  "I'm okay.  Just a little out of breath for a minute,
but I'm fine now.  Do you know where we are?"

Mulder peered out the window at a nearby street sign.  "I don't know
and I don't feel too comfortable about approaching one of these homes
at night.  Let's drive around and see if we hit something 
commercial."

They seemed to be out of imminent danger, so Scully tried to relax
in her seat.  Her pulse was still racing, much to her dismay.  Mulder
had removed his hand from her stomach and gone back to driving two-
handed, leaning forward against the wheel and reading every street
sign they approached.

Her hands started to tremble, a delayed reaction to the terror she'd
felt as they'd eluded the mystery car.  She wove the fingers of one
hand into the other, steadying them, concentrating on slowing her
respirations and getting complete control of her shuddering body. 
Mulder hadn't noticed how shaken she was by the experience and that's
how she wanted it to remain.

"Here we go, we're in Greenbelt, Maryland.  There's a sign back to
295.  Do you want to stop at a gas station first, Scully?" he asked,
pulling over to a curb away from traffic.  

"Sure.  Fine," she answered, a little uncertainly.

Mulder heard the quaver in her voice, so he twisted the ignition
key, killing the engine.  Scully wouldn't look at him; her eyes
stared at the dashboard indifferently.  She was bottling up all her
emotions so she wouldn't have to deal with them right away.  

His newly recovered memories, plus what he knew of her from their
week together thus far had heightened his senses, made her easier to
read.  He unbuckled his seatbelt, then leaned over and did the same
for her.  She remained motionless, the digits of her hands tightly
interwoven.

"I'm sorry," she cried, as he moved closer to her, enveloping her in
his arms.

"Don't be sorry, Scully.  I was really scared, too.  My hand is
shaking... see?"

He placed one hand against her cheek and she could feel his
fingertips quiver, as hers had when she descended from her adrenalin
high.  She unhooked her hands from one another, bringing one to her
face to still the tremor coursing through his fingers.

"Do you think it was Them?" she asked softly, pressing his palm
against her own.

"I don't know how they found us... it couldn't be anyone else. 
Maybe someone has an eye on your mom's house."  

Mulder was profoundly disturbed by the thought; surveillance of Mrs.
Scully by the Consortium was certainly unwelcome at this point.  They
expected peril to themselves, especially when they returned to DC--
but not anticipating risk to other family members was foolish, almost
unforgivable.  

He didn't want to upset Scully further, but he knew she'd want him
to be straight with her.  He dropped their hands between them and
leaned back a little so he could address her directly, "We have to
ask Skinner for protection for your family, Scully.  We can take
precautions for ourselves, that's part of our job.  I know you don't
trust Skinner completely, but I don't think we have any secrets to
conceal from him at present."

Scully brushed moisture away from her eyes--tears she'd resisted,
but couldn't halt entirely.  She blinked her eyes several times, then
answered, "I'm sure we can tell him what Krycek told us.  In fact, he
probably knows already.  He's waiting for us to come to him.  He's a
good man, but Krycek still has him cornered."

Mulder threaded his hand through her hair, tidying errant strands
their high speed chase had liberated.  "I agree.  He's still in a
vulnerable position.  But we don't have to lie to him about the
amnesia anymore.  That's a plus.  I think we should go see him after
your appointment tomorrow.  I'm sure he'll be surprised to see us
back so soon... but then again, maybe he won't if Krycek filled him
in on the Consortium threat."

"Mulder?" she asked, reaching for his hand once again.

"Yes?" he responded, leaning over to kiss her forehead.  He moved
his hips closer to hers and wound one arm around her shoulder.

Scully leaned her head against his chest and spoke softly, "You're
different, Mulder. You didn't only retrieve memories yesterday; you
got part of yourself back.  You seem so much more confident, with me,
with my family.  Can you feel it?"

Mulder rubbed his cheek against her hair gently, then leaned over to
caress her lips with one soft, slow kiss.  He drew back so he could
speak to her, "I feel better.  I'm relieved to remember last year,
but not anxious to land in the hospital every time my body decides
it's time for more reminiscing.  We'll have to stop by a neurologist
and get some medication, like you said."

Scully grinned at him, and his expression changed from serious to
curious.

"What?" he asked, his eyebrows raised in query.

"I never told you about the neurologist.  You must be reading my
mind," she said lightly.

"Oh, you think I'm telepathic, Ms. Scully?  Well, I'm pretty damn
sure what you're thinking about now--" 

"How much I'd like to go home?" she answered wearily.

"Bingo!  The lady wins a prize!" he said enthusiastically.  

He carefully moved away from her, placing her hand back on the
gentle slope of her stomach.  Once he was behind the wheel again, he
reached over and stroked his thumb over her lips one more time.  She
caught his hand before he could reach for the ignition and brought it
back to her mouth, placing kisses on each of his fingers.

"It's so good to have you home, Mulder."

He nodded in assent, reluctantly pulling his hand away.  "It's good
to be home, Scully."

*********************************************************************
******
February 26nd, 2001
Monday
2:00 a.m.

"No.  No, no.  Don't.  Don't.  Not now."

Mulder woke to Scully's muffled whimpering beside him, shifting from
his back to his side so he could rouse her as gently as possible.  He
wound his right arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to his
chest.  His left hand sought out her smaller one, enveloping it
protectively, bracing for any sudden move on her part. 

He spoke softly in her ear, "Scully, wake up.  It's only a dream. 
Scully, please wake up."

She continued to sob in her sleep, repeating the same few words in
anguished supplication.  Her body felt too cold to Mulder--whatever
she was dreaming was affecting her physiology as well as her mind. 
He continued to plead with her but she was wholly unresponsive.

"Scully?  Scully?  Come on, honey.  Wake up!" he begged, louder than
before.

Frustrated with his unsuccessful efforts to bring her around, he sat
up beside her, then pulled her to an upright position between his
legs.  He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, trying to stimulate
blood circulation as he entreated, "Dana, you have to wake up. 
Please, please, wake up!"

Mulder shifted her again, positioning her across his lap.  Her eyes
fluttered rapidly under their lids, then opened wide, finally
beginning to respond to his pleas.  He was relieved for half a second
until he realized she was disoriented and upset, still caught in her
nightmare.  

"Go away!  Take your hands off me!" she shouted, struggling against
the firm grip on her arms.

"Scully!  It's me!  It's Mulder!" he yelled back, desperately trying
to restrain her.  

Whatever was gripping her consciousness like a vise released her
suddenly--her eyes focused on her surroundings for the first time
since she'd opened them.  

"Mulder?" she said, scanning his troubled expression for answers. 

His concern diminished rapidly, and a relieved smile spread across
his face.  Cold sweat was dripping down his forehead and his hands
trembled slightly as he encircled her waist, pulling her against his
chest.  She was too shocked to resist--her mind processing the
situation as coherently as possible.

"Oh, God, Scully.  You wouldn't wake up.  You wouldn't wake up," he
murmured against her shoulder.  

He inhaled deeply and tried to relax; he was finally free from
distress now she was fully awake.  He breathed in her distinctive
scent--she smelled heavenly--the light dusting of baby powder after
her shower was still in evidence.

Scully was quiet, evaluating her shaky limbs and rapid heartbeat
with an alert, practiced eye.  She must have really scared him--his
body was quivering against hers, echoing her own unsteadiness.  She
leaned heavily against him, allowing herself the time to regain full
consciousness and full composure.

"It's never happened like this before, Scully.  I mean, I don't
know... I'm still missing all our time before last year, before we
became lovers.  But I remember last year, and I don't remember you
having nightmares this bad.  Not that I can't wake you from," he
stammered.  "God, I must sound like a blithering idiot, Scully."

"No, no.  You don't," she replied solemnly.  "I had some really bad
dreams while you were gone.  I'm surprised it took almost a week for
one to recur.  I should have warned you but I guess I was too
embarrassed to mention it."

"Have people tried to wake you before?"  He moved her gently as he
spoke, seeking out her watery eyes.

A blush was hidden beneath her flushed, tear-streaked face.  "Yes. 
My mom, twice.  The guys, once.  I fell asleep at their place and I
really scared them one night.  I should have warned you," she
repeated needlessly.

Mulder leaned over and kissed Scully's mouth gently, then allowed
her to shift her body weight between his legs again.  She reclined
there; her back against his chest.  His arms wrapped around her and
he nuzzled her cold, clammy neck, hoping to warm her up by raising
their body temperatures the old-fashioned way.  She seemed to agree,
caressing his bare thighs with long strokes of her slender hands. 
Well-manicured nails caught against his skin at random moments,
raising his blood pressure in a much more pleasant way than a scant
five minutes ago.

"Getting fresh with me already, G-Woman?" he teased.

She chuckled softly, then leaned her head back against his chest so
their mouths could meet again--with more heat, more longevity, than
their previous kiss.  Another one followed, and soon both of them
were breathless, parting only to replenish the oxygen in their lungs.
Scully ran her hand over Mulder's cheek before reluctantly scooting
toward the side of the bed.

"Nature calls, Mulder.  I'm *such* a pregnant lady," she said,
imitating the New York accent of an old lady she'd met in a deli just
a few weeks ago.  

Like most older women she'd come in contact with for over five
minutes time the last few months, the sweet and kind matron had
inquired when she was due, and then told her about her grandchildren.
She hadn't patted her tummy--to Scully's great relief.  By the end of
their conversation though, Scully realized she wouldn't have minded--
the woman reminded her of her Irish grandmother.  

She wished her grandparents were still alive at the time of that
conversation but now knew she'd been granted a much greater gift from
whoever was doling out wishes these days--Mulder was back--to share
these last few months of pregnancy with her, to make love to her, to
care for her.  The bad dreams might continue, might even worsen
before she gave birth, but she knew in her heart everything would
turn out well.

Scully leaned over to kiss his smiling face.  He was clearly amused
by her impersonation, but seemed more than willing to wait for an
explanation.

"I'll hurry back," she promised, returning his smile.

"Not going anywhere," he responded in a velvet tone, sliding
seductively against the pillows at the head of the bed.      

She licked her lips once, then hurried off to the bathroom, eager to
return as soon as possible to those sultry bedroom eyes.
 
fin


Almost Home (19/?)
By Shoshana

February 26nd, 2001
Monday
9:00 a.m.
Office of Dr. Myers

"Mulder, stop fidgeting!  You're driving me nuts," Scully scolded.

If anyone had the right to squirm at that moment it was Dana Scully,
not Fox Mulder.  Her bladder was 'optimally filled,' just as the
doctor had ordered.  'Optimally filled' so her bladder would move the
gas in the intestines out of the way of the ultrasound beam.  

As a doctor, Scully knew all the science behind every test she'd
gone through over the last six months.  That didn't mean she had to
enjoy them, particularly when the doctor was running twenty minutes
late and she hadn't visited a bathroom for an hour and half.  Mulder
refused to sit still in the waiting room, discarding one magazine
after another.  He was driving her crazy.  He also had the nerve to
excuse himself to use the bathroom twice.  

Scully knew it was irrational to expect him to adhere to the same
regimen she had to as a pregnant woman, particularly when it
pertained to diet or exercise.  Or not peeing before the ultrasound
examination.  She hadn't told him why she hadn't made her usual twice
an hour pilgrimage to the rest room.  He hadn't seem to notice, so
she just assumed he knew why.  

He probably was too distracted to remember anything she'd told him
in the last twenty-four hours about the test.  He was clearly more
nervous than she was about this doctor's appointment.  It was there
first one together and she was delighted to have him beside her.  She
just wished he'd settle down in his seat for longer than five 
minutes.

"Sorry," Mulder apologized, uncrossing his legs and bracing his
knees with his hands.  

Mulder threw her an tentative half-smile, and she pursed her lips,
trying not to laugh at his endearing restlessness.  His episode in
the hospital over the weekend and subsequent retrieval of assorted
memories from the previous year had increased his solicitude toward
her, if that were even possible.  He'd been so attentive to her over
the last week she'd sometimes felt like telling him it wasn't
necessary to constantly help her with the most fundamental of
movements. 

Scully didn't protest at first because she found herself
appreciating his overprotectiveness for the first time in their eight
year relationship.  She'd craved his company so much, for so long--it
seemed silly to complain.  She also had to take into account his
amnesia; he could be trying to compensate for not remembering their
life together.  

However, even after he'd regained enough memories from the last year
to feel confident of people, places and things he should know, their
encounter with a mysterious car on the highway Sunday night had
spooked them both.  Her nightmare this morning hadn't helped either. 
He'd had such a difficult time waking her, but he hadn't pressed her
for details of her dream.  He'd simply told her they needed to see
Skinner as soon as possible, elaborating no further.

"I talked to the neurologist's office this morning, Mulder," she
offered, trying to divert his attention from the long wait.

"Do I have an appointment already? he groaned mildly.  He'd seen
enough medical personnel on his own behalf over the weekend, and was
only glad to be in a doctor's office because Scully was the patient.

"Yes... it's a friend from medical school.  It won't take very long.
I had your records faxed over from Westerly hospital to Alexandria
hospital where coincidentally he practices.  All those tests we did
last week can be compared to your latest ones," she informed him.

"And Skinner?" he asked.

Mulder's eyes reflected genuine anxiety for her continued safety. 
He didn't know whether they'd be lucky enough to elude pursuit next
time they were chased down a dark highway at night.  Skinner was the
only person who could authorize personal protection for them at this
time, and they'd agreed it might be necessary not only for
themselves, but also their extended family.

"One p.m., his office," Scully responded.

She took his hand in hers and added, "We don't have to tell him
everything, Mulder.  Just about the car on Sunday night.  It's not
even necessary to mention Krycek's name.  We're justified in asking
for his help."

"I know, I know.  I'm the one who was so insistent about seeing
him."  He raised his hand to her lips gently, preventing her response
until he could finish.  "The more time I have to think this morning,
the more misgivings I have--but I do want to see him, and I do want
to protect your family."

"Mom can stay with Bill and Tara for awhile, Mulder.  They're on a
secure naval base.  I don't want to scare her though.  We have so
little information to go on at this point.  Have you talked to the
guys yet?"

"No, I forgot to call and tell them about our trip to the hospital,
Scully--" he voiced guiltily.

"I did," she told him with a self-satisfied grin.

"That's my Scully," he replied, leaning over to kiss her cheek.  

"We're going over there for dinner tonight."

"So... when were you going to tell me?  You certainly have my day
planner filled, Ms. Scully," he jested.

"I just like to keep you guessing, remember?" she said, smoothing
her hand against his own.

"I do now," he said solemnly.  "I seem to remember more every day
since Saturday.  Words and images come back randomly, then combine to
make sense ten, fifteen minutes later.  Sometimes the whole story
comes back at once, but that's only about certain activities, if you
know what I mean," he leered playfully.

"Mulder!" she said, glancing around the waiting room at the other
patients.

"What?  Scully, no one is listening!  Even if they were, they would
be so confused by our conversation they'd tune it out."  He put his
arm around her, then kneaded her tight shoulder.  "Relax, we're
having an ultrasound."

"Yes, I know we're having one.  I just wish they'd hurry the hell up
in--"

"Dana Scully," the technician yelled to the room at large.

"Yes," she responded enthusiastically, popping out of her chair
faster than she imagined possible at this point in her pregnancy. 
Scully was eager to see her baby's development once again.  Not to
mention her bladder was about to explode.

Mulder followed her into the examining room, then helped her hop up
on the table.  He then leaned against the nearest wall, arms crossed,
patiently watching the two women prepare for the procedure.

"Hi, Dana.  How've you been?" the technician asked while she helped
Scully lift her shirt and roll down her maternity pants.  She then
tucked a large paper drape into the waistband to protect the fabric
from the gel.

"Great, just great, Amy.  I haven't seen you since my
amniocentesis...  Amy, this is Fox Mulder.  He's the baby's father."

Scully beckoned him to her side while continuing to speak to the
technician, "Amy, you know I'm a physician so you gave me an
abbreviated explanation last time I was here.  You can give Mulder
the grand tour, so to speak, if you like."

Amy chuckled as she warmed the gel between her hands.  "It's nice to
meet you Mulder.  You'll have to excuse me from a handshake for now."

"Quite all right. Amy.  Why did you have to have an ultrasound
during your amniocentesis, Scully?"

"They monitor the insertion of the needle to gather amniotic fluid. 
It only took about thirty seconds, and I barely felt it.  I could see
the baby move on the monitor after the doctor withdrew the needle,
but I was so nervous about the results of the test I couldn't fully
enjoy it.  I did get a nice photo to take home with me.  I was too
embarrassed to tell you I'd lost it in my apartment," she replied
sheepishly. 

Scully squeezed the hand Mulder had offered her seconds earlier. 
This time was easier on her; she was confident the baby was healthy
after seeing the amnio results at sixteen weeks.  He smiled at her
and moved his other hand behind her neck, gently massaging there.

"It doesn't matter now, Scully.  I'm sure this will be just as
exciting," he assured her.

Scully shuddered involuntarily as Amy placed a puddle of gel in the
middle of the lower abdomen, about halfway between her navel and her
pubic bone.  There was no way to completely warm the substance in the
few minutes they had, but Amy had certainly done her best.  She used
the transducer to spread the gel over Scully's belly, from top to
bottom. 

The room fell silent as the image danced across the monitor.  Mulder
and Scully watched the blurry picture in awe, searching for
recognizable body parts.

"Look!" Amy pointed out finally, as the baby's position changed
slightly.  "He's waving to you."

The baby wasn't actually moving, but he did have his hand and arm
extended, a pose very similar to one stop-action frame of a movie.  

"Wow," was all Mulder could manage.

"Wow is right," Scully responded, smiling at Mulder's astonishment.

Amy grinned at both parents.  It never ceased to amaze her how
predictable people were.  No matter how well-educated or articulate
they were before the exam--they seemed to lose the power of speech at
the first sight of their developing child.  'Wow' was definitely in
their vocabulary, along with other common phrases such as 'Oh, God'
and 'Look at that.'

She'd been curious about Dana Scully's situation, aware only that
the child's father was also an FBI agent because she'd looked over
new medical information added to her file.  She could only imagine
what Dana had been going through--not knowing where he was, what
assignment he was on.  He'd probably done undercover work, just like
on those Discovery Channel shows.  That was how Amy explained his
absence in her own mind; she could never imagine this attentive,
gentle man missing the first months of his child's life for any other
conceivable reason.

"Okay, I'm going to print out a few copies of that frame.  Dr. Myers
should be in any minute.  I know you requested this ultrasound, Dana,
and so far I see no problems of any kind in fetal development.  I'll
let you ask the doctor any further questions you may have.  Don't
move an inch!" Amy warned goodnaturedly.

Amy left the two agents alone, gazing at the frozen image on the
screen.  Mulder stepped back from Scully a little and asked, "You
requested the ultrasound?"

"Yeah.  She concurred with my request, Mulder.  I was worried about
the size of the baby and... my size.  There's no harm done.  I was
going to have one done at eight months also, but I don't think we'll
need to.  I'm no obstetrician, but I'm pretty happy with the baby's
physical development.  I think Dr. Myers will be too."

Mulder smiled and leaned down to kiss her cheek.  "Serves you right
for getting knocked up by a tall guy like me."

"Mulder!  You're impossible," she scolded. 

Dr. Myers opened the door to the room just as Mulder was moving from
cheek to lips for another kiss.  He pulled away quickly, startled by
her entrance.  One glance at Scully informed him of the close
relationship that had developed between the two physicians, no doubt
because Dr. Myers was noticeably pregnant herself.  Not as much as
Scully, but enough to show.

"Hey there, how are you doing, Dana?" asked Ashley Myers as she
moved the wand over Scully's belly.

Ashley was a brunette with Mediterranean features, a couple of
inches taller than Scully.  Her long hair was pulled up in a bun, and
her green eyes twinkled as she paid close attention to the image on
the monitor.

"Fine.  Just fine.  This is Fox Mulder, Ashley.  Mulder, this is
Ashley Myers.  We went to medical school together," Scully told him,
smiling broadly.

"You did, huh?  Why didn't you tell me?" he said, feeling slightly
out of the loop.

"Probably so she can say 'Gotcha!' when you head back home," joked
Ashley before Scully could reply.  "She was always pulling crap on
us, weren't you, Dana?" she added, grinning at her friend.

"*You* were the class clown?" Mulder asked incredulously.

"No, Ashley was.  I just tried to keep up with her," Scully 
responded.

"No, no.  I was trying to keep up with you, Dana.  But we'll never
see the end of this argument, will we?  Now, I wish I could be more
chatty today, but I'm very behind schedule.  I don't see a thing
wrong here, Dana.  Everything looks really good.  You don't want
another one at eight months, do you?"

"No, I don't think so.  I don't see the need for it now.  I think
we'll just go with whatever you think is best for the rest of the
pregnancy," Scully replied.

"Okay, sounds good.  I don't have to see you for another month. 
Keep alert for Braxton-Hicks contractions, however mild they are.  I
also want you to keep a diary of any unusual bouts with heartburn,
leg cramps, or faintness.  I know you're familiar with all the other
symptoms of late pregnancy, but those are the ones I'm most concerned
with, other than the contractions.  We'll give you something for all
those things if you they're too severe.  Won't we, Mulder?" she said,
surprising them both by addressing Mulder singly.

"Ashley!  Are you suggesting I'm a difficult patient who won't take
her meds?" Scully teased back.

"Yes, I certainly am.  One of the worst in my experience, and I can
see by the look on Mulder's face he agrees with me," she added.

Scully shot Mulder a mock glare.  "There's only one person who could
surpass me in crankiness, and you're looking at him, Ashley."

Mulder let out an indignant little huff, then replied, "I'll remind
you of this conversation when you're pleading for your epidural,
Scully."

Ashley laughed gleefully, delighted her friend had finally met her
match, in more ways than one.  They hadn't had very much time to
catch up with one another until lately, when Dana started coming to
her for her pregnancy.  She was happy to see Dana Scully was a
changed woman since her last visit; her smile was genuine, her eyes
sparkled with life, not worry and dimmed hopes.  The return of
Mulder, from wherever he'd been, was a joyous one for Ashley if it
made her old friend feel this great.

"I'm glad you two get along so well," she remarked dryly.  Ashley
extended her hand to Mulder across the examining table over Scully's
still-exposed tummy.  "Hope to see both of you next month, I gotta
run!"

Ashley squeezed Scully's right hand affectionately, before sending
both of them one last smile and rushing out the door. 

Mulder and Scully turned to one another immediately, both
suppressing laughter.  They both succumbed at the same time, as Amy
came walking in to help clean up Scully's slick tummy.

"Hey, I'm glad you're doing so well," Amy told Scully as she wiped
up the excess gel from her stomach.  "Those sonogram prints are
waiting for you when you check out, Dana."

"Thanks, Amy.  Thanks for everything," Scully said, hoping to convey
her deep regard for her.  The whole office had been so supportive of
her while Mulder was still missing.  She wouldn't have expected
anything less of her friend Ashley and the people she employed.

Scully adjusted her waistband and pulled her shirt back down with a
little help from Amy.  Mulder stood ready to help her off the high
table, and they left the room for the receptionist's desk.

"Wait here," she ordered Mulder, ducking into the nearest bathroom.

Mulder nonchalantly leaned beside the door, chuckling to himself. 
He had a hard time envisioning his Scully as a prankster in college,
much less graduate school.  Then again, he'd been more wild in his
undergraduate years than he was willing to admit to most of his FBI
friends.  

Phoebe had been the only person from those days to visit him at
work.  Thank God she didn't spill everything to Scully, he thought to
himself.  At least, he hoped she hadn't.  He still had no memory from
that year of his life and no warning when he'd have another episode
like the one the previous weekend.

Scully emerged from the washroom and Mulder wasted no time asking
her what was now plaguing his mind, "When's my neurologist
appointment?"

"Three o'clock, more or less.  My friend's on duty tonight at
Alexandria hospital.  We'll go over and wait until he has a few
minutes.  He promised to review your records before his shift, and I
believe him.  He's a real nice guy.  You'll like him."

Mulder smiled as they walked down the hall toward the receptionist. 
"In other words, he's an ex-boyfriend, don't be jealous of him."

"Hardly.  He's married to Ashley.  We were all in school together,
smart ass.  I'm not even going to remind you who I was seeing at the
time.  I think you remember... Oh, God, Mulder, I'm sorry.  What if
you don't remember?" she said, stricken by her faux pas.

Mulder stopped her from walking any further and put his arms around
her.  He kissed the top of her head and told her softly, "You already
told me about Daniel, Scully.  And I *do* remember the night we sat
and talked and you told me all about him.  It's coming back to me
slowly, at least the last year or so."  

"Do you remember what happened after I fell asleep on the couch?"
she asked, looking up at him beseechingly.

"Yes.  Yes, I do, Scully.  And I'm not likely to forget for the rest
of my life," he whispered, smoothing a stray hair behind her ear.

"Me neither," she responded.  Scully reached up and caressed his
cheek lightly, her thumb grazing the outside of his lips.  "I think
it's time we go visit our old office.  What do you think of that 
idea?"

Mulder turned his head slightly, kissing her palm as it rested
against his cheek.  "I think it's a good one.  A great one, actually.
I'd like to see if you've redecorated," he said lightly.

Scully groaned with humor, "No, Mulder.  Every scrap of paper has
been left in its disorganized place!  Except for the ones I added to
the mess.  Come on, G-man, it's time to go back to work."

fin


Almost Home (20/?)
By Shoshana

February 26nd, 2001
Monday
11:00 a.m.
FBI Headquarters

"Sure you're ready?  We can go somewhere else until our meeting with
Skinner."

Scully reached across the car seat for Mulder's hand, initiating a
playful war between their thumbs as she waited for a response. 

"No.  I want to go in.  I just needed a minute to collect myself. 
How about you?  Didn't you want to go somewhere for lunch, Scully?"
he asked.  

Mulder knew he should have suggested a bite to eat before but his
thoughts had been focussed on what lie beyond the elevator doors of
the Hoover building.  

"How about the cafeteria?" she asked with a devilish grin.

"You want to make a grand entrance or something, Scully?  Alien
hunter Spooky Mulder returns to FBI headquarters accompanied by his
very pregnant consort Dr. Dana Scully?" he joked. 

Scully looked over at him affectionately and rubbed her thumb over
his chilly palm.  "Sure.  I've been biting my tongue every time I've
heard snippets of conversation about us for five long months.  I've
had to endure stares, people clamming up whenever I enter the room,
and stupid, ill-mannered questions from support staff who don't have
a clue what our work is all about.  Yes, I'd like to make a grand
entrance.  I've had it with all the rumors, Mulder.  I want to show
everyone you had no intention of abandoning me, our child, or the X-
Files to fly off in a spaceship." 

There was a  trace of venom in her words, contempt for all the
morons who'd come out of the woodwork since Mulder had disappeared
last September.  Every trip to the bathroom, and she'd had to make
plenty of them since the beginning of her pregnancy, became a test of
her self-restraint.  Since November, women in the Hoover building had
freely commented on her condition while Scully used the facilities.  

Most had the good sense to shut up when she would exit her stall and
step over to the basin to wash her hands.  A few would apologize for
their thoughtless words.  Some would ask her how she was feeling, ask
her if there was any word about Agent Mulder.  Overall, they were
remorseful and Scully never encountered the same discourtesy twice.  

However, there were thousands of employees in the building and it
never failed to happen on one of her more miserable days, coinciding
with some uncontrollable, quite natural surge of hormones through her
body.  Those days she would wait until the gossip mongers had cleared
the restroom, then taken the stairs in lieu of the elevator--just to
get away from it all.

Mulder sensed the bitterness behind her levity and responded,
"Scully, we don't have to prove anything to these idiots.  I'm sorry
I treated the situation so lightly... I didn't realize--"

Scully shook her head and interrupted him, "It's okay, Mulder.  I
don't resent these people; it's human nature to gossip.  I just... I
just would like to act like ordinary people for once, even if means
risking our partnership."

"There's no chance of that, Scully.  Skinner would have said
something last Monday.  There's no reason to split us up; there are
other married agents.  They don't supervise each other, and I could
make a very good case why I don't supervise you anymore.  Especially
since you managed the X-Files while I was gone," he reminded her.

Scully smiled at his optimism, but remained doubtful.  She decided
to keep it to herself; there was no point in arguing about their
partner status.  What will be will be, she thought.  If the
bureaucrats decided to separate them as an FBI team, they would still
be together as a couple.  Their love for one another and their child
bonded them forever.

"Still want to eat upstairs?" he inquired.  Mulder smoothed down the
collar of her coat in the back, then twined his fingers through her
rapidly growing hair.  He never wanted her to have short hair again. 
Ever.

"Bring me something?  After all, I have a lot of paperwork to catch
up on in the office," she openly fibbed.

Mulder leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek, "Yeah, I
think I can swing that.  And Scully?"

"Yeah?" 

"We are going to act like ordinary people.  We're going to get
married and we're going to move and we're going to have a baby.  I
don't want to miss out on any more events in our life, even the minor
ones--like running out for ice cream at two o'clock in the morning
or..."  He gave her slender hand a caress with his lips, then
continued, "Or dashing off to the Bureau mess hall to get you lunch."

"You think you'll be able to handle it if you can't remember
someone?" she fretted.

"Sure.  I don't see why not.  I'm not always Mister Personality
around here anyway.  I remember last year and I don't recall being
too chummy with anyone other than the lab staff.  Seems to be me
we've already alienated everyone else, possibly as far back as
Antarctica.  Don't ask me for details of the OPR meeting though, I
only know what I read in my journal.  That's one reason I'd like to
spend some time in the office--let's take some files home with us.  I
want to review some of the cases dealing with the alien virus."

"That's exactly what I was going to suggest, Mulder.  I'm going to
be home a lot for the next few months.  I haven't had this much time
to study chemical analyses of what we've discovered for years.  Not
to mention the need to study our own blood--" she added a little
anxiously.

"I know," he interrupted.  "I didn't want to ask you to do this,
Scully, but no one else can.  We can't trust anyone else with the
information.  I don't want to take Krycek's warning seriously, but
I'm afraid we're going to have to.  We don't know who followed us on
the highway last night... or why.  I'd like to find out though."

"I think we have to use the lab when no one's around, Mulder.  I've
done it before, and I can do it again.  You don't have to worry about
asking me to do anything--it helps to work.  It takes my mind off
other things..."  Her voice trailed off at the end as she studied her
hands, clasped loosely in her lap.

Mulder lifted her chin with his forefinger and looked into her eyes.
"Hey, nothing's going to happen to you or the baby, Scully.  I
promise."  He leaned over for one chaste kiss, then told her, "Come
on, let's get going.  It will be one o'clock before you know it and
I'm looking forward to seeing Skinner again.  This time I won't be at
a disadvantage; I think he knew something was wrong last Monday but
was too polite to bring it up.  Maybe we ought to give him a chance
to ask me a few questions before we tell him about the memory loss."

"You think he already knows?" she asked.

"Yes, I do.  But it's just a hunch, Scully."

Scully gave a mild groan, accompanied by a grin.

"I know, I know.  But how many of my hunches have turned out to be
valid theories... tell me that?"

"Oh, once in a while..." she waffled.

"Scully... I may only remember last year, but I can name ten cases
off the top of my head when my first impressions proved to be true. 
You're just being difficult, aren't you?"

She smiled at him indulgently and responded, "I'm hungry, Mulder."

"Argh, woman," he growled affectionately.  "You never cut me a
break."  He leaned over and kissed her on the nose.  "Let's face the
music, sweetheart."

Scully laughed and popped her car door open.  Mulder did the same on
his side of the sedan, rushing around to help her climb out
gracefully.  They were soon in the elevator descending to the 
basement.

No one was in the car when they got on; not many people used the
lower floor for anything but office supplies and major copying
duties.  Scully got out her keyring and opened the door which still
boasted Mulder's nameplate.  He smiled at the addition of a second
one below, Agent Dana Scully, M.D.  How had he neglected to get her
one before?  

The office smelled musty from being closed up for the last few
weeks.  Scully doubted anyone but the cleaning crew had been in here
lately.  Her temporary partner didn't have a key anymore, but Skinner
had access to the office at any time.  She hadn't minded that at all;
if Mulder hadn't returned, he would have been her liaison to
important databases.  

She could still get around pretty well in her sixth month, but she
had a realistic expectation she might be confined to bed the last
month of her pregnancy.  If Mulder hadn't been back by then, she
would have done whatever she could from home to find him.  But he's
home now, she thought to herself.  She smiled to herself, basking in
the joy returned to her life since last Monday night. 

"What's so funny, Scully?" Mulder asked, amused by her Mona Lisa
smile.

Forest-colored eyes searched for any renovations or improvements of
note.  Everything looked pretty much the same, except for the
addition of another desk, crammed into the far corner of their
claustrophobic domain.  The partner's space, he mused.  Thank God
Skinner had found her someone untainted by the Consortium.  Of
course, he thought, there was no assurance her temporary partner was
clean.  He could have been waiting for the right moment to...

"Mulder?"

"Huh?"

"What are *you* thinking about?" she inquired thoughtfully.  "You
seem far away."

"Your partner Charlie.  I was having paranoid thoughts..." he
admitted a bit shamefacedly.

"Oh, don't worry about him.  The guys bugged his apartment the whole
time he worked with me.  He's completely clean," she told him
confidently.

Mulder grinned at her, then wove his arm around her waist.  She
didn't resist, though he knew she would have done so a year ago. 
There had been a hands off policy at work as soon as they'd started
sleeping together.

"Scully, you committed an illegal act!  I'm flabbergasted at your
temerity.  So... find out anything interesting about your temporary
partner?" 

He whispered his last sentence in a voice laden with prurient
interest.  Scully choked out an indignant laugh at his accusation.  

"Mulder!  He's a nice guy!  And no, I didn't listen when he had
women over, you pervert!"  She shuffled her feet a bit and looked
down at the floor shyly, "I left that task to Frohike."

Mulder chuckled at the visual image of his trollish friend, and
whoever else happened to be at the Gunmen's office, listening to
Charlie get some action.

"All in the interest of keeping you safe, of course?" 

"Of course," she replied, finally succumbing to a few giggles.

Mulder took her by the hand and they wove their way around his old
desk.  It had a sprinkling of dust from disuse, but was still pretty
much like he'd left it.  Scully had carved herself a workspace,
leaving his toys and other familiar objects at rest.

"You spent a lot of time down here, Scully?"

"Yeah, I didn't like to leave until eight or nine at night.  It
always made the nights go faster when I had just a few hours to kill
at home.  Or your apartment.  I started staying there more the last
few months."

"For the tub?" he guessed.

"Yeah, for that, and just to be there as much as I could..."  Her
voice wavered as she continued, "I wanted to be near you.  I couldn't
smell you in my apartment anymore..."

Tears brimmed in her eyes, and Scully felt slightly silly.  She'd
resisted crying all day, why now?  Perhaps because they were
absolutely alone now--she could let it all hang out if she wanted.

"Hey, come here," Mulder crooned, pulling her into his arms, then
gently wiping the wetness off her cheeks with his thumb.  "I'm sure I
did the same thing when you were gone.  God knows... I still can't
remember those three months.  Maybe I'm better off not retrieving sad
memories, Scully.  I was pretty terse in my journal entries... with
good reason, I'm sure."

"You know I'm not terribly sentimental, Mulder--but I felt like I
was going over the edge some evenings.  I couldn't talk to my mother
or the guys sometimes.  There were times when I was so alone..."

Scully tightened her arms around his back and leaned her cheek
against his chest.  Mulder shushed her before she could say more,
kissing her forehead several times before telling her, "Come on, why
don't you sit down?  It's getting close to noon and you need to eat
lunch.  I'll run upstairs and get something, okay?"

"Okay," she responded, smiling up at the crooked grin on his face.

She reluctantly moved out of his arms and navigated around piles of
manilla folders on the floor.  She carefully sat down in the
adjustable office chair, her latest bout with its stability fresh in
her mind.  Mulder stepped back to admire her, trying to remember when
she'd usurped his seat last--it must have been shortly before he'd
left for Bellefleur a second time.  He shook off the memory when she
smiled at him, clearing her throat with an understated 'harumph.'

"Chef's salad?  Milk?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Sure.  Extra milk... okay?"

"Okay.  I'll just be a few minutes.  This kind of service doesn't
come cheap, you know."

"What?"  

Her lips curled into a little bow as she realized he was teasing
her.  Mulder walked over to her and kissed her lightly on the lips.

"Payment received," he whispered, before turning to leave.

Scully watched him walk to the door, then turn and glance at her one
more time before locking the door behind him.  He didn't have to do
that, she had her weapon with her--it was *their* office, for
goodness sake!  She appreciated it nonetheless.  It was getting
easier to accept his protection when he gave it without patronizing
words of caution.

Mulder strode over to the elevator doors and punched at the button
beside him.  Ten seconds later, the metal barrier parted and he
collided with a man slightly shorter than himself yet a good thirty
pounds heavier.

"Mulder!  Good to see you!  I just found out you were back!"
exclaimed the paunchy, but pleasant looking brown-haired man.  He
extended his hand in a such a friendly manner Mulder was forced to
reciprocate.

Exasperated by his inability to place this man from his past, Mulder
found it difficult to disguise his bewilderment.  He tried to erase
the confusion from his features, but the stranger had already noted
his befuddlement.

"Hey, Mulder, I know I've gained a lot of weight in the last couple
years, but surely you remember me?  Tom, Tom Colton.  Sorry if I
caught you off guard.  I just heard about you and Dana."

Mulder searched his memory frantically, settling on a case he'd read
about in his journal.  1993.  No wonder he couldn't recognize this
man; they'd worked on the Tooms case together but Mulder hadn't seen
a photograph of him among the ones Scully had shown him last week. 

"Oh, Tom.  Tom, I'm sorry.  You do look different.  You grew a
beard, didn't you?"  Mulder hedged a bet the beard was a new addition
to the man's visage.  "How come you have a Visitor's pass and not an
FBI ID on your lapel?" Mulder asked, attempting to evade scrutiny of
his own faulty memory by focussing on Tom's status as an agent.

"Didn't you hear?  I quit the Bureau about a year and a half ago and
formed a company with a few friends.  Security systems, personal
safety seminars, that kind of stuff.  We're still struggling, but I
think it will work out.  Didn't do much good for my personal fitness
regimen, though," Tom remarked, patting his extra girth.

Mulder grinned, then answered, "It suits you, Tom.  You look happy
to be a civilian.  To tell the truth, Scully and I spend so much time
out of town some months we never hear the latest buzz around the
water cooler.  I guess you were on your way to say hello to Scully,
weren't you?"

"Yeah, I was just visiting a few friends in the bullpen.  Hey!
Congratulations, Mulder!  I mean... I don't mean to be presumptuous--
" he stammered.

"No, no.  It's true.  Scully and I... we're getting married soon,"
he admitted.

"That's great!" he responded, offering Mulder his hand once again.

Mulder grasped his hand firmly, internally praising some unknown
deity for getting him through yet another awkward situation.  

He gestured with his hand toward the office door and said, "Go
ahead, Tom.  I'm on my way to pick up lunch, but I'll be back in ten.
I'm sure Dana would like to see you."

"I'll just be a minute.  Got a client interview at one p.m. but I
wanted to give her my best wishes.  Take care, Mulder.  It's good to
see you made it back... from wherever those *gray* Reticulans had
you," he quipped.

Mulder smiled and replied, "Thanks, Tom.  I don't know if they were
gray or not, but they were definitely Reticulans..." 

Tom grinned back.  "I know you're full of it, Mulder.  No matter
where you were, I'm glad you're back.  I'm glad Dana has you," he
remarked honestly.

"Thanks, Tom," Mulder replied, with equal sincerity.  "*I'm* glad to
be around now.  I'm going to fly before Scully has to wait much
longer for that great cafeteria food.  Take care of yourself," he
concluded, shaking Tom's hand for a third and last time before
running off to summon the elevator.

Thirty minutes later, Mulder felt like he'd just run an obstacle
course.  He managed to pin a frozen smile on his face from the moment
he emerged from the elevator on the second floor.  People waved
cheery hellos, some stopping him in the hallway to shake his hand. 
Spooky had never been so popular among Hoover employees before--
they'd generally avoided him like the plague.

He imagined once the search had been called off for Agent Fox
Mulder, MIA, the news had spread like wildfire.  Scully's pregnancy
was no secret, even though she'd secluded herself in the basement the
last few months.  No one believed the baby could be anyone else's--
she'd never been seen with any other men--at least not in the same
way everyone associated her with Mulder.

Mulder tried to be gracious, but finally had to tell some well-
wishers he was on a tight schedule and move along.  The line moved
swiftly at the cafeteria and he was eternally grateful those in line
to either side of him were total strangers.  If he had to converse
with someone he couldn't remember, Mulder was ready to leave the
building for the nearest McDonald's.

"Special delivery!" he shouted before entering the office.  He
looked around the basement hideaway, trying to spot Scully among the
familiar clutter.  "Scully?" he questioned when he didn't see her
scarlet tresses.

"Here," she voiced from the door.  "Another trip to the john.  So,
what did you think of Tom, Mulder?" she asked lightly.

"Boy, Scully.  That was a close one.  If he hadn't put on so much
weight... I mean I really didn't know who he was... he thought it was
his size, not my recollection of him.  I must not have seen him since
he left the FBI.  It's a good thing I ran into him, though.  It
prepared me for what lay ahead on the second floor.  There were a few
people I had to smile at like some goofy clown; luckily no one
thought it was odd I didn't know them by name." 

Mulder was obviously relieved to be in their out-of-the-way
sanctuary.  He set the bags down on an empty desk and pulled two
chairs over so they could eat on the flat surface.  Scully rummaged
through the food before sitting down, carefully placing her salad and
drink to one side.

"I'm surprised Tom dared to show his face around here after some of
the rumors he's spread in the past, Mulder.  He does seem to be a
changed man.  Since he got married..." 

She caught Mulder's eye as he was sitting down.  He sheepishly
responded, "I hope you don't mind that I told him we were getting
married, Scully.  I couldn't allow him to think--"

"It's fine, Mulder.  I don't mind.  In fact, I think my mother has
come up with March tenth as a possible date.  That okay with you?"
she asked coyly, tilting her head to one side. 

Mulder smiled and scooted his chair closer to her side.  "Yeah, you
know it is."  He took hold of her left hand and fingered the antique
ring she continued to wear.  "You sure tried to chase me away before
I regained my memory, Scully."  

His tone was light, but she knew how aggravated he'd been before
she'd green lighted the nuptials on their way back from Rhode Island.

"Humph," she replied with mock indignation.  "Just another case of
the two of us seeing circumstances through a totally different lens,
Mulder.  I'd never chase you away, but I would make you slow down and
think things out rationally."

He leaned over to kiss her cheek quickly, then agreed, "You always
have, Scully.  I hope you always will."

Mulder turned his attention to the hamburger and fries he'd brought
back for himself, tearing the bag apart and spreading a dozen napkins
across the table to capture the grease.

"You're lucky I'm past the queasy stage or I'd be out of here in a
flash," Scully teased.  She picked at her salad, fishing out the
pieces of cheese and egg with care.

"Did you get morning sickness?  I never thought to ask," he queried
before taking a huge bite of his burger.

"It was bad for a few weeks after I first found out.  It got better.
The dizzy spells went away as soon as I made sure I ate enough
protein.  I guess skipping meals probably contributed to that symptom
more than anything."

"We, I, thought you were sick, Scully.  The night you came to my
motel room... I wish we'd done something then," he reflected 
solemnly.

"We couldn't have known, Mulder," she assured him, running her hand
along his forearm.  

"No, but I wouldn't have left you here if I'd known you were
pregnant, Scully.  You have to believe that.  I don't think anything
would have made me leave you if I'd known.  Even a cloaked spaceship
in Oregon," he responded quietly.

Scully reached over and swiped her finger across his chin, capturing
a stray dollop of ketchup.  "I believe you.  But--" she sighed
pensively.

"Buh wha?" he mumbled around his fries. 

"I don't want you to stop trying to solve problems because of me, or
because of the baby.  That's what we do, Mulder.  It's our job to
save people's lives, and if we have to..."

"We have to look out for ourselves, too.  We've taken enough chances
for humanity, Scully.  I want to see you have a good life.  If that
means cutting back on the X-Files, or if it means finding something
else to do with my life, that's what I'll do."

Scully shook her head, "No, we can't give up on our work, Mulder.  I
agree... there may be less dangerous ways to go about it, but there
will always be pitfalls for us--because of what we know... because of
what we carry in our bloodstream."

She spoke with a tone of resignation which hurt him physically, tore
at his gut.  He wanted to make it crystal clear what his priorities
in life were now he was back home to stay.  Mulder never wanted her
to doubt his devotion, no matter what path they followed in the
coming months.  

"I'm not going to let you get hurt again, Scully," he responded
determinedly.  "Or the baby.  That's the whole reason we're here this
afternoon--to see Skinner... to explain what we think happened to me,
what we know happened the other day.  I don't think anyone else in
the FBI will take us seriously."

"Oh, really?"

The voice behind them startled Mulder and Scully; they reached for
their weapons instinctively and turned around.  

fin


Almost Home (21/?)
By Shoshana

February 26nd, 2001
Monday
12:45 p.m.
FBI Headquarters

"Relax, agents," Skinner chuckled.  "You might want to reconsider
sitting with your back to the door from now on."

Mulder and Scully cringed at his words, painfully aware of their
lapse in security.  The basement office seemed so comfortable; it was
easy to get complacent there.

"Sorry, sir.  In light of why we've asked you to meet with us today--
I feel very foolish letting down my guard," Mulder apologized.

"Please sit down, sir.  We're not late, are we?" Scully said,
checking her watch.  

"No, you're not.  I'd feel better talking to you down here.  I
believe this office was just swept for bugs," he remarked.

"How?" Scully sputtered.  No one was supposed to be using their
office while they were on vacation.

"Frohike, Scully.  I must have told him last week we were going to
use the office today.  How did *you* know, sir?"

"I happened to be in the neighborhood at two o'clock this morning,"
Skinner told them.

"Thanks, sir.  For not busting Frohike, that is.  I gave him
permission, after all," Mulder explained.

"Well, both of you are damn lucky I have a sense of humor," Skinner
replied with a small smile.  "What did you want to see me about,
agents?" he added, getting directly to the point.

"You probably already know about my stay at the hospital over the
weekend.  I imagine Human Resources got a fax from Westerly this
morning."

"Are you all right now?  Will this illness be affecting your fitness
for duty?" Skinner asked.

Mulder looked to Scully for guidance, uncertain how much to reveal.

"We're not sure yet, sir.  We're going to see a neurologist this
afternoon," Scully interjected quickly.

"I'd like a full report as soon as possible.  I didn't expect you to
go back to work right away, Mulder.  But I'd like to know if your
abduction will prevent that eventuality--so, please keep me
informed," Skinner told him.

"I will, sir," Mulder assured.  "My hospital stay isn't the only
thing I wanted to discuss with you, sir.  We drove back to DC with
Scully's mom and brother; we dropped them off at her home in Maryland
Sunday night."

"You drove?" Skinner inquired.

"Yes.  I felt fine by then.  I had plenty of rest in the hospital; I
felt okay.  It's just a short drive down 295 so we should have been
home in less than an hour but we were followed by a single vehicle
for several miles.  I didn't notice them behind us right away and I
managed to lose the tail by speeding up and taking the first exit I
could.  I don't think they caught up with us again," Mulder 
concluded.

"You never got a good look at the car behind you?" Skinner asked.

"No, I took off as fast as I could once I noticed headlights in the
rear view mirror one too many times," Mulder responded.

Skinner heaved a sigh, then relaxed his posture in the straight
chair he'd been sitting in.  He clasped his hands together and looked
from one agent to the other.

"The car following you was one of mine, Mulder.  I'm sorry... I
assigned protection to both you and your relatives as soon as you
returned a week ago.  I should have told you about this but--"

"They were FBI?  Since when do you have agents following us around?"
Scully inquired furiously.  

"Scully..." Mulder whispered, placing his hand over hers as she
seethed over what she perceived to be a violation of trust.

Scully snatched her hand away, resisting his appeal for calm.  She
wondered if Skinner had been protecting her since last September when
Mulder disappeared.  How many other agents knew of their predicament?
She didn't appreciate the infringement upon her privacy this
'protection' implied.

"How long have you had a tail on me, sir?  Since last fall?" she
snapped.

Undaunted by the steely glare accompanying her ire, Skinner plunged
ahead, "No, I haven't been keeping tabs on you since last fall, Agent
Scully.  There've been times I was tempted to--but I knew you had
three friends to do the Bureau's job--"

Scully blushed at this revelation, recalling how attentive the
Gunmen had been until Mulder returned just one week ago.  Their
vigilance must have included surreptitious round-the-clock
surveillance.  She didn't know whether to kiss them or kill them for
looking out for her.  

"Thanks, sir.  At least we know what happened now," Mulder 
placated.  

This was one time Mulder wanted to brownnose the AD, appreciating
Skinner's interest in keeping Scully safe, even if she felt her
privacy was invaded.  He understood her objections to not knowing--he
would have preferred to know himself.  However, he couldn't take
offense at Skinner's efforts; Mulder knew he would have done the same
thing himself.

Scully lifted her eyes from studying the vinyl floor beneath their
feet and added, "Yes, sir.  I'm sorry I lost my temper."  She looked
thoughtful for a moment then continued, "The protection was 
unexpected, but I guess I can't say completely unwarranted 
considering our situation.  You have agents assigned to all my family
members, then?"

"Yes, even the ones overseas, Scully.  They have no idea they are
being watched."

"Did you hear from Krycek, sir?" Mulder asked, anxious to get to
issues surrounding the baby's safety.

"Yes, in a way.  I bugged the bugger, so to speak.  He thought he
was controlling me, agents.  Little did he know."  Skinner gave them
a satisfied smile, and continued, "I have something to show you. 
It's not a pretty picture, and I don't want to upset Agent Scully..."

"I'll be all right.  If you have any worries at all, show it to
Mulder first, sir.  I'm sure he knows my limits by now," she assured.

Skinner reached inside his suit and pulled out a 5 by 7 glossy
photo.  It was black and white, but Mulder recognized the dead men
immediately.  

"You were bugging Krycek's apartment?" Mulder asked.

"Yes.  After he reappeared last fall, I found the right men to do
the job.  I'm sure you're familiar with them, so I won't name names,"
Skinner replied.

"Our friends?" Scully asked anyway.  

She held her hand out, expecting Mulder to hand over the photo, no
matter how gruesome.  She'd probably seen worse and she wasn't going
to be coddled if it concerned Krycek and his involvement with the
Consortium.  Mulder looked over at Skinner with resignation, then
shrugged his shoulders and handed her the piece of paper.  

"Smoking Man?  He wasn't dead?" she gasped when viewing the two
corpses.

"No.  He survived Krycek's assault on him last fall, with the help
of his nurse, but Cancer Man couldn't survive a bullet from our one-
armed friend.  It appears they shot one another during a heated
argument, and by the time I'd  mobilized a team to collect the
bodies, someone had cleaned up the mess.  Apparently, we weren't the
only ones watching Krycek.  Of course, this means we can't be sure
they are both dead--but the photographic evidence is pretty
damning..." he concluded.

Skinner then stood up and said, "That's all I have for you, agents. 
I'd still like to see you take more vacation time.  I think both of
you deserve it.  I'd like to know what the neurologist has to say
also."

"Sir, there's something we haven't told you yet," Scully informed 
him.

Mulder almost spoke, but thought better of it when her eyes begged
him to do otherwise.  He leaned back in his chair, hands interlocked
behind his head.  Memories from the last year and half had flooded
his consciousness the last few days, confirming what he'd already
discovered within minutes of 'meeting' Scully last Monday night--she
could convey so much, so well, with just a glance his way.

Mulder was beginning to feel like his old self--every new
recollection seized and held by electrical activity in his brain.  He
didn't think it would have been possible to recover so rapidly
without Scully's love and patience.  If it had been the other way
around--if she'd been the one to suffer such a devastating loss of
memory--he only hoped he could have given her as much or more tender
loving care. 

"What is it, Scully?"  Skinner asked anxiously.  

Skinner had sensed something different about Mulder last Tuesday
morning; he still wondered what had aroused his suspicions about him
then.  Mulder seemed perfectly normal today; he bore no visible
effects from his physical collapse over the weekend.  Why had he
seemed so distant his first day back?  

Skinner hoped to learn the truth of the matter but would be
summarily disappointed.  Scully had decided to conceal Mulder's
memory loss from their boss as long as possible, and Mulder would no
doubt agree with the wisdom of that choice when she explained her
remarks later.  She was more concerned about enlisting the AD's help
in finding and fighting the Consortium than trying to explain
Mulder's partial amnesia to her wary superior.  

"Krycek approached us last week in a neighborhood park and warned us-
-he told us the baby was unique--there were men interested in him..."
she stammered.

Scully was battling tears as she spoke.  Why was this so hard for
her?  She'd rehearsed this twenty times in her head while waiting for
Mulder to get her lunch.  Dammit, she thought to herself, pull
yourself together.  She lowered her eyes to the floor and blinked her
eyes in frustration.

"Scully?"

Mulder had moved beside her and taken her left hand between his own.
She was embarrassed by the attention, but determined to stave off a
full fledged bout of weeping in front of Skinner.  She reached inside
her jacket and extracted a tissue, then dabbed the wetness from under
her eyes. 

"Finish for me," she choked out finally.

Mulder turned to Skinner and continued, "Krycek seemed to think the
baby's immunity to the alien virus would make it the perfect test
subject.  He told us the Project was not totally disbanded--there
were parties dissociated from the Smoking Man who were aware of
Scully's pregnancy and our medical histories.  He said he was doing
us a good turn.  Naturally we didn't believe him, but--"

"It's plausible someone would be interested in the child, Mulder. 
That's why I've arranged for even more protection now than before you
returned.  I don't know what connection your release has to this
threat but I do take it seriously.  I know you're both capable agents
--I'd feel better if you'd respect my efforts and not try to escape
your protection, as you did the other night," Skinner told them.

"It won't happen again, sir," Scully promised, with a steadier,
stronger voice.  She smiled weakly, and continued, "We appreciate
what you've done in the past."

"All I've done is watch out for two of my best agents, Scully.  I
hope you and Mulder will come up with a solution to the overriding
problem you've been investigating all these years.  I know you can. 
I know you will."

Mulder was surprised to hear Skinner allude to colonization in this
way; he'd clearly become a believer since last autumn.  Not having to
argue this point with their AD would help navigate the rough road
that lie ahead.  At least Skinner didn't think he was looney tunes
anymore. 

"Thank you, sir," he told the AD, nodding his head in acknowledgment
of the older man's confidence in them.  "We'll try our best."

Skinner rose from his chair, evidently satisfied with their meeting.
He grinned briefly at the agents, both waiting for his final word of
the day.  "I know I can't keep you away from this office, but I'd
appreciate it if you conduct your research discreetly.  You're on
maternity leave, Scully, and Mulder, you better get yourself fit for
duty.  Go see that doctor and get a clean bill of health.  Then you
can see about going back to work.  I still think you both ought to
take it easy for another few weeks--"

"We will, sir.  We're not planning on going very far afield.  We
have plenty to do in the interim, though, and I promise you we'll be
careful if we use the FBI lab.  We may not have to go there--I think
I know an alternative," Scully answered thoughtfully.

"Don't hesitate to ask me for assistance, Scully.  I want you both
to know you're not alone in this.  It's far from over, in my opinion.
Take care of yourselves, agents," he concluded, slipping out the door
before either of them could respond.

"Well, that went better than I expected," Mulder told her 
immediately.

"I guess... for you at least," Scully responded, uneasy about her
loss of control in front of Skinner.  

Scully had managed to remain stoic around her supervisor and the
guys for the most part while Mulder was gone.  As her pregnancy
progressed, and Mulder's absence dragged on, she'd excused herself
more than once when in the company of her four protectors.  It was
more difficult to display her emotions in front of them than Mulder--
it always had been. 

She knew she'd return to being a more staid, less demonstrative
person once the baby was born.  It was the way she'd garnered respect
in the past, carefully restraining her reactions when among her peers
in the FBI.  The times she'd lost her temper, lost all that well-
practiced discipline which prevented her from exhibiting how she
truly felt, were always justified in her mind and heart.  

It was close to impossible to avoid displaying her heart on her
sleeve now--less than three months to go, she thought.  The baby will
be born soon and I won't have to worry about hormonal outbursts
anymore.  Then she felt the baby softly kick from within her womb and
she wished for more time to savor their child's growth--especially
now that Mulder was here to share this miraculous experience.

"Scully?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts.  The serene look on
her face vanished when she turned her head.

"Yes?" she asked, as a smile bloomed across her face.

"When's that appointment with the neurologist?"

"Three o'clock.  It'll take thirty minutes to drive over to
Alexandria and it's--"  Scully glanced at her wristwatch quickly,
"close to two now."

"Good.  Just enough time," he told her, crossing the room and
throwing the deadbolt on the door.  Mulder sauntered slowly across
the office, then stood comfortably behind her.

"What do you have in mind, Mulder?" she asked, rolling her head back
against his stomach.  She smiled as he caressed her shoulders,
working out the tension their discussion with Skinner had fostered.

"Scully... please.  It's not what you might think--I have a fantasy
I've always wanted--" he pleaded.

"Mulder," she warned lightheartedly, "I don't think the desk is a
possibility in my condition--"  

She took his hand and gently pulled him around to her side.  He
chuckled softly as he knelt beside her, placing his free hand on the
slope of her belly.

"Scully, what would make you think I ever entertained a fantasy like
that?" he teased back.  He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed
each finger before entwining them with his own.

Scully smiled shyly, then told him, "I bet I can match every one of
your office daydreams with one of my own, Mulder."

"I bet you can--and maybe someday we'll exchange thoughts on that. 
But now--"  

Mulder took both her hands in his own and pulled her to her feet. 
She followed him cautiously as he walked backward, luring her toward
the filing cabinets.  He gleamed triumphantly when they arrived,
dropping her hands and entreating her in a low, gravelly voice, "Open
a drawer, Scully."

"You've lost your mind, Mulder.  *This* is your fantasy?" she
responded incredulously.

"Humor me.  It's harmless fun.  You heard what Skinner said--no
one's watching us--there's no surveillance cameras in our fire
sprinkler heads, no bugging devices at all."

He swept his hand over her arm, touching her lightly on her elbow,
then her wrist, before resting his warm fingers on her hip.  He
gently pushed her closer to the metal structure.

"All right, Mulder.  I'll humor you, but there better not be
anything worthy of a honeymoon video.  This is still the place we
work," she shot back.  

He leaned over and kissed behind her ear, then whispered roughly,
"This is the most innocent of fantasies, Scully.  Not everything is
rated Triple X in my mind."

"Okay, you win... I'm opening the drawer, Mulder," she said, slowly
inching the metal container along its tracks.

"Find a file, any file," he urged.  "Start skimming through the
contents."

Scully turned to give him a dubious look, but obeyed his seemingly
inane request.  She stood before him, his hand on her hip, his lips
caressing the crown of her hair.  He moved closer, slowly soldering
his lower body to her own.  

She felt his body heat, his growing arousal, as he snaked his arms
through her own.  He lowered his mouth to the back of her neck,
kissing her there while he removed the file from her still hands.

She gave it to him willingly, leaning back against the immovable
barrier of his torso.  He dropped the file back in the open drawer,
freeing his hands, moving them along her velvety curves.

His hands grazed lightly beneath her breasts, just enough to make
her wish for more of his gentle touch there.  He continued to rain 
small kisses over her shoulders and neck, never stopping too long in 
any one place.  

Scully felt a little weak, not quite ready to swoon, but strongly
shaken by his quiet, patient seduction.  She turned around slowly in
his arms, then lifted her hands to his face, sweeping his lower lips
with the pads of her thumbs.

Mulder smiled down at her, then imitated her gesture, bringing his
palms to rest on her cheeks.  Her face returned his joyous
expression, silently urging him to diminish the distance between 
them.

Mulder kissed her tenderly, soothing her lips with feathery touches
of his tongue.  She opened her mouth to him and they kissed deeply,
passionately, for several minutes, forgoing respiration as pleasure
diffused through their bodies.

When they finally broke the kiss, Scully placed her hands on his
chest, allowing a little distance between them.  She stroked her hand
from his breastbone to his collarbone, a bemused expression on her
face.

"That's it?  That's your office fantasy, Mulder?" she asked, no
trace of sarcasm in her soft inquiry.  

His lips curved up slowly, eyes darting over her radiant features. 
"Uh, that's the one I've had the most.  As far as I can tell anyway--
from the memories I recovered.  I'm sure I've been having the same
one since the day you walked in the door of this office, Scully.  I
know I thought you were beautiful the first day I met you because I
wrote it down in my journal.  Didn't you ever peek at my first
entry?" he asked seriously.

"No, no.  I, I avoided the first few years when we poked into your
personal diary, Mulder.  I didn't think there would be anything of
value to our search.  I--"  She lifted her hand to his face again and
softly caressed his cheek with her thumb.  "I thought you were
handsome.  I wonder how well I concealed that from you," she said
with a warm smile.

"Pretty damn well according to my first impressions.  I wrote
several weeks later that I was sure you'd leave the X-Files and
settle down with some guy before too long.  I suppose I was wrong,
wasn't I?" he asked, the timbre of his voice expressing doubts even
now, even after all they'd been through.

She clutched his hand possessively.  "Yes, you were, Mulder.  I
remember, I know, I would never have settled for anyone less than
you.  I didn't tell you... I denied it for years... I knew I'd never
leave your side."

He sealed her lips with gentle fingers, then replaced them with the
soft texture of his mouth.  They shared a few more kisses, then
pulled slightly apart, grinning with unspoken happiness.

"Time to face the medical music, Mulder," she told him, brandishing
her wrist in his face.

"Yes, Doctor Scully.  I agree.  Speaking of medical advice... will
you rest tonight?  Please?  I know we have a lot to do here, but by
the time we're done at the hospital--"

"Okay, Mulder.  We'll call it a day, but we're going to call the
guys and find a lab to use tomorrow.  We have to find answers to all
the questions we've posed.  We have to know why there's so much
interest in our immunity, in the baby's immunity, to the virus."

"All in good time, Scully.  All in good time," he whispered as they
crossed the room to leave for his appointment.

Almost Home (22/?)
By Shoshana

February 26th, 2001
Monday
4:00 p.m.
Alexandria Hospital

Mulder popped a pill in his mouth, then leaned over to slurp some
water from the fountain.  He wiped the back of his hand over his
glossy lips, then licked them thoroughly, eyes gleaming with
mischief.  Scully was watching his every move, agape with unconscious
abandon.

"You'll catch a lot of flies like that," he teased.

Scully smiled back and offered him her hand.  They were openly
touching one another in public now; by tacit agreement they hadn't
gone back to their practice before Mulder's abduction--keeping a
polite professonal distance for appearances' sake.  

There really was no point in disguising their relationship anymore--
FBI employees with only a marginal interest in their saga knew about
Scully's pregnancy and Mulder's recent return to DC.  No one assumed
anything, but it was a pretty good guess their colleagues thought
they might be headed for the altar.  Ten or twelve of them had
ambushed Mulder and Scully as they'd strolled casually across the
parking garage an hour and a half ago.

It was less difficult than either of them could have imagined--they
shook everyone's hand and smiled shyly as a group from the bullpen
congratulated them on two counts, the baby, and Mulder's successful
return from wherever the hell the infamous alien hunter had
disappeared this time.  Mulder was well known for getting himself
into impossible predicaments, surviving them by sheer luck, or 
through the intervention of his loyal partner.  Fortunately, the 
friendly agents were on their way to a seminar at Quantico and 
didn't detain the couple longer than necessary.  

When their admirers had left, Mulder and Scully realized they'd been
gripping each other's hands tightly as they chatted it up with the
crowd--something they'd never have risked last year.  Not a word had
been sent down from the upper echelons of the FBI bureaucracy
concerning their partnership, but both agents were well aware the
continuance of the X-Files was by no means a sure thing.  There was
some cause for worry when they both returned to work, presumably as
newlyweds, but neither Mulder nor Scully wanted to dwell on this
possibility.  They had other dilemmas to focus on; futile worry over
their marital status would only distract them from their own, more
timely, agenda.   

"You think this medicine will work, Scully?" he finally asked when
she offered no retort to his lighthearted comment.  

Her eyes shone with a contentment she'd only embraced in the last
week; his whirlwind return and recovery had shaken her makeshift
universe, the one which had offered her strength to cope through five
months of alternating hope and despair.  She'd depended not only on
her faith in Mulder's uncanny ability to survive disaster, but also
on her renewed belief in a higher power, one which had graced her
body with a child, a sliver of Mulder's soul.      

Scully answered him confidently, "Brian thinks so.  He's a top-level
specialist, Mulder.  He looked over your recent EEGs, CT scans, and
all your bloodwork from both hospitals, and I don't know any one
better qualified to treat you.  I know you had a bad experience with
phenytoin when you were hospitalized a year and a half ago, but that
was a thousand milligrams and Kritschgau was not a physician--"

"I know, I know.  You'll make sure I get my dosage adjusted weekly,
I'm sure," he responded with cautious, but cheerful optimism. 
"Millions of people live with seizures.  I just hope mine aren't
chronic--they should diminish as all my memories return, don't you
think?" 

"There's no guarantee, Mulder.  Medication can control the problem
to some extent, but we'll have to be careful the next few months.  I
guess you're just going to have to allow your personal physician to
accompany you everywhere you go.  Would you like that?"

She playfully swung their joined hands between them as they strode
down the corridor.  He grinned back and said, "*Everywhere*, Scully? 
Even my bachelor party?" 

"You've got to be kidding!" she replied, feigning disgust with the
inevitable ritual.  She'd expected the guys to throw Mulder a bash,
but she didn't have to sanction it, especially if it included
consumption of alcohol.

"The guys... they're insisting.  Sorry, Scully.  No girls allowed."

She shook her head in mock exasperation, suppressing a grin.  She
knew she wasn't fooling Mulder with her disapproving act.  She smiled
in spite of herself and told him, "I'll entrust the three Stooges
with your welfare, Mulder... but you'll have to stay sober if you're
going to take your medication.  I don't want anything to mess with
your recovery."

He nodded his head in agreement.  "Deal, Scully.  I'll let the guys
do the heavy drinking this time."

Any response from Scully was cut off by the trilling of her phone. 
She reached into her coat pocket and flipped it open.  

"Scully," she said solemnly, although her eyes were still smiling 
from Mulder's latest concession to her wishes.

"Oh.  Okay.  We'll be there in twenty minutes, all right?  Thanks,
Byers.  See you soon," she concluded.

She thumbed off the device and replaced it in her jacket.  Mulder
watched her expectantly, his head tilted to one side.

"So?" he asked when he saw her expression lose its levity.

Scully's shoulders slumped with the weight of her newfound 
knowledge.  She didn't want Mulder haring off across country as soon
as she told him the latest news.  Her mouth opened and closed once
or twice before she found the words to articulate Byers' message.

"Teresa Hoese is back.  So is her husband, Billy Miles, and other
abductees from the area.  All of them were returned in the last
twenty-four hours, but the news reports just came over the wire now."

"Are they all right?" Mulder asked.

"For the most part.  They've all refused to be interviewed by the
media, thank God.  They haven't told authorities much.  Billy and Ray
are both law enforcement, but they don't want to talk about their
experiences," she replied.

"I don't blame them.  I don't want to talk about mine."

"I thought they didn't hurt you--" she voiced with concern.

"I don't know for sure what happened to me, Scully.  I started to
remember things last Saturday that I don't want to tell you, maybe
I'll never be able to tell you.  I don't want to upset you, Scully--
not, not now.  You understand, don't you?" he asked, sweeping his
hand through her hair until he gently cradled her head.

She moved closer to him, placing both palms on his chest.  "I do. 
I've never told you what happened to me.  I don't remember much, you
know... I don't think I want to remember.  I may have entertained the
thought of retrieving those memories through hypnosis at one time--"

Mulder leaned down and gently kissed her forehead, then pulled back
and said quietly, "You do understand."

Scully gave him a glimpse of a smile, then moved her hands to his
waist and responded, "I do."

He grinned at the two simple words, imagining how beautiful they'd
sound in an entirely different context in less than two weeks.  If
they were lucky.  If he didn't get them into hot water before then. 
Mulder wanted to assure her he wasn't going to take the next plane to
Oregon and disappear into the mists of the forest again.

"I'm not going anywhere, Scully.  I'm not leaving you again," he
whispered softly in her ear.

Scully murmured back, "Of course you're not, Mulder."

He kissed her softly on the lips.  "That's my Scully.  Come on,
Frohike will cook for us if we're nice to him."

*********************************************************************
Lone Gunmen's residence
Somewhere near DC
4:45 p.m.
 
"Whaddaya got for us, boys?" Mulder asked, escorting Scully through
the security door and over to the vintage vinyl couch.  

It was dark in the Gunmen's headquarters, more so than usual.  The
guys were all present, ready to show off the fruits of their labor. 
They'd been monitoring satellite news feeds from the television
station near Bellefleur since last September when Mulder had
disappeared. 

"I'm sure Scully told you about the news reports we recorded.  Those
were local news reports--they didn't amount to very much because they
were interrupting afternoon soap operas.  There's a three hour time
difference so the best reports will be at eight o'clock our time. 
Here's what we have so far--I'll run it through the set over there,"
Frohike said, pointing to a fairly large television near a phalanx of
computers.

"Yeah, and it's Langly's fault there's no sound," Byers sniped.

"Is *not*, asshole.  You're the one who left the sound switched
off," Langly protested.

"You're supposed to check it, *moron*, before you tape anything,"
Byers shot back.

"Hey, cut it out!  It doesn't matter, dickheads.  I'll tell them
what's being said.  For God's sake, you two belong in pre-school,"
scolded Frohike.

"Do you read lips, Frohike?" Scully asked.

"Yeah, my grandpa was deaf.  He knew sign language, but when I was a
kid there were no closed captions on TV programs.  He enjoyed showing
me how well he could interpret what was said.  After awhile I could
do it too--we'd kill the volume and take turns being the characters,"
Frohike replied.

"Who took the female roles?" Mulder teased his friend.

Frohike laughed and told him, "We watched an awful lot of Westerns,
Mulder.  I guess I had to be Miss Kitty a few times on 'Gunsmoke,'
but only when my neighborhood pals were absent."

Everyone chuckled, then fell silent when the tape finally rolled. 
The guys knew this was serious business for Mulder and Scully--they
could possibly discover where Mulder had been held for five long
months.

Frohike began his narration, "The news reporters are all shouting
'Where have you been?' and 'Did aliens abduct you?' at Teresa and Ray
as they try to walk up the sidewalk to her parent's home.  Ray just
said 'No comment.  Please leave us alone,' to the camera.  Okay,
that's all... I told you these were brief.  Here's the clip with
Billy--he seems to have a little more patience with the press.  He
says 'There will be a full report on file at the Sheriff's
department.  You'll have to wait until then for details, folks.'"

Billy Miles turned away from the media and escaped inside his house
as reporters continued to shout questions at him.  The video ended
and everyone blinked when Byers turned the lights back on.

"Not much to go on, I know--but at least you know they're all back
and they look reasonably healthy.  We'll tape the evening news for
you and if you like we'll bring it over later tonight," Langly told
Mulder and Scully.

"We'd really appreciate that, Langly.  We're both pretty bushed. 
We've been to two doctors today, plus we had an audience with Skinner
at headquarters," Scully answered.

"Um, did he mention anything, uh, you know--" Frohike stammered.

"Yes, Frohike.  He told us he ran into you last night.  We wouldn't
have had a conversation in our office if you hadn't debugged it for
us.  Thanks for doing it," Scully replied.

"Your wish is my command," Frohike told her, waving his hand in the
air with a flourish.

"Seems to have been my wish, wasn't it?" Mulder countered.

"Oh, Mulder... when will you learn?  Everything is about Scully, not
you," Byers quipped.

Scully's expression reflected both her amusement and embarrassment
at being the center of so much male attention.  They probably would
have gone all out for Mulder if she'd been the party in question--
they most likely already had several years ago when she'd been
missing.  None of them had ever discussed that dark time in their
lives, but she imagined Mulder had turned to the guys for their
expertise years ago.

"And all this time I thought it was me, me, me..." Mulder responded.
He sensed Scully's consternation and attempted to deflect the
spotlight to more pressing matters.  "Have you guys intercepted the
police reports yet?" he inquired hopefully.

"Working on it," said Langly, tapping away at his keyboard.

"You two hungry?" asked Frohike.

"Ah, there, I told you, Scully... Frohike's gonna feed us," Mulder
said, breaking into a broad grin.

"Okay, fifteen minutes and counting.  Make yourself comfortable,
folks," Frohike replied.

In twenty minutes, they were all balancing plates on laps or beside
computer monitors.  Mulder and Scully took the couch, and each of
their friends had some favorite spot around the room.

"How ya feeling, Mulder?  I haven't spoken to you since you asked me
to take care of your office for you," Frohike said.

"I'm much better.  Scully didn't tell me until this morning she'd
gotten in touch with you.  She's been too busy supervising every
detail of my recovery," he said wryly. 

Scully ignored his gentle barb and said, "Mulder went to see a
neurologist today.  There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with 
him--but the episode Saturday night left him with some lasting 
effects."

"Like what?" asked Byers with interest.

"I seem to remember last year, maybe all the way back to the fall of
1999.  It's a jumble... it all comes back randomly, then fits
together after I have time to think about it," Mulder told them.

"That's great!  Both of you must be really happy about that!" Langly
remarked.

Mulder smiled, then reached over and affectionately caressed
Scully's hand.  "It is great.  I remember a lot of good stuff that
happened last year."

Scully averted her eyes as a blush of color swept over her cheeks. 
Even though the Lone Gunmen were truly among her best friends now--
they were still *guys* and she was somewhat abashed at the
implication of Mulder's words.  Despite her fears, not one of the men
adopted an inappropriate leer.  They smiled quietly--the only noise
interrupting their temporary silence was the tap tap of Langly's
fingers across his keyboard.

"The doctor give you anything to prevent more medical problems?"
Frohike asked.

"Yeah, it's not a sure cure, but it might work.  Scully thinks so,"
Mulder claimed, dipping his head to one side, catching her eyes with
his own. 

Scully responded to Mulder's subtle encouragement, finding the words
to further describe his condition, "He's taking phenytoin... it's no
guarantee he won't have any more episodes, but it's the best we can
do for him at present.  There's no precedence for this in the medical
literature, or at least what Dr. Myers has had time to review, which
wasn't much.  Maybe you guys could do a little 'research' for us--"

The Gunmen knew this was Scully's code word for 'Could you hack me
some information?'  She'd never felt comfortable asking them to
commit illegal acts; an innocuous request for research assistance
sounded less jarring to her ears.  Scully knew that brainwashing had
been a popular technique during the Cold War, and military records
were far from public.  These closely held records, and others at 
major psychiatric facilities scattered around the country, might go a
long way in unravelling the mystery of Mulder's affliction.  

"We'd be happy to do it.  Ah, here's the police reports right now. 
I'll print them out for you," offered Langly.

"Thanks.  Thanks to all of you for everything you've done for Scully
and me," Mulder said with evident emotion.  

Scully added, "And thanks to Frohike for the huevos rancheros.  They
were definitely on my cravings list."

Frohike grinned and replied, "Oh, we're well aware of the contents
of that list, Agent Scully."

Scully smiled back at him shyly, remembering late night snack runs 
with all three of her friends in tow.  

"So... what do you think you'll do?" Byers asked.  

The question of whether or not Mulder and Scully would return to
Oregon in the near future had been weighing on all three Gunmen's
minds--Byers was nervy enough to ask it.  Three pairs of eyeballs
focused on the expectant parents, their hands casually joined between
them. 

Mulder remained silent, bobbing his head a fraction of an inch in
Scully's direction, telegraphing his desire to abide by her wishes. 
He'd meant every word several hours ago--he'd never leave her again,
for any reason.  It was up to her whether they interviewed the
abductees in person, by phone, or over the internet.  It made no
difference to him, as long as Scully was comfortable with the
investigative method.  He was slightly worried about her travelling
by plane this late in her pregnancy, but he realized there was an
even chance he'd have medical difficulties of his own.  They would
fly to Oregon together or not at all, he thought to himself.

Scully hesitated before she spoke, pulling her lower lip between her
teeth in unconscious deliberation.  Her eyes flitted from one Gunman
to the next, then settled on Mulder's intentionally neutral mask.  He
was determined to let her decide their course of action, and
considering the ill-fated one he'd taken five months ago--one which
had resulted in his abduction and confinement--she understood his
reluctance to influence her choice.

She gave her little audience a megawatt smile and asked, "Hope you
guys know where all the internet bargains are--it's time to cash in
all those frequent flyer miles--"

*********************************************************************
       
February 26th, 2001
Monday
9:00 p.m.
Somewhere over Iowa

"Are you sure you're feeling all right, Scully?" Mulder asked.  She
was readjusting her pillow for the twentieth time since takeoff.

"I'm fine, Mulder... really good.  We had to rush a little but
otherwise I'm happy we left tonight instead of tomorrow morning.  We
got a great deal on these seats, and you know I wouldn't have slept
much tonight anyway," she reminded him.

Scully snuggled closer to his side, burrowing her nose into the soft
jersey of his henley.  The air temperature had to be at least seventy
degrees; they'd shed their jackets as soon as they realized how warm
it was going to be.  What little chill there was from the forced air
flowing through the cabin was offset by Mulder's warm hands, brushing
over her arms and shoulders in hypnotic, circular motions.

"I know.  I wouldn't have either.  Do you think we should have
phoned Teresa and Billy?  They may leave town if the press continues
to harass them," he told her.

"I don't think they'll leave.  You're going to laugh, Mulder... but
I have a feeling they're waiting for us."

He leaned over to gently kiss her forehead, tightening his grip
around her right shoulder.  "I'm not laughing, Scully... I agree with
you.  Billy called us last year when he needed to tell us what was
going down--I doubt if he trusts anyone else to believe him--even if
I ended up being no help at all."

Mulder's dismay was genuine; he'd gone out to Oregon last September
to prevent more abductions, only to find himself among the chosen
few, paralyzed by transfixing white light.  He'd breached the
cloaking force field with his hand, then found himself surrounded by
ethereal, strangulating luminosity.  Blinding illumination--out of
place in the dank, densely wooded area--he knew the minute he crossed
over the invisible barrier he was in another fine mess once again.  

His mind had raced through all the possibilities--could he, would
he, escape this?  Skinner had been a mere fifty feet away, but it
might as well have been fifty miles for all the good it had done him.
There were no exit signs plastered on the perimeter of his new
prison; he was like the ubiquitous Blattella germanica, wandering
into an inviting, all too grim, roach motel.

"They won't blame you, Mulder.  Billy, Ray, all the abductees, know
you're not at fault.  Whoever took you in that forest is responsible
for any harm that's been perpetrated against every one of you.  I
don't think anyone involved in this investigation will suspect the
victims of collusion with their captors."

"I felt so helpless, Scully.  I realized where I was and what what
was going to happen next, but I couldn't turn away from the light. 
It drew me like a moth to a flame--"

"Like a lamb to the slaughter?" she interjected facetiously, tongue
firmly in cheek.

Mulder's lips twisted in perverse delight--it was so nice to get
back to their usual banter.  "Like lemmings to the sea, Scully."

"A fly caught in an endless web," she countered.

"A, a... oh shit, Scully!  I know you're trying to distract me, and
you're doing a good job of it, too," he told her, stroking her
forearm with his fingertips.  "But I have to claim some
responsibility for my own actions.  I knew more than the other
abductees; I should have given them more warning.  I should have told
them all to get out of town, get as far from that ship as possible."

"You didn't know, Mulder.  *We* didn't know what connected the
abductees to one another until you left for Oregon with Skinner.  I
doubt whether you would have stayed in DC if you *had* known about
the anomalous brain activity.  I think you would have gone anyway.  I
think, I know, you would have taken the risk.  You've put yourself in
the line of fire so many times before.  I know you, Mulder, I know
you'd never forgive yourself if you hadn't tried to help Teresa and
Ray and every other person taken that night," she concluded, her
voice wavering slightly at the end of her sentence.

Mulder shook his head vigorously.  "I might have gone to warn them,
Scully.  I might have thought it was the right thing to do... but I
would never have gone if I'd known about the baby.  You know that,
don't you?  I couldn't have left you."

He rubbed his cheek against the silk of her hair, then lowered his
lips to her jawline, showering the sensitive skin there with fleeting
kisses.  

"It may seem like I don't care about my own safety sometimes, and
that's probably all too correct an assumption.  I went back to Oregon
to solve this, to find out what the Consortium, the aliens, are doing
to innocent people.  It's gone on too long, and it has to stop
sometime--but I don't think I would have left you here alone.  I
think I'd be certifiable if I did, Scully.  I would never leave 
you--" 

Mulder whispered his last words close to her ear, then kissed her
lobe gently.  He turned her face toward his with one hand, joining
their lips in a sweet, lasting caress.  They were isolated in the
back of the dimly lit plane--not many people flew this late at night.
Their tranquility was shattered by a noise from the seat in front of
them--both agents found it difficult to contain their laughter when
they realized it was simply a man snoring in his sleep--so loudly he
could be heard throughout the economy class section.

"Think he's trying to tell us something, Scully?" he asked, pulling
the blanket she'd lain across her lap back to its original position.

"I think so," she whispered sotto voce, not wishing to insult the
noisy passenger.  "He needs to go to a sleep clinic!"

"Always seeing it from a physician's perspective, huh?"  He turned
slightly, peering into her sleepy eyes.  "I don't snore, do I?  I
mean, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

"Would you tell me?" she answered playfully.

"No fair, I asked first," he insisted.

"All right.  Let's just say... it's not an immediate problem."

"What?  What does that mean?" he objected.

"I think it'll be thirty years or more before you sound like a
locomotive in your sleep, Mulder."  She reached over and fondly
caressed his cheek.  "I'm happy to put up with a little night music
from you."

"I don't know whether I've been insulted," he told her, in a
deliberately deadpan tone.  "But you know..." he whispered, more
expressively, "I'd be very happy if you put up with me for the next
thirty years, Scully."

For a few minutes she was so quiet he thought she'd fallen asleep
against his shoulder.  He was drifting off himself when he heard her
mumble, "Me, too," in a sleepy soft voice.

fin


Almost Home (23/?)
By Shoshana

February 27th, 2001
Tuesday
Hoese Residence
Bellefleur, Oregon
9:35 a.m.

"Thanks for meeting with us this morning... both of you."  Mulder
glanced from Ray to Teresa Hoese, then back to Scully beside him.

Tabloid rags and sleazy 'news' shows had deluged the couple with
requests for an exclusive interview since they'd emerged from the
tall pine forest near their hometown.  The agents had taken a leap of
faith; they'd flown out to Bellefleur without scheduling an
appointment with their fellow abductees.  When Mulder had contacted
the Hoeses that morning through the Sheriff's department, they'd
returned his call and readily agreed to see them.

The modest bungalow bore no trace of Teresa's violent abduction
months earlier.  Yellow crime scene tape wasn't strewn around the
perimeter of the cozy home, nor were strange marks resembling an acid
spill etched into the kidproof carpeting.  Everything was as it
should be; all the tidying up and repairs had been done by Ray's
mother, hoping against hope her son and daughter-in-law would be
returned.  

Ray had been taken repeatedly over the last eight years and his
parents had participated in a townwide conspiracy of silence 
concerning his mysterious disappearances.  He couldn't have been in 
law enforcement, couldn't have afforded to provide Teresa and their 
child with a decent lifestyle, if everyone was privy to his secret.  

His wife's family had been similarly discreet concerning Teresa's
fewer, but nonetheless disturbing abductions over the years.  Both
Ray and Billy Miles had managed to land jobs with the local police
because of their parents' popularity in the community.  No one who
knew the truth questioned the wisdom of their appointments to the
force, either because they liked the young men personally, or they
too had relatives who'd been torn away from their families by the
same nameless intruders from the sky.

"It's no problem at all, Agent Mulder.  We remember very little of
the last five months or so... but we do know the price you paid for
trying to help us.  Our friends and relatives filled us in on the
search for the missing FBI agent while we were all gone.  I guess it
drew some unwelcome attention to our town, but that's nothing new
here, as you are both already know," Ray told them.

Teresa nodded her head in silent agreement and smiled wanly at her
guests.  She appeared to have lost almost twenty pounds during her
ordeal, no longer the vibrant woman who'd recently given birth to a
child.  Ray seemed a bit scrawny, maybe fifteen pounds underweight,
though no more so than Mulder had been on his return.  It was a
mystery--how had they all maintained muscle tone during their
captivity--did their kidnappers have a secret formula for keeping
them fit, yet were unable to sustain their body weight?

"Are you both okay?  We read the local police report at the station
this morning, and we know you were taken straight to the emergency
room after you flagged down some campers yesterday.  We don't have
access to your medical records at the moment and we were concerned
about you," Scully remarked.

"We're okay," Teresa affirmed.  "Not like other times at all, thank
God.  Both of us are relatively healthy considering how much weight
we seem to have lost.  We have no scars or needle marks.  If they
didn't want to do physical tests on us--we can't imagine why we were
taken.  Do you know why?"

"We have a few theories, but nothing set in stone.  Mulder wasn't
harmed physically, as far as we can tell.  There was some memory
loss, especially concerning whatever happened to him while he was
confined.  He's regained a fraction of those memories; they're still
hazy and disconnected.  Which leads me to my next question--have you
forgotten any events in your lives prior to your abduction last
September?" Scully asked.

Teresa glanced over at her husband, swallowing hard.  They hadn't
discussed every aspect of their nightmarish adventure, preferring to
tell each other as little as necessary.  They'd both been interviewed
by law enforcement yesterday, but revealed as little as possible to
Ray's former colleagues.  Claiming exhaustion, they'd asked to be
excused until a later date when they'd thought things through more
clearly.  

The current Deputy Sheriff was mildly irritated, but understood the
need to be reunited as soon as possible with their child.  He'd asked
them to write down whatever they could last night, but both Ray and
his wife found it impossible to adequately express themselves on 
paper.  They were in bed by eight o'clock, their child snuggled 
between them.

"I can only speak for myself.  I barely remember the events leading
up to our disappearance, because I was incapitated by whoever,
whatever, took me from my family.  I remember seeing Agent Mulder
step into a circle of light... after that... I just don't know... I
have vague memories of being restrained in a hospital bed.  That's
about it for the last five months, I'm sorry to say," Ray apologized.

Teresa agreed with a slight bob of her head.  "It's pretty much the
same for me.  I haven't forgotten my life before we were taken.  I
remember standing in the forest, seeing so many familiar faces around
me, then seeing Agent Mulder.  I guess we should be thankful we don't
recollect more," she sighed.

Mulder shook his head and sent them both a sad, sympathetic smile. 
"Maybe so, but if you have any post-traumatic symptoms, you probably
should see a therapist.  That's not my opinion as a professional, Mr.
and Mrs. Hoese.  It's just my hope for you as a friend."

"Thanks, Agent Mulder.  We appreciate everything you've done for us.
But the real question now is... do you think they'll be back for us?"
Ray asked.

Teresa squeezed Ray's hand firmly, his eyes meeting hers fondly. 
They waited patiently for Mulder to respond, "I don't know.  I have
to find out why we were taken first.  That's why--"

Mulder was interrupted by a toddler's cry, bleating from the baby
monitor positioned prominently on the Hoese's coffee table.  Teresa
gave her guests a nervous smile, then rose from the couch.  

Before she ascended the stairway leading to the second floor, she
turned around and addressed Scully, "Come along?"

Scully glanced over at Mulder, seeking and finding silent approval. 
Divide and conquer, he'd always told her.  People were more easily
persuaded one on one, especially under these circumstances.  Scully
realized this was more than an ordinary interrogation of witnesses--
these people were their friends, and what they had to ask of them was
above and beyond the call of duty.  Even for law enforcement 
personnel.

Scully followed Teresa to the nursery where the now eighteen-month
old child was broadcasting his displeasure.  His mother picked him up
and placed him on the changing table immediately.  The baby had been
fed moments before Mulder and Scully arrived at their doorstep, so
she knew what the problem had to be.

"Please sit down, Agent Scully," Teresa said, motioning toward the
white rocker nearby.  She efficiently changed the baby while
continuing their conversation, "You know, he remembered me," she told
Scully, her voice cracking with emotion.  "I was so afraid, almost
six months gone... I thought he might forget--"

"Was he with your parents?" Scully inquired.

"Yes.  Ray's, actually.  I guess I should be grateful he doesn't
wonder what happened to his mother all these months.  That's why
we're so concerned--what happens when he's older, when he can figure
it out for himself.  Or maybe the kids at school will tease him about
his missing Mom or Dad.  I just don't know what to think anymore,"
Teresa said, a note of despair coloring her voice.

"We're going to solve this, Mrs. Hoese.  But we need your help. 
Desperately," Scully said, losing a fraction of her composure in
response to Teresa's malaise.  

Teresa turned all the way around, pulled by Scully's plaintive tone.

"Are you at risk, too?  Because of Agent Mulder--is the baby--"  

It was an educated guess on her part, relying on her previous
impressions of Mulder and Scully--and how they'd related to the baby
last time they'd all been in the same room together.  Teresa had
sensed the agents were involved with one another; she hadn't had the
nerve to hint of such a thing, not even when Scully showed up on her
doorstep, obviously well along in her pregnancy.  The Hoeses had
acknowledged her condition with broad smiles, offering her the most
comfortable chair in their living room.  Beyond that, they'd both
been too shy to ask for confirmation of parentage.

Scully fought back tears, treading a fine line between
professionalism and personal interest.  No one could be more
sympathetic to their plight than a fellow abductee like Teresa, with
a small child to protect from seemingly random, senseless harm. 
Scully needed the Hoese's cooperation, but didn't want to burden them
with unfounded fears.  There was no evidence the aliens were
interested in taking young children from abductee parents--at least
not yet.

"We're just concerned right now, Teresa.  May I call you Teresa?" 
Scully continued when the young mother bobbed her head, "We don't
know what lies ahead for our family.  Whatever we discover could
benefit us all, but we need your help to do some research.  We need
to ask a lot of you and Ray."

"What sort of research?  Tests?"  Teresa's voice quavered on her
last word, one with so many negative connotations.

Scully swallowed hard, hating herself for asking so much of someone
so fragile, so recently traumatized by losing months of her life, of
her child's life.

"Blood tests, and non-invasive tests like MRIs, CT scans.  All the
abductees from Oregon had anomalous brain activity, including you and
Ray.  We'd like to know if your child has a similar condition." 
Scully shook her head, attempting to stave Teresa's fear, etched
clearly across her face.  "No harm would be done.  I promise you."

Teresa nodded her head, then turned back to her toddler, checking
his diaper one last time.  She lifted him from the table, hesitating
slightly, then crossing the room to Scully.  She gently transferred
the baby to the seated agent, smiling at the look of wonder in
Scully's eyes.

Scully cradled the child in her arms, speaking a few nonsense words
to make him giggle.  "He's beautiful, Teresa."

"Yours will be, too.  They all are, Agent Scully."

"Please call me Dana," Scully insisted.

"Dana, then," Teresa agreed.  "Do you think we can wait a few days? 
I think it will be easier to convince my husband when we've had a
little more time to rest."

"I don't see why not.  Mulder and I don't have to be here.  You can
have your doctor fax the test results to us.  I can't promise you
anything, Teresa.  But you can imagine how much your help means to
both of us.  It may safeguard our child's future," Scully told her,
carefully passing the child back to his mother.

Scully stood up slowly, gaining leverage with her feet.  Her own
baby chose that moment to use her womb for kickball practice, causing
her to wobble slightly on her feet. One hand flew to her stomach, the
other balanced against the baby's crib.

"Are you okay?" Teresa asked with concern.

"Oh, yeah.  I'm fine," answered Scully automatically.  She added,
"Just a little reminder to Mom, I guess.  He's getting more active
lately."   

"Am I interrupting anything?" Mulder asked from the nursery doorway.

Scully beamed at him.  He looked handsome in the suit he'd
been loath to wear while on medical leave.  She'd convinced him to
bring it along, just in case.  Her clothes were less versatile--tunic
tops in black, brown or navy--leggings with a similar color palette. 
Last month the saleslady at the maternity store had frowned when
she'd refused to consider brighter shades; it would have been
impossible to explain why she favored somber ones, at least until
Mulder came home.  Maybe it's time for a change, Scully mused to
herself.

"No, not at all, Agent Mulder.  The baby is changed, and Dana and I
had a good talk, didn't we?" Teresa said while bouncing her child
gently in her arms.

"Well, *Dana*," Mulder said with a smile.  "I just got a call from
Billy.  He'd like to see us.  You up for that?"

"Are you done speaking with Ray?" Scully asked, amused by the use of
her first name under the circumstances.

"I think so.  I hope so," he responded.  

Mulder cast a worried glance toward Teresa.  He was reassured
immediately by her tranquil demeanor as well as Scully's ease in her
presence.  The womenfolk had been up to something, he knew that for
sure.

"Let's get moving then.  We have a few more stops before we meet
with Billy," Mulder urged.

"Hold on," Scully said.  

She crossed the room to Teresa and whispered something in her ear. 
Teresa nodded once, then smiled brightly.  Scully leaned over to kiss
the baby, then patted his mother's hand.

"Take care, Teresa.  I'll call you within the week."

"You take care of yourself, Dana.  Allow Ray to show you out.  I
think I'll spend a few more minutes here."

Mulder stepped forward and attempted to shake Teresa's hand, ending
up with a bit of gurgling baby in his face.  He tickled the child
gently, resulting in giggles from the baby and laughter from the
adults.

"Thank you, Teresa," Mulder said, putting his arm around Scully's
waist, escorting her down the stairs and out of the house.

A few photographers waited miserably in the cold on the periphery of
the Hoese property.  They'd been warned to stay behind an invisible
line by Ray's fellow officers that morning.  The newsmongers ignored
Mulder and Scully, unaware the duo were newsworthy in their own way. 
Apparently flyers had stopped circulating with Mulder's mug the
previous week when Skinner had relayed the news of his return to
local law enforcement.

The partners were halfway down the sidewalk which led to the Hoese
front door when Mulder could no longer contain himself.

"What did you whisper to Teresa back there, Scully?" he asked.

"Ah, wouldn't you like to know," she said with an air of mystery.

"Everything's all right, isn't it?  I mean, I just assumed it was
from the way you were--"

"Oh, Mulder.  Everything's just fine.  She's agreed to the tests. 
Not right away, though."

"So, what did you tell her?" he insisted.

Scully grinned at his persistence, then snickered softly.  "I told
her, 'Doesn't he look great in that suit?'"

"Scully!  You are so full of it."  Mulder stopped her in front of
the driver side door.  "What did you really say?"

"It had absolutely nothing to do with you, Mulder.  You're just
paranoid enough to believe anything."  She pushed him gently toward
the sedan door.  "So there!" she said, strolling toward the passenger
side. 

"I'm not totally paranoid," he mumbled under his breath.

"What's that you say, Mulder?" she turned and asked, close to
laughter.

"Get in the car, Scully," he ordered goodnaturedly.

"Tyrant."

"Tease."

"Not me.  I'm a respectable pregnant lady.  By the way, Mulder,
where's our tail?  Did you tell Skinner where we were going last
night?"

"I left a message on his answering machine.  If they followed us
here, I haven't seen them.  They must be damn good if Mr. Paranoid
hasn't detected them, don't you agree?" Mulder grumbled.

Scully reached over the seat and took his hand in her own,
caressing his knuckles with her thumb.  "They must be very good, I
imagine."  

He pulled her hand to his face, locking their fingers together
beside his cheek.  "Not as good as you are, Sherlock."

They smiled at one another, then he gave her hand a mannerly kiss,
releasing it to buckle his seatbelt.

"Where to?" she asked.

"Back to the station.  They've compiled a full list of returned
abductees, with possible alternative hideouts from the press.  I
guess the 'Weekly World News' has been busy harassing these people,
and most of them have fled their own homes.  I don't know if we can
get to everyone on the list in just a few days.  I'm not even sure we
need to.  What do you think?"

"I think we need to do what we can.  And I think I'd rather be doing 
this than sitting around at home worrying about what the Consortium 
has in store for us," she responded.

"I don't want you overexerting yourself, Scully.  I'm beginning to
wonder if I shouldn't have made you stay home--"

"No way, G-Man.  I'm not leaving you to your own devices and losing
you again.  It's only a couple days, right?  And you promised to stay
out of the woods, didn't you?" she purred, straightening the collar
of his dress shirt.

Mulder intercepted her hand, twining their fingers together.  "I
have a pretty good incentive to stay in my motel room tonight," he
answered, voice low and silky.

"The same one you had last night?" she smiled, continuing the
flirtation.

"I sure hope so," he whispered back.

He smiled back at her, resisting the temptation of even the chastest
kiss considering their ready-made audience of paparazzi.

"Let's get going," he said before turning the key in the ignition.

"Let's," she responded, her attention already drawn to Billy Miles's
medical file on the seat between them.

After a few short stops, they arrived at Billy's temporary quarters
at a friend's home.  There were a few stray reporters here, too,
wincing as a light rain began to sprinkle around them.

Billy had lost body mass also, much more than Mulder or Ray had.  A
slim man before the abduction, he was a ghost of the man they both
remembered.  He welcomed the agents and offered them coffee, smiling
at Scully when he told her decaf was available.  She smiled back and
took him up on it, sitting down on the couch next to Mulder.

"My aunt sent over some sandwiches, if you're hungry, Agents," he
offered his guests as he made the instant coffee.

"Thanks, Billy.  Maybe we'll hold off for now.  We have a few other
stops to make," apologized Scully.

Mulder repressed a scowl; he didn't like to see her skip meals
anymore.  She'd always ignored lunchtime on the road, preferring to
catch up in their motel rooms at night.  Of course, this notion was
based on his limited memories of their last year together.  He'd
tried to reach farther back than October of 1999, hoping to recall
more about their life together.  His mind always failed him, only
able to reminisce from some point after his non-elective brain
surgery.  It didn't really matter if she declined a sandwich here, he
told himself, making a mental note to drag his beloved to a local 
diner shortly after their visit with Billy.

"If you change your mind, Agent Scully, don't hesitate to tell me,"
Billy added.  "My aunt is just trying to fatten me up.  Problem is,
I've lost most of my appetite."

Mulder nodded with understanding.  Images of his own confinement had
begun drifting into his consciousness every waking hour since
Saturday's episode at the summer house.  He wasn't about to reveal
any of those memories to Scully just yet, even if Billy related
identical experiences to them.

They all sipped their coffee for a minute until Billy initiated the
conversation, "You saw Ray and Teresa, then?"

"Yes, we did.  I'm glad to see them doing so well," Scully responded.

Billy looked around the living room sadly, then met her eyes. 
"They'll have nightmares later.  We're all so used to this by now,
it's pathetic.  I want to help you, agents.  I want to stop this from
happening again.  I've had enough--all these good people who are
taken repeatedly have had enough.  Can't you help us?"  

His last plea was so heartfelt; Scully wished she could embrace
Billy and tell him they'd do whatever they could to stop the
cycle of abductions.  She balanced her coffee cup in her hands,
slightly swollen from pregnancy.  Maintaining a completely objective
demeanor didn't mix with their mission here; these people were not 
only victims, they were their friends.  

Fate had brought them together again and Scully felt cornered by
forces beyond her control.  She sensed Mulder felt as helpless as she
did--he sat in stony silence beside her, lost in his own thoughts. 
He rarely zoned out when they were on investigations, but this was
different--she knew he wasn't telling her the whole story of his
captivity.  She wouldn't push him to do so, nor would she sit idly by
when they returned to DC.  Mulder needed to start seeing a therapist
as much as the Hoeses--the sooner the better.

Mulder surprised her by speaking up, "We could use a little help,
Billy.  Do you know some of the abductees with children?"

"A few.  Why?" Billy asked.

"They might be more easily persuaded if a familiar face asked them
to help our investigation," Mulder responded.

"I'll help you any way I can, but you must realize we're all scared.
We want to help, but we don't want to be taken again,"  Billy 
fretted.

"We'd like to see if certain traits of the parents are passed on to
their children.  It might help us determine why you were taken.  We
hesitate to ask this... we'll understand if people don't want to 
help... all we can do is ask and hope for the best," Scully told him.

Billy smiled shyly, and nodded his head affirmatively.  "I'll go
along with you, introduce you to the ones most likely to agree.  I'm
sure it will be more helpful if I'm with you."

"Thank you, Billy.  You have no idea how much this means to us,"
Scully said, placing her cup on the table before her.

"We can go now, if you like.  I'll call ahead."

"Thanks, Billy," Mulder added, gulping down the rest of his coffee
before rising from the couch.

Billy took their cups and went into the kitchen to call the other
abductees.  Mulder took hold of Scully's hands, making her giggle
softly as he pulled her to a standing position in front of the couch.
He put his arm around her shoulder and sprinkled the crown of her
head with a few gentle kisses.

"Mulder," she scolded, "This is work."

"Oh, is that what this is?" he laughed, lowering his hand to her
thigh.

The jingle of Billy's car keys warned them of his approach and they
sprang apart seconds before he re-entered the room.  Scully fussed
with her hair nervously while Mulder studied his shoes with interest.
Although Billy had probably figured out their relationship months 
ago--when they'd arrived to help him prevent more abductions--acting
unprofessional was never in their best interest.  

"Ready?" Billy inquired with a grin.

"You bet," Scully answered, confidently striding toward the door with
Mulder right behind her.

fin

Almost Home (24/?)
By Shoshana

February 27th, 2001
Tuesday
10:13 p.m.
A motel room
Bellefleur, Oregon

Scully hugged the extra pillow between her knees, listening to the
now familiar sound of Mulder's nightly routine.  She fidgeted on her
side of the bed, rearranging her nightgown for the umpteenth time
since crawling under the covers.  The mattress swayed gently as he
came to bed, sliding across the sheets to mold his body behind hers.

Mulder threaded his arm around her expanded waistline, resting his
palm on the slope of her belly.  Warm lips caressed the nape of her
neck, cold toes became better acquainted with her own.  She hummed
with contentment, burying her cheek against the soft cotton of the
pillowcase.

The bed clothes smelled of sweet detergent and fabric softener, but
Mulder tasted minty when she turned her head to receive his kiss.
Just over a week now, she thought.  He's been home such a short while
and we've already settled into a routine.

They were both too tired for anything but sleep, yet she sensed some
agitation on Mulder's part, something left unsaid in the last few
hours at the motel.

"What's wrong?" she whispered, stroking her thumb across his hand.

"Oh, you're too tired.  It can wait," he muttered.

Mulder nuzzled her shoulder gently, then rained small kisses across
her shoulder blades.  It was soothing to her until his mouth returned
to her neckline, chancing upon a ticklish square inch just above her
shirt.

"Ooh," she cried softly, squirming back against his chest.
"Tickles."

"Sorry," Mulder apologized.

"Don't be."  After several silent seconds, she demanded, "Tell me
what's wrong, Mulder.  I'm too curious to fall asleep now."

He repositioned his arms around her, one stretching beneath the
pillow, the other cradling her belly.  She waited patiently for him
to speak, long acquainted with the brief pauses he often took before
telling her something significant.

"I wanna go home tomorrow, Scully," he told her pensively.

She hesitated in her response, expecting more of an explanation.
When he remained silent, she spoke calmly, "Okay.  We don't have to
stay.  Billy hooked us up with several receptive parents who'll allow
their kids to be tested when things settle down around here.  There's
no reason to hang around, Mulder."

"I know I said we should go out to the abduction site, Scully, but
I've changed my mind.  Frankly, I've had enough of Bellefleur for the
rest of my life.  It gives me the creeps, Scully."

Scully laughed softly, her lips forming a wry smile.  "Knowing your
threshold for creepiness, I guess we better get out of Dodge,
partner."

Mulder chuckled, then caressed her neck softly with his nose.  He
lifted his head slightly, attending to her small, delectable earlobe
with his tongue.  She shivered at the contact, pleasantly exhilarated
despite her fatigue.

"I don't feel comfortable here, that's all," he added.

She slowly shifted in his arms, coming to rest on her back so she
could see his eyes gleaming in the filtered light from the stylized
lantern outside their door.  He propped himself up on one elbow,
inches away from her.  His free hand sought out her left one, lacing
their fingers neatly together.

"Me, neither," she admitted, meeting his gaze.

"Good.  I mean, I don't want you to stay here if you don't want to,
Scully.  I think we did what we had to--now I just want to leave.  I
don't have any curiosity about these woods.  I don't want you hiking
around as far along as you are."

"Oh, I'd be all right," she said quickly.

"Yeah, probably.  But what's the point in going out there?  If I was
truly taken aboard a ship--it's not there anymore--I'm fairly sure of
that.  If I was kept at some facility, I think the boys would have
found it with their satellite maps.  You already checked out all
major structures around here months ago.  And you know there wouldn't
be any evidence left behind anyway.  I think we need to get on with
our lives back home; I want to get back to work, plus all the plans
your mom has for us--"

"Ha!  Don't worry about my mom.  She's a military wife.  She's used
to changing plans at the drop of a hat."

"You want to?  Change plans, that is?" he asked with some
trepidation.

Scully realized within seconds what he thought she meant.  She
sighed with exasperation, "No, Mulder.  I don't mean *not* get
married.  I'm just saying, if we need to postpone she won't go
ballistic.  Family events always were last minute affairs; there were
times we didn't know where we'd be living the next month of our
lives.  It didn't pay to plan too far ahead."

Mulder grazed his fingers down her cheek, then leaned over to kiss
her on the mouth.  "No wonder you put up with me, Scully.  I haven't
given you much advance notice, have I?"

She smiled up at him, "Especially when you'd tear off in the car
without me, Mulder.  No notice is more like it," she complained
goodnaturedly.

"I was bad, wasn't I?" he admitted.

"Very bad," she responded, reaching over to capture his hand.  She
gripped it tightly, lifting his fingertips to her lips.

"Wanna punish me?" he managed to say between chortling laughter on
both their parts.

Scully tugged at his arm, then lowered the register of her voice,
"Get over here and I will right now, G-Man."

Mulder grinned roguishly, then carefully gathered her into his arms.
Their lips met for several minutes, until they relaxed away from the
kiss, remaining in a side by side embrace.

"You need to rest," he said, tenderly tracing her mouth with his
index finger.

"I will," she pledged.  "Later."

He snickered softly, then bridged the gap between them, pulling her
as close as he could, with special deference to her expanded figure.
His hands coursed down her back, paying close attention to the bumpy
knobs of her vertebral column.

She sighed with obvious pleasure; this was what she had yearned for,
all those lonely months.  A simple back massage was as welcome as
every other aspect of their intimacy, including lovemaking.  She'd
missed it all and she had it now--she felt tears trickle down her
cheeks in spite of a mighty struggle to contain them.

"Oh, Scully," he crooned softly when he felt the wetness on her
cheeks.  "You're crying."

She shook her head as he cradled her cheeks with his large palmed
hands.  "Happy," was all she uttered before their mouths met again,
lips moist with passion and salty tears.

Mulder paused to swipe his thumbs across her face, gathering the
last traces of moisture from beneath her eyes.

"Me, too," he breathed into her lips, before kissing her again.
"Let's get some sleep, okay?"

She felt his smile as he brushed his lips against her forehead.
"Okay."

Scully turned onto her right side, then readjusted the pillow
between her knees.  As if on cue, Mulder snuggled close to her body
again, draping his arms around her waist.  Her feet sought out the
warm flesh of his shins and his hand left her side for brief seconds,
pulling the bedcovers over her shoulder.

*********************************************************************
February 28th, 2001
Wednesday
United Airlines Flight 920
3:59 p.m.
Thirty minutes away from Dulles airport

Scully held on to her left forearm with great effort, steadying it
so she could read the digital readout.  Twenty minutes between
Braxton-Hicks contractions, she thought to herself.  Damn, damn,
damn.  She couldn't possibly be going into labor now.

She knew these mild contractions increased towards the end of
pregnancy and were more common for women who'd had at least one child
before.  This didn't prevent her from fretting over their frequency
and intensity.  They might increase in regularity for several hours,
then become farther apart and gradually fade away.

They *should* fade away!  She was nowhere near thirty-seven weeks
pregnant, when she should first see signs of preterm labor.  She
didn't want to alarm Mulder, who was presently sprawled out in the
seat beside her own, lost in dreamland.

The contractions were somewhat erratic, occuring every twenty to
forty minutes--and they weren't increasing in intensity like Scully
knew they should if she was actually in labor.  She'd drunk her whole
bottle of water since the flight had begun several hours ago, trying
to manage what she hoped were unproductive contractions.

Fortunately, it had been non-stop from Portland to DC--a five hour
flight leaving at 8:40.  Mulder had been up at the crack of dawn,
making arrangements with the airline.  It was costing a fortune; he
hadn't wanted to rush and make an cheaper, earlier flight the Bureau
would have preferred.

He'd told her he just wanted to get out of town, didn't care if they
had to make up the difference when 'Chesty' Short bitched about it
during their next audit from hell.  If there ever was one.  She
wasn't so sure they'd get to keep the X-Files after all.

The silence from the powers that be was peculiar; she'd expected a
review board almost immediately after Mulder's reappearance in DC.
It hadn't happened yet, pending some decision from above Skinner's
level of bureaucracy.

She dreaded the consequences of an OPR meeting.  Theoretically, they
could close the X-Files, could separate her and Mulder, could strip
them of access to resources she needed to study the medical records
of all the abductees and a select few of their children.

Worrying about these possibilities distracted Scully from her
physical problems, but didn't prevent her next contraction from
occurring at four o'clock.  They were still twenty minutes apart,
still the same moderate intensity.  She couldn't wake Mulder this
soon before they landed, she thought.

Ultimately, she had no choice but to tell him.  He'd already awoken,
and was staring at her as she let out a tiny gasp, then gripped the
circumference of her belly with her hands.

"Scully?" he asked, rousing himself from his sleep state quickly.

Mulder rubbed his forehead with his hands, wishing he had some
pain relievers, yet knowing his first priority was definitely not his
own welfare.

"What is it, Scully?" he persisted when she didn't say anything.

Her eyes betrayed her anxious state and Mulder pulled his body out
of a relaxed slouch.  He reached over with one hand, tenderly
embracing the right side of her face.

"Tell me," he demanded.

He noticed red marks on her lips, tender flesh she'd gnawed at with
worry.  The thumb of his right hand traced over her lips lightly, and
he could feel a slight tremor course through her body.

"Scully," he entreated, his hand coming to rest on her cheek again.

"It's nothing, Mulder.  Really," she said unconvincingly.

"Are you having contractions?" he guessed correctly.

Scully opened her eyes wide and nodded affirmatively, appreciative
of his insight.  Mulder must have been peeking at her pregnancy
manuals, especially after their visit to Dr. Myers on Monday.

"They're too far apart, Mulder.  And they don't feel like real
labor.  I mean, I don't know for sure, but I don't think this is it.
Okay?  I wasn't hiding from you.  I just didn't want you to panic."

Mulder fixed his eyes upon her with a penetrating gaze, one
betraying a calm she'd seen many times in the field.  He seemed to be
approaching this whole pregnancy as one prolonged investigation,
researching it as he would any other adventure they'd embarked on.
His attitude was contagious; she felt herself relaxing against her
seat, forgetting her obsession with timing the contractions.

He gave her a quick smile, then said, "Wake me next time.  You don't
have to go through this alone, Scully.  I want to be here for you,
okay?  Now, what happened, again?"

"Braxton-Hicks contractions or false labor.  I'm not sure which, but
they're twenty minutes apart," she reported tersely.

"Is that bad?" he asked, one hand scrubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Not necessarily.  They're irregular; they aren't getting stronger
and closer together with time.  I guess I just got a little worried
there, but it's nothing, Mulder.  I'm a doctor, remember?"

"A doctor who's delivered one baby in her life--one who's had to do
extracurricular reading in a field she vaguely remembers from med
school--"

"Vague, my ass!  I aced my exams in prenatal care," she countered.

"Yeah, and I graduated with first honors in psychology, Scully.  It
didn't prevent me from ending up in a padded cell, did it?"

"That was different, Mulder.  You couldn't have avoided that.  It's
a ridiculous comparison."

"Well, I can think of other times I lost my cool demeanor and ended
up in four point restraints.  My point is, you don't have to do this
on your own.  Just because you studied pregnancy or got an 'A' on the
exam doesn't mean you have to see your own experience from a clinical
perspective.  Every day I look at you--see you grow--it's amazing to
me, Scully.  It was incredible before last Saturday when I wasn't all
that sure who I was anymore."

Scully sat open-mouthed, a smile reaching her eyes as she took in
his testimony.  He was correct--she'd seen her pregnancy clinically
before he'd arrived home, protecting herself from the disappointment
of going through the whole experience alone.  Even after he'd
returned to her, she'd been reluctant to let her guard down and
accept all the help he was willing to give.  It was just an extension
of her normal, nonpregnant personality, unaffected by hormones, off-
side kicks inside her womb, or cravings for Ben and Jerry's.

She swallowed hard and cleared her throat.  "I guess I should have
said something.  But really--I don't think there's anything to worry
about.  If I get up and walk around a little the contractions should
go away."  She reached over and patted his cheek assuringly.  "I'm
not hiding from you, Mulder.  I can't even lie to you--how would I
ever lie to you?" she concluded with a smile.

Their conversation was interrupted by the usual announcement to
fasten one's seatbelt and prepare for landing.  They spent the rest
of the flight quietly, holding hands, watching the green fields of
western Virginia fly by and the familiar cityscape of DC rise to
greet them.

fin


Almost Home (25/?)
By Shoshana

February 28th, 2001
Wednesday
6:15 p.m.
Scully's apartment
Georgetown

Mulder and Scully sat at opposite ends of the couch staring at the
offensive sheet of paper on the coffee table.  Crumpled and misshapen
by Mulder's initial fit of anger, it rocked precariously on the edge
of the wooden surface.  Ten minutes ago he'd read the summons aloud
at her request while she'd bustled about her apartment, opening the
drapes, turning the heat on to take the chill off the late winter
night.

"Skinner--"

"Just got his too, Scully.  There's a time stamp of five o'clock. 
He either didn't know about this or he's not allowed to communicate
with hearing participants.  I don't think he tried to pull a fast one
on us by not warning us in advance.  He's known where we were the
last few days."

Scully played idly with the hem of her tunic top.  She'd managed to
take her winter coat off before Mulder finished reading the entire
missive.  He still wore his leather jacket, shoulders tense from his
spontaneous outburst.  

They both had known it was possible--that Mulder could be called
before the OPR, forced to explain his mysterious disappearance five
months ago.  The time and effort of dozens of FBI agents and vast
financial resources had been expended to search for him last fall. 
The search had tapered off as autumn leaves left the lush Capitol
greenery, dwindling to nil by the season's first snowfall.

Scully, Skinner, and the Gunmen had continued to look for their
friend, never abandoning the fervent hope Mulder would show up in
some local emergency room.  The men remembered Scully's return from
oblivion all too well; she only knew secondhand accounts of her
initial stay at Northeast Georgetown Medical Center.  

It was one of the hospitals on their primary checklist--every
morning, afternoon, and night their high-speed Pentiums would search
lists of John Does for certain distinguishing characteristics--red
flags that should make Mulder's admittance to a hospital impossible
to miss.

Ironically, Mulder hadn't ended up in any medical facility they'd
been monitoring; he'd hitchhiked his way to Portland, flying home in
a comfortable jet.  He'd been shell shocked the entire way home,
gazing with disbelief at the date on all the newspapers he could
muster.

His worries had been far from over, of course.  Life had thrown him
another curve ball on top of his seemingly extreme case of amnesia--a
red-headed partner three months shy of her due date.  Said partner
sat across from him tonight, skimming her elegantly done manicure
over the seat cushion beside her.  

Scully had remained unflustered, observing him with a cool sense of
composure as he'd crushed the OPR letter between his hands--then
thought better of his action, unfurling the abused sheet, flattening
it on top of the coffee table.  He'd then settled into the couch,
smiling sheepishly for a brief moment.  His mood had darkened in less
than a minute as they'd pondered the consequences of the official
inquiry.

"What will you say?"  Scully asked him, as of yet unflustered by the
matter at hand.

Mulder rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers, then threaded
his hands through his hair, pushing it off his forehead.  

"Argh."  He shook his head from side to side, eyes wide open,
perplexed beyond words for one of the few times in his life.

"You don't have to tell them what happened, Mulder.  You haven't
told me," she said in a tone of voice she hoped didn't sound the
least bit accusatory.  She didn't want him to feel bad about keeping
this to himself.  Lord knows she hadn't been completely honest about
what she remembered from her abduction experience.

He turned his face toward her, jaw clenched slightly, pain evident
in his mossy-colored eyes.  He didn't want to have this conversation,
not now, perhaps not forever.  Especially not while she was pregnant
with her first and perhaps only child.

"I need to show up, Scully.  I'll lose my job if I don't.  I know
they'll think I'm a nut job when I tell them about Bellefleur, about
the ship, about the little I remember of my abduction.  I'm so hazy
on details--I'm not sure whether I dreamed what happened to me during
my captivity.  For all I know, everything I remember from the last
five months could be an implanted memory."

She considered this with some gravity, nodding her head as she
curled her lip with the edge of her teeth.  He considered this her
'thinking mode' and couldn't suppress a tiny smile as he admired her
zen-like calm.  

Scully caught the tail end of his grin, smiling back and asking,
"What?"

"Nothing," he lied, not wishing to explain everything he loved about
her just yet.  He didn't want her to feel self-conscious about every
little thing she did.  And he wanted to keep the discussion on track
for now.

Her eyes kept smiling as she retorted, "I'll bet.  Something's on
your mind, Fox Mulder.  Give it up.  I want to know, too."

Mulder shook his head no, fully aware she didn't believe him for one
DC minute.  His palms rubbed up and down the rough fabric of his
jeans, then tapped a staccato beat against his thighs.  He had a 
plan--one he'd been formulating for days.  It had been too soon to 
reveal it to her on their trip to Bellefleur, but now might be a good
time to tell all.

He turned to face her, slinging his arm over the back of the couch. 
Their hands were still too far apart to meet, but he considered that
a good thing for the moment.  They needed to discuss the future as
sensibly as possible; he was much more rational when he wasn't
touching her.  

He thought she might feel the same way--they'd made an art out of
avoiding one another physically on the job last year, especially
after they'd become physically intimate.  There was so much heat
between them when they were alone in their own homes, it became
difficult to touch casually at work.

Mulder studied her for a moment.  She was waiting patiently for his
reply, accustomed to long pauses in their conversations, particularly
ones this important in the scheme of things.  He decide to go for it,
take a chance she wouldn't banish him to Alpha Centauri the minute
she heard his plan.

"I'll go to the hearing, Scully.  I'm obligated to do so.  To tell
the truth.  I'm not going to lie about what I think may have happened
to me."

"It didn't only happen to you, Mulder.  Other abductees have been
returned.  We have evidence, medical records, personal accounts.  You
don't have to feel like a kook anymore.  God knows it took me years
to believe," she told him with a grin.  "I'll be there.  I'll back
you up with what medical evidence we have."

He smiled at her, wanting to bridge the physical gap between them,
but resisting the temptation for now.  "I know you will.  I know I'll
piss off fifty per cent of the panel with my talk of alien abduction
and brain waves and cloaked space ships.  The other fifty per cent
might actually listen to me."  He paused, taking in a long, steady
breath before his bombshell.  "It will be great to get it off my
chest.  Almost like therapy.  But Scully, after I tell them what
happened, after they make a decision whether or not to retain me as
an agent or to keep the X-Files open--what happens after that?  We go
back to investigating the paranormal when we know there's more
important things--"

"You want to quit?"  Scully interrupted.  

She'd had a horrible sinking feeling about this since he'd read the
letter to her.  Just as she'd expected, he wanted to quit the bureau.
It was too soon--too much had happened to him in the last week and a
half.  He'd had to make the physical and emotional adjustment of
being home for the first time in months, discovering a ready-made
family waiting for him.  He'd recovered part of his memory, but would
that be all--would he always wonder about the years he had lost?

Mulder waved his hands in the air in protest, then covered his mouth
with one hand, debating his response.  Scully seemed agitated, anger
bleeding through her previously calm composure.  His best guess was
that she was furious because he hadn't mentioned anything about this
before tonight.  She might be willing to listen to his rationale for
quitting the bureau; it was the perceived deception that was pissing
her off.

Scully sighed heavily, then launched herself from the couch with a
lot less difficulty than either of them would have expected.  He
practically leaped off the couch, but she raised her hand in a silent
gesture, asking him not to follow her.  He fell back, sitting down on
the edge of the couch, watching as she walked to the window
overlooking the parking lot.

Her back turned to him, her voice caught as she spoke.  He knew she
was fighting back tears; he just didn't know why.

"Mulder, I don't think you can make a decision like this right now. 
I know everything has happened so fast.  I know you're struggling to
integrate your life before you met me with the last year of your
life.  But you can't do this anymore.  You can't make decisions by
yourself anymore."

She turned around slowly and he saw the tears she'd shed already,
streaming down her cheeks.  "We can't raise a child, be a family, if
you don't want to include me.  How could you come to such a decision
without so much as asking me how I felt about it?"

"I am asking you," he interrupted.  "I'm asking you now," he
answered.  

He wanted to rush over to her and gather her into his arms--he
resisted the impulse, wary of her mood.

"You sounded like you had already made your decision, Mulder. 
You've never asked me what I want to do after my maternity leave is
over.  We've never discussed our future beyond May when the baby will
be born.  It would have been nice--"

Scully put her hand over her mouth and rushed by Mulder, en route to
the bathroom.  Oh shit, Mulder said to himself.   The door slammed
and he raced over there, placing his hands against the door, counting
backwards from one hundred slowly before opening his inept mouth.

He heard muffled sounds of her throwing up.  Probably not morning
sickness, he surmised.  Probably just the stress, the pain he had
brought to her.  Why can't I ever learn, he thought.  I could have
brought up leaving the bureau a hundred different ways.  Count on me
to choose the wrong way.

Mulder couldn't stand outside the door and listen to this anymore. 
He knocked softly, then called to her, "Scully, please let me help
you.  I want to help you."

He heard the faucet being turned on, then off.  He thought he heard
her brushing her teeth, then knew she was when she walked over to the
door and opened it, toothbrush still in her mouth.

"It's open," she said, returning to the sink so she could rinse.

He didn't enter--just leaned against the door jamb and watched her
finish up, dabbing a towel across her mouth.  He dropped his head to
his chest, closing his eyes and relaxing stiff muscles by leaning
from one side to the other.  When he re-opened his eyes, she was
standing six inches away from him, smelling of mint.

She lifted her hand to his cheek and stroked his rough beard with
her thumb.  A tiny smile told him he was one lucky man.  Scully
hadn't banished him yet.

"Let's get something to drink, Mulder.  I need some camomile tea,"
she told him. 

He followed her out to the kitchen, ducking into the refrigerator to
inspect the beverage selection.  He reached for a beer, then thought
better of it.  What if she wants me to leave, he thought.  He didn't
relish that prospect, but he knew it was a likely one.  It was still
early and he should wait and see how the rest of the evening played
out.

"You can have a beer, Mulder.  I'm not sending you home," she said
with amusement.

He glanced over at her smirking face and said, "Sure you're not
telepathic, Scully?"

She leaned against the counter, grinning back at him as he opened
his beer with an opener he'd found with no problem at all.  It was
strange the things he could remember about their life before his
abduction, she mused.  

"I don't have to read your mind to know what you're thinking,
Mulder.  I know you too well."

He slouched against the dishwasher, several yards away from her.  "I
think you've got the advantage, Scully.  You've got eight years of
interpretive observation.  I'm still trying to remember most of last
year."

The teakettle sang and she was still smiling as she threw a tea bag
in her mug.  She motioned toward the living room with her head, and
he followed her back out to the couch.  They sat close to one
another, knees almost touching.

She looked over at him, sensing his continuing apprehension.

"Mulder, relax.  I told you I'm not making you leave.  And take that
jacket off for goodness sake."  She then gave him a wicked smile and
added, "I'm not promising you anything about sleeping arrangements,
though."

He laughed out loud, relieved she was trying to lighten the
atmosphere.  He knew he wasn't completely absolved.  That's why they
were having this tete-a-tete on the couch.  

"I'm sorry, Scully," he told her, not wishing to waste another
moment without making a sincere apology.

She took another delicate sip of her tea, then placed her cup on the
coffee table, avoiding the OPR summons handily.  Her hand sought out
his free one and she curled her fingers into his palm.

"I know.  I'm... I wasn't feeling that great when we got home... and
I don't want you to think it was the subject of our discussion that
made me run away from you."

"I didn't think that, Scully.  I know you don't back down from
arguments," he said with obvious pride.

She ducked her head, feeling her cheeks burn at his words.  It was
impossible to stay angry at this man anymore.  He was stupid and
thoughtless and arrogant at times, but he knew exactly what to say to
back in her good graces.  

"No, I don't," she asserted, raising her eyes to meet his again.

Mulder took another swig of beer with his left hand, then set it
down on the table.  He wrapped both his hands around her left one and
brought it to his lips.  He kissed her tenderly, then lowered their
hands to his lap.

"I'm not going to make any career moves without your approval,
Scully.  It was the most logical idea to me at the time.  They can't
fire me if I've already resigned."

Scully nodded her head in agreement, then responded, "They can still
make things difficult for you.  What if they decide to declare you
AWOL the whole five months.  I think staying an agent until they've
decided this case is a stronger position.  If you really want to
leave, we can discuss that.  I don't know that I want to be a field
agent anymore.  Not with a baby to care for."

He raised his hand to her shoulder, kneading the tight muscles
there.  "You can teach at Quantico.  They would only send you out-of-
state occasionally."

"What will you do?" she asked.  

"Turn around, Scully.  I want to get both sides," he said, helping
her do just that.

Ecstatic little moans told Mulder he had hit all the right muscles. 
He kept massaging as he answered her question, "I can always teach
there, too.  Or at one of the universities.  I don't think that's a
problem.  Maybe I can take care of the baby."

Scully turned her head, eagerly meeting his eyes.  "Are you
serious?"  

Mulder nodded his head yes.  

"Really serious?"  One more nod in her direction.  

"I'd like that very much.  I was going to ask my mom, but--"

"It would be a lot safer for me to be Mr. Mom all day, Scully.  Your
mother is no match for the kind of people I'm worried about."

"Do you really believe a threat exists?  Krycek may have been
bullshitting us.  Maybe the Project is dead like he and the smoking
man."

"Maybe.  Maybe not.  I'd rather not take a chance on it.  Short of
changing our names and going into a witness protection program,
having one of us take care of the baby at all times is the best
solution.  But it's no guarantee of anything, Scully.  I don't know
what to tell you--things can still happen."

"I know... I know... but I don't want to do anything rash like go
underground, Mulder.  Leaving my Mom and my brothers behind would be
like a death in the family.  We can work with the Gunmen, try to find
out whether there's a threat to us--or anyone, for that matter."

Mulder put his hand on her hip, gently goading her to turn around. 
He covered both her hands with one of his own, then told her quietly,
"There may be no threat, Scully.  To us, or anyone.  But we won't
know until we do more research.  And you know we'll get it done. 
Bureau resources or not, we'll get it done."

"The hearing is Friday morning," she reminded him, apprehension
seeping into her equally subdued voice.

"All the cool kids will be there, Scully," he quipped, hoping to
disarm her fears.

A smile rejuvenated her face, erasing tiny lines and wrinkles Mulder
had been loath to see there.  He returned her smile, then without a
word, nestled her comfortably against his chest.

"Now, about those sleeping arrangements," he whispered softly in her
ear.  

Retaliation was immediate.  

"Hey!  Those are important organs down there!" he cried in mock
indignation.

Mulder pulled back from her, capturing both her hands in his own. 
Scully chuckled silently, beaming up at him with a high-wattage grin.
She struggled against his grip, but he held fast.

"Leggo!" she sputtered, suppressing laughter.

"Promise not to throw me out?" 

"Sure," she answered unconvincingly.

"Seal it with a kiss?" he prodded.

"Hmmm, maybe," she retorted, still smiling.

His eyebrows hitched in surprise.  "Not good enough for you?"

"Depends on the kiss," she threw back, with impish glee.

"Well, now--" he said, inching toward her.  

"Well, now, indeed," she replied.

The couch was empty that night.

fin

Almost Home (26/?)
By Shoshana

Friday
March 2nd, 2001
J. Edgar Hoover Building
9:22 a.m.

Scully brushed more imaginary lint off Mulder's Armani suit, the
third time since they'd taken their seats across from the hearing
room.  He reached over and grabbed her restless hand, lacing their
fingers together.

"Don't be nervous, Scully," he advised.

She gave his hand a little squeeze.  "I'm not nervous, Mulder.  I'm
anxious to get this over with."

"I am too," he responded, leaning closer so he could lower his
voice.  "Just remember what we agreed last night--nothing they can
say, nothing they can do--short of locking us up for perjury or
insubordination--and I doubt they'd be bold enough to do *that*--can
prevent us from achieving our goals.  We're going to find out what
happened to me and all those other abductees, whether the Bureau
cares to employ us or not."

Scully fingered the material of her maternity dress, a classically
tailored navy blue number her mother had insisted could be altered
after the baby was born.  She'd protested the price tag until Maggie
had offered to pay for it herself.  Scully wouldn't allow her to do
so--her mother had already shelled out a lot of money for their
small, impending wedding.

"You look nice," he whispered, repeating the compliment he'd paid
her that morning.  "I don't think they'll fire you." 
 
She smiled at the lopsided smirk on his face and replied, "They're
not going to fire you either, Mulder.  You haven't done anything
wrong.  Skinner will testify to that.  He may not want to tell the
board he saw a flying saucer, but I know he'll vouch for your sanity
the day you disappeared."

"Ha!  One of the few times he can!" Mulder jested, winning another
quick smile from her.  

"Agent Scully?"  The meeting secretary was standing outside the door
of the conference room, facing the two of them.  

Scully nodded at her, then allowed Mulder to help her rise from
their bench.

"Behave," she admonished.  

She knew both Deputy Director Kersh and Assistant Director Cassidy
were on this Professional Review board and she wanted him to tread
lightly during his testimony.  The other members were relatively
unknown to them, in spite of Mulder's propensity to get pulled in
front of OPR committees.  They had a good chance of keeping their
jobs *and* the X-Files if Kersh and Cassidy could be swayed toward
their side.  The auditor had been unable to find misuse of funds last
year--that was why the X-Files had remained open during Mulder's
absence.  All she and Mulder had to do today was justify the
expensive manhunt last fall for the missing agent.  

Scully believed she had enough evidence from Dr. Werber's
hypnotherapy session and Mulder's recent hospital visits to
corroborate some minor changes in his physiology over the last five
months.  They hadn't been obvious at first, but the neurologist had
finally reviewed tests from before and after his traumatic brain
surgery of October 1999.  He'd then compared them to recent scans
done in the last week.  Someone had been experimenting on Mulder's
brain--his massive amnesia had been the most obvious side effect.  

Scully was prepared to disclose that to the committee today if it
would disperse the cloud hovering around his disappearance last fall.
She knew this revelation could result in permanent desk duty but they
might have to chance it--he was better off employed at Hoover than
not at all.  

She'd considered his offer to become 'Mr. Mom' seriously, weighing
his complete lack of experience in the area of child care against his
fierce determination to protect his child.  She wanted Mulder to have
a choice, even one he wasn't altogether thrilled about--a desk job.

They'd discussed that possibility last night and he agreed to
disclose the extent of his amnesia and his episode of seizures.  It
was not definitive proof he'd been held captive, but it had to give
the board food for thought.  Mulder had been kidnapped once before by
Spender--they had well documented proof of that.  It wasn't a giant
leap for intelligent minds to make that he had been used for similar
purposes again.

Scully gave Mulder a parting smile, then tried her best to make a
graceful entrance to the hearing room.  Her new outfit helped--it was
modest--with an empire waist and white collar.  She looked more like
a schoolgirl than a Federal Agent, at least from the waist up. 
Beneath the neatly gathered tucks, she was a very pregnant woman.  A
male agent she didn't recognize pulled a chair out for her, then
receded to the back of the room.  Blushing slightly, she clenched her
hands into fists underneath the table, willing herself not to be
nervous and not to let her hormones get the best of her.

Jana Cassidy was apparently the chairperson of the committee,
addressing Scully first, "Good morning, Ms. Scully.  I'm happy to see
you again.  We've spoken to your supervisor, AD Skinner, and we have
just a few questions for you today.  I'd like to inform you right
away that this hearing will not result in the closing of the X-Files.
Their role in the organization has already been proven by an
extensive audit and we are not here to debate their viability.  We do
need to question you about your partner's absence.  As his doctor,
you are well qualified to give an opinion about his past and present
health problems and how they may be related to the time he was
missing.  Please tell us what you have found out since he returned
home last week."

Scully opened the file folder she had been clutching since leaving
the bench outside, took a deep breath and said, "My partner, Fox
Mulder, was abducted from a forest near Bellefleur, Oregon last
September.  His supervisor, AD Skinner was with him and I'm sure he
has already told you the details of that event.  I, and my temporary
partner, along with AD Skinner have been using the resources of the
bureau to search for him after an initial agency-wide manhunt came to
a dead end last fall.  We did not discover any new leads, but were
able to monitor hospitals and organizations around the country, and
distribute to them Agent Mulder's physical description.  Fortunately,
he was returned by his captors to the Oregon woods, relatively
unharmed.  He does have certain health problems--treatable ones--
which should have no impact upon his duties as a Federal agent.  I
believe that he will be able to return to full duty status within six
weeks time."

"What kind of health problems?"  Deputy Director Kersh asked.

Scully swallowed the lump in her throat and responded--she really
had no choice now.  "He is prone to seizures, treatable by a drug
used primarily for epilepsy.  The seizures are a result of some form
of brain experimentation by his kidnappers.  We cannot determine
precisely what was done to him, but we do know how to control the
resultant seizures.  He has also undergone hypnotherapy once to try
to remember the circumstances of his captivity.  It's possible he may
do so again, but only after seeing a therapist for several months
time."

"So he is in reasonably good health otherwise?" AD Walker asked. 
Scully knew him by sight, but not by name.

"Yes.  He's slightly underweight, but that isn't a problem.  We've
run extensive tests on him and his neurologist thinks he has the
seizures under control.  I have no doubt he will be able to do every
activity he was able to do before in the field."

"Does the bureau have copies of these medical records we can look
through?"  AD Cassidy asked.

"Yes, of course.  They have all been forwarded to his personnel
files," Scully responded.

"Agent Scully, you are on maternity leave.  Do you foresee returning
to work on the X-Files after your leave is over?" asked AD Chen.

"I haven't made a decision yet.  I may take a leave of absence until
my child is older."

Scully knew the board would never ask about her marital status in a
public forum such as this.  AD Chen's question was reasonable, but it
made her nervous.  What if they were planning on separating Mulder
and her when they both returned to the X-Files?  They would be
married by then, subject to bureau rules and regulations.  

"That will be all, Ms. Scully.  Good luck with the baby," AD Cassidy
concluded.  

"Thank you," Scully replied, fairly stunned that she was free to go.
It hadn't been that bad, she reflected.  And she hadn't revealed a
thing about Mulder's amnesia.  Of course, the board could peruse the
medical documents and discover any details they wished.  She was
willing to bet this would be the end of the busy bureaucrats'
interest in Mulder's medical condition.

She pushed herself away from the table and stood up, still feeling a
little unnerved by the whole experience.  She grabbed her file and
was escorted to a seat in the back of the room by the administrative
assistant who had summoned her to the conference room.  Apparently
there would be no problem if she remained during Mulder's testimony. 
She had spotted Skinner earlier, sitting thoughtfully in a far corner
of the room.

Mulder entered the hearing room, his eyes flitting around the room
for a glimpse of Scully.  He smiled briefly when they made visual
contact, then sat down in the chair behind the witness table.  His
finely tailored suit felt a little too large for him and he shrugged
his shoulders to adjust the length of his woolen sleeves.

Jana Cassidy allowed him a minute to get comfortable in the 'hot
seat,' pretending to shuffle through a file folder full of Mulder's
medical records.  She'd already scrutinized all the materials therein
earlier that morning--she just wanted to allow her witness to relax a
bit.  

She remembered Mulder well from his OPR hearing in 1998.  Although
she found his extraterrestrial theories hard to believe, she
respected much of the work he'd accomplished on the X-Files.  He and
his partner had more triumphs than failures over the past eight
years, apprehending some of the most elusive criminals ever pursued
by the bureau.  

In preparation for this meeting, she'd found herself playing devil's
advocate, championing Mulder's point of view in an argument with
Deputy Director Kersh.  It was a calculated risk to engage in verbal
conflict with the higher ranked bureaucrat.  In essence, she had
nothing to lose--she was one of the few highly respected female ADs
in the bureau, with fifteen years tenure in her position.

Cassidy's stance for Mulder was one of the reasons Kersh had been
relatively quiet during Skinner and Scully's testimonies.  She hoped
he remained so; from what she'd heard so far there were no grounds
for either closing the X-Files or censuring Agent Mulder.  Both
options had been tossed out by DD Kersh during their preparatory work
session.  Fortunately, he'd backed off when he'd seen Skinner's
account of Mulder's disappearance in Oregon and the extensive medical
records from Mulder's recent hospitalizations.

The hearing itself was a formality--the committee was prepared to
reinstate Mulder as an agent if no contradictory evidence was
uncovered during their proceedings.  Naturally, this was a well-kept
secret among them.  Skinner suspected as much, but had been reluctant
to approach either Mulder or Scully with that information.  

He'd been burned too many times trying to interfere with bureau
matters, and he was fairly sure he'd done everything in his own power
to legitimize Mulder's adventure to Oregon and subsequent mysterious
disappearance.  Skinner knew his agent well enough by now--he had
confidence he'd hold his own in front of these bureaucrats.  Plus, if
Kersh gave Mulder crap in the hearing, the newly energized AD would
intercede on his behalf.  He owed it to Mulder--and to Scully--after
feeling he'd lost one of his best agents in a Pacific Northwest
forest five months ago.

AD Cassidy began the proceeding:  "Hello, Agent Mulder.  We're here
to discuss your reinstatement to active duty.  For the record, we'd
like to hear a personal account of your ordeal the last five months. 
We've reviewed your medical records and noted the testimony of both
your supervising AD and your partner, Dana Scully.  Please tell us
whatever you can about the time you were missing."

Mulder was a little taken aback; he'd thought for sure this was a
disciplinary hearing--one which would result in some level of penalty
against him.  He expected to either lose the X-Files or be thrown out
on his ass.  The summons he'd received by courier the other day
certainly implied that.  Maybe he did have a friend in the FBI, he
thought to himself with immense relief.

"Would you like me to tell you what I *believe* happened to me or
what I can *remember* happened to me?"  Mulder asked, still unsure
what the committee desired from him.

"A little of both would be fine, Agent," Deputy Director Kersh urged.

Mulder bowed his head, pressing his fingertips to the tabletop in an
intense moment of concentration.  Finally, he pushed against the hard
surface, in imitation of the beginning of a clocked race.

"I don't remember very much of the last five months.  One session of
hypnotic regression last week didn't yield much--in fact I question
any memories recovered at that time.  I believe I was held against my
will in an institutional setting.  I don't think I was mistreated,
but I do think I was studied by my abductors.  I don't have any
concrete evidence of what was done to my mind, but I did have what
can be described as a series of seizures last weekend in Rhode
Island.  Fortunately, I have recovered and the prognosis is
optimistic--I don't think I will experience any more episodes in the
future.  I'm willing to wait a reasonable period of time to prove my
medical fitness.  I'm sure Agent Scully has gone into that and I
won't repeat her findings."

Mulder paused, biting his lip in concentration.  He continued,
gesturing with the palms of his hands, "I don't know what else to
tell you.  I'm planning on seeing a therapist, to explore ways of
recovering my time lost and cope with any possible post traumatic
stress.  I may take a leave of absence in the near future, but I'd
like to reserve the right to continue on the X-Files."

"Your partner also mentioned a leave of absence.  Would yours
coincide with hers by any chance?" AD Cassidy asked.

Mulder became slightly flustered.  He hadn't wanted to get into this
in a public setting.  If they wanted to separate them after their
marriage, he'd have to live with that, but he didn't relish drawing
attention to Scully's pregnancy and her currently unwed status in
front of this audience.

"I think there's a good chance mine will begin immediately after her
maternity leave is over," he said.

It was most the most diplomatic thing he could think to say.  He was
under no obligation to provide more personal information, but he felt
the committee should know that either he or Scully would have
guardianship of the X-Files in the near future.  He could manage the
division from behind a desk until Scully wanted to return to work, if
at all.  One of them would be taking care of the baby, he knew that
for a fact.  

"I'm sure everything can be worked out to everyone's satisfaction,"
Cassidy replied with equal tact.

"I hope so," Mulder responded as confidently as he could.  

He knew they wouldn't have to face the married agents dilemma for
months, perhaps a year.  Maybe never, if he could justify it.  There
were more important issues in their life that took priority until
then--they had to find out why he had been abducted and what the
aliens had planned for their world.  Mulder certainly couldn't tell
the committee about those questions today; he didn't want to be held
up to ridicule if he could avoid it.

"I think we've covered all the items on our agenda today, Agent
Mulder.  I don't see any problem with your reinstatement at the
moment.  We will be reviewing the findings of this committee and
sending them to the Director.  I'm sure you will hear from the Bureau
soon," AD Cassidy concluded.  "We'll adjourn the hearing now."

With that pronouncement, all present slowly came back to life. 
Chairs squeaked as they were pushed back from conference tables and
muted conversation began in all corners of the room.  Mulder raced
over to Scully's side, grinning widely.  He had to restrain every
muscle of his body that wanted to take her into his arms.  Her face
reflected his relief this ordeal was over, but he knew how
undignified an overt display of affection would seem to her.  

Instead, he helped her rise from her seat, then guided her with one
hand toward the still seated figure of Skinner across the room.  He
was conversing with someone beside him and excused himself as soon as
he saw his agents coming toward him.  He rose and extended his hand
to Mulder, who reciprocated the gesture with a smile.

"Thank you, sir.  I'm sure your testimony was crucial here," Mulder
told his supervisor.

"I owed you, Mulder.  I owed you both all the support I could come
up with.  Why don't you come to the office and we'll start the
paperwork.  I'd like to see you back whenever you feel comfortable,"
Skinner replied.

Mulder looked over at Scully for approval.  He had no idea what she
had planned for their afternoon; he would have been pleased to go
back to one of their apartments and blow off the rest of the day.

"That sounds like a good plan, Mulder.  That, and a corned beef
sandwich from the deli down the street."

"See, sir... from bee pollen to corned beef sandwiches in just six
months--" Mulder quipped.

Scully swatted him with her file folder and scolded, "Mulder!"

She then turned to Skinner and said, "Thanks, sir.  For today and
every day you helped me out since last fall."  She tossed her head
toward Mulder and commented, "Maybe you can send him to a training
seminar while he's desk bound--one for headstrong, insubordinate
agents--"

"Not me!" objected Mulder.

"I think the gentleman doth protest too much," Skinner parried back.
"Come on, you two.  It will be nice to have you back in the office."

fin


Almost Home (27/?)
By Shoshana

Saturday
March 3rd, 2001
8:00 a.m.
Scully's apartment

Mulder woke to find Scully's side of the bed empty, sun streaming
through a tiny crack between the still drawn drapes.  He could hear
his beloved's voice from the other room, gradually escalating in
volume and aggravation.

"How could you, mother?!?  I thought we already agreed--you even
promised!... uh, huh... uh, huh...  Yeah... I guess so...  Oh, for
pete's sake, all right!...  No, Mom, I'm not mad...  No, I don't
think he'll be mad either... You want to what?... Are you sure I need
that?  You're positive?... Oh, all right...  Okay... I'll be ready by
noon, Mom."

Scully slammed the phone down into its cradle, still fuming at her
mother's presumptuousness.  Maggie Scully had taken the liberty of
moving their wedding from the living room of her home in Maryland to
the chapel of a local Unitarian church.  

Every Scully cousin in existence had shown interest in the nuptials
after Tara got the word out in one fateful E-mail announcement.  The
capacity crisis had arisen while Mulder and Scully were in Bellefleur
earlier in the week--Maggie didn't want to disappoint their extended
family by not having a large enough venue for either the ceremony or
the reception.  

When her daughter had returned from her investigation in Oregon,
she'd called her mother to tell her about the OPR hearing on Friday. 
Mrs. Scully knew better than to broach the subject until her daughter
and future son-in-law were done with that ordeal.  She'd had no idea
what the outcome of the hearing would be, but being ever optimistic,
she'd made the reservations anyway.

Maggie had waited until the last minute to notify her--Saturday
morning was a week away from the actual event.  She knew she could
sweet talk her daughter into the change in plans, including a trip to
the mall for a suitable dress to go with the new location.  It had
been surprisingly easy to convince Dana to go along with her plan,
even with some token, half-hearted resistance.

Mulder moseyed into the dining room after going to the bathroom and
splashing some water on his face.  He mentally prepared himself for
whatever debacle her mother had planned for them.  

Scully looked suitably glum, but not devastated.  She was sitting at
the table, thoughtfully playing with the salt and pepper shakers. 
Mulder approached her from behind, wrapping both arms around her
shoulders and kissing the crown of her head.  

Curbing his apprehension, he asked right away, "What's your mom got
up her sleeve for us, Scully?"  

His light tone conveyed a nonchalant attitude concerning the
impending occasion.  Scully relaxed visibly, enjoying the impromptu
massage Mulder was giving her stiff neck and back.

"Oh, oh that's good," she moaned.  "Hmmm, I needed this, Mulder."

Mulder sank to his knees, continuing his ministrations from behind.  

"Tell me, Scully.  What's up?" 

"I'm sorry about this, Mulder.  My mother has assumed control of all
our wedding plans--not that I didn't encourage her in the first
place.  I'm too pregnant and too busy to plan something like this--
and she's done it twice, once for Bill, once for Charlie.  To make a
long story short, my aunts, uncles, cousins and distant relatives all
wanted to attend.  So Mom rented a chapel at a Georgetown Unitarian
church."

"That sounds nice," he responded blithely.

Scully turned around in her chair, meeting his eyes for the first
time that morning.  "I thought you'd hate that."  She reached over,
stroking his cheek with one finger.  "You don't hate that?" she asked
tentatively.

Mulder's eyes matched his smile as he replied, "Why would I object
to getting married anywhere you'll have me, Scully?"

Her cheeks felt warm with mild embarrassment.  She'd thought it
would be more of an issue for him than her.  Obviously, getting
married in a church wasn't as big a deal as she'd thought it might
be.

"You don't mind the chapel?" she asked softly.

"Why would I mind?  Because it's more formal than your mom's living
room?  Or because it's a religious setting?  Scully, I was willing to
get married in the Catholic church."

"I thought it would be easier for us to go Unitarian.  Or at least
my mom did.  She suggested it."

"I know.  I was half asleep when you discussed it on the way from
Rhode Island."  Mulder took a deep breath, exhaling with a sigh. 
"You can still change your mind--we can wait if you like."

"No, no.  I don't want to upset my mom's intricate plans."  She
stroked his hair away from his forehead and leaned over to kiss him
lightly.  "I have to go shopping with mom this afternoon.  She wants
me to buy a dress, a real wedding dress."

"Can you, uh, do that?" he asked, gently rubbing her pregnant 
belly.  

"My mother thinks of everything, Mulder.  She's located a maternity
shop that has everything the well dressed and knocked up bride will
need."

She giggled at the absurdity of their conversation and he answered
her with a broad smile and a satisfied chuckle.

"Scully, I'm sure glad Bill and I made our peace right away.  I sure
as hell don't need the shit beat out of me--are your other relatives
going to be okay with this?"

"I don't think they'll tar and feather you, Mulder--if that's what
you mean--" she chortled.  "And they are coming to the wedding of
their own free will.  Stop worrying so much," she assured him.

Mulder reached over to frame her face in his hands and replied,
"Okay, boss.  But you know, Scully... we're both so new at this
family thing... I just want to make a good impression on your
relatives."

Scully covered his hands with her own, caressing his knuckles
gently.  "You'll do fine.  And we have a whole week more to adjust to
the idea.  I wish my mom had left well enough alone, but that's never
going to happen, I'm afraid."

Mulder lowered his hands to Scully's hips, smiling fondly as he
caressed her soft curves.  She put her hands on his shoulders as he
kneeled before her, kneading his muscles with care.  Mulder gave her
a sly smile and gathered her closer, lying his head on the side of
her stomach.

"When's your mom coming, Scully?" he muttered into her robe.

"Noon.  What's it to ya?" she responded lightly.  

She thought they might be on the same wavelength this morning--she
wanted to ignore reality for a few more hours with a warm Mulder in
her bed.

He turned his head so she could see him grinning against her side. 
"Plenty of time for some bedrest, Scully--"

"Yeah, I'm sure I'll get plenty of rest," she quipped, smoothing her
hands through his thick dark hair.  Her hands stilled at the back of
his neck so that her thumbs teased the thickest part of his earlobes
playfully.  "Help a poor pregnant lady back to her bed, mister?" 

Mulder chuckled, then rose slowly from his knees onto somewhat shaky
legs.  Both knees made an ominous cracking sound as he used the
kitchen chair to boost him to a standing position.

"Argh!  Are you sure you want a decrepit old man for your husband,
Scully?" he queried.  He regained his equilibrium, then offered her
his hands.

"Are you sure you want a cranky old woman for your wife?" she
returned.

Mulder laughed, "Scully, you are a lot of things, but old you're
not.  You'll never look old to me."  

He wrapped his arms around her tightly and pressed his face against
the softness of her neck.  Scully was tongue-tied for several
minutes, touched by his sweet, sincere statement.  They weren't the
first words of endearment he'd ever said to her; yet they seemed to
hit her like a ton of bricks at that moment.  

She buried her cheek against his chest, concealing the rosy glow of
her face.  She felt silly and hormonal, adolescent and womanly all at
once.  Mulder was even more demonstrative with his affection than
he'd been before his abduction.  

Perhaps losing a whole chunk of his memories from the last eight
years had changed him, made him even less inhibited, if that were at
all possible.  He'd always outpaced her in his ability to show his
feelings; she made a silent vow to meet or exceed the flood of
devotion he directed toward her.

Mulder eased up on his secure but soothing grip around her upper
torso.  He grazed his fingers beneath her breasts with a tantalizing
playfulness and met her eyes with an unspoken question.  She answered
by extending him her hand, soliciting some assistance out of her 
chair.  A satisfying shudder of happiness shot through him as he led 
Scully back to their bedroom.  

*********************************************************************
2:00 p.m.
Maternal Instinct clothing store
A mall in suburban Maryland

"It's one of these two, Mom.  I don't like any of the rest of them,"
Scully said decisively.

"Okay, honey... It's so hard to choose between them... but I prefer
the lilac one," Margaret Scully responded.

The three-quarters length dress had the faintest hint of lavender in
its silky fabric.  Lace adorned the full-length sleeves and scoop
neck.  It covered Scully's stomach in a simple straightforward 
manner--the design didn't seek to disguise her shape, nor did it 
cling with undue emphasis on her girth.

"Yeah, you're right, Mom.  You always were good at picking out
formals for me in high school and even college."  Scully smiled
pensively.  "Although I didn't have much time for those kind of
events in medical school, did I?"

"I think you may have gone out two or three times, honey.  It's
getting to be a little vague now.  Honey?"

"Yeah, Mom?" Scully began to fold the sleeves of the special dress
neatly against its back.

"I have something to ask you... I've been reluctant to do so...  I
hope you don't think me an interfering grandmother--" Margaret asked,
lowering her eyes at the end of her sentence.

Scully stopped fondling the hand of the fabric and tried to catch
her mother's gaze.

"What, Mom?  You know you can ask me anything--at least I hope you
do now.  I know we haven't always been completely frank with one
another."

Maggie Scully took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly, then spoke
with groping hesitance,  "Well, I've been wondering... Dana... aren't
there people out there who might not be too pleased to see your baby
survive?"

Scully grimaced in an expression of extreme anguish.  It was
horrific enough for her and Mulder to entertain these thoughts from
time to time--why should her mother have to be subjected to this
misery also?

"Mom, I don't know if I can talk about this--"

"You don't have to, honey.  I just wanted you to know how worried I
am sometimes.  If, if it would help matters--I was going to suggest
to you... don't consider my feelings if you and Mulder have to
disappear--"

Scully's chest tightened with anxiety, her legs felt like they would
give out beneath her.  She used the wall of the dressing room to
guide her toward the other straightback chair provided for customers.
Maggie jumped up to help her, reluctantly sitting back down when her
daughter shooed her away.  

"Mother!  I don't want to have this conversation!  No matter what
you say, it would kill you if we left now.  I can't do that to you,
Mom.  I can't take your grandchild away from you because of some
nebulous threat from an organization which may not even exist."

Mrs. Scully threw her hands in the air in a gesture of acquiescence.
"Okay, honey.  I shouldn't have brought this up.  But you know I'd do
anything for you and Fox.  That includes losing you for awhile to
protect you."

Scully's head sunk to her chest, eyes closing in exasperation.  She
would never convince her mother they were safe for now.  Even she
knew that was an unreasonable expectation.  Only after she and Mulder
could study the abductees, including Mulder himself, could they know
for certain why he had been abducted and whether their child was at
risk also.

"Please, Mom.  If there's anything you can do, we'll ask you to help
us.  Right now, I just want to concentrate on this happy occasion
you've done such a great job planning for us.  I don't want you to
worry about me, or Mulder.  Or the baby."

Scully stretched her arms out to her mother, beckoning her from
across the room.  Mrs. Scully rushed to her side, embracing her
tightly against her side.  She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss
on her forehead, then framed Scully's face in her hands.

"Okay, sweetheart.  I promise not to worry.  I just wanted you to
know--anything you need or want--don't hesitate to ask."

"You've already done everything you possibly can for us, Mom.  The
wedding is going to be beautiful, and it's all your doing.  Come on,
let's get going.  Maybe we can catch some of those biscotti you like
down at the coffee shop."

Scully allowed her mother to help her up, then grabbed the barely
purple dress from the corner of the room.  Maggie grabbed her
daughter's purse from the floor and followed her out to the register.
The transaction took about ten minutes, then they were out in the
shopping mall once again, headed for a shoe store.

"Did you decide how long you're going to take maternity leave?"
Maggie finally asked while her daughter slipped on the seventh pair
of shoes that day.

"Oh, I'm not sure, Mom.  Mulder says he'd like to take care of the
baby--but you know... he has the best intentions... but I'm not sure
if he'll be happy staying home all the time.  I'll see what happens
after he returns to work.  If his body cooperates, he might be back
in the field sooner than you think.  He'll need a new partner, I
suppose.  That will be the hardest thing for both of us."

"You had a temporary partner, didn't you?" Maggie asked.

"Yes, but that felt different.  Mulder wasn't around to observe the
dynamics of our partnership.  I'm sure it will be difficult for me to
see someone new go out in the field with him, but there's no
alternative.  I don't see anything wrong with you or the Lone Gunmen
babysitting once in awhile, but we really want to be hands on
parents.  After all, we both waited so long to have children--"

"Honey, I'm all for either you or Mulder staying home with the baby.
Just keep in mind how loved this child will be.  I bet you'll even be
able to enlist Mr. Skinner's help with him."

Scully laughed at the prospect of her boss changing her son's
diapers.  "Yeah, I'm sure he'd really be comfortable with that, Mom. 
Of course, they may resemble one another for a few months if our
little one looks like Bill did as a baby!"

Mrs. Scully smiled at the memory of Bill, Jr. with little or no hair
for the first six weeks of his life.  "He still hates those photos. 
Dana, those look fine.  Why don't you take them and we'll stop at the
coffee shop.  I promised Tara and Bill I'd be home by six and it's
already three p.m.  I don't mean to rush you--"

"No problem, Mom.  I knew you couldn't stay all day.  I don't like
you driving home in the dark by yourself anyway."

"Aren't they providing extra protection for you and Mulder?" 

"Not anymore.  We asked Skinner to drop it yesterday.  I guess it
may sound foolish, but I'm not as worried as I was a week ago.  I
still carry my weapon on me, if that's what you're wondering about,
Mom."

"I was just curious, honey.  I'm not trying to pry or make a
judgment call.  Well, let's get going.  I can almost taste the coffee
now."

Scully and Margaret paid for her shoes, then stopped at the mall
coffee shop.  A half hour later, they were at Mrs. Scully's vehicle
loading the dress and shoes into the back seat.  The parking garage
was practically empty that day; it was too early for the Easter rush
and long past Valentine's day.  

Once the items were loaded in the car, Maggie started to help her
daughter into the passenger's seat.  Scully adjusted her seat belt
and smiled up at her mother when she was done.  Before Mrs. Scully
could step away and shut the door securely on her unsuspecting
daughter, a van pulled up beside them.

Scully knew what was happening and struggled to reach her weapon,
but the ambush was too well planned and executed.  Within minutes
both women were subdued by their captors, then immobilized by stun
guns.  A quarter hour later, Margaret Scully emerged from a temporary
haze to find herself seated in the front seat of her car, without her
daughter beside her.

fin


Almost Home (28/?)
By Shoshana

Saturday
March 3rd, 2001
4:00 p.m.
Mall parking garage

Mulder had no badge to flash at the cops surrounding the crime scene
but he recognized the officer in charge, Derrick Johnson.  Years ago
he had assisted the suburban police department with a string of
murders that may or may not have been committed by one individual. 
The crime remained unsolved to this day but Mulder remembered the
rookie cop well.  Now a lieutenant, he crossed the parking lot to
lead him past the black and white cruisers and toward Mrs. Scully's
car.

"Agent Mulder!  We've been trying to get a hold of you at home!"  

"Didn't Mrs. Scully tell you?  She dialed Scully's cell phone and
managed to tell me what happened-- just barely though.  She must have
dropped the phone after that but I was already on my way by then,"
replied Mulder.

His voice shook with anger and fear despite his attempt to appear
calm and rational in public.  He dug his hands deep into the pockets
of his coat, forming tight fists to keep from screaming.  His heart
had been beating double time since Margaret Scully's phone call less
than a half hour ago, and every brain synapse had been totally
devoted to making the trip to the mall as swiftly as possible.

"No, she must have passed out, Agent.  I just got off the phone with
AD Skinner though.  I guess you talked to him after you dialed 911 a
half hour ago.  He's sending a task force immediately--should be here
within minutes.  Dana Scully is your partner?" Johnson questioned.

"Yes.  And my fiancee, Derrick," he said, dropping the formality
intentionally.  Johnson was just being polite under the 
circumstances--they'd become good basketball playing buddies after
the case years ago and addressed each other without their titles on
the court.

"She is?  Skinner didn't say that but he did tell me she was seven
months pregnant.  Mulder, we're doing whatever we can to canvass the
neighborhoods and look for any abandoned vehicles.  We have a
forensic crew coming out as we speak.  When the fibbies get here I'll
know what to do next.  Do you want to see Mrs. Scully?  I think the
paramedics said she was coming around slowly a few minutes ago."

Derrick motioned toward an ambulance parked nearby, then steered
Mulder in its direction with a firm hand on his shoulder.  They
continued to talk as they walked there

"Mulder, we're gonna find her.  I just know it.  You've gotta
believe that," he assured his old friend.

Mulder cracked an uneasy smile for a few seconds, then shook his
head in dismay.  "I should never have let her go without me.  I
should never have let her call off the bodyguards.  There's a lot
more to this than I can tell you now, Derrick.  I don't think her
kidnappers will harm her, but it doesn't make it any less harrowing
an experience."

"You think you know who these guys are?  That might help.  Come on,
Mulder.  Let's see Mrs. Scully before the Feds get here."

Mrs. Scully was sitting up and drinking a cup of water when Mulder
appeared at the ambulance's tailgate.

"Fox!" she exclaimed through tears that wouldn't cease.  "They took
her!"  

She tried to get up from the gurney but the female paramedic
cautioned her, "Don't get up yet, Ma'am.  You need to rest a few
minutes more."

"Can I climb on through?" Mulder asked.  At the technician's nod, he
clambered into the vehicle and sat down on a gurney opposite Mrs.
Scully.

"Fox, we were just talking about this--I had just asked her about
your safety before we left the dress shop," she told him rapidly. 
"What's going on?" she added, her voice lowering to barely a 
whisper.  

Mulder dug into his jacket's inner pocket and offered her his
handkerchief.  He shook his head and faced her with sad eyes.

"I don't think they'll harm her, Margaret.  I don't think either of
us are much good to them dead.  I think they'll keep her until
they're through testing her and the baby--then give me a call."

"You're not going to pick her up alone, are you?" she wondered
incredulously.

"I think I'll have to.  I think that's the only way."  Mulder leaned
closer and whispered softly, "Don't mention this, Margaret.  When the
Feds get here they'll insist I stay out of the way and off the case. 
They know I won't and I also know they won't try to keep me chained
to a desk somewhere.  Skinner should be here soon.  I called him as
soon as I heard from you and made a 911 call."

"Have you called Bill?  Fox, even if you haven't gotten along in the
past--I think you should call him at the base.  He needs to know
right away," she pleaded.

"Here's my phone, Mrs. Scully.  Please call him for me.  I just
spotted Skinner pulling up in the lot.  I better go talk to him.  Do
you remember anything?  A physical description of the kidnappers?"

"No, I'm sorry, Fox.  It happened so fast.  I knew Dana was reaching
for her gun but it's so awkward when you're that pregnant," she
replied, her voice breaking on her last word.  "You go... I'm sure
you need to talk to the AD before they can proceed," she concluded,
taking his proffered phone.

"Okay, I'll be back in a few minutes to see how you're doing and to
get the phone.  Lie down and rest, would you?" 

"I will.  You go now," she said, gently pushing him toward the
ambulance door.

Skinner was dressed casually in a turtleneck and jeans.  He ran over
to Mulder as soon as he spotted him.

"Mulder!  What does Mrs. Scully say?"

Mulder sounded as dejected as he felt.  "Not much.  It was well
planned.  I'm sure of that.  I don't think they meant to harm either
of them but I have a pretty good idea what they want from Scully,
Sir.  They'll do tests on her and release her later today if my guess
is on the money.  I think this is nothing but a waiting game from
here on in."

"We'll be combing these neighborhoods anyway, Mulder.  Maybe they'll
leave some clue."  Skinner put his hand on his agent's shoulder. 
"You know I can't put you on the task force--you're not fully
reinstated.  I can let you participate as an observer though.  You
have a weapon with you?"

"Old service weapon, Sir," he responded, flipping his jacket open
for a fraction of a second to reveal its presence.

"It's good to have, but you better be discreet," he dictated softly.
"You think they'll call you?" he asked in an even softer tone.

Mulder nodded affirmatively, then studied the tips of his sneakers
for a brief moment.  "I have to believe that, Skinner.  If I can't
hold on to that--there's not much hope--"  

His voice broke and he turned abruptly from his boss's scrutiny for
a good minute.  When he turned back, Skinner was still standing
there, fists curled against his sides, expression grim.

"There's always hope, agent.  Let's go talk to the new arrivals and
get a look at the condition of scene."

Skinner put his hand on Mulder's shoulder for a few seconds, to lend
moral support as much as to guide him toward the waiting task force.

*********************************************************************
Warehouse
Unknown location
5:00 p.m.

Scully woke slowly, a strong medicinal odor assaulting her before
she could open her eyes.  She was tired and groggy, still feeling the
effects of some mild sedative.  Bodies bustled around her, obviously
preparing for some intended procedure.

Panic rose through her with the realization she was the patient in
question.  Her eyes flew open, then closed again tightly, aching from
the too bright light overhead.  She tried to move her hands and feet,
but couldn't--wrist and ankle restraints bound her to the padded 
table.

Her eyelids fluttered open once again, determined to regain
consciousness before anything was done to her child.  The room spun
for a few minutes as she took in the objects and personnel around
her.  She didn't dare lift her head until the vertigo stopped.

A woman's voice across the room caught her attention and she pivoted
her head in that direction.  Recognition forced bile up from her
digestive tract; she fought the impulse to vomit her last meal.

"You fucking bitch!" Scully spat at the well-dressed woman.  "You're
going to kill my baby!"

The blond woman nodded at her subordinate, then strolled casually
closer to the examining table.

"Quite the opposite, Agent Scully.  We've done everything we can to
insure your safety.  Your baby is alive and well."

"Let me go!  You have no right to do this!  You have no right to 
touch me or my baby!"

Marita shook her head slowly, a half-smile etched on her face. 
"We're not going to harm you, Agent.  We have every intention of
keeping you and your partner happy and healthy for the rest of your
lives."

"What do you want from us?  Our baby is normal.  There's nothing
unusual about him at all.  I've already had an amnio done.  I've done
DNA tests.  I've had ultrasounds.  What could you possibly need to
know that would necessitate this, this *kidnapping*!" Scully
protested vehemently.

Scully tried to modulate the tone of her voice, hoping beyond hope
she could still talk Covarrubias out of harming her child.  It was
useless.  Her words flew out like venom-tipped arrows despite her
best interests.  She could not, would not, control her outrage with
this woman.

"Agent Scully," Marita repeated calmly, pulling up a round stool on
coasters to sit on.  "If I had asked you to submit to these simple
tests--would you have?"

Scully just glared at her, undisguised wrath in her eyes.

"That's what I thought.  You know, you have to understand that we
can save humanity with the child's antibodies.  I didn't want to do
it this way.  You know I had no other option."

"Your option should have been to stay the fuck away from me and my
child!  I'm not a lab rat!  You of all people should know what it's
like!" Scully shouted back.

Marita bent her head toward her chest, sighed deeply, then lifted
her eyes back to Scully.  "I do.  I know what it's like.  But I have
an obligation, a duty to find a vaccine for the coming plague.  I
know you and Agent Mulder are planning on studying the problem but
you are so far behind the research we've done--we need to speed
things up.  There will be no future for your family or mine if we
don't develop the vaccine now."

She parted her lab coat, revealing the growing curve beneath.  "I
have everything to gain by saving the world, Agent Scully.  This
child is the last thing I have of Alex.  You may not have liked him;
there was a time when I hated him passionately.  But I grew to
understand him, to trust him and follow him.  He was trying to save
us all."

Scully pursed her lips in thought, trying to recall every encounter
she and Mulder had ever had with this woman.  She had no reason to
trust her, none at all.  She didn't want to be led astray by the same
line of altruistic bullshit the Cigarette Smoking Man had fed her.

She looked around the room more closely now, scrutinizing the
medical equipment and supplies waiting to be utilized.  They were
going to do an amnio on her, and an ultrasound--whether she liked it
or not.  Struggling against them would potentially harm the baby; she
had to submit to their demands upon her body.

Hatred rose within her chest, tightening the muscles until she
willed herself to breathe again.  She swallowed hard, banishing her
nausea back to the pit of her stomach.  She had to get control of
herself.  She had no choice.

"Will you release me as soon as you have your precious tests?"
Scully tilted her head toward the equipment across the room.

"You have my word," Marita responded with the same chilly composure
she'd maintained throughout the conversation.  "Agent Mulder will be
notified where to pick you up.  I reiterate, you will not be harmed
here."

"Why now?  Why did you wait so long to take me?  Why not before
Mulder came back?" Scully asked with a touch of sarcasm.

Marita bit her lip in thought for a second then told her, "There was
some disagreement before his return about when to do the tests...
that obstacle fell with Spender's death."  She looked away for a few
more seconds, tamping down her emotions.  "Alex had approached you,
warned you about the others.  If--"  Her voice broke on that one word
and she forced herself to continue with little or no expression.  "If
he had lived--he planned on asking for help from you."

"He expected it?" Scully asked incredulously.

"I guess he thought it was worth a try.  I had no such illusions.  I
knew we would need to detain you.  We were waiting for the right 
time--we expected you to maintain the extra protection, and then 
suddenly it was gone.  It was a tactical decision, Agent Scully.  We 
need you for a very brief time and we may never need your help 
again."

"No guarantee of that, though?" Scully questioned.

Marita said nothing.  

Scully's distrust had waned not one iota; Marita's little display of
remorse had virtually no affect on her opinion of the woman.  Dana
knew she was wasting time trying to reason with her.  The tests would
be performed this evening.  If she was lucky, they would let her go
in a few short hours.

"Let's get it over with," Scully offered at last.  "I don't want to
prolong my mother's agony over this."

"Or Agent Mulder's," Marita provided.

"I'm sure he's dealing with it better than she is.  Let's just get
this over with, please," she entreated, closing her eyes in defeat.

Scully listened to the movement of humans and machine around her,
opening her eyes when she felt a nurse preparing her for an IV.  She
was determined to watch every odious step of the way; she couldn't
stop this from happening, like her abduction years ago, but she would
at least know what was being done to her this time.

*********************************************************************
 
Skinner's office
7:15 p.m.

Mulder slumped down in his chair, fighting the dizzy spell he didn't
want to deal with right now.  He couldn't get sick now, Scully needed
him too damn much.  He cradled his head with his hands, rubbing the
fingers of one hand over his forehead.  Skinner had insisted he go to
his office to take a break from the situation room.  He'd gone with
some reluctance, then acceptance of his need to stay lucid.

"Hey," Skinner said as he opened the door to his office.  "Feeling
better now?"

Mulder raised his head a few inches to meet his boss's eyes.  "A 
bit."

"Good."  Skinner sat down behind his desk.  "Nothing yet, Mulder. 
Sorry."

Mulder sat up straight in the chair, continuing to rub his forehead
with two fingers.

"You really think they'll call?" queried Skinner.

"I'm convinced of it."  

The older man saw unshakable conviction in the younger one's eyes. 
He wondered to himself how Mulder and Scully had survived so many
years of trials just like this one.  It boggled his mind they could
stay sane, stay committed to their cause, to each other.

As though on cue, Mulder's phone rang.  He reached in his jacket,
then placed it against his ear.

"Mulder.  Yes.  Yes.  All right.  I'll be there."

He thumbed the cell off, avoiding Skinner's gaze.

"Alone, right?" the AD asked.

"Alone," Mulder repeated.

"When?"

"Hour from now."

Skinner heaved a sigh, then flipped his spectacles off his face and
onto his desk.

"Go.  I didn't hear a thing here."

Mulder looked up at him, and their eyes met for a few brief seconds
before Mulder stood and headed for the door.

"Thank you, Sir.  Thank you for everything," he told his friend as
he shot out of the office and into the hallway.

*********************************************************************
8:10 p.m.
A bench along the Potomac

Scully sat, watching the cold river flow relentlessly.  She was
tired.  She had minor cramps in her abdomen.  But she was alive.  And
Mulder would be there any moment to take her home.  

She gathered her coat around her tighter, braving the rising wind. 
She heard footsteps behind her and she turned to face their source. 
Out of the shadows came Mulder--walking, then rushing, to her side.

He hurried to embrace her, crushing her against his chest.  She
buried her face in the leather of his coat, unleashing all the tears
she'd held back in Marita's presence.  Mulder was shaking against
her, sobbing quietly as he ran his hands up and down her back.

"Scully."

She squeezed him soundly around the waist and mumbled his name into
his turtleneck.

He pulled back a bit, eyeing her general condition.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah.  I am."

"What happened?"

She averted her eyes, still too overcome with emotion to discuss the
last few harrowing hours of her life.  

"I'll tell you later, okay?" she choked out between sniffles and 
sobs.

He bobbed his head ever so slightly, then gave her a chaste kiss on
the lips.

"Let's go, Scully," he said, helping her to her feet.

She nodded silently in agreement, briefly, painfully, smiling at him.

He wound his arm around her shivering, cold body and took her home.


fin

Almost Home 29
By Shoshana

Saturday
March 10th, 2001
Church banquet room

"A toast--to the new bride and groom!"

Bill Scully, Jr. raised his champagne glass high in the air, his
complexion already flushed from the first few glasses he'd imbibed. 
He wasn't much of a drinker and overconsumption always affected him
for the worse.  Tara would probably put a stop to a fourth glass
before he could be offered another one.

Mulder and Scully sat next to one another, goblets in hand.  They
smiled diffidently at their wedding guests, then found shelter in
each other's gaze.  Being the center of attention wasn't new to
either of them--they'd received commendations in public, graciously
accepting recognition well deserved.

Being in the spotlight as a real, involved couple was still a
novelty though, bringing a blush to their cheeks which had little to
do with alcohol consumption.  In fact, both their glasses contained
sparkling cider--Mulder refused to indulge if Scully couldn't drink
some too.  He also wanted to remain conscious for his wedding night--
having never chanced the mixture of phenytoin and champagne before,
he'd decided to lay off the bubbly.  

The last week of Mulder's life hadn't provided a lot of time to
experiment with his meds--nor did it even occur to him to do so until
a few hours before their wedding in a small Unitarian chapel. 
Skinner had permitted them a day to recuperate from Scully's
kidnapping, serving as an impenetrable shield from the demands of
both the local cops and FBI investigators all day Sunday.  He'd
insisted they make themselves available to authorities on Monday
morning, and both agents had complied.

Scully had told her fellow law enforcement officers a version of the
truth which satisfied her good conscience.  Only Mulder would know
the details of her conversation with Marita and he wasn't divulging
one word more than his fiancee.  Skinner attended the FBI debriefing,
fully aware by the end of the session that something remained
unarticulated.  He wasn't about to push for details from two of his
best agents--he knew they wouldn't be forthcoming.

The betrothed couple decided to go forward with their wedding plans
even before they entered Maggie Scully's house on Monday night for an
early dinner.  Mrs. Scully wasn't about to pressure them to comply
with the timetable for the event; she was inclined toward a
postponement of the nuptials.  However, both Mulder and Scully seemed
untroubled about the timing of the event, if only to give them an
escape from the harsh reality of their strange lives.

This Saturday night, in front of their family and friends, they were
as far away from the outside world as they could ever hope to be.  It
was a comfort to both of them; Scully felt reunited with her extended
family--Mulder relished his initiation into clan Scully.  Even so,
being focused upon was a mite painful.

They found security in each other's eyes, listening to the second
and third toasts of the evening with half an ear.  Someone yelled out
"Kiss her!" and Mulder obliged by closing the gap between them with
care.  She looked lovely in her fancy dress and he felt deliciously
drunk with happiness.  He was willing and able to fulfill all
requests to kiss his new wife.

The crowd of fifty or so revellers clapped and shouted good tidings
while the bride and groom smooched away.  The strains of "Love Me
Tender" spilled out of the speaker system Langly had set up hours
before the reception, bringing the amorous couple back down to earth,
off their euphoric little cloud of temporary privacy.  Mulder and
Scully's eyes glittered with laughter--their bespectacled friend had
refused to divulge a song list, assuring them they'd be pleased with
the selection.

Mulder was more than pleased, glancing at Langly in the corner of
the room to convey his approval.  His eyes only strayed for a few
seconds, returning to the radiant face of his new bride.  He rose
from his chair and offered her his hand, mimicking a similar gesture
made so many years ago in a small midwestern dance club, years before
he and Scully were involved, years he couldn't possibly remember due
to his continuing selective amnesia.  

Scully let out a little gasp, recognizing the sweet irony of his
familiar, courtly stance.  Mulder misinterpreted, asking her with one
concerned glance whether she was up to the mild physical exertion of
a dance, even a slow one.  She nodded yes with a warm smile and they
moved out onto the tiny dance floor amidst shouts and whistles from
the happy crowd.          

Pressed tightly against one another, they raised their arms
slightly, beaming with delight as they circled the small space until
the very last words of the song, 

When at last my dreams come true
Darling this I know
Happiness will follow you
Everywhere you go.

Mulder leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Truer words were never
spoken."  He nipped at the soft flesh of her lobe quickly, then
lifted his eyes to meet hers again.

Before Scully could get another word out, Mulder felt a light tap on
his shoulder.

"Second dance for big brother," Bill Scully told them with a huge
grin.

Mulder pretended to be put out by the demand, but handed over his
dance partner with little fuss.  Scully grinned back at her brother,
thinking back to just a few hours ago when he'd escorted her down the
aisle.

"Thanks, Bill.  Thanks for all the help you gave Mom this past week.
I know how much she wanted to keep the wedding date."

Bill looked down at his petite sister and shook his head, "It was
nothing.  I was planning on helping her anyway.  I just wasn't
expecting--"

"Your sister would be kidnapped?"

Bill chuckled mirthlessly at her candor.  "Yeah, something like
that."  

He paused thirty seconds or so, appearing to concentrate on the beat
of the music.  "Dana?" he finally asked soberly.

"Yes?" she responded with equal gravity.

"I know it's not my business, and we haven't had any time to talk
about this all week... this may sound like the most naive thing to
say... but, it won't happen again, will it?" 

Scully lowered her eyes as they continued to dance to a popular
tune.  She had no honest answer to his question, at least none she
could reveal to him.

She lifted her eyes and faced him at last, "I hope not, Bill. 
Skinner's put our bodyguards back on duty.  Every precaution will be
followed from now on."  

She paused, biting her lip in thought.  Her next words were spoken
so softly he had to lean close to catch every one.  "I don't think we
can control everything that happens to us, do you?" 

His eyes softened with his reply, "No, no one can, I suppose."  

The music lulled as Langly combed his CD collection for a request. 
Bill squeezed his sister's shoulders affectionately, then leaned over
to kiss her forehead.

"Good luck, little sis."

Dana colored slightly at the sound of her childhood nickname.  No
one else would ever call her by that moniker--it was Bill's privilege
forever.

"Love you," she said, yanking gently at his arm so he'd bend low
enough for her to kiss his cheek.

"Love you, sis."  

Bill smiled, then turned around and headed toward Tara and Matthew's
table.  Mulder had been waiting patiently, chatting with one of
Scully's many aunts when he spotted her availability.

"Hey, wife," he said, approaching her from behind.

Mulder wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder.

"I don't think Bill suspects a thing," she told him gravely.

Mulder frowned.  He didn't want their day ruined with thoughts such
as these.

"How could he?  He lacks the perspective we do, Scully."

She bobbed her head in assent, but he could hear a tremor of sadness
in her unsteady voice, "Yes, I suppose you're right."

He slowly turned her around, meeting her eyes with utter solemnity,
"Don't think about this now, Scully.  It's our wedding day.  Don't
let this get to you."  He grasped her shoulders lightly and leaned
closer to her face, "I won't let anything bad happen to you ever
again."

Mulder leaned in for a long passion-filled kiss, the firm pressure
of his lips calming her anxiety.  Family and friends ceased their
incessant chatting and grazing to applaud the sweet display of
affection, and the newlyweds parted with flushed cheeks and tentative
smiles.  With a shy nod to their enthusiastic audience, they headed
back to their table to continue with the reception.

They never discussed Bill's misgivings again--not that night, nor in
the future.

*********************************************************************
Saturday
August 11, 2001
The Mulder Summer Home
Quonochontaug, Rhode Island

Little hands explored the tanned plain of his father's chest,
pulling weakly at the fine hairs there.  Mulder resisted the desire
to giggle madly, even though the kid was tickling the shit out of
him.  The boy gurgled happily, attracting his mother's curious gaze
from underneath their huge beach umbrella.  She leaned over and made
eye contact with her little boy, and he bubbled and cooed nonsense to
both adults, clapping his little hands against the bronzed skin of
his dad.

Mulder cradled his tiny fists in his much larger hands and crooned,
"Whose little boy are you, huh?  Whose?"

Scully felt her eyes fill with joyous tears; they were so frequent
anymore--even now, when her body had returned to its previous
hormonal balance.  They had everything they wanted in the world, each
other, and this beautiful creature with hazel eyes and auburn hair. 
Three month old Josh made baby chuckles and Mulder pulled the infant
across his chest, settling the child's dimpled chin flush with his
own.  

Scully had provided the boy's patrician nose--thank God, Mulder
thought to himself.  It looked well with his chubby cheeks and
multicolor eyes.  They had started out medium blue and gradually
became suffused with brown and yellow hues, changing them from green
to hazel to brown depending on the quality of light above.

Mulder bussed him sloppily on the lips, then blew raspberries into
his little chin.  This provoked wild laughter from not only his son
but also his amused wife beside him.

"Leave it to you to teach him bad manners at a tender age, Mulder,"
she told him affectionately.

She reached over and smoothed the recalcitrant bangs out of her
husband's eyes so father and son could engage in a goodnatured
staring contest.  Mulder blinked first--the kid could outstare most
adults with a gaze that suggested rich past lives.  To Mulder, that
is.  Scully had already shot down this theory, threatening to adjust
her husband's pharmaceuticals if he dared continue with that train of
thought.

Their little tyke was brand new; she wasn't interested in what or
who he'd been before his present incarnation.  He was the most
beautiful child in the world to her, their child.  A miracle they
could still not account for, though she highly suspected an
adjustment in her chip months before Joshua's conception.

Cancer Man's last gift to them, one he'd never taken responsibility
for.  Marita had suggested the possibility to her months ago--when
she'd imprisoned Scully in a makeshift examining room.  Dana hadn't
wanted to believe it could be true, that her fertility had been
restored by that bastard.  She and Mulder discussed it once briefly,
then dropped the subject in mutual disgust.  Neither of them wished
to be beholden to the Smoking Man, even if only posthumously.

"Babies need to act out their deepest feelings, Scully," Mulder
answered with a smile.  "Watch--"

Mulder lifted the child a few inches from his chest and rubbed their
noses together vigorously.  The youngster cried out with glee and his
father provided silly nonsense syllables to go with his actions. 
Joshua was chirping back non-stop, reaching out little hands to try
and attack Daddy's nose.

"You're full of shit, Mulder.  I know you majored in abnormal psych,
not child psych.  Leave my baby's deepest feelings alone," she
quipped.

"Ah, Scully," he whined, "You know we're just havin' fun."

He gave her a little pout and Joshua reproduced it with perfect
mimicry.  Both parents laughed out loud, astonished at their child's
ability to imitate his elders.

"Won't be too long now before he's raising one eyebrow, Scully--"
Mulder threw out, ducking and covering beneath his little boy's
overalls.  Joshua giggled wildly, apparently believing this to be a
new game Mommy and Daddy had invented just for him. 

Scully punched him goodnaturedly and chuckled, "I'm not the only one
with overactive eyebrows, Mr. Waggles."

Mulder laughed at the absurd nickname.  "I think you've been reading
too many Peter Rabbit tales to Josh lately, woman.  That has to be an
original Beatrix Potter character."

Josh let out a loud, unexpected burp and Mulder exclaimed, "All
right, Josh.  Thattaboy!"

Scully couldn't help but laugh at her husband's enthusiasm, and she
sidled over to her two best boys.  Mulder balanced the infant on his
chest, then gathered Scully close to his side.  She leaned over to
kiss Josh, then Mulder, on the lips, then snuggled against both of
them, draping her arm around the little boy's back.

Scully became very quiet, then told him solemnly, "I got an E-Mail
today.  From Marita."

"Oh," he answered with calculated disinterest.

"The trials are successful.  We're relieved of our obligation," she
intoned dully.

Mulder bit his lower lip and fought back anger and tears that
threatened to ruin their calm summer day.  He took several deep
breaths and replied, "Good.  That's good, Scully.  I just hope it's
the end.  I hope she means it this time."

Scully strained to keep control of her emotions, "I hope so too. 
We've lied to so many people to keep Josh's immunity a secret.  If
anyone else had known--the military, some faction against Marita... 
I don't know what would have happened.  She provided all that
disinformation to throw everyone off Josh's importance.  I don't
understand why she did it--"

"She has her own to worry about, Scully.  She'd like to see her
daughter grow up.  I don't think she'll bother us for any more blood
samples."

"It's not over, though, is it?" she asked sadly.

"No."  He sighed heavily, stroking his little son's head as Josh
fell into a deep sleep.  "There's still the brain activity angle.  We
haven't had enough time to research enough children or adults.  It's
another possible way the hostile aliens could invade.  I don't know
what to say, Scully.  We have to keep trying to find out what all
those tests they performed on me were for."

Scully reached her arm around him, squeezing tightly.  She kissed
his shoulder tenderly, then muttered into his side, "Let's rest,
Mulder.  We all need to rest today."

He pulled her a little bit closer to his side and kissed her on the
cheek.  

"Today we rest," he agreed.

They dozed off in the waning summer sunshine, savoring one small
victory at a time.  They were just a normal family, relaxing on the
beach.  Saving the world could wait 'til Monday.

Fin!!!


Huge cyberhugs to all my beta readers along the way:  Amy, Char,
Keleka, Lisa, Paulette, Sallie and Teresa.  They all contributed so
much to this story and enriched it with tales of their own
experiences.

Special thanks to Teresa's husband, David, for medical advice on
everything from stun guns to pregnancy.

Thanks to all who sent feedback during the last nine months!  I had
no idea this story would exceed 600k and I am very grateful for all
your encouragement.

Please visit my web page at:

http://www.geocities.com/shoshana1013/