From: "Teresa Bishop" <tbishop27@mindspring.com>
Date: Fri, 16 Feb 2001 06:33:04 -0800
Subject: xfc: FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND  by T Bishop (15 of 20) Rated R
Source: xfc

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND  -  part 15 of 20
By T Bishop




~CHAPTER 14~



Monday, June 19
Dukes County Courthouse
8:23 AM


"Ms. Scully!  Ms. Scully!"

"Dana!  Did they find Adam's body yet?"

"The FBI says they have your husband's written confession - what was
your reaction when you discovered he was the murderer?"

Scully pushed through a swarm of reporters gathered on the steps of
the courthouse, her mother and brother battling to keep up with her.
With the advent of summer, the island was packed with tourists and
part-time residents.  Word of Mulder's arraignment hearing had
sparked a media frenzy, and the spectacle drew quite a crowd of on-
lookers, adding to the insanity of it all.

It had been an excruciatingly long weekend.  Between the constant
phone calls, and the small but determined group of reporters who
decided to stakeout her house, Scully had been endlessly harassed -
until finally she got smart and made a call to their attorney.  He
arranged to have her number changed and threatened any reporter bold
enough to set foot on her property with arrest.

A reporter from People Magazine had ignored the threat and ambushed
Scully when she stepped out on the deck for a breath of air.  When
the woman refused to back off, Bill called the police and had her
hauled away if front of her jeering colleagues.  But all of that was
nothing compared to this scene.

"Ms. Scully, just one question!  Is it true your husband is also now
a suspect in the disappearance of his sister, over thirty-two years
ago?"

"Are you going to stand by him?"

"Do you believe in aliens too?"

"Ms. Scully!"

"Dana!  Tell us how you feel!  Dana!  Come on - you can't keep quiet
forever!  Why won't you tell us your side?"

One especially aggressive newsman grabbed hold of Scully's arm,
refusing to let go.  He pulled her to the side, where a dozen
microphones where instantly thrust in her face, bright camera flashes
blinding her as questions were fired, one after another, in rapid
succession.

"Were you and the child victims of domestic violence?"

"Were you afraid for your own life?"

"Where were you when your son was being murdered?"

"Is it true you lied to the police to protect your husband?"

"Why do they call him 'Spooky'?"

"Ms. Scully, tell us what you're going through!"

"Do you think the aliens are controlling your husband's mind?  Does
he believe the aliens told him to do it?"

"There's a rumor your husband has been under the care of a
psychiatrist - can you confirm this?"

"Can you give us details of how the child was murdered?  What did
your husband do with the body?"

Heart pounding, Scully struggled to extricate herself from the iron
grip of the pushy reporter - in the process, stumbling backwards and
nearly falling down the steps.  Bill caught her just in the nick of
time, handing her off to two police officers, who quickly ushered
Scully and her mother up the remaining steps to the courthouse.  In
the background, Scully could hear Bill raising hell with the reporter
who had accosted her.

"Listen, you son of a bitch - if you ever lay a hand on my sister
again, I'm PERSONALLY going to see to it that you live just long
enough to regret it!  AND THE REST OF YOU... YOU PEOPLE BETTER BACK
OFF!  DO YOU UNDERSTAND?  MY SISTER IS GOING THROUGH ENOUGH RIGHT
NOW!  SHE HAS NO COMMENT TO ANY OF YOUR QUESTIONS!  I WANT YOU TO
LEAVE HER THE HELL ALONE!  HAVE I MADE MYSELF CLEAR?"

'Get 'em, Bill!'  Scully thought to herself, having a hard time
resisting just a little smile.  For all his pain-in-the-ass-over-
protectiveness, it was sometimes nice to have a big brother around.

Once they were safely inside the building Maggie Scully turned
pleading eyes to her police escort and asked, "Officer, would you be
good enough to go back out there and get my son before someone gets
hurt."




*  *  *  *



"All rise.  The Honorable Judge Elizabeth Bateman now presiding."

As an actress, Liddy's mother had always suffered terrible pre-
performance jitters, but claimed the minute she stepped out on stage
the anxiety left her, and she became the character she was
portraying.  While Liddy certainly didn't consider herself a thespian
- in fact, the very thought appalled her beyond belief - she did
understand that a certain amount of strength could be taken from the
roles in which one found themselves.  When she donned judicial robes
and took her place in the courtroom's presiding chair, she
experienced a reassuring sense of control over her life.

Control.  Order.  Routine.  These things were as addictive as drugs
to a woman who had grown up in the unbearable situation of her
mother's vagabond, show business lifestyle.  Just eight years old
when her parents divorced, sentencing her to spend the next ten years
a prisoner of her mother's 'career' - Liddy grew to hate being
dragged around from city to city without any real place to call home.
Her father, an appellate judge, had been the only stabilizing force
in Elizabeth's young world.  And her admiration for him was no small
part of why she had chosen to go to law school.  In her adult life,
she craved the reassurance of predictability, having everything in
its proper place.  With HER hand resting on the gavel, in a courtroom
where SHE dictated the course, Liddy could ultimately have the
control her childhood had lacked.

Judge Bateman took her seat above the small gathering for her first
case of the day.  This was going to be a big one - possibly THE
BIGGEST case she had ever presided over in the thirteen years she'd
been on the bench.  The press was all over this case - a rather
famous and well-off FBI agent charged with the premeditated murder of
his own son.  Like it or not, they'd all be celebrities before this
was through.

"Thank you, Henry," Liddy remarked to her bailiff, slipping on her
reading glasses to look over the papers in front of her.  After a
minute, she folded her hands neatly atop the docket file and
addressed the courtroom.  "Well, ladies and gentlemen, it looks like
we're starting the day off with the main event.  I don't believe I've
ever witnessed such a media circus on the steps of our humble little
courthouse before today.  It's just as well that we get this case out
of the way first, so the rest of the day's business can be attended
to without complication."  She adjusted her glasses and read the
formal introduction into the record.  "We're here today for the bond
hearing in case number CR20-101393, the Commonwealth of Massachusetts
vs. Fox William Mulder."  She glanced up at the Defense Counsel.  "Is
the defendant present?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

Liddy knew the man who stood up to reply, by reputation only; Yerman
Kennedy - a big time, hotshot defense attorney who practiced out of
Washington DC.  Mid-forties, tall and good looking, with a powerful
presence, Kennedy would be a charming influence with the jury when
this case went to trial.

Continuing with procedure, Liddy requested the roll call.  "Would
each of you state your name for the record?  Starting with you, Mr.
Janeski."  She eyed the young prosecutor, who immediately drew
himself to his full five-foot-two height.

"Daniel Janeski, Prosecuting Attorney for the Commonwealth of
Massachusetts."

The equally young blonde man sitting beside Janeski stood and
reported, "Carl Hutchinson, Assistant Prosecuting Attorney for the
Commonwealth of Massachusetts."

The roll call continued... "Yerman Kennedy, Counsel for the Defense."

"Fox William Mulder."

Liddy studied the defendant.  He was a very attractive man.  This,
too, would influence the jury.  Kennedy would be sure to exploit it.
Juries were made up of humans, with societal biases... and it was an
undisputed fact that attractive people provoke a more positive
response.  Between Defense Counsel's talent and charisma, and the
defendant's leading-man good looks, Daniel was going to have his work
cut out for him prosecuting this case.

The judge noted how one woman in the audience kept a worried vigil
on the defendant.  A petite redhead with crystalline blue eyes, which
she kept locked on the handsome man in the Armani suit.  Wife - had
to be.  The poor woman must be about at her wit's end, Liddy thought
with sympathy.  She's lost her son, and her husband stands accused of
his murder.  What a nightmare.  She must be desperate to make sense
of it all, and to fight to hold on to what's left of her family...
That probably explained the phone call.

"Michael Ruben, Assistant Defense Counsel."  The sharply dressed
black man drew Liddy's attention back to the proceedings.

The judge gave her concentration to Kennedy, who was clearly
impatient to speak, rolling a pencil back and forth between large,
eager hands.  She granted him permission to present his case for
bond.  "Mr. Kennedy, if you would begin please."

Adjusting his expensive suit jacket as he stood, the prominent
defense attorney cleared his throat to start his oratory.  "Your
Honor, the defense team acknowledges the seriousness of the crime of
which my client Fox Mulder has been accused.  However, as you can see-
"  He gestured toward the pile of documentation that had been filed
on behalf of his client.  "Mr. Mulder is an 18-year veteran with the
Federal Bureau of Investigation, and has an exemplary employment
history.  He's been a stable and contributing citizen of this
community for several years, and holds no prior criminal record
whatsoever."  Defense Counsel turned to regard the redheaded woman
seated in the next row back.  "Additionally, Mr. Mulder is married to
an UPSTANDING member of this community, who, herself, is a highly
regarded, federal law enforcement agent - DOCTOR Dana Scully."  The
defendant's wife managed a tight-lipped smile in reaction to such
blatantly obsequious praise, and the older woman accompanying her
reached over, squeezing her hand with an obvious measure of pride.

Mother, Liddy figured; at least she 'looks' the part.

Kennedy paused a moment, turning back to face the judge as he
concluded, "The defendant is a stable, married professional, posing
no risk of flight.  I therefore respectfully request that Fox Mulder
be released on his own recognizance."

Well, that was bold as hell!  Considering that she had only
grudgingly agreed to hear a plea for bond in this case, Defense
Counsel had real balls to request that a man facing the charge of
Murder One be released on his own recognizance!  Just what kind of
backwater judge did this Kennedy fellow think he was dealing with?

Liddy tried her best not to be too insulted as she watched the gutsy
attorney return to his seat.  Checking her indignation, she addressed
the prosecution in a controlled voice.  "Mr. Janeski, if the
Prosecution has any comments to make, you may proceed at this time."

The jockey-sized attorney - who one could think of as either
energetic or hyper, depending on one's tolerance for such antsy
behavior - made a point of pacing in front of the bench as he spoke.
"Your Honor, the reason the defendant is here today is because he is
accused of one of the most brutal and heinous crimes one can commit.
Fox Mulder is a cold-blooded killer.  With premeditation, he murdered
his five-year-old son, Adam Mulder-"

Yerman Kennedy wasted no time jumping to his feet. "Objection, Your
Honor!  This is a bond hearing, not a trial!  Mr. Janeski's
statements are prejudicial and I demand that his remarks be stricken
from the record!"

Liddy frowned.  "Sustained."  Normally she would have blasted
Defense Counsel for his breach of protocol - objecting during an
arraignment hearing - but Daniel deserved to be slapped down for
trying something like that in her courtroom.  She didn't care how
much media attention this case received, she was not going to be
party to an over-dramatized, made for TV spectacle like the OJ trial
had been.  "Mr. Janeski, I'm warning you to limit your arguments to
the purpose and scope of this hearing."

"Yes, Your Honor," Janeski replied, managing to sound contrite.

She gave him a stern look of warning over the top of her glasses.
"You may continue."

Taking a less antagonistic approach, the diminutive man resumed
pacing as he began his argument again.  "The accused stands before us
today charged with murder in the first degree, of his OWN SON... Due
to the shocking nature and events surrounding this case, as well as
the EXPERT psychiatric opinions giving evidence to Mr. Mulder's
former and current mental state, The Commonwealth STRONGLY urges The
Court to deny bond to the defendant.  Fox Mulder is an unstable,
unpredictable individual who poses a potential danger to the
community.  Therefore, under Massachusetts General Law, chapter 123,
The Commonwealth asks that Mr. Mulder be placed in the custody of
Bridgewater State Hospital for a court ordered psychiatric
evaluation."

Kennedy's exasperated "Objection!" boomed out across the courtroom.

Un uh.  I let you get away with it once, mister, but not this time.
"Mr. Kennedy, as you yourself pointed out a few moments ago, this is
NOT a trial.  Nor do you have any cause for objection.  Your
objection is therefore overruled."  Liddy banged her gavel for
emphasis.  "The Prosecution shall proceed."

Defense Counsel refused to take his seat.  "But, Your Honor, Mr.
Janeski is-"

"The Commonwealth is allowed to make its case, Mr. Kennedy!" Janeski
shot back, interrupting his adversary before the judge could
intervene.

Banging her gavel again, Liddy quieted them before any further chaos
ensued.  What the hell did these two think they were doing?
Determined to put a screeching halt to their antics, she issued a
pronouncement.  "All right, I can see where we're heading.  At this
time we will take a ten-minute recess.  I would like to see both
counsel in my chambers... IMMEDIATELY."



*  *  *  *



Elizabeth Bateman read the two men that stood before her the riot
act.  "Gentlemen, I realize this is a high profile case - believe me -
but I am not going to have a simple arraignment proceeding turned
into an all day fiasco."  She turned an icy stare on Mr. Big-Time-
Washington-DC-Lawyer.  "Mr. Kennedy, the defense had its turn to
present argument on behalf of your client.  The Prosecution is
entitled to argue its case for the record as well."  Next she fixed
Janeski with a look of irritation.  "And Daniel - honestly, you know
better than to pull these kind of theatrics in my courtroom!"
Seating herself behind her desk, Liddy crossed her arms over her
chest and sighed.  "If you boys want to fight this thing out, roll up
your sleeves and let's get it over with here and now."

Janeski's incredulous laugh was nothing short of theatrical.
"Liddy, Defense Counsel is portraying this maniac Fox Mulder as if he
were a pillar of the community!"

"Which he is," Kennedy scowled, doubly put off by the familiarity
between Judge and Prosecutor, and the insulting remark about his
client.

"Oh, for Christ sake, the man believes in aliens!"  Janeski hooted.

Kennedy shrugged.  "So do a lot of other people, that doesn't make
them the menace to society you're trying to portray my client to be."

Liddy watched the verbal sparring match with interest; thinking what
a headache it was going to be keeping these two in line when the
trial began.

"He's admitted to the premeditated murder of his own son!" Janeski
could barely contain himself, all but hopping up and down as he tried
to win the point.

"No, he hasn't," Defense Counsel countered, quite matter-of-factly.

Janeski's eyes went wide.  "What do you call his journal confession?"

"I call it circumstantial," Kennedy stated flatly; not riled in the
least, despite the other attorney's zeal.

It was like watching a Pit Bull and a Chihuahua, Liddy mused, with
an inward smirk.

The younger attorney threw his arms up in the air, turning a
complete circle in dramatic fashion.  "OH, COME ON!  I suppose next
you're going to claim the murder weapon, COVERED with your client's
fingerprints, is circumstantial too!"

"We have no proof that there's even been a murder."

Liddy bit back a grin.  Kennedy's point, made with a sly twinkle in
his eye, left her wondering if he was actually going to try using
such a defense when the case came to trial... or if he was just
messing with his opponent's mind a little.  She'd have a hell of a
lot more respect for him if it were the latter.

"I don't believe this!"  Janeski choked, shaking his head as he
looked to the judge for sympathy.  He found none.

"Gentlemen, this bickering, while amusing, is really a waste of my
time.  I've let you get some of it out of your systems now because I
don't want to see any more of it in my courtroom."  She breathed a
heavy sigh, far too weary for so early in the day.  "I'm prepared to
give my ruling on this matter, but I have one more issue that I wish
to attend to first.  I would like to speak with Mr. Mulder's wife,
privately - if neither of you has an objection to that?"

The two attorneys glanced suspiciously at one another, wondering
what in the hell she was up to.

Liddy didn't bother waiting for either of them to launch a protest.
"Good, then it's settled."  She motioned for her bailiff who stood
guard at the door.  When he came near, she whispered, "Henry, would
you get these two the hell out of here?  And please ask the
defendant's wife if she would step into my chambers for a moment."



*  *  *  *

(To be continued...)


FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND  -  part 16 of 20
By T Bishop



*  *  *  *




Being summoned to the judge's chambers had Scully more than a little
concerned.  She had no idea what happened after Kennedy and Janeski
left the courtroom, but she hoped it didn't have anything to do with
Mulder being committed to Bridgewater.  With all her other worries,
she failed to consider the possibility that the Prosecution might
press to have Mulder institutionalized until the trial.  As she
entered the elegantly appointed office, Scully prepared herself for a
fight; refusing to see her husband locked up in a psychiatric
hospital after everything else he'd been through.

"Dr. Scully, would you have a seat please?"  The judge looked up
from her reading and gestured to a chair.

Hoping she didn't look as nervous as she felt, Scully perched
herself on the edge of a leather upholstered wingback and casually
crossed her legs, reminding herself to breathe slowly - in and out.

"I realize this is unusual," the judge began, taking off her glasses
for informality sake.  "But before I make my ruling, I would like to
have a few words with you."

"About, Your Honor?"  Scully swallowed tightly.

"I want to emphasize first that what we're discussing here is
completely off the record."

"I understand."  Unsure where this conversation was headed, Scully
made a snap decision to take the lead.  She put a hand up to stop the
judge from going any further.  "That being the case, may I say
something?"

The other woman eased back in her chair, giving Scully her full
attention.  "Certainly."

"My husband has long been the subject of controversy because of his
beliefs and the fact that he chooses to stand by them.  I have no
doubt that if the Prosecution wanted to do so, it could bring in a
parade of witnesses who would happily malign my husband's character
based on nothing more than their personal prejudices."  Scully
cleared her tight throat again and continued; fearful this desperate
plea was Mulder's only hope of being released.  "But I have spent the
last 13 years partnered with Fox Mulder, as a federal agent and as
his wife.  I've put my life in his hands day after day, trusting him
implicitly, because of what I know of him.  There is no question in
my mind of his sanity.  And I can personally assure you that he is in
no way a threat to society."  Scully paused, taking a deep breath
before she went on.  "I have all the confidence in the world that he
will be acquitted of the crime of which he is charged.  Fox Mulder is
a victim, not a criminal.  Because of his commitment to the truth, he
has garnered some very powerful enemies."

"He has powerful friends, too, it would seem," the judge retorted,
narrowing her gaze on Scully.  "I called you in here because I
received a phone call on Friday afternoon from Capital Hill, from a
prominent figure speaking on your husband's behalf.  You wouldn't
happen to know anything about this, would you, Dr. Scully?"

Shit.  Now she understood what this was about.  Just before leaving
DC Friday morning, Scully had made a quick trip to the office of a
certain senator who owed her and Mulder a favor.  She hadn't expected
him to reveal that she'd spoken with him, only that he would put in a
good word for Mulder with Judge Bateman - who just happened to be an
old law school classmate.  Scully had hesitated to ask him for such a
favor, but their attorney had confided to her that it was going to
take a small miracle to get a bond hearing in a first degree murder
case.  Having given up on divine intervention, she'd attempted to
play God herself.  And up until this moment, she'd figured it worked.
Damn it, anyway... her meddling may have just made things worse.

Avoiding the judge's accusing stare, Scully likewise tried to skirt
the question.  "He's NOT a danger to anyone, including himself.
Being locked in a jail cell or a mental ward, for weeks or months,
until such time as he stands trial, is cruel and unusual punishment
for an innocent man - especially one whose son has just been taken
from him."

"That may be, Dr. Scully, but the laws of this country are written
to mete out equal justice to all citizens.  Not just those who can
afford to buy influence, or who have connections in high places.  I
don't appreciate being pressured to render a decision one way or
another on this or any case.  And I'll tell you the same thing I told
your FRIEND in Washington.  My father sat on the bench for more than
forty years before he died, and of all the advice he could have given
me when I became a judge, there was only one piece of knowledge he
chose to impart.  He said, 'Liddy, you must always remember,
conscience is the chamber of justice.'  Since I am the judge assigned
to hear this case, it is in MY conscience where this verdict must
ultimately be decided.  I am not for sale, Dr. Scully, nor will I be
intimidated.  Having said that, I want you to know that the ONLY
reason I agreed to listen to an appeal for bond in a first-degree
murder case was because of letters filed 'legally' with this court
from many individuals at the FBI testifying to your husband's
strength of character.  I wouldn't exactly call it a campaign, but
certainly he is respected enough amongst his colleagues that a good
many wanted to go on record in support of him."

Scully sat stunned.  'Spooky' Mulder respected amongst his
colleagues at the Bureau?  She hadn't the slightest clue what, or
who, was behind this, but she was grateful all the same.

"In the future, Dr. Scully, please take into consideration that any
attempts to influence this court illegally will result in charges
being filed against ALL parties responsible.  Whether he is innocent
or guilty, I assure you, your husband will find justice in my
courtroom."

Scully's reply was a soft-spoken and obedient "Yes, Your Honor."

Replacing her glasses, the judge stood, abruptly ending the
conversation.  "Now... I've got a full docket today and I'm ready to
make my ruling on this matter."




*  *  *  *



Mulder's worried eyes locked with his wife's, questioning her
silently as she reentered the courtroom and returned to her seat.
However, there was no time for her to reply, as the judge took her
place before the assemblage, the bailiff once again calling the
session to order.  Scully could only give his arm a supportive
squeeze.  Mulder reached up to grasp her cold fingers; drawing what
strength he could from the simple contact.

"Will the defendant please rise?"

Letting go of Scully's hand, Mulder stood to face his fate.

Judge Bateman gave him a grave look.  "Mr. Mulder, the purpose of
this hearing is to grant or deny bail for your release.  I am not
here today to try your innocence or guilt.  I've read over all the
documents from the FBI, including letters from Director Clarke and
Assistant Director Walter Skinner, and an especially compelling
letter from a former colleague of yours - Special Agent John Doggett;
and it is because of these statements, as well as other letters
testifying to your good character, that I'm reluctantly granting your
release."

Mulder heard Scully's tiny joyful gasp as relief washed over him.
His lawyer patted him on the back in congratulations, but the judge
was quick to put a damper on the victory celebration.

"HOWEVER... I wish to stress the seriousness of the crime of which
you have been charged.  I am therefore setting bail at 1.5 million
dollars, cash - no bond."

"Jesus Christ!" Bill Scully's exclamation won him a censorious frown
from the judge, and an elbow in the gut from his mother.

Calming the general clamor in the courtroom with three sharp taps of
her gavel, the judge went on with her decree.  "AND... You will
remain under house arrest pending trial; compliance will be monitored
electronically.  This Court hereby orders your release upon payment
of bail, and subjects you to all requirements set forth by my bail
order.  This matter stands adjourned."





*  *  *  *



~CHAPTER 15~


327 Tisbury Lane
Martha's Vineyard
Monday, June 19, 2006
Late afternoon


Seated on the floor in a room where toy dinosaurs battled spacemen,
a regatta of tiny sailboats lined the windowsill, and the top of a
tightly packed bookshelf had been designated a Star Wars shrine,
Mulder took in all the treasures of a little boy whose life had been
fated since the moment he was conceived.  Adam had been predestined
to fall victim, one way or another, because of who he was.

Fox Mulder's son.

But, was it possible that the greatest threat to this unfortunate
child had been his own father?  Mulder's training as a behavioral
psychologist could not allow him to rule out the possibility.  As
always, Scully was there to keep him honest, insisting on undeniable
proof before she would acknowledge the validity of his theory.  He
was grateful for her allegiance at a time when doubt cast a grim
shadow over everything else in his world.  Her faith and commitment
brought the only glimmer of hope to the darkness that held him
hostage.

Mulder missed Adam so badly he could scarcely breathe through the
pain.  He wanted to believe, like Scully, that Adam was still alive;
that one day they would find him again.  But he could no longer see
his way through the murky depths of his grief and despair.

Picking up his son's beloved basketball, Mulder hugged it to his
chest, staring absently ahead; sinking further and further into the
nadir of his guilty conscience...


Sometime later, Bill Scully's frosty voice sifted into Mulder's
awareness.  "Dana finally fell asleep.  I don't have the heart to
wake her.  Mom wanted you to know... dinner's almost ready."

Wiping the dampness from his face, Mulder drew an unsteady breath
and acknowledged his brother-in-law with a nod.

Never one to pass up an opportunity to speak his mind, Bill took
advantage of the rare moment to have words with Mulder, without his
sister or mother around to come to his defense.  He stepped into the
room, closer to his intended prey.  "I know you know I was against
you marrying my sister from the very beginning."  He snorted.  "Hell,
Tara had to practically hold a gun to my head to get me to attend the
wedding...  You've been trouble since the first day Dana met you,
Mulder.  When I think of all she's suffered through because of
you..."  He shook his head - disgusted.

"If you're trying to persuade me to kill myself, I think you should
know I've already considered the option and ruled it out.  I'd only
end up hurting Dana more."

Bill gave a contemptuous grunt.  "You're really pathetic, Mulder.
I'll never understand what she sees in you."

"Finally, something we can agree on.  I've never understood it
myself.  Of course, it escapes my comprehension what a lovely woman
like Tara is doing with the likes of you, too.  I guess some things
will always remain mysteries."

"I'll have you know, I'm a DAMN good husband and father."

"Inferring that I'm not?"

"It takes more than money to provide a good home," Bill shot back.
"My sister's been trying to make a decent life.  You, you're still
chasing your little green men."

Mulder was tired.  And he was in no mood for Bill's incriminations.
"Do you think we could save this conversation for later?"  His gaze
shifted to the monitoring device strapped to his ankle, and he
sighed.  "It's not like I'm going anywhere for the next few months."

"If I had my way, Dana would have left your sorry ass to rot in
jail... or even better, in that loony-bin where maniacs like you
belong."

Mulder looked his brother-in-law straight in the eyes.  "You think I
did it, don't you?"

There was a long pause in which Bill seemed to consider the
question.  For a fleeting second Mulder thought he saw indecision
diminish the cynical expression of the other man.  Nevertheless, Bill
was quick to dismiss any hope of compassion with his cutting retort.

"Haven't heard you deny it."

Bill's hard stare challenged Mulder to fight back.  But when no
response appeared imminent, he shook his head at the pitiable excuse
for a man who sat on the floor before him, and then walked out of the
room.




*  *  *  *

(To be continued...)


FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND  -  part 17 of 20
By T Bishop


*  *  *  *



Mulder and Scully's residence
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
6:33 AM


"Dana, honey?"  Margaret Scully gently nudged her daughter awake.

Scully squinted into the bright morning light of the bedroom, and
was greeted by her mother's loving face.  "Mmm... Mom - what time is
it?"  As her mind strained to focus, she felt the comforting arm of
her husband fitted snugly around her waist.  Even in her sleep she'd
been conscious of his presence, his body wrapped protectively and
possessively around hers all night long.

"It's six thirty.  I'm sorry to wake you, sweetheart, but there are
three very... INTERESTING gentlemen downstairs.  Mr. Byers, Mr.
Langly, and Mr. Frohike.  They claim they're acquaintances of yours?"

A tiny smile formed on Scully's lips at her mother's visible
apprehension.  "It's okay, Mom.  They're friends.  Would you please
tell them Mulder and I will be down in a minute."

Resigned, Maggie nodded.  "There's coffee ready."

"Great.  Thanks, Mom." 

"You know I've always been an early riser.  An old habit from your
father's military days.  Can't seem to let it go.  Billy was up too,
so I started breakfast."  Maggie's eyes took in her sleeping son-in-
law snuggled up behind her daughter, her expression reflecting the
worry in her heart.  "I guess I'd better get down there and let your
brother know it's safe to allow your friends inside."


*  *  *  *  *


When Byers delivered the good news, Scully kissed him square on the
mouth for his effort.

"Hey!" Frohike protested, "I did all the work!  How about some lip
action for the hero over here?"

Mulder made a teasing move toward his stout little friend, lips
pursed.  

Appalled, Frohike took a quick step backwards to dodge the other
man's advance.  "Kiss me and die, smart ass."

"Frohike, I'm hurt," Mulder feigned, his eyes twinkling with
mischief, enjoying his momentary comedic status and the laughter it
produced.

"Yeah, you will be if you bring that pucker near me again any time
soon."

"So let me see if I'm following this," Bill piped in, putting an end
to the foolery.  "You guys hacked your way into Mulder's computer,
and found proof that his journal had been tampered with?"

"Well, technically it's not hacking.  We had the computer, Mulder's
password, and permission to access the files," Byers explained.  "We
discovered that some of the most recent journal entries had been
modified; but any reference to when these changes were made had been
purged from the system.  So, we dug a little deeper and were able to
ascertain that the command to purge had been given on Wednesday, June
14, 2006."

"Two-thirty AM Eastern Time," Langly added.

"Which means, whoever tapped into those files, had just enough time
to have accessed Dr. Kern's report, giving them plenty of personal
information with which to frame Mulder when they changed the entry to
his journal," Scully concluded.  Finally, proof undeniable that her
faith in her husband was warranted.

"Wait a minute," Bill frowned.  "Mulder's computer was confiscated
as evidence?  How did you three manage to get your hands on it?"

"The lady with the light fingers lifted it for us," Langly answered
back, bestowing a big grin on Scully.

Bill flung a disapproving scowl at his sister.  "Did you stop to
think that theft of evidence, besides being against the law, happens
to make said evidence inadmissible in court?  Now that your three
buddies have been monkeying around with Mulder's laptop, how are you
going to prove to a judge that they didn't just pull some geek hocus
pocus to help out their friend?"  

That sobered the whole group.  

"Working for the Justice Department, Dana, I would have thought
you'd take the law into consideration in the course of an
investigation."  

Scully rolled her eyes at her brother's admonishment, her cheeks
becoming hot as her Irish temper spiked.  What pissed her off the
most about Bill's comment was the simple fact that he was right.  She
had let emotion cloud her commonsense - but she'd been desperate. 

"There's got to be some way to prove Mulder didn't kill Adam,"
Frohike groused, scratching his balding head as he considered his own
words.

"Sure, we find out who did."  Byers replied without thinking.

"Adam's not dead," Scully corrected him instantly.

"Way to go, doofus," Frohike razzed his red-faced friend. 

"Dana, I -" he tried to apologize but she waved it off.

"The truth is, someone went through a lot of trouble to make us
think so... and to pin the blame on Mulder.  But if Adam really were
dead, they would have left a body to confirm it."

"She's right," Mulder agreed, slipping an arm around his wife's
shoulders in support.   

Maggie Scully had been quiet for a long time, standing off by
herself and listening thoughtfully to the others' conversation.  Now
she approached the group, heading directly to Mulder, wearing a
contrite expression, her eyes tearful with remorse.  "I want to
apologize to you, Fox.  I'm ashamed of myself for it, but I didn't
have my daughter's faith in you.  I hope you can forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive, Mom.  Really.  You have no reason to
feel bad.  I found the evidence just as hard to discount."  He rarely
called her Mom, but Mulder knew the utterance of that title, more
than anything he could say, would convey to Margaret Scully her good
standing in his heart.

Stretching up on her tiptoes, Maggie gave her son-in-law a grateful
kiss on the cheek.  "My baby girl's lucky to have you, Fox."  She
began to pull away and then froze, remembering something out of the
blue.  "Oh- you know... I'm not sure if this will be helpful, but I
saw camera equipment mounted on top of the house that's being worked
on next door."

"That's the Chadwick's.  They just started a renovation project." 
Scully was heading toward the window as she spoke.  "I didn't notice
surveillance equipment..."  

"They probably have a security company monitoring the grounds,"
Mulder speculated, following fast on his wife's heels.  "If the
cameras were there last week, we might get lucky."




*  *  *  *  *
 



Identifying herself as an FBI agent, Scully was able to obtain the
cooperation of the security company without much of a battle; less
than two hours later, a package of DVDs was delivered by courier from
Watchdog Inc.  Langly immediately cued up the disk for June 14. 
Everyone held their breath as the first images were displayed on the
computer monitor.  But after just a few minutes of high-speed
playback, the atmosphere in Mulder's den became weighted with
disappointment.

"Damn it," Scully cursed, voicing the unspoken consensus of the
group.  "The shots aren't wide enough, and the sweep is too tight. 
They've barely caught any of our property at all."

The screen was a four-way split, showing simultaneous views from all
sides of the neighbor's house.  

"They're not even monitoring the street," Frohike grumbled. 
"Amateurs.  Someone needs to teach the people at Watchdog Inc. how
it's supposed to be done."

Giving off a huge sigh, Mulder slumped back in his seat.  "Well, it
was worth a try anyway."  He exchanged frustrated looks with Scully
who was perched beside him on the arm of his desk chair.  She reached
over and stroked her fingers through his hair; a sympathetic gesture
that did not go unappreciated in Mulder's heart.

"Wait!  Hold on.  Go back," Bill ordered, his eyes squinting to more
intently scrutinize the video feeds.

Langly reversed the playback immediately - everyone's attention
glued to the monitor.

"Stop!" Bill barked, and when the Gunman complied, he pointed out
something in the upper right-hand box.  "What's that?"  

The camera picked up only the far corner of Mulder and Scully's
backyard, but it gave a partial view of the shed by Adam's garden. 
In the darkness, a figure could be seen just briefly, entering and
then exiting the shed.  But the combined factors of distance and low
light made the image very shadowy and extremely difficult to make
out.  If it hadn't been for Bill's eagle vision, no one would have
noticed the trespasser's brief cameo appearance. 

"Can you enhance the image a little, Langly?" Mulder asked, sliding
to the edge of his chair to study the picture more closely.

"I'll try."  Langly's nimble fingers tapped at the keyboard and a
full screen view of camera three replaced the divided format.  A few
more strokes of the keys and he'd zoomed in on the shed.  Then he
sharpened the focus as much as he could.

"Dana, isn't that the man I saw kissing you at the airport?" Bill
asked, with a quick sideways glance to witness his brother-in-law's
reaction.

"Scully?"  Mulder's eyes demanded an explanation from his wife, but
she ignored his question entirely.  

"I'm gonna kill him!" Scully raged, staring at the likeness of Alex
Krycek as he exited the garden shed with a small bundle tucked under
one arm and Mulder's fishing knife clutched in a gloved hand.

"Excuse me, Scully?" Mulder tried again to get her attention.  

"He's been playing us all along!" She fumed, her cheeks darkening in
anger.

"Humor me, Scully," Mulder pleaded, unable to shake the grip of
jealousy - even though deep down he knew better. 

She finally took pity.  "Right before we boarded our flight Friday
morning, Krycek showed up at the airport.  He told me he just wanted
to express his condolences."

Frohike helped Mulder out.  "Ahem... You skipped the part about the
locked lips and dueling tongues?"

"Thank you, Frohike," Mulder told his friend sincerely.

Scully's eyes narrowed at her troublemaker brother.  "It was a kiss
on the cheek," she made very clear.

"Figures," Frohike quipped, let down.

Leaving Bill with one last dirty look, Scully returned her attention
to her husband.  "I KNEW Krycek was acting strange.  Even for him."  

"He was all over her."  The eldest Scully sibling baited his brother-
in-law, unable to resist the opportunity to have just a tad more fun
at Mulder's expense. 

"Would you please stop!" Scully snapped at him angrily.  Damn it,
Bill could be a real pain in the ass sometimes - make that MOST of
the time.

The wicked grin on Bill Scully's face faded quickly as he fell
victim to his mother's censorious stare.  He cleared his throat and
looked down, developing a sudden and very keen interest in his shoes.

Mulder got up from his chair, unable to sit still any longer.  "All
right, so now we know that this is Krycek's game.  I should have
figured as much.  Nefarious to the end.  And when I get my hands on
him his end won't be long in coming."

A sense of dread brought Scully to her feet as well.  "I hope you
don't think you're going to go after him, Mulder."

"Just try and stop me," he challenged her.

"Mulder, you CAN'T. The court has ordered that you stay here, and
here is where you're going to stay," Scully argued.  "I'll fly back
to DC and find our friend Krycek."

Mulder was adamant.  "Not without me you're not."

Scully stood toe to toe with her husband.  "Do I have to remind you
that I just posted a million and a half dollars of our money
guaranteeing you'd follow the Court's directives?"

"I don't give a damn about the money, Scully!  They can take every
last cent we've got!  All I care about right now is finding that
duplicitous little weasel and squeezing him until he pops!"  Mulder's
fists clenched tight as he thought about all the trouble Krycek had
caused in his life.  He wanted to kill him - pound him to a bloody
pulp with his bare hands.  He should have done it years ago.

"I want vengeance as much as you do, Mulder, but our first priority
has to be Adam's safe return," Scully reminded him.

"Agreed."  Mulder nodded, making an honest effort to bring down to a
low simmer the outrage that was boiling inside him.  "But you can't
expect me to just sit around here and do nothing."

"Why don't you just go to the police and show them the surveillance
video?" Bill butted in.  "The state will drop the charges and the
authorities will go after this guy - Krycek."

Husband and wife exchanged knowing looks.

"It's not that simple," Mulder explained.  "If Krycek finds out
we're on to him, he'll disappear and we'll never find Adam.  Our best
chance of catching him is to let him think his scheme is working."

Scully was in complete agreement.  "And that's why you're staying
here, Mulder.  You jump bail and there will be a bench warrant out
for you and a massive manhunt underway.  If Krycek caught wind of
that, he'd disappear into the woodwork before we could ever hope to
catch up to him.  And then we'd never find Adam."

"But, Scully-" Mulder renewed his protest, but she wouldn't hear
anymore.

"No, Mulder.  No.  N. O."  She was very firm in her insistence. 
Scully's face had become a cold mask of resolve.

However, Fox Mulder was not one to be easily dissuaded either.  "We
don't know who he's working with this time, Scully.  You can't go
after him alone.  It's too dangerous.  You need me to watch your
back."

Maggie reached out to put a worried hand on her daughter's arm, as
if she could physically stop her from attempting such a risk.  "Dana,
honey, Fox is right.  You can't go alone."  Her anxious eyes begged
Dana to listen.

"I'll be okay, Mom."  Scully spoke more gently, hating that her
mother had now been put into the position of coming face to face with
the reality of her dangerous lifestyle.  "I know how to be careful."

Bill had to put his two cents in as well.  "Dana, as much as I hate
to say it, you should listen to your husband.  Stop trying to prove
you're invincible, for Christ sake.  You can't go running off to
chase down the bad guys on your own."  

"I don't have a choice.  My son needs me."  Scully put an abrupt end
to the debate, turning and heading upstairs without another word.  

Maggie followed after her, determined to talk some sense into her
daughter.

"We'll go with her, Mulder," Byers assured his friend, as soon as
both Scully and her mother had left the room.

Mulder shook his head, turning down the offer.  There was no way in
hell he was going to sit on the sidelines.  "What can you do for me,
boys?  How do I get rid of this thing?"  He wiggled his foot,
indicating the monitoring device the court had ordered to enforce his
house arrest.

"You can't get rid of it, Mulder.  Not without alerting the central
computer.  What you're wearing is an Active EMD.  A miniature
transmitter that broadcasts an encoded signal at regular intervals -
say 6 to 10 times per minute - to that receiver-dialer they installed
in the kitchen.  The signal has a limited reporting range; and if it
fails to account to the central computer..."  Byers shrugged
helplessly. 

"There must be a way to take it off," Mulder persisted.

"No can do."  Frohike slowly shook his head from side to side.  "Not
without someone finding out about it.  The ankle band is tamper-
resistant.  It contains a fiber optic cable and light transmitting
diode, which sends a constant status indication.  If the signal is
interrupted, even momentarily, Big Brother will know about it
immediately." 

"Shit..."  Mulder rested his hands on his hips, his mind struggling
to come up with a workable solution.  "Can they track this thing - if
I were to make a run for it?"

"The transmitter only has a pulse range of about 200 yards.  They
wouldn't be able to track you," Frohike admitted.  "Besides you could
take it off after you were out of range of the receiver.  But you're
going to bring down a lot of heat if you try running," he warned.

Mulder rubbed at the tension building across his forehead.  "What
other option do I have?"

"You could chew your foot off," Bill cracked, receiving an irritated
smirk from his brother-in-law in return.  He shrugged innocently. 
"Just a suggestion."

Langly's face was pinched, reflecting his deep thought.  "It's
possible we could duplicate the transponder signal."  

Byers jumped on board.  Yeah... Trick the receiver into believing
the transmitter ISN'T out of range."

Mulder's pulse was already racing in anticipation.  "Can you do it? 
How long will it take?"

"We'll need some equipment," Frohike mused aloud.

The tone of Langly's voice revealed his own growing excitement.  "A
Wildcat broadcaster, an XL7 decoding unit... probably need a
frequency synthesizer, too."

"How long?" Mulder demanded impatiently.

Frohike looked from Byers to Langly.  "Doesn't Cougar live in
Providence?"

"I'm on it."  Langly was already typing a message into the e-mail. 
"You'll be a fugitive from justice by nightfall, Mulder."




*  *  *  *

(To be continued...)


FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND  -  part 18 of 20
By T Bishop



~Chapter 16~



Wednesday, June 21, 2006
An alleyway somewhere in DC
Late night


Alex Krycek's body hit the cold concrete with brutal force, causing
most of the air to shoot out of his lungs with a loud "Ooof!"
Immediately, the full weight of his assailant fell upon him; both
arms were wrenched behind his back, and a pair of handcuffs locked
them in place.  There was a gun at his head.  And when his attacker
rolled him over, Alex found himself staring into the steely eyes of
the owner of that gun - Special Agent Dana Scully.  He shivered.  His
eyes darted to her partner who had wrestled him to the ground and was
now perched over him with a look of pure bloodlust.

"Hey man, what's going on?" Krycek rasped, trying to regain his
composure after the surprise hit.

Mulder replied with his fist.

A teeth-rattling right across the jaw had Alex seeing stars.

"I'm gonna kill you, Krycek," Mulder snarled through clenched teeth.
Lifting the other man by the collar, he slammed him back several
times onto the pavement.  The hunt had been brief; he wanted to savor
the kill.

"Wha- what did I do?"  It was a dangerous play, but Alex wouldn't
risk revealing his hand until his opponent's cards were on the table.

Another pop to the jawbone.  Same spot as the first.  Hurt like hell.

Grabbing Krycek by the hair, Mulder yanked him up close.  "Don't
FUCKING play innocent with me!  It's been YOU all along, you devious
piece of shit!"  He thumped Krycek's head against the ground.  "I
want my son back!"  His temper beyond control, Mulder delivered three
solid blows to the belly of the man lying helpless beneath him.  And
when Krycek doubled up, Mulder flattened him again with a combination
to the chin.

The pungent tang of blood bathed Alex's tongue, dripping into his
throat, compounding the nausea that the unguarded hits to his stomach
had instigated.  He gagged, fighting the overwhelming urge to heave,
and moaned a futile argument in his defense.  "I - don't - I don't
have him!"

"Liar!" Scully raged.  "You're a goddamn liar!  It was you who
planted the evidence to frame Mulder!  And don't you dare deny it!"
She bent down next to Krycek, pressing the barrel of her SIG into his
face until he winced.  "Where's Adam?  What have you done with him?"

Krycek's breathing came fast and shallow as he tried to overcome his
queasiness, and bear the throbbing in his jaw along with the bite of
the semi-automatic cutting into the soft flesh beneath his left eye.
"I told you... I don't have your boy.  I-"  He was attempting to
explain, but couldn't get the words out fast enough to mollify the
fury of his aggressors.

"Stand back, Scully.  I don't want you getting this vermin's blood
all over you," Mulder forewarned, fully prepared to pound the truth
from Krycek, without the slightest bit of remorse.  In Mulder's mind,
the bastard not only had it coming to him - it was long overdue.

"Damn it!  Wait!"  Alex squirmed frantically, stabbing pain shooting
up his arms as his actions crushed the maliciously applied handcuffs.
"Listen to me, Mulder!  Wait!  I don't have your boy!"

Scully shook her head in amazement, and made an effort to clarify
for their longtime nemesis the reality of his current situation.  She
kept her tone calm and even, looking him directly in the eyes so he
wouldn't mistake her sincerity.  "Krycek, my husband is going to kill
you," she told him quite matter-of-factly.  "And I'm not going to
stop him this time.  Now, you can tell us where Adam is, and I'll see
to it that your death is quick and relatively painless.  Or you can
make this hard on yourself.  Believe me, I'll have no problem at all
watching Mulder torture the truth out of you."  As she leaned nearer
to make her final point, her voice dropped to a chilling whisper.
"And between you and me - he's REALLY looking forward to it."

"I'm telling the truth!" Alex protested.  "I don't know where the
kid is!"

She shrugged indifferently, and stepped back.  "He's all yours,
Mulder."

An insidious smile spread across Mulder's face, and Alex's eyes went
wide.  "NO!  NO!  Wait!  I DID plant the evidence, but I don't have
the kid!  I'll explain everything if you'll just give me half a
chance!" he pleaded.  "Calm down, okay?  Calm down and let me - Oof!"

Mulder hit him in the gut again.

"Jesus... let me - Ahh!"

This time it was his nose.

"Aw - Fuck!"  Probably broken.  Alex could barely see straight,
making out just enough to cringe in anticipation of the club-like
fist he saw bearing down on him again.

"Mulder."  Scully's soft reprimand put a stop to the violence.

Mulder struggled to see her through his blinding wrath and the sweat
that drenched his forehead.

She placed a cool hand on his cheek, effectively calming him.
"Adam," she reminded him.  That single word not needing further
explanation.

Mulder kissed his wife's palm, nodding a silent assurance to her.
Priorities, Mulder, priorities.  Finding Adam took precedence here.
He could settle the score with Krycek AFTER they got the information
they needed.  This particular bane of his existence would cease to be
a problem soon enough.

"You're a two-faced bastard, Krycek.  And you certainly don't
deserve mercy.  But give us the truth, and I'll honor Scully's
promise not to draw this out unnecessarily."  He hauled the other man
to his feet, shoving him in the direction of a nearby trash dumpster.
Then Mulder charged after him, grabbing his enemy by the scruff of
the neck this time.  "I'm warning you though, if this is going to be
another one of your lies..."  He pushed Krycek against the dumpster,
kicking his feet out from under him.

Alex rested against the trash receptacle, breathing hard, shaking
his head insistently.  "The truth - the truth, I swear it!"




*  *  *  *



Apartment of Walter Skinner
Thursday, June 22, 2006
4:32 AM



After the expected wait considering the hour at which they were
calling, the door of apartment 817 flew open.  A bathrobe-clad Walter
Skinner, his dubious expression edged with anger, met Mulder and
Scully fully charged.  "What in the HELL are you two doing here?" he
roared.  "Scully, are you out of your mind?  Are you familiar with
the expression aiding and abetting a fugitive?"  His heated glare
focused on Mulder next.  "And YOU!  You've got ten seconds to offer
me an explanation as to what on earth possessed you to jump bail,
before I arrest you and haul your ass back to Massachusetts myself!"

Scully cleared her throat.  "Sir, we have a lead on our son's
whereabouts."

"We need your help," Mulder added.

Their quiet demeanors and beseeching expressions took the wind out
of the assistant director's sails.  Though wary of what he might be
getting himself into, Skinner was not the kind of man who could
easily turn away friends in need - especially not these two.  Their
unwavering loyalty to each other and to those they considered their
friends was, at the very least, deserving of reward in kind.  The
hell with the legalities of it; he was doing the right thing.  "Come
on in."

They filed past him, Scully stopping to squeeze his hand and offer a
soft-spoken "Thank you."

"Have a seat."  He indicated the couch for his agents, settling
himself into a nearby easy chair.  "All right, what's this all
about?"

Chewing at his bottom lip, Mulder swept the room with anxious eyes.
"Is it safe to talk here?"

Skinner nodded slowly.  "No one can get a signal out of this
apartment.  You have my word on that."  He'd learned, over the years,
that an investment in counter-espionage equipment, though costly, was
money well spent.

Reassured, Mulder started at the beginning, bringing Skinner up to
speed on everything they knew of The Progenesis Project.  He told him
how Scully had been affected, about Adam's special abilities, and
about Marita and Krycek's daughter.

The jaded X-File AD took every word of it in stride.  After aliens,
flukemen, zombies, and vampires, it took more than a straightforward
genetics experiment to get a rise out of Walter Skinner.  His only
reaction: a tightening of the muscles in his jaw when Scully told him
the name of the individual she and Mulder believed held their son.

"Dr. Vladimir Kosov?"  Skinner had never heard of the man.

"Yes, he's a Russian scientist who had been working covertly with
CGB," Mulder explained.  "After the disaster at El Rico, old Spender
couldn't trust the remaining Consortium members - not on a project as
important as Progenesis.  He kept the operation small, and highly
secretive."

"But they found out about it anyway," Skinner surmised.

"Yes.  Somehow.  But only recently," Mulder confirmed.  "Kosov was
forced to make a grab for the kids on his own, before the revitalized
syndicate - apparently a significant power again - could get their
hands on them.  He was successful at snatching Adam, but they beat
him to Evaneiia."

Scully picked up the story.  "Though Kosov only really needs one of
the children to be able to continue his work, he doesn't want what he
considers his most prized accomplishments to fall into the wrong
hands."  She had to stop briefly to temper her resentment.  "He
struck a deal with Krycek.  In exchange for Alex's help framing
Mulder, Kosov would get Evaneiia back for him, and help him protect
her in the future."

Skinner nodded, putting the rest of the puzzle together himself.
"And by having everyone believe Mulder murdered his own son, Kosov
could get away with kidnapping the boy, and no one would be the
wiser."  He took a deep breath and sighed.  "You came here for my
help.  What can I do?"

Mulder leaned forward, elbows on knees, his body language betraying
his impatience.  "Krycek is still waiting for word on his daughter.
He expects to hear from Kosov sometime in the next thirty-six hours.
Until then, we need you to help keep the authorities from discovering
that I've flown the coop.  The last thing we want is for Kosov to get
nervous.  We can't give him any reason to be suspicious that this is
going down any way other than how he planned."  As he spoke, Mulder
wrung his hands restlessly.  "When Krycek meets with Kosov to get his
daughter back, Scully and I plan to be there to apprehend the good
doctor."

"You expect he'll cooperate and tell you where Adam is, once he's in
custody?"  Skinner was well aware that his agent had neglected to use
the word 'arrest'.

Mulder's expression went deadpan, his voice stone cold.  "We don't
plan on giving him a choice."

Scully reached over and grasped her husband's hand in a show of
solidarity.  She wanted her boss to understand she fully intended to
back Mulder up, regardless of Bureau policy and procedure, regardless
of the law.  This was a personal war, and not one she and Mulder
intended to lose because FBI High Command was less vested in the
outcome... or had a surreptitious conflict of interest.

They were going to get their son back.

Skinner let his tired eyes fall shut.  What a fucking mess.  This
whole situation was out of control.  There were more sides than he
cared to think about, and caught in the middle were two innocent
children.  His agents - his FRIENDS - were only parents trying to
protect their child, when all was said and done.  They could not be
expected to adhere to FBI standards of professional conduct under
circumstances such as these.  There was something innate that came
into play and couldn't be overridden - a parent's natural instinct to
defend its young.  Though he didn't have children of his own, Skinner
understood and respected the fierce response parents were capable of
when their children were threatened.  He'd seen it in Nam.  There was
no soldier as ruthless as a parent who feared for the life of his or
her child.

But while fighting spirit unquestionably affected advantage, too
much was a precursor to recklessness.  He opened his eyes again,
regarding his friends with a bolstered sense of determination.  He
wasn't going to let them martyr themselves through an act of
carelessness.  "I'll do what I can to cover for you, Mulder... but
only under one condition."

Chary eyes begged the question.

"I want to be there when you go after Kosov.  You're both operating
on a lot of emotion right now.  You know as well as I do that's a
recipe for disaster.  Someone with a cool head has to be there to
back you up."

Mulder smirked and started to say something but Skinner leveled a
warning finger at him before he could get a word out.  "You crack a
bald joke, smart ass, and you're on your way back to a jail cell."

Scully bit back a laugh as her husband donned his best "Who me?"
face.  She was about to elbow Mulder in the ribs for his
impertinence, when a familiar voice startled her from behind.

"Walter, where'd you go?  I rolled over and- oh!"

Mulder and Scully turned their heads in unison to see Skinner's
assistant Kimberly, standing at the entrance to the living room,
wearing only her boss's dress shirt and a look of absolute
mortification.

"Agent Mulder.  Agent Scully."  She greeted them courteously despite
her utter chagrin, and then turned eyes of apology to her blushing
lover.  "I didn't realize..."

Skinner cleared his throat, reminding himself that embarrassment
wasn't a fatal condition.  "It's all right, Kim."

Several awkward seconds later, Kimberly decided retreat was probably
her best option.  "Um... If you'll excuse me, I - ah - I think I'll
just go get dressed."

"Sure."  Mulder smiled politely, but took full advantage of the
occasion to ogle a nice pair of legs.

Scully wiggled her fingers in a sheepish wave, empathetic to the
other woman's plight.  Having been in a few delicate relationship
situations herself in the past, Scully knew all too well the import
of discretion.

As soon as Kimberly disappeared down the hall, Mulder began the
gleeful inquisition.  "Well, well, well.  You and Kim?  When did all
this happen?"

Skinner couldn't meet the younger man's eyes.  "I don't know... I
guess things have been heading in this direction for a while.  You
work with someone for years..."  He shrugged.  "One day you finally
decide to stop ignoring the obvious."

"Is that how it happens?"  Mulder grinned and winked at his wife,
who scolded him with a look.

Scully attempted to alleviate some of Skinner's distress.  "Sir, I
hope you know we'll respect your privacy in regards to this matter."

"I appreciate that."  Skinner nodded.  Certainly if anyone knew how
to keep an office romance hush-hush it was these two.

"We should go, Mulder," Scully urged softly, checking her watch.

"Yeah, it'll be getting light soon," Mulder agreed.  He stood up and
Skinner and Scully followed suit.  "We'll be in touch."

Skinner nodded, showing them out.  "In the mean time, lay low and
behave yourselves."

"I could say the same thing to you."  Mulder waggled his eyebrows,
and flashed a broad grin.  It wasn't often a guy got something this
good on a friend.  No way was he going to pass up the chance to
harass Skinner.  He still remembered the lecture a certain assistant
director gave him on the compulsory use of prophylactics by federal
agents in the course of the performance of duties where potential
risk factors exist, and the consequence of failing to properly
observe Bureau guidelines.  Hell yeah, he was going to hassle the
man!

Skinner rolled his eyes and tried not to go red in the face all over
again.  Damn Mulder anyway - he was never going to let this go.

At the door, Mulder turned back.  He'd catch hell from Scully later,
but he just had to ask - had to push one more button.  "She made the
first move, didn't she?"

Frowning, Skinner held the door.  "Get outta here, Mulder."

"That's what I thought."  With a knowing gleam in his eyes and a
smug smile, Mulder allowed his wife to pull him into the hall.

When he started to chuckle to himself as they walked to the
elevator, Scully sent a furtive glance in her husband's direction.
"Like you're one to talk."



*  *  *  *

(To be continued...)


FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND  -  part 19 of 20
By T Bishop



~CHAPTER 17~


Laurel, Maryland
Friday, June 23, 2006
11:27 PM



He told her to call him 'Dedushka' - Grandfather.  He'd saved her
from that horrible hospital, those men with the needles and the scary
machines, the tests that made her cry.  Dedushka promised to take her
to Papa...



It was a warm night, but Evaneiia shivered as she stepped out onto
the shipping dock of the old cannery.  It was dark and she was
afraid.  She wanted very much to go home.

As the little girl and her hulking escort passed a stack of storage
pallets, there was a scurrying noise - the scraping of sharp, tiny
claws, as some small creature startled and scampered away.

Evaneiia jumped and shrieked.

"Shh!  Quiet!" Kosov admonished her sternly, his eyes darting around
the deserted loading platform.  There were three forgotten boxcars
rusting on the train tracks, and out of one of them stepped Alex
Krycek.

"Evie!"  Seeing his daughter again after weeks of worry, brought a
flood of relief.

"Papa!"  Evaneiia tried to run to her father, but Kosov refused to
allow it, holding her back.  "Let me go!" she demanded, struggling
against his vice-like grip.

"Not so fast, little one," Kosov warned, in a thick Russian accent.
He studied Krycek like a snake calculating his best method of strike.

"I kept my part of the deal, Kosov!  Let her go!"

Alex moved out of the shadows, and the bright light of the moon
caught him, revealing his badly battered face.  Evaneiia flinched;
her dark eyes went wide.  But there was no visible reaction from
Kosov.

A haughty laugh shook the big Russian's body. "Alex, you are such a
fool.  Do you really believe that I would risk having one of my
creations fall into the wrong hands again?"

"My daughter is not your creation, old man."  These arrogant pricks
like Kosov and CGB were all the same.  They thought themselves gods -
that they had somehow been ordained as masters of the human race.
Alex did his best to check his anger.  "You've got Mulder's boy.  You
don't need Evaneiia to continue your work.  Besides, you offered us
your protection as part of the agreement."

"I lied," Kosov stated bluntly.

"We had a deal!  I did everything you asked of me!"  Alex played up
the desperation in his voice, at the same time reminding himself he'd
have the opportunity to spit in the face of this pig very soon.

Kosov pulled a pistol from the pocket of his coat.  "You, of all
people, should be wary of deception," he said, taking aim at Krycek's
heart.  "I'm afraid this lesson, unfortunately, comes at a high price
for you, my dear comrade."

Alex didn't want to appear overconfident, for fear Kosov would
suspect a trap.  "You won't get away with this.  If anything happens
to me, Marita will expose you to the others."

"Marita Covarrubias is dead."  He stated it flatly, coldly.

"Mama," Evaneiia whimpered, starting to cry as she vainly attempted
to pry her hand free from Kosov's meaty paw.

"What?"  The news shook Alex hard.  It couldn't be true; he'd just
left Marita at the motel.

Kosov's melodramatic sigh was mocking.  "The chambermaid will
stumble upon the gruesome scene when she comes to tidy the room in
the morning.  By then, your lovely Marita's two assailants will be
long gone, disappearing back under the rock where I found them, with
enough money to assure their silence.  You'd be surprised how
reasonably one can hire hit men.  Of course there's always certain
pleasurable enticements to be considered when the target is a
beautiful woman.  I'm sure they enjoyed some of the fringe benefits,
before all was said and done."

In his rage, Alex forgot everything else.  He drew his gun and
pointed it at Kosov's round face.  "You lousy bastard!  I'm going to
fucking kill you!"

"NO!"  Scully yelled, rushing out from her hiding place, her own
weapon trained on Krycek.  "Put it down!  Put it down!  We need him
alive!" she screamed.

"Damn it!"  This is what Skinner had been afraid would happen.  He
rolled off the overhead conveyer, landing as sure as a cat, a few
yards behind Scully.  His .45 leveled at Kosov.

The large man panicked.  He grabbed up Evaneiia, shielding himself
with her body as he pressed the barrel of his 9mm Makarov to the
child's head.  "All of you, drop your weapons or I kill the girl
right now!  You will watch her die!"

Standoff.  Everyone calculating the options.

From Mulder's vantage point, atop a nearby stack of pallets, he
could see Kosov's finger begin to tighten on the trigger.

"Do you hear me?  I swear I'll kill her!"

Evaneiia sobbed - terrified - as hard steel was cruelly pushed into
her temple for emphasis.  "Papa... I want Mama.  I want to go home."

Alex's vision blurred with tears.  "It's all right, honey - it's all
right.  Don't be scared."  He bent down carefully, placing his gun on
the ground in front of him, then raising his hands as he backed
away.

Scully and Skinner did the same.

"Don't hurt her, man, okay?  Please?" Alex begged.  "Don't hurt her."

All of a sudden Mulder felt something crawl up his pant leg.  Furry
little body - sharp claws - long, leathery tail - A RAT!  A GODDAMN
FUCKING RAT!  He yelped in surprise and disgust, frantically kicking
his leg... in serious danger of falling from his precarious
position.

The rodent scurried out of his hostile environment and disappeared
back into the catacomb of wood.

Krycek took advantage of the momentary distraction.  Knowing this
might be his only chance to rescue his daughter, he charged at Kosov.
But the doctor turned back a moment sooner than anticipated, jumping
aside just as Alex launched himself for the attack.  Krycek ended up
face down on the concrete.

Backpedaling, Kosov edged closer and closer toward the end of the
dock, his eyes bouncing back and forth, attempting to watch everyone
at once.

He had the look of a cornered animal, and Mulder knew the man was
every bit as dangerous.

"All of you stay where you are or I shoot!"

"Daddy!"  Evaneiia winced and closed her eyes tight.

No fucking way was Alex going to let this asshole make a run for it
with Evie.  Keeping a constant watch on Kosov's every move, he very
slowly inched his hand down to the Colt concealed at his ankle.
There wasn't much time.  Kosov had reached the stairs.  He had to
shoot clean.  It was now or never.

Kosov caught Krycek's movements out of the corner of his eye and
immediately turned his gun on him, firing off three quick rounds.

Alex ducked fast and rolled out of danger behind a large crate, but
he lost his weapon in the process.

Kosov knew there was no way he would escape with the girl.  Time to
cut your losses, Vladimir, and run.

In an unexpected move, Kosov shoved Evaneiia to the ground hard.
Everyone's hearts leapt into their throats as he callously took aim
at the small child huddled at his feet.

"NOOOOOOOO!" Krycek screamed, disregarding his own safety as he
raced to protect his daughter.

He'd never make it.

Three loud cracks echoed into the night air.

Dr. Vladimir Kosov collapsed and slid backwards down the stairs.

Alex grabbed up his trembling daughter, cradling her in his arms and
whispering a litany of soothing words against her ear.

Scully and Skinner were on Mulder's heels, rushing toward the
stairs.  All three stopped short when they saw him - or what was left
of him.  Mulder's shots had taken out a sizable chunk from Kosov's
head.  The man lay staring blankly up at the stars, an expression of
horror forever frozen on his face.

"Fuck!" Mulder swore bitterly, furious with himself.

"You didn't have a choice," Skinner tried to console his agent.

Scully just stood there, staring at the body until she couldn't take
it anymore and she covered her eyes with one hand, tears of anger and
frustration spilling over her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Scully," Mulder tried, but she shook her head and turned
her back to him.  And then, to add insult to his pain, Mulder heard
the sound of an engine sparking to life and tires squealing...  He
spun around to confirm his suspicion.  "Shit!"

Krycek and Evaneiia were gone.



*  *  *  *



~Chapter 18~



Hoover Building
Basement office of the X-Files Division
Thursday, June 29, 2006
9:18 AM




When Mulder returned from the copier room he found Donaldson leaning
over Scully, both hands resting on her desk, trapping her where she
sat.  He was saying something to her, but Mulder couldn't hear what
it was.  Didn't matter.  The combination of the other man's
inappropriate proximity and position, and the troubled look on
Scully's face, was more than enough information.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Joe Donaldson looked up in surprise.

It was the blonde agent's frightened expression that finally
triggered Mulder's memory, jealousy seizing him as he remembered that
day in the lab... walking in to find a wet-behind-the-ears rookie
putting the moves on his partner.  Mulder couldn't say anything back
then; it wasn't his place - though he'd managed to scare Donaldson
off with little more than an alpha male stare.

"I came down here to apologize," Agent Donaldson explained, backing
away from Mulder's steady, intimidating advance.

Mulder caught up with him and growled in a low voice, right in his
face, "If I ever catch you anywhere near my wife again, you WILL be
sorry."

Starting to sweat, Donaldson choked out a defensive reply over the
lump that had formed in his throat.  "Christ, Mulder, do you think
I'm an idiot or something?"

"Or something," Mulder echoed.  His eyes narrowed to a menacing
glare, until the other man started to squirm.  "Get the fuck out of
here, Donaldson.  We're not interested in your apologies.  You're
only trying to save your ass with Skinner."

"Look, there's no reason for hard feelings here.  I was just doing
my job-"

Mulder cut him off.  "Save it for the OPR hearing.  Agent Scully and
I intend to file grievances."

Donaldson started to say something and then thought better of it.
Any further exchange ended with the arrival of a familiar face.

"Am I interruptin' anything?"  John Doggett, a little older, but
still the same lanky frame and piercing blue eyes poked his head in
the door.

Scully was up and out of her chair in a heartbeat.  "Agent Doggett."
She met him with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek.  "It's good to
see you, John."

"Hey, if I'da known the reception was gonna be so warm, I'da made a
trip down here a lot soona," he remarked, in his native New Yorker
drawl.

"You're always welcome here, you know that."  She smiled at him.

"I wasn't so sure..."  Doggett stopped short, glancing uncomfortably
at Donaldson, and exchanging hesitant looks with Mulder and Scully.

"I was just leaving," Donaldson announced, picking up his cue.

After he left, the tension in the room eased considerably.  "Look,
if it means anything to ya, I feel terrible about the way things went
down afta yous two guys resigned."

"Don't worry about it." Mulder told him.  "There was nothing you
could have done.  Skinner explained that Kersh was determined to shut
down the X-Files."

Doggett nodded.  "Yeah, well, that may be true, but I feel like I
let you down.  Anyways, I just came to say, I'm glad you're back."
He paused and then added a bit more somberly, "I'm sorry about Adam.
If there's anything I can do... you just name it.  I mean that not
just professionally, but on a personal level, too."

"Thank you, John."  Scully squeezed his hand.  "For everything."

A thin-lipped smile and a wink, and then Doggett pointed a warning
finger in Mulder's direction.  "Hey, Mulduh, you stay outta trouble
now, you hear me?"

"I'll try," Mulder promised, deadpan.  "But it always has this way
of sneaking up and biting me on the ass."




*  *  *  *  *



Reeves Restaurant
Washington DC
Thursday, June 29, 2006
12:47 PM


Scully had been pensive all through lunch.  A mother and her baby
were seated at a table across the restaurant, and since the moment
they'd arrived, Scully's eyes had been on the child, to the exclusion
of everything else.

Brow knit with concern, Mulder watched his wife silently.  Neither
of them had touched a bite of their food.

Since Saturday night's disaster, they'd had so much to deal with
they'd scarcely had time to talk.  With Skinner's help, they'd
cleared things up with the authorities in Massachusetts.  Adam's case
was strictly a Bureau matter now, as it fell under the category of
interstate kidnapping.  Krycek had vanished, once again.  And if
Marita was dead, her body had yet to be found.  The late Dr. Vladimir
Kosov was turning out to be one of those people who never existed -
on paper anyway.  They could find no record that he'd ever been born,
gone to school, held a job, paid taxes, been arrested, seen a doctor,
or applied for a passport.  It was frustrating as hell, but they were
back at square one in the search for their son.

As Mulder watched Scully now, staring at that baby, his heart ached.
Her lovely blue eyes, that only a few weeks ago sparkled with joy as
she looked at their own son, were pained and dull with sorrow.  How
different this moment might have been if he hadn't killed Kosov.  In
a heartbeat, Mulder had traded away what could very well have been
their last and only hope of finding Adam alive, to save the life of
another man's child.  It happened so fast, there wasn't time to
think, but now he couldn't STOP thinking about it.  At the time,
there was no question in his mind but to stop Kosov from murdering an
innocent little girl; and yet, as ashamed as Mulder was to admit it,
in retrospect, he was plagued with regret.  It would have been far
easier to watch Evaneiia die, than to face this misery in Scully's
eyes for the rest of his life.

"I'm sorry, Mulder," she said at last, drifting back to him from
someplace sad and far away.

"For what?" he asked.

"Being so selfish."  Scully traced patterns with her fingernail in
the condensation that had formed along the sides of her untouched
glass of iced tea, avoiding his gaze.

"You?"  He almost laughed.  "Scully, you're the least selfish person
I've ever met."

She shook her head, still refusing to look at him.  "That's not
true.  I've been terribly selfish.  It was my heart's desire that led
us down this ill-fated path.  I was so... OBSESSED with having a
child, I refused to stop and ask myself if I really should."

He sighed.  "Sweetheart, don't do this.  Don't blame yourself."

"The choice was mine, Mulder.  There's no one else at fault.  I
wanted so badly to be a mother - to have a child of my own to love -
that I thoughtlessly disregarded everything else."

"We BOTH wanted a child.  We made the choice together.  At least
that's what we intended.  Even if, ultimately, it was circumstance
that decided."

She nodded, conceding the point.  "But if you could somehow go back,
reconsider... would you choose differently?"

"What if there was only one choice and all the other ones were
wrong?"  He posed the question she'd put to him the night they'd
first made love.

She regarded him solemnly.  "Did we make the wrong choice, Mulder?"

His first response was an immediate and resounding NO, but something
in her eyes stopped him.  He gave it thought.  And the longer he
considered it, the more troublesome the question became.  In the end,
he could do nothing more than reach across the table and take her
hand...




*  *  *  *

(To be concluded in epilogue...)


FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND  -  part 20 of 20
By T Bishop



~Epilogue~



Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts
Saturday, November 18, 2006
3:27 AM



Trips to The Vineyard were bittersweet for her now, but nonetheless
treasured.  Five long months had passed since Adam's kidnapping.
With the chill of late autumn in the air, she and Mulder had
retreated to their island home for yet another weekend of much-needed
rest.  A chance for Scully to replenish her spirits with memories of
her lost son.

As had become her routine during these pilgrimages home, she
wandered through the house like an apparition, in the wee hours of
the morning, when Mulder had finally exhausted himself with a
restless night of tossing and turning, and was deeply ensconced in
sleep.  She drifted quietly from room to room... remembering.

The house echoed with childish laughter and clung to images of a
little boy at play.  These visits brought Scully closer to Adam; and
she lived in constant fear of losing this last connection with her
child.  The sights, sounds, and smells that assailed her senses,
sparked visions from the past.  Though it was just a fantasy, for a
few hours each week, she could have him back - if only in her
imagination.  Sometimes Scully would play along with the fantasy,
fixing Adam breakfast, and envisioning how happy he'd be when he woke
to the sweet, enticing smell of her blueberry pancakes.  As much as
the process hurt, she wanted to hold on to every last memory of her
son.

All roads, thus far, in the search for Adam had been dead ends.  If
Dr. Kosov had any associates, they'd conspired to silence upon his
death.  No one was talking, no matter how hard she and Mulder
pressed.  The prospect that he might have been working alone, made
Scully sick to her stomach every time she allowed her thoughts to
tread down that forbidden path.  For if Adam had been imprisoned
somewhere, unattended, awaiting Kosov's return, the boy would have
died of neglect, after who knows how many days of suffering.
Frightened.  Alone.  Perhaps confined in the dark - sick and weak
from lack of food and water.  Eventually to meet his cruel death,
crying pitifully for her and Mulder to come to him...

Scully shuddered, and tried to refocus her mind.  She had to hold
out hope that they would find him alive one day.  That promise was
the only thing that kept her going all these long months.

In the predawn hours of that cold November morning, Scully made her
way up the narrow staircase that led into the attic; the steady
patter on the rooftop having reminded her of Adam's 'secret' rainy
day hideout nested amongst the eves.  She'd discovered his stash of
books and toys by accident last year, when she was helping Mulder
patch a leak in the roof after a storm.  Scully hadn't revisited this
place since Adam had been taken, and thought surely the boy's
presence would be strong here.

It was her intent to sit amongst Adam's things and meditate, to send
comforting thoughts to her son, as she had every day to Mulder, when
they'd been separated during his abduction.  Though Scully's faith in
God had been seriously damaged as a result of Adam's kidnapping, her
conviction in the power of spiritual associations remained strong.
She believed that if she focused her energy, Adam might know she was
with him, that he wasn't alone, and they had not given up searching
for him.  Sometimes she even thought she could feel him reaching out
to her, his small hands clutching her heart.  Other times, when her
optimism was overshadowed by frustration and despair, Scully found
herself wondering if she'd just imagined these psychic connections
out of some desperate need to hold out a reason for hope.

Moving past the various boxes and clutter, Scully's eyes fell upon a
few of the old baby items Mulder had stored away, thinking that one
day he might convince her to have another child.  It had been a
persistent dream of his since the first moment he experienced
fatherhood.  Up until Adam had been taken from them, Mulder was
forever dropping little hints, pointing out newborns to Scully, with
a pleading look on his face.  On several occasions he'd almost won
his case with her.  Now Scully was glad she'd put him off.  They had
no right to bring children into the world, who were damned by their
own genetics.  She refused to allow her womb to be used as a
production facility for highly prized, superhuman infants, destined
only to become lab animals.

Never again, she promised herself.  Never again.

The sight of Adam's old bassinet melted away some of the bitterness
that had suddenly taken hold of Scully.  As her anger receded, her
mind flashed back to the picture of a precious newborn, swaddled
snuggly in his tiny bed, peering up at her with big, dark eyes.  And
that vision triggered another...


A petite package wrapped in glittering gold paper and tied with a
white satin ribbon - she found it nestled in the bassinet with the
baby.

"What's this?" she asked, casting a suspicious glance around the
room, noticing how hard Mulder was pretending to be engrossed in the
newspaper.  When he didn't respond, she cleared her throat and tried
again.  "Mulder?"

"Hmm?" he hummed, from somewhere behind the newsprint.

"I asked what this is."  The hint of a smile played on Scully's lips
as she lifted the nicely wrapped present out of the bassinet and
waved it at him.

One corner of the Washington Post bent back to reveal Mulder's best
poker face.  "Oh, that?  It's a little something Adam picked up for
you."  He retreated back to his charade of reading the sport's page,
remarking with feigned displeasure, "The kid's a big spender, Scully.
I'm not sure I can afford his tastes."

"Is that so?"  She giggled, wondering what bit of silliness Mulder
had chosen to spring on her this time.  After years of enduring his
unusual gift choices, Scully had actually come to cherish the strange
baubles he bestowed upon her every now and then.  With cautious
enthusiasm, she went about opening her gift, expecting anything but
what she found when the contents were finally revealed.

Under the gold paper was a blue and white box from Pampillonia
Jewelers (DC's finest)... and inside the box was the most stunning
platinum and diamond ring Scully had ever seen in her life, with a
fortune cookie sized slip of paper that simply read - 'Marry my
daddy.'

Tears welling in her eyes, Scully looked up from the box to see
Mulder standing anxiously before her.

"Scully?" he asked, obviously unsure what to make of her silence.

"I don't know what to say," she breathed, astonished.  She really
hadn't expected this -neither she nor Mulder having broached the
subject of marriage, prior to that moment.

"Cut the kid a break - say yes.  It's his first proposal."

Scully picked up her son, who squeaked and cooed in anticipation of
an early supper.  "A proposal from a handsome guy like this, how can
a girl possibly say no?"  She pressed a kiss to his velvety-soft
forehead.  "I'd love to marry your daddy, Adam.  I'd be honored."
Elated, Scully risked a peek up at Mulder, and found herself matching
the huge grin he wore.  Their eyes met just seconds before Mulder
leaned in and nearly swallowed her whole with a kiss...


The remembrance of that joyful moment could not take away the sorrow
that had now become a fixed part of Scully's soul.  In fact, the
desperate longing that memory provoked left her nearly convulsing
with loss.  She dropped to her knees beside Adam's empty cradle and
cried.



*  *  *  *  *



He wouldn't have noticed her at all, except the slight movement of
Scully's head caused the luster of her hair to catch the light from
the flickering fire.  Alerted to her presence, Mulder studied his
wife with concern as she sat in the window seat, lost in another
melancholy trance.  He considered speaking to her, but decided it was
pointless.  She was only across the living room, but it might as well
have been the other side of the world.

As he turned to leave her, resigned to another lonely weekend,
Mulder stopped at the bar cart, mechanically pouring himself a
generous portion of gin.  His throat burned with the first fiery
swallow, but it wouldn't be long before he became numb to the
sensation.  And if he drank enough, he'd eventually become
anesthetized to his own miserable existence.  Bringing the glass to
his lips the second time, Mulder happened to glance in the mirror as
he was leaving the room... and for a brief instant, his reflection
was transformed into the likeness of his father.  He gaped at the
image, staring with repulsion at the drink in his hand.  In the
background of that telling picture, he saw Scully, her reflection
suddenly becoming a haunting portrait of his mother.

In the span of a few heartbeats, it became clear to him - and he
wanted to scream.  He knew this story all too well.  He'd been a
firsthand witness to it, right through to its final pitiful act.  He
and Scully were playing out their own sorrowful version of his
parents' tragedy.  The parallels were undeniable.  The only question
was - could he stop it?

Putting down the sinister drink, he turned to Scully.  If there was
a way out of this for them, Mulder knew he would need her help.  She
seemed oblivious to his being there; and now that he had made the
connection, Mulder realized she was wearing the same vacant look his
mother had perfected after Samantha had been taken so many years ago.
He felt like a helpless child again, wanting to fix things, but not
knowing how.

As his panic grew, Mulder's eyes swept the room, searching for
answers, as if they would somehow be provided like the clues at the
scene of a crime.  But all he found, in the once comforting
surroundings of their beloved home, was an impending sense of doom.
That which he previously treasured now felt like a trap - and his
immediate instinct was to escape.

"I think we should sell the house," he blurted out, without a second
thought; the urgent tone of his declaration shaking Scully from her
dazed state.

She blinked at him confused - certain he couldn't have said what she
thought she heard.  "I'm sorry.  What was that, Mulder?"

Resolute in his assertion, Mulder moved closer, despite his sense
that he was treading in dangerous waters.  "I want to sell the house.
There are too many memories here."

Her look of reproach made it clear what she thought of his
outrageous suggestion.  "So... what?  You just want to forget Adam
now?  Is that what you're saying?  Sell the house and everything that
reminds us of him... and what then?  Pretend he never existed?  I
can't do that!"  Jumping to her feet, she faced him defiantly.  "I
WON'T do that!"

Mulder took firm hold of Scully's shoulders, his eyes pleading with
her to understand.  "I'm not asking you to forget him.  But I think
it would be better - for both of us - if we weren't surrounded by
constant reminders of what we've lost."

Her heart was racing at the very thought of giving up Adam's little
garden, his tree fort, and his secret hideout in the attic... all
that remained to be cherished of the child she and Mulder gave life.
He couldn't do this to her.  Didn't he know that she lived for these
weekends on The Vineyard?  "This place, the memories here, they're my
only connection with him.  Please don't take them from me," she
begged.

Her desperation only served to prove to Mulder that his suspicions
were correct.  "Scully, you don't understand.  It's happening to us,
just like it did to them."

"You're not making any sense.  What are you talking about?  WHO are
you talking about?"

"My parents, Scully!  After my sister was taken, everything fell
apart for them.  My mother withdrew inside herself.  She would wander
through the house like a ghost, every little thing reminding her of
Samantha.  She all but abandoned my father and me, retreating into
her memories rather than face life without my sister."  He paused a
moment to let the implication sink in.  "Does this sound familiar to
you?"

"I'm here," Scully protested.  "I haven't abandoned you!"

Mulder shook his head sadly.  "You're here but you're not...  You
exist in this life only so much as your body has form.  I swear,
Scully, sometimes when I look at you I can almost see right through
you.  You're becoming a ghost, just like she did."

"What do you want from me, Mulder?  I'm dealing with this the best I
can."  She pulled out of his grasp, turning her back on him.  Why was
he doing this to her?  He knew damn good and well she would never
leave him!  Hadn't she proven that time and time again?  Maybe she'd
been a little distant lately, but she was only trying to spare him
the weight of her grief on top of his own.  Sometimes Mulder's
persistent neediness was more than she could take.

Though he knew he was angering her, he continued with his story,
hoping to make her understand why he was so afraid for them.
"Shortly after Samantha was taken, Dad started drinking... his way of
escaping it all, I suppose.  He eventually became an alcoholic.  I
swore that would never happen to me; and yet..."  Mulder cast a
guilty glance in the direction of the mostly-empty bottle of gin,
knowing he'd been retreating to alcohol with increasing frequency in
recent weeks.  The need to physically connect with her became acute
at that moment.  Standing a few inches behind her wasn't enough.  He
moved closer, cringing when she tensed at his touch.  "Dana - their
marriage fell apart, and neither of them seemed to give a damn.  They
were too preoccupied with their grief."  Mulder's voice dropped to a
whisper, as he wrapped his arms around Scully, holding her tight.
"Baby, please... help me stop this from happening to us."

He'd managed to bring her to tears again; though it was not really
much of an amazing feat these days.  Scully was certain she was
suffering from depression; she hadn't realized the severity until
Mulder challenged her by drawing the comparison with his parents.
Her eyes took in the diminishing contents of the bottles on the bar.
And a sickening lump formed in the pit of her stomach as she realized
that rather than turning to Mulder for comfort, she'd been seeking
refuge there too.  He was right.  How in the hell had it come to
this?  Surely they were stronger than Bill and Teena Mulder.  They
loved each other more, didn't they?  Or had she judged Mulder's
parents too harshly all these years?  Perhaps, long ago, they were as
devoted to one another as she and Mulder were.

She couldn't let this happen.  She couldn't lose the most important
person in her world.  Their lives were spinning out of control, the
centrifugal force of their downward spiral tearing her and Mulder
apart.  He was reaching out to her... but could she grab hold?  And
if she could, did she have the strength to hang on?  "It's so hard,
Mulder.  I miss him," she confessed, ashamed of her weakness.
Failing Mulder had always been Scully's biggest fear.

"I know.  I know.  I miss him too."   He gave her a squeeze,
reassuring her of his presence and support.  "But we can't let this
destroy us.  We can't become like my parents."   Her silent nod of
agreement gave him courage again.  "I thought if we sold the house-"

Scully turned back to him now, confronting him with her appeal.  "I
NEED this house.  I don't want to let go.  I'm afraid..."

Yes, she was afraid.  He could see it so plainly in the azure
puddles that punctuated her plea.  "I understand, sweetheart, but we
have to let go a little.  Don't you see... it's for our own good?"
Mulder brought a hand up to caress his wife's cheek, experiencing an
ache of sexual desire as the softness of her porcelain skin made him
long for more than an innocent touch.  He sighed his frustration,
admitting a heartbreaking truth.  "I can't even remember when the
last time was that we made love."

Months.  It had been months since they'd shared physical intimacy
beyond holding hands or a passionless kiss.  And the worst part was,
Scully hadn't even noticed until Mulder brought it up.  Their
marriage truly was at risk of falling apart.  Somehow, she had to
find the strength and courage to keep from repeating Teena Mulder's
failure.  "I can't sell the house... but maybe... maybe we could
close it up for the winter, and stay in DC."  She wiped the tears
from her face and took a deep breath, steeling herself.  "I'm sorry.
That's all I can give you at the moment."

"That's okay, Scully.  I think it's a fair compromise."  Just
knowing that he'd reached her was a huge relief.  She was by his side
again - where she belonged.  He wouldn't have to fight this alone.




*  *  *  *  *



Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts
Saturday, November 18, 2006
11:21 PM




Scully shivered, and Mulder tugged on the forgotten blanket,
cocooning their naked bodies in the thickness of the handmade quilt.
The last embers of the neglected fire no longer were enough to keep
the drafts at bay.  And while it might have been decidedly romantic,
making love on the floor in front of the crackling fire, there was
something to be said for the comfort of a warm bed on a cold night.
Still, neither was about to complain about the circumstances.  They'd
just indulged in a long-overdue lovemaking session, and were feeling
far too contented at present to care.

Having spent the entire afternoon preparing the house for its winter
hibernation, they'd collapsed in front of the fire after a meager but
satisfying supper of chowder and bread.  They talked for a while -
about trivial things at first, like going out together for coffee in
the morning, and sending Tara flowers for her birthday next week.
But as the evening wore on and they became reacquainted, relaxing
into the comfortable camaraderie they knew so well, verbiage lost out
to a more intimate form of dialogue.

It started with a look; their eyes met and an unspoken agreement was
made.  It was time.  Time to let go.  Time to take a reprieve and
allow passion to carry them away to a place sorrow could not
overshadow.  Their initial need for comfort brought them into each
other's arms, but desire was the catalyst that incited them to a
frenzied consummation.

And now as they basked in the afterglow, exhilarated and exhausted,
the future did not seem as grim as it had when the day began.

Mulder nuzzled Scully's ear, whispering his affections as he
intermittently nipped and nibbled.  "God, I love you, Scully... so
much... I'd never survive without you."

Her eyes rolled back, and she shivered again, this time from the
sheer pleasure of his ministrations.  "Shh... Mmmm... Mulder, don't
even say it-"  Her breath hitched as he hit a particularly sensitive
spot on the back of her neck.  "Ahh...  You'll give them... Mmm...
ideas."

He chuckled softly, a rich, sexy sound that traveled right through
her.  "Is that your paranoia talking, Scully, or just a bit of
existential anxiety?"

Mmm... Pillow talk.  Scully smiled impishly, purring a reply.  "Is
there a difference?"

He considered her question and was about to offer commentary when a
loud rap at the door startled them both, destroying the mood.

"Aww...shit," Mulder grumbled, grabbing for and struggling into his
blue jeans, while Scully snatched up his T-shirt for herself.

"Who would be calling at this hour?" Scully wondered as she helped
Mulder with a hasty clean up, stowing their remaining clothing inside
the quilt and tossing the whole bundle into the coat closet on the
way to the door.

"Ten to one, whoever it is, they're not selling Girl Scout cookies,"
Mulder mumbled, taking a cautious peek through the window.  The porch
light wasn't working.  Strange - he'd replaced that bulb only
yesterday.  The hairs on the back of his neck bristled as Mulder
squinted to make out the shadowed figure at the door.  Though he
couldn't identify the individual in the darkness, the mannerisms of
the person seemed suspicious enough to warrant extra precautions.
"Scully-"

The distinctive sound of a slide engaging and hammer being cocked
stopped Mulder in mid-sentence.

"Gotcha covered, love," Scully assured him.

Mulder turned from the window to find his wife at the ready, SIG in
hand, positioned just off the line of sight of the front door,
guaranteeing herself the advantage should their late-night caller
have hostile intentions.  She looked sexy as hell, standing there
freshly fucked, wearing nothing but his oversize T-shirt, and holding
a semiautomatic in her hot little hands.  Hmm... Maybe later he'd
talk Agent Scully into playing an X-rated version of good cop/bad
cop... That naughty fantasy in mind, he couldn't resist stealing a
quick kiss from her on the way to the door.

Scully stood tense, her finger worrying the trigger of her weapon,
as Mulder unlocked the deadbolt and turned the knob.  For a
disturbingly long time, there was silence.  She held her breath,
waiting...

Until finally.

"Krycek."  Mulder spat the name like a curse.

Letting out a shaky breath, Scully relaxed her stance, but remained
hidden.  'Trust no one, Dana,' she reminded herself; especially not
this particular rat bastard, who, every time he came into her life,
brought tragedy.  Her abduction, Melissa's murder, Mulder's father's
murder, Mulder's abduction, and Adam's kidnapping, were just some of
the misfortunes she associated with the man.

Krycek's sociable greeting would lead one to believe no such history
ever existed.  "How are you, my friend?" he beamed.

"As well as can be expected."  Mulder's voice was bitter cold; he
had so many reasons to hate this man.  "What do you want now, Krycek?
I figured you'd be on the run after everything that went down.  You
certainly took off in a big hurry."

"I'm sorry about that.  I was concerned for my family's safety,"
Alex apologized.  He'd barely gotten back to the motel in time to
save Marita's life.

"Yeah, well, you're welcome," Mulder spat with contempt.  It was so
nice of you to lead us into a trap and then scurry off into your rat
hole after we saved your tail.

"Don't think I didn't appreciate your sacrifice."  Alex had never
been particularly convincing at sincerity.

Mulder barked a scornful laugh.  "Considering your part in
everything that happened, I'd say you have a lot of guts showing your
face on my front doorstep, Krycek.  What the hell are you doing here?"

"I owe you a great debt for saving Evaneiia's life.  And though I
may not live by the same moral code as you, I don't like to be
indebted to anyone."

Before Mulder had time to reply, a small figure stepped into view
from around the doorway.

"Daddy?"

"ADAM!"  Scully's scream hit Mulder first, resonating over the
pounding of his heart, breaking though his shock, as she raced past
him to their son.

My God!  Adam!  Alive, and safe... and HOME!  And on the receiving
end of a hug from his mother that threatened to asphyxiate the poor
kid.

On her knees, Scully clung to her son for all she was worth,
sobbing, "My baby, my baby, my baby..." as she rocked him side to
side.  Unbelievable!  Just like that - they had him back.  The doctor
in her wanted to examine the child immediately, from head to toe -
twice - and then once more just to be sure; but the mother in her
simply couldn't let go.  It felt too good to be holding him, after
all these months.  He was solid and real and perfect... not like the
memories she'd tried to cling to in his absence.  "Thank you, God,"
Scully whispered reverently, already knowing that tomorrow she'd be
making a penitent trip to St. Andrew's.

Captive in his mother's arms, Adam's eyes never left his father's.
They drew Mulder in, tugging at his heart until he too was on his
knees, a part of the joyful reunion.

Scully could not bring herself to lessen her hold, even as the boy
struggled and complained loudly he was being 'squished'.  It was
Mulder who finally pried Adam free, demanding equal time, and lifting
him into a gentler, but no less enthusiastic, embrace.

"Are you okay, son?"  It was a struggle for Mulder to force out the
words, every syllable having to be rerouted around the considerable
lump in his throat.

Adam gave a nod.  And when he asserted the infamous "I'm fine,"
line, both his parents laughed out loud despite their tears.

By the time they remembered Krycek, he was long gone, leaving them
to wonder, yet again, at the motives of a man whose loyalty and deeds
defied explanation.

"He just wants to do the right thing," Adam explained, in response
to his parents' unspoken musings.

Mulder wasn't sure he wanted to know WHAT Krycek had to do, or HOW
he managed to get his hands on Adam.  He was just thankful for the
end result in this case, whatever the means.

"Alex told me right and good aren't always the same thing," Adam
offered, again in reaction to his father's thoughts.

Scully frowned, throwing an exasperated look at her husband.  Krycek
was one of the last people she wanted Adam to be taking ethics
lessons from.  She was suddenly furious at the violation of her
child's world.

"Not now, Scully."  Mulder shook his head at her, noting her
outrage, and the instant dismay it seemed to evoke in Adam.

She admonished herself too.  She didn't want to upset her little boy
after God only knows what he'd been through.  Right now she just
wanted to take Adam inside and tuck him into bed between her and
Mulder, and spend the rest of the night watching him sleep,
reassuring herself with every rise and fall of his chest, that he was
alive and well, and they really had him back.

It was impossible for Mulder to look at his son without guilt.  The
legal charges against him may have been dropped; the newspapers and
TV stations may have proclaimed him innocent; Scully could insist all
she wanted that he wasn't to blame for what happened; but Mulder's
conscience couldn't deny the truth.  He'd failed in his most
important role - as father and protector.  And he was one lucky son
of a bitch to be getting a second chance.

Adam studied his father's expression with genuine concern, his blue
eyes piercing deep into Mulder's heart, looking into his very soul.
He tried to make his father understand.

"It wasn't your fault, Daddy."

Yes, it was.  He'd failed.  But just as certain as Mulder was of
that fact, he was determined it would never happen again.  His
remorse brought with it a flood of fresh tears, as he kissed Adam and
whispered,  "I'm sorry... I'm sorry."

The seriousness on Adam's face gave the illusion of a much older
child.  He wanted to believe, like other children did, in the ability
of his father and mother to protect him from harm.  But a faith this
pure could only come from innocence, and Adam no longer saw the world
through the naïve eyes of a child.  His gift had become a curse
during his captivity, exposing him to schemes and ideologies well
beyond what one so young could be expected to comprehend.  His
parents had been so careful to shelter him from the truth... at least
what they knew of it.  But Adam Mulder had spent the last five months
reading the thoughts of people who did not love him, their minds
carelessly betraying insights into the harsh reality of who and what
he really was.  He understood a great deal more now, more than even
his parents knew.

He understood what was to come.



~fini~



Life is too short to drink bad wine.


Author's endnotes:  It took me eight months to write this story, and
along the way I've learned a lot.  (A lot, a lot, a lot... <g>)  This
was my first solo attempt at writing a novel, and I tortured myself
every step of the way.  Sadly, it has not cured me of my writing
affliction.  I'm more convinced than ever that writers are all
masochists at heart.  But before I go off to torment myself on yet
another project, I want to thank my husband David for his patience,
love and support; my children, Amanda, Alan, Aaron, Adam, Alex, and
Anthony, who only have occasional bouts of sibling rivalry with their
mother's muse, and don't mind leftover macaroni and cheese; my friend
Tracy for those six-hour long distance phone calls to just hang out
together and be girlfriends; my therapist Fran who is helping me turn
a dream into reality; and a very special thanks to all of you for
taking the time to read this story.

Marybeth, you are a beta goddess.  (Even though you prefer Beta
Bitch <g>)  Thank you for everything you've taught me.

Love to all,

Teresa