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.

fin