From: bellefleur <bellefleur1013@yahoo.com>
Date: Sat, 10 Dec 2005 01:39:00 -0800 (PST)
Subject: Out of the Ashes by bellefleur
Source: direct

TITLE: OUT OF THE ASHES
AUTHOR: bellefleur
EMAIL ADDRESS: bellefleur1013@yahoo.com
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: sure
RATING: PG-13
CLASSIFICATION: S, A
KEYWORDS: MSR
DISCLAIMER: Not mine; they belong to CC, FOX, etc.
SUMMARY: A year after renewing their vows, Mulder and Scully 
receive new information about their son's disappearance, 
reuniting them with old enemies.

Beta thanks: To X-PhileChick#35 (a.k.a. UnderMySkinner) for her 
hard work and kind words.

Notes: This is a sequel to "Hearts on the Mend."  You might be 
able to read this without having read that one, but why would 
you want to? :) You can find Hearts at Gossamer or my website:

www.geocities.com/bellefleur1013/HeartsComplete.html
www.geocities.com/bellefleur1013/HeartsComplete.txt



********
Prologue
********

Letting the front door swing shut behind him, Mulder tried his 
best not to slam it, but he was certainly in the mood to slam 
something.  As he took off down the street at a faster pace than 
his usual jog, the pounding of his feet against the pavement 
yielded some satisfaction, although he knew his knees would be 
complaining later.  His ears began to sting as he ran head on 
into the brisk autumn breeze, but he welcomed the distraction of 
the pain.

At times like this, Mulder found that the only way he could cope 
was by getting out of the house, and going for a run or shooting 
hoops at the park were the best alternatives to his first 
inclination: numbing his frustration at the local bar.  He and 
Scully had been remarried and living together in her townhouse 
in San Francisco for almost a year now.  Although they had 
worked through many of their previous problems, tensions still 
arose.  And because housing was at a premium in this city, their 
current abode was the tightest quarters they had lived in 
together since they had shared Scully's apartment in Georgetown 
during the first few months of her pregnancy.  In such a limited 
space, it was hard to get away from each other when they fought. 

Out of the corner of his eye, an abrupt movement to his left 
caused Mulder to slow and turn.  It was twilight now and the 
streetlights had just come on.  As he looked around, there was 
no one in sight, and he shook off the familiar feeling of 
paranoia that was once his constant companion.  Their lives had 
been relatively quiet since they had left the X-Files several 
years ago.  They no longer meddled in the affairs of the 
Consortium (although there was little to suggest that this 
organization still existed after the holocaust at El Rico Air 
Force Base), and the lack of interference was apparently mutual. 

Settling back to his original pace, Mulder couldn't help but 
rehash the latest argument that had driven him out of the house.  
It had dealt with their most sensitive subject: children.  It 
was no wonder that this should be such a sore point for them, 
considering that the demise of their first marriage had 
precipitated from the fate of their only son.  One afternoon, 
William had gone missing from a park, in broad daylight and 
under the watchful eye of his mother.  Scully still struggled 
with her guilt over not preventing this, but Mulder had never 
held her responsible for William's abduction and had tried his 
best to communicate that to her.  When their son turned up dead 
at the hands of the serial killer Henry Lee Vinton, the grief 
had torn their marriage apart.  Much love and counseling had 
brought healing to their relationship, but it could never fill 
that empty place that remained in both of their hearts.

Since the move to San Francisco, things had been going so well 
between them that neither of them had been willing to breach 
this sensitive topic--until nature forced it on them.  A few 
months back, Scully had missed her period, and when secondary 
symptoms set in, their emotions had been thrown into turmoil 
with the possibility that she was pregnant again.  It had been 
difficult for them to talk about, but it was evident that Mulder 
was much more excited with this news than his wife.  But their 
burgeoning hope had been in vain.  When Scully finally went to 
see her doctor, she received the news that she was not with 
child but peri-menopausal, and the hopes that had been welling 
up in them were completely dashed. 

After the passage of what he considered to be a reasonable 
amount of time, Mulder brought up the issue of adoption.  He 
wasn't ready to give up on being a father, and he dreamed of 
seeing Scully as a mother again.  The psychologist in him also 
thought that maybe this would be the final step in healing the 
open wounds that still remained after William's death.  However, 
Scully wasn't interested in discussing the option.  Not when he 
first brought it up, and not today.  Although she hadn't said 
the words directly, it was clear that she had no interest in 
becoming a parent again. 

Mulder knew he would do anything for this woman that he loved so 
much, even if it meant never again having the chance to be a 
father, but what he couldn't accept was her refusal to even have 
a reasonable conversation on the topic.  Of course, in her eyes 
she was being completely reasonable; every contention was well 
articulated and she never once raised her voice.  But he felt 
she was only avoiding the real issues beneath the surface, and 
it outraged him that she still held him at arm's length when it 
came to her grief and pain. 

To compound his current distress, Mulder's knees were now 
screaming at him.  He had been pushing himself too hard, and the 
adrenaline that had first shoved him out the door was now 
entirely drained.  He had run only three-quarters of his usual 
circuit around the neighborhood when he slowed to a walk to give 
his aging joints a break.  To his immediate left was a narrow 
alley that lay between two rows of houses; he usually avoided 
this path in favor of a longer run, but on days like this it 
provided a good shortcut back to their street. 

As he came within view of the streetlight directly across from 
their house, Mulder could just make out the silhouette of a man 
standing on the fringe of its pool of light.  The paranoia he 
felt earlier mounted again, along with the hairs on the back of 
his neck.  Slowing his steps to come up behind the man 
undetected, he wished desperately that he had thought to bring 
his gun with him.  Their neighborhood was a safe one, and he had 
never needed the weapon before, but sometimes old habits would 
get the best of him and he would strap on his ankle holster 
before he left the house.  But not today.  He had been too 
distracted to even consider it. 

The twilight and shadows made it difficult to detect much about 
the stranger besides his profile, but it was clear that his face 
was turned in the direction of their house.  The man was 
watching, perhaps waiting for him to return from his run, and 
clearly did not want to be seen.  As the voyeur shifted 
suddenly, Mulder fell back further into the shadows behind him.  
But after a moment of stillness, it was clear that the agent had 
not been spotted.  However, the change in position had brought 
something else to Mulder's attention--the holster at the man's 
hip. 

Using the element of surprise to his advantage, Mulder tackled 
the man from behind and pulled the weapon from his holster 
before he had a chance to reach for it.  The stranger's body hit 
the sidewalk hard as Mulder landed on top of him.  Swiftly 
cocking the gun at his temple, he growled into his ear, "You 
better have a damn good reason for lurking outside of my house 
with a concealed weapon!"

As he was speaking, something out of place registered in 
Mulder's head.  When he landed, he had grabbed one of the man's 
arms and pinned it behind his back.  Only now did he realize why 
this felt strange--the arm wasn't flesh and blood; it was a 
prosthetic. 

Violently flipping the man over on his back to face him and 
pressing the gun back down to his forehead, Mulder found 
confirmation of what his gut already knew. 

It was Krycek. 


*********
Chapter I
*********

Keeping Krycek in front of him and the gun lodged between his 
shoulder blades, Mulder had his erstwhile partner and nemesis 
unlock their door with his good hand, and then he shoved him 
into the foyer. 

"Scully!" 

At first, there was no response.  He had bellowed loud enough 
that he had no doubt she heard him, but when he left the house 
they hadn't been on the best of terms. 

"Scully, I need you in here!" 

This time the stress was unmistakable in his voice, and when his 
wife came bounding down the stairs a moment later, it was with 
her gun in hand.  As she hit the last few steps, she got her 
first glimpse of their visitor now seated in the living room, 
and she slowly entered with a look of confusion on her face. 

Krycek turned to look at her as she approached, but Mulder kept 
his gaze and his gun focused directly on the man seated before 
him.  For the intensity of the agent's stare, their unwelcome 
guest looked much more at ease than he should have. 

"Mulder?"  Scully asked her question with that one word. 

"I found him lurking in the shadows across the street.  He was 
armed.  Somehow I don't think he's here to pay a social call." 

Krycek sneered at him.  "Your hospitality leaves something to be 
desired, Mulder.  And to think, I came all this way to give you 
happy tidings." 

Scully saw Mulder's finger twitch on the trigger and decided 
that it was best not to let the situation get out of hand.  
Stepping toward him, she gently placed her hand over his, and he 
allowed her to lower the gun.  Yielding it to her grip as she 
took up his position standing next to Krycek, he instead seated 
himself in the chair opposite the man. 

Although not raising her voice, Scully made no effort to hide 
her hostility. "What do you want, Krycek?"

"I want to make a deal." 

"A deal?" 

"I have information that you want.  In exchange, I'd like to 
call an armistice of sorts.  I want your guarantee that you 
won't interfere with my plans." 

Mulder scoffed.  "And why would we do that?  You think you can 
bribe us?  No information you give us can erase your past sins 
or shield you from justice." 

"No?  Maybe you should find out what I have to say first." 

Scully took a step back and sat in the vacant armchair behind 
her.  "I'll give you thirty seconds to convince me that your 
information's worth listening to.  After that, you're out of my 
house." 

A smug grin blossomed on Krycek's face.  "Oh, I don't need that 
much time to persuade you to listen.  All I need is five little 
words."  He paused for dramatic effect.  "Your son is still 
alive." 

Mulder suddenly felt very bereft of his weapon, while his wife 
was immensely glad that she had removed it from his possession.  
He towered over Krycek now, grasping his lapel to jerk his face 
toward his own as he bellowed down at him: "What the hell kind 
of game are you playing, Krycek?!  How dare you come into our 
home and toy with us like this!" 

Scully didn't bother to call Mulder off this time, but she 
continued to speak in a level voice.  "Our son was taken by a 
serial killer.  His body was reduced to ashes in a fire.  We 
have the DNA evidence to prove that he's dead." 

"Did you run the DNA tests yourself?"  Krycek was only able to 
squeak out the words as Mulder's grip made it hard for him to 
breath.  He looked toward Scully as he spoke, but his words 
abated her husband's wrath as puzzlement and curiosity settled 
in its place. 

Scully's response was little more than a strained whisper.  
"What do you mean?" 

"You know as well as I do that DNA evidence can be faked.  If 
you didn't do the tests yourself, then how can you be so sure of 
the results?" 

As she looked toward Mulder, who looked back at her in question, 
her voice had a pleading edge to it.  "The tests were run by the 
FBI labs.  I even requested to have them run twice.  They 
wouldn't let me anywhere near the evidence because of my 
personal connection to the case." 

Mulder's hands still held Krycek's jacket loosely as he looked 
back down at the man.  "Are you saying that our son wasn't in 
that fire?" 

Taking advantage of Mulder's loosened grip, Krycek shook himself 
free and settled back in his chair before he replied.  "What I'm 
saying is that your son wasn't taken by a serial killer." 

"It was a cover-up?"  Scully's voice was strained as she forced 
down the emotions that were threatening to boil to the surface.  
Moving away from Krycek now, Mulder did not resume his seat but 
stood by her side and reached for her hand. 

"Didn't it seem a little convenient to you that a serial killer 
who had eluded the police for over two years was so easily 
caught within weeks of your son's disappearance?  And then he 
torched himself and the evidence before you got a chance to 
interview him?  They handed you DNA evidence on a platter, and 
suddenly everything was wrapped up in a neat little package with 
no loose ends, all in less than a month.  Just like they 
wanted." 

"Are you saying, what happened to those other boys was just a 
ruse to hide our son's abduction?"  Mulder couldn't bear to 
consider this option, but he had to know the truth.

"No.  Henry Lee Vinton was exactly what he seemed to be--he had 
already committed those other crimes.  But an old friend of ours 
thought he would make the perfect patsy.  So he helped to cover 
the killer's identity until your son was taken, and then he set 
him up to take the fall.  Vinton didn't kill himself.  He was 
executed, and his house was rigged to burn long before the 
agents showed up with a warrant." 

Scully's voice was now laced with desperation.  "If our son is 
still alive, then where is he?  And why was he taken?" 

The smugness returned to Krycek's countenance.  "Ah, all in good 
time, my dear Dana.  I think I've given you more than enough 
reason to hear me out.  Now it's time to discuss the terms of 
our bargain." 

Mulder took a protective step forward.  "What do you want from 
us, Krycek?  Isn't the agony over our son's loss enough?  Now 
that you've added kidnapping and extortion to your list, you 
want us to turn a blind eye?" 

"I simply want to offer you what's yours in exchange for what's 
mine." 

"What is that?" 

"The right of succession." 

Mulder ran a hand through his hair in exasperation and crossed 
the room to put more distance between himself and the man that 
he really wanted to strangle right now.  "What the hell are you 
talking about?" 

"I'll give you one guess who took your son." 

"The smoking bastard," Mulder spat out with all the contempt he 
held for the man in question. 

"I'm surprised he's still alive," Scully interjected.  "The last 
time I saw him, he looked like he was dying." 

"The last time you saw him, he was looking for a reason to live.  
You gave him one."  Krycek spoke this directly to Scully, as 
though his words should have great import for her.

Mulder's patience was wearing thin.  "Damn it, Krycek!  Quit 
talking in riddles!  Just say what you mean!" 

But Scully's gaze did not waver from her interlocutor's as his 
inference began to sink in.  "He was looking for a legacy."  
Mulder now turned to her in question, and she shifted her focus 
to him while her mind continued to make the connections.  "He 
was looking for an heir." 

There were too many implications here that Mulder didn't want to 
consider.  "Scully, what do you mean?" 

She looked back to Krycek now, who turned to address Mulder.  
"You know about his 'familiarity' with your mother before you 
were born.  Did you ever bother to ask her who your real father 
was?" 

With both fists and teeth clenched, Mulder gritted out his 
response, "What are you saying?" 

But Scully connected the final dots.  "He believes that William 
is his grandson.  That's why he took him.  He wanted an heir."  
Sinking back into her chair, she shook her head at the 
incredulousness of it all. 

Mulder looked from her to Krycek, his skepticism inscribed on 
his face.  He was still waiting to hear the rest of the story.  
"So what's your interest in all this?" 

For the first time all evening, the Russian became agitated.  "I 
want what he owes me," he spat in anger.  "That bastard led me 
on for years, making me believe that if I was a good little 
lackey, I would stand in line to inherit his position.  Even 
after he tried to kill me, and then left me to die in that 
missile silo, I came crawling back to him when he regained his 
power so that I would be next in line.  Then I stood by and 
watched him offer that power to his son, no questions asked, and 
even when Jeffrey failed him, I remained obedient.  I did his 
dirty work.  I put myself on the line.  I covered his mistakes 
and earned the respect of the elders.  And all that was for 
nothing!  As soon as he saw another chance to pass the torch to 
his own flesh and blood, he snatched it.  He left me to rot in a 
prison camp in Tunisia to get me out of his way.  But I'm back 
now, and I want what's mine." 

Scully spoke quietly in counterpoint to Krycek's vehemence.  
"And what do you want from us?" 

"I want you to take him down, once and for all."  He then turned 
to address Mulder.  "And I don't want you to stand in my way 
when I take his place." 

The picture was now complete.  The sycophantic servant who had 
been double-crossed sought his revenge by betraying his master's 
secret and watching that man's nemesis take him down.  He wanted 
to claim the throne of a crumbling kingdom, and none there 
coveted his prize. 

From across the room, the spouses held a silent conversation 
with their eyes.  When Scully lowered hers, Mulder spoke their 
verdict.  "We need specific details about where our son is being 
held so that we can verify this information.  And we'll need 
time to consider your offer." 

At Krycek's nod, Scully handed him a pad of paper and a pen.  He 
scribbled down a few words and then handed it back to her.  
Rising from his chair, he extended his good hand toward her, 
palm upturned.  She retrieved his gun from the table behind her 
and placed it in his hand, but not without confiscating the clip 
first.  He snickered in appreciation of this move and holstered 
the weapon before seeing himself out. 

The silence was deafening in his wake as the partners were left 
alone to consider his words.  Scully's eyes were fixed on the 
tablet in her hands as she finally asked, "Do you believe him?" 

Looking up now at her husband to await his response, the turmoil 
in his eyes was all the answer she needed. 

Crossing the room to her, he reached out his hand, and she 
passed over the scrawling that Krycek had left behind.  After 
looking it over, he said, "I think it's time we called some old 
friends."


**********
Chapter II
**********

The last few days since Krycek's visit had been rather stressful 
around the cramped townhouse.  The couple's first move had been 
to call the Lone Gunmen and ask them to run down the information 
that Krycek had given them, but the ensuing wait had been 
excruciating.  They were people of action, and if their son was 
really alive and in the hands of their enemy, the last thing 
they wanted to do was refrain from intervention for even one 
more day. 

On the evening of the fourth day, Scully abandoned the book she 
wasn't really reading and went downstairs to find her husband, 
who was flipping channels on the TV he wasn't really watching. 

"Have you heard anything yet?" 

"I called a while ago, but all I got was the answering machine.  
Frohike said they'd call as soon as they had anything definite." 

"I know, but I didn't expect it to take them this--"

She was brought up short by a knock on the door.  With a 
questioning glance at Mulder, who sat up from his reclined 
position but merely responded to her query with his own raised 
brows, she walked over to the door and cautiously looked through 
the peephole.  What she saw there brought an immediate response, 
as she yanked on the handle and launched into her visitors 
before the door was fully open. 

"We were expecting you guys to call.  Do you know how long we've 
been sitting around waiting?" 

Frohike didn't wait for an invitation before pushing past her to 
enter the room.  "Well, hello to you, my dear.  And yes, you're 
very welcome that we came all this way to give you the news in 
person.  Now, would you like to offer me something to drink?" 

While Byers and Langly stepped through the open door much more 
politely, Mulder came over and gave his audacious buddy a warm 
hug.  "You're either very brave or very stupid, my man.  You 
really shouldn't push your luck." 

They both turned back to Scully to see her glaring at them, her 
arms crossed over her chest.  Frohike moved to pull her into a 
hug, which she deliberately evaded as she moved past him to 
greet their other guests. 

"Byers, Langly, make yourself at home.  Would you like something 
to drink?" 

Both stood there dumbly, not sure how best to respond, but 
Mulder just chuckled quietly and then extended his hand toward 
the living room to encourage them to have a seat.  He let Scully 
follow the three before he brought up the rear, placing a 
comforting hand on her back as they entered the room together. 

When all were seated, Mulder addressed their visitors.  "Well, 
boys, you didn't come all this way just to tell us you didn't 
find anything." 

Byers took the lead while Langly pulled out a laptop and opened 
it on the coffee table.  "As we suspected, both William and 
Spender are living under aliases, so it took us a while to track 
down the most likely candidates from the limited information 
that Krycek provided.  But we think we've located your son." 

Langly turned the computer in their direction and picked up the 
narrative while the partners leaned in to look at the screen.  
"This is the record we pulled up from a private school in 
Cambridge, North Carolina.  The boy's name is William Kuipers--"

Mulder's eyes shot up at the sound of his mother's maiden name, 
bringing Langly up short.  Mulder turned to his wife and 
muttered, "Interesting choice," before returning his attention 
to the screen and gesturing for the speaker to continue. 

"His birthdate matches William's, and his parents are listed as 
deceased."  Langly paused briefly and looked at the two for 
further reaction, but they were quietly stewing rather than 
surprised by this information.  "His legal guardian is a Richard 
Johnson." 

Mulder piped up again.  "That's a nice generic name." 

Frohike now jumped in.  "We thought so, too.  As you can 
imagine, we couldn't find much on him that didn't relate 
directly to William's guardianship, but we did find an address.  
It's an estate outside of town." 

While Mulder was engaged with Frohike, Scully had been reading 
through the record on the computer screen.  Scrolling down to 
the bottom, she saw a link to the boy's school photo, and a hand 
on Mulder's knee brought his attention back to the computer.  
Her eyes met his in question, and he nodded.  As they both 
turned to the screen, she clicked on the link. 

Looking back at them from the screen was the face of a sweet 
little boy with strawberry blond hair and hazel eyes.  The 
chubby baby fat they remembered was gone as the once familiar 
face was now a little older and leaner.  Neither could look away 
from his piercing gaze and toothy smile. 

Scully felt Mulder grab on tightly to her hand that was still on 
his knee.  The tears glistening in her eyes blurred the image 
before her, and she leaned forward as though to see him more 
clearly and reached out her free hand to caress the screen. 

Mulder cleared his throat to find his voice again and looked 
back up at Frohike.  "What's that address?"  But a tug at his 
hand caused him to turn his head before he heard the reply. 

"Mulder, I know that looks like him, but we have to verify this 
before we can do anything.  We have to prove that it's him." 

It was times like this that he really resented Scully's 
reasonable nature, but he was also grateful she was thinking 
clearly.  He knew she was right; this was too important to make 
a mistake.  He nodded his acquiescence but added, "Either way, 
we're headed for North Carolina." 

He turned back to Frohike again.  "We'll need that address and a 
copy of these files." 

But his friend threw his hands up to deter him.  "Not so fast 
there, buddy.  We're going with you." 

Scully was the one to voice their incredulity first.  "What?" 

Byers replied, "That's why we came here in person.  This is 
important to us, too, and we all agreed--we want to be there to 
help bring William home." 

Scully looked over at Mulder to see how he felt about this 
development, and he just shrugged in response.  "You never know, 
they might come in handy." 

She glanced at each of her new partners in turn, seeing the same 
hope in each of their eyes, and then she sighed.  "North 
Carolina, here we come." 


***********
Chapter III
***********

"I'm not sure this was such a good idea.  Nothing against 
Langly, but--"

"It's done, Scully.  Quit second-guessing it.  The rest of us 
are too easy to recognize.  You dress Goldilocks up like Byers, 
on the other hand, and not even his closest friends would know 
him." 

"But what about this woman they brought in?  Is she 
trustworthy?" 

"Honestly, I have no idea.  I've never met Yves before.  But you 
know how paranoid these guys are.  I have to trust their 
judgment on this." 

Scully dropped her protests, supplanted by a heavy sigh, and 
turned her attention to the front window.  She was seated in the 
driver's seat of a "delivery" van they had requisitioned from 
the local field office, watching the outside of the Brookfield 
Academy for any signs of trouble.  Mulder was seated to her 
right, and the back of the van--separated from them by a 
divider--was occupied by two of their cohorts, manning the 
equipment that kept them in contact with their undercover team. 

The scheme had so far progressed without complications, which 
put Scully even more on edge, since things seldom went smoothly 
for them.  The goal was to retrieve a sample of William Kuiper's 
DNA for comparison against that of their son.  The strategy was 
to send in a pair incognito, posing as a dentist and his 
assistant, who would give the first graders an important lesson 
on dental hygiene.  Once inside, the objective was to identify 
William and obtain a swab of his mouth through the guise of 
personalized attention to each child's brushing technique.  The 
school had been contacted and obligingly set up a time for the 
visit, and now the team was in place and would hopefully pull 
off the charade without a hitch. 

Turning her attention away from the school, Scully looked over 
at her husband.  He was gazing out the side window, the constant 
bouncing of his knee a testimony to the nervous energy he'd been 
exuding ever since their plane landed. 

As though he could sense her scrutiny, he spoke without turning 
in her direction. 

"What's the first thing you want to do when we bring him home?"  
At her protracted silence, he answered the question for himself.  
"I keep thinking about this, about all the things we've missed 
that I want to make up for, and I can't decide what I want to do 
first.  Take him to the park to play catch?  Go to the zoo, or 
the science museum?  Or maybe just sit at home and play Legos or 
lincoln logs?  Do they even make those things anymore?  Lincoln 
logs?  It's been so long since I've been in a toy store that I'm 
not even sure what the latest fad is.  I'm sure he'll be quick 
to tell us." 

Mulder stopped rambling and looked over at his partner.  Her 
face was turned away from his, but he could see that her profile 
was as impassive as ever.  This was her game face, her special 
agent face, not the face of an anxious mother. 

"Scully?" 

She didn't look at him but dropped her gaze to her hands in her 
lap, so that her hair fell forward to partially obscure her 
countenance. 

"I'm sorry.  I guess I just haven't thought that far ahead." 

The nervous energy subsided as he spoke to her in a softened 
tone.  "You're afraid to admit it's true, aren't you?" 

"I can't allow myself to hope yet.  I'm afraid of the emotions 
it will unleash.  I need to have the proof before I can let 
myself believe it." 

"Scully."  Her name was an entreaty, and she dutifully looked 
into his solemn eyes.  "It's him.  I can feel it.  I know it in 
my heart.  This"--he gestured with his hand to indicate their 
current situation--"is just a formality." 

Rather than responding, she looked back toward the entrance of 
the school.  Her own eyes were troubled, the only indication of 
the turbulence that brewed beneath the surface. 

"I just can't help but wonder...."

Mulder remained quiet for a moment to let her continue, but when 
she didn't, he prodded her.  "What?" 

As her eyes turned back toward his, they glimmered with unshed 
tears.  "What if we hadn't stopped looking?" 

He sighed and reached over to take her hand, which she yielded 
reluctantly.  "We can't think like that.  It won't do us any 
good.  We had no reason to believe he was still alive.  And you 
said it yourself--we didn't just accept the results at face 
value but asked for the DNA to be run a second time.  The only 
thing we're guilty of is being duped and manipulated again.  We 
didn't abandon our son." 

Scully's demeanor and lack of response showed that she wasn't 
ready to assent to his reasoning.  In lieu of her child, the 
guilt gave her something to cling to, something almost tangible 
to cradle to her bosom and nurture as it grew.  It was foreign 
to her that Mulder should be the one so at peace while the guilt 
weighted her down, yet it seemed only fitting that he should 
remain her polar opposite in this as in all else. 

A quick rap on the panel behind them drew their attention.  It 
was succeeded by Frohike's muffled voice through the opening.  
"They're on their way out.  Keep an eye out for trouble." 

Both agents went into professional mode and were immediately on 
alert.  The dental duo soon passed through the double doors and 
down the front stairs, walking at a measured pace that betrayed 
both their desire for a hasty retreat and their attempt at 
illusory nonchalance.  They made it to the parking lot without 
incident and piled into a rental car. 

As the vehicle turned out of the lot and passed by them, Scully 
waited for a beat to see if they were being tailed before she 
started the engine and cautiously proceeded to the rendezvous 
point. 

* * *

After the team held a brief conference about their operation, 
Scully rushed the swab off to a local lab to run the tests 
herself.  It was a slow and tedious process, punctuated by 
agonizing waits that were necessary for accurate results.  Her 
patience and meticulousness finally paid off, however, and she 
eagerly compared the data not only to their son's DNA but also 
to her own and Mulder's for confirmation.  Once she was sure of 
the verdict, all that remained was for her to deliver the news 
to the anxious group assembled back at the motel. 

Scully turned the key in the door and opened it to the following 
tableau: Mulder was sprawled on his stomach facing the wrong way 
on the bed, watching a baseball game on TV; Frohike and Langly 
were seated at the table opposite each other with laptops open, 
as though playing Battleship; Byers was perched primly on the 
edge of the second bed with a political biography in hand; and 
all four faces turned toward her simultaneously in expectation 
as she entered and then quietly shut the door behind her. 

There was only one thing to say.  "It's him." 

Frohike and Langly high-fived each other across the table, and 
Byers heaved a pleased sigh, while Mulder bounded off the bed 
and had Scully within his embrace before she even knew what hit 
her.  She had managed to remain stoic throughout the testing and 
the drive back, but in the security of his arms, she finally 
dropped the barriers in exhaustion from having maintained them 
for so long.  She held him fiercely as the silent tears flowed 
freely down her cheeks. 

Scully barely registered the excited chatter that had sparked 
around them as the Gunmen began to lay plans for their next 
step. 

"...grab him from the playground during recess--"

"We can't just kidnap him, Langly.  They'll report it to the 
cops and come looking for us.  We need a more reasoned course of 
action." 

"What we need is firepower.  We should storm the castle.  Take 
him right out from under Ol' Smokey's nose." 

"And risk harming him?  That's hardly a reasonable option, 
Frohike." 

"Alright, wise guy, what 'reasonable course of action' do you 
have in mind?" 

"We should take this directly to the courts.  This man certainly 
has no legal right to custody.  This is our chance to expose 
him.  As soon as we prove William's true identity, the courts 
will have to concede--"

"You know it would never get that far.  Smokey would be long 
gone before it even went to trial, and he'd take William right 
along with him.  Our only chance is to act fast, before he's on 
to us.  We should go in tonight." 

"It'll keep until tomorrow."  The three heads turned at the 
sound of Mulder's voice, and for the first time they noticed the 
private moment across the room.  Scully's head was still buried 
in her husband's chest, and his arms remained wrapped 
protectively around her.  "Let's reconvene in the morning.  Then 
we can decide where to go from here." 

Without further comment, the trio respectfully gathered their 
belongings and exited the room in silence.  Only once the door 
clicked shut behind them did Scully dare to reveal her splotchy 
face and survey the damage to Mulder's shirt.  She absent-
mindedly started rubbing at the dampened spots, as though that 
would somehow dry them, while she spoke in a weary voice. 

"I'm not even sure why I'm crying--if I'm happy to have found 
him, or sad for the time we've lost, or just feeling sorry for 
myself.  I just--I feel like...like this is all a dream.  And I 
don't want to wake up." 

Mulder raised a hand to her face to brush away the remaining 
tears while the other arm continued to hold her firmly against 
him.  "It's not a dream, Scully, it's a nightmare.  Just another 
one to add to the list.  And we're going to end it.  We're going 
to end it and take back our son, and we're going to drive the 
nightmares away." 

She looked up at him with a childlike trust and innocence.  
"How?" 

His roving hand settled against her cheek as his determined gaze 
fixed on her eyes.  "I don't know, but we'll find a way.  We 
have to." 


**********
Chapter IV
**********

Breakfast brought a barrage of opinions, many of them 
regurgitated from the night before.  The guys had apparently 
continued their conversation in their own motel room but failed 
to come to any consensus. 

Scully remained relatively silent and distant throughout the 
conference, and Mulder's attention was peripherally focused on 
her while he considered and shot down the various options 
presented.  He finally ordained that the best strategy would be 
for the threesome to spend the day on surveillance and data-
gathering in order to provide a full accounting of William's 
daily agenda and movements.  With that complete portrait they 
would be in a better position to make an informed decision. 

Of course, his secondary motivation had been to get them out of 
the way so he could tend to his wife.  He knew she hadn't slept 
much the night before, constantly tossing and turning as though 
her thoughts wouldn't allow her respite.  He knew it would be 
useless to try to persuade her to take a nap, but he could at 
least provide her with the privacy she needed to process her 
emotions and regain her equilibrium.

After finally convincing her to stay at the motel and rest, 
Mulder took off with his own agenda for the day.  The Gunmen 
were occupied with the school and the nanny, so Mulder decided 
to head for the Johnson estate to map out the territory. 

Anticipating heavy security around the house, he was surprised 
to find that Cancerman had opted to go low profile.  There were 
no gates barring the winding driveway or "No Trespassing" signs 
dotting the property lines.  There was simply a sprawling 
homestead on a well-manicured acre of land, surrounded on all 
sides by reforested pines.  The scene was quiet and private, 
isolated and unobtrusive--exactly the kind of place where Mulder 
would love to raise his own child. 

Because traffic was obviously rare on this country road, he 
couldn't risk turning in the driveway or parking on the street 
after his initial drive by, so he looked for the first service 
road he could find, drove far enough in to be out of sight of 
the road, and then parked and doubled-back through the forest on 
foot.  He was less than a mile away from the property, and so an 
easy jog soon brought him within sight of the house. 

Crouching down in the brush just inside the edge of the woods, 
Mulder pulled out his binoculars to get a closer look.  There 
were currently no signs of life, but the well-kept yard 
testified to a gardener--or a whole team of gardeners--and he 
thought it would be best to just watch for a while in case 
someone emerged from the house or one of the small outbuildings.  
Once he felt more secure that no one would notice his presence, 
he would take a walk around the perimeter of the property.  This 
would give him a good idea of the layout, but if necessary, he 
could also have the guys obtain the blueprints. 

Engrossed as he was in these thoughts, he failed to notice the 
ominous snapping of twigs behind him until it was accompanied by 
the distinctive click of a safety being disengaged and the 
sensation of cold metal against his forehead. 

"You're slipping, Mulder.  I could've shot you from 50 yards 
away and you never would've known what hit you." 

He answered his captor, not with fear but contempt.  "You're not 
that good of a shot, Krycek."  Ignoring the gun at his temple, 
Mulder turned to look him in the face.  "I should've known you'd 
show up sooner or later.  What do you want?" 

"I want you to follow through with your end of the agreement." 

"We haven't made any agreement." 

"And after my show of good faith?  You can't afford to have me 
as your enemy right now.  One word to Mr. Johnson there, and 
William will be whisked away again.  Who knows how many years it 
will take you to find him next time." 

"Or, I could just kill you now, and then I'd never have to worry 
about what you might report to 'Mr. Johnson.'"

"You should know better than that, Mulder.  Who's to say there 
isn't a letter waiting for him inside right now that he'll 
definitely receive unless I'm alive to make sure he doesn't?" 

Mulder just scoffed at him as he leaned back off his haunches 
and sat on the ground to settle in for this conversation.  "Cut 
the crap.  You just made that up to keep me from wasting your 
sorry ass." 

"Maybe.  But are you willing to call my bluff?"  At the lack of 
response, Krycek smugly continued, "Or are you ready to start 
negotiations?" 

Mulder glared at the man, making no effort to mask his disdain.  
"What do you want from me?" 

"Just a show of good faith, like I offered you." 

* * *

It was late afternoon when Mulder returned to the motel.  He 
entered the room quietly, hoping that Scully would be resting, 
but he wasn't surprised to see her seated at the table with her 
laptop open.  She looked only slightly more rested than when he 
left, and he suspected that she hadn't actually slept in his 
absence.  However, he also knew that asking her about it 
probably wouldn't yield a straight answer, so he decided to keep 
the conversation on more neutral ground.  

"Any news yet from the guys?"

Scully sat back in her chair and watched Mulder collapse onto 
the bed and absently grab for the remote out of habit, although 
he made no move to turn on the TV.  "Byers stopped by a while 
ago to drop off the background information on the nanny.  There 
isn't really much to note, and nothing I can see that will work 
to our advantage.  The other two were planning to hang around 
the school until William was picked up and then follow him home 
to see what route they take.  They'll call when they get to the 
house to see if we want them to hold there or come back to the 
motel.  In the meantime, I sent Byers out to pick up some 
dinner.  I hope Chinese is okay."

Mulder couldn't help but smile slightly at the nostalgia of this 
situation.  It had been quite a while since he and Scully had 
been FBI partners, and even longer since they had been on the 
road together.  But the two of them making plans over takeout in 
a generic motel room was incredibly familiar.  He let his eyes 
slip closed to bask in that memory of happier days.  "Chinese is 
fine.  And we should tell the guys to head back right away.  The 
estate is pretty isolated.  There's no way they could stake it 
out without raising suspicion--especially those two hippies."

"Well, if that road doesn't get much traffic, it could work to 
our advantage.  What else did you find out?"

Mulder kept his eyes shut, feigning fatigue.  It was so much 
easier to hide things from Scully if he could avoid eye contact 
with her.  "Just the basic layout of the property.  I'll sketch 
out a rough map for everybody when the guys get back."


*********
Chapter V
*********

This was only their second day of "teamwork," but Scully already 
understood why she preferred working with only one partner.  An 
argument between two people was much simpler than an argument 
between five.  And when four of them were male and just loved to 
hear themselves spout their own opinions....

"Enough!"

Silence reigned for the first time in an hour as four stunned 
faces turned in her direction.  In that hour, they had rehashed 
one idea after another about how to confiscate William, and none 
had met with everyone's satisfaction.  Scully was tired, 
emotionally drained, and on the verge of a migraine from the 
raised voices.  She was a woman not to be crossed, and 
thankfully everyone in the room now realized it.

Finally in control again, she rose and began to pace, gently 
massaging her neck as she spoke.  "This is how it's going to be.  
Tomorrow afternoon, we let the nanny pick up William from school 
as scheduled.  Two of you will pose as police officers and be 
waiting on a secluded stretch of road to pull her over for a 
traffic violation.  I'll give you something to knock her out.  
Once she's unconscious, you'll bring both of them back to the 
motel.  William should recognize you, so he'll know it's okay to 
go with you.  After he's safely in our custody, you'll stay here 
and watch him while Mulder and I return the nanny to the house 
and collect William's things."

"How are we going to deal with Spender?"  Frohike was the one to 
ask, but the same question was weighing on everyone's minds.  

"You let Mulder and me worry about that.  Now, I'm tired, and we 
have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, so I think we should call 
it a night."

No one dared to voice a protest, so the threesome packed up 
their notes and equipment, speaking only in hushed tones as they 
made their exit.  Scully watched in amusement as they tiptoed 
around her, as though she might explode at the slightest noise.  
It was amazing what power she could wield when she wanted to, 
and she didn't feel the slightest bit guilty for exploiting it 
as their party of five finally dwindled to two.

Mulder followed their friends to the door and chained it behind 
them before turning his attention to his wife.  She was now 
slumped over on the end of the bed, still rubbing the kinks out 
of her neck, so he dutifully took up position behind her and 
replaced her hands with his own.

As Scully gladly melted into his touch, the only sounds now 
filling the room were her occasional sighs and hums of pleasure.  
Only once she was much more relaxed did Mulder pick up the 
conversation again.  

"So, what *are* we going to do about Spender?"

Sighing, Scully dipped her head more to the right to give him 
access to a knot in her left shoulder.  "Actually, I was more 
concerned with what we're going to do about Krycek.  I'm 
surprised we haven't heard from him yet.  It makes me worried 
that he's just setting us up, and I'm not sure what to do about 
that."

The hands on her shoulders slowed, and there was no response 
from behind her.  Scully immediately knew something was up and 
turned her head to look back.

"Mulder?"  He still didn't answer right away but tried to resume 
the backrub, so she pulled away from him and turned around 
completely.  "Is there something you'd like to share with me?"

It was Mulder's turn to sigh as he pushed up off the bed and 
followed her earlier course around the room.  After only one and 
a half circuits he ran his fingers through his hair and pulled 
up short to face her.

"I ran into Krycek today."

"And?"

Mulder moved to the bureau opposite her and leaned his weight 
against it.  "And, he wanted me to agree to his terms or he 
would tell Spender that we're on to him."

"And what were those terms?"  From the flatness of Scully's 
voice, it was apparent to both of them that she didn't expect to 
like what she heard.

"After we have William, he wants us to confront Spender.  He 
wants him to know that we've taken our son back, that his plan 
has failed.  And then, he wants him taken out."

"Krycek wants you to kill Spender?"

Mulder only nodded slightly, his eyes averted.

"And you've already agreed to this?"

He didn't nod this time but only raised his gaze to hers.  

"How do you feel about that?"  Her voice was gentle now and full 
of nothing but compassion.

Mulder looked down again and shrugged, trying his best to 
maintain an air of apathy, for both their sakes.  "There's no 
question that the man deserves to die for everything he's done.  
I've held a gun to his head before."

"But you didn't pull the trigger."

When Mulder answered, his voice had grown rough with emotion.  
"If I had, none of this would've ever happened."

* * *

In the familiar ebb and flow of their relationship, now that 
Mulder's guilt was waxing again, Scully felt hers waning.  They 
agreed to leave their planning for the morning and fell into bed 
emotionally exhausted.  In need of each other's touch to ground 
them as they prepared for such a momentous day, the pair soothed 
each other into sleep with reassuring whispers and loving 
caresses.  

Just after midnight, the silence of the room was pierced by the 
shrill ring of a cell phone.  Without hesitation, Scully quickly 
extracted herself from Mulder's arms and was able to grab the 
offending object from the table and silence it in the middle of 
the second ring.  She had obviously been trying to keep it from 
waking Mulder, but to no avail.  He sleepily rolled over and 
buried his head in the pillow she had just abandoned as he heard 
her answer.

"Hello?...Yeah, hi.  Thanks for calling me back....No, it's no 
problem...."

Mulder's mind was now alert as he tried to figure out who would 
be calling her, and he rolled over to realize that she had taken 
the phone into the bathroom and closed the door.  He could still 
hear the muted murmur of her voice but could no longer make out 
distinct words.  

When he felt the mattress dip next to him, Mulder opened his 
eyes and realized that he must have been dozing.  A glance at 
the clock confirmed that it had been almost twenty minutes since 
Scully had first answered the phone.

"Who was that?"

"Don't worry about it.  Go back to sleep."

Now she had his attention.  He looked over at her, where she had 
settled on her side facing him, but with her eyes closed.  "You 
were obviously expecting a call.  Who was it?"

Scully rolled over and answered him over her shoulder in an 
exasperated tone.  "Mulder, can we just talk about it in the 
morning?"

He propped himself up on one elbow to face her.  "No, I want to 
talk about it now.  You obviously don't want to tell me or you 
wouldn't be making such a big deal out of it."

After a pause, she turned over onto her back and finally looked 
at him in the dim lighting.  "It was Roger, okay?  I left a 
message for him earlier, and he was just returning my call."

Mulder's voice was now full of hostility--or more precisely, 
alpha male territoriality--at the mention of the name, as Scully 
knew it would be.  "What about?"

Scully closed her eyes in frustration.  She had only gone out on 
one date with Roger during the time she had been divorced from 
Mulder, but her continued friendship with the man remained a 
sore spot.  Keeping her voice as conciliatory as possible, she 
answered: "The man is a child psychologist.  I was simply asking 
his advice on how to handle what is bound to be a traumatic 
situation for our son."

"Your *husband* happens to be trained in psychology, too.  I 
think I can take care of my own son without Roger's 
intervention."

Opening her eyes, she graced him with an eye roll.  "Mulder, 
you're being ridiculous about this.  I don't know how many times 
I have to tell you that Roger is not a threat to you.  Besides, 
knowing a child psychologist will prove to be incredibly 
beneficial when we get home.  You and I certainly needed plenty 
of counseling to get through this.  You can't expect that 
William won't, too.  Roger's already agreed to see him once we 
get back--"

"No."

"Mulder--"

"No, not Roger.  I agree that he may need to talk to someone, 
but it has to be somebody else."

"Fine."  Scully rolled away from him again and settled into her 
pillow.  She was by no means done with this conversation, but it 
could wait until they got home.

For a long moment, there was no movement, and then she finally 
felt Mulder drop back down to the mattress.  She had almost 
drifted off to sleep when an arm wrapped around her waist and a 
warm body settled in behind her back.  She knew it was the 
closest thing she would get to an apology, and she had learned 
to accept even such limited gestures.  Threading her fingers 
through his, she pulled their linked hands close to her heart 
and let the rhythm of his breath lull her into a dreamless 
slumber.  


**********
Chapter VI
**********

Once again, the two agents were reduced to waiting, and it was 
driving them nuts.  Since they had decided that it was too risky 
to reveal their presence too soon, and might be too confusing 
for William, they were resigned to depending on their cohorts to 
pull off the "abduction" (as Scully insisted on calling it--
concerned that it might be reported as such if the nanny was not 
properly anesthetized--although the rest of them preferred the 
term "rescue operation").

The morning had been spent gathering the resources necessary to 
carry out their ruse.  Their badges allowed them certain 
liberties in acquiring the proper disguises for an undercover 
operation, although they had to fudge a little on the paperwork.  
They only hoped that if anyone followed up and called Skinner--
whom they had listed as their S.A.C. for this operation--he 
would be gracious enough to cover for them.  They could explain 
themselves to him later.

If all was currently going according to plan, Byers and Frohike 
were dressed as cops and waiting in an unmarked car to pull over 
William's nanny on the way back to the estate.  Langly's job was 
to park at a distance where he could watch and then serve as 
backup if anything went wrong.  

The most difficult and unpredictable variable, however, was 
William himself.  There was no way to take the boy without him 
somehow being traumatized by the situation.  Mulder and Scully 
just hoped that he would recognize Byers and Frohike, whom he 
had known by name (or at least, in his childish locution, as 
"Byes" and "Froggie").  If these two could earn his trust, then 
perhaps the transition might go a little more smoothly.

But it didn't make the wait any less excruciating.  After some 
terse words from Scully, Mulder had abandoned his incessant 
channel-flipping for a similar assault of the mouse as he 
ostensibly played solitaire on the laptop.  And after an equally 
terse retort from Mulder, Scully had abandoned her incessant 
pacing for a deliberately motionless pose on the bed as she 
switched on a news channel and then tossed the remote away from 
her reach.

When he finally looked up from the computer screen and glanced 
over at his wife, Mulder's frustration gave way to compassion.  
Scully's knees were drawn up close to her chest, held there by 
hands clasped so tightly that her knuckles were turning white, 
while her eyes stared unseeing at the television set.  She 
looked as tense as he felt, and he realized that once again they 
were working against each other when all they wanted in the end 
was the same thing.

Shutting the computer, he positioned himself on the bed behind 
her and gently pulled her back into his embrace.  At first she 
resisted a little, but then he felt the tension begin to drain 
away as she yielded and let her body melt back into his.  When 
he saw her eyes close, he reached over to grab the remote and 
silenced the final distraction in the room.

He spoke quietly into her ear.  "I have complete faith that the 
guys can pull this off.  If something had gone wrong, Langly 
would've called us by now."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

Stretching his head around, Mulder looked her in the face.  
"What, then?"

Scully sighed, her eyes remaining closed.  "William."

Mulder understood what she meant, but he waited for her to 
elaborate.

Opening her eyes now, Scully continued to face forward.  "We're 
ripping him away from the world that he knows, and as much as I 
want him back, I can't help but wonder if we're doing the right 
thing.  What if he doesn't want to go home with us?  What if he 
thinks that we abandoned him and that we don't love him anymore?  
It's hard enough for me to understand what's happened here, so I 
can't even imagine how difficult it will be for him."

"Kids are often better at adapting to changes than adults are.  
If he's been told that we're dead, he might have some difficulty 
accepting that we're real, and that we're here to stay, but I 
don't think he'll doubt our love for him."

Scully turned in his arms now to look plaintively at him.  "But 
what if he doesn't want to go with us, Mulder?  Are we going to 
force him?  Is that really the best thing for William?"

"In the long run, yes.  I don't think that Spender would 
physically harm him, but we both know that in time he would 
poison his mind.  And it would be just as reprehensible to allow 
our son to be raised in that environment as to leave him with a 
child abuser."

Closing her eyes against this truth, Scully resignedly slumped 
back into his embrace.  "I know, and that's not what I want.  
But we might have to at least consider bringing the nanny with 
us.  She's his primary caregiver right now, and she may be the 
only one that he'll really trust."

The words rung far too true and painful as they lingered between 
them in the stale air of the motel room.  Trust was as vital to 
them as breathing, and the thought that they may have lost the 
trust of their own son because of the lies of the enemy pierced 
them to the core.

Silence reigned as each became lost in thought, but their 
previous anxiety had been replaced with the temporary peace of 
one another's embrace.  They knew it was but the eye in their 
storm, but it was this stillness that enabled them to 
reestablish their bearings before the next onslaught.  They had 
needed such peace so badly after the disappearance of their son, 
but it cost them much time and effort to actually find it.

The silence was broken by an abrupt knock on the door.  The 
partners both tensed in anticipation, but neither moved just 
yet.

"It's Frohike.  Anybody home?"

Their inaction was finally over as the two scrambled for the 
door.  Mulder reached the knob first and wasted no time in 
turning it.  Eagerly anticipating their son, the pair was 
surprised to find themselves staring back at Frohike alone.  
Before they could start asking questions, however, a movement 
behind him caught their attention.

Without a word, Frohike, looking very unnatural still clad in 
the blue police uniform, looked down to his side as he gently 
pulled forward the young boy clinging to his hand.  It was the 
first time that the two parents had seen him in person since the 
day he disappeared, but the moment they laid eyes on him, they 
had no doubts that he was their son.

Scully immediately dropped to her knees, bringing her down to 
the boy's height, and extended her arms toward him.  Through 
eyes blurred with tears, she watched as he drew back from her 
and nestled closer to Frohike's side.  She tried her best to 
hide her disappointment and remain understanding as to how 
disarming this must be for him, but his reaction still hurt her 
deeply.  The comforting hand behind her, now stroking her hair, 
was able to soothe that hurt only slightly.

None of the adults spoke yet, waiting, rather, to see if 
William's shyness would abate.  After a long moment of watching 
the couple in the doorway while continuing to shield himself 
behind his protector, he looked up to Frohike and broke the 
silence.

"Is this heaven?"

Taken aback by the question, it took Frohike a moment to 
respond.  "No, Will.  What makes you think that?"

"Grandpa said Mommy and Daddy are in heaven."

Scully could no longer contain her silent tears as the knife 
within her twisted deeper.  But as Frohike looked at the two, 
unsure how to answer the boy, she was the one who spoke.

"No, William.  But for a long time, your daddy and I thought you 
were in heaven, and we missed you very much.  As soon as we 
found out you were here, we came for you right away."

As the child processed this quietly, the other three watched and 
waited.  When it seemed he had finally accepted the truth of 
this, he started to pull away from Frohike and moved toward his 
mother.

"Mommy?"

Wasting no more time, Scully reached for him and pulled him into 
her embrace.  No longer hesitant, he willingly came to her and 
threw his small arms around her neck.  She spoke soothingly into 
his ear as she held him tight with one arm and gently stroked 
his head with the other.

"Yes, William, we're here now.  It's okay.  Everything will be 
okay."

Thus far, Mulder had been restraining himself, knowing how 
important it was for Scully to make this initial connection with 
her son.  Now, though, he could no longer hold back.  Dropping 
to his knees alongside them, he wrapped his family into his 
tight embrace.  His paternal instinct taking over, he joined in 
chorus with Scully's crooning to the boy.

"We love you so much, Will.  We've missed you so much."

Frohike knew there was important work left to be done, but he 
also understood that these three needed some time together 
first.  Feeling like an intruder on the private moment, he 
quietly walked away and returned to where he had left his two 
buddies guarding the unconscious nanny.  He knew that Mulder and 
Scully would know where to find them when they were ready to 
move forward with the plan.


***********
Chapter VII
***********

Mulder was leaning against the car chatting with Byers when 
Scully finally appeared.  She had left Frohike and Langly in the 
room; the trio would now stand watch over the boy so that his 
parents could head for the "Johnson" estate and finally bring 
this matter to its conclusion.

As Scully approached, Mulder couldn't help but take note of her 
body language.  The woman he left behind in the motel room was 
an emotional mother; the woman who strode toward him now was a 
special agent who meant business.  She wasted no time in putting 
things in motion as soon as she was within earshot.

"Is the nanny in the car?"

Pushing away from the vehicle, Mulder took a step forward to 
meet her.  "Yeah, we moved her to our backseat, but I'm not sure 
how much longer she's going to be out.  We may need to give her 
another shot."

"No, I don't want to compromise her health by administering a 
third dose.  Besides, I want to get this over with as soon as 
possible.  I intend to be back here in time to tuck William into 
bed."  Her attention now shifted to Byers as she continued with 
her agenda.  "I'm holding you personally responsible for 
whatever is playing on the television in front of my son.  If 
the other two insist on watching something inappropriate, they 
can do it in their own room."

Byers meekly nodded in reply, looking like a chastened child.  
He didn't venture to speak because it was clear that Scully was 
pausing only long enough to receive an affirmative response.

"Langly was ordering pizza when I left, so dinner should be here 
soon.  Try not to give William too much soda.  And we would 
appreciate you guys leaving us a few slices since we haven't 
eaten yet."  Her business with Byers concluded, Scully turned 
again to Mulder.  "Let's get this show on the road."

Wisely complying without hesitation, Mulder held the keys out to 
her.  She gratefully took possession and opened the driver's 
door as Byers moved out of the way and slowly backed toward the 
motel.  The outcome for the remainder of the evening was far 
less certain than what had been successfully attempted that 
afternoon, but the two agents did not let that dissuade them 
from their task.  Whatever fate awaited them at the estate, they 
would face gladly.  It was time to avenge the wrongs inflicted 
upon their family.  

* * *

On the way to the estate, the partners stopped by the service 
road where the Gunmen had hidden the nanny's car, which Mulder 
commandeered and then led their two-car caravan toward the 
secluded property.  Upon their arrival, they found the place to 
be just as quiet and lifeless as the day before when he had 
reconnoitered it.  Parking in the circular drive directly in 
front of the house, the two disembarked simultaneously and 
shared an uneasy look.  There was something far too menacing 
about the silence, as though its very intent was to foster a 
false sense of security. 

While Mulder stood watch, one hand resting on his holster, 
Scully took the nanny's keys and tried a couple on the front 
door until the lock finally yielded and the large, oaken door 
swung open.  No alarms sounded.  No guards or Dobermans came 
rushing toward the intruders.  The eerie quiet still reigned.

Since their passenger remained slumped over in the back seat, 
the two agents made a quick inspection of the entryway, looking 
for signs that their presence was detected or that they had 
walked into a trap.  They found none.  Although still on her 
guard, Scully was quickly beginning to weary of this place, 
desiring to return to her son without further delay.  She broke 
the silence first.

"Why don't you go get the nanny.  I'll find the bedrooms."

Although the house was considerably smaller than some of the 
plantation homes that dotted the county, the vaulted ceilings 
and majestic stairwell made it feel more spacious than it indeed 
was.  The first floor was impeccable and decorated with 
expensive antiques, including many ante-bellum pieces, and 
showed no signs that a child lived there.  Mounting the wide, 
carpeted staircase, however, Scully finally discovered the 
living quarters, along with clues to the life that her son had 
been leading since he was ripped from her care.

The first door on the right had a clearly feminine touch, and a 
few framed portraits on the dresser testified that this was the 
room where their child's caregiver slept.  Upon this discovery, 
Scully returned to the top of the stairs, waiting for Mulder to 
reappear through the front door with their charge slumped over 
his shoulder.  When she caught his eye, she gestured toward the 
bedroom in question and then returned to her investigation.  

Across the hall from the nanny's room, she discovered a large 
bedroom, nearly twice the size of the other, that was clearly a 
child's domain.  Along one wall stood two large bookcases, 
stacked with colorful books and toys.  Next to them rested a 
large plastic crate overflowing with stuffed animals.  In the 
corner was an easel, bearing a dry erase board sporting childish 
scrawl.  The far wall was occupied mainly by a closet with 
double sliding doors, one of them currently standing open to 
reveal a selection of neatly pressed school uniforms, a colorful 
array of play clothes, and the edges of more toys protruding 
from the half still hidden from view.  The walls were 
illustrated with a Peter Pan theme, and the large bed that 
dominated the side of the room closest to the door matched 
perfectly with the hues and characters of the decor.

It was a child's playground, no expense spared--but well 
contained within the confines of this room.

At first immobilized as she took in the grandeur of the setting, 
Scully was spurred into action when her eyes fell upon the 
framed school photo of a sweet little strawberry-blond boy.  She 
could not preserve for him all the treasures of this room, nor 
would she want to.  But she could at least gather up enough of 
his belongings to help make the transition a little easier.  
Swiftly digging through the closet, she unearthed a suitcase, 
which she started to fill haphazardly with her son's clothes.  
Before long, she sensed Mulder's presence behind her in the 
doorway, stopping to take in the surroundings just as she had.  
She addressed him without pausing or turning around.

"Can you come finish this for me?  I want to pack up a few of 
his toys."

Mulder crossed the room to her and silently took over her task, 
so Scully was freed to turn to the other project on her mind.  
After briefly considering her options, she decided to empty the 
plastic crate and fill it with an assortment of toys and books 
that looked the most used and loved.  She made a quick circuit 
of the room, pausing every now and then to consider a book with 
worn edges, a ragged teddy bear that sat atop the neatly-made 
bed.  Within moments, such treasures had filled the crate.  The 
journey around the room brought her finally to the framed school 
picture, which she carefully caressed for a moment before gently 
securing it between two stuffed animals, and then she turned to 
face her partner.

"Muld--"

But she was brought up short by the sound that they both noticed 
simultaneously: the jingle of keys opening the front door.


************
Chapter VIII
************

The partners froze in place, reading each other's eyes, as they 
listened to the noises below.  The jingle of keys.  A door 
creaking open and then closed.  Footsteps in the hall.  A voice 
calling up the stairs.

"Kristiana?"

There was no mistaking that voice.  They had both heard it too 
many times, in too many unwelcome situations.  It was time to 
silence that voice.

Moving as one, the pair silently unsheathed their weapons and 
moved toward the doorway.  The muffled noises below were no 
longer coming from the hall, so the two dared to move toward the 
staircase.  After one quick peek around the corner, Mulder 
determined that the way was clear, and they gently worked their 
way down the carpeted stairs.

Once at the bottom, it wasn't difficult to locate their prey--
they only had to follow their noses.  The lingering trail of 
cigarette smoke led them to the library, just off the front 
hallway.  They silently took their stand on either side of the 
wide entryway, guns trained on the man who stood across the room 
with his back to them, his attention focused on some pages that 
lay on the desk in front of him.

"Hands up where I can see them, and turn around slowly."

Was that a flinch of surprise at the sound of Mulder's voice?

The old man let a page flutter from his hand, and he slowly 
turned to face them.  His hands were not held high in the air, 
but he did keep them slightly out to his sides.  As the two 
finally got a glimpse of his face, they could see it was a 
ghostly shade of white.

But the man quickly regained his composure, taking another long 
drag from his cigarette before leaning over to the ash tray next 
to him and snuffing it out.  As his initial look of surprise was 
replaced with his usual smugness, both agents came to realize 
that his pasty coloring had nothing to do with his reaction to 
them.  

It had been over seven years since they had last laid eyes on 
their nemesis, and Scully remembered how sickly he had looked 
back then.  Krycek had implied that the very technology Spender 
had offered to her on that trip, he had hence used to save 
himself from the illness that beset him.  Even so, the years had 
apparently not been kind to him.  His countenance was withered 
and drawn, the pallor accentuated by the tufts of white that 
framed his face.  If it were possible, it seemed that he been 
infused with the coloring of the very smoke that he breathed 
like oxygen.

Already in need of his next fix, he removed another cigarette 
from the open pack on the desk and lit up.  The flare of light 
on his face only highlighted the deep lines, and at the sight, 
Mulder felt his vigilance wither.  The man that stood before him 
no longer seemed the pillar of power and control but a weak, 
pitiful man, crumbling into a pile of ashes.

After another long drag from his cancer stick, Spender broke the 
stifling silence.

"Agent Mulder, how nice to see you again.  It's been a long 
time."

Hearing that voice once more dispelled any pity that Mulder had 
been feeling and recalled years of bitterness and pain.

"Only because you stole what didn't belong to you and went into 
hiding, you sick bastard.  But it's over now.  We're here to 
take William home with us, where he belongs."

"Are you sure that's such a good idea, Fox?  Just look at this 
place.  Look at what I have to offer him.  I can provide for him 
everything he'll ever want or need.  Do you really think the boy 
is better off with his alcoholic father?"

Mulder was seething and advanced slightly, not bothering to 
control his rage or his volume.  "We can give William the one 
thing you can't--love!  What that boy needs is his family!"

In contrast to these impassioned words, Spender remained quietly 
arrogant.  "But I *am* his family, Fox.  Surely you must realize 
that by now.  He's my flesh and blood, just like you are."

"Flesh and blood don't make a family.  Love does.  And you took 
that away from me, too, when you stole my sister.  I know what 
it's like to grow up without the love of a father, and I won't 
let you do that to my son.  No amount of money or gifts can make 
up for that loss."

Scully quietly closed the gap between her and Mulder, still 
standing slightly behind him as though to continue watching his 
back.  She placed a soothing hand on his arm as she heard him 
fight back the emotions in his voice.  His pain was so tangible 
that she could feel it radiating from him in waves, but she knew 
he was determined not to let the tears escape while in front of 
his enemy.

As Mulder sensed her hand, he drew the strength from her that he 
needed and took a deep breath to compose himself.  

They were both surprised when Spender's response was not 
gloating but resignation.

"Ah, well, I suppose it's for the best that you're here now.  
I'm not sure how much longer I'll be around to look after him."

Never one to mince words, Scully shot through his ambiguity 
straight to the heart of the matter.  "Are you dying?"

He took another drag before responding.  "The doctors say it's 
only a matter of weeks."

"What about the chip?  I thought you used it to cure yourself."

"Oh, I did.  But the cure came with a price, you see.  The 
technology could heal the damage to my brain and my lungs, but 
it couldn't erase the addiction.  And the cure could only be 
sustained by eliminating the cause.  However, a man cannot 
abandon his oldest companion."  He held up the cigarette nestled 
between his fingers and smiled at it with nostalgia and 
fondness.  "Controlling the future isn't all it's cracked up to 
be.  It's a lonely existence, Dana, and it is a man's closest 
friend who is the one destined to betray him."

His eyes left the smoldering stick and focused on her, the same 
fond smile now aimed in her direction.  "I still have the 
technology.  If you were to join me, Dana, I would no longer be 
lonely.  I could still live a long, healthy life if I chose.  
And you could become the greatest healer the world has ever 
known."

Scully's hand on Mulder's arm clenched tighter as she responded: 
"You can go to hell for all I care, you son of a bitch.  All I 
want is my son."   She took a deep breath and then turned her 
head to address her husband.  "Let's get this over with."

Mulder's arm raised again, gun trained strong and steady on the 
man across the room.  Spender, to his credit, did not flinch or 
pale.  He merely continued to puff away.

Staring down the barrel of the gun, Mulder flexed his finger on 
the trigger.  But something within him stopped him from 
completing the action, and he let his arm fall to his side again 
as he reengaged the safety.

Although his words were directed to Scully, his eyes did not 
stray from Spender.  "Leave him to the cancer.  I want him to 
die a slow and painful death, utterly alone.  Killing him now 
would be too merciful."

As Mulder took one step back, intending to turn and exit, a shot 
rang out.  Spender's face crumpled in surprise while bright red 
liquid began to blossom from his chest.  At first, Mulder 
assumed the shot had come from Scully, and he looked back at 
her, only to find her weapon down and her eyes focused somewhere 
beyond him.  He turned and followed her gaze, recognizing then 
what she already knew.

In the far corner of the room was another doorway that they had 
not bothered to cover, the one leading to the kitchen.  And 
standing in that doorway now was Alex Krycek, his gun and sight 
focused on the dying man.

Krycek approached slowly, coming to stand right in front of the 
Cancer Man to be sure that he got a good look at the face behind 
the trigger.  

"Give the Devil my regards."  The bitter words were followed by 
another shot, this one straight between the eyes, and the target 
collapsed to the floor in a lifeless heap.

Pausing to snuff out the smoldering stub that had fallen to the 
floor, Krycek then turned to address his enraptured audience, 
who stood watching the scene with fascinated disdain.  "It was a 
noble thought, Mulder, but I guess I'm not as patient as you."

Taking these words as a conclusion to their business, Mulder 
holstered his weapon and turned to Scully.  "I'd better go check 
on the nanny.  She must be awake by now."

But Krycek spoke before she could respond.  "Don't bother.  I've 
already liquidated her."  

"Damn it, Krycek!  Killing innocent people wasn't part of the 
deal!"

The Russian snorted in derision.  "Innocent?  Are you really 
that naive, Mulder?  You should know by now there aren't any 
innocent players in this game.  Who do you think took your son 
from that park?  It wasn't a couple of goons dressed in 
trenchcoats.  It had to be someone that wouldn't look suspicious 
hanging around a playground.  You should thank me.  Now everyone 
involved in your son's kidnapping is dead."  

Mulder's jaw visibly clenched as he stewed over this news.  They 
were FBI agents, trained to take their revenge in the courts, 
not with their own hands.  Once again, the only justice they 
could take solace in was an eye for an eye, not a public 
conviction.

Feeling his partner's hand settle on his arm again, he 
relinquished his angry focus on Krycek to turn and meet her 
gaze.  He saw there the same determined look that he had seen so 
often in the past, reminding him that while it was time to 
concede this round, the battle was far from forfeit.  

Her voice was gentle yet decisive as she spoke.  

"Let's go home."


********
Epilogue
********

Startled by the finger that swiped at the corner of her mouth, 
Scully looked over at her husband to catch his amused 
expression.  

"Ketchup."  He held up his finger to show her the evidence 
before popping the digit in his mouth and licking it clean, 
removing it a little more slowly than necessary since her eyes 
seemed to be riveted to his mouth.  As his lips curved up into a 
smug grin at her fixation, Scully graced him with an eye roll 
and then went back to eating her hotdog.  

Normally, the health-conscious physician wouldn't go near such a 
sinful thing--nor would she let her family--but Mulder had 
insisted that it was all part of the experience, so she made an 
exception.  ("It's not a day at the ballpark without hotdogs and 
peanuts, Scully.")  Truthfully, though, it had been not his 
reasoning but his enthusiasm that had won her over.  The 
threesome was finally going to a baseball game together, and 
Mulder had been bouncing off the walls all week in anticipation.

Licking the last remnants of the greasy snack from her fingers, 
Scully set her garbage beneath her seat and then affectionately 
leaned into Mulder's arm.  He dutifully took the hint and draped 
his arm around her shoulders, looking down to grace her with a 
warm smile, accompanied by a gentle squeeze, before returning 
his attention to the field below.

But it wasn't the game that held her attention.  As she snuggled 
closer into her husband's embrace and rested her head against 
his chest, Scully looked beyond him to the boy that was seated 
on his other side and under the protective care of his other 
arm.  In profile, he looked so much like his father, especially 
now, donned as they were in matching caps and jerseys.  Yankees, 
of course--even though they were at the White Sox' home field.  
Yet another detail that Mulder had insisted on, despite his 
wife's protests.  She mused that probably the only reason they 
weren't getting lynched by opposing fans right now was that the 
Yankees were currently behind by three runs.

Watching her son watch the game, Scully couldn't believe how 
much had changed over the past eight months.  One day, they were 
still mourning their son's death, and then the next, he was 
alive and returning with them to San Francisco.  

As much as this seemed to be a dream come true, the transition 
was by no means an easy one.  Each day brought new conflicts and 
challenges.  It hadn't taken long to realize that the tight 
space of their townhouse was too cramped for the three of them.  
But more than that, there was something about the setting that 
was all wrong.  San Francisco was the place to which Scully had 
escaped when their family fell apart; it had never been a place 
that belonged to the three of them together.  So they had 
decided to set out for unknown territory and make a fresh start.

Fate, in the form of Scully's job, chose the location for them.  
She asked for a transfer, and the Chicago field office needed a 
pathologist.  Mulder, on the other hand, found himself once more 
being offered a dead-end position as a concession to his wife's 
career.  It seemed the FBI had little use for him anymore, so he 
had decided to call it quits.  Still a legendary profiler, 
however, he was occasionally called in by the Bureau for a 
consultation, and he obliged.  But it was clear that he had no 
regrets about walking away from the daily grind.

Never one to sit still for long, though, Mulder had designated 
his newest challenge to be a doctorate in Psychology.  He had 
already been accepted into the University of Chicago, and after 
spending some quality time with his son over the summer, he 
would start as a full-time student in the fall.

And so, after celebrating William's seventh birthday in 
December, the family had packed up and moved to Chicago--
although, more than once they regretted not waiting until the 
summer to do it.  But Scully was willing to endure any number of 
Chicago winters in order to have a precious moment like this one 
with her son.  

The crowd around them started to buzz with tension and 
anticipation as the bases were loaded and a big hitter stepped 
up to the plate.  But Scully never once looked down at the 
field.  She could read every play through the expressions on her 
son's face.  His eyes were glued to the diamond below, but his 
hands never ceased their motion as he absent-mindedly shelled 
peanuts and popped them into his mouth one by one.  Replace 
those nuts with seeds, she considered, and he was the spitting 
image of his father.

The batter struck out and the inning ended, and as Scully 
continued to watch her son, she soon realized she had an 
audience of her own.  Looking up, she met Mulder's eyes, and 
they smiled contentedly at each other.  They held each other's 
gaze for a long moment, until his eyes dropped to her mouth, and 
then his lips followed suit and closed the distance.

"Are you guys kissing *again*?"

The pair broke apart, laughing softly, before looking over in 
tandem at their son's exasperated expression.  

Mulder turned back to his wife with a smirk.  "Oh yeah, I'd say 
he's shaping up to be a normal kid."


*******
THE END
*******
       
       
Final notes: In case you're wondering, I always intended this 
story arc to be in two parts, fully knowing when I started out 
that Mulder and Scully would get their son back (despite what 
you may think, I'm not really sadistic enough to kill off 
William).  However, as I wrote Ashes, I came to realize that it 
was more of an interlude, part 2 of 3.  So, there will 
eventually be a third part (but ONLY one more part)--but do keep 
in mind that it took me a year to get part 2 out.

I made up the town of Cambridge, NC; if such a town does
exist, I couldn't find it in my atlas. And I had no idea when
I wrote this that the White Sox would win the World Series this
year; I was just looking for an AL ballpark for Mulder to watch 
a Yankees game.  Also, on the issue of Mulder's degree in 
psychology, I know that many people think he already has a 
doctorate, but I don't, so now I'm letting him get one.



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