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  ML's e-mail address has changed to: msnsc21@yahoo.com
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Apart 4: Fear
by ML

Scully's reply shows up the very next day.  

"I'm physically shaking right now seeing your words..."

Oh, Scully.  What you've just done to me with those words...

"...wishing it were you speaking them to me..."

Even though I'm sure she's laying it on thick for the 
watchers, that's quite an admission for Scully to make.  
It warms me and frightens me in equal parts.  She's so 
vulnerable where she is.  I know she's brave, and I know 
she's capable, but I wish she didn't have to go through 
this alone.

"...I want so badly to see you, too..."

Scully, if it's half as much as I want to see you, we 
could light up DC with our need...

"...but you are still not safe here..."

That's going to change, and soon.

x-x-x-x

It takes a couple of days to work out the details, but 
the whole time, I'm on the road, heading back toward 
DC.  Scully's initial email is non-committal, but I 
know that in a day or so I'll be getting the one I'm 
expecting.

I've already been in touch with the Gunmen.  They've 
been doing a little monitoring themselves.  They've 
told me what Doggett told Scully, and what he's found 
out so far.

When Scully's next email comes, I'm ready.

x-x-x-x

It's like watching a train wreck, I think as I see the 
action unfold like a silent movie.  I see Scully's head 
turn, her mouth open and her eyes wide as she sees the 
train barely slow on its way through the station.

Exactly like a train wreck.  If Scully had been standing 
next to me, I would have said something like that to her, 
making a joke at my own expense.  What else can I do?

Right now, I have to deal with the sudden change in plans.  
I'd intended to meet Scully, and work out a meeting with 
the mystery man.  I should have known that he would make 
his own plans.  I already have my suspicions about *what*
he is.  This seems to confirm it.

The conductor's voice over the PA breaks into my thoughts.  
"Ladies and gentlemen, we're sorry for the change in plans. 
We'll be making an unscheduled stop for a few minutes, but 
we should arrive at our next stop close to on time.  For 
those who expected to detrain at the last stop, we will 
have a chartered bus standing by to get you back to the 
station."

I find the car attendant.  "Can you tell me why we didn't 
stop?"

He shakes his head.  I expected this.  What's he going to 
tell me, there's been a shooting?  Besides, I've had my 
face glued to the window for several miles now.  As we 
neared the station, I could make out some of what happened.  
I saw the man leap, and I felt the thump of impact.  I saw 
a man go down on the platform.  

"Was that your stop?"  The attendant asks.

I nod.  

"I'm sorry, but we'll get you back there as soon as possible.  
The station master'll let anyone waiting know."

"Where are we right now?"  I ask.  "And why are we stopping?"

"We have to let a freight train go by, and there's a siding 
here at the quarry."  The attendant gives me an impersonal 
smile and starts to walk away.

"Excuse me, do you mean Manville Quarry?"

"Yes, sir. Should be coming up on your right, but I don't 
think you can see much this time of night."  He smiles 
again, and goes about his business.

It's a risk, asking him about the quarry, but now I see my 
luck hasn't entirely deserted me.

If the mystery man was at the station, he knows I'm on this 
train.  If I get off, he'll follow me.

x-x-x-x

It's a damn party out here.  I hear a familiar voice as I 
run through the quarry, looking for the man I now know to 
be a super soldier.  My plan, such as it is, is to lure 
him into the quarry, and see if what I've seen and read 
is really true.  If it isn't, I'm probably screwed.

If Doggett is here, I'm sure Scully can't be far away, 
either.  No way would she let him come alone.  There's a 
woman standing next to him, but she's too tall.  Agent 
Reyes, probably.

And then, I hear Scully.  "Mulder?"

She calls again, desperation edging her voice.  It's all 
I can do to keep from running to her.  But at that moment, 
my attention is caught by someone else.  Heading not for 
me, but for Scully.

I've already stepped out of my hiding place, ready to lure 
him away from her.  I'm far enough away that I can hear 
her voice but not the words, or the man's low reply.  He 
takes a few steps closer.  Scully is shouting at him, but 
he continues to advance.  My muscles tense, ready to leap 
into the open and distract him from Scully. 

Then, it happens.  He starts to shake, and his skin looks 
like it's burning from the inside out.  He practically 
flies into Scully, knocking her down as he is pulled by 
an unseen force.  He explodes against a seam of reddish 
rock in the quarry wall.  Exactly like iron filings to 
a magnet.

I see Scully running away from me, into the mist.  I do 
not follow her. 

x-x-x-x

"How you doin', man?"

I look up from my drink, and realize that I'm not hearing 
things; it really is Frohike.

He arranged to meet me in this seedy bar.  I've been sitting 
here for an hour, replaying the sound of Scully's voice in 
my head, and the brief look I had of her.

"Been better," I say.  I've had years of practice schooling 
my face, but Frohike knows me very well.

He pats my shoulder awkwardly.  "Everyone's okay.  I heard 
the thing went the way we thought."

I nod.  "Yeah, well, we know a little more than we did 
before.  But we don't know enough."  I don't want to face 
this, but I have to.  "I can't come home yet, can I?'

Frohike shakes his head.  "But you're gonna have some 
company soon."

I'm already disagreeing.  "I can't ask Scully to leave 
now.  I'm not settled anywhere, I have nothing to offer 
her, and besides --"

"Give me a minute, man.  *We* have a plan."  Frohike grins 
a little.  "You know that little bit of research you asked 
us to do?  That little bit of technology you needed?  
Well,"  Frohike really grins now, "we got it."

I know what he's talking about.  A chip.  *The* chip.  
"Please tell me you're not kidding," I say.

"I'm not, I swear on Langly's mom's grave."

"She's not dead."

"Exactly."  Frohike signals for a beer.  "We'll tell Scully 
about it, and let her decide when.  But we've gotta go soon."

This is the first I've heard that the Gunmen plan to leave, 
too.  I should have realized it long before, but I guess I 
was more focused on my own plans than theirs.  Frohike 
explains that they've been making plans all along, same 
as me.

"We have a place just outside St. Paul," he says.  "We've 
had it for a while, and we think it could make a nice base 
of operations.  And you're welcome, of course, as is Scully.  
In fact, we think it's probably the best place to go.  
Especially since we've discovered that some of the land 
nearby has some special qualities."

"What is it, a giant economy sized warehouse?"  I ask, 
deadpan.

"No, it's a software company.  It's been our hobby for a 
while.  Had to do something with the money from FPS."

"And I thought you invested it all in that film company."

"Go ahead and laugh, Mulder, but that's been a money-maker, 
too."

"Yeah, I guess porn films never go out of style.  I just 
didn't think you could stand being a silent partner."

"They're `erotic art films,' man.  Mulder, if you don't 
knock it off..."

"Okay, okay," I concede.  It's been so long since I've 
talked to a friend.  I'm enjoying this, despite the 
seriousness of the situation.

"Aren't you going to ask about the special features of 
the land there?"  Frohike says.

I give him a grin of my own and recite,  "It's located in 
the middle of the largest source of naturally occurring 
iron ore in the United States."

Frohike gives me a high-five.  "And I thought you were 
just another pretty face."

"What, you thought I didn't read all that crap you sent 
me?"

Our meeting is over too soon.  Frohike promises to keep 
in touch.  "Usual channels," he says.  "Might be best to 
communicate to Scully through us, too."

I shake my head.  "They may think I'm dead now, but I 
should avoid getting in touch with her anyway.  I don't 
want to put her in any more danger."

Frohike nods.  "We'll keep an eye on her, and let you 
know what the plan is.  Where are you going?"

"I still have some things to check out," I say.  "Let me 
know when you're on the move.  And what Scully decides."

x-x-x-x

Not even a month later, I get word.  The Gunmen have left 
DC.  I think that means Scully has said yes to their plan, 
though they don't actually say that.

I haven't tried to get in touch with Scully.  In a weak 
moment, I checked my "trust_no1" account and found the 
message she sent to me right after the quarry incident.  
My hand hovered over the reply key for quite a while, but 
in the end, I didn't do it.

I've been in Arizona for a while.  It's the last place on 
the Fox Mulder Abduction Tour that I have to check out.  
Scully said she "felt" me here.  Doggett said he saw me, 
though Scully and Skinner both knew the impostor for 
what he was.

I check out the school where Gibson Praise hid out.  Or 
rather, what used to be the school.  It looks like it 
burned down in the not too distant past.  Scully says 
Gibson is somewhere safe, but I wonder.  They seem to 
find a way to get to everyone else; what chance does a 
young boy have?  Even one with the special gifts that 
Gibson has.

I worry that whether he's "special" or not, that William 
will be condemned to the kind of life Gibson has.  Never 
feeling safe, never able to experience the things a normal 
kid takes for granted.  I'll do my best to keep that from 
happening.  I wonder again if my father made the same vow; 
that maybe he never intended that either Samantha or I 
would be touched by what he did.

In any event, there's nothing left to find or to feel here.  
I seem to have worked through the worst of my abduction 
issues, at least for now.  I don't sleep any better at 
night, but at least I'm not dreaming of drills and waking 
up screaming.

I wonder how soon I can expect to hear that Scully is on her 
way.

x-x-x-x

Another month passes.  I've been checking out old meteor 
crash sites both in person and over the Internet.  I'm 
interested in the mineral composition as well as the places 
they crashed.  I've got quite a database now.  

I'm in Manson, Iowa, when I get an email telling me that 
Scully has left DC for parts unknown.  That's my signal to 
start heading for Minnesota.  

I take my time, wandering around the Midwest, checking out 
different places I've read about:  old abduction sites, 
places where people were returned, other phenomena that 
might be significant.  I even pay a visit to Lake Okobogee 
while I'm in Iowa.

Frohike told me that it might be awhile before they can 
bring Scully and William in; they have to test the viability 
of their countermeasures before they even tell her where her 
ultimate destination is.  I wasn't very happy to hear that, 
but even I had to see the sense in it.  All I want is to
 know that Scully and William are safe.

Frohike had urged me to make my own arrival as quickly as 
possible.  "You've been safe out there so far, but I 
wouldn't tempt fate, if you know what I mean," he said.  
"I don't want to be the one to explain to Scully that 
you've gone missing again."

I just don't want to be cooped up somewhere, waiting for 
her.  I'd rather be out, doing what I can to find answers.

Every day, as arranged, I make the rounds of the lists to 
see if there's an update on Scully's whereabouts.  The 
operative word is "homecoming."

I'm not far from St. Paul when I see the word I've been 
waiting for, and I don't waste any time.

Frohike has arranged to meet me in Minneapolis, rather 
than give me directions to their new place.  Paranoid to 
the last, I think.  No one has followed me; of that I'm 
certain.  I have no tracking chips, either.  I guess 
the watchers figure that they'll never have to keep tabs 
on me as long as they know where Scully is.

I smile as I see Frohike waiting outside the Metrodome.  
I'm hoping that he might even have them with him.  He's 
standing by himself, but that doesn't mean they aren't 
in the car.  He looks different.  His hair is trimmed, 
and he's clean-shaven.  He's almost respectable looking.  
Not quite like Byers, but you wouldn't look at him funny.  
I probably look like a hobo in comparison.

My smile fades as he doesn't return it.  I feel my gut 
tighten.  Something is wrong.

"Spill it," I say without preamble.  "What's going on?"

"We've lost Scully," Frohike says reluctantly.

It's all I can do not to lose it.  "You WHAT?"  I can't 
help but shout.

"Easy, Mulder, don't make it worse than it is.  Let's get 
going and I'll fill you in on the details."

He leads the way to a van that's a cut above their old 
Volkswagen.  Not new, but plain and unobtrusive.  Once 
we're in, I demand,  "How could you lose them?  What 
the hell happened?"

"We're still trying to figure it out, Mulder," Frohike 
says.  "One minute she was there, fast asleep in her 
apartment with William, and the next minute she was gone."

My gut is really painful now.  "Were they -- were they --"

"Taken?  Not by aliens, if that's what you mean.  And 
whoever did it used her car."

"Where was she?"

"In Des Moines, for the past month or so.  We had a friend 
keeping an eye on her."  I can hardly believe it; I spent 
all that time in Iowa and never once visited Des Moines.  
Oh, life's little ironies.

"Your friend did a great job, didn't he?"  I snap.  "What'd 
he do?  Stalk her?  Scare her away?  Or just watch her get 
snatched under his nose?"

"For your information, Mulder, *she* made sure that Scully 
never knew who she was.  She's good at disguises.  She hardly 
took her attention away, day or night.  Whatever happened 
took place in a very short window of time."

"Do you mean she was being surveiled?"  I'm really pissed 
at this, almost as much as I'm pissed at the fact that 
she's gone missing.  "You guys were *watching* her?  The 
whole time?"

Frohike nods reluctantly.  "Not inside her place, only doors 
and windows.  I'm sure Scully understands."

"Well, you can explain it to her when we find her."  I won't 
allow for any other possibility.  We will find her.  *I* 
will find her.

x-x-x-x

When we pull up to the outside gate of Lodestone, Inc., I'm 
impressed in spite of myself.  It looks like a legitimate 
business, very upscale by the Gunmen's usual standards.  
Frohike had told me it was a software company, but I 
figured it was some little mail order operation somewhere 
in the warehouse district.  Instead, it's in the greenbelt 
corporate park area of St. Paul.  Talk about hiding in 
plain sight.

We drive around to the loading dock area and Langly and 
Byers are waiting for us. 

"You told him," Langly says as we get out.  Frohike nods.  
"And you're still standing, Dude."

"Give me the keys, Frohike,"  I say.  "I'm going to Des 
Moines, right now."

Mulder, it's at least six hours away," Frohike protests.  

"What the hell does that matter?"  I say.  "We're wasting 
time here."

Byers looks uncomfortable.  "I think you should stay here, 
Mulder," he says.  "It's not safe."

"I've been traipsing all over the countryside for the past 
six months, guys.  I *think* I can handle this."

"Scully wouldn't like it."

They tried to pull this before.  I didn't buy it then, and 
I'm not buying it now.  "That's a low blow and you know 
it.  I *need* to go.  If you want a reason, then how 
about I'm a trained investigator?  I might find some 
clues you guys and your `friend' overlooked."

I give them all my best Skinner-like steely stare.  "We're 
wasting time," I say again.

In the end, Frohike agrees to take me along while Byers and 
Langly keep the home fires burning.

Frohike lets me share the driving duties.  I have a lot of 
time to think on the way to Des Moines, and none of the 
conclusions I come to are good ones.  Maybe they've been 
watching us all along, just waiting for one of us to blow 
our cover, and lead them to us.  It's a very real 
possibility, and one I know isn't lost on the guys.

Though I'm still worried, the initial anger has passed.  
I knew, as did Scully, that there were risks inherent in 
this whole undertaking.  The Gunmen did what they could 
to ensure success; it's not their fault if it got all 
fucked up.

By the time we reach the outskirts of Des Moines, I've 
convinced myself that it's actually my fault.  I wanted 
Scully to leave DC.  I needed her.  If it hadn't been 
for my selfishness, she'd probably still be okay.

====

end of Part 4a; continued in Part 4b.

Apart 4b: Fear
by ML

This is the conclusion of Part 4. All headers and 
disclaimers are in Part 4a.

x-x-x-x

It's early evening when we get to Scully's apartment.  
Frohike already has a plan worked out.  He goes to the 
manager's office and introduces himself as Scully's 
brother.  He explains she was called out of town on a 
family emergency and makes sure her rent is paid up 
through the end of the month.  He's come to pick up 
a few things for her, he says, and he'll be in touch 
if she's not coming back right away.

I've been waiting in the van and he signals for me to 
come with him to the apartment.  As we get to Scully's 
door, her neighbor's door opens.

"Oh hi, Carol," Frohike says casually.  "James, this 
is Carol."  He winks at me.  This must be his friend.

She's a knockout, even in old sweats and a big shirt.  
She has dark hair and pouty lips.  She looks a bit like 
a porn actress I used to like.  I hate her on sight.

She sticks her hand out to shake mine and I reluctantly 
take it.

"I'm sorry we're meeting under such unpleasant 
circumstances," she says, in a voice that reminds me 
unpleasantly of Phoebe Green.  Another strike against 
her.

I mutter something in reply and move past her into 
Scully's apartment.  I inspect the handle and the 
lock.  There are no signs of forced entry.

"Have you guys been through here already?"  I ask.

Frohike shakes his head.  "Y-Carol called us yesterday, 
we got in touch with you, and that's it.  You said you 
were on your way, so I waited for you."

I'm somehow relieved.  I don't like the idea of Frohike 
going through Scully's things, even for a legitimate 
purpose.

I have to fight the feeling I'm invading Scully's 
privacy myself as I start to roam around the apartment.  
When I remember Scully's cozy apartment at home, this 
place seems Spartan.  Thin, mud-colored carpet in the 
living room, worn vinyl in the kitchen/dining area.  
The furniture must have come with the place; it 
doesn't look like anything Scully would buy if she 
had a choice.  The whole place speaks of impermanence 
and transience.  I hate that Scully has had to live 
like this.

Yet, it's obvious that she's tried to make it a home 
of sorts.  There's a small flowering plant on the 
dinette table.  The towels in the kitchen are cheerful 
colors.  I look through the cupboards, Frohike hovering 
at my shoulder.  Not much here; Scully's favorite tea, 
a few spices.  Baby cereal, jars of noxious-looking 
strained foods.  The kitchen is spotless, but there 
are dishes in the drainer.  A few baby bottles, a 
bowl, a glass.  The things in the refrigerator are 
very Scully-like: water, juice, non-fat milk, yogurt, 
some more baby stuff. 

The living room is also neat as a pin.  Even the magazines 
are fanned out nicely, which gives it the air of a doctor's 
waiting room.  I pick up a couple to see what Scully's 
been reading.  Nothing that reveals the Scully I know; 
these are home-maker magazines with pretty pictures of 
cheerful rooms.  Maybe these are Scully's views of a 
normal life.

I told Scully once that I'd never seen her as a mother.  
Later, when she made the comment about having a normal 
life, I realized I hadn't envisioned her in that way, 
either.  By then, we both believed that at least the 
motherhood part probably wasn't going to happen.  I 
wonder now, does she still have hopes for that kind 
of life?  Did she hope that having a child would make 
it come true?

I really don't think so.  Scully may have dreams, but 
she's a realist, too.  She's also told me since then 
that she chose to stay with me, and she keeps on 
choosing me.  I just wonder if each time she makes 
that same choice, her life narrows a little more.  
That these magazines reveal a yearning that she 
still has.

There's one magazine in particular that really catches 
my eye:  "Single Parent Magazine."  This is almost too 
much, but I won't lose it with Frohike looking on.  But 
I hope she doesn't have a subscription to this one.

I head to the bedroom, Frohike still at my heels.  "You 
stay out here," I tell him.  He raises his hands in 
surrender and backs off.  "I think I'll go next door 
and talk to Carol," he says.

Suits me just fine.  I take a breath and enter her 
bedroom.

Here, there are still no signs of a struggle, but 
definitely signs of a hasty departure.  The closet 
door stands open.  The bed is unmade.  I pick up one 
of the pillows and press it to my face.  Unmistakably 
Scully.  I'm tempted to take the pillow with me.  
Instead, I put it back in place and smooth the 
bedclothes up and pull the bedspread over them.  
William's crib is next to the bed.  Only the sheet 
covering the mattress is there.  I imagine Scully 
lifting William up, blanket and all, and bundling 
him out of the apartment.  A look into the closet 
reveals a few empty hangers and a pair of shoes.  
The bureau is almost full of Scully's things.  The 
second drawer I open has some underthings in it, 
like she grabbed a few off the top and left the 
rest.  I run my hands under the remaining items to 
see if anything else is hidden in the drawer, then 
I carefully smooth everything back into place.  I 
do the same with the other drawers.  The bottom one 
is empty except for a tiny pair of socks.  Those 
I do pocket.

I sit on the bed and try to imagine the circumstances.  
I don't think she was taken against her will.  There's 
nothing here to indicate anything like that.  She left 
in haste, but obviously took the time to pack a few 
things.  She left her watch on the nightstand, but 
there's no toothbrush or hairbrush in the bathroom.

Something must have scared Scully into running like 
that.  I need to know more.  I guess I need to talk 
to "Carol," much as I'd rather not, to get more 
details.

As I stand up, I notice the nightstand drawer.  I'd 
almost overlooked it.  Scully evidently did, too, 
because she left something behind.

It looks like a college composition book, the kind 
with the mottled black and white cardboard cover.  
It's held closed with an elastic band because there's 
things tucked between some of the pages.  I take the 
band off and a few fall out onto the bed.

They're pictures of William, meticulously dated.  The 
book itself is written in Scully's own version of shorthand, 
but I can remember how to read some of it.  It's a record 
of William's growth and development.  It looks like 
Scully started it not long after she left DC.  I wonder 
if she intended it for me.  I want to think so, anyway.  
Regardless, it's coming with me.

"Did you find anything?"  Frohike asks as I enter the 
apartment next door.

I shake my head.  "I need to ask you some questions," 
I say to Carol.  She inclines her head but doesn't say 
anything.

"When did you notice she was gone?  How long had she 
been gone when you noticed?"

Carol goes over to a small monitor.  "I didn't notice 
until the next morning, but I have a tape of the night 
before."  She fiddles with the remote and runs the 
tape backward.

We look at a grainy gray image of Scully's front door.  
There's a date and time stamp in the corner.  The time 
reads 2:00 AM.  Carol forwards the tape a little until 
we see a change.

At 2:15:10, the door opened.  Scully appeared, William 
in her arms, a backpack slung over her shoulder.  She 
looked around cautiously.  I can see the gun in her 
free hand.  As we watch, she slowly walked out of the 
frame.

This confirms my suspicions.  Scully left of her own 
free will.  Now I just have to figure out why, and 
hope that can tell me where.

x-x-x-x

Frohike and I are both pretty quiet on the way back 
to St. Paul.  Carol, or Yves, as Frohike called her, 
couldn't tell us much more.  She'd been away from the 
monitors for only a few minutes, during which Scully 
had made her escape.  She hadn't looked at the tapes 
until the next morning, when Scully failed to follow 
her usual routine.

I am still pissed but Carol's story reminded me 
uncomfortably of a stakeout of my own that I left 
for mere seconds, only to find the perp had been and 
gone in my short absence.  We parted, if not cordially, 
at least civilly.

Frohike sacks out in the back of the van while I drive 
the first leg.  He'd suggested going back to St. Paul, 
absent any clues.  I was all for canvassing the neighborhood, 
but conceded that it would probably cause more harm than 
good.

"Byers and Langly will have come up with something while 
we were gone," Frohike said.  He'd called to let them 
know we were coming back, and asked if they'd heard 
anything.  "Scully had an emergency number," he told 
me.  "She'll call it, I'm sure."

I fervently hoped so.

x-x-x-x

My nightmares of abduction and torture have now been 
replaced by dreams of Scully.  I'm more disturbed by 
this, and if possible, feel even more helpless than 
before.  All I can do is wait, and hope.

I have no idea where Scully's gone.  She might not stay 
in one place, though if I know her at all, that's exactly 
what she'll do.  She'll find a safe place and hole up there.

I think I've figured out why she ran away.  My own 
nightmares were the key.  She was alone, she had no 
one to turn to, no one to talk to.  The stress of 
keeping not just herself, but William, safe, had 
to be enormous.

If she doesn't want to be found, she won't be found.  
I just hope that she's found a place where she can 
feel safe for a while.

My biggest fear is that she'll decide to stay away 
forever.

x-x-x-x

The guys are on this.  Byers put out the word to all 
the MUFON members in the Midwest to keep an eye out 
for Scully.  I'm all for driving randomly around myself,
but even I know that's pretty futile.  So I wait, and 
hope, and trust that the guys are doing everything that 
can be done.  Even though I'm sure Scully wasn't taken 
against her will, I feel just as helpless as I did then. 

Scully didn't use the emergency number Frohike sent 
her, but I think that's because it's in the journal 
I now have in my possession.  I've got some of the 
entries translated and memorized now, and I'm working 
on the others.  I find comfort in some of the words.

"W smiled today.  Very much like M, though I hope 
not so rare."

"Thought W said `Da' today.  Hasn't yet said Mama, but 
sometimes makes `mmm' sound.  I talk to him every day.  
I tell him how much he looks like his daddy."

I look at the pictures Scully took.  Frankly, I don't 
see much of a resemblance, though his eyes look like 
mine.  His nose doesn't look very big, at least not 
yet.

"W is crawling all over.  Already baby-proofed, but 
he figured out the cupboard locks.  I put all the 
chemicals, etc. in the cupboard above the stove."

That's my Scully, always a step ahead.  It's good to 
be reminded of that.

In between repeated readings of Scully's journal, and 
bugging the guys for any information, I continue to 
do research and work out my findings.  It's hard to 
do it alone.  The guys are willing to help, and there 
are others here at the site who are scientists, but I 
don't want their help.  I want Scully's.  I always 
felt I could come to conclusions faster because I had 
Scully to help me work through the facts.  We know 
each other so well, and I'm having a hard time working 
with anyone else.

I still have time on my hands, and my thoughts inevitably 
turn to Scully.  I wonder more and more if she can possibly 
be satisfied with the kind of life I can offer her.  It's 
about as far from normal as a person can get.  We'll be 
on the run for the foreseeable future; and how much future 
we have seems to be in doubt.

The guys have outdone themselves on our behalf.  They've 
created a safe house that would definitely be the envy 
of the Witness Protection Program.  Most of one of the 
large buildings on site is devoted to living space and 
recreational facilities.  I have my own quarters, larger 
than my former apartment.  I was surprised to discover 
that they'd brought some of my stuff from DC.

"We gave you a two bedroom place so there'd be room for 
the kid," Langly said when they showed me.  There was 
already a crib set up in the second room, though it 
wasn't furnished with much else.

"What if Scully wants separate quarters?"  I asked.

They all looked shocked and hemmed and hawed.

Byers finally spoke up.  "Of course, there's plenty of 
room if that's what you want..."

"It's not what I want," I said.  "It's what Scully might 
want."  I didn't want to make any assumptions on her part.

"We'll keep the apartment closest to you for her," Byers 
said.  "We weren't able to get any of her furniture, but 
we can order anything she needs."

I nodded.  I didn't like revealing my insecurities to 
the guys, but that last thing I wanted to do was assume 
that I knew what Scully wanted.  We'd never had a chance 
to discuss our future before I left DC, and I didn't 
want to present it as a fait accompli to her.

I realize that I made certain assumptions in the past, 
and now I've been wondering about things that I never 
gave a thought to before. 

Did Scully want to be courted?  Would she rather have had 
a conventional relationship with me, one where we went on 
dates, where I left her at end of the evening with a 
goodnight kiss, brought her flowers?  

I'd always assumed Scully didn't care about things like 
that because I didn't.  I thought I was letting her call 
the shots, though.  I let her decide the when and the 
where.  I figured if she wanted the "how" to be different, 
she'd have said something.

It's true we've never talked much about our feelings, 
even to each other.  Especially not to each other.  
Maybe I should have asked her.  Maybe I should have 
told her how I felt sooner, or at least have done a 
better job of it once I finally did.

For now, I'll just have to put that on my list of regrets.  
It's getting longer all the time.

x-x-x-x

Frohike makes the trip to Des Moines every week or so, 
just to check out the lay of the land.  They guys are 
convinced that Scully's okay, and that she'll turn up.  
They tell me that this unexpected turn of events is 
convincing evidence that their countermeasure to the 
chip actually works.  I don't know how they can say 
that, but I don't have any choice but to believe.

I'm always edgier than usual on the days Frohike makes 
the trip to Des Moines.  He always calls when he gets 
there and calls on the way home, just to let us know 
if he's discovered anything new.  He hasn't so far.  I 
guess I hope that he'll show up there one day and Scully 
will be back, as if she'd never left.  I know it's 
ridiculously unlikely, but I like to think it could happen.

When Frohike calls in the late afternoon to say that he 
has nothing new to report, I decide to go out for a run 
around the compound.  It's huge, and there are paths all 
through it for running or biking.  There's even a par 
course, and a basketball court.  The guys told me that 
most of the landscaping and security features were in 
place when they took it over, though they added some 
additional measures of their own.  Lodestone had been 
a failing dot-com when the guys decided to invest in 
it.  They'd had a side-business in security programs 
and consulting for some time, and the money they earned 
through game programming allowed them to invest in even 
bigger opportunities.

The grounds are great.  This time of year, there are 
flowering trees and plants all over the place.  There 
are picnic areas and areas that have been left more 
natural.  I can almost forget that there's a tall 
electric fence around the entire perimeter, not to 
mention infrared sensors, cameras, and other high tech 
security systems, as well.

So far, it's just the guys and me living here, though 
there's room for more.  I have my own ideas about who 
else I'd invite to come here.  I'm mindful of Jeremiah 
Smith's warning about concentrating too many of us in 
one location, and I'm aware that one day we'll probably 
have to separate.  

I'm hoping that by then, Scully and William will be with 
me, and *we* won't be separating.  I hope not, anyway.

I run myself hard.  It helps, sometimes.  I've been 
running a lot lately.  Just another irony in my life.  
I'm staying in the same place, but I'm still running.

I see Byers looking for me as I trudge back up the path 
to the buildings.  This must mean something.  Byers is 
the head of operations for the company, and he takes 
his job seriously.  He's good at it, too.  Langly is 
the chief programmer, or as it says on his business 
cards, "Master of Kung Fu."  Frohike doesn't have a 
title or business cards, but he's the go-to guy for 
everything.  He runs the covert operations side of 
the house, and he's also damned good at his job.

"Byers," I greet him.  "I don't usually see you out 
here."  I'm a little worried, but I try not to let 
it show.

"Frohike got a call from the emergency number,"  Byers 
said.  "Scully's back."

"You're sure?" I ask him.  "You're absolutely sure."

"Frohike left a number with the apartment manager, and 
someone called it this afternoon.  He was on his way 
back here and he stopped to check his messages.  She 
called just a little while ago.  He's turned around 
and is going back there."

"Are you sure?"  I ask again.  I don't want Frohike 
walking into a trap, no matter how much I want to see 
Scully.  "Maybe he should wait for me, and I could go 
with him, just in case."

Byers shakes his head.  "It's really Scully.  Frohike 
confirmed the sighting with Yves, too."

Okay, so Yves has now redeemed herself in my eyes.  A 
little, anyway.

x-x-x-x

I can't sleep.  I don't know why I'm even bothering to 
try.  I get up and pace around the apartment.  I calculate 
again the soonest that Frohike might arrive back here 
with his precious charges.  

I pick up Scully's journal again.  I wish there'd been 
a few pictures of her, too.  I think of how she looked 
before I left.  She'd let her hair grow longer, and she 
had a slightly more voluptuous look and feel than she'd 
ever had before, a wonderful by-product of her pregnancy.  
The surveillance video showed her hair as shorter, but 
the images weren't distinct enough to see much detail.  
Doesn't matter how she looks, as long as I can look at 
her.

x-x-x-x

I'm wandering all over the facility.  It's a Saturday, and 
I can have the run of the place, though the guys expect me 
to keep a low profile during the week.  They've screened 
their employees well, but we figure the less people who 
see me here, the better.  Trust No One.  I should 
needlepoint it on a pillow.

I wander around the front building and find Byers, who 
looks like he's been doing the same thing.  "No sign of 
them," Byers says.  "They should be here by late 
afternoon, even if Frohike stopped for the night."

I wonder fleetingly what we could do if they don't show 
up?  No one could keep me here then, I'd be out scouring 
every inch of the road, and everything else, between here 
and Des Moines, for as long as it took.  

Byers sees my expression and he has a worried look on 
his face.  "They're fine," he reassures me.  

I know that part of my worry has to do more with what will 
happen once they're here.  This is the turning point.  
We've been on the run, in one way or another, for a long 
time.  We've been forced apart by people and events beyond 
our control for years.  They've separated us by force, by 
deception, by attempts to seduce us.  We've always found 
our way back to each other, in the end.  I don't want it 
to be all for nothing, now that we have a chance.  

I find myself back outside my apartment.  Scully and 
William will have to stay here for a bit until we know 
what she wants to do.  I'll give her the bed, and make 
sure she knows I'm not part of the deal unless she wants 
it.  I haven't been sleeping in it, anyway.  If I can't 
be with Scully, I might as well sleep on the sofa.

The message light is blinking on the phone when I walk 
through the door.  My heart begins to race again.  It's 
Byers, as I'd hoped.  "They're here.  We're taking them 
to The Thinker."

Who the hell is that?  Then I remember; the guys thought 
it was cool to name the conference rooms after people 
they knew or admired.  The problem is, I never go to 
their meetings, so I can't remember where they are, 
half the time.  I know it's somewhere on the first 
floor of the main building, so I'll figure it out by 
process of elimination.

As I enter the main corridor, I hear voices.  Byers.  
Langly.  Is that Scully speaking?  I pick up the pace 
a bit.  I'm glad the door to the conference room is 
open.  I feel as nervous as I did the day I returned 
from Tunguska and walked into the Senate hearing room.

Langly says something about John Nash, and I hear Scully 
ask if he's here.  Sounds like a cue to me.

"Don't be silly, Scully."  I say as I enter the room.   
"He's too high-profile now.  We had to turn him down."

Scully turns at the sound of my voice.  Oh, I remember 
that look.  I know I have a stupid grin on my face, but 
I don't care.  I look like hell, anyway.

But Scully...oh my god, I've never seen anyone look so 
good in all my life.  She's got William in her arms, 
and the biggest smile I've ever seen on her face.  I 
can't move; all I can do is look at them.

Then William speaks.  "DA!" is all he says, but it 
breaks the spell.  He's reaching for me, Scully's 
reaching for me, I reach for Scully and William, 
and pull them both into my arms.  There's a commotion 
behind me, but I only have ears and eyes for Scully 
and William.  I feel Scully's head on my chest, and 
William next to her.  I'm murmuring to Scully, saying 
everything I've held inside for so long, in my own 
verbal shorthand.  "Scully," I say again and again.  
"Scully. Scully."  I never want to let them go.

The guys have left the room, closing the door behind 
them.  I'm glad; all I want is this moment, one perfect
 moment together before we go on.

At last, I hold my family in my arms.

=====

end of Part Four; concluded in Part Five.

=====

Apart 5: Adjustment
by ML

William, his face smeared with mashed bananas, watches 
from his ringside seat as I move around the kitchen.  I 
turn to smile at him and he smiles back.  He looks so 
like Scully when he does that, it's a good thing he can't 
talk yet.  If he asked me for something, I'd give it to 
him, without hesitation.

He offers me a fistful of banana, and I nibble on his 
fingers, which makes him shriek with glee.  Who'd have 
thunk that Fox Mulder, Special Agent, would be a daddy, 
and would enjoy it this much?  If only the old gang in 
VICAP could see me now.

In the few weeks since Scully and William arrived at 
this place, I've transformed from Bachelor Boy to 
Domestic God.  Well, not entirely, but my life has 
made a 180 degree course change from its usual trajectory.

I'd like to say I couldn't be happier, but there are 
plenty of things that still need to be resolved.  

There's the small matter of finding a way to destroy the 
super soldiers other than luring them into a quarry.  
I sense that it's a gambit that won't work very often.

I personally would like to know why it's so important 
that either my son or I die.  Call me touchy, but it's 
definitely high on my list of Things to Know and Prevent.

And of course, there's the virus, which no doubt has 
mutated again, the still impending threat of alien 
invasion, not knowing who to trust, and so on.

Same circus, different clowns.

All of these matters have a certain urgency to them, 
but I have other things on my mind tonight.

First and foremost, my mind is on Scully.  I still can 
hardly believe that she and William are here with me, 
and safe.

x-x-x-x

The day they walked into Lodestone headquarters, bedraggled 
and exhausted both physically and emotionally, was the best 
day of my life, period.  I'd been apart from them for so 
long, and though I kept my game face on for the boys, until 
they arrived, I feared I might never see them again.

Since that day, things have happened quickly.  A little 
too quickly, and lately I've had a sense of time slipping 
away from me.  We were barely reunited before we started 
sharing what we'd learned about the forces ranged against 
us, and planning how to deal with them. 

It feels good to be with Scully again.  I had been looking
forward to the resumption of our working relationship just 
as much as our personal one.  It's not really the same, 
though.  Something is missing from both, and I want that 
something back.  

It's not her fault, or mine.  We've had a lot going on 
since then.  Scully's been working hard to get the lab 
up to her standards, and she's had some catching up to 
do on what we know about the super soldiers and their 
genetic make-up.  

And then, there's the small matter of William.  He's not 
a demanding baby, but he can't do anything for himself 
yet, and he needs constant care and attention.  We seem 
to feed, burp, bathe, change, and put him down for a nap 
on about a four-hour cycle.  It hasn't left us much time 
for privacy.

And, I'm sad to say it, no time at all for intimacy.

Yes, Scully and I have been sharing a bed, but that's 
about it.  I end up doing a lot of my work in the evening 
after Scully has gotten home and can spend some time with 
William.  Most nights, I'm still at the computer when 
Scully calls it a night.  She's asleep when I come to 
bed, and I hate to wake her when I know William will be 
needing her attention again before long.  Sometimes we 
share a little cuddling, maybe a kiss or two, and it's 
lights out.  Not the way I envisioned things at all.

x-x-x-x

I grab a washcloth and start to wipe William down.  He's 
not crazy about this part of the routine, but he tolerates 
it most of the time.  This afternoon he's not feeling 
particularly cooperative.  "C'mon, William," I mutter, 
as he wriggles around in his high chair.  He throws a 
gob of banana on the floor and I stoop to clean it up.  
I'm not usually that particular about a messy floor, but 
I don't want to do a pratfall and end up in traction.  
William might find it funny, but it would wreck my plans 
for the evening.

I've been spending a lot of time with William.  It just 
makes sense for me to stay home with him.  Scully can't 
do her lab work from here, and most of the work I do is 
computer research these days.  The FBI auditor would be 
so proud of me.

I was pretty nervous about staying with William alone, 
I'll admit, but we seemed to hit it off.  I was afraid 
William would see me as an interloper, someone who was 
taking Scully's attention away from him.  He has no 
worries on that head.  Scully is so attuned to him that 
she knows what he needs at the first whimper.

I don't know that I'll ever have that kind of connection 
with William.  It's something I'll never tire of seeing 
between them, and I can't help but be a bit envious of it.

It was very hard for Scully to leave William the first 
time she went to the lab.  I know she was tempted to take 
William with her.  I didn't try to talk her out of it, at 
least not directly.

The first morning, we walked over with her to the main 
building and waited for the elevator together.

"You trust me with him, don't you, Scully?"  I asked her.  
I held William with one arm, and her with the other.

"Of course I do, Mulder," she replied.  "It's just..."

I knew without her finishing the sentence.  It's just 
that she hadn't had him out of her sight for the past 
several months.  Even though she knew he was safe with 
me.

I saw that Scully was torn by the twin desires of mothering 
William, and stepping back into her professional life.

I finally got her to go by promising to bring him by midway 
through the morning.  "You can come home for lunch, too," I 
said.  "You can take as long as you want, or not work at 
all if you don't want to."

She squared her shoulders.  "I'll be fine, Mulder.  It's 
just taking some adjusting."  She kissed William, then me, 
then William again.  Then she got on the elevator.

"Okay, William," I said.  "Don't make a liar out of me.  
Let's show Mom how well the guys can do on their own." 

I'd been practicing the diaper-changing and bathing 
routines, with Scully's hovering assistance, for the 
past week.  I've done okay with both, for the most part.

Feeding is another matter.  William is taking some solids 
now, and Scully has been starting to wean him.  I don't 
know if she ever had any trouble with him, but for 
William, meal time is a game, and one where his dad 
doesn't know the rules.  The first couple of times I 
wore more food than I got into William.

This is one of those times.  William shrieks -- he's been 
doing that a lot lately, especially when my ear is in close 
range -- and throws another handful of banana.  He laughs.

"You're not helping, buddy," I tell him, and he shrieks 
gleefully again.  It's a good thing the Gunmen's quarters 
are on the other side of the building.  If we had neighbors, 
they'd probably be calling child protective services.

I give up, temporarily, to try and finish the food 
preparation.  The casserole I'm making has to bake for 
a while.  I'd planned it that way on purpose, the better 
to get William ready, and get myself cleaned up, before 
Scully arrives.

Tonight is Pamper Scully Night.  William's going to stay 
with the guys, and I'm planning a special dinner.  I've 
got flowers, candles, music, chocolate, and a movie.  It's 
date night, the date we've never gone on.

I want this night to be about fun, and relaxation, and 
forgetting about the world outside.  This is my way of 
saying, "time out."  I don't want us to just get sucked 
into the next big crisis, or as Scully herself once said, 
become merely the subjects of an unending X-File.  If we 
are to survive what's to come, and protect William, we 
need this.

My theory is, once we get the personal stuff right, the 
professional stuff will fall into place, too.  We've been 
dancing around each other since our reunion, and not in 
a good way.

We kind of got started off on the wrong foot, I guess.  
And for some reason, it's been difficult to broach the 
subject.  We talk about work.  We talk about William, 
though not as in-depth about either as I think we should. 
We haven't talked at all about ourselves and our feelings.

I'm not as uncertain about things as I once was.  I'm 
pretty sure, strike that, I *know* that Scully loves me.  
But the personal side of things is not going as smoothly 
as I hoped they would once we were reunited.

I reflect that maybe part of that is my fault.  Regardless 
of my confidence about Scully's feelings for me,  I have 
been a little reluctant to assume that everything's fine 
between us, and that we can go back to the old status quo.

The thing is, there never really has been a status quo. 

Someone once asked me if I had a significant other.  I kind 
of stumbled over the answer.  Scully is without question 
the most significant relationship I have in my life, but 
not in any conventional way.

It goes with the unconventional territory we cover.  Every 
time I thought we might have a small respite, a stretch of 
time to relax and regroup, and maybe *talk* about where we 
were headed, something else happened.  I'd say it was a 
conspiracy, but I think it's just plain bad timing.

I had a lot of time to think about this while we were apart 
this time.  When I was abducted, I didn't even know Scully 
was pregnant.  It was a huge shock to come back and find 
out that she was, and to know that I was the father.  It 
took me a while to adjust to both ideas.

Now I've had so much time to think about it that I've passed 
beyond acceptance to self-doubt.  Not that I'm ever very far 
from there, anyway.  That's a pattern in my relationship 
with Scully I'd like to change.  

I think Scully is where I was when I was returned.  Not 
sure of where she fits in, or if she made the right decision 
to leave DC.  It's my job to see that she does not regret 
her decision.

x-x-x-x

At last I've got the chicken browned and everything's in the 
oven.  I thought about doing something a little fancier than 
a chicken and rice casserole, but my cooking skills are 
decidedly rusty.  And with the kid around, we're lucky to 
get canned soup most nights.

"Da!  Dow'!  Dow'!"  William is demanding.  I lift him out 
of the high chair and let him crawl around the kitchen floor 
while I wipe out the dishes.  He can't get into the other 
rooms; thanks to the Gunmen, we have a baby gate for every 
door.  William hasn't figured out how to unlatch them yet.  
The Gunmen are proud that they can stay one step ahead of 
the kid, at least for now.

I lean against the kitchen counter and watch William as he 
unearths his favorite saucepan lid and bangs it on the floor.  
I go back to my chores to the percussive sounds of William 
the One Man Band.

I've been looking for it, but I haven't seen any evidence 
yet of unusual behavior in William.  In the journal Scully 
kept while we were apart, she seemed to be watching for signs.  
We've both been told at different times that he's "special," 
but no one has actually told us why or how.

William spooked Scully so badly not long after I left that 
she won't allow a mobile over his crib.  She's very resistant 
to the idea that William is "different" in any way.  I know 
she'd like to raise William as a normal child, and give him 
the kind of life she had.  I think she realizes by now that 
this won't be possible.

I wish I could give her that.  I wish I could give her 
everything she deserves.  I will at least give her what 
I can.

x-x-x-x

One of the things I resolved to do when I left DC, was to 
try and make sense of my abduction and where it figured 
into the big picture.  I was driven away not so much out 
of fear for myself, but fear that not knowing what had 
happened to me would somehow bring harm to Scully and 
William.  I can't say I found all the answers I sought.  
As usual, I was left with more questions.  But I discovered 
enough to allay any fear that I could become something that 
would turn on Scully and William.

It had been close; closer than I want to think about.  
Scully saved me from a fate that was literally worse 
than death.

I didn't just discover things about myself on my travels, 
I discovered some things about Scully as well.  When she 
went missing with William, I had an epiphany of sorts about 
her.  I saw a side of her that I'd seldom thought about.

She'd dropped hints to me in the past, and I guess I'd 
filed them away in some dark recess of my brain.  When I 
searched Scully's apartment in Des Moines, all these hints 
from over the years coalesced the many disparate images I'd 
collected of Scully.  I'd seen her as an agent, a doctor, a 
partner, friend, and finally, a lover.  What I hadn't seen 
or understood yet was Scully as a woman.

Yeah, sure, I *know* Scully's a woman, but that's never been 
the way I'd describe her first.  Scully is -- Scully.  She's 
an extraordinary human being.  But beyond the Scully I know 
and love with all my heart, is the woman who longed for a 
child of her own.  The woman who, even when driven away from 
her life, tried to keep some beauty around her, even if it 
was only pictures in magazines.

This is the part of Scully I dismissed in the past, that I 
didn't even try to understand, because it didn't fit in with 
my view of her.  It couldn't because the kind of normal life 
Scully talked about seemed to exclude me.  Because of that, 
I think I was scared away.  I rejected that part of her.  
Stupid, isn't it?  The man who's faced down bioterrorists 
and survived an alien abduction is terrified of a five-foot-
two female.  Well, she *does* carry a gun.

Or maybe I'm just a commitment-phobe.  That's a phrase I've 
seen on the cover of women's magazines now and then.  You 
know, the ones that tell you if you're single, female, and 
unattached, it's just because you haven't found Mr. Right, 
and by damn, we're going to help you find him.  And when you 
do, we'll show you how to Bend Him to Your Will.

I've never seen Scully reading any of those magazines, but 
I've read some of them while standing in the checkout line 
at the supermarket.  Gotta know what the opposition is 
planning, after all.

Except that I've never looked at Scully as the opposition, 
not in that way.  She has opposed me as a scientist, sure.  
But I never felt that she was a predatory female.  Believe 
me, I know the difference.  Exhibit A, Phoebe Green; Exhibit 
B, Diana Fowley.  Even though it took me a long time to 
realize it.

I'd have liked it if Scully at least occasionally showed 
some awareness of me as a man, but she never did.  My 
reaction to being ignored was to tease her and pile on 
the innuendo, to touch her, tower over her, anything to 
elicit the response I hoped for.  But nothing I ever did 
seemed to faze Scully in the least.

The truth is, Scully is just really good at hiding her 
feelings.  In the field we're in, she can't afford any 
sign of weakness, or to give tit for tat and expect to be 
taken seriously.  It's only rarely that Scully has let me 
see her fun-loving side, the "girly" Scully.  The "Dana" 
part of her, for want of a better term.

I treasure those glimpses of her:  The Scully who enjoyed 
being shown how to swing a bat, even though I'm pretty sure
she already knew how.  The Scully who danced with me in 
Memphis.  The one who giggled and waved a Bureau credit 
card at me as a come-on, one night in Hollywood.

I want to know all the Scullys there are, and the Danas, 
too.  I realize that the woman who is all the things I 
know, and more besides, is just waiting for the right time 
and place to reveal herself.

I want that time and place to be tonight.  Not that I kid 
myself that I'm going to sweep her off her feet and that 
everything we've been struggling with will suddenly become 
clear, and easy to say.  But I'd like to open the door a 
little wider than it is right now.

I'm tired of being an absentee lover.

x-x-x-x

My kitchen duties done, I scoop William off the floor and 
take him into the bathroom.  I'm especially proud of my 
bathing method.  I strip both of us down, and we shower 
together.  I'm not sure Scully would approve, but I'm very 
careful with him.  I don't find it nearly as much fun as 
showering with Scully would be, and it's a bit more difficult 
logistically, but William seems to enjoy it.  I've actually 
grown to like using baby shampoo.  My hair has never been 
softer.

I wrap William in a towel and set him next to me on the bath 
mat as I quickly towel off.  In a flash, he's left the towel 
behind and rapidly crawls toward the bedroom.  "Not so fast, 
Naked Boy," I say, and grab him back, lifting him high.  More 
shrieks of glee.  I'm glad he finds his old man so funny.  
I wrap the towel around him again and plop him on the bed 
as I pull on some sweatpants.

It's warm enough inside that I just put a diaper on him.  I'd 
love to try and put him down for a nap, but I don't think 
he'll cooperate.  Besides, Scully will be here any time 
now, and the Gunmen are due to come get William right after 
that.  Instead, I warm William's bottle and grab an iced 
tea for myself, and we settle on the sofa for a little 
quiet time.

I try not to obsess over tonight.  I'm afraid if I pin too 
much on it, it will collapse under the weight of my 
expectations.  After all, I'm springing this on Scully.  
Maybe I should have said something this morning.

I hate being so insecure.  I so want this evening to be 
just right for her, and of course for me.

x-x-x-x

As I've said, Scully was pretty much exhausted the day she 
and William arrived at Lodestone.  Not that I caught onto 
that all by myself, though I should have.  I know how I 
felt when I was on my own.  It had to have been that much 
harder for Scully.  She had not only herself, but William 
to take care of.  But I was so glad to see them, safe and 
whole, that I couldn't see the obvious signs.  In fact, 
the first afternoon, I was a little put out at Scully.

It was my fault, really.  All I could think of was having 
some time alone with her, just to touch her, look at her, 
be with her.  After we got William settled, I looked forward 
to a long afternoon of nothing but Scully.

We did share a few kisses, and nothing will ever be as sweet 
to me as feeling Scully in my arms after being so long apart.  
But as soon as we sat down and I had her cuddled against my 
side, she fell asleep.

I tried to ignore the blow to my ego, and just enjoyed the 
feeling of Scully's warm body pressed up against me, and 
hearing her soft breathing.  Didn't I say that it would be 
enough just to be with her?

Okay, so I lied.  I didn't know how hard it would be to sit 
there and just watch her sleep.  There was so much I wanted 
to hear from her, and to say to her.

After an hour or so, I picked her up and carried her to bed.  
That seemed to set a precedent that's been hard to break.

x-x-x-x

Apart 5b: Adjustment
by ML

This is the conclusion of Part 5.  All headers, etc., are 
in Part 5a.

x-x-x-x

I'm lying on the sofa and William is drowsing on my naked 
chest when I hear the beep and click of the electronic lock.  
"Hey buddy," I murmur,  "Mom's home."

William barely moves except to anchor his thumb more securely 
in his mouth.  I decide to stay put.  "Hey, Scully," I say 
softly as she walks in the door.

She looks even better to me than she did the first day back.  
Her hair is longer, and she's kept it the blond-ish color 
she'd let it go to while on the run.  She doesn't look nearly 
so tired, and the hunted look is gone from her eyes.  I like 
to think that I have something to do with that.  Well, me, 
and the sense of security this place gives her.

She smiles a bit as she catches sight of us lolling on the 
sofa.  "Another busy day, I see," she comments.

"You have no idea," I tell her as she approaches.  "Care to 
join us?"

She shakes her head.  "I'd rather just look at you."

Ooh, that's a promising opening.

Scully kneels down and kisses William.  "Hey, Sweetie," she 
says.

William wriggles a little and raises his head, strings of 
drool cascading from his mouth.

"I think he drooled on you," Scully remarks.

"Wouldn't be the first time," I reply.  "Like mother, like 
son."

"Very funny, Mulder," she says, giving me a light smack on 
the arm that turns into a caress.

"Not in front of the child, Scully," I say in mock protest.  
"How was your day at the office, Dear?"

She smiles again at my joking endearment and shakes her head. 
 "No breakthroughs yet, Mulder.  It's a tedious process."

I start to say that I wasn't expecting any breakthroughs, but 
I don't want to begin that discussion.  Scully has very high 
expectations of herself, and while rationally she knows 
better, I think she starts each day with that hope.

Instead, I say,  "We can talk about it later.  Why don't 
you go change, and we can relax a little."  I'd like to get 
up and take her in my arms right now, but I'm a little 
hampered by drowsy baby.

Scully nods and stands up, brushing her fingertips along 
my arm again before she goes.  She's been doing that more 
the last couple of days.  I think it's a hopeful sign.

By the time Scully's done showering and changing, I've got 
William and myself dressed and the guys are on their way.

Scully notices William's bag by the door right away.  "Mulder, 
what's going on?"  She sounds a little fearful.

"It's okay," I say.  "William's going to stay with the guys 
tonight."  As I finish speaking, there's a rat-a-tat-tat on 
the door.

Scully takes William from me and for a moment I think she's 
going to refuse.  We look at each other over the top of 
William's head and there's another knock on the door.  Scully 
nods the tiniest bit and kisses William's forehead.  For his 
part, he's silent, his blue-gray eyes bright and watchful.

I open the door to the guys.  I'll never get used to seeing 
Byers in what passes for casual:  a pressed Oxford cloth shirt 
and twill pants, finished with tasseled loafers.  Give him a 
cardigan and he could almost be Mr. Rogers.  "Good evening, 
Agent Scully, Mulder," he says formally.

"Dana," Scully reminds him gently.  She steps back to allow 
the three to enter.  William catches sight of Frohike and 
begins to bounce in Scully's arms.  I don't know why, but 
Frohike appears to be William's favorite.

"It's okay, Scully," I say.  "I've already briefed them, 
they know exactly what to do."

Another long moment of Scully looking at me, then she kisses 
William and hands him over to Frohike.  I recognize the 
importance of the gesture.  Scully trusts these guys.

But it doesn't keep her from saying,  "Do you know how to 
change him?  Mulder, did you pack his favorite toy?  Are 
there plenty of diapers?"

"Believe me, Dana, we've got it all covered," Byers says, 
and Langly rolls his eyes.  He picks up William's bag.  
"Jeez, this weighs a ton!"

"You guys know the drill," I say.  "Don't hesitate to call."  
I've given them what amounts to a book of instructions, and 
one of them has spent time with me every day this week, 
learning how to change diapers and the like.  They're non-
violent guys, but if I give them one more direction, I think 
they might revise their philosophy.

Frohike nods.  "Don't worry.  Have a good time.  Don't do 
anything *I* wouldn't do."

I bite back a crushing reply and shut the door on them.  When 
I turn, I see Scully watching me, her eyes darting from the 
door to me, then back again.

"You okay?"  I ask softly.  She nods, biting her lower lip.

I can't resist any longer.  I pull her into my arms.  She's 
tense against me but I can feel her begin to relax a little 
as I hold her.  After a few long minutes, I feel her arms 
around my waist.

I stroke her back softly.  She holds me a little tighter, and 
I let go to tip her face up to mine.  "I'm sorry, I guess I 
should have told you," I tell her.  "I didn't mean to scare 
you."

She shakes her head and I brush the hair away from her face, 
cradling it in my hands.  We simply look at each other for 
a long minute until I give in to myself and lower my mouth 
to hers.  I intend this to be a comfort kiss, a way to 
reassure Scully (and myself) that everything's okay.

It's Scully who makes it into something a little more 
intense.  She parts her lips just a little and lets her 
tongue slide along my lower lip.  This is one of her 
favorite moves, and it never fails to turn me on.

Before I know what's hit me, we're on the sofa, still 
locked in our kiss.  I think dazedly of all the smartass 
comments I could make about Scully being a cheap date, 
but fortunately for me my mouth is otherwise occupied.

I have to admit that I hoped for this, but I didn't expect 
it.  Part of me is really, really glad about it, and is an 
eager participant.  I let my hands roam over Scully's body 
the way I've wanted to do for so long.  She's doing the same 
to me, and we barely pause to draw breath before we're 
kissing again.  

This isn't the way I wanted it to be.  I don't want Scully 
to think I only set this evening up as a means to an end, 
as much as I'm enjoying it.  I have to stop this before 
it gets out of hand.  I reluctantly pull away from Scully, 
and take her hands in mine.

"Hey, Scully," I say gently.  "Slow down a little.  The 
guys aren't charging by the hour."

To my surprise, Scully blushes and drops her hands.  I 
immediately regret my words, even more so when she pushes 
up off the sofa and walks away.

"I thought that this was what you wanted," Scully says.

"Huh?"  I say stupidly.

"You went to a lot of trouble, Mulder," she says, gesturing 
at the nicely set table, the flowers and the candles.  "You 
didn't really have to."

Scully obviously has her own ideas about what I'm doing.  
Suddenly this evening isn't about her any longer, it's all 
about me.  Again.  Dammit.

It's my turn to say something, but I'm having a little 
trouble regrouping here.  Scully helps me out.

"Mulder...why are you doing this?"

As usual, the part of me to recover fastest is my smartass 
reflex.  "Jeez, Scully," I mutter, unable to help myself.  
"I just wanted to fix you dinner."

Scully shakes her head, and I can see she's not going to 
accept this.  I see the barest hint of a smile.  "I know 
you, Mulder.  You have a larger agenda.  Out with it."

"Just what I said, Scully," I say.  "With everything that's 
happened, we've never really ... you know, gone out, had 
dinner, or anything."

"We have dinner together all the time.  We did before."  
She's standing, hands on her hips, in the same kind of 
argumentative pose I've seen so many times.

"Not just for the sake of going out," I say.  She's going 
to make me say it.  "You know, a date."

"A date."  She says it flatly, and I can't tell if she's 
happy about it or not.  "You want to go out on a date."

"Yeah, remember those?  I do, sort of.  Maybe I'm not doing 
it right, though?"

"Well," she says, "it's customary to ask the person you want 
to date first.  And you usually go *out* somewhere."

Oh man, she's mad at me.  I may be spending the night at 
the Gunmen with William if I'm not careful.  I open my 
mouth to apologize and Scully says,  "I'm not mad, Mulder.  
I just didn't expect this."

Whew.  I smile at her.  "Well, I'm a little rusty at this, 
so bear with me, okay?"  I dash into the kitchen and grab 
the wine and glasses.  As an afterthought, I turn off the 
oven, too.  Just in case.

I sit down next to her and pour the wine.  We raise our 
glasses and touch them together.  "To new beginnings," I say.

Scully nods.  "To our future," she adds.

Our future.  I do like the sound of that.  I wonder if it's 
too soon to give her the little speech I've been mulling 
over in my head.

Scully nudges me with her shoulder.  "Where are you, Mulder?"

I turn to smile at her.  "Just thinkin'."

"Are you going to share?"

I clear my throat.  It's now or never.  "Well, I was just 
wondering, if you could have everything the way you wanted, 
what would it be like?"

"What do you mean, Mulder?"  Scully asks cautiously.

"Sky's the limit, Scully.  Where would you live, what 
would you be doing, who would --"

"Mulder."  She holds up her hand.  "Is this what tonight's 
really all about?  Because I don't think I want to play 
this game."

"I'm not trying to upset you, Scully.  A long time ago, you 
asked me if I'd ever wanted a normal life.  Ever since then, 
I've wondered what that means to you."

"Why, Mulder?  So you can beat yourself up about how you've 
deprived me of what I most want?  I'm not going there with 
you, so you can just drop it right now."

"It's not such an impossible dream, is it, Scully?  Just 
tell me what you want.  If I can give you even a piece of 
it, I will.  I know I can't give it all to you, much as I 
wish I could."

"Mulder, please don't.  I'm not keeping a balance sheet, I 
never have.  We have a partnership.  We give and take, it's 
what we do.  Isn't that what a partnership is all about?  
You don't have to do anything."

I nod at her.  "Yes, I do.  You've given up so much to be 
here with me.  I want to give you something back.  Whatever 
you want, Scully.  Just tell me what it is."  It's such a 
pitifully small something, I think.  Let me do this for 
you.  "If there's something you want, even it seems trivial, 
could you let me know about it?  Now more than ever, we need 
to take care of each other, and William, too.  This is home, 
at least for now.  We should do whatever we can to make it 
ours."

Scully looks around the room.  The layout is different but it 
bears an uncanny resemblance to my apartment, right down to 
the fish tank, thanks to the guys, who approximated my 
furnishings as closely as they could.  I wish it looked 
more like Scully's.  Her place always looked more like 
home to me.

"We aren't going to be here forever, are we?"  she asks.

I shake my head.  "I'm not even sure for how long, Scully.  
We're safe, for now, but we'll have to plan for the future."

"I guess I don't want to get too attached to `things' again, 
Mulder," she says.  "I miss my apartment and the life I led, 
I won't lie to you.  But after you left, it seemed so hollow.  
William was the only thing that mattered to me.  That, and 
finding a way for us to be together again."

"That's good to hear," is all I can manage to say.

Scully sips her wine, not looking at me.  She's struggling 
with something, that much I can tell.  She's become totally 
serious.  "What I want ..." she starts, and her lips tremble 
a little.  "Someone else asked me that, not so long ago."

I want to ask who, but I keep my mouth shut for once.  This 
isn't easy for her, and I don't want to distract her with 
an outburst.

"I said, I want what I should want at this time of my life."  
She doesn't elaborate.  She doesn't have to.  "Please believe 
me when I tell you, Mulder, I have what I most want.  I do.  
Maybe not in a way that most people would understand it, but 
I do."

I wait.

"You've given me more than I ever dared hope for,"  she 
continues.  "You gave me hope when I had none left.  You 
gave me your faith, your belief.  You gave me courage and 
the strength to go on when I didn't think I could do it 
alone.  Most of all, you've given me a part of yourself.  
You gave me William."  The tears are streaking down her 
cheeks as she says this last part.  

I risk reaching over to brush the tears away with my thumb, 
and cup her cheek.  She leans into me and I continue to rub 
her cheek with my thumb lightly as she continues.

"What I'm trying to tell you, Mulder, is that the things I 
want are not set in stone, except for this:  my idea of home 
is where you and William are.  In a shack, in a tent, or in 
a cave, if it comes to that."

I can't help but smile a bit at the image of Scully in a cave, 
a la the Flintstones.  "I hope it won't, Scully.  But even if 
our stay here is brief, I want you to have whatever you need.  
I just don't want either of us to lose sight of what's 
important.  You're important to me, Scully, you and William.  
More than finding answers, more than anything.  You're why I 
want to find the answers.  Without you, there's no reason to 
do any of this."  I shrug a little and look at her.  "I wanted 
to make sure you know it, that's all."

Her eyes well up again.  "Mulder..." It's the same sweet tone 
she used when I gave her the doll, and I know I've said the 
right thing.  She puts her hand over mine.  "I do know it now, 
Mulder."

She knows it *now*?  I've been doing a piss-poor job of telling 
her how I feel, that's pretty obvious.

She adds,  "I just want you to know, I'm glad that you ... want 
me.  I was afraid maybe you didn't any more."

I'm dumbfounded at this.  "How could you think that?"

She can hardly meet my eyes.  "Well... you stay up all hours, 
you never come to bed until after I'm asleep..."  

I can hardly believe what I'm hearing, when I've spent so 
many nights beside her, wishing I dared wake her up...

"Scully, if it takes me the rest of my life to show you how 
much I want you, I'll do it.  I don't want to leave you any 
room for doubt."  I smile at her and add with a dramatic sigh,  
"Maybe it would have been better if I'd just let you jump my 
bones and have done with it."

Scully finally gives me a full-on smile in return.  "And then 
have you complain that I'm just keeping you around for sex?  
Nothing doing, Mulder."

Oh, this is nice.  I think I missed this more than the sex.  
Well, almost as much, anyway.

"Well, I don't want you to think I'm keeping you around just 
because you're good in the lab," I counter.  "C'mere, Scully."

She scoots over to me and I put my arm around her.  "Don't 
I get dinner first?"  she says.

"It'll keep," I say, nuzzling her neck.  "But this won't."

I pull her onto my lap, and set about showing her what I've 
been dreaming about since we've been apart.  Her lips part 
under mine and there's no doubt in my mind that the wanting 
and needing is mutual.  I'm going to make damned sure that 
Scully knows it, too.

x-x-x-x

Scully's still sleeping when I come back to the bedroom with 
breakfast.  I'd like to say I know she got a good night's 
sleep, but I'm prouder to say that she didn't.  Neither did 
I, but it's all about quality, not quantity.  And when we 
slept, we slept *good*.

I sit on the edge of the bed and watch her.  I'm trying to 
let her wake up on her own but my inner gentleman is already 
losing the battle.

I reach out and touch her foot through the blankets.  "Hey, 
Scully," I whisper loudly.  "You hungry?"  She certainly 
should be; a midnight snack of strawberries and whipped 
cream doesn't make much of a dinner.

"Mmmm," she says, and opens her eyes.  "Depends on what's 
for breakfast."

"All your favorites," I say.  "Bacon, eggs, and pancakes."

"Those sound like your favorites, Mulder."  She sits up, 
pulling the blankets around her in an adorable display of 
modesty.  I hand her my tee shirt to put on.  She looks
 better in it than I do, anyway.

In the next minute I see her fully wake up and kick into 
Mommy Mode.  "Where's William?  Is he home yet?  How is he?"

"I just talked to Byers.  He's fine, eating his breakfast 
right now.  They'll bring him over in an hour.  D'you want 
me to call and have them bring him back right now?"

Scully relaxes a little and shakes her head.  "I can't believe 
I didn't think of him immediately when I woke up."

"You did, Scully.  And I'm pretty proud that I can make you 
stop thinking about him for just a few minutes now and then."  
Scully rolls her eyes at me, but I think I see a hint of a 
smile, too.

If do anything for Scully that's anywhere close to what she 
does for me, she's lucky to remember her own name.

Besides, she's not the only one who has a hard time not 
thinking of William.  I called the guys late last night 
when I got up to get the strawberries.  Langly wasn't 
pleased, but Scully and I were reassured.

I'm already making plans for our next date night.

We sit side by side, eating our breakfast off of one plate.  
"How long has it been since we've taken any personal time, 
Mulder?"  Scully asks, snatching the last slice of bacon.

I grab at it and manage to break it in two.  "You mean, when 
we haven't been recovering from some injury?"

"Exactly."  She runs her fingers through the syrup on the 
plate and I grab her hand to lick them off.

"Too long to think about.  Years."  I can say exactly when 
I did, but it's not a memory I want to bring up.

"I think we need to play hooky today, Mulder,"  Scully says.  
"With William.  I think we need to pack a picnic lunch, and 
go outside and enjoy the fresh air, and stop thinking about 
things, just for a while."

Scully is finally telling me what she wants.  I'm not 
surprised to realize I want it, too.  A chance to be a 
family, at least for a little while.

"I've been thinking about what you said last night, Mulder, 
and I think you're right."

"I was?  What time?  Gotta make a note of that."

Scully hits me lightly on my knee.  "Be serious for just a 
minute, Mulder.  When you said we need to take care of each 
other.  You, and me, and William."  She rests her head on my 
shoulder.  "We're each other's family now."

I kiss the top of her head.  "Yes we are, Scully.  And we 
will take care of each other.  No matter what."

She looks up at me and her eyes are filled with trust and 
love.  I see myself reflected back in them, and William, 
too.

I'm so grateful that we're finally together.  No matter 
what's to come, we are stronger for it.  Scully and me, 
facing the future side by side.

And William makes three.

"Come on, Scully," I say, pulling her off the bed.  "I think 
we might have time for a shower before the guys bring William 
back home."

Scully raises her eyebrow.  "Together, Mulder?"

"Of course, Scully.  How else will we wash each other's 
backs?"

She tries not to laugh at this, and fails.

Gotcha, Scully.  Gotcha big time.

end.  

=====

"Never doubt that a small group of committed people can 
change the world; indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."
-Margaret Mead

=====
Author's Notes and Acknowledgments:

But first, a word from our sponsor:  This story took me a 
long time to write, and I'm pretty sure it's the longest one 
I've ever attempted.  I'd really like to know if you thought 
the time was worth it (or not, as the case may be).  Any and 
all comments appreciated at:
mailto: msnsc21@aol.com  
As you can see, I'm not too proud to beg <g>.

First of all, HUGE thanks to Mo for reading and encouragement 
when I was really floundering and doubting that I'd ever get 
this done.  Thanks, Mo!  Your encouragement was just what I 
needed.  You claim you're not a beta, but you do a great 
job!  Big hugs to you!

Another big acknowledgment is to the creative team of the 
X-Files and TenThirteen, whose stories I've watched unfold 
for lo these nine years. Thanks to everyone, from the Head 
Honcho to the actors, writers, directors, techies, and all.  
I'm going to miss you!

You might call this "mytharc lite," since I tried to 
integrate some of what's gone on over the years into the 
story, but didn't try to explain it all.  Any and all
errors or discrepancies are my own, no one to blame but 
me.  I did do research, and got my mind around the super 
soldier idea to the best of my abilities. I left a lot of 
loose threads, but you know that the story doesn't end at 
fade-out, right?  There may be more to come...

I used most of the same websites I acknowledged in "Abandoned," 
so I won't repeat them here, but I used a couple of other 
sites I'd like to mention.

www.uhaul.com.  I'm not kidding. There are links to some very 
interesting subjects.  I used the Iowa link to find out more 
about the Manson Crater.

www.amtrak.com.  I owe this story in some measure to a trip I 
made on Amtrak not long ago, so I want to acknowledge the 
inspiration, and of course use of their site to work out 
some timetables.

Just a plug for old train stations, and train travel in 
general.  Many of the larger cities not only use their 
train stations for transportation hubs (which I hope MY 
city will do), many of them have been beautifully restored 
and are a treat to wander around in.  Even if you're not 
fleeing across country, train travel is the way to go.  
Just make sure you've got plenty of time.

One last plug:  Kimpa has been kind enough to maintain a 
site for my stories and she even creates beautiful dust 
covers for many of them.  Stop by and see her site at
www.kimpart.com

Well!  Not only the longest story, but the longest notes 
I've ever written.  If you've gotten this far, thanks again 
for reading!

April 3, 2002.