Almost Home (22/?)
By Shoshana

February 26th, 2001
Monday
4:00 p.m.
Alexandria Hospital

Mulder popped a pill in his mouth, then leaned over to slurp some
water from the fountain.  He wiped the back of his hand over his
glossy lips, then licked them thoroughly, eyes gleaming with
mischief.  Scully was watching his every move, agape with unconscious
abandon.

"You'll catch a lot of flies like that," he teased.

Scully smiled back and offered him her hand.  They were openly
touching one another in public now; by tacit agreement they hadn't
gone back to their practice before Mulder's abduction--keeping a
polite professonal distance for appearances' sake.  

There really was no point in disguising their relationship anymore--
FBI employees with only a marginal interest in their saga knew about
Scully's pregnancy and Mulder's recent return to DC.  No one assumed
anything, but it was a pretty good guess their colleagues thought
they might be headed for the altar.  Ten or twelve of them had
ambushed Mulder and Scully as they'd strolled casually across the
parking garage an hour and a half ago.

It was less difficult than either of them could have imagined--they
shook everyone's hand and smiled shyly as a group from the bullpen
congratulated them on two counts, the baby, and Mulder's successful
return from wherever the hell the infamous alien hunter had
disappeared this time.  Mulder was well known for getting himself
into impossible predicaments, surviving them by sheer luck, or 
through the intervention of his loyal partner.  Fortunately, the 
friendly agents were on their way to a seminar at Quantico and 
didn't detain the couple longer than necessary.  

When their admirers had left, Mulder and Scully realized they'd been
gripping each other's hands tightly as they chatted it up with the
crowd--something they'd never have risked last year.  Not a word had
been sent down from the upper echelons of the FBI bureaucracy
concerning their partnership, but both agents were well aware the
continuance of the X-Files was by no means a sure thing.  There was
some cause for worry when they both returned to work, presumably as
newlyweds, but neither Mulder nor Scully wanted to dwell on this
possibility.  They had other dilemmas to focus on; futile worry over
their marital status would only distract them from their own, more
timely, agenda.   

"You think this medicine will work, Scully?" he finally asked when
she offered no retort to his lighthearted comment.  

Her eyes shone with a contentment she'd only embraced in the last
week; his whirlwind return and recovery had shaken her makeshift
universe, the one which had offered her strength to cope through five
months of alternating hope and despair.  She'd depended not only on
her faith in Mulder's uncanny ability to survive disaster, but also
on her renewed belief in a higher power, one which had graced her
body with a child, a sliver of Mulder's soul.      

Scully answered him confidently, "Brian thinks so.  He's a top-level
specialist, Mulder.  He looked over your recent EEGs, CT scans, and
all your bloodwork from both hospitals, and I don't know any one
better qualified to treat you.  I know you had a bad experience with
phenytoin when you were hospitalized a year and a half ago, but that
was a thousand milligrams and Kritschgau was not a physician--"

"I know, I know.  You'll make sure I get my dosage adjusted weekly,
I'm sure," he responded with cautious, but cheerful optimism. 
"Millions of people live with seizures.  I just hope mine aren't
chronic--they should diminish as all my memories return, don't you
think?" 

"There's no guarantee, Mulder.  Medication can control the problem
to some extent, but we'll have to be careful the next few months.  I
guess you're just going to have to allow your personal physician to
accompany you everywhere you go.  Would you like that?"

She playfully swung their joined hands between them as they strode
down the corridor.  He grinned back and said, "*Everywhere*, Scully? 
Even my bachelor party?" 

"You've got to be kidding!" she replied, feigning disgust with the
inevitable ritual.  She'd expected the guys to throw Mulder a bash,
but she didn't have to sanction it, especially if it included
consumption of alcohol.

"The guys... they're insisting.  Sorry, Scully.  No girls allowed."

She shook her head in mock exasperation, suppressing a grin.  She
knew she wasn't fooling Mulder with her disapproving act.  She smiled
in spite of herself and told him, "I'll entrust the three Stooges
with your welfare, Mulder... but you'll have to stay sober if you're
going to take your medication.  I don't want anything to mess with
your recovery."

He nodded his head in agreement.  "Deal, Scully.  I'll let the guys
do the heavy drinking this time."

Any response from Scully was cut off by the trilling of her phone. 
She reached into her coat pocket and flipped it open.  

"Scully," she said solemnly, although her eyes were still smiling 
from Mulder's latest concession to her wishes.

"Oh.  Okay.  We'll be there in twenty minutes, all right?  Thanks,
Byers.  See you soon," she concluded.

She thumbed off the device and replaced it in her jacket.  Mulder
watched her expectantly, his head tilted to one side.

"So?" he asked when he saw her expression lose its levity.

Scully's shoulders slumped with the weight of her newfound 
knowledge.  She didn't want Mulder haring off across country as soon
as she told him the latest news.  Her mouth opened and closed once
or twice before she found the words to articulate Byers' message.

"Teresa Hoese is back.  So is her husband, Billy Miles, and other
abductees from the area.  All of them were returned in the last
twenty-four hours, but the news reports just came over the wire now."

"Are they all right?" Mulder asked.

"For the most part.  They've all refused to be interviewed by the
media, thank God.  They haven't told authorities much.  Billy and Ray
are both law enforcement, but they don't want to talk about their
experiences," she replied.

"I don't blame them.  I don't want to talk about mine."

"I thought they didn't hurt you--" she voiced with concern.

"I don't know for sure what happened to me, Scully.  I started to
remember things last Saturday that I don't want to tell you, maybe
I'll never be able to tell you.  I don't want to upset you, Scully--
not, not now.  You understand, don't you?" he asked, sweeping his
hand through her hair until he gently cradled her head.

She moved closer to him, placing both palms on his chest.  "I do. 
I've never told you what happened to me.  I don't remember much, you
know... I don't think I want to remember.  I may have entertained the
thought of retrieving those memories through hypnosis at one time--"

Mulder leaned down and gently kissed her forehead, then pulled back
and said quietly, "You do understand."

Scully gave him a glimpse of a smile, then moved her hands to his
waist and responded, "I do."

He grinned at the two simple words, imagining how beautiful they'd
sound in an entirely different context in less than two weeks.  If
they were lucky.  If he didn't get them into hot water before then. 
Mulder wanted to assure her he wasn't going to take the next plane to
Oregon and disappear into the mists of the forest again.

"I'm not going anywhere, Scully.  I'm not leaving you again," he
whispered softly in her ear.

Scully murmured back, "Of course you're not, Mulder."

He kissed her softly on the lips.  "That's my Scully.  Come on,
Frohike will cook for us if we're nice to him."

*********************************************************************
Lone Gunmen's residence
Somewhere near DC
4:45 p.m.
 
"Whaddaya got for us, boys?" Mulder asked, escorting Scully through
the security door and over to the vintage vinyl couch.  

It was dark in the Gunmen's headquarters, more so than usual.  The
guys were all present, ready to show off the fruits of their labor. 
They'd been monitoring satellite news feeds from the television
station near Bellefleur since last September when Mulder had
disappeared. 

"I'm sure Scully told you about the news reports we recorded.  Those
were local news reports--they didn't amount to very much because they
were interrupting afternoon soap operas.  There's a three hour time
difference so the best reports will be at eight o'clock our time. 
Here's what we have so far--I'll run it through the set over there,"
Frohike said, pointing to a fairly large television near a phalanx of
computers.

"Yeah, and it's Langly's fault there's no sound," Byers sniped.

"Is *not*, asshole.  You're the one who left the sound switched
off," Langly protested.

"You're supposed to check it, *moron*, before you tape anything,"
Byers shot back.

"Hey, cut it out!  It doesn't matter, dickheads.  I'll tell them
what's being said.  For God's sake, you two belong in pre-school,"
scolded Frohike.

"Do you read lips, Frohike?" Scully asked.

"Yeah, my grandpa was deaf.  He knew sign language, but when I was a
kid there were no closed captions on TV programs.  He enjoyed showing
me how well he could interpret what was said.  After awhile I could
do it too--we'd kill the volume and take turns being the characters,"
Frohike replied.

"Who took the female roles?" Mulder teased his friend.

Frohike laughed and told him, "We watched an awful lot of Westerns,
Mulder.  I guess I had to be Miss Kitty a few times on 'Gunsmoke,'
but only when my neighborhood pals were absent."

Everyone chuckled, then fell silent when the tape finally rolled. 
The guys knew this was serious business for Mulder and Scully--they
could possibly discover where Mulder had been held for five long
months.

Frohike began his narration, "The news reporters are all shouting
'Where have you been?' and 'Did aliens abduct you?' at Teresa and Ray
as they try to walk up the sidewalk to her parent's home.  Ray just
said 'No comment.  Please leave us alone,' to the camera.  Okay,
that's all... I told you these were brief.  Here's the clip with
Billy--he seems to have a little more patience with the press.  He
says 'There will be a full report on file at the Sheriff's
department.  You'll have to wait until then for details, folks.'"

Billy Miles turned away from the media and escaped inside his house
as reporters continued to shout questions at him.  The video ended
and everyone blinked when Byers turned the lights back on.

"Not much to go on, I know--but at least you know they're all back
and they look reasonably healthy.  We'll tape the evening news for
you and if you like we'll bring it over later tonight," Langly told
Mulder and Scully.

"We'd really appreciate that, Langly.  We're both pretty bushed. 
We've been to two doctors today, plus we had an audience with Skinner
at headquarters," Scully answered.

"Um, did he mention anything, uh, you know--" Frohike stammered.

"Yes, Frohike.  He told us he ran into you last night.  We wouldn't
have had a conversation in our office if you hadn't debugged it for
us.  Thanks for doing it," Scully replied.

"Your wish is my command," Frohike told her, waving his hand in the
air with a flourish.

"Seems to have been my wish, wasn't it?" Mulder countered.

"Oh, Mulder... when will you learn?  Everything is about Scully, not
you," Byers quipped.

Scully's expression reflected both her amusement and embarrassment
at being the center of so much male attention.  They probably would
have gone all out for Mulder if she'd been the party in question--
they most likely already had several years ago when she'd been
missing.  None of them had ever discussed that dark time in their
lives, but she imagined Mulder had turned to the guys for their
expertise years ago.

"And all this time I thought it was me, me, me..." Mulder responded.
He sensed Scully's consternation and attempted to deflect the
spotlight to more pressing matters.  "Have you guys intercepted the
police reports yet?" he inquired hopefully.

"Working on it," said Langly, tapping away at his keyboard.

"You two hungry?" asked Frohike.

"Ah, there, I told you, Scully... Frohike's gonna feed us," Mulder
said, breaking into a broad grin.

"Okay, fifteen minutes and counting.  Make yourself comfortable,
folks," Frohike replied.

In twenty minutes, they were all balancing plates on laps or beside
computer monitors.  Mulder and Scully took the couch, and each of
their friends had some favorite spot around the room.

"How ya feeling, Mulder?  I haven't spoken to you since you asked me
to take care of your office for you," Frohike said.

"I'm much better.  Scully didn't tell me until this morning she'd
gotten in touch with you.  She's been too busy supervising every
detail of my recovery," he said wryly. 

Scully ignored his gentle barb and said, "Mulder went to see a
neurologist today.  There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with 
him--but the episode Saturday night left him with some lasting 
effects."

"Like what?" asked Byers with interest.

"I seem to remember last year, maybe all the way back to the fall of
1999.  It's a jumble... it all comes back randomly, then fits
together after I have time to think about it," Mulder told them.

"That's great!  Both of you must be really happy about that!" Langly
remarked.

Mulder smiled, then reached over and affectionately caressed
Scully's hand.  "It is great.  I remember a lot of good stuff that
happened last year."

Scully averted her eyes as a blush of color swept over her cheeks. 
Even though the Lone Gunmen were truly among her best friends now--
they were still *guys* and she was somewhat abashed at the
implication of Mulder's words.  Despite her fears, not one of the men
adopted an inappropriate leer.  They smiled quietly--the only noise
interrupting their temporary silence was the tap tap of Langly's
fingers across his keyboard.

"The doctor give you anything to prevent more medical problems?"
Frohike asked.

"Yeah, it's not a sure cure, but it might work.  Scully thinks so,"
Mulder claimed, dipping his head to one side, catching her eyes with
his own. 

Scully responded to Mulder's subtle encouragement, finding the words
to further describe his condition, "He's taking phenytoin... it's no
guarantee he won't have any more episodes, but it's the best we can
do for him at present.  There's no precedence for this in the medical
literature, or at least what Dr. Myers has had time to review, which
wasn't much.  Maybe you guys could do a little 'research' for us--"

The Gunmen knew this was Scully's code word for 'Could you hack me
some information?'  She'd never felt comfortable asking them to
commit illegal acts; an innocuous request for research assistance
sounded less jarring to her ears.  Scully knew that brainwashing had
been a popular technique during the Cold War, and military records
were far from public.  These closely held records, and others at 
major psychiatric facilities scattered around the country, might go a
long way in unravelling the mystery of Mulder's affliction.  

"We'd be happy to do it.  Ah, here's the police reports right now. 
I'll print them out for you," offered Langly.

"Thanks.  Thanks to all of you for everything you've done for Scully
and me," Mulder said with evident emotion.  

Scully added, "And thanks to Frohike for the huevos rancheros.  They
were definitely on my cravings list."

Frohike grinned and replied, "Oh, we're well aware of the contents
of that list, Agent Scully."

Scully smiled back at him shyly, remembering late night snack runs 
with all three of her friends in tow.  

"So... what do you think you'll do?" Byers asked.  

The question of whether or not Mulder and Scully would return to
Oregon in the near future had been weighing on all three Gunmen's
minds--Byers was nervy enough to ask it.  Three pairs of eyeballs
focused on the expectant parents, their hands casually joined between
them. 

Mulder remained silent, bobbing his head a fraction of an inch in
Scully's direction, telegraphing his desire to abide by her wishes. 
He'd meant every word several hours ago--he'd never leave her again,
for any reason.  It was up to her whether they interviewed the
abductees in person, by phone, or over the internet.  It made no
difference to him, as long as Scully was comfortable with the
investigative method.  He was slightly worried about her travelling
by plane this late in her pregnancy, but he realized there was an
even chance he'd have medical difficulties of his own.  They would
fly to Oregon together or not at all, he thought to himself.

Scully hesitated before she spoke, pulling her lower lip between her
teeth in unconscious deliberation.  Her eyes flitted from one Gunman
to the next, then settled on Mulder's intentionally neutral mask.  He
was determined to let her decide their course of action, and
considering the ill-fated one he'd taken five months ago--one which
had resulted in his abduction and confinement--she understood his
reluctance to influence her choice.

She gave her little audience a megawatt smile and asked, "Hope you
guys know where all the internet bargains are--it's time to cash in
all those frequent flyer miles--"

*********************************************************************
       
February 26th, 2001
Monday
9:00 p.m.
Somewhere over Iowa

"Are you sure you're feeling all right, Scully?" Mulder asked.  She
was readjusting her pillow for the twentieth time since takeoff.

"I'm fine, Mulder... really good.  We had to rush a little but
otherwise I'm happy we left tonight instead of tomorrow morning.  We
got a great deal on these seats, and you know I wouldn't have slept
much tonight anyway," she reminded him.

Scully snuggled closer to his side, burrowing her nose into the soft
jersey of his henley.  The air temperature had to be at least seventy
degrees; they'd shed their jackets as soon as they realized how warm
it was going to be.  What little chill there was from the forced air
flowing through the cabin was offset by Mulder's warm hands, brushing
over her arms and shoulders in hypnotic, circular motions.

"I know.  I wouldn't have either.  Do you think we should have
phoned Teresa and Billy?  They may leave town if the press continues
to harass them," he told her.

"I don't think they'll leave.  You're going to laugh, Mulder... but
I have a feeling they're waiting for us."

He leaned over to gently kiss her forehead, tightening his grip
around her right shoulder.  "I'm not laughing, Scully... I agree with
you.  Billy called us last year when he needed to tell us what was
going down--I doubt if he trusts anyone else to believe him--even if
I ended up being no help at all."

Mulder's dismay was genuine; he'd gone out to Oregon last September
to prevent more abductions, only to find himself among the chosen
few, paralyzed by transfixing white light.  He'd breached the
cloaking force field with his hand, then found himself surrounded by
ethereal, strangulating luminosity.  Blinding illumination--out of
place in the dank, densely wooded area--he knew the minute he crossed
over the invisible barrier he was in another fine mess once again.  

His mind had raced through all the possibilities--could he, would
he, escape this?  Skinner had been a mere fifty feet away, but it
might as well have been fifty miles for all the good it had done him.
There were no exit signs plastered on the perimeter of his new
prison; he was like the ubiquitous Blattella germanica, wandering
into an inviting, all too grim, roach motel.

"They won't blame you, Mulder.  Billy, Ray, all the abductees, know
you're not at fault.  Whoever took you in that forest is responsible
for any harm that's been perpetrated against every one of you.  I
don't think anyone involved in this investigation will suspect the
victims of collusion with their captors."

"I felt so helpless, Scully.  I realized where I was and what what
was going to happen next, but I couldn't turn away from the light. 
It drew me like a moth to a flame--"

"Like a lamb to the slaughter?" she interjected facetiously, tongue
firmly in cheek.

Mulder's lips twisted in perverse delight--it was so nice to get
back to their usual banter.  "Like lemmings to the sea, Scully."

"A fly caught in an endless web," she countered.

"A, a... oh shit, Scully!  I know you're trying to distract me, and
you're doing a good job of it, too," he told her, stroking her
forearm with his fingertips.  "But I have to claim some
responsibility for my own actions.  I knew more than the other
abductees; I should have given them more warning.  I should have told
them all to get out of town, get as far from that ship as possible."

"You didn't know, Mulder.  *We* didn't know what connected the
abductees to one another until you left for Oregon with Skinner.  I
doubt whether you would have stayed in DC if you *had* known about
the anomalous brain activity.  I think you would have gone anyway.  I
think, I know, you would have taken the risk.  You've put yourself in
the line of fire so many times before.  I know you, Mulder, I know
you'd never forgive yourself if you hadn't tried to help Teresa and
Ray and every other person taken that night," she concluded, her
voice wavering slightly at the end of her sentence.

Mulder shook his head vigorously.  "I might have gone to warn them,
Scully.  I might have thought it was the right thing to do... but I
would never have gone if I'd known about the baby.  You know that,
don't you?  I couldn't have left you."

He rubbed his cheek against the silk of her hair, then lowered his
lips to her jawline, showering the sensitive skin there with fleeting
kisses.  

"It may seem like I don't care about my own safety sometimes, and
that's probably all too correct an assumption.  I went back to Oregon
to solve this, to find out what the Consortium, the aliens, are doing
to innocent people.  It's gone on too long, and it has to stop
sometime--but I don't think I would have left you here alone.  I
think I'd be certifiable if I did, Scully.  I would never leave 
you--" 

Mulder whispered his last words close to her ear, then kissed her
lobe gently.  He turned her face toward his with one hand, joining
their lips in a sweet, lasting caress.  They were isolated in the
back of the dimly lit plane--not many people flew this late at night.
Their tranquility was shattered by a noise from the seat in front of
them--both agents found it difficult to contain their laughter when
they realized it was simply a man snoring in his sleep--so loudly he
could be heard throughout the economy class section.

"Think he's trying to tell us something, Scully?" he asked, pulling
the blanket she'd lain across her lap back to its original position.

"I think so," she whispered sotto voce, not wishing to insult the
noisy passenger.  "He needs to go to a sleep clinic!"

"Always seeing it from a physician's perspective, huh?"  He turned
slightly, peering into her sleepy eyes.  "I don't snore, do I?  I
mean, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

"Would you tell me?" she answered playfully.

"No fair, I asked first," he insisted.

"All right.  Let's just say... it's not an immediate problem."

"What?  What does that mean?" he objected.

"I think it'll be thirty years or more before you sound like a
locomotive in your sleep, Mulder."  She reached over and fondly
caressed his cheek.  "I'm happy to put up with a little night music
from you."

"I don't know whether I've been insulted," he told her, in a
deliberately deadpan tone.  "But you know..." he whispered, more
expressively, "I'd be very happy if you put up with me for the next
thirty years, Scully."

For a few minutes she was so quiet he thought she'd fallen asleep
against his shoulder.  He was drifting off himself when he heard her
mumble, "Me, too," in a sleepy soft voice.

fin


Almost Home (23/?)
By Shoshana

February 27th, 2001
Tuesday
Hoese Residence
Bellefleur, Oregon
9:35 a.m.

"Thanks for meeting with us this morning... both of you."  Mulder
glanced from Ray to Teresa Hoese, then back to Scully beside him.

Tabloid rags and sleazy 'news' shows had deluged the couple with
requests for an exclusive interview since they'd emerged from the
tall pine forest near their hometown.  The agents had taken a leap of
faith; they'd flown out to Bellefleur without scheduling an
appointment with their fellow abductees.  When Mulder had contacted
the Hoeses that morning through the Sheriff's department, they'd
returned his call and readily agreed to see them.

The modest bungalow bore no trace of Teresa's violent abduction
months earlier.  Yellow crime scene tape wasn't strewn around the
perimeter of the cozy home, nor were strange marks resembling an acid
spill etched into the kidproof carpeting.  Everything was as it
should be; all the tidying up and repairs had been done by Ray's
mother, hoping against hope her son and daughter-in-law would be
returned.  

Ray had been taken repeatedly over the last eight years and his
parents had participated in a townwide conspiracy of silence 
concerning his mysterious disappearances.  He couldn't have been in 
law enforcement, couldn't have afforded to provide Teresa and their 
child with a decent lifestyle, if everyone was privy to his secret.  

His wife's family had been similarly discreet concerning Teresa's
fewer, but nonetheless disturbing abductions over the years.  Both
Ray and Billy Miles had managed to land jobs with the local police
because of their parents' popularity in the community.  No one who
knew the truth questioned the wisdom of their appointments to the
force, either because they liked the young men personally, or they
too had relatives who'd been torn away from their families by the
same nameless intruders from the sky.

"It's no problem at all, Agent Mulder.  We remember very little of
the last five months or so... but we do know the price you paid for
trying to help us.  Our friends and relatives filled us in on the
search for the missing FBI agent while we were all gone.  I guess it
drew some unwelcome attention to our town, but that's nothing new
here, as you are both already know," Ray told them.

Teresa nodded her head in silent agreement and smiled wanly at her
guests.  She appeared to have lost almost twenty pounds during her
ordeal, no longer the vibrant woman who'd recently given birth to a
child.  Ray seemed a bit scrawny, maybe fifteen pounds underweight,
though no more so than Mulder had been on his return.  It was a
mystery--how had they all maintained muscle tone during their
captivity--did their kidnappers have a secret formula for keeping
them fit, yet were unable to sustain their body weight?

"Are you both okay?  We read the local police report at the station
this morning, and we know you were taken straight to the emergency
room after you flagged down some campers yesterday.  We don't have
access to your medical records at the moment and we were concerned
about you," Scully remarked.

"We're okay," Teresa affirmed.  "Not like other times at all, thank
God.  Both of us are relatively healthy considering how much weight
we seem to have lost.  We have no scars or needle marks.  If they
didn't want to do physical tests on us--we can't imagine why we were
taken.  Do you know why?"

"We have a few theories, but nothing set in stone.  Mulder wasn't
harmed physically, as far as we can tell.  There was some memory
loss, especially concerning whatever happened to him while he was
confined.  He's regained a fraction of those memories; they're still
hazy and disconnected.  Which leads me to my next question--have you
forgotten any events in your lives prior to your abduction last
September?" Scully asked.

Teresa glanced over at her husband, swallowing hard.  They hadn't
discussed every aspect of their nightmarish adventure, preferring to
tell each other as little as necessary.  They'd both been interviewed
by law enforcement yesterday, but revealed as little as possible to
Ray's former colleagues.  Claiming exhaustion, they'd asked to be
excused until a later date when they'd thought things through more
clearly.  

The current Deputy Sheriff was mildly irritated, but understood the
need to be reunited as soon as possible with their child.  He'd asked
them to write down whatever they could last night, but both Ray and
his wife found it impossible to adequately express themselves on 
paper.  They were in bed by eight o'clock, their child snuggled 
between them.

"I can only speak for myself.  I barely remember the events leading
up to our disappearance, because I was incapitated by whoever,
whatever, took me from my family.  I remember seeing Agent Mulder
step into a circle of light... after that... I just don't know... I
have vague memories of being restrained in a hospital bed.  That's
about it for the last five months, I'm sorry to say," Ray apologized.

Teresa agreed with a slight bob of her head.  "It's pretty much the
same for me.  I haven't forgotten my life before we were taken.  I
remember standing in the forest, seeing so many familiar faces around
me, then seeing Agent Mulder.  I guess we should be thankful we don't
recollect more," she sighed.

Mulder shook his head and sent them both a sad, sympathetic smile. 
"Maybe so, but if you have any post-traumatic symptoms, you probably
should see a therapist.  That's not my opinion as a professional, Mr.
and Mrs. Hoese.  It's just my hope for you as a friend."

"Thanks, Agent Mulder.  We appreciate everything you've done for us.
But the real question now is... do you think they'll be back for us?"
Ray asked.

Teresa squeezed Ray's hand firmly, his eyes meeting hers fondly. 
They waited patiently for Mulder to respond, "I don't know.  I have
to find out why we were taken first.  That's why--"

Mulder was interrupted by a toddler's cry, bleating from the baby
monitor positioned prominently on the Hoese's coffee table.  Teresa
gave her guests a nervous smile, then rose from the couch.  

Before she ascended the stairway leading to the second floor, she
turned around and addressed Scully, "Come along?"

Scully glanced over at Mulder, seeking and finding silent approval. 
Divide and conquer, he'd always told her.  People were more easily
persuaded one on one, especially under these circumstances.  Scully
realized this was more than an ordinary interrogation of witnesses--
these people were their friends, and what they had to ask of them was
above and beyond the call of duty.  Even for law enforcement 
personnel.

Scully followed Teresa to the nursery where the now eighteen-month
old child was broadcasting his displeasure.  His mother picked him up
and placed him on the changing table immediately.  The baby had been
fed moments before Mulder and Scully arrived at their doorstep, so
she knew what the problem had to be.

"Please sit down, Agent Scully," Teresa said, motioning toward the
white rocker nearby.  She efficiently changed the baby while
continuing their conversation, "You know, he remembered me," she told
Scully, her voice cracking with emotion.  "I was so afraid, almost
six months gone... I thought he might forget--"

"Was he with your parents?" Scully inquired.

"Yes.  Ray's, actually.  I guess I should be grateful he doesn't
wonder what happened to his mother all these months.  That's why
we're so concerned--what happens when he's older, when he can figure
it out for himself.  Or maybe the kids at school will tease him about
his missing Mom or Dad.  I just don't know what to think anymore,"
Teresa said, a note of despair coloring her voice.

"We're going to solve this, Mrs. Hoese.  But we need your help. 
Desperately," Scully said, losing a fraction of her composure in
response to Teresa's malaise.  

Teresa turned all the way around, pulled by Scully's plaintive tone.

"Are you at risk, too?  Because of Agent Mulder--is the baby--"  

It was an educated guess on her part, relying on her previous
impressions of Mulder and Scully--and how they'd related to the baby
last time they'd all been in the same room together.  Teresa had
sensed the agents were involved with one another; she hadn't had the
nerve to hint of such a thing, not even when Scully showed up on her
doorstep, obviously well along in her pregnancy.  The Hoeses had
acknowledged her condition with broad smiles, offering her the most
comfortable chair in their living room.  Beyond that, they'd both
been too shy to ask for confirmation of parentage.

Scully fought back tears, treading a fine line between
professionalism and personal interest.  No one could be more
sympathetic to their plight than a fellow abductee like Teresa, with
a small child to protect from seemingly random, senseless harm. 
Scully needed the Hoese's cooperation, but didn't want to burden them
with unfounded fears.  There was no evidence the aliens were
interested in taking young children from abductee parents--at least
not yet.

"We're just concerned right now, Teresa.  May I call you Teresa?" 
Scully continued when the young mother bobbed her head, "We don't
know what lies ahead for our family.  Whatever we discover could
benefit us all, but we need your help to do some research.  We need
to ask a lot of you and Ray."

"What sort of research?  Tests?"  Teresa's voice quavered on her
last word, one with so many negative connotations.

Scully swallowed hard, hating herself for asking so much of someone
so fragile, so recently traumatized by losing months of her life, of
her child's life.

"Blood tests, and non-invasive tests like MRIs, CT scans.  All the
abductees from Oregon had anomalous brain activity, including you and
Ray.  We'd like to know if your child has a similar condition." 
Scully shook her head, attempting to stave Teresa's fear, etched
clearly across her face.  "No harm would be done.  I promise you."

Teresa nodded her head, then turned back to her toddler, checking
his diaper one last time.  She lifted him from the table, hesitating
slightly, then crossing the room to Scully.  She gently transferred
the baby to the seated agent, smiling at the look of wonder in
Scully's eyes.

Scully cradled the child in her arms, speaking a few nonsense words
to make him giggle.  "He's beautiful, Teresa."

"Yours will be, too.  They all are, Agent Scully."

"Please call me Dana," Scully insisted.

"Dana, then," Teresa agreed.  "Do you think we can wait a few days? 
I think it will be easier to convince my husband when we've had a
little more time to rest."

"I don't see why not.  Mulder and I don't have to be here.  You can
have your doctor fax the test results to us.  I can't promise you
anything, Teresa.  But you can imagine how much your help means to
both of us.  It may safeguard our child's future," Scully told her,
carefully passing the child back to his mother.

Scully stood up slowly, gaining leverage with her feet.  Her own
baby chose that moment to use her womb for kickball practice, causing
her to wobble slightly on her feet. One hand flew to her stomach, the
other balanced against the baby's crib.

"Are you okay?" Teresa asked with concern.

"Oh, yeah.  I'm fine," answered Scully automatically.  She added,
"Just a little reminder to Mom, I guess.  He's getting more active
lately."   

"Am I interrupting anything?" Mulder asked from the nursery doorway.

Scully beamed at him.  He looked handsome in the suit he'd
been loath to wear while on medical leave.  She'd convinced him to
bring it along, just in case.  Her clothes were less versatile--tunic
tops in black, brown or navy--leggings with a similar color palette. 
Last month the saleslady at the maternity store had frowned when
she'd refused to consider brighter shades; it would have been
impossible to explain why she favored somber ones, at least until
Mulder came home.  Maybe it's time for a change, Scully mused to
herself.

"No, not at all, Agent Mulder.  The baby is changed, and Dana and I
had a good talk, didn't we?" Teresa said while bouncing her child
gently in her arms.

"Well, *Dana*," Mulder said with a smile.  "I just got a call from
Billy.  He'd like to see us.  You up for that?"

"Are you done speaking with Ray?" Scully asked, amused by the use of
her first name under the circumstances.

"I think so.  I hope so," he responded.  

Mulder cast a worried glance toward Teresa.  He was reassured
immediately by her tranquil demeanor as well as Scully's ease in her
presence.  The womenfolk had been up to something, he knew that for
sure.

"Let's get moving then.  We have a few more stops before we meet
with Billy," Mulder urged.

"Hold on," Scully said.  

She crossed the room to Teresa and whispered something in her ear. 
Teresa nodded once, then smiled brightly.  Scully leaned over to kiss
the baby, then patted his mother's hand.

"Take care, Teresa.  I'll call you within the week."

"You take care of yourself, Dana.  Allow Ray to show you out.  I
think I'll spend a few more minutes here."

Mulder stepped forward and attempted to shake Teresa's hand, ending
up with a bit of gurgling baby in his face.  He tickled the child
gently, resulting in giggles from the baby and laughter from the
adults.

"Thank you, Teresa," Mulder said, putting his arm around Scully's
waist, escorting her down the stairs and out of the house.

A few photographers waited miserably in the cold on the periphery of
the Hoese property.  They'd been warned to stay behind an invisible
line by Ray's fellow officers that morning.  The newsmongers ignored
Mulder and Scully, unaware the duo were newsworthy in their own way. 
Apparently flyers had stopped circulating with Mulder's mug the
previous week when Skinner had relayed the news of his return to
local law enforcement.

The partners were halfway down the sidewalk which led to the Hoese
front door when Mulder could no longer contain himself.

"What did you whisper to Teresa back there, Scully?" he asked.

"Ah, wouldn't you like to know," she said with an air of mystery.

"Everything's all right, isn't it?  I mean, I just assumed it was
from the way you were--"

"Oh, Mulder.  Everything's just fine.  She's agreed to the tests. 
Not right away, though."

"So, what did you tell her?" he insisted.

Scully grinned at his persistence, then snickered softly.  "I told
her, 'Doesn't he look great in that suit?'"

"Scully!  You are so full of it."  Mulder stopped her in front of
the driver side door.  "What did you really say?"

"It had absolutely nothing to do with you, Mulder.  You're just
paranoid enough to believe anything."  She pushed him gently toward
the sedan door.  "So there!" she said, strolling toward the passenger
side. 

"I'm not totally paranoid," he mumbled under his breath.

"What's that you say, Mulder?" she turned and asked, close to
laughter.

"Get in the car, Scully," he ordered goodnaturedly.

"Tyrant."

"Tease."

"Not me.  I'm a respectable pregnant lady.  By the way, Mulder,
where's our tail?  Did you tell Skinner where we were going last
night?"

"I left a message on his answering machine.  If they followed us
here, I haven't seen them.  They must be damn good if Mr. Paranoid
hasn't detected them, don't you agree?" Mulder grumbled.

Scully reached over the seat and took his hand in her own,
caressing his knuckles with her thumb.  "They must be very good, I
imagine."  

He pulled her hand to his face, locking their fingers together
beside his cheek.  "Not as good as you are, Sherlock."

They smiled at one another, then he gave her hand a mannerly kiss,
releasing it to buckle his seatbelt.

"Where to?" she asked.

"Back to the station.  They've compiled a full list of returned
abductees, with possible alternative hideouts from the press.  I
guess the 'Weekly World News' has been busy harassing these people,
and most of them have fled their own homes.  I don't know if we can
get to everyone on the list in just a few days.  I'm not even sure we
need to.  What do you think?"

"I think we need to do what we can.  And I think I'd rather be doing 
this than sitting around at home worrying about what the Consortium 
has in store for us," she responded.

"I don't want you overexerting yourself, Scully.  I'm beginning to
wonder if I shouldn't have made you stay home--"

"No way, G-Man.  I'm not leaving you to your own devices and losing
you again.  It's only a couple days, right?  And you promised to stay
out of the woods, didn't you?" she purred, straightening the collar
of his dress shirt.

Mulder intercepted her hand, twining their fingers together.  "I
have a pretty good incentive to stay in my motel room tonight," he
answered, voice low and silky.

"The same one you had last night?" she smiled, continuing the
flirtation.

"I sure hope so," he whispered back.

He smiled back at her, resisting the temptation of even the chastest
kiss considering their ready-made audience of paparazzi.

"Let's get going," he said before turning the key in the ignition.

"Let's," she responded, her attention already drawn to Billy Miles's
medical file on the seat between them.

After a few short stops, they arrived at Billy's temporary quarters
at a friend's home.  There were a few stray reporters here, too,
wincing as a light rain began to sprinkle around them.

Billy had lost body mass also, much more than Mulder or Ray had.  A
slim man before the abduction, he was a ghost of the man they both
remembered.  He welcomed the agents and offered them coffee, smiling
at Scully when he told her decaf was available.  She smiled back and
took him up on it, sitting down on the couch next to Mulder.

"My aunt sent over some sandwiches, if you're hungry, Agents," he
offered his guests as he made the instant coffee.

"Thanks, Billy.  Maybe we'll hold off for now.  We have a few other
stops to make," apologized Scully.

Mulder repressed a scowl; he didn't like to see her skip meals
anymore.  She'd always ignored lunchtime on the road, preferring to
catch up in their motel rooms at night.  Of course, this notion was
based on his limited memories of their last year together.  He'd
tried to reach farther back than October of 1999, hoping to recall
more about their life together.  His mind always failed him, only
able to reminisce from some point after his non-elective brain
surgery.  It didn't really matter if she declined a sandwich here, he
told himself, making a mental note to drag his beloved to a local 
diner shortly after their visit with Billy.

"If you change your mind, Agent Scully, don't hesitate to tell me,"
Billy added.  "My aunt is just trying to fatten me up.  Problem is,
I've lost most of my appetite."

Mulder nodded with understanding.  Images of his own confinement had
begun drifting into his consciousness every waking hour since
Saturday's episode at the summer house.  He wasn't about to reveal
any of those memories to Scully just yet, even if Billy related
identical experiences to them.

They all sipped their coffee for a minute until Billy initiated the
conversation, "You saw Ray and Teresa, then?"

"Yes, we did.  I'm glad to see them doing so well," Scully responded.

Billy looked around the living room sadly, then met her eyes. 
"They'll have nightmares later.  We're all so used to this by now,
it's pathetic.  I want to help you, agents.  I want to stop this from
happening again.  I've had enough--all these good people who are
taken repeatedly have had enough.  Can't you help us?"  

His last plea was so heartfelt; Scully wished she could embrace
Billy and tell him they'd do whatever they could to stop the
cycle of abductions.  She balanced her coffee cup in her hands,
slightly swollen from pregnancy.  Maintaining a completely objective
demeanor didn't mix with their mission here; these people were not 
only victims, they were their friends.  

Fate had brought them together again and Scully felt cornered by
forces beyond her control.  She sensed Mulder felt as helpless as she
did--he sat in stony silence beside her, lost in his own thoughts. 
He rarely zoned out when they were on investigations, but this was
different--she knew he wasn't telling her the whole story of his
captivity.  She wouldn't push him to do so, nor would she sit idly by
when they returned to DC.  Mulder needed to start seeing a therapist
as much as the Hoeses--the sooner the better.

Mulder surprised her by speaking up, "We could use a little help,
Billy.  Do you know some of the abductees with children?"

"A few.  Why?" Billy asked.

"They might be more easily persuaded if a familiar face asked them
to help our investigation," Mulder responded.

"I'll help you any way I can, but you must realize we're all scared.
We want to help, but we don't want to be taken again,"  Billy 
fretted.

"We'd like to see if certain traits of the parents are passed on to
their children.  It might help us determine why you were taken.  We
hesitate to ask this... we'll understand if people don't want to 
help... all we can do is ask and hope for the best," Scully told him.

Billy smiled shyly, and nodded his head affirmatively.  "I'll go
along with you, introduce you to the ones most likely to agree.  I'm
sure it will be more helpful if I'm with you."

"Thank you, Billy.  You have no idea how much this means to us,"
Scully said, placing her cup on the table before her.

"We can go now, if you like.  I'll call ahead."

"Thanks, Billy," Mulder added, gulping down the rest of his coffee
before rising from the couch.

Billy took their cups and went into the kitchen to call the other
abductees.  Mulder took hold of Scully's hands, making her giggle
softly as he pulled her to a standing position in front of the couch.
He put his arm around her shoulder and sprinkled the crown of her
head with a few gentle kisses.

"Mulder," she scolded, "This is work."

"Oh, is that what this is?" he laughed, lowering his hand to her
thigh.

The jingle of Billy's car keys warned them of his approach and they
sprang apart seconds before he re-entered the room.  Scully fussed
with her hair nervously while Mulder studied his shoes with interest.
Although Billy had probably figured out their relationship months 
ago--when they'd arrived to help him prevent more abductions--acting
unprofessional was never in their best interest.  

"Ready?" Billy inquired with a grin.

"You bet," Scully answered, confidently striding toward the door with
Mulder right behind her.

fin

Almost Home (24/?)
By Shoshana

February 27th, 2001
Tuesday
10:13 p.m.
A motel room
Bellefleur, Oregon

Scully hugged the extra pillow between her knees, listening to the
now familiar sound of Mulder's nightly routine.  She fidgeted on her
side of the bed, rearranging her nightgown for the umpteenth time
since crawling under the covers.  The mattress swayed gently as he
came to bed, sliding across the sheets to mold his body behind hers.

Mulder threaded his arm around her expanded waistline, resting his
palm on the slope of her belly.  Warm lips caressed the nape of her
neck, cold toes became better acquainted with her own.  She hummed
with contentment, burying her cheek against the soft cotton of the
pillowcase.

The bed clothes smelled of sweet detergent and fabric softener, but
Mulder tasted minty when she turned her head to receive his kiss.
Just over a week now, she thought.  He's been home such a short while
and we've already settled into a routine.

They were both too tired for anything but sleep, yet she sensed some
agitation on Mulder's part, something left unsaid in the last few
hours at the motel.

"What's wrong?" she whispered, stroking her thumb across his hand.

"Oh, you're too tired.  It can wait," he muttered.

Mulder nuzzled her shoulder gently, then rained small kisses across
her shoulder blades.  It was soothing to her until his mouth returned
to her neckline, chancing upon a ticklish square inch just above her
shirt.

"Ooh," she cried softly, squirming back against his chest.
"Tickles."

"Sorry," Mulder apologized.

"Don't be."  After several silent seconds, she demanded, "Tell me
what's wrong, Mulder.  I'm too curious to fall asleep now."

He repositioned his arms around her, one stretching beneath the
pillow, the other cradling her belly.  She waited patiently for him
to speak, long acquainted with the brief pauses he often took before
telling her something significant.

"I wanna go home tomorrow, Scully," he told her pensively.

She hesitated in her response, expecting more of an explanation.
When he remained silent, she spoke calmly, "Okay.  We don't have to
stay.  Billy hooked us up with several receptive parents who'll allow
their kids to be tested when things settle down around here.  There's
no reason to hang around, Mulder."

"I know I said we should go out to the abduction site, Scully, but
I've changed my mind.  Frankly, I've had enough of Bellefleur for the
rest of my life.  It gives me the creeps, Scully."

Scully laughed softly, her lips forming a wry smile.  "Knowing your
threshold for creepiness, I guess we better get out of Dodge,
partner."

Mulder chuckled, then caressed her neck softly with his nose.  He
lifted his head slightly, attending to her small, delectable earlobe
with his tongue.  She shivered at the contact, pleasantly exhilarated
despite her fatigue.

"I don't feel comfortable here, that's all," he added.

She slowly shifted in his arms, coming to rest on her back so she
could see his eyes gleaming in the filtered light from the stylized
lantern outside their door.  He propped himself up on one elbow,
inches away from her.  His free hand sought out her left one, lacing
their fingers neatly together.

"Me, neither," she admitted, meeting his gaze.

"Good.  I mean, I don't want you to stay here if you don't want to,
Scully.  I think we did what we had to--now I just want to leave.  I
don't have any curiosity about these woods.  I don't want you hiking
around as far along as you are."

"Oh, I'd be all right," she said quickly.

"Yeah, probably.  But what's the point in going out there?  If I was
truly taken aboard a ship--it's not there anymore--I'm fairly sure of
that.  If I was kept at some facility, I think the boys would have
found it with their satellite maps.  You already checked out all
major structures around here months ago.  And you know there wouldn't
be any evidence left behind anyway.  I think we need to get on with
our lives back home; I want to get back to work, plus all the plans
your mom has for us--"

"Ha!  Don't worry about my mom.  She's a military wife.  She's used
to changing plans at the drop of a hat."

"You want to?  Change plans, that is?" he asked with some
trepidation.

Scully realized within seconds what he thought she meant.  She
sighed with exasperation, "No, Mulder.  I don't mean *not* get
married.  I'm just saying, if we need to postpone she won't go
ballistic.  Family events always were last minute affairs; there were
times we didn't know where we'd be living the next month of our
lives.  It didn't pay to plan too far ahead."

Mulder grazed his fingers down her cheek, then leaned over to kiss
her on the mouth.  "No wonder you put up with me, Scully.  I haven't
given you much advance notice, have I?"

She smiled up at him, "Especially when you'd tear off in the car
without me, Mulder.  No notice is more like it," she complained
goodnaturedly.

"I was bad, wasn't I?" he admitted.

"Very bad," she responded, reaching over to capture his hand.  She
gripped it tightly, lifting his fingertips to her lips.

"Wanna punish me?" he managed to say between chortling laughter on
both their parts.

Scully tugged at his arm, then lowered the register of her voice,
"Get over here and I will right now, G-Man."

Mulder grinned roguishly, then carefully gathered her into his arms.
Their lips met for several minutes, until they relaxed away from the
kiss, remaining in a side by side embrace.

"You need to rest," he said, tenderly tracing her mouth with his
index finger.

"I will," she pledged.  "Later."

He snickered softly, then bridged the gap between them, pulling her
as close as he could, with special deference to her expanded figure.
His hands coursed down her back, paying close attention to the bumpy
knobs of her vertebral column.

She sighed with obvious pleasure; this was what she had yearned for,
all those lonely months.  A simple back massage was as welcome as
every other aspect of their intimacy, including lovemaking.  She'd
missed it all and she had it now--she felt tears trickle down her
cheeks in spite of a mighty struggle to contain them.

"Oh, Scully," he crooned softly when he felt the wetness on her
cheeks.  "You're crying."

She shook her head as he cradled her cheeks with his large palmed
hands.  "Happy," was all she uttered before their mouths met again,
lips moist with passion and salty tears.

Mulder paused to swipe his thumbs across her face, gathering the
last traces of moisture from beneath her eyes.

"Me, too," he breathed into her lips, before kissing her again.
"Let's get some sleep, okay?"

She felt his smile as he brushed his lips against her forehead.
"Okay."

Scully turned onto her right side, then readjusted the pillow
between her knees.  As if on cue, Mulder snuggled close to her body
again, draping his arms around her waist.  Her feet sought out the
warm flesh of his shins and his hand left her side for brief seconds,
pulling the bedcovers over her shoulder.

*********************************************************************
February 28th, 2001
Wednesday
United Airlines Flight 920
3:59 p.m.
Thirty minutes away from Dulles airport

Scully held on to her left forearm with great effort, steadying it
so she could read the digital readout.  Twenty minutes between
Braxton-Hicks contractions, she thought to herself.  Damn, damn,
damn.  She couldn't possibly be going into labor now.

She knew these mild contractions increased towards the end of
pregnancy and were more common for women who'd had at least one child
before.  This didn't prevent her from fretting over their frequency
and intensity.  They might increase in regularity for several hours,
then become farther apart and gradually fade away.

They *should* fade away!  She was nowhere near thirty-seven weeks
pregnant, when she should first see signs of preterm labor.  She
didn't want to alarm Mulder, who was presently sprawled out in the
seat beside her own, lost in dreamland.

The contractions were somewhat erratic, occuring every twenty to
forty minutes--and they weren't increasing in intensity like Scully
knew they should if she was actually in labor.  She'd drunk her whole
bottle of water since the flight had begun several hours ago, trying
to manage what she hoped were unproductive contractions.

Fortunately, it had been non-stop from Portland to DC--a five hour
flight leaving at 8:40.  Mulder had been up at the crack of dawn,
making arrangements with the airline.  It was costing a fortune; he
hadn't wanted to rush and make an cheaper, earlier flight the Bureau
would have preferred.

He'd told her he just wanted to get out of town, didn't care if they
had to make up the difference when 'Chesty' Short bitched about it
during their next audit from hell.  If there ever was one.  She
wasn't so sure they'd get to keep the X-Files after all.

The silence from the powers that be was peculiar; she'd expected a
review board almost immediately after Mulder's reappearance in DC.
It hadn't happened yet, pending some decision from above Skinner's
level of bureaucracy.

She dreaded the consequences of an OPR meeting.  Theoretically, they
could close the X-Files, could separate her and Mulder, could strip
them of access to resources she needed to study the medical records
of all the abductees and a select few of their children.

Worrying about these possibilities distracted Scully from her
physical problems, but didn't prevent her next contraction from
occurring at four o'clock.  They were still twenty minutes apart,
still the same moderate intensity.  She couldn't wake Mulder this
soon before they landed, she thought.

Ultimately, she had no choice but to tell him.  He'd already awoken,
and was staring at her as she let out a tiny gasp, then gripped the
circumference of her belly with her hands.

"Scully?" he asked, rousing himself from his sleep state quickly.

Mulder rubbed his forehead with his hands, wishing he had some
pain relievers, yet knowing his first priority was definitely not his
own welfare.

"What is it, Scully?" he persisted when she didn't say anything.

Her eyes betrayed her anxious state and Mulder pulled his body out
of a relaxed slouch.  He reached over with one hand, tenderly
embracing the right side of her face.

"Tell me," he demanded.

He noticed red marks on her lips, tender flesh she'd gnawed at with
worry.  The thumb of his right hand traced over her lips lightly, and
he could feel a slight tremor course through her body.

"Scully," he entreated, his hand coming to rest on her cheek again.

"It's nothing, Mulder.  Really," she said unconvincingly.

"Are you having contractions?" he guessed correctly.

Scully opened her eyes wide and nodded affirmatively, appreciative
of his insight.  Mulder must have been peeking at her pregnancy
manuals, especially after their visit to Dr. Myers on Monday.

"They're too far apart, Mulder.  And they don't feel like real
labor.  I mean, I don't know for sure, but I don't think this is it.
Okay?  I wasn't hiding from you.  I just didn't want you to panic."

Mulder fixed his eyes upon her with a penetrating gaze, one
betraying a calm she'd seen many times in the field.  He seemed to be
approaching this whole pregnancy as one prolonged investigation,
researching it as he would any other adventure they'd embarked on.
His attitude was contagious; she felt herself relaxing against her
seat, forgetting her obsession with timing the contractions.

He gave her a quick smile, then said, "Wake me next time.  You don't
have to go through this alone, Scully.  I want to be here for you,
okay?  Now, what happened, again?"

"Braxton-Hicks contractions or false labor.  I'm not sure which, but
they're twenty minutes apart," she reported tersely.

"Is that bad?" he asked, one hand scrubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Not necessarily.  They're irregular; they aren't getting stronger
and closer together with time.  I guess I just got a little worried
there, but it's nothing, Mulder.  I'm a doctor, remember?"

"A doctor who's delivered one baby in her life--one who's had to do
extracurricular reading in a field she vaguely remembers from med
school--"

"Vague, my ass!  I aced my exams in prenatal care," she countered.

"Yeah, and I graduated with first honors in psychology, Scully.  It
didn't prevent me from ending up in a padded cell, did it?"

"That was different, Mulder.  You couldn't have avoided that.  It's
a ridiculous comparison."

"Well, I can think of other times I lost my cool demeanor and ended
up in four point restraints.  My point is, you don't have to do this
on your own.  Just because you studied pregnancy or got an 'A' on the
exam doesn't mean you have to see your own experience from a clinical
perspective.  Every day I look at you--see you grow--it's amazing to
me, Scully.  It was incredible before last Saturday when I wasn't all
that sure who I was anymore."

Scully sat open-mouthed, a smile reaching her eyes as she took in
his testimony.  He was correct--she'd seen her pregnancy clinically
before he'd arrived home, protecting herself from the disappointment
of going through the whole experience alone.  Even after he'd
returned to her, she'd been reluctant to let her guard down and
accept all the help he was willing to give.  It was just an extension
of her normal, nonpregnant personality, unaffected by hormones, off-
side kicks inside her womb, or cravings for Ben and Jerry's.

She swallowed hard and cleared her throat.  "I guess I should have
said something.  But really--I don't think there's anything to worry
about.  If I get up and walk around a little the contractions should
go away."  She reached over and patted his cheek assuringly.  "I'm
not hiding from you, Mulder.  I can't even lie to you--how would I
ever lie to you?" she concluded with a smile.

Their conversation was interrupted by the usual announcement to
fasten one's seatbelt and prepare for landing.  They spent the rest
of the flight quietly, holding hands, watching the green fields of
western Virginia fly by and the familiar cityscape of DC rise to
greet them.

fin


Almost Home (25/?)
By Shoshana

February 28th, 2001
Wednesday
6:15 p.m.
Scully's apartment
Georgetown

Mulder and Scully sat at opposite ends of the couch staring at the
offensive sheet of paper on the coffee table.  Crumpled and misshapen
by Mulder's initial fit of anger, it rocked precariously on the edge
of the wooden surface.  Ten minutes ago he'd read the summons aloud
at her request while she'd bustled about her apartment, opening the
drapes, turning the heat on to take the chill off the late winter
night.

"Skinner--"

"Just got his too, Scully.  There's a time stamp of five o'clock. 
He either didn't know about this or he's not allowed to communicate
with hearing participants.  I don't think he tried to pull a fast one
on us by not warning us in advance.  He's known where we were the
last few days."

Scully played idly with the hem of her tunic top.  She'd managed to
take her winter coat off before Mulder finished reading the entire
missive.  He still wore his leather jacket, shoulders tense from his
spontaneous outburst.  

They both had known it was possible--that Mulder could be called
before the OPR, forced to explain his mysterious disappearance five
months ago.  The time and effort of dozens of FBI agents and vast
financial resources had been expended to search for him last fall. 
The search had tapered off as autumn leaves left the lush Capitol
greenery, dwindling to nil by the season's first snowfall.

Scully, Skinner, and the Gunmen had continued to look for their
friend, never abandoning the fervent hope Mulder would show up in
some local emergency room.  The men remembered Scully's return from
oblivion all too well; she only knew secondhand accounts of her
initial stay at Northeast Georgetown Medical Center.  

It was one of the hospitals on their primary checklist--every
morning, afternoon, and night their high-speed Pentiums would search
lists of John Does for certain distinguishing characteristics--red
flags that should make Mulder's admittance to a hospital impossible
to miss.

Ironically, Mulder hadn't ended up in any medical facility they'd
been monitoring; he'd hitchhiked his way to Portland, flying home in
a comfortable jet.  He'd been shell shocked the entire way home,
gazing with disbelief at the date on all the newspapers he could
muster.

His worries had been far from over, of course.  Life had thrown him
another curve ball on top of his seemingly extreme case of amnesia--a
red-headed partner three months shy of her due date.  Said partner
sat across from him tonight, skimming her elegantly done manicure
over the seat cushion beside her.  

Scully had remained unflustered, observing him with a cool sense of
composure as he'd crushed the OPR letter between his hands--then
thought better of his action, unfurling the abused sheet, flattening
it on top of the coffee table.  He'd then settled into the couch,
smiling sheepishly for a brief moment.  His mood had darkened in less
than a minute as they'd pondered the consequences of the official
inquiry.

"What will you say?"  Scully asked him, as of yet unflustered by the
matter at hand.

Mulder rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers, then threaded
his hands through his hair, pushing it off his forehead.  

"Argh."  He shook his head from side to side, eyes wide open,
perplexed beyond words for one of the few times in his life.

"You don't have to tell them what happened, Mulder.  You haven't
told me," she said in a tone of voice she hoped didn't sound the
least bit accusatory.  She didn't want him to feel bad about keeping
this to himself.  Lord knows she hadn't been completely honest about
what she remembered from her abduction experience.

He turned his face toward her, jaw clenched slightly, pain evident
in his mossy-colored eyes.  He didn't want to have this conversation,
not now, perhaps not forever.  Especially not while she was pregnant
with her first and perhaps only child.

"I need to show up, Scully.  I'll lose my job if I don't.  I know
they'll think I'm a nut job when I tell them about Bellefleur, about
the ship, about the little I remember of my abduction.  I'm so hazy
on details--I'm not sure whether I dreamed what happened to me during
my captivity.  For all I know, everything I remember from the last
five months could be an implanted memory."

She considered this with some gravity, nodding her head as she
curled her lip with the edge of her teeth.  He considered this her
'thinking mode' and couldn't suppress a tiny smile as he admired her
zen-like calm.  

Scully caught the tail end of his grin, smiling back and asking,
"What?"

"Nothing," he lied, not wishing to explain everything he loved about
her just yet.  He didn't want her to feel self-conscious about every
little thing she did.  And he wanted to keep the discussion on track
for now.

Her eyes kept smiling as she retorted, "I'll bet.  Something's on
your mind, Fox Mulder.  Give it up.  I want to know, too."

Mulder shook his head no, fully aware she didn't believe him for one
DC minute.  His palms rubbed up and down the rough fabric of his
jeans, then tapped a staccato beat against his thighs.  He had a 
plan--one he'd been formulating for days.  It had been too soon to 
reveal it to her on their trip to Bellefleur, but now might be a good
time to tell all.

He turned to face her, slinging his arm over the back of the couch. 
Their hands were still too far apart to meet, but he considered that
a good thing for the moment.  They needed to discuss the future as
sensibly as possible; he was much more rational when he wasn't
touching her.  

He thought she might feel the same way--they'd made an art out of
avoiding one another physically on the job last year, especially
after they'd become physically intimate.  There was so much heat
between them when they were alone in their own homes, it became
difficult to touch casually at work.

Mulder studied her for a moment.  She was waiting patiently for his
reply, accustomed to long pauses in their conversations, particularly
ones this important in the scheme of things.  He decide to go for it,
take a chance she wouldn't banish him to Alpha Centauri the minute
she heard his plan.

"I'll go to the hearing, Scully.  I'm obligated to do so.  To tell
the truth.  I'm not going to lie about what I think may have happened
to me."

"It didn't only happen to you, Mulder.  Other abductees have been
returned.  We have evidence, medical records, personal accounts.  You
don't have to feel like a kook anymore.  God knows it took me years
to believe," she told him with a grin.  "I'll be there.  I'll back
you up with what medical evidence we have."

He smiled at her, wanting to bridge the physical gap between them,
but resisting the temptation for now.  "I know you will.  I know I'll
piss off fifty per cent of the panel with my talk of alien abduction
and brain waves and cloaked space ships.  The other fifty per cent
might actually listen to me."  He paused, taking in a long, steady
breath before his bombshell.  "It will be great to get it off my
chest.  Almost like therapy.  But Scully, after I tell them what
happened, after they make a decision whether or not to retain me as
an agent or to keep the X-Files open--what happens after that?  We go
back to investigating the paranormal when we know there's more
important things--"

"You want to quit?"  Scully interrupted.  

She'd had a horrible sinking feeling about this since he'd read the
letter to her.  Just as she'd expected, he wanted to quit the bureau.
It was too soon--too much had happened to him in the last week and a
half.  He'd had to make the physical and emotional adjustment of
being home for the first time in months, discovering a ready-made
family waiting for him.  He'd recovered part of his memory, but would
that be all--would he always wonder about the years he had lost?

Mulder waved his hands in the air in protest, then covered his mouth
with one hand, debating his response.  Scully seemed agitated, anger
bleeding through her previously calm composure.  His best guess was
that she was furious because he hadn't mentioned anything about this
before tonight.  She might be willing to listen to his rationale for
quitting the bureau; it was the perceived deception that was pissing
her off.

Scully sighed heavily, then launched herself from the couch with a
lot less difficulty than either of them would have expected.  He
practically leaped off the couch, but she raised her hand in a silent
gesture, asking him not to follow her.  He fell back, sitting down on
the edge of the couch, watching as she walked to the window
overlooking the parking lot.

Her back turned to him, her voice caught as she spoke.  He knew she
was fighting back tears; he just didn't know why.

"Mulder, I don't think you can make a decision like this right now. 
I know everything has happened so fast.  I know you're struggling to
integrate your life before you met me with the last year of your
life.  But you can't do this anymore.  You can't make decisions by
yourself anymore."

She turned around slowly and he saw the tears she'd shed already,
streaming down her cheeks.  "We can't raise a child, be a family, if
you don't want to include me.  How could you come to such a decision
without so much as asking me how I felt about it?"

"I am asking you," he interrupted.  "I'm asking you now," he
answered.  

He wanted to rush over to her and gather her into his arms--he
resisted the impulse, wary of her mood.

"You sounded like you had already made your decision, Mulder. 
You've never asked me what I want to do after my maternity leave is
over.  We've never discussed our future beyond May when the baby will
be born.  It would have been nice--"

Scully put her hand over her mouth and rushed by Mulder, en route to
the bathroom.  Oh shit, Mulder said to himself.   The door slammed
and he raced over there, placing his hands against the door, counting
backwards from one hundred slowly before opening his inept mouth.

He heard muffled sounds of her throwing up.  Probably not morning
sickness, he surmised.  Probably just the stress, the pain he had
brought to her.  Why can't I ever learn, he thought.  I could have
brought up leaving the bureau a hundred different ways.  Count on me
to choose the wrong way.

Mulder couldn't stand outside the door and listen to this anymore. 
He knocked softly, then called to her, "Scully, please let me help
you.  I want to help you."

He heard the faucet being turned on, then off.  He thought he heard
her brushing her teeth, then knew she was when she walked over to the
door and opened it, toothbrush still in her mouth.

"It's open," she said, returning to the sink so she could rinse.

He didn't enter--just leaned against the door jamb and watched her
finish up, dabbing a towel across her mouth.  He dropped his head to
his chest, closing his eyes and relaxing stiff muscles by leaning
from one side to the other.  When he re-opened his eyes, she was
standing six inches away from him, smelling of mint.

She lifted her hand to his cheek and stroked his rough beard with
her thumb.  A tiny smile told him he was one lucky man.  Scully
hadn't banished him yet.

"Let's get something to drink, Mulder.  I need some camomile tea,"
she told him. 

He followed her out to the kitchen, ducking into the refrigerator to
inspect the beverage selection.  He reached for a beer, then thought
better of it.  What if she wants me to leave, he thought.  He didn't
relish that prospect, but he knew it was a likely one.  It was still
early and he should wait and see how the rest of the evening played
out.

"You can have a beer, Mulder.  I'm not sending you home," she said
with amusement.

He glanced over at her smirking face and said, "Sure you're not
telepathic, Scully?"

She leaned against the counter, grinning back at him as he opened
his beer with an opener he'd found with no problem at all.  It was
strange the things he could remember about their life before his
abduction, she mused.  

"I don't have to read your mind to know what you're thinking,
Mulder.  I know you too well."

He slouched against the dishwasher, several yards away from her.  "I
think you've got the advantage, Scully.  You've got eight years of
interpretive observation.  I'm still trying to remember most of last
year."

The teakettle sang and she was still smiling as she threw a tea bag
in her mug.  She motioned toward the living room with her head, and
he followed her back out to the couch.  They sat close to one
another, knees almost touching.

She looked over at him, sensing his continuing apprehension.

"Mulder, relax.  I told you I'm not making you leave.  And take that
jacket off for goodness sake."  She then gave him a wicked smile and
added, "I'm not promising you anything about sleeping arrangements,
though."

He laughed out loud, relieved she was trying to lighten the
atmosphere.  He knew he wasn't completely absolved.  That's why they
were having this tete-a-tete on the couch.  

"I'm sorry, Scully," he told her, not wishing to waste another
moment without making a sincere apology.

She took another delicate sip of her tea, then placed her cup on the
coffee table, avoiding the OPR summons handily.  Her hand sought out
his free one and she curled her fingers into his palm.

"I know.  I'm... I wasn't feeling that great when we got home... and
I don't want you to think it was the subject of our discussion that
made me run away from you."

"I didn't think that, Scully.  I know you don't back down from
arguments," he said with obvious pride.

She ducked her head, feeling her cheeks burn at his words.  It was
impossible to stay angry at this man anymore.  He was stupid and
thoughtless and arrogant at times, but he knew exactly what to say to
back in her good graces.  

"No, I don't," she asserted, raising her eyes to meet his again.

Mulder took another swig of beer with his left hand, then set it
down on the table.  He wrapped both his hands around her left one and
brought it to his lips.  He kissed her tenderly, then lowered their
hands to his lap.

"I'm not going to make any career moves without your approval,
Scully.  It was the most logical idea to me at the time.  They can't
fire me if I've already resigned."

Scully nodded her head in agreement, then responded, "They can still
make things difficult for you.  What if they decide to declare you
AWOL the whole five months.  I think staying an agent until they've
decided this case is a stronger position.  If you really want to
leave, we can discuss that.  I don't know that I want to be a field
agent anymore.  Not with a baby to care for."

He raised his hand to her shoulder, kneading the tight muscles
there.  "You can teach at Quantico.  They would only send you out-of-
state occasionally."

"What will you do?" she asked.  

"Turn around, Scully.  I want to get both sides," he said, helping
her do just that.

Ecstatic little moans told Mulder he had hit all the right muscles. 
He kept massaging as he answered her question, "I can always teach
there, too.  Or at one of the universities.  I don't think that's a
problem.  Maybe I can take care of the baby."

Scully turned her head, eagerly meeting his eyes.  "Are you
serious?"  

Mulder nodded his head yes.  

"Really serious?"  One more nod in her direction.  

"I'd like that very much.  I was going to ask my mom, but--"

"It would be a lot safer for me to be Mr. Mom all day, Scully.  Your
mother is no match for the kind of people I'm worried about."

"Do you really believe a threat exists?  Krycek may have been
bullshitting us.  Maybe the Project is dead like he and the smoking
man."

"Maybe.  Maybe not.  I'd rather not take a chance on it.  Short of
changing our names and going into a witness protection program,
having one of us take care of the baby at all times is the best
solution.  But it's no guarantee of anything, Scully.  I don't know
what to tell you--things can still happen."

"I know... I know... but I don't want to do anything rash like go
underground, Mulder.  Leaving my Mom and my brothers behind would be
like a death in the family.  We can work with the Gunmen, try to find
out whether there's a threat to us--or anyone, for that matter."

Mulder put his hand on her hip, gently goading her to turn around. 
He covered both her hands with one of his own, then told her quietly,
"There may be no threat, Scully.  To us, or anyone.  But we won't
know until we do more research.  And you know we'll get it done. 
Bureau resources or not, we'll get it done."

"The hearing is Friday morning," she reminded him, apprehension
seeping into her equally subdued voice.

"All the cool kids will be there, Scully," he quipped, hoping to
disarm her fears.

A smile rejuvenated her face, erasing tiny lines and wrinkles Mulder
had been loath to see there.  He returned her smile, then without a
word, nestled her comfortably against his chest.

"Now, about those sleeping arrangements," he whispered softly in her
ear.  

Retaliation was immediate.  

"Hey!  Those are important organs down there!" he cried in mock
indignation.

Mulder pulled back from her, capturing both her hands in his own. 
Scully chuckled silently, beaming up at him with a high-wattage grin.
She struggled against his grip, but he held fast.

"Leggo!" she sputtered, suppressing laughter.

"Promise not to throw me out?" 

"Sure," she answered unconvincingly.

"Seal it with a kiss?" he prodded.

"Hmmm, maybe," she retorted, still smiling.

His eyebrows hitched in surprise.  "Not good enough for you?"

"Depends on the kiss," she threw back, with impish glee.

"Well, now--" he said, inching toward her.  

"Well, now, indeed," she replied.

The couch was empty that night.

fin

Almost Home (26/?)
By Shoshana

Friday
March 2nd, 2001
J. Edgar Hoover Building
9:22 a.m.

Scully brushed more imaginary lint off Mulder's Armani suit, the
third time since they'd taken their seats across from the hearing
room.  He reached over and grabbed her restless hand, lacing their
fingers together.

"Don't be nervous, Scully," he advised.

She gave his hand a little squeeze.  "I'm not nervous, Mulder.  I'm
anxious to get this over with."

"I am too," he responded, leaning closer so he could lower his
voice.  "Just remember what we agreed last night--nothing they can
say, nothing they can do--short of locking us up for perjury or
insubordination--and I doubt they'd be bold enough to do *that*--can
prevent us from achieving our goals.  We're going to find out what
happened to me and all those other abductees, whether the Bureau
cares to employ us or not."

Scully fingered the material of her maternity dress, a classically
tailored navy blue number her mother had insisted could be altered
after the baby was born.  She'd protested the price tag until Maggie
had offered to pay for it herself.  Scully wouldn't allow her to do
so--her mother had already shelled out a lot of money for their
small, impending wedding.

"You look nice," he whispered, repeating the compliment he'd paid
her that morning.  "I don't think they'll fire you." 
 
She smiled at the lopsided smirk on his face and replied, "They're
not going to fire you either, Mulder.  You haven't done anything
wrong.  Skinner will testify to that.  He may not want to tell the
board he saw a flying saucer, but I know he'll vouch for your sanity
the day you disappeared."

"Ha!  One of the few times he can!" Mulder jested, winning another
quick smile from her.  

"Agent Scully?"  The meeting secretary was standing outside the door
of the conference room, facing the two of them.  

Scully nodded at her, then allowed Mulder to help her rise from
their bench.

"Behave," she admonished.  

She knew both Deputy Director Kersh and Assistant Director Cassidy
were on this Professional Review board and she wanted him to tread
lightly during his testimony.  The other members were relatively
unknown to them, in spite of Mulder's propensity to get pulled in
front of OPR committees.  They had a good chance of keeping their
jobs *and* the X-Files if Kersh and Cassidy could be swayed toward
their side.  The auditor had been unable to find misuse of funds last
year--that was why the X-Files had remained open during Mulder's
absence.  All she and Mulder had to do today was justify the
expensive manhunt last fall for the missing agent.  

Scully believed she had enough evidence from Dr. Werber's
hypnotherapy session and Mulder's recent hospital visits to
corroborate some minor changes in his physiology over the last five
months.  They hadn't been obvious at first, but the neurologist had
finally reviewed tests from before and after his traumatic brain
surgery of October 1999.  He'd then compared them to recent scans
done in the last week.  Someone had been experimenting on Mulder's
brain--his massive amnesia had been the most obvious side effect.  

Scully was prepared to disclose that to the committee today if it
would disperse the cloud hovering around his disappearance last fall.
She knew this revelation could result in permanent desk duty but they
might have to chance it--he was better off employed at Hoover than
not at all.  

She'd considered his offer to become 'Mr. Mom' seriously, weighing
his complete lack of experience in the area of child care against his
fierce determination to protect his child.  She wanted Mulder to have
a choice, even one he wasn't altogether thrilled about--a desk job.

They'd discussed that possibility last night and he agreed to
disclose the extent of his amnesia and his episode of seizures.  It
was not definitive proof he'd been held captive, but it had to give
the board food for thought.  Mulder had been kidnapped once before by
Spender--they had well documented proof of that.  It wasn't a giant
leap for intelligent minds to make that he had been used for similar
purposes again.

Scully gave Mulder a parting smile, then tried her best to make a
graceful entrance to the hearing room.  Her new outfit helped--it was
modest--with an empire waist and white collar.  She looked more like
a schoolgirl than a Federal Agent, at least from the waist up. 
Beneath the neatly gathered tucks, she was a very pregnant woman.  A
male agent she didn't recognize pulled a chair out for her, then
receded to the back of the room.  Blushing slightly, she clenched her
hands into fists underneath the table, willing herself not to be
nervous and not to let her hormones get the best of her.

Jana Cassidy was apparently the chairperson of the committee,
addressing Scully first, "Good morning, Ms. Scully.  I'm happy to see
you again.  We've spoken to your supervisor, AD Skinner, and we have
just a few questions for you today.  I'd like to inform you right
away that this hearing will not result in the closing of the X-Files.
Their role in the organization has already been proven by an
extensive audit and we are not here to debate their viability.  We do
need to question you about your partner's absence.  As his doctor,
you are well qualified to give an opinion about his past and present
health problems and how they may be related to the time he was
missing.  Please tell us what you have found out since he returned
home last week."

Scully opened the file folder she had been clutching since leaving
the bench outside, took a deep breath and said, "My partner, Fox
Mulder, was abducted from a forest near Bellefleur, Oregon last
September.  His supervisor, AD Skinner was with him and I'm sure he
has already told you the details of that event.  I, and my temporary
partner, along with AD Skinner have been using the resources of the
bureau to search for him after an initial agency-wide manhunt came to
a dead end last fall.  We did not discover any new leads, but were
able to monitor hospitals and organizations around the country, and
distribute to them Agent Mulder's physical description.  Fortunately,
he was returned by his captors to the Oregon woods, relatively
unharmed.  He does have certain health problems--treatable ones--
which should have no impact upon his duties as a Federal agent.  I
believe that he will be able to return to full duty status within six
weeks time."

"What kind of health problems?"  Deputy Director Kersh asked.

Scully swallowed the lump in her throat and responded--she really
had no choice now.  "He is prone to seizures, treatable by a drug
used primarily for epilepsy.  The seizures are a result of some form
of brain experimentation by his kidnappers.  We cannot determine
precisely what was done to him, but we do know how to control the
resultant seizures.  He has also undergone hypnotherapy once to try
to remember the circumstances of his captivity.  It's possible he may
do so again, but only after seeing a therapist for several months
time."

"So he is in reasonably good health otherwise?" AD Walker asked. 
Scully knew him by sight, but not by name.

"Yes.  He's slightly underweight, but that isn't a problem.  We've
run extensive tests on him and his neurologist thinks he has the
seizures under control.  I have no doubt he will be able to do every
activity he was able to do before in the field."

"Does the bureau have copies of these medical records we can look
through?"  AD Cassidy asked.

"Yes, of course.  They have all been forwarded to his personnel
files," Scully responded.

"Agent Scully, you are on maternity leave.  Do you foresee returning
to work on the X-Files after your leave is over?" asked AD Chen.

"I haven't made a decision yet.  I may take a leave of absence until
my child is older."

Scully knew the board would never ask about her marital status in a
public forum such as this.  AD Chen's question was reasonable, but it
made her nervous.  What if they were planning on separating Mulder
and her when they both returned to the X-Files?  They would be
married by then, subject to bureau rules and regulations.  

"That will be all, Ms. Scully.  Good luck with the baby," AD Cassidy
concluded.  

"Thank you," Scully replied, fairly stunned that she was free to go.
It hadn't been that bad, she reflected.  And she hadn't revealed a
thing about Mulder's amnesia.  Of course, the board could peruse the
medical documents and discover any details they wished.  She was
willing to bet this would be the end of the busy bureaucrats'
interest in Mulder's medical condition.

She pushed herself away from the table and stood up, still feeling a
little unnerved by the whole experience.  She grabbed her file and
was escorted to a seat in the back of the room by the administrative
assistant who had summoned her to the conference room.  Apparently
there would be no problem if she remained during Mulder's testimony. 
She had spotted Skinner earlier, sitting thoughtfully in a far corner
of the room.

Mulder entered the hearing room, his eyes flitting around the room
for a glimpse of Scully.  He smiled briefly when they made visual
contact, then sat down in the chair behind the witness table.  His
finely tailored suit felt a little too large for him and he shrugged
his shoulders to adjust the length of his woolen sleeves.

Jana Cassidy allowed him a minute to get comfortable in the 'hot
seat,' pretending to shuffle through a file folder full of Mulder's
medical records.  She'd already scrutinized all the materials therein
earlier that morning--she just wanted to allow her witness to relax a
bit.  

She remembered Mulder well from his OPR hearing in 1998.  Although
she found his extraterrestrial theories hard to believe, she
respected much of the work he'd accomplished on the X-Files.  He and
his partner had more triumphs than failures over the past eight
years, apprehending some of the most elusive criminals ever pursued
by the bureau.  

In preparation for this meeting, she'd found herself playing devil's
advocate, championing Mulder's point of view in an argument with
Deputy Director Kersh.  It was a calculated risk to engage in verbal
conflict with the higher ranked bureaucrat.  In essence, she had
nothing to lose--she was one of the few highly respected female ADs
in the bureau, with fifteen years tenure in her position.

Cassidy's stance for Mulder was one of the reasons Kersh had been
relatively quiet during Skinner and Scully's testimonies.  She hoped
he remained so; from what she'd heard so far there were no grounds
for either closing the X-Files or censuring Agent Mulder.  Both
options had been tossed out by DD Kersh during their preparatory work
session.  Fortunately, he'd backed off when he'd seen Skinner's
account of Mulder's disappearance in Oregon and the extensive medical
records from Mulder's recent hospitalizations.

The hearing itself was a formality--the committee was prepared to
reinstate Mulder as an agent if no contradictory evidence was
uncovered during their proceedings.  Naturally, this was a well-kept
secret among them.  Skinner suspected as much, but had been reluctant
to approach either Mulder or Scully with that information.  

He'd been burned too many times trying to interfere with bureau
matters, and he was fairly sure he'd done everything in his own power
to legitimize Mulder's adventure to Oregon and subsequent mysterious
disappearance.  Skinner knew his agent well enough by now--he had
confidence he'd hold his own in front of these bureaucrats.  Plus, if
Kersh gave Mulder crap in the hearing, the newly energized AD would
intercede on his behalf.  He owed it to Mulder--and to Scully--after
feeling he'd lost one of his best agents in a Pacific Northwest
forest five months ago.

AD Cassidy began the proceeding:  "Hello, Agent Mulder.  We're here
to discuss your reinstatement to active duty.  For the record, we'd
like to hear a personal account of your ordeal the last five months. 
We've reviewed your medical records and noted the testimony of both
your supervising AD and your partner, Dana Scully.  Please tell us
whatever you can about the time you were missing."

Mulder was a little taken aback; he'd thought for sure this was a
disciplinary hearing--one which would result in some level of penalty
against him.  He expected to either lose the X-Files or be thrown out
on his ass.  The summons he'd received by courier the other day
certainly implied that.  Maybe he did have a friend in the FBI, he
thought to himself with immense relief.

"Would you like me to tell you what I *believe* happened to me or
what I can *remember* happened to me?"  Mulder asked, still unsure
what the committee desired from him.

"A little of both would be fine, Agent," Deputy Director Kersh urged.

Mulder bowed his head, pressing his fingertips to the tabletop in an
intense moment of concentration.  Finally, he pushed against the hard
surface, in imitation of the beginning of a clocked race.

"I don't remember very much of the last five months.  One session of
hypnotic regression last week didn't yield much--in fact I question
any memories recovered at that time.  I believe I was held against my
will in an institutional setting.  I don't think I was mistreated,
but I do think I was studied by my abductors.  I don't have any
concrete evidence of what was done to my mind, but I did have what
can be described as a series of seizures last weekend in Rhode
Island.  Fortunately, I have recovered and the prognosis is
optimistic--I don't think I will experience any more episodes in the
future.  I'm willing to wait a reasonable period of time to prove my
medical fitness.  I'm sure Agent Scully has gone into that and I
won't repeat her findings."

Mulder paused, biting his lip in concentration.  He continued,
gesturing with the palms of his hands, "I don't know what else to
tell you.  I'm planning on seeing a therapist, to explore ways of
recovering my time lost and cope with any possible post traumatic
stress.  I may take a leave of absence in the near future, but I'd
like to reserve the right to continue on the X-Files."

"Your partner also mentioned a leave of absence.  Would yours
coincide with hers by any chance?" AD Cassidy asked.

Mulder became slightly flustered.  He hadn't wanted to get into this
in a public setting.  If they wanted to separate them after their
marriage, he'd have to live with that, but he didn't relish drawing
attention to Scully's pregnancy and her currently unwed status in
front of this audience.

"I think there's a good chance mine will begin immediately after her
maternity leave is over," he said.

It was most the most diplomatic thing he could think to say.  He was
under no obligation to provide more personal information, but he felt
the committee should know that either he or Scully would have
guardianship of the X-Files in the near future.  He could manage the
division from behind a desk until Scully wanted to return to work, if
at all.  One of them would be taking care of the baby, he knew that
for a fact.  

"I'm sure everything can be worked out to everyone's satisfaction,"
Cassidy replied with equal tact.

"I hope so," Mulder responded as confidently as he could.  

He knew they wouldn't have to face the married agents dilemma for
months, perhaps a year.  Maybe never, if he could justify it.  There
were more important issues in their life that took priority until
then--they had to find out why he had been abducted and what the
aliens had planned for their world.  Mulder certainly couldn't tell
the committee about those questions today; he didn't want to be held
up to ridicule if he could avoid it.

"I think we've covered all the items on our agenda today, Agent
Mulder.  I don't see any problem with your reinstatement at the
moment.  We will be reviewing the findings of this committee and
sending them to the Director.  I'm sure you will hear from the Bureau
soon," AD Cassidy concluded.  "We'll adjourn the hearing now."

With that pronouncement, all present slowly came back to life. 
Chairs squeaked as they were pushed back from conference tables and
muted conversation began in all corners of the room.  Mulder raced
over to Scully's side, grinning widely.  He had to restrain every
muscle of his body that wanted to take her into his arms.  Her face
reflected his relief this ordeal was over, but he knew how
undignified an overt display of affection would seem to her.  

Instead, he helped her rise from her seat, then guided her with one
hand toward the still seated figure of Skinner across the room.  He
was conversing with someone beside him and excused himself as soon as
he saw his agents coming toward him.  He rose and extended his hand
to Mulder, who reciprocated the gesture with a smile.

"Thank you, sir.  I'm sure your testimony was crucial here," Mulder
told his supervisor.

"I owed you, Mulder.  I owed you both all the support I could come
up with.  Why don't you come to the office and we'll start the
paperwork.  I'd like to see you back whenever you feel comfortable,"
Skinner replied.

Mulder looked over at Scully for approval.  He had no idea what she
had planned for their afternoon; he would have been pleased to go
back to one of their apartments and blow off the rest of the day.

"That sounds like a good plan, Mulder.  That, and a corned beef
sandwich from the deli down the street."

"See, sir... from bee pollen to corned beef sandwiches in just six
months--" Mulder quipped.

Scully swatted him with her file folder and scolded, "Mulder!"

She then turned to Skinner and said, "Thanks, sir.  For today and
every day you helped me out since last fall."  She tossed her head
toward Mulder and commented, "Maybe you can send him to a training
seminar while he's desk bound--one for headstrong, insubordinate
agents--"

"Not me!" objected Mulder.

"I think the gentleman doth protest too much," Skinner parried back.
"Come on, you two.  It will be nice to have you back in the office."

fin


Almost Home (27/?)
By Shoshana

Saturday
March 3rd, 2001
8:00 a.m.
Scully's apartment

Mulder woke to find Scully's side of the bed empty, sun streaming
through a tiny crack between the still drawn drapes.  He could hear
his beloved's voice from the other room, gradually escalating in
volume and aggravation.

"How could you, mother?!?  I thought we already agreed--you even
promised!... uh, huh... uh, huh...  Yeah... I guess so...  Oh, for
pete's sake, all right!...  No, Mom, I'm not mad...  No, I don't
think he'll be mad either... You want to what?... Are you sure I need
that?  You're positive?... Oh, all right...  Okay... I'll be ready by
noon, Mom."

Scully slammed the phone down into its cradle, still fuming at her
mother's presumptuousness.  Maggie Scully had taken the liberty of
moving their wedding from the living room of her home in Maryland to
the chapel of a local Unitarian church.  

Every Scully cousin in existence had shown interest in the nuptials
after Tara got the word out in one fateful E-mail announcement.  The
capacity crisis had arisen while Mulder and Scully were in Bellefleur
earlier in the week--Maggie didn't want to disappoint their extended
family by not having a large enough venue for either the ceremony or
the reception.  

When her daughter had returned from her investigation in Oregon,
she'd called her mother to tell her about the OPR hearing on Friday. 
Mrs. Scully knew better than to broach the subject until her daughter
and future son-in-law were done with that ordeal.  She'd had no idea
what the outcome of the hearing would be, but being ever optimistic,
she'd made the reservations anyway.

Maggie had waited until the last minute to notify her--Saturday
morning was a week away from the actual event.  She knew she could
sweet talk her daughter into the change in plans, including a trip to
the mall for a suitable dress to go with the new location.  It had
been surprisingly easy to convince Dana to go along with her plan,
even with some token, half-hearted resistance.

Mulder moseyed into the dining room after going to the bathroom and
splashing some water on his face.  He mentally prepared himself for
whatever debacle her mother had planned for them.  

Scully looked suitably glum, but not devastated.  She was sitting at
the table, thoughtfully playing with the salt and pepper shakers. 
Mulder approached her from behind, wrapping both arms around her
shoulders and kissing the crown of her head.  

Curbing his apprehension, he asked right away, "What's your mom got
up her sleeve for us, Scully?"  

His light tone conveyed a nonchalant attitude concerning the
impending occasion.  Scully relaxed visibly, enjoying the impromptu
massage Mulder was giving her stiff neck and back.

"Oh, oh that's good," she moaned.  "Hmmm, I needed this, Mulder."

Mulder sank to his knees, continuing his ministrations from behind.  

"Tell me, Scully.  What's up?" 

"I'm sorry about this, Mulder.  My mother has assumed control of all
our wedding plans--not that I didn't encourage her in the first
place.  I'm too pregnant and too busy to plan something like this--
and she's done it twice, once for Bill, once for Charlie.  To make a
long story short, my aunts, uncles, cousins and distant relatives all
wanted to attend.  So Mom rented a chapel at a Georgetown Unitarian
church."

"That sounds nice," he responded blithely.

Scully turned around in her chair, meeting his eyes for the first
time that morning.  "I thought you'd hate that."  She reached over,
stroking his cheek with one finger.  "You don't hate that?" she asked
tentatively.

Mulder's eyes matched his smile as he replied, "Why would I object
to getting married anywhere you'll have me, Scully?"

Her cheeks felt warm with mild embarrassment.  She'd thought it
would be more of an issue for him than her.  Obviously, getting
married in a church wasn't as big a deal as she'd thought it might
be.

"You don't mind the chapel?" she asked softly.

"Why would I mind?  Because it's more formal than your mom's living
room?  Or because it's a religious setting?  Scully, I was willing to
get married in the Catholic church."

"I thought it would be easier for us to go Unitarian.  Or at least
my mom did.  She suggested it."

"I know.  I was half asleep when you discussed it on the way from
Rhode Island."  Mulder took a deep breath, exhaling with a sigh. 
"You can still change your mind--we can wait if you like."

"No, no.  I don't want to upset my mom's intricate plans."  She
stroked his hair away from his forehead and leaned over to kiss him
lightly.  "I have to go shopping with mom this afternoon.  She wants
me to buy a dress, a real wedding dress."

"Can you, uh, do that?" he asked, gently rubbing her pregnant 
belly.  

"My mother thinks of everything, Mulder.  She's located a maternity
shop that has everything the well dressed and knocked up bride will
need."

She giggled at the absurdity of their conversation and he answered
her with a broad smile and a satisfied chuckle.

"Scully, I'm sure glad Bill and I made our peace right away.  I sure
as hell don't need the shit beat out of me--are your other relatives
going to be okay with this?"

"I don't think they'll tar and feather you, Mulder--if that's what
you mean--" she chortled.  "And they are coming to the wedding of
their own free will.  Stop worrying so much," she assured him.

Mulder reached over to frame her face in his hands and replied,
"Okay, boss.  But you know, Scully... we're both so new at this
family thing... I just want to make a good impression on your
relatives."

Scully covered his hands with her own, caressing his knuckles
gently.  "You'll do fine.  And we have a whole week more to adjust to
the idea.  I wish my mom had left well enough alone, but that's never
going to happen, I'm afraid."

Mulder lowered his hands to Scully's hips, smiling fondly as he
caressed her soft curves.  She put her hands on his shoulders as he
kneeled before her, kneading his muscles with care.  Mulder gave her
a sly smile and gathered her closer, lying his head on the side of
her stomach.

"When's your mom coming, Scully?" he muttered into her robe.

"Noon.  What's it to ya?" she responded lightly.  

She thought they might be on the same wavelength this morning--she
wanted to ignore reality for a few more hours with a warm Mulder in
her bed.

He turned his head so she could see him grinning against her side. 
"Plenty of time for some bedrest, Scully--"

"Yeah, I'm sure I'll get plenty of rest," she quipped, smoothing her
hands through his thick dark hair.  Her hands stilled at the back of
his neck so that her thumbs teased the thickest part of his earlobes
playfully.  "Help a poor pregnant lady back to her bed, mister?" 

Mulder chuckled, then rose slowly from his knees onto somewhat shaky
legs.  Both knees made an ominous cracking sound as he used the
kitchen chair to boost him to a standing position.

"Argh!  Are you sure you want a decrepit old man for your husband,
Scully?" he queried.  He regained his equilibrium, then offered her
his hands.

"Are you sure you want a cranky old woman for your wife?" she
returned.

Mulder laughed, "Scully, you are a lot of things, but old you're
not.  You'll never look old to me."  

He wrapped his arms around her tightly and pressed his face against
the softness of her neck.  Scully was tongue-tied for several
minutes, touched by his sweet, sincere statement.  They weren't the
first words of endearment he'd ever said to her; yet they seemed to
hit her like a ton of bricks at that moment.  

She buried her cheek against his chest, concealing the rosy glow of
her face.  She felt silly and hormonal, adolescent and womanly all at
once.  Mulder was even more demonstrative with his affection than
he'd been before his abduction.  

Perhaps losing a whole chunk of his memories from the last eight
years had changed him, made him even less inhibited, if that were at
all possible.  He'd always outpaced her in his ability to show his
feelings; she made a silent vow to meet or exceed the flood of
devotion he directed toward her.

Mulder eased up on his secure but soothing grip around her upper
torso.  He grazed his fingers beneath her breasts with a tantalizing
playfulness and met her eyes with an unspoken question.  She answered
by extending him her hand, soliciting some assistance out of her 
chair.  A satisfying shudder of happiness shot through him as he led 
Scully back to their bedroom.  

*********************************************************************
2:00 p.m.
Maternal Instinct clothing store
A mall in suburban Maryland

"It's one of these two, Mom.  I don't like any of the rest of them,"
Scully said decisively.

"Okay, honey... It's so hard to choose between them... but I prefer
the lilac one," Margaret Scully responded.

The three-quarters length dress had the faintest hint of lavender in
its silky fabric.  Lace adorned the full-length sleeves and scoop
neck.  It covered Scully's stomach in a simple straightforward 
manner--the design didn't seek to disguise her shape, nor did it 
cling with undue emphasis on her girth.

"Yeah, you're right, Mom.  You always were good at picking out
formals for me in high school and even college."  Scully smiled
pensively.  "Although I didn't have much time for those kind of
events in medical school, did I?"

"I think you may have gone out two or three times, honey.  It's
getting to be a little vague now.  Honey?"

"Yeah, Mom?" Scully began to fold the sleeves of the special dress
neatly against its back.

"I have something to ask you... I've been reluctant to do so...  I
hope you don't think me an interfering grandmother--" Margaret asked,
lowering her eyes at the end of her sentence.

Scully stopped fondling the hand of the fabric and tried to catch
her mother's gaze.

"What, Mom?  You know you can ask me anything--at least I hope you
do now.  I know we haven't always been completely frank with one
another."

Maggie Scully took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly, then spoke
with groping hesitance,  "Well, I've been wondering... Dana... aren't
there people out there who might not be too pleased to see your baby
survive?"

Scully grimaced in an expression of extreme anguish.  It was
horrific enough for her and Mulder to entertain these thoughts from
time to time--why should her mother have to be subjected to this
misery also?

"Mom, I don't know if I can talk about this--"

"You don't have to, honey.  I just wanted you to know how worried I
am sometimes.  If, if it would help matters--I was going to suggest
to you... don't consider my feelings if you and Mulder have to
disappear--"

Scully's chest tightened with anxiety, her legs felt like they would
give out beneath her.  She used the wall of the dressing room to
guide her toward the other straightback chair provided for customers.
Maggie jumped up to help her, reluctantly sitting back down when her
daughter shooed her away.  

"Mother!  I don't want to have this conversation!  No matter what
you say, it would kill you if we left now.  I can't do that to you,
Mom.  I can't take your grandchild away from you because of some
nebulous threat from an organization which may not even exist."

Mrs. Scully threw her hands in the air in a gesture of acquiescence.
"Okay, honey.  I shouldn't have brought this up.  But you know I'd do
anything for you and Fox.  That includes losing you for awhile to
protect you."

Scully's head sunk to her chest, eyes closing in exasperation.  She
would never convince her mother they were safe for now.  Even she
knew that was an unreasonable expectation.  Only after she and Mulder
could study the abductees, including Mulder himself, could they know
for certain why he had been abducted and whether their child was at
risk also.

"Please, Mom.  If there's anything you can do, we'll ask you to help
us.  Right now, I just want to concentrate on this happy occasion
you've done such a great job planning for us.  I don't want you to
worry about me, or Mulder.  Or the baby."

Scully stretched her arms out to her mother, beckoning her from
across the room.  Mrs. Scully rushed to her side, embracing her
tightly against her side.  She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss
on her forehead, then framed Scully's face in her hands.

"Okay, sweetheart.  I promise not to worry.  I just wanted you to
know--anything you need or want--don't hesitate to ask."

"You've already done everything you possibly can for us, Mom.  The
wedding is going to be beautiful, and it's all your doing.  Come on,
let's get going.  Maybe we can catch some of those biscotti you like
down at the coffee shop."

Scully allowed her mother to help her up, then grabbed the barely
purple dress from the corner of the room.  Maggie grabbed her
daughter's purse from the floor and followed her out to the register.
The transaction took about ten minutes, then they were out in the
shopping mall once again, headed for a shoe store.

"Did you decide how long you're going to take maternity leave?"
Maggie finally asked while her daughter slipped on the seventh pair
of shoes that day.

"Oh, I'm not sure, Mom.  Mulder says he'd like to take care of the
baby--but you know... he has the best intentions... but I'm not sure
if he'll be happy staying home all the time.  I'll see what happens
after he returns to work.  If his body cooperates, he might be back
in the field sooner than you think.  He'll need a new partner, I
suppose.  That will be the hardest thing for both of us."

"You had a temporary partner, didn't you?" Maggie asked.

"Yes, but that felt different.  Mulder wasn't around to observe the
dynamics of our partnership.  I'm sure it will be difficult for me to
see someone new go out in the field with him, but there's no
alternative.  I don't see anything wrong with you or the Lone Gunmen
babysitting once in awhile, but we really want to be hands on
parents.  After all, we both waited so long to have children--"

"Honey, I'm all for either you or Mulder staying home with the baby.
Just keep in mind how loved this child will be.  I bet you'll even be
able to enlist Mr. Skinner's help with him."

Scully laughed at the prospect of her boss changing her son's
diapers.  "Yeah, I'm sure he'd really be comfortable with that, Mom. 
Of course, they may resemble one another for a few months if our
little one looks like Bill did as a baby!"

Mrs. Scully smiled at the memory of Bill, Jr. with little or no hair
for the first six weeks of his life.  "He still hates those photos. 
Dana, those look fine.  Why don't you take them and we'll stop at the
coffee shop.  I promised Tara and Bill I'd be home by six and it's
already three p.m.  I don't mean to rush you--"

"No problem, Mom.  I knew you couldn't stay all day.  I don't like
you driving home in the dark by yourself anyway."

"Aren't they providing extra protection for you and Mulder?" 

"Not anymore.  We asked Skinner to drop it yesterday.  I guess it
may sound foolish, but I'm not as worried as I was a week ago.  I
still carry my weapon on me, if that's what you're wondering about,
Mom."

"I was just curious, honey.  I'm not trying to pry or make a
judgment call.  Well, let's get going.  I can almost taste the coffee
now."

Scully and Margaret paid for her shoes, then stopped at the mall
coffee shop.  A half hour later, they were at Mrs. Scully's vehicle
loading the dress and shoes into the back seat.  The parking garage
was practically empty that day; it was too early for the Easter rush
and long past Valentine's day.  

Once the items were loaded in the car, Maggie started to help her
daughter into the passenger's seat.  Scully adjusted her seat belt
and smiled up at her mother when she was done.  Before Mrs. Scully
could step away and shut the door securely on her unsuspecting
daughter, a van pulled up beside them.

Scully knew what was happening and struggled to reach her weapon,
but the ambush was too well planned and executed.  Within minutes
both women were subdued by their captors, then immobilized by stun
guns.  A quarter hour later, Margaret Scully emerged from a temporary
haze to find herself seated in the front seat of her car, without her
daughter beside her.

fin


Almost Home (28/?)
By Shoshana

Saturday
March 3rd, 2001
4:00 p.m.
Mall parking garage

Mulder had no badge to flash at the cops surrounding the crime scene
but he recognized the officer in charge, Derrick Johnson.  Years ago
he had assisted the suburban police department with a string of
murders that may or may not have been committed by one individual. 
The crime remained unsolved to this day but Mulder remembered the
rookie cop well.  Now a lieutenant, he crossed the parking lot to
lead him past the black and white cruisers and toward Mrs. Scully's
car.

"Agent Mulder!  We've been trying to get a hold of you at home!"  

"Didn't Mrs. Scully tell you?  She dialed Scully's cell phone and
managed to tell me what happened-- just barely though.  She must have
dropped the phone after that but I was already on my way by then,"
replied Mulder.

His voice shook with anger and fear despite his attempt to appear
calm and rational in public.  He dug his hands deep into the pockets
of his coat, forming tight fists to keep from screaming.  His heart
had been beating double time since Margaret Scully's phone call less
than a half hour ago, and every brain synapse had been totally
devoted to making the trip to the mall as swiftly as possible.

"No, she must have passed out, Agent.  I just got off the phone with
AD Skinner though.  I guess you talked to him after you dialed 911 a
half hour ago.  He's sending a task force immediately--should be here
within minutes.  Dana Scully is your partner?" Johnson questioned.

"Yes.  And my fiancee, Derrick," he said, dropping the formality
intentionally.  Johnson was just being polite under the 
circumstances--they'd become good basketball playing buddies after
the case years ago and addressed each other without their titles on
the court.

"She is?  Skinner didn't say that but he did tell me she was seven
months pregnant.  Mulder, we're doing whatever we can to canvass the
neighborhoods and look for any abandoned vehicles.  We have a
forensic crew coming out as we speak.  When the fibbies get here I'll
know what to do next.  Do you want to see Mrs. Scully?  I think the
paramedics said she was coming around slowly a few minutes ago."

Derrick motioned toward an ambulance parked nearby, then steered
Mulder in its direction with a firm hand on his shoulder.  They
continued to talk as they walked there

"Mulder, we're gonna find her.  I just know it.  You've gotta
believe that," he assured his old friend.

Mulder cracked an uneasy smile for a few seconds, then shook his
head in dismay.  "I should never have let her go without me.  I
should never have let her call off the bodyguards.  There's a lot
more to this than I can tell you now, Derrick.  I don't think her
kidnappers will harm her, but it doesn't make it any less harrowing
an experience."

"You think you know who these guys are?  That might help.  Come on,
Mulder.  Let's see Mrs. Scully before the Feds get here."

Mrs. Scully was sitting up and drinking a cup of water when Mulder
appeared at the ambulance's tailgate.

"Fox!" she exclaimed through tears that wouldn't cease.  "They took
her!"  

She tried to get up from the gurney but the female paramedic
cautioned her, "Don't get up yet, Ma'am.  You need to rest a few
minutes more."

"Can I climb on through?" Mulder asked.  At the technician's nod, he
clambered into the vehicle and sat down on a gurney opposite Mrs.
Scully.

"Fox, we were just talking about this--I had just asked her about
your safety before we left the dress shop," she told him rapidly. 
"What's going on?" she added, her voice lowering to barely a 
whisper.  

Mulder dug into his jacket's inner pocket and offered her his
handkerchief.  He shook his head and faced her with sad eyes.

"I don't think they'll harm her, Margaret.  I don't think either of
us are much good to them dead.  I think they'll keep her until
they're through testing her and the baby--then give me a call."

"You're not going to pick her up alone, are you?" she wondered
incredulously.

"I think I'll have to.  I think that's the only way."  Mulder leaned
closer and whispered softly, "Don't mention this, Margaret.  When the
Feds get here they'll insist I stay out of the way and off the case. 
They know I won't and I also know they won't try to keep me chained
to a desk somewhere.  Skinner should be here soon.  I called him as
soon as I heard from you and made a 911 call."

"Have you called Bill?  Fox, even if you haven't gotten along in the
past--I think you should call him at the base.  He needs to know
right away," she pleaded.

"Here's my phone, Mrs. Scully.  Please call him for me.  I just
spotted Skinner pulling up in the lot.  I better go talk to him.  Do
you remember anything?  A physical description of the kidnappers?"

"No, I'm sorry, Fox.  It happened so fast.  I knew Dana was reaching
for her gun but it's so awkward when you're that pregnant," she
replied, her voice breaking on her last word.  "You go... I'm sure
you need to talk to the AD before they can proceed," she concluded,
taking his proffered phone.

"Okay, I'll be back in a few minutes to see how you're doing and to
get the phone.  Lie down and rest, would you?" 

"I will.  You go now," she said, gently pushing him toward the
ambulance door.

Skinner was dressed casually in a turtleneck and jeans.  He ran over
to Mulder as soon as he spotted him.

"Mulder!  What does Mrs. Scully say?"

Mulder sounded as dejected as he felt.  "Not much.  It was well
planned.  I'm sure of that.  I don't think they meant to harm either
of them but I have a pretty good idea what they want from Scully,
Sir.  They'll do tests on her and release her later today if my guess
is on the money.  I think this is nothing but a waiting game from
here on in."

"We'll be combing these neighborhoods anyway, Mulder.  Maybe they'll
leave some clue."  Skinner put his hand on his agent's shoulder. 
"You know I can't put you on the task force--you're not fully
reinstated.  I can let you participate as an observer though.  You
have a weapon with you?"

"Old service weapon, Sir," he responded, flipping his jacket open
for a fraction of a second to reveal its presence.

"It's good to have, but you better be discreet," he dictated softly.
"You think they'll call you?" he asked in an even softer tone.

Mulder nodded affirmatively, then studied the tips of his sneakers
for a brief moment.  "I have to believe that, Skinner.  If I can't
hold on to that--there's not much hope--"  

His voice broke and he turned abruptly from his boss's scrutiny for
a good minute.  When he turned back, Skinner was still standing
there, fists curled against his sides, expression grim.

"There's always hope, agent.  Let's go talk to the new arrivals and
get a look at the condition of scene."

Skinner put his hand on Mulder's shoulder for a few seconds, to lend
moral support as much as to guide him toward the waiting task force.

*********************************************************************
Warehouse
Unknown location
5:00 p.m.

Scully woke slowly, a strong medicinal odor assaulting her before
she could open her eyes.  She was tired and groggy, still feeling the
effects of some mild sedative.  Bodies bustled around her, obviously
preparing for some intended procedure.

Panic rose through her with the realization she was the patient in
question.  Her eyes flew open, then closed again tightly, aching from
the too bright light overhead.  She tried to move her hands and feet,
but couldn't--wrist and ankle restraints bound her to the padded 
table.

Her eyelids fluttered open once again, determined to regain
consciousness before anything was done to her child.  The room spun
for a few minutes as she took in the objects and personnel around
her.  She didn't dare lift her head until the vertigo stopped.

A woman's voice across the room caught her attention and she pivoted
her head in that direction.  Recognition forced bile up from her
digestive tract; she fought the impulse to vomit her last meal.

"You fucking bitch!" Scully spat at the well-dressed woman.  "You're
going to kill my baby!"

The blond woman nodded at her subordinate, then strolled casually
closer to the examining table.

"Quite the opposite, Agent Scully.  We've done everything we can to
insure your safety.  Your baby is alive and well."

"Let me go!  You have no right to do this!  You have no right to 
touch me or my baby!"

Marita shook her head slowly, a half-smile etched on her face. 
"We're not going to harm you, Agent.  We have every intention of
keeping you and your partner happy and healthy for the rest of your
lives."

"What do you want from us?  Our baby is normal.  There's nothing
unusual about him at all.  I've already had an amnio done.  I've done
DNA tests.  I've had ultrasounds.  What could you possibly need to
know that would necessitate this, this *kidnapping*!" Scully
protested vehemently.

Scully tried to modulate the tone of her voice, hoping beyond hope
she could still talk Covarrubias out of harming her child.  It was
useless.  Her words flew out like venom-tipped arrows despite her
best interests.  She could not, would not, control her outrage with
this woman.

"Agent Scully," Marita repeated calmly, pulling up a round stool on
coasters to sit on.  "If I had asked you to submit to these simple
tests--would you have?"

Scully just glared at her, undisguised wrath in her eyes.

"That's what I thought.  You know, you have to understand that we
can save humanity with the child's antibodies.  I didn't want to do
it this way.  You know I had no other option."

"Your option should have been to stay the fuck away from me and my
child!  I'm not a lab rat!  You of all people should know what it's
like!" Scully shouted back.

Marita bent her head toward her chest, sighed deeply, then lifted
her eyes back to Scully.  "I do.  I know what it's like.  But I have
an obligation, a duty to find a vaccine for the coming plague.  I
know you and Agent Mulder are planning on studying the problem but
you are so far behind the research we've done--we need to speed
things up.  There will be no future for your family or mine if we
don't develop the vaccine now."

She parted her lab coat, revealing the growing curve beneath.  "I
have everything to gain by saving the world, Agent Scully.  This
child is the last thing I have of Alex.  You may not have liked him;
there was a time when I hated him passionately.  But I grew to
understand him, to trust him and follow him.  He was trying to save
us all."

Scully pursed her lips in thought, trying to recall every encounter
she and Mulder had ever had with this woman.  She had no reason to
trust her, none at all.  She didn't want to be led astray by the same
line of altruistic bullshit the Cigarette Smoking Man had fed her.

She looked around the room more closely now, scrutinizing the
medical equipment and supplies waiting to be utilized.  They were
going to do an amnio on her, and an ultrasound--whether she liked it
or not.  Struggling against them would potentially harm the baby; she
had to submit to their demands upon her body.

Hatred rose within her chest, tightening the muscles until she
willed herself to breathe again.  She swallowed hard, banishing her
nausea back to the pit of her stomach.  She had to get control of
herself.  She had no choice.

"Will you release me as soon as you have your precious tests?"
Scully tilted her head toward the equipment across the room.

"You have my word," Marita responded with the same chilly composure
she'd maintained throughout the conversation.  "Agent Mulder will be
notified where to pick you up.  I reiterate, you will not be harmed
here."

"Why now?  Why did you wait so long to take me?  Why not before
Mulder came back?" Scully asked with a touch of sarcasm.

Marita bit her lip in thought for a second then told her, "There was
some disagreement before his return about when to do the tests...
that obstacle fell with Spender's death."  She looked away for a few
more seconds, tamping down her emotions.  "Alex had approached you,
warned you about the others.  If--"  Her voice broke on that one word
and she forced herself to continue with little or no expression.  "If
he had lived--he planned on asking for help from you."

"He expected it?" Scully asked incredulously.

"I guess he thought it was worth a try.  I had no such illusions.  I
knew we would need to detain you.  We were waiting for the right 
time--we expected you to maintain the extra protection, and then 
suddenly it was gone.  It was a tactical decision, Agent Scully.  We 
need you for a very brief time and we may never need your help 
again."

"No guarantee of that, though?" Scully questioned.

Marita said nothing.  

Scully's distrust had waned not one iota; Marita's little display of
remorse had virtually no affect on her opinion of the woman.  Dana
knew she was wasting time trying to reason with her.  The tests would
be performed this evening.  If she was lucky, they would let her go
in a few short hours.

"Let's get it over with," Scully offered at last.  "I don't want to
prolong my mother's agony over this."

"Or Agent Mulder's," Marita provided.

"I'm sure he's dealing with it better than she is.  Let's just get
this over with, please," she entreated, closing her eyes in defeat.

Scully listened to the movement of humans and machine around her,
opening her eyes when she felt a nurse preparing her for an IV.  She
was determined to watch every odious step of the way; she couldn't
stop this from happening, like her abduction years ago, but she would
at least know what was being done to her this time.

*********************************************************************
 
Skinner's office
7:15 p.m.

Mulder slumped down in his chair, fighting the dizzy spell he didn't
want to deal with right now.  He couldn't get sick now, Scully needed
him too damn much.  He cradled his head with his hands, rubbing the
fingers of one hand over his forehead.  Skinner had insisted he go to
his office to take a break from the situation room.  He'd gone with
some reluctance, then acceptance of his need to stay lucid.

"Hey," Skinner said as he opened the door to his office.  "Feeling
better now?"

Mulder raised his head a few inches to meet his boss's eyes.  "A 
bit."

"Good."  Skinner sat down behind his desk.  "Nothing yet, Mulder. 
Sorry."

Mulder sat up straight in the chair, continuing to rub his forehead
with two fingers.

"You really think they'll call?" queried Skinner.

"I'm convinced of it."  

The older man saw unshakable conviction in the younger one's eyes. 
He wondered to himself how Mulder and Scully had survived so many
years of trials just like this one.  It boggled his mind they could
stay sane, stay committed to their cause, to each other.

As though on cue, Mulder's phone rang.  He reached in his jacket,
then placed it against his ear.

"Mulder.  Yes.  Yes.  All right.  I'll be there."

He thumbed the cell off, avoiding Skinner's gaze.

"Alone, right?" the AD asked.

"Alone," Mulder repeated.

"When?"

"Hour from now."

Skinner heaved a sigh, then flipped his spectacles off his face and
onto his desk.

"Go.  I didn't hear a thing here."

Mulder looked up at him, and their eyes met for a few brief seconds
before Mulder stood and headed for the door.

"Thank you, Sir.  Thank you for everything," he told his friend as
he shot out of the office and into the hallway.

*********************************************************************
8:10 p.m.
A bench along the Potomac

Scully sat, watching the cold river flow relentlessly.  She was
tired.  She had minor cramps in her abdomen.  But she was alive.  And
Mulder would be there any moment to take her home.  

She gathered her coat around her tighter, braving the rising wind. 
She heard footsteps behind her and she turned to face their source. 
Out of the shadows came Mulder--walking, then rushing, to her side.

He hurried to embrace her, crushing her against his chest.  She
buried her face in the leather of his coat, unleashing all the tears
she'd held back in Marita's presence.  Mulder was shaking against
her, sobbing quietly as he ran his hands up and down her back.

"Scully."

She squeezed him soundly around the waist and mumbled his name into
his turtleneck.

He pulled back a bit, eyeing her general condition.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah.  I am."

"What happened?"

She averted her eyes, still too overcome with emotion to discuss the
last few harrowing hours of her life.  

"I'll tell you later, okay?" she choked out between sniffles and 
sobs.

He bobbed his head ever so slightly, then gave her a chaste kiss on
the lips.

"Let's go, Scully," he said, helping her to her feet.

She nodded silently in agreement, briefly, painfully, smiling at him.

He wound his arm around her shivering, cold body and took her home.


fin

Almost Home 29
By Shoshana

Saturday
March 10th, 2001
Church banquet room

"A toast--to the new bride and groom!"

Bill Scully, Jr. raised his champagne glass high in the air, his
complexion already flushed from the first few glasses he'd imbibed. 
He wasn't much of a drinker and overconsumption always affected him
for the worse.  Tara would probably put a stop to a fourth glass
before he could be offered another one.

Mulder and Scully sat next to one another, goblets in hand.  They
smiled diffidently at their wedding guests, then found shelter in
each other's gaze.  Being the center of attention wasn't new to
either of them--they'd received commendations in public, graciously
accepting recognition well deserved.

Being in the spotlight as a real, involved couple was still a
novelty though, bringing a blush to their cheeks which had little to
do with alcohol consumption.  In fact, both their glasses contained
sparkling cider--Mulder refused to indulge if Scully couldn't drink
some too.  He also wanted to remain conscious for his wedding night--
having never chanced the mixture of phenytoin and champagne before,
he'd decided to lay off the bubbly.  

The last week of Mulder's life hadn't provided a lot of time to
experiment with his meds--nor did it even occur to him to do so until
a few hours before their wedding in a small Unitarian chapel. 
Skinner had permitted them a day to recuperate from Scully's
kidnapping, serving as an impenetrable shield from the demands of
both the local cops and FBI investigators all day Sunday.  He'd
insisted they make themselves available to authorities on Monday
morning, and both agents had complied.

Scully had told her fellow law enforcement officers a version of the
truth which satisfied her good conscience.  Only Mulder would know
the details of her conversation with Marita and he wasn't divulging
one word more than his fiancee.  Skinner attended the FBI debriefing,
fully aware by the end of the session that something remained
unarticulated.  He wasn't about to push for details from two of his
best agents--he knew they wouldn't be forthcoming.

The betrothed couple decided to go forward with their wedding plans
even before they entered Maggie Scully's house on Monday night for an
early dinner.  Mrs. Scully wasn't about to pressure them to comply
with the timetable for the event; she was inclined toward a
postponement of the nuptials.  However, both Mulder and Scully seemed
untroubled about the timing of the event, if only to give them an
escape from the harsh reality of their strange lives.

This Saturday night, in front of their family and friends, they were
as far away from the outside world as they could ever hope to be.  It
was a comfort to both of them; Scully felt reunited with her extended
family--Mulder relished his initiation into clan Scully.  Even so,
being focused upon was a mite painful.

They found security in each other's eyes, listening to the second
and third toasts of the evening with half an ear.  Someone yelled out
"Kiss her!" and Mulder obliged by closing the gap between them with
care.  She looked lovely in her fancy dress and he felt deliciously
drunk with happiness.  He was willing and able to fulfill all
requests to kiss his new wife.

The crowd of fifty or so revellers clapped and shouted good tidings
while the bride and groom smooched away.  The strains of "Love Me
Tender" spilled out of the speaker system Langly had set up hours
before the reception, bringing the amorous couple back down to earth,
off their euphoric little cloud of temporary privacy.  Mulder and
Scully's eyes glittered with laughter--their bespectacled friend had
refused to divulge a song list, assuring them they'd be pleased with
the selection.

Mulder was more than pleased, glancing at Langly in the corner of
the room to convey his approval.  His eyes only strayed for a few
seconds, returning to the radiant face of his new bride.  He rose
from his chair and offered her his hand, mimicking a similar gesture
made so many years ago in a small midwestern dance club, years before
he and Scully were involved, years he couldn't possibly remember due
to his continuing selective amnesia.  

Scully let out a little gasp, recognizing the sweet irony of his
familiar, courtly stance.  Mulder misinterpreted, asking her with one
concerned glance whether she was up to the mild physical exertion of
a dance, even a slow one.  She nodded yes with a warm smile and they
moved out onto the tiny dance floor amidst shouts and whistles from
the happy crowd.          

Pressed tightly against one another, they raised their arms
slightly, beaming with delight as they circled the small space until
the very last words of the song, 

When at last my dreams come true
Darling this I know
Happiness will follow you
Everywhere you go.

Mulder leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Truer words were never
spoken."  He nipped at the soft flesh of her lobe quickly, then
lifted his eyes to meet hers again.

Before Scully could get another word out, Mulder felt a light tap on
his shoulder.

"Second dance for big brother," Bill Scully told them with a huge
grin.

Mulder pretended to be put out by the demand, but handed over his
dance partner with little fuss.  Scully grinned back at her brother,
thinking back to just a few hours ago when he'd escorted her down the
aisle.

"Thanks, Bill.  Thanks for all the help you gave Mom this past week.
I know how much she wanted to keep the wedding date."

Bill looked down at his petite sister and shook his head, "It was
nothing.  I was planning on helping her anyway.  I just wasn't
expecting--"

"Your sister would be kidnapped?"

Bill chuckled mirthlessly at her candor.  "Yeah, something like
that."  

He paused thirty seconds or so, appearing to concentrate on the beat
of the music.  "Dana?" he finally asked soberly.

"Yes?" she responded with equal gravity.

"I know it's not my business, and we haven't had any time to talk
about this all week... this may sound like the most naive thing to
say... but, it won't happen again, will it?" 

Scully lowered her eyes as they continued to dance to a popular
tune.  She had no honest answer to his question, at least none she
could reveal to him.

She lifted her eyes and faced him at last, "I hope not, Bill. 
Skinner's put our bodyguards back on duty.  Every precaution will be
followed from now on."  

She paused, biting her lip in thought.  Her next words were spoken
so softly he had to lean close to catch every one.  "I don't think we
can control everything that happens to us, do you?" 

His eyes softened with his reply, "No, no one can, I suppose."  

The music lulled as Langly combed his CD collection for a request. 
Bill squeezed his sister's shoulders affectionately, then leaned over
to kiss her forehead.

"Good luck, little sis."

Dana colored slightly at the sound of her childhood nickname.  No
one else would ever call her by that moniker--it was Bill's privilege
forever.

"Love you," she said, yanking gently at his arm so he'd bend low
enough for her to kiss his cheek.

"Love you, sis."  

Bill smiled, then turned around and headed toward Tara and Matthew's
table.  Mulder had been waiting patiently, chatting with one of
Scully's many aunts when he spotted her availability.

"Hey, wife," he said, approaching her from behind.

Mulder wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder.

"I don't think Bill suspects a thing," she told him gravely.

Mulder frowned.  He didn't want their day ruined with thoughts such
as these.

"How could he?  He lacks the perspective we do, Scully."

She bobbed her head in assent, but he could hear a tremor of sadness
in her unsteady voice, "Yes, I suppose you're right."

He slowly turned her around, meeting her eyes with utter solemnity,
"Don't think about this now, Scully.  It's our wedding day.  Don't
let this get to you."  He grasped her shoulders lightly and leaned
closer to her face, "I won't let anything bad happen to you ever
again."

Mulder leaned in for a long passion-filled kiss, the firm pressure
of his lips calming her anxiety.  Family and friends ceased their
incessant chatting and grazing to applaud the sweet display of
affection, and the newlyweds parted with flushed cheeks and tentative
smiles.  With a shy nod to their enthusiastic audience, they headed
back to their table to continue with the reception.

They never discussed Bill's misgivings again--not that night, nor in
the future.

*********************************************************************
Saturday
August 11, 2001
The Mulder Summer Home
Quonochontaug, Rhode Island

Little hands explored the tanned plain of his father's chest,
pulling weakly at the fine hairs there.  Mulder resisted the desire
to giggle madly, even though the kid was tickling the shit out of
him.  The boy gurgled happily, attracting his mother's curious gaze
from underneath their huge beach umbrella.  She leaned over and made
eye contact with her little boy, and he bubbled and cooed nonsense to
both adults, clapping his little hands against the bronzed skin of
his dad.

Mulder cradled his tiny fists in his much larger hands and crooned,
"Whose little boy are you, huh?  Whose?"

Scully felt her eyes fill with joyous tears; they were so frequent
anymore--even now, when her body had returned to its previous
hormonal balance.  They had everything they wanted in the world, each
other, and this beautiful creature with hazel eyes and auburn hair. 
Three month old Josh made baby chuckles and Mulder pulled the infant
across his chest, settling the child's dimpled chin flush with his
own.  

Scully had provided the boy's patrician nose--thank God, Mulder
thought to himself.  It looked well with his chubby cheeks and
multicolor eyes.  They had started out medium blue and gradually
became suffused with brown and yellow hues, changing them from green
to hazel to brown depending on the quality of light above.

Mulder bussed him sloppily on the lips, then blew raspberries into
his little chin.  This provoked wild laughter from not only his son
but also his amused wife beside him.

"Leave it to you to teach him bad manners at a tender age, Mulder,"
she told him affectionately.

She reached over and smoothed the recalcitrant bangs out of her
husband's eyes so father and son could engage in a goodnatured
staring contest.  Mulder blinked first--the kid could outstare most
adults with a gaze that suggested rich past lives.  To Mulder, that
is.  Scully had already shot down this theory, threatening to adjust
her husband's pharmaceuticals if he dared continue with that train of
thought.

Their little tyke was brand new; she wasn't interested in what or
who he'd been before his present incarnation.  He was the most
beautiful child in the world to her, their child.  A miracle they
could still not account for, though she highly suspected an
adjustment in her chip months before Joshua's conception.

Cancer Man's last gift to them, one he'd never taken responsibility
for.  Marita had suggested the possibility to her months ago--when
she'd imprisoned Scully in a makeshift examining room.  Dana hadn't
wanted to believe it could be true, that her fertility had been
restored by that bastard.  She and Mulder discussed it once briefly,
then dropped the subject in mutual disgust.  Neither of them wished
to be beholden to the Smoking Man, even if only posthumously.

"Babies need to act out their deepest feelings, Scully," Mulder
answered with a smile.  "Watch--"

Mulder lifted the child a few inches from his chest and rubbed their
noses together vigorously.  The youngster cried out with glee and his
father provided silly nonsense syllables to go with his actions. 
Joshua was chirping back non-stop, reaching out little hands to try
and attack Daddy's nose.

"You're full of shit, Mulder.  I know you majored in abnormal psych,
not child psych.  Leave my baby's deepest feelings alone," she
quipped.

"Ah, Scully," he whined, "You know we're just havin' fun."

He gave her a little pout and Joshua reproduced it with perfect
mimicry.  Both parents laughed out loud, astonished at their child's
ability to imitate his elders.

"Won't be too long now before he's raising one eyebrow, Scully--"
Mulder threw out, ducking and covering beneath his little boy's
overalls.  Joshua giggled wildly, apparently believing this to be a
new game Mommy and Daddy had invented just for him. 

Scully punched him goodnaturedly and chuckled, "I'm not the only one
with overactive eyebrows, Mr. Waggles."

Mulder laughed at the absurd nickname.  "I think you've been reading
too many Peter Rabbit tales to Josh lately, woman.  That has to be an
original Beatrix Potter character."

Josh let out a loud, unexpected burp and Mulder exclaimed, "All
right, Josh.  Thattaboy!"

Scully couldn't help but laugh at her husband's enthusiasm, and she
sidled over to her two best boys.  Mulder balanced the infant on his
chest, then gathered Scully close to his side.  She leaned over to
kiss Josh, then Mulder, on the lips, then snuggled against both of
them, draping her arm around the little boy's back.

Scully became very quiet, then told him solemnly, "I got an E-Mail
today.  From Marita."

"Oh," he answered with calculated disinterest.

"The trials are successful.  We're relieved of our obligation," she
intoned dully.

Mulder bit his lower lip and fought back anger and tears that
threatened to ruin their calm summer day.  He took several deep
breaths and replied, "Good.  That's good, Scully.  I just hope it's
the end.  I hope she means it this time."

Scully strained to keep control of her emotions, "I hope so too. 
We've lied to so many people to keep Josh's immunity a secret.  If
anyone else had known--the military, some faction against Marita... 
I don't know what would have happened.  She provided all that
disinformation to throw everyone off Josh's importance.  I don't
understand why she did it--"

"She has her own to worry about, Scully.  She'd like to see her
daughter grow up.  I don't think she'll bother us for any more blood
samples."

"It's not over, though, is it?" she asked sadly.

"No."  He sighed heavily, stroking his little son's head as Josh
fell into a deep sleep.  "There's still the brain activity angle.  We
haven't had enough time to research enough children or adults.  It's
another possible way the hostile aliens could invade.  I don't know
what to say, Scully.  We have to keep trying to find out what all
those tests they performed on me were for."

Scully reached her arm around him, squeezing tightly.  She kissed
his shoulder tenderly, then muttered into his side, "Let's rest,
Mulder.  We all need to rest today."

He pulled her a little bit closer to his side and kissed her on the
cheek.  

"Today we rest," he agreed.

They dozed off in the waning summer sunshine, savoring one small
victory at a time.  They were just a normal family, relaxing on the
beach.  Saving the world could wait 'til Monday.

Fin!!!


Huge cyberhugs to all my beta readers along the way:  Amy, Char,
Keleka, Lisa, Paulette, Sallie and Teresa.  They all contributed so
much to this story and enriched it with tales of their own
experiences.

Special thanks to Teresa's husband, David, for medical advice on
everything from stun guns to pregnancy.

Thanks to all who sent feedback during the last nine months!  I had
no idea this story would exceed 600k and I am very grateful for all
your encouragement.

Please visit my web page at:

http://www.geocities.com/shoshana1013/