Aftermath (1/2)
Date: 18 Sep 1995

Ohmigosh, I can't believe it! I actually got this thing posted. Well,
maybe. . .
Standard disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner,
Cancerman, Mr. X , the Alien Bounty Hunter, Samantha Mulder,
and the X Files themselves belong to 20th Century Fox, Ten
Thirteen Productions and Chris Carter (bless his demented little
heart) and all those incredibly smart people who have invested
money in Fox stock. I don't own any of it, unfortunately, but I
don't own any Netscape stock, either or I would be out spending
my millions. I use all of the aforementioned stuff with the utmost
respect and love, but absolutely no greed and not a smidge of
permission. No copyright infringement intended!!
Brad LaMont, Angela Morphew and Jeff Andrews are of my own
creation. Anyone may use them, just please give me credit.
Acknowledgement: Mary Abel, my ever faithful Muse, who very
gently removed "*" from my limited vocabulary and gave me great
encouragement. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I am going to
change my first born son's name to SUe, for all the blood, sweat,
and tears it took to get this thing posted. And undying graditude to
all those who post stories on this news group and give me
something to do with the spare time I don't have. I love all the
stories posted! It has certainly helped make a long summer of
reruns more enjoyable! (And you thought you had missed all those
sappy acceptance speeches at the Emmies! HAH!)
Finally, a note about this story. I rate it PG-13, and Alternate
Universe, but it is more X-files than romance. Mulder and Scully
do get married very early on. Sorry, had to do it, it just didn't work
any other way. So if that turns your stomach, bail out now. There
is some gore, but nothing that compares to "Nightmare on Elm
Street". There is no "sex, described in loving detail"--we're talking
MARRIED, here. All sex takes place in the dark, by themselves,
no viewers allowed! It would help a lot if the reader has seen
Colony/Endgame and, of course, Anazai. I only hope I can get it
posted before Mr. Carter debuts his own version of the second half
of the cliffhanger and makes this obsolete. I would appreciate all
comments, this is my first attempt. Just be nice, my ego is fragile.
Thanks for reading. Hope you like it.

AFTERMATH
By vmoseley@fgi.netVickie Moseley

University Medical Center
Albuquerque, New Mexico
April 29, 1995 10:24 am

Fox Mulder had been awake for several minutes, but kept his
eyes closed. He was fairly certain he was alone in the room and
didn't relish the thought of confirming that by looking around.
Dana Scully, his partner, best friend, his everything he could think
of, had been there when he had fallen asleep, half-way through his
breakfast. He was sleeping an awful lot lately, mostly due to the
drugs they kept pumping into him for the pain. They sedated him at
night so he wouldn't have the dreams--the boxcar, dark and musty,
filled with skeletons, then suddenly on fire, burning the walls,
burning the old bones,. . .burning him. The burns on his back had
healed sufficiently that he was now allowed to lay in a regular bed,
but the burns on his legs would take longer. <Not too much
longer> he hoped silently. But then, it wasn't like he had anywhere
else to go.

He knew where she had gone. Scully had mentioned that she
was going to have a conference call with the DC Bureau this
morning. He noted with interest that he was not included in the
attendees at the New Mexico end of the meeting. They would be
talking about him, no doubt. He was sure the reason Scully had left
him off the guest list was because she intended to plead his case and
didn't want him pissing anyone off while she was trying to get him
clemency. <Fat chance, Scully! The gallows are already set up in
the square and a hanging isn't much fun without someone to hang.>

He swallowed, wishing he had the strength to reach over and get
the water cup he knew would be on the tray table. Along with
some seeds, which he knew were secreted in the top drawer of the
little metal chest that sat next to his bed. She had not said a word
the day she brought them in. She just glared directly into his eyes
and put them in the drawer, daring him to comment. He had finally
discovered that discretion did have an upside, and had dutifully kept
his mouth shut. It told him a lot about their relationship. She knew
that the seeds would have been confiscated by the floor nurse--they
were definitely not on his diet. Usually, she would have fought on
the side of the nurse. Now, somehow, hospital rules didn't seem as
important as his wishes, and so she had brought the seeds.

<You're making too much out of it> he chided himself. <It was
a lousy bag of sunflower seeds, not usually associated with displays
of undying love and fidelity.> But he had sensed other changes,
too. Scully had never left his side, as far as he knew, while he had
been in the hospital. <She never left you in Alaska, either> he
reminded himself. Of course, there wasn't a lot of nightlife in Dead
Horse, Alaska. It wasn't like it was the resort area of the Alaskan
Coast, or anything. But she had stayed with him, until he had been
well enough to come back to "the lower 48". <And then, she
dropped you off at your apartment and everything went back to the
way it had been,> he countered.

<Enough of this! You're going to drive yourself crazy and you
don't have that far of a drive!> Reluctantly, he opened his eyes,
fumbled with the buttons clipped right next to his right hand and
turned on the television above the foot of the bed. <Daytime,
Albuquerque! Wow, how did I live this long without experiencing
it?>

"Anything interesting on Geraldo?" Scully asked, as she entered
the room and pulled the more comfortable highback chair closer to
the bed, turned so she could see the TV, too. He caught her giving
the monitors over his bed a quick once over. At least she had
stopped taking his pulse every time she was near him!

"Transvestites in law enforcement," he replied, "And they
haven't mentioned J. Edgar once. This guy has absolutely no sense
of history, Scully." He moved his hand and clicked off the TV.
"OK, let's have it."

"First, I talked to your lawyer. Your Mom's condition hasn't
changed. The doctor suggests the Haven, a nursing home up in
Cape Cod. Have you heard of it?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's good. Can Anderson make the arrangements for
payment before dad's will goes to probate?" he asked. He hated
dealing with any of this. His mother had undergone a complete
nervous breakdown after his father's murder. She had been in the
hospital in Chillmark since and the hospital had politely suggested
that a nursing home was the preferable alternative. In his present
condition, Mulder was forced to rely on her doctor's opinion and
his father's lawyers to see to the details of her care. She was in a
state of catatonia and from all indications, would remain that way
indefinitely.

"He said it wasn't a problem, apparently she's still covered by
your father's insurance. But he did mention that there were other
places that were, ah, less expensive," Scully said quietly.

"It's not his money and not his mother," Mulder growled and
leaned back, closing his eyes. After a minute he sighed and opened
his eyes. "What's the report from Skinner?"

Scully shifted in her seat. She was still trying to figure out how
to phrase the conversation that had taken over 45 minutes. Most of
it would only serve to infuriate her already upset partner and she
didn't like that idea one bit. She decided to keep it short and sweet.
"The DA in Massachusetts is dropping all murder charges against
you."

"Did he issue a warrant for Krychek?" Mulder asked anxiously.

Scully sighed. He was not going to like this part. "No," she
said slowly. "Actually, based on a revised report from the ME,
they've ruled it a suicide. No warrants have been issued."

"What! A suicide! How the hell did my Father manage to shoot
himself in the back of the head, Scully?! What is this, Soviet
Russia?! The man was murdered! I was there! He did not commit
suicide!" His face was red and the monitor beside his bed showed a
marked increase in blood pressure.

"Mulder, either settle down, or I sedate you now and tell you
the rest later!" Scully warned. He didn't say anything at first, but
she could tell he was trying to get control of his emotions. Ranting
and raving from a hospital bed would not get him anywhere. He'd
deal with it later.

"I suppose it gets worse," he said glumly, when he finally spoke.

"Depends on how you look at it," she said cryptically.
"Anyway, all charges have been dropped, no inquiry, no record.
You are free, as far as the criminal justice system is concerned."

"And as far as the Disciplinary Committee of the FBI is
concerned?" he asked, eyebrows raised in anticipation.

"They have an offer. Permanent disability leave. Medical and
psychological reasons. Full benefits, you keep your pension, you
can receive disability, a monthly stipend." She waited for the
explosion.

"And if I say 'shove it up your a. . .'", he growled.

"Summary dismissal without chance of reinstatement," she
answered quietly.

"The proverbial 'rock and the hard place', eh? So what happens
to you? Some closet morgue at Quantico till retirement?"

"No," she said quietly, looking down at the floor. "I get the
'opportunity' to resign." She looked up and gave him a fatalistic
smile. "I get my vacation time in pay and I can keep my insurance
for the standard 18 months of COBRA. I get a good
recommendation, as long as I don't go into law enforcement." She
was biting her lip, but her eyes betrayed her. She was hurting.

"They can't do this to us, Scully! I won't let them. I"ll take
every dime my dad left me and sue their asses to hell and back, so
help me. . ." he growled with total contempt.

"Mulder, I've had a lot of time to think about this and I don't
want to go back! Once I thought the Bureau was a place I could
distinguish myself. Now, I can't get far enough away from there!
They had full knowledge of my abduction and did nothing. They
tried to frame you for your father's murder _and_ kill you in a fire
while they were destroying evidence. I don't want to be associated
with that kind. I'm just as glad it's over. Now I don't have to worry
about it," she said, then sat back and watched the TV screen, which
was blank, for a moment.

Mulder reached over, with a grimace and sought for her hand.
She smiled at the gesture and took his hand in hers. "Don't let this
get to you, Scully. I'll think of something. Don't I always?" he
asked with a smile that didn't manage to reach his eyes. Still, she
appreciated the effort.

"I've already thought of something, Mulder. You know, I've
had a chance to see Albuquerque in the last week and a half," she
started.

"Took you that long, heh," he quipped, but quieted when she
shot him a scowl.

"Anyway," she glared at him to ensure continued silence, "It's
not a bad little town. I made some inquiries at the University.
There is an opening on the faculty of their Med school, pathology
department."

"That's great!" Mulder said, finally perking up for the first time
in the conversation.

"And the psych department is looking for someone with a
background in deviant behavior. It's an associates position, but no
previous teaching experience is required." She watched his face
intently, hoping for a favorable response.

"I don't know, Scully. I never thought about teaching. What
about . . ." his face clouded as he swallowed hard.

"Sam?" Scully finished the sentence. He could do no more than
nod. "Mulder, they have an observatory in the desert. Faculty get
access to it and all the reports. There is a large and very active
SETI group, as well as NICAP and MUFON. I saw posters all
over the university. I think we stand a better chance of finding
Samantha here than anywhere."

"'We' stand a better chance, Scully?" he asked, a faint smile
forming on his lips.

"If you haven't figured out that I consider this 'my' search as well
as 'your' search, you need some serious training in interpersonal
relationships, Mulder! We're partners. I thought that went beyond
the FBI, beyond the government, beyond everything. Our jobs may
change, but that doesn't. I won't let it." He was smiling broadly at
her now. "And I was thinking. . .you know it seems really stupid
for us to get two separate apartments. Especially with the price of
rents out here. . ."

"Scully, it's a nice idea, but I gave up 'living' with a woman after
my unfortunate experiences at Oxford," Mulder interrupted.

"Mulder. . .I don't want to just live with you. I. . .I thought. .
Mulder, do you love me?" she asked, looking at their hands and
then up to his face. He looked back in confusion and then, finally,
realization.

"Do you even have to ask?" he whispered. "You know I love
you, Dana."

"I know, but I just thought it would be nice to hear it," she
smiled. "Mulder, I thought, since we don't have to worry about
Bureau Rules and Regs anymore. . ." She hoped he knew where
she was heading. By the look in his eyes, he was right on target.

"I would be happy to marry you, Dana Katherine Scully," he
said, taking her hand and kissing it gently on the palm. "But don't
you want to be home, with your family, and have a big church
wedding?"

"Mulder, Mom has been here since Tuesday. Once we found
you, wild horses couldn't keep her away. You're always asleep
when she comes up to see you. And as for the boys and Melissa,
they don't need the upheaval of a big wedding. I want to marry
you, just as soon as the doctors release you. I've thought of
nothing else, all the time you've been here. When you were in the
fire, and I thought you were dead. . ." her voice choked and tears
were brimming on her eyelids.

"Shh, none of that. You just proposed. You have bigger things
to worry about. You have to buy me a ring," he teased and was
rewarded with a smile through the tears.

An office somewhere in the Pentagon
Washington, DC
January 3, 1996

The gray suited man with dark skin and darker eyes sat behind
his mahogany desk and frowned at the file in front of him. He had
been keeping track of their activities since their departure from the
mainstream, and was not at all surprised to find them as active in
their endeavors as ever. It appeared that nothing could, nothing
would stop them. And their popularity was as high as ever among
certain more vocal groups! Eliminating them had become a
dangerous option, one that was to be avoided at all costs.

At least when they had been in the government's employ, they
were more likely to follow some direction. They still stumbled into
things that were better left hidden, but they also managed to rack
up some impressive discoveries that had proven to be very useful to
him. His predecessor had never understood how to deal with them.
Not to mention that they held a record for the number of truly
dangerous individuals they had put behind bars. Many of his
colleagues would never have guessed that he would consider that
important. They didn't know him very well. It was very important,
for purely personal reasons. He had been very happy to take over
this assignment.

He looked away from the file and surveyed his surroundings.
The office had finally taken on his own personality. It had taken a
few days to air out the room, after the 'unfortunate' demise of it's
former occupant. Lung cancer was never a pretty sight. Funny, he
now considered it from the point of view of the disease. After all, it
had been fairly beneficial, at least in this case. The world was better
off without the likes of his predecessor. And with himself in this
position, maybe things could change. He wasn't an idealist--that
was fatal in this line of work. But even he could hope for the
better.

There was the matter at hand, for example. No one would have
considered it an opportunity to set things right. But he did. He
scribbled some notes on the margin of the file before him, and
called to his secretary. "Get me Walter Skinner, FBI on the line,
Marcia. Tell him it's a matter of National Security." He sat back,
turned his chair around till he faced the window behind him, and
smiled. In many ways, it was going to be a good year.

4267 Oakwood Terrace
Albuquerque, New Mexico
January 6, 1996

Fox Mulder shoved his wire-rimmed glasses up higher on his
nose and chewed absently on the end of his pencil. His legs were
stretched out in front of him, under the coffee table that Dana's
mother had given them as a wedding present. He was sitting on the
floor, leaning against the couch, the same couch that had been in
Scully's apartment in Washington. Before him was an assortment
of journal articles, textbooks and syllabus from other classes.
Reaching out to snatch up a journal article, he scribbled some notes
on a yellow legal pad. Suddenly, his senses became aware of
another person, unsuccessfully trying to sneak up on him from over
the back of the couch. He smiled, but didn't let on that he heard
anything.

Two petite arms reached out to encircle his chest and he quickly
reached up and grabbed them, sliding the 'assailant' over his
shoulder and into his lap. "You, my love, are getting _rusty_!" he
chided. "I've heard freshmen lost on the first day of class move
more quietly!"

His wife, Dana Scully, tightened her arms around his neck and
nuzzled his chin. "Who said I didn't want to be heard?" she
whispered. "Are you coming to bed or do you want to play 'strip
search' here in the living room?" she purred in his ear.

"Wife, I have work to do," he said firmly, but his hands were
still roaming over the length of her back.

"I told you not to sign up to teach a winter mini-term," she
gloated. "You thought you'd be bored to tears with all that time off
between finals and New Years. But you didn't even manage to get
one journal article finished and the hall closet still needs painting!"
She disengaged herself long enough to glance over her shoulder at
the coffee table. "And I am not cleaning that up, either!" She
leaned back toward him and kissed him possessively on the mouth.
"_Come_to_bed_," she said in a voice that would not allow no for
an answer.

Bending his knee up, he used it to push the coffee table away
from them. Then, shifting his weight, he laid her down on the
Navajo rug and proceeded to unbutton the buttons of her blouse.
"You have the right to remain silent. . ." he murmured in her ear.
And stopped dead when the doorbell rang.

"If that's a student, they just flunked their next class with me,"
he growled, as he untangled himself and went to the door, walking
slowly enough to allow Dana to button up and tuck in. Glancing
over to see her nod, he looked through the curtained window next
to the door and gulped in stunned surprise. Shaking his head, he
opened the door and stared into the face of Assistant Director
Walter Skinner.

"Of all the people who could be calling at this hour, you are not
one of the ones I would have guessed!" Mulder said in shock. By
this time, Scully had joined him and was gapping at their former
boss in amazement. Fortunately, she recovered quickly and
reaching past her husband, grabbed the older man's arm and pulled
him into the foyer.

"Assistant Director Skinner! Hello, ah, Happy New Year!
Come in! What are you doing in New Mexico," Dana asked, taking
the older man's jacket and hanging it on the coat tree by the door.
"Can I get you some coffee?"

<Scully, this scumbag took our lives away from us! You are
treating him like Ed *F__king* McMahon!> Mulder tried to convey
to his wife with glaring looks. She shrugged her shoulders
apologetically.

"Coffee would be nice, Agent. . .Uh, Dr. Scully. Or are you
going by Dr. Mulder these days?" Skinner asked, trying to gloss
over his faux pax.

"I think we've known each other long enough to call me Scully,
sir," Dana said, smiling in amusement at the AD's obvious
discomfort. "Fox, sweetie, show the AD into the living room," she
said, rather pointedly to Mulder. He scowled at her, but did as he
was told.

"Well, Mulder. . ." Skinner started.

"I'm the one going by 'Dr.' Mulder, these days, sir," Mulder said
with barely concealed contempt.

"Of course. I sort of forgot you can claim that title as well,
_Doctor_ Mulder," Skinner said, diplomatically. Dana took the
opportunity to trip and kick her husband in the shin, which he tried
unsuccessfully to avoid. <Be nice> she told him with a look that he
knew would cost him later if he ignored.

When they were settled on the sofa, with Skinner in the wing
chair across from them, an uncomfortable silence blanketed the
room. Skinner sighed and realized it was his responsibility to get
the conversation going. He hated this, he was usually a complete
failure at social gatherings and even more so in hostile
environments. But in this particular instance, it was his job.

"So, did you have a nice Christmas?" he asked politely.

"Very nice. Didn't get shot at or burned in a boxcar once the
entire time. Funny, how little things like that can really make a
holiday," Mulder said sarcastically and was rewarded with a quick
jab to the ribs. He silently prayed that Skinner didn't intend on
making this a long visit. He would have to endure another trip to
the ER to tape up the broken bones in his chest.

Skinner tried very hard to ignore the anger in Mulder's voice.
He could hardly blame the younger man. The Bureau had treated
him horribly. It didn't make what he had come to say any easier.
He sipped his coffee and sought the right words.

Mulder had just about had enough. "Mr. Skinner, could you
please cut to the chase and tell us why you are here. I was just
about to take my wife to bed and. . ." another cut to the ribs, "Ow!
. .get a full night's sleep, something I seldom managed to have
time for when I was under your employ." He rubbed at his side and
shot a glare at Scully, who looked impassively at the AD.

"I, ah, have an offer to make. It seems that we at the Bureau
have need of your expertise in a certain area. Of course, it would
be on a strictly contractual basis, but it has been decided that you,
Dr. Mulder and you, Dr. Scully are the only people available with
the knowledge and experience in this area. You would be paid on
the normal contractual scale for professionals bearing your
qualifications--which, I have discovered, is considerably more than
you were paid when you were agents doing the same work," he
noted with a faint hint of humor.

"We're not interested," Mulder said flatly.

"Look, Mulder, I know you have every right to be angry. But
things have changed. A certain individual who used to inhabit my
office has died recently--of lung cancer. His successor is a much
more reasonable man, and has requested your assistance on this
matter. It is in the interest of national security, Mulder. Please
consider it fully before you make a decision." He pulled a file out
of his briefcase and set it on top of the pages on the coffee table.
"At least read the file before giving me an answer." He got up and
reached his hand over to Scully. "I forgot to congratulate you on
your marriage. You both look like married life agrees with you."

Scully took his hand and smiled. "Thank you, sir. It does."

Skinner turned his attention to Mulder, who ignored the
outstretched hand by making a great effort at getting out of the
couch to see him to the door. When they reached the foyer, and
Mulder was pulling the jacket off the coat tree, he leaned forward.
"Dana is pregnant with our first child, Skinner. She isn't showing,
yet, but the baby's due in late July. I have absolutely no intention of
putting either my wife or my child in any danger--national security
be damned. Do I make myself clear?" he seethed through tightly
clenched teeth.

"Just read the file, Mulder. Make your decision then, I will
abide by it. And I really did mean what I said. You do look much
happier, even if you are trying your best to be a hard ass about
this." With that, the Assistant Director of the FBI squeezed
Mulder's shoulder and left.

By the time Mulder made it back into the living room, Dana had
already started to read the file Skinner left. Mulder watched her
become engrossed in the photos and flipping to the back where she
knew the autopsies would be located. He walked up to her and
took the file gently out of her hands.

"My son says he wants his Mommy to go to bed. And so do I.
Come on. You'll have plenty of time to read this behind my back
while I'm out running in the morning. Let's go get some sleep." He
leaned over and lifted her out of the chair. "Sheesh, you're putting
on weight, my love!"

"Why do you think they call it 'baby fat', Cave man?" she
nuzzled him in the neck as he carried her to their room.

Dana woke up to find the space beside her empty. The light was
still out in the bathroom. She pulled her robe on and padded out to
the living room in bare feet. There he was, sitting on the couch, the
light of the television the only brightness in the room. His glasses
were on and he was pouring over what she could only guess was
the file that Skinner had left. "Find anything interesting?" she asked
in a stage whisper. His startle reflex confirmed just how involved
he had become with the information in front of him.

"I was wrong earlier. You haven't gotten rusty," he said,
moving over so she could curl up next to him.

"Why were you such a little shit tonight, Fox? I mean, I thought
we had decided that leaving the Bureau was a good thing. You
acted like Skinner had shot your dog and stolen your bible."

"You forgot 'raped my wife'," he pointed out. "I don't know. I
do love my life, now. I love you, I love being married and being
able to sleep with you and know that if I need you, you are always
there. I could never have had this life if we had stayed there. But I
can't help resenting the way we left! I mean, it wasn't our decision,
Dana! We were fired! We had an exemplary record, the highest
solved/conviction ratio of anyone in the Behavioral Sciences
Division! And they branded me a psycho and forced you to resign!
That still pisses me off, OK?" He stared glumly at the TV and
absently scratched at an old scar on his arm.

"And you still miss it," she said quietly.

"So do you," he accused.

"I know. We are absolutely pathetic, Fox. We have great jobs,
over three months a year off, if we want it. We have a nice house,
a baby on the way. You finally sleep through the night, I don't have
nightmares anymore! And we both dream about going back to a
life where we get shot at, blown up, screamed at for doing our jobs
and never believed when we tell the truth! We are two very sick
puppies, sweetheart. You should let one of your master's students
do a thesis on us. We are deviant!"

Mulder put his arm around Scully's shoulders. She leaned closer
and was soon kissing his neck. He turned his head and sought her
mouth, kissing it fully, pressing and exploring. She broke away
with a soft gasp. "You have the right. . ." she whispered, but that
was as far as she got.

Scully had coffee made and bagels set out on the cupboard to
thaw, waiting for Mulder to return from his morning hour's run.
Glancing over her shoulder, as if he might really come in and catch
her, she picked up the file and started to read. She couldn't believe
it at first. It felt like she had never left.

The case was the murders of six individuals in four states. Each
of the bodies had been mutilated, much of the skin removed and the
heart and livers. The hair had been cut short, almost shaved. For
all the world, it looked like the victims had been used as science
experiments--they had all been dissected. There was very little
solid evidence, no fingerprints, nothing to go on. Except reports in
every town of bright lights in the sky and in three of the six cases,
red lightening. "Sounds like an X File," she said to herself, sipping
her only cup of coffee for the day.

"Ohhh, that sounds sexy," he gasped as he came in the back
door, sweaty and red faced. He flopped down in the chair by the
kitchen door, pulling off sneakers and wet socks and wiping his
face on a nearby dish towel, while his wife scowled at him for do
so. "What sounds like an X file?" he asked, finally getting a mug of
coffee and throwing a bagel in the toaster oven. "Wheat or
cinnamon raisin, love?" he asked before she had an answer to his
first question.

"Whole wheat and this file, but not in that order," she said, still
examining the photos in the file. "Mulder, this is really weird."

"You mean weird enough for you to call me 'Mulder'?" he
asked, gingerly picking the bagels out of the toaster and spreading
cream cheese on each half.

She smiled at him and nodded. "Yep! That weird. These
people, four women, two men, were dissected! But the really weird
thing is that it happened within minutes of reports of very bright
lights in the sky, and red lightening."

Mulder took the file from her as she got up to get a glass of
milk. He read the reports filed at the scene, the eye-witness reports
of the lights and lightening, and finally the autopsies. After about a
half an hour, and two more bagels, he closed the file and laid it back
on the kitchen table. "OK, I'll admit it. I'm interested. Maybe even
interested enough to do something about it."

"So we call Skinner and tell him we'll take him up on his offer?"
Scully asked, trying to keep a firm lid on her excitement.

"And which WE would that be? Me, you and the baby? Un
huh. You are not getting involved in this. You have a much more
important job right now, just getting the right foods and enough
rest so my son can play quarterback for the Red Skins!" He
watched his wife roll her eyes at the reference to a son while he
reached over and patted her stomach affectionately. "Baby knows
what Mommy should do, don't you baby? Even if Mommy
doesn't!" He poured himself more coffee and headed to the room
he called the study and she called the nursery.

"Fox Mulder! You get back here!" she stormed, following him
into the brightly lit room. Sunlight streamed in from three walls of
windows. He was already sitting down at his desk, logging onto his
computer and sorting through his e-mail.

"Hey, Dana, Frohike wants to know what colors we're using for
the nursery. He wants to have a shower for the baby," he said,
ignoring her glaring looks.

"Why can't I be involved in this, Mulder? How dare you make
that kind of a fiat and expect me to obey! This is not the middle
ages! I am a medical doctor, I know my limits. And I am perfectly
able to perform up to my old standards!" she ranted.

"Last night, I'd say you surpassed your old standards, my little
lustful one. But my original statement still stands. You are not
getting involved with this. It is too dangerous. End of discussion."

"Neanderthal!" she shouted and stomped out of the room. "I'm
calling Skinner and telling him we can leave for DC anytime!" she
shouted.

"Never marry a red head, my grandmother always said. Like I
would listen!" he muttered and marched out into the living room
just in time to hear his wife making their airline reservations. He
glared at her with both hands on his hips.

"Somebody's gotta watch your back, Spooky," she soothed, and
went back to making the arrangements.

Baltimore-Washington International Airport
January 7, 1996
3:35pm

Margaret Scully searched the crowd of departing passengers for
her daughter and son-in-law. 'Son-in-law'--it still seemed a little
odd to think of him in that way. Of course, she had been overjoyed
when Dana and Fox had married, but she had spent so much time
not hoping too much for just such an occurrence that now it
seemed too good to be true. She wished they hadn't decided on
living on the other end of the country, but they had made it home
for Christmas and now, they were staying the night before going
down to Washington to do some consulting. She had wondered
what was going on, but they hadn't offered to explain and she hadn't
pried.

"Mom! We're over here!" Dana shouted over the heads of the
other passengers. Her quick pace and Mulder's long legs covered
the distance in no time. A great deal of hugging ensued and no one
looking on would have thought that these three people had just said
goodbye only a week before.

"Mom, you still got that leftover meatloaf from the night before
we left," Mulder asked as he put one arm around her waist and the
other around Dana's and the threesome started toward the baggage
claim area.

"All defrosted and ready to be warmed up. Good thing I
stopped you at seconds, or I would have had to make another!" she
laughed and he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"I know, I'm the biggest pain in the behind you have, Mom.
And you love me," he grinned.

Somehow, the conversation in the car on the ride to the Scully
home centered around the baby. Margaret was dying to know why
her children were going to Washington. She still didn't understand
why they had left the FBI, she knew it had something to do with
Fox' health, but beyond that simple knowledge, she was at a loss.
Even so, she had secretly been as happy with their change of jobs as
she was with their marriage. And at Christmas, they had seemed
very happy with their new life together and their new careers.
Now, even though the banter in the car was light, as always, she
could sense a certain tension and it was driving her crazy.

"Oh, Mom, if we get a chance, I need to go shopping for
maternity clothes," Dana mentioned as she unpacked the overnight
bag in the spare bedroom that she and Mulder would share.

"How about tomorrow afternoon?" Maggie suggested, still
unsure of just how long they would be visiting.

Dana frowned, "Probably not. I'm sure we'll be tied up
tomorrow and to be real honest, we may be on the road before
tomorrow night. We don't have a lot of time, Fox has classes
starting the 17th. This project needs to get finished before then."

"Dana," Maggie said slowly, "you know I don't want to pry, but
what exactly *is* this project? Fox doesn't seem very happy about
it, whatever it is."

"Oh, ignore him. He's just being overprotective and my being
pregnant is giving him ample excuse to act like the male chauvinist
he isn't," Dana said lightly. "I have no intention of putting myself in
any dangerous situations, but to Fox, just walking into the Hoover
Building is going to put me in peril." Seeing the concerned look
forming on her mother's face, she reached over and squeezed
Maggie's shoulder. "Don't worry, Mom! We want this baby far too
much to put it in danger. This is just a little consulting job,
something more to give Fox a chance at healing some old wounds
than anything else. We'll be fine, I promise."

"What's this about 'healing old wounds'?" Mulder asked as he
stuck his head in the doorway. "The oven timer just went off,
Mom. I set the table and made sure the gravy wasn't turning to
cement. Looks like chowtime."

After dinner, Fox and Dana did the dishes and then joined
Maggie in the family room. They spent the evening watching
videos of Christmas morning, something they hadn't managed to get
around to while they had been visiting the week before. After
laughing so hard that tears were streaking down their cheeks, all
decided it was time to turn in.

In their room, alone for the first time since they arrived, Fox
pulled Dana into an embrace. "I really love your Mom. Thank you
for letting me share her," he murmured into her hair.

"Well, you're welcome. But even if I had other plans, I have the
feeling she would still consider you one of her 'brood'. She loves
you right back, you know." She pulled away and started changing
into her nightgown. He eyed her longingly, but kept his distance.
This was her mother's house, after all. And by tomorrow night they
would be in a nice, expensive hotel in DC, at Bureau expense. He
could wait one night. . .

"So, what were you saying earlier about 'healing old wounds'?"
he asked, trying to get his mind off his now barely clothed wife.

"Don't you ever get tired of eavesdropping?" she teased. "I
thought you'd learned your lesson."

"That was different," he countered. "You should have known
better than to talk about my present in a normal tone of voice so
close to Christmas. And this time, I wasn't 'eavesdropping'! I was
coming to announce dinner!" he countered, his voice indignant.

"'Announce' dinner? I remember something like 'it's chowtime',"
she grinned.

"OK, I'm not Mr. French. You still haven't told me what you
meant." His look told her he was not going to let this go without a
discussion.

"I just think that you are doing this little project to get in one
more good shot," she said, pulling back the covers of the bed and
exchanging the pillows. "You know, 'I'll-show-Skinner-who's-the-
psycho'. I know you're worried about me getting hurt, but I have to
tell you, sweetheart, you have far better odds of a prolonged
hospital stay than I do. And when push comes to shove, I want this
little bundle," she patted her stomach "to have HER Daddy in one
piece!"

"So what is this? Tit for Tat? I'm overprotective of you, so
you're going to be overprotective of me?" Mulder asked, ignoring
for the moment his wife's constant reference to his son as if he
would be a daughter. He climbed into bed and kicked viciously at
the sheet so the bottom came untucked.

Dana snuggled in as close as she could. "If I remember
correctly, that's how we managed to stay alive for all that time," she
whispered.

J. Edgar Hoover Building
FBI Headquarters, Washington, DC
January 8, 1996
8:30 am

"Here I had forgotten the joys of DC commuting," Mulder
growled as he pulled the rental car into the parking lot. Absently,
he headed for the garage entrance, but Dana's hand on his arm
reminded him, and he steered into one of the Visitors slots on the
ground level. She watched him closely. "I'm fine, Scully, ah,
Dana," he corrected himself.

"This is like a bad episode of The Twilight Zone," Scully
commented, as they made their way to the front entrance. They
stopped at the guard desk and picked up badges. Mulder stood for
a second and looked down at the plastic in his hand. Scully reached
over, took it from him and clipped it to his lapel. "I always hated
the pictures they had on the other ones, anyway," she smiled up at
him. He made a half-hearted attempt to smile back.

They made their way up to the sixth floor. It was the first time
Mulder had been on the floor since the day over 8 months ago
when he had slugged Skinner in the hall. It wasn't a pleasant
memory. As they stepped off the elevator, they both stopped short
and surveyed the 'pullbit'. Over twenty agents, all busied
themselves and milled around. Upon noticing the two observers,
activity ground to a halt and all conversation stopped. It was an
incredibly tense moment in a place used to tension.

"And they say you can't go home again," Mulder whispered to
Scully as they both took deep breaths and forged ahead. "You
watch my back, I'll watch your front," he grinned devilishly.

"You are always watching my front, lover boy! But I must
admit, your back has a nice view!" she whispered back. He smiled
broadly and suddenly, all the tension they had felt evaporated.
They confidently walked together toward Skinner. It was like old
times, both facing a common foe. But somehow, their bond was
even stronger now, and inside, they both felt invincible.

The Assistant Director had heard the silence out in the pullbit
and stepped out of his office. He stared ahead at the two agents,
correction, former agents, as they all but marched toward him.
<God, they look like they never left,> he thought. He stepped aside
and let the visitors into the office. They were greeted by two
agents, sitting on the chairs that traditionally faced the AD's desk.
"Dr. Scully, 'Dr.' Mulder, this is Agents LaMont and Morphew.
They have been assigned to this case. I hope you had a chance to
review the file I left you?" Skinner said, not expecting anything but
a positive answer while he settled himself behind his desk.

Scully stared hard at LaMont. He was tall, easily matching
Mulder's height, but just a little stockier, like a football player. He
had sandy hair, which would have been bushy, if it had been longer
than Bureau Standard. His face was pure boyish charm. She
remembered him as a student while she was teaching at Quantico.
She had a brief flash of him fainting during one of the first classes
on proper autopsy procedure. She just barely stifled a grin.
Morphew didn't ring any bells. Both agents stood up and shook
hands.

"I've read several of your profiles, Dr. Mulder. It's a pleasure to
be working with you," Angela Morphew said, taking his hand and
looking into his eyes. She was tall, a brunette, slim like a model,
with an oval face and very inviting eyes. Mulder blinked twice. <In
an earlier life. . .> his mind wandered, until his very observant wife
nudged him gently in the side.

"So, how long have you been with the Bureau, Agent
Morphew?" he asked, to hide his stare.

"I just graduated, sir. This is my first assignment," she admitted,
somewhat embarrassed.

Scully looked over at LaMont. "Brad LaMont, right? I
remember you from forensics class at the Academy," she said,
letting him know what memory had come to mind.

LaMont blushed bright red. "I've managed to avoid passing out
on any of my cases, Dr. Scully. But it's nice to see you again," he
added. This time it was Mulder's elbow in Scully's ribs.

"Now that we all know each other, I suggest you four get
working. Dr. Mulder and Dr. Scully are being paid by the hour, so
let's not waste their time." He looked up and gazed at Mulder. "I
think you can still find your way to the basement, can't you Dr.
Mulder. The old X files office is available for you to use for the
time you are with us. Let me know if you need anything else," he
said, reaching for a file folder in the corner of his desk. "That will
be all," he said, dismissing all of them at once.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Dana asked as
she saw Fox' face at the mention of the basement.

"It's not like I'm attending my ex-wife's wedding, Dana! I'm
fine," he said, finding enough smile to assure her.

"You will never know what it's like to attend your ex-wife's
wedding, Cave man," she purred in his ear, just out of hearing of
the two other agents. She had seen the looks Agent Morphew had
been giving her husband and was feeling particularly territorial.
Besides which, it was the first time she had ever been able to walk
these halls arm in arm with her husband of just 8 months, but
partner for far longer. She was enjoying all the looks being shot
their way. It wasn't so bad, after all.

The elevator ride was quiet, with Mulder's grip on Scully's hand
growing tighter as the floors passed by. When the doors finally
opened, she had to change hands with a grimace. He smiled
apologetically and she waited until the others were ahead before
pulling him down for a quick kiss. "No matter how bad this is, I
still love you and I am still here, OK?" she assured him.

"I'm counting on just that. That, and what I intend to do with
you in that in-room spa, back at the hotel," he said, a leering smile
masking his discomfort.

The room was almost vacant. Only the two desks remained of
what had once been his life. He glanced at the walls, expecting to
find his bulletin boards and posters. <Dope, what do you think are
hanging in the study back in Albuquerque?> he chided himself. It
really was like a bad episode from The Twilight Zone. <"Submitted
for your consideration, Fox Mulder. Formerly a renown Special
Agent for the FBI, suddenly confronted with the ruins of his once
proud career. A career that existed. . .only in the Twilight Zone!">
he faintly hummed the theme song and didn't realize it until Scully
shot him a curious look.

"God, this place is dusty," grumbled LaMont, as he swiped at
the desk that was once covered with UFO sightings and eye-witness
reports of alien abductions. He pulled out the chair and Mulder
jolted forward. "Careful how you. . ." the words hung in the air as
LaMont slid off the chair and on to the floor. ". . .sit. Sorry, Brad,
that chair is kind of tricky," Mulder apologized as he reached down
and helped the younger agent to his feet.

"Geez, Dr. Mulder, did you booby trap this place before you
left?" LaMont asked, painfully rubbing his back and seat.

Dana was standing by her old desk and was laughing so hard
tears were forming on her lashes. When she was finally able to get
enough air to speak, she gasped, "That was just what I needed! Do
you remember how many times you requested a new chair,
sweetheart?"

"Fourteen times, each denied," he answered shaking his head at
the still offending office equipment. "Let's sit on the desk. It's
safer."

After the initial shock of familiar surroundings now very
unfamiliar subsided, the four soon got down to the meat of the
case. Mulder had done a quick and dirty profile based solely on the
information in the file folder he had been given. LaMont added
new information obtained from more people at the last two crime
scenes and the victims families. Before long, LaMont was
frantically scribbling new questions and lines of inquiry in his
notebook while Fox Mulder, The Teacher, paced the room and shot
him suggestions, his tie loose and his jacket discarded on the hated
chair. At the other end of the room, Scully and Morphew poured
over the autopsy reports and the pictures of the victims taken at the
crime scenes. Finally, Scully stood up and rolled her shoulders and
patted her stomach.

"Well, it's almost 2:00 and my little bundle is telling me that we
need food. How about we break for lunch? I've been dreaming of
Tony's Pizza for two nights now and they shouldn't be that busy at
this hour of the afternoon," Scully said, taking her husband's jacket
off the chair and holding it out for him.

Morphew and LaMont eyed each other. The Mulders
pregnancy was an added piece to the puzzle that had been the topic
of conversation for the last 24 hours in the Bureau cafeteria. "Ah,
actually, we play racquetball on our lunch hour. But you two go
ahead. We'll all meet up back here at, say 3:00?" LaMont
suggested.

It was cold and a light sprinkling of snow was falling as Fox and
Dana stepped out of the building. They walked in silence, holding
hands for a couple of blocks, until the wind threatened Dana's scarf
and Fox pulled her closer, enclosing her in the folds of his overcoat.
"Can't let my baby catch pneumonia back here in the wicked East,"
he joked. She laughed, but he knew it was not at his humor.
"What is it?" he asked.

"Those two back there. Was I ever that green?" she asked, still
chuckling.

"You, my love, were greener," he said, then feeling her glare he
added, "for all of ten minutes. But you caught on fast. I'm not so
convinced that either Agent LaMont or Agent Morphew is going to
be so quick."

"You sound worried," she observed.

"Yes, I guess I am. I think by tonight we will have done all we
can here in DC. The last two murders occurred in Missouri, just
outside of St. Louis. I think we may have to take this show on the
road to get to the bottom of it all. And I'm not too keen on going
into the field with a couple of 'wet behind the ears' newbies on our
hands. You are supposed to take it easy, I don't want you taking
up the slack for Morphew. As for LaMont, I really don't relish the
thought of him watching my back. He can't even sit in a chair
without ending up on the floor," he pointed out glumly.

"I don't remember anything in the contract about hand holding
and investigations in the field," Dana reminded him quietly.

"Yeah, but do they still pay us if we don't solve this case? That's
the trouble with the private sector, they expect something for their
money!" he said, smiling down at her.

"We could request two other agents," she suggested.
"Somebody we know, with more experience. . ."

"And then we have to worry about getting shot in the back,"
Mulder quipped. "I can't think of a single agent in the whole
Bureau that I would trust. We never trusted them, remember? No,
I think we are stuck with Laurel and Hardy for the duration.
Hopefully, Skinner didn't give them to us to 'set us up'." They had
reached the pizza parlor and found seats easily. Scully placed their
order and settled back, looking at her husband.

"What do you mean 'set us up'?" she asked.

"Well, I really didn't want to mention it, but the thought has
occurred to me that this could be an elaborate set up. I mean, face
it Dana. We haven't stopped looking. Our contacts with NICAP
and MUFON, not to mention the access to SETI research and data
is actually stronger than it used to be, back in the days when we had
to deal with liver eating mutants and flukemen all the time. Maybe
the Forces of Darkness aren't satisfied with us being drummed out
of the Bureau with our swords broken. Maybe they've decided that
we need to meet with an untimely death because we stuck our
heads out a little too far again." He picked up his straw and
unwrapped it.

Scully shuttered. "Thank you, sweetheart. Now I know I'll
sleep soundly tonight," she grumbled at him.

He reached over and took her hand. "Hey, this is what we both
missed, remember? The paranoia was as much a part of it as the
glamour. But it's pretty far fetched, even I have to admit. If they
really wanted to get us, they would have made a nice tidy accident
happen back home, like a faulty brake line or the likes." He kissed
her palm. "Don't worry about it. I shouldn't have mentioned it. I
should learn to keep my paranoia to myself," he scolded himself.

Scully pulled his hand over to her mouth and kissed it in turn.
"The minute you do, Fox Mulder, I dig out my old service weapon
and shoot you where you stand! Don't ever hide your thoughts,
your feelings or anything else from me, you hear." The pizza
appeared, smelling just as wonderful as she had remembered it.
"Now eat. We don't have my refrigerator to put the leftovers in and
I'm counting on your appetite to finish this off. Dig in!" she
ordered.

They returned to the Hoover Building and found LaMont and
Morphew in the basement office. The only indication that they had
actually played racquetball was the fact that Morphew's hair was
still a little damp. Everyone quickly dug in and got back to work.
They worked steadily until 6:00 when Mulder declared that they
had gone as far as they could on the evidence and information they
had. It was agreed that they would leave for St. Louis in the
morning. Dana gratefully left the travel arrangements up to Angela
and followed Fox to the elevator.

"I didn't get my nap!" she complained, leaning against him in the
elevator and almost falling asleep in that position.

"I'll let you catch some z's while I do some more work. But
then, it's bubble bath time, young lady," he leered.

"Work? I thought we were at an impasse," she yawned sleepily.

"WE are at an impasse. I still have some ideas, but I don't think
the kiddies are ready for them." He noted her grim expression.
"Don't worry. I will not go running off on my own. That's for
single guys who don't have lives or wives or babies on the way. I
am reformed, Dana, I swear!" He held up his right hand in the Boy
Scout hand signal.

"Well, just to make sure, I sleep with the car keys, Mr.
Reformed!" she sneered.

"The Washington Hilton! God, Fox, do you realize how often I
dreamed that we could stay in a hotel like this when we were on an
assignment?" she sighed, kicking off her shoes and skidding to a
stop on the bed.

"Yeah. And the best part is the hemorrhage Skinner is going to
have when he gets the bill. Tonight, my sweet, sweet Dana, we are
going to order room service! Now, you get some rest," he said,
pulling the bedspread over her, but stopping long enough to kiss
her stomach "Night, night, baby. Daddy loves you," he murmured
softly. Then he reached up and kissed his wife on the lips. "Sleep
tight." He went over to the cherry desk and noticed that she was
asleep in a matter of seconds. He pulled the now all too familiar file
out of his briefcase and flipped it open.

Dana awoke to the sound of a knock on the door. Sleepily, she
watched Fox answer it and step aside as a waiter pushed a white
table clothed dining cart into the room, set with two covered plates,
water glasses, wine glasses and a bottle of something on ice. In the
middle of the service was a single red rose in a silver vase. She
rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn't dreaming. "Fox, I think I
hear the national debt doubling," she muttered, throwing off her
cover and sitting in the chair he had pulled up for her.

"Funny you should mention it, but it really doesn't cost that
much. We're probably saving the Bureau big time, considering I
was thinking of taking you to Rive Gauche before I decided on a
quiet dinner here." He pulled the bottle out of the chiller. "Ah,
Sparkling Apple Cider, vintage 1995. I hear it was a very good
year for apples," he said, in his best husky voice as he poured them
both glasses. She smiled from ear to ear.

"A toast. To the past, which we have left behind, to the present,
which I for one am thoroughly enjoying, and to the future, which I
can not wait to see, as long as I'm with you," he said and looked
deeply into her eyes. "I love you, Dana," he sighed and drank his
cider.

"I love you, Fox," she sighed in return. She drank her cider,
appreciating the gesture more than actual aperitif. After a minute
or two of silence she reached across the table and took his hand.
"I'm sorry we had to go through hell and back to get to where we
are, but I think the journey has made us stronger. And as long as I
was with you, I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

<The worst part of being pregnant is going to the bathroom all
the time>, Dana moaned to herself as she slid out from beneath the
warm covers and across the chilly room to the bathroom. She was
just coming out again, when Fox sat straight up in bed and let out
scream. <Oh, please God, I thought we were over these> she
thought as she hurried the few steps to the bed and took him in her
arms. "Shhh, Fox, it's all right. I'm here. Dana is here. Wake up,
baby. It's only a dream. Come on, wake up," she prodded him in a
soft and gentle voice. Slowly his eyes focused on her rather than
the wall behind her and he blinked a couple of times. The tears that
were streaming down his face slowed and he gulped in some deep
breaths, as if they were the first he had had in a while.

"The Baby! Where's the baby?" he demanded, his voice still
shaking. She took his hand and rested it against her stomach.

"The baby's right here, sweetheart. And that's where she will be
until July sometime. What was the dream about? Was it something
about the baby?" she asked as he pulled away from her and padded
off to the bathroom. She followed him and sat on the edge of the
oversized tub while he washed his face and drank a glass of water in
one gulp.

Finally he looked at her from the mirror. "They took her. She
was only a few days old, Dana. God, she was beautiful, red haired,
blue eyed, the sweetest face I've ever seen. They came in the night,
bright lights, everything. They took her and all I could do was
scream." He closed his eyes against the visions still coming and
dragged himself back to the bedroom. He reached over to the
nightstand and grabbed the remote like a lifeline, flipping channels
with no sound. She crawled into bed next to him.

"This case is bringing all this up, you know," she said quietly.
He said nothing, but she knew he had heard her. "Maybe this
wasn't the best idea in the world. Coming back, I mean."

"It'll be over soon," he mumbled. "Go back to sleep,
sweetheart. There's nothing you can do for me right now that you
can't do asleep."

She snuggled into him as close as she could and put her hand on
his hip. For once, she didn't argue, but fell back asleep.

Flight 853
Dullas International to Lambert Field, St. Louis
Janaury 9, 1996
10:13 am CST

Dana looked up the aisle and could just make out Fox' elbow in
the front row. She wasn't real happy about being in separate aisles,
but when the front row was available, it only seemed right to give
the seats to the ones with the longest legs. While they were
partners, Dana never gave it a second thought. Now, she missed
even this short time to talk to him. So much was happening--so
many emotions were surfacing that both of them had thought long
buried. <Healing old wounds, hah! It feels more like rubbing salt
in them!> she cursed silently.

Angela had finished the inflight magazine and was looking out
the window. Finally, she turned to Dana, who was studying the ice
melting in her glass of ginger ale. "I'm not much of a morning
person, I'm afraid," Angela said apologetically. "Last night I was
really looking forward to this trip. There are so many things I
wanted to ask you."

"Well, we're a ways from St. Louis. Ask away," Dana offered,
although a little prick in the back of her mind gave off warning
signals.

"I was wondering. . .did they treat you different. The other
agents, I mean. Oh, I know they treated you different once you
started working with Spo. . .ah, Dr. Mulder. But before that." She
was playing with her napkin, a little embarrassed.

"You mean, because I was a woman?" Dana asked, ignoring for
the time the slam at her husband.

"Yes!" Angela exclaimed. "The other agents, and the upper
management levels!"

Dana took a few minutes to organize her thoughts. "At first, I
guess I didn't really let myself realize it. I mean, I had fought that
particular battle all the way through medical school. There aren't
nearly as many women in med school as there are men, and most of
them tend to gravitate to the traditional fields of obstetrics and
pediatrics. A woman in pathology, in forensics, that is almost
unheard of. I took a lot of crap because of it!" She picked up her
drink and sipped at it thoughtfully.

"I was really excited when I was recruited into the Bureau. I
thought I had really made the grade, you know?" she looked at
Angela, who smiled and nodded. "But I did notice a difference.
There were whispers, always behind the back. And looks,
especially when I gave an opinion different from the assembled
males. The 'what does she know, she's a girl' look from seventh
grade. I was really beginning to hate it." Angela smirked and
nodded again.

"And then, I was assigned to the X files. I couldn't decide if it
was a promotion or a demotion. I had heard all the rumors. Fox
never made an effort to quell the rumor mill, in fact, he took
pleasure in adding fuel to the fires. So, I was a little upset at first.
And he did absolutely nothing to set my mind at ease. As a matter
of fact, I think he went out of his way to act crazier around me, just
to see if he could scare me off. But I didn't scare. And I think that
actually scared him!" She laughed and Angela did, too.

"So we went to work. And after two or three cases, I noticed
an end to the crazy act. Then, I noticed that he was actually
depending on my opinion, waiting on my autopsy findings before
proceeding with a particular line of investigation. And then, he
started the phone calls."

"Phone calls?" Angela asked, a little too intrigued.

"Oh, not like 'Naughty Congressman and Underage
Congressional Page' phone calls," Dana quickly assured her. "No,
see Fox never quits working. Even when he goes home, his mind
still works on the case. Late into the night, his little gears are still
twirling on getting the pieces of the puzzle to fit. So he would get
to a point in his thought processes when he wanted outside imput,
and my number was the first one on his speed dial. 2 o'clock, 4
o'clock, it didn't matter to him, he called and would start tossing
ideas at me. I thought about changing my number, but then, I
realized, he depended on me! I was suddenly his equal, even
though technically he was my superior and years more experienced
than I was. And that realization floored me."

"Is that when you started sleeping together?" Angela asked
innocently.

Dana choked! "Is that what the grapevine says? Angela, let me
set the record straight: the first time I 'slept' with Fox Mulder was
on our wedding night! And I had to be damn careful, because he
was still wearing the bandages from the fire that almost killed him!
All the time we were partners at the Bureau, we never did anything
more intimate than hug! We kept ourselves very professional, at all
times!" Dana realized she was speaking just a little too loud when
she saw Fox turn around and shoot her a questioning look. She
shrugged him off and settled back down, speaking in a much lower
tone.

"I know how it looked to some. I know what they thought. If
he treated me like an equal, he must be 'getting some'! But believe
me, Angela, it never happened."

"But you got married the day you left the Bureau! I mean,
everyone assumed. . ." Angela stammered.

"Fox likes to quote his old high school teacher who used to say
"when you assume you make an ass out of you and me"! That
about sums up the quality of rational thought at the Hoover
Building cafeteria."

Angela looked seriously apologetic. "Dana, I'm sorry! I never
meant. . ."

"No, Angela, no, I'm sorry. You only know what you've been
told. As for when we got married, well, that's sort of hard to
understand unless you've been a partner. See, we never made love,
not in a physical sense, until our wedding night. But I knew
everything there was to know about Fox Mulder! I knew that he
hates herbal tea, that he likes his eggs sunnyside up and runny, that
he has to run at least 5 miles every day or he goes into endorphin
withdrawal. I knew that he would stay up all night to watch
_Battlestar Galactica_, but never sat through an entire episode of
_Deep Space Nine_. I knew that his father. . ." she stopped short
of continuing. "Let's just say I knew things about him that I doubt
he would admit to knowing about himself. And I loved him,
deeply. I could not imagine life without him. I was faced with that
possibility more times than I could ever have imagined and I didn't
want to risk losing him again."

"Weren't you afraid you'd get married and. . .well, it wouldn't
work out?" Angela asked, still a little hesitant.

Dana closed her eyes and smiled. "I was a little scared. I think
we both were. But we were all we had. The Bureau. . .well, that
door had closed and been locked behind us. We had very little idea
of what our futures would be like. We had trusted each other so
exclusively for so long. . .we just couldn't stop, I guess. So, we
picked ourselves up and started building a life--together. It's been
more than I could have hoped for." She looked down at her
stomach and rubbed it affectionately. "And when I found out at
Thanksgiving that we were about to become The Three of Us, well,
it's hard to top perfection, but I think we did it!" Her smile was so
bright, she glowed. It was infectious, Angela smiled back.

"You are _very_ lucky, Dr. Scully! I doubt I'll ever feel that
way about a partner," she lost a little of the smile as she stared out
the window.

"Hey, give Brad a chance," Dana said with confidence. "You
can never tell about these things. You get to where you watch their
back more than you watch your own. . .and you wake up and
realize you've got something special. It happens, in the most
unlikely of cases!"

Up in the front of the plane, Brad LaMont was giving the notes
he had taken a good once over. Mulder had dozed off early in the
flight, in part because he had really only gotten about four hours of
sleep and in part because he had long ago discovered that trying to
read on an airplane only aggravated his mild motion sickness. He
awoke only when his wife's voice grew steadily louder in his ears
and he was sure he had overslept and was late for his first class.

Brad saw Mulder wake up and turn to look at Scully. He
immediately jumped on the opportunity. "Dr. Mulder, about this
question. . ." he started and Mulder shot him a disdaining look.

"LaMont, if you don't stop calling me Dr. Mulder, I'm going to
flunk you in this course," he smiled. Brad sputtered and then
slowly let the joke settle in his mind.

"What should I call you, then?" he asked, not quite sure how to
proceed.

"Mulder would be nice. Hell, at this point, I'll even take
Spooky! But I've had all the Doctoring I can take for a while. I'm
sorry I ever started it with Skinner, but it was just to get a leg up on
the bastard. I really didn't expect it to stick." He rolled his
shoulders and shifted in his seat. "So what's the question?"

Brad looked a little embarrassed. "Do you think the family
members will take me seriously if I ask about any history of UFO
sightings? I mean, it sounds sort of. . .well, out there, if you know
what I mean."

"LaMont, I'm not trying to be difficult here. But like I told you
yesterday, and like I wish I could have shown you if I had access to
my old files, there is strong evidence here that suggests alien
involvement. That doesn't mean it's what we'll actually find, mind
you! It just means that we better at least look in that direction or
we'll risk missing important clues." Mulder sat back and watched
LaMont face intently, judging his reaction.

LaMont chewed on his lip a minute. Then, slowly he looked
over at Mulder. "So you aren't saying this is automatically UFO
related, just that we should explore all avenues?" he asked,
confusion slowly turning to understanding.

"Exactly!" Mulder crowed triumphantly. "See, LaMont, I'm not
as crazy as I've been portrayed. It's just that often, when we only
ask conventional questions, we only get conventional answers. And
sometimes, those aren't the ones that solve the case."

"But when you ask the unconventional questions, don't you risk
not being taken seriously?" Brad asked.

"But if you uncover the truth, does it really matter?" Mulder
asked. He looked at LaMont' face and saw that, yes, to the
younger agent, it probably did. Mulder sighed. <So few disciples. .
so many great unwashed.> He turned around again and saw Dana
still deep in conversation, but with a hugh smile on her face. She
looked up and caught his eye. "I love you" he mouthed silently.

"You better", she mouthed silently in return and giggled as she
turned back to continue talking to Angela.

He turned around to face front, his previous dismay replaced by
an overwhelming feeling of contentment. <Just hang in there, Fox,
and soon, this too will pass!>

End of part one