Chapter 2

He opened his eyes slowly, still feeling groggy but not
quite understanding why, and it was several minutes before
he was able to recognize the oddly familiar surroundings. He
was in Scully's apartment, in her bedroom, in her bed, in
fact, and as further evidence that he wasn't just having a
dream--a *good* dream for a change--there was a very
pregnant redhead sleeping peacefully beside him, her head
resting on his arm.  Mulder closed his eyes, allowing sleep
to drift in and out, and in one of his bouts of
semi-consciousness remembered that somehow he and Scully had
been separated, for a long time, too long, and that now he
was back, and she was beside him, and that she was having
their baby.  Moments later, the memory of *why* they had
been separated hit him, and his eyes flew open.  He stared
at the ceiling in panic for a minute, forcing himself to
control his breathing until he relaxed.

It was over.  He was safe.  He was home.  His hands felt
instinctively for the cross, and when he touched it, he
sighed with relief.  It really was over.

He glanced down at Scully and felt a stirring of
longing--surprised at the feeling, considering how hellish
the past...how long had it been since he'd awakened,
confused and terrified, at Billy Miles' house?...okay fine,
he told himself, considering how hellish the past week or so
had been.  Or whatever.

He wanted to roll on his side, take her in his arms, kiss
her and maybe even gently make love to her, if that was safe
at this stage, (his experience with pregnant women being
somewhat limited), but he couldn't seem to summon the
energy.  He had never felt so weak, not even when he was
fighting for his life after being infected with the
retrovirus a few years ago.  Just raising his eyelids every
few minutes took all his strength.

He finally gave up on the thought of lovemaking, although he
was pleased to note that even after all he'd been through,
memories he shoved away forcefully as soon as they tried to
emerge, his hormones could still take an interest in the
woman at his side.

As if sensing that he was awake, Scully raised her head,
stared at him for a minute, and when he closed his eyes and
resumed his even breathing, lay back on his arm and slept
again.

He had several more hours of peaceful rest before the dream
woke him.

In fact, it was almost noon when Scully was jerked awake by
a terrified Mulder, cringing away from her as if she was the
most fearsome sight he'd ever witnessed.

"No, not that, it *burns*!" he howled, scrabbling to free
himself from the tangled sheets.  "Oh god no please!  Please
don't burn me please!"  When he was unable to extricate his
legs from the sheet, he used his arms to pull himself off
the bed, falling into a heap on the floor.  His burst of
adrenalin seemed to have spent itself then, and he could go
no farther, but he lay curled on her bedroom floor,
whimpering, pleading with her over and over again not to
burn him.

Cursing the bastards who had hurt him--'burned him how could
they have burned him surely they didn't use *fire*'--she
knelt carefully beside his huddled form, speaking softly to
him, comforting words of love, hoping to reassure him
through the fear.

It took her a minute to realize he was still asleep,
probably a residual effect of all the drugs she'd fed him,
she thought grimly, and after watching him moan piteously
for another minute, she gave him a sharp slap across his
face to bring awareness into those terror-wide eyes.

He stared at her in shock, the imprint of her hand starkly
red against his pale face, and she took his head into her
embrace, hugging him softly, rocking gently back and forth
while she crooned to him until she felt his body begin to
relax.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry for slapping you, Mulder.  Okay now?"
she whispered when his fretful noises had completely
subsided, and after a minute he nodded his head.

"I had a dream," he said in a raspy voice.  "It was--"  He
broke off, as if unwilling to finish, and she decided a
change of subject was in order.

"What do you say we get cleaned up?"

Both of them were drenched in sweat and covered with the
odor of a long trip and no bath.  Mulder nodded at her
suggestion, and Scully grasped the side of the bed to pull
herself to a standing position, Mulder followed her into the
bathroom, waiting while she climbed into the shower and
adjusted the water, then stepping in behind her and closing
the curtain.  His movements were jerky, uncertain, as if he
had to think the simplest action through to its conclusion.

He glanced at her naked body, then looked away quickly--it
felt odd to be here with her; it had been too long.  Then,
unable to resist, he looked again. He was struck by the
sudden thought that she was radiantly beautiful, and
wondered if he would ever find her as sexy as he did right
then.  His eyes fell on her swollen belly and he smiled just
as she turned around.  He was caught.

She flushed.  "I'm sorry--I must look like a whale," she
stammered, but he stopped her, pulling her gently into his
arms.

"Don't," he whispered softly.  "You look beautiful.  You
aren't fat, you're carrying my son, *our* son."  He chose to
ignore her snort of disbelief when she pulled away to pick
up the soap.

"Tell me that when *you* can't see your feet," she scoffed,
and he chuckled quietly.

She washed herself, then passed the bar of soap to him.  He
took it, staring at it for a second before beginning to rub
it over his chest.  He imitated her movements, as if he had
forgotten the mechanics of bathing himself, but by the time
she handed him the shampoo, he seemed to have remembered.
She noted with relief that he didn't reach for the
conditioner she always put on her hair--Mulder never used
it, and if he had forgotten that fact it would have only
worried her more, but he seemed to have found his stride, at
least in the shower.

"You do this backwards," he commented, and she gave him a
puzzled look.  "I always shampoo first, then soap," he
explained.

"Clear evidence that we haven't showered together often
enough," she grinned, and he responded with a weak smile of
his own.

She reached up to touch her cross which still hung around
his neck, and he watched as she caressed it. "I should give
you that back, I guess."

She shook her head.  "Keep it as long as you want to,
Mulder.  I have to confess, I was amazed that you still had
it."

His face clouded for a second, then settled into his bland,
'I-don't-care' look.  "They didn't take it.  I don't know
why.  Even when they did the testing, they left it alone."

She dropped the subject, seeing that the discussion was
painful for him, and they finished quickly, wordlessly,
rinsing off and stepping carefully onto the bathmat, first
her, then Mulder, doing exactly as she did.

After she'd brushed her teeth, while he watched intently,
she fished beneath the counter for the small bag of his
toiletries that he'd kept at her place in the few weeks
before his disappearance.  She had looked at it longingly
for months before finally shoving it out of view, the sight
of it bringing back too many painful memories, but now she
was glad she'd kept it. Mulder took the bag curiously, as if
he'd never seen it before, but the moment he opened it,
recognition flooded his face, coupled with--was it relief?

"Remember that?" she asked quietly, and he nodded.  She'd
surprised him with the bag one weekend, after he'd spent
several unplanned nights at her apartment.  He always had to
go home to change clothes and brush his teeth, because he
never expected to stay, but then one thing would lead to
another...  After it had happened two or three times, Scully
had gone out and purchased the toiletries kit, complete with
shaving supplies, toothbrush and toothpaste, adding a few
other little things she thought might be appropriate. Mulder
had been delighted, not just at receiving an unexpected
gift, but at the implication that he was welcome to stay
over, that she *wanted* him to stay over, any time they both
chose.

He extracted his toothbrush and the brand of toothpaste he
always used--Aim, she couldn't stand the taste of Aim but
Mulder refused to consider anything else ("It's cheap,
Scully, and it works as well as anything.")--and moved
toward the sink purposefully.  Then stood there for several
seconds, staring at the faucet as if wondering what came
next before reaching tentatively to turn on the water.  As
before, his movements grew more certain as he progressed,
until he was finally brushing his teeth like an old pro.
Scully wracked her brain for symptoms of post-traumatic
stress disorder, but couldn't remember anything like this
ever being mentioned.  She supposed it was reasonable to
expect this behavior, after being captive for months, unable
to perform these daily rituals, as well as having his mind
messed with in god only knew what ways.  She only hoped
there was nothing seriously wrong with Mulder, nothing they
had yet to discover.

She left him in the bathroom, going to her closet and taking
out one of the loose-fitting pullover dresses she favored in
these last weeks of pregnancy.  Bending over to fasten shoes
was impossible, so she'd taken to wearing slip-on sandals
and pumps when she went out, and as long as she was relaxing
at home, Scully saw no reason to wear anything that made her
any more uncomfortable than she already was, so she skipped
shoes completely.

She slipped the dress over her head, smoothing it down her
belly, and gave a little start of surprise when a pair of
long arms snaked around her waist--or what used to be her
waist--and a mouth nuzzled at her neck.

"I missed you so much," he sighed against her skin.  "I'd
like nothing more than to take you into that bed and show
you, but I just don't think I have the energy right now."

She turned in his arms, pulling him close in a fierce hug.

"We have forever," she told him.  "You're back and you're
safe with me and we have all the time in the world now--"
She broke off when her voice tried to choke up, and thought
for the millionth time how happy she would be after the baby
was born, and she could be in control of her emotions again.
Hormones sucked, plain and simple.  On the other hand, it
was hormones that had gotten her into this situation, and
the effects of those hormones had been very nice indeed.
Mulder's plan sounded enticing, but this wasn't the time.
He'd done nothing more than shower and he was already
beginning to sway on his feet.

"I have some clothes for you," she said, guiding him over to
sit on the bed and then opening a dresser drawer.  She
produced a pair of sweat pants, boxers and another of his
t-shirts, a black one this time, and tried to ignore how
sexy he was, sitting there on her bed completely naked, even
if he did look incredibly thin and haggard.  Just to have
him back--

"Here," she said briskly, shaking off the threatening tears
again.  She handed him the boxers and he slipped them on,
standing to pull them up, then sinking gratefully to the bed
again.  His breathing was already heavy.  They repeated the
action with the pants, and then she pulled the shirt over
his head, dressing him like a child, grateful for any reason
to touch him, run her hands over the skin--how she'd missed
the feel of him.

"What are you doing with my clothes, Scully?" he asked
curiously, and was surprised when she blushed.

"I just...it made me feel like you were nearby," she
whispered.  The look he gave her almost took away the last
of her self-control.  Ignoring the urge to begin blubbering
again, she asked him, "Can you make it to the kitchen?"

He gave her a look that said he wasn't sure, so she helped
him stand. He leaned on her, but only a little, mindful of
her condition, and it struck her that even now, when he was
more weakened than she, he was watching out for her.

Scully helped him to the table and plopped him into a chair,
then moved to the refrigerator and started pulling things
out.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm fixing breakfast," she told him, turning to give him a
smile.  "Or maybe it's lunch.  Whatever we call it, you need
to eat, and I'm *always* starving these days.  Junior here
is going to be an eating machine, just like his daddy."

"Not 'junior'," he said, a stubborn look settling on his
face, and she realized all at once how much she'd missed
arguing with him.

"Aw, come on," she teased.  "I'd love to have a little baby
Fox running around here."  She laughed at his expression,
crossing to drop a kiss on top of his head, then another. He
grasped at her hand and pulled it to his cheek, savoring the
nearness of her.

"I'm only kidding," she told him, rubbing his face lightly.
"I wouldn't do that to you."

"I wouldn't do it to our son."  He stared at the counter
where she'd placed eggs, cheese and milk.  "What are you
making?"

"I thought omelets," she replied, going back to her task
with another light kiss placed on his cheek--she couldn't
get enough of touching him.  "Hungry?"

He didn't have to think before answering--food was a concept
to which he was rapidly becoming accustomed.  "Starved."

She bit her lip at his single word, hiding her face from
him.  He was starved, damn them all to hell, or at least
halfway so.  There were so many questions she wanted
answered, but now was not the time.  Right now, they were
having a relatively normal moment, and she wasn't about to
break the spell.  She finished her preparations quickly and
a few minutes later placed a hot omelet in front of him.  He
watched as she took her seat and picked up her fork, then
did the same, imitating her again, and soon was digging into
his meal with enthusiasm.

Halfway through the omelet, he put down his fork.  The weary
look had returned, and Scully was afraid he might fall off
the chair.

"Mulder, are you all right?" she asked anxiously, standing
up and moving toward him as quickly as she was able.

He nodded, resting his elbows on the table and his head in
his hands.  "I just--I hate feeling so tired all the time,
Scully."

She put her arms around him, leaning in to hug him over her
belly.

"I know," she soothed.  "It will pass, I promise you.
Mulder, you've just returned from a terrible ordeal, both
emotional and physical.  It's going to take a while before
your body gets back into shape."

The haunted look had come into his eyes again, and in
attempt to banish it before it could break off another piece
of her heart, she tugged at his arms.

"Let's go into the living room," she suggested.  "Maybe
there's something on tv you'd like to watch."

He stared at her blankly for a second, then smiled, much to
her relief.  It had taken him a moment, but he remembered
television, thank god he remembered.  Now if only they could
get him past the hesitation, but she supposed she should be
grateful he was sane, and not try to rush his recovery.  It
was just, she thought as they made their way slowly toward
the couch, that she was going to have a baby any day now,
and she wouldn't be able to be strong for him then, not for
a while.  She was afraid of what might happen to him, and to
her.

"I should be the one taking care of you," he joked, almost
as if he'd read her mind, while she eased him down to the
sofa.  "I'm sorry, Scully, I--"  He broke off, his voice
choking with tears.  He fought to get his emotions under
control, and for a moment she thought he'd won.  The next
thing she knew, she was holding him and he was sobbing into
her shoulder, sobbing out all the terror and pain and
loneliness, sobbing on and on and on until his eyes burned
and his throat ached and there were no more tears.

Mulder cried for a long time, and she held him for a long
time after that, gently stroking her fingers through his
hair, until he raised up to look at her.  He seemed
surprised to find her face wet with her own tears.

"I'm sorry, Scully.  I wish I had been here for you,
through... all of this," he finished, touching her belly
lightly.

"You were," she smiled through her tears, brushing them away
quickly.  "I know it sounds corny, but you never left me.  I
always felt you near."

"But I wish I had been able to help you.  It can't have been
easy."

"Well," she replied, scooting slowly back to lean against
the arm of the sofa, "If you'd like to make up for lost
time..."

He grinned.  "Whatever you want, it's yours."

She took him literally, slipping off her shoes and thrusting
her feet into his lap.

"My ankles get swollen," she explained, amused at his
expression.  "And my feet hurt."

He smiled again, and she saw a flash of the old, teasing
Mulder there.

"Am I nothing but a foot rest for you?" he demanded in mock
irritation.

"Oh, you're much more than that," she said seriously, her
eyes twinkling nonetheless.

"Yeah?"

"Yes.  You're also a foot masseuse, and that's a very
important job.  Now get to work."

He took one foot between his long, slender hands, beginning
to work it from toe to heel.  Scully leaned back and closed
her eyes, occasionally letting out a contented noise that
sounded remarkably like a purr. Mulder grinned and started
on the other foot, but it wasn't long before the muscles in
his hands began to ache, adding to the weariness he felt all
over. He slowed his massage, closing his own eyes, relaxing,
and moments later stopped completely.

Scully was enjoying her foot rub so much she didn't realize
her masseuse was pooping out on her.  The feel of his hands
on her skin was so intimate that she found herself growing
warm with desire for him, aching for the physical love they
had not shared in nearly a year.  She knew he was in no
shape to accommodate her right now, but maybe if she took
the lead, did most of the work...?  She lay there carefully
planning her seduction of Mulder as his movements slowed and
became even more sensual, and smiled slyly to herself.
Mulder felt it too, she realized happily.  He wanted to make
love with her as badly as she wanted him. Now it was just up
to her to make it happen. When he stopped, she decided the
time was right to approach him. Opening her eyes a slit, she
drank in the sight of him, his head thrown back revealing
his long, sexy neck, that little hollow at the base of it
tempting her, his face more relaxed than she had seen it
since his return.

"It's been so long, Mulder," she whispered, moving her bare
foot provocatively against his crotch and frowning when she
was unable to locate even the hint of an erection.  Okay,
she thought pragmatically, so he needed a little help--he
had, after all, been under a lot of stress.  She could work
with that. In fact, she was so hot for him that she was
ready to rip off his sweats and suck him until he was so
hard he begged her to let him come.  Getting to a sitting
position wasn't easy, but Scully was determined, and after a
good sixty seconds of struggle, finally accomplished her
goal, squatting on her knees next to Mulder.  She leaned
over him, intending to suckle at his throat where she most
loved to taste him, when he suddenly emitted a tiny snore.
Only then did she realize he'd fallen asleep.

"Well, hell," she muttered, taking in the sight of him
relaxed in slumber.  "That's what I get for lusting after a
sick man!"  She grinned at him, despite her frustration.
God, it was good to have him back.  At least the dreams
weren't plaguing him right now, and after all, she had kept
him full of drugs for the past few days.  It was only
understandable that he'd be tired until all that stuff got
out of his system.  Also, it didn't take a doctor to see
that his body was worn out from whatever his captors had put
him through.

With a sigh, she settled herself against him, forcing her
desire to subside while she contented herself with snuggling
and breathing in his scent. She took comfort in the
knowledge that he was here, and safe, and hers.  The baby
gave a sharp kick just then, and she let out a soft, "Oof!"
but Mulder never stirred.

He didn't move when the telephone rang half an hour later--
Frohike telling her "Dr. Jones" had the results of Mulder's
tests--and he didn't awaken when they knocked at the door
with them not long after.

-----

Scully, the guys and "Dr. Jones" sat around her dining room
table discussing the test results in low undertones, hoping
not to wake the subject of their conversation from his
much-needed rest.  She was grateful that he'd managed to
sleep for over an hour already without being disturbed, and
planned to get several more hours out of him if possible.
The previous night had been plagued by unsettled dreams, but
not, she thought gratefully, the terrifying ones.  He was
probably still too doped up for that.

"What did you find?" Scully demanded quietly, searching the
doctor's face for signs of bad news.

"Not much," he admitted, handing her a folder.  "Tissue
samples appear to be normal.  He showed signs of odd brain
activity, but you already knew about that.  He also has a
small object embedded in the back of his neck, but I'm told
you already knew that as well."

She nodded.

"One really odd thing is his x-rays," Dr. Jones went on,
spreading several sheets out on the table for her to
examine.

She picked up one and held it to the light, studying it
carefully for a moment, seeing nothing amiss, and then her
eyes widened.  There, across Mulder's left femur, were three
tiny marks that looked almost like healed breaks.  Almost,
but not quite--they were too clean, too straight, to be
actual breaks in the bone.

"They can't be what they look like," she said, turning to
him with wide eyes, and he nodded agreement.

"They look almost like...like someone *sliced* through his
bones," Dr. Jones said.  "And look here--"

He handed her the x-ray of Mulder's ribs and Scully gasped.
The marks were there as well, so small as to be almost
invisible, so odd you might think they were a discoloration
on the film, and yet forming a perfect line down each side
of the ribcage.  Studying the x-rays carefully, she was also
able to detect the marks on his fingers, upper arms and
skull.

"Oh my god," she breathed, "what the hell did they do to
him?"

"There's something else, Scully," Frohike told her, shoving
another page of the report toward her.  "He has the same
branched DNA that you had after you were abducted."

She stared at him.  "None of the others showed that--at
least not before.  I wasn't able to examine them after their
return, but that--" she shook her head in confusion.  "It
doesn't make sense!  I was nearly dead, how can Mulder
be...?"

"I know.  Maybe that's the anomaly they found in Mulder.
Maybe it was supposed to do something to him that it didn't
do."

"Control him.  Billy said they tried to control him and they
couldn't.  Something in Mulder's own genetic makeup allowed
him to fight them."

"No wonder they wanted to study him so badly," Langly cut
in. "Mulder must've weirded them out good."

"There's something else we're not considering," Byers put in
quietly, and they all turned toward him.  "Mulder's about to
become a father," he said pointedly.  "His child could have
the same anomaly."

Scully's eyes widened in horror at the implications
contained in his simple statement. "They'll never take my
child," she said fiercely.

"I don't think they'd be so obvious as to just take him,"
came a voice from the sofa, and the entire group stared at
Mulder, awake at last.

He stood, on shaky legs, and made it most of the way to the
dining room table before beginning to sway on his feet.
Byers jumped up to help him and Frohike helped ease Mulder
into a chair.

"Thanks, guys," he muttered, staring at the floor, hating
his own weakness.

"It's great to see you looking more like yourself, Mulder,"
Langly told him.

"I--thanks," he said, obviously uncomfortable with the turn
the conversation was taking.  He quickly steered it back to
the topic at hand.

"I don't think they'll try to kidnap the baby," he told
Scully.

"Why not, Mulder?  What's to stop them?"

"It's too risky.  There are too many people who know what's
going on, there are too many people who could compromise
their plan. Too many people we could get to, if necessary."

Scully didn't agree, but there seemed no point in arguing.
Mulder was acting and sounding like his old self, and she
wasn't about to do anything to upset him now.  There was no
telling what would set him off again, the only certainty
being that something would--eventually.

"Can I see those?" he asked, reaching his hand toward the
x-rays, and Scully reluctantly handed them over.  She was
afraid that he would have a panic attack when he saw the odd
marks, but he remained calm.  His face paled a bit, and his
mouth tightened, but that was all.  After perusing them for
a few minutes, he handed them back to her.

"Do you--do you remember any of this, Mulder?" she asked
hesitantly.

"Yes," he replied shortly.  "And no, I don't want to talk
about it."

There was a minute of uncomfortable silence before Byers
cleared his throat.

"We'd better get going," he announced, standing and
motioning for the rest of them to do the same. It was
obvious that Mulder and Scully needed to be alone right now,
and there was nothing more they could do, anyway. "Mulder,
take it easy," he continued, clasping his friend's shoulder
for a moment, and Mulder nodded as the four of them trooped
out of the apartment.

Scully gathered the papers out of sight, shoving them back
into the folder and sliding them into a drawer while Mulder
watched the Gunmen and the doctor leave.  When the door had
closed, he turned back to the table to find it empty of
x-rays, blood reports and so forth.  He raised an eyebrow
questioningly, but Scully just put on her stubborn face, and
Mulder sighed. He wanted to look at the medical report, but
he didn't have the heart to insist she pull the papers out
again.  She was probably right--now wasn't really the time.
He was still too close to it all, and right now he felt
pretty good, even if he was weak and tired.  He wanted to
enjoy the day with her.  The last thing he wanted to do was
delve into the memories of how those marks had come to be
etched on his bones.

"You promised me television," he reminded her, and Scully
smiled.

"So I did," she agreed, rising and offering him her hand.  

He ignored it, pulling himself to his feet, and to his
immense pride, made it all the way back to the sofa under
his own power. Then he collapsed, panting for breath, and
she pretended not to notice while she grabbed the remote and
settled herself comfortably against him, nestled in the
crook of his arm.  His hand rested on her belly, and he
grinned hugely when the baby kicked again.

"Kid's definitely an athlete," he told her, and she rolled
her eyes.

"Believe me, Mulder, I know.  He's been playing basketball
in there for months.  Even if I *had* been with another man,
there would be no doubt in my mind that this is your child."

He knew she was joking, but the idea of Scully with someone
else made him feel physically ill, so he changed the subject
yet again.

"What are we watching?" he asked, nodding toward the tv.

She pretended to consider.  "You promised that when I
invited you over for dinner, we'd watch 'Steel Magnolias,'
she reminded him, and he grimaced.

"That promise doesn't count," he argued.  "It was made in a
moment of weakness.  I was still reeling over the fact that
you eat popcorn with no butter.  And besides, I was so horny
I wasn't thinking clearly anyway."

She almost giggled at the memory, feeling a rush of relief
that he remembered that evening.  At least they hadn't
stolen that part of him, not all the precious memories of
the two of them together.

Her laughter subsided when she saw the hungry look in his
eyes, and when he leaned over to pull her into a gentle
kiss, she found herself returning it eagerly. Their lips
met, then their tongues, and suddenly there was nothing and
no one in the world except the two of them, tasting each
other after long months of drought, clutching frantically at
one another. The kiss went on and on, and suddenly Scully
could stand the wait no longer.  Her overactive hormones
dictated what she did next, and she wasn't even sure, when
her hands reached for the hem of his shirt, what was
happening.  In a flash she pulled the shirt over his head
and tossed it aside, and he didn't seem put off by her
action, in fact he welcomed it, sliding his hand up her leg,
grinning when he encountered stubble there but moving onward
to lightly cup her, feeling her wetness.  She ground against
him, moaning with the pleasure that came in an unexpected
rush--it had been so long, too long--and then his fingers
slipped beneath the cotton crotch and found her, beginning
to rub her gently, then harder, faster, while she rocked
back and forth against him.

She felt the climax building within her until she couldn't
stand it, panting her rapid, hot breath into his face,
moaning in the back of her throat with the need for him to
finish, bring her over the edge, and then he did, and it was
wonderful, and she bit back a scream of pleasure as the
world exploded around her, all centered on his magical
fingers. When at last she returned to reality, little by
little, it was to find him gazing at her with wide, loving
eyes, his expression relaxed and happy, and she smiled, she
couldn't help smiling at the sheer joy she felt at *his*
joy.

"Mulder," she whispered, kissing him again, lightly this
time, but lingering there against his lips, savoring the
taste of him once more.

"Scully, I want you," he answered, almost groaning with his
desire.  "Can we--is it possible--?"

She smiled again, giving him a gentle push backwards until
he was lying on the sofa.

"Oh yes, it's possible," she told him.  

"I don't want to take any chances," he said, sincerely
hoping her doctor-like wisdom would convince him this was
safe.  "I don't want to hurt you or the baby."

She leaned far over, her belly pressing against his, and
kissed him again.  "Just you let me take care of this," she
ordered playfully, and stood in order to remove her panties.

He sat up to help her, sliding his hands up her legs again
toward the cotton undergarment she wore, and she giggled.

"What?" he asked, gazing up at her in confusion.

"I saw your face when you felt my hairy legs," she retorted
with a grin.  "Wait until you're eight months pregnant,
buster, and we'll see if *you* can bend over to shave your
legs."

"I don't know which thought is more abhorrent," he murmured,
sliding the dress up to nuzzle at her crotch.  He kissed
her, through the panties, then kissed his way up to the
waistband, grabbing it with his teeth and tugging downward.

If Mulder had been the suave hero of a romance novel, no
doubt this action would have gone smoothly, but since this
was real life, and none of that stuff ever really worked, he
found the panties got snagged on her hips halfway down.
Growling in frustration, he reached up with both hands and
yanked them off her.  She gasped at the suddenness of it,
then gave him a feral smile and pushed him onto his back.
His cock was alive and well this time, bulging the crotch of
his sweat pants in a most satisfying manner, and Scully
licked her lips as she stared down at him.  Mulder felt
himself grow even harder at her gaze, as he reached hungrily
for her.

Quickly, she slipped the dress over her head, tossed it on
top of his shirt, then added his sweats and boxers to the
pile.  She stared up and down the long, beautiful expanse of
his naked body, feeling tears try to start again when she
thought of how much she had missed this, missed *him*, every
part of him, and then she shook away the memory.  He was
here, and feeling good at the moment, and he wanted her. God
knew it wasn't an opportunity to be wasted.

She settled herself on him, straddling him carefully, and
watched his eyes darken with passion when she took him in
her hand and slid him slowly inside her warmth.  The feel of
Mulder, after all these months of longing, made her cry out
with pleasure, and she felt a thrill when she heard his
answering gasp.

"You feel so good, Scully...so good..." he whispered,
reaching up to cup her breasts, kneading them gently,
careful lest they be sore, obviously pleased at the swollen
size of them.

She sat still for a moment, adapting to the fullness,
re-accustoming herself to the depth and contours of him
inside her.

"Mulder..." she breathed as she began slowly moveing him in
and out of herself, her eyes closed and her lips parted,
lavishing every bit of her love on him.

He was tiring rapidly, but not about to stop when ecstasy
was so close, so he lay there and allowed her to take the
lead, pumping him slowly at first, then, as she approached
another orgasm, faster and faster until he could feel
himself tighten unbearably.

The sight of her pregnant belly against his, the knowledge
that a physical proof of their love existed and would soon
be living, breathing, in this very room, coupled with the
beautiful picture her face made in her arousal, nearly drove
him over the edge.  His hands slid down from her breasts to
clutch her arms, lifting her, trying to help her as she
carried them both farther and farther down the river of
bliss until he felt her muscles convulse around him, more
tightly than he could ever remember or maybe his memory was
faulty maybe it had just been so long for both of them he
wasn't sure but one thing he was certain of he loved her
loved her loved her and seconds later he was screaming out
his love as she milked the essence of him with her
tightness, screaming and screaming her name until at last he
collapsed against the sofa, drenched with sweat, utterly
wrung out, blissfully happy.

Normally, after such a satisfying encounter, Scully would
have collapsed on top of him, hugging him close while the
languid after-sex feeling engulfed them both, but the baby
made that impossible, so instead, she lay back toward the
other end of the sofa, settling herself between his legs and
draping her own on either side of his body.  She drifted in
and out of blissful reverie for a while until she realized
he had fallen asleep again.

Poor guy, she thought, climbing carefully off him and
covering him with the afghan her mother had made her years
ago, when she first went to college.  Worn out, but still
her Mulder.  Kissing her fingers and placing them on his
forehead for a moment, she went into the bathroom.  She
needed to clean herself up, and her back was hurting after
all that activity.  A warm soak would be nice, and then
she'd somehow manage to shave her legs.  She hadn't cared
when she was alone, but now that Mulder was back, she wanted
to look her best.  Even though she knew he didn't mind,
really, knew it was silly, the feminine side of her wanted
to be as beautiful as she could be for him.  Especially now
when she felt as lithe and graceful as a small hippopotamus.

She started the water, making sure the temperature was just
right, not as hot as she'd normally prefer it since that was
bad for the baby, but warm enough to soak away her aches.
She added some scented bubble bath and slipped into the tub,
sliding carefully down until she could lean back and relax.
Closing her eyes, Scully drifted, her ears trained on the
living room for any possible noise.  Mulder was sleeping; it
could be bad.

After twenty minutes, when the water had cooled considerably
and she had heard no disturbance from the other room, Scully
pulled the plug and hauled herself out of the tub.  She had
to get on her knees, then grab onto the small towel rack
where she hung her washcloth, using it as a brace while she
pulled herself to a standing position.  Then, because she
was always afraid of falling, she reached for the other
towel rack, the one outside the tub, and steadied herself on
it while she climbed out onto the bath mat.  Smiling at her
success, she opened a drawer and withdrew her electric
shaver.  Maybe she wouldn't be able to reach all of her
legs, but she'd do her best.  Maybe she would get Mulder to
do the rest for her.  She smiled--the thought struck her as
bordering on the ridiculous, a hen-pecked Mulder doing her
bidding no matter how silly...but then, he had missed months
of her pregnancy, so he owed her.

She plopped down onto the bed, setting her left foot on the
mattress, and turned on the battery-operated shaver.  She'd
barely touched her leg with it when she heard a howl of
terror from the living room.  Dropping the shaver, Scully
hurried out as fast as she could move.

Mulder wasn't on the couch, but a quick search revealed him
in the corner of the room, pressed against the wall.  His
eyes were wide with terror, and he moaned over and over
again, "...no no don't do it not again please no Scully
Scully Scully..."

She ran to him, taking his face in her hands, calling his
name, but he didn't even seem to see her.  His gaze was
fixed over her shoulder, and she realized he was staring
into her bedroom.  She hadn't turned the shaver off when
she'd dropped it, and it was still buzzing away on the
floor.

"...Scully Scully no don't hurt me not again not that again
no it *hurts* Scully Scully..."

Quickly she returned to the bedroom, grabbing up the shaver
and switching it off, then went back to where Mulder now
sat, huddled on the floor, his face buried in his knees as
he tried to push himself as far into the corner as possible.

"Mulder, it's me," she said softly, kneeling before him.
"It's Scully.  You're all right now, Mulder.  Nobody's going
to hurt you."

She didn't touch him--she was afraid to touch him--but she
continued to let her calming voice wash over him, and in a
few minutes his eyes peeked out, darting around the room
frantically before settling on her face.

"Scully?"

She nodded, stretching out a hand carefully and slowly.
"It's me, Mulder.  It's okay.  You're safe here."

Sudden realization flooded his face, and he sighed.

"I hate this," he muttered.

She almost laughed and almost cried in her relief.  "I know,
but it's over now."

"Scully?"

"Yes, Mulder?"

He paused, then asked casually, "Do you think you could help
me get dressed?"

She did laugh, then, unable to hold back her feelings, and
soon he joined her, the two of them laughing until tears ran
down their faces, and neither of them was sure if they were
tears of mirth or tears of pain.

She brought him his boxers, oblivious to her own nudity, and
helped him slip them on, then the two of them made their way
slowly into the bedroom.  They lay down on the bed, cuddling
each other, and Scully watched as he slipped into sleep yet
again.  After his breathing slowed and deepened, she gently
extricated herself from his embrace, donned fresh panties,
and slipped back into the dress she'd left on the living
room floor.  Mulder hadn't eaten much at breakfast, and
their prior physical activity was bound to have drained him,
she thought with amusement.  She'd better get something
ready for dinner.

She finally settled on spaghetti with tomato sauce, partly
because it was easily prepared and partly because she knew
he needed the carbohydrates.  Besides, Mulder adored
spaghetti.  He'd eat a lot of it.  Then maybe he'd have
enough strength later on for some more mattress dancing, she
told herself with a wicked grin.  'Dana Scully, you're
incorrigible,' she thought in her mother's voice, and then
in her own, 'No I'm not.  I'm insatiable.  Besides, I'm
pregnant.  It's allowed.'

Mom's voice hushed after that, and Scully hummed to herself
while she boiled water for the pasta.  The baby kicked her
again and she leaned over, breathing slowly and massaging
her abdomen.  That one had been bad, and it took a few
minutes for the pain to subside.

"Active little sucker," she muttered to herself, adding
herbs to the canned spaghetti sauce so it would taste more
like homemade.  She searched through the freezer until she
found the loaf of garlic bread she'd stashed there a couple
of months ago.  She knew it wasn't healthy to eat too much
of that type of thing, and she certainly had no intention of
remaining fat after the baby was born, but right now, Scully
wanted garlic bread, wanted it in the worst way, almost as
badly as she'd wanted Mulder earlier.

"I'm pregnant.  It's allowed," she proclaimed, tossing the
loaf onto a baking sheet and turning on the oven.

When everything was ready, and she had already snitched a
small piece of the bread--because who could wait for garlic
bread when they were eight months pregnant?--she went into
the bedroom to wake Mulder.

She found him lying in the semi-darkness, his eyes open,
watching her.

"You're awake."

"I've been lying here, listening to you," he told her.

"Listening to me?"

"Just listening to your movements.  Listening to the normal
sounds that people make when they're living their lives.  I
missed that.  I didn't realize how much until just now."

She swallowed the lump that suddenly appeared in her throat.

"How about some normal eating activity?" she suggested
brightly.  "Spaghetti and garlic bread."

He didn't have to be asked twice, swinging to a sitting
position and then waiting there for a few moments while the
dizziness passed.  'Orthostatic hypotension,' she'd called
it, and said it was perfectly normal in his weakened
condition, and that it would diminish.  He hoped so, and
soon.  It disturbed him to feel himself grey out whenever he
sat up too quickly.  She handed him the clothes she'd
grabbed on her way to the bedroom and he slipped them on
slowly.

"Okay?" she asked, wanting to hold out a hand to help him
but knowing Mulder would refuse--he wanted to do this on his
own and she had to let him.

He nodded, heaving himself to his feet, and she let him walk
ahead of her toward the kitchen.  He made it, barely,
dropping into a chair and breathing heavily for a few
minutes, but he made it.  She gave him a plate filled with
pasta and sauce, and he flashed a grateful smile before
digging in.  She was pleased to note that the hesitancy
seemed to be gone, and chalked it up to the amount of drugs
he'd been given on the trip home.  That much Percodan would
have slowed anyone down.

He ate it all, this time, cleaning his plate
enthusiastically, and Scully watched in satisfaction as he
reached for the last piece of bread.

"You want to share it?" he offered, holding it out to her,
but she shook her head.

"Little Fox has had all the butter he needs today, thanks,"
she replied, smiling at his wince.

"Maybe we'd better discuss names, Scully," he said
pointedly, and she picked up her plate and his, rinsing them
and loading them into the dishwasher.

"Leave that, I'll get it," he told her.  "I've gotten more
rest than you have in the past twelve hours.  In fact, I
feel like I've done nothing except sleep."

"Oh, you've done more than that," she said, smiling
wickedly.  "Besides, you need your rest."

"Why's that?"

"Because I have plans for you later on, Mulder.  Big plans."

He leered at her, rising to help her anyway, and then
grasped the edge of the counter for balance.

"Damn," he swore softly.

"Just sit down," she ordered, pointing at the chair with a
stern finger.  "This takes five minutes.  Then we'll go sit
down."

"Good," he replied, sinking back into his chair gratefully.
"Don't think I didn't notice how you tried to dodge the
issue of names."

"Look, I'm only teasing," she told him as she rinsed out the
spaghetti pan.  "I know you don't want to name our baby
'Fox' and that's fine with me.  I'd like something a little
less...unusual myself.  But I would like it if you'd let me
give him the middle name of 'William,' she continued,
placing the pan in the dishwasher and turning to him.  "That
covers you, your father, and my father.  Can't go wrong with
that."

"William's fine," he agreed, "but what do we *call* the
kid?"

She shrugged, reaching out a hand to steady him as he rose
to his feet again.  "I don't know.  Something normal.
Something that won't lead to his getting beat up on the
playground."

"I agree.  How about something commonplace, like John?"

She made a face.  "Never liked that name.  How about
Daniel?"

He gave her a glare and she winced.  "Sorry, Mulder.  I
wasn't even thinking of him, I swear.  I've just always
liked the name."

"Not Daniel."

"Not Daniel," she agreed, settling him on the sofa. "Tyler?"

"Too trendy."

"Hmmm...not trendy...Michael?"

He shook his head.  "Michael was the name of the bastard
that Phoebe cheated on me with."

"Well, I'm glad it's not a girl," she said, nestling her
head against his shoulder.  "At least we don't have to go
through the list of your old girlfriends, rejecting all
*their* names."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked in a hurt tone, and
she sighed.

"I'm sorry, Mulder, I don't mean to be a bitch.  Seems my
hormones override my good sense these days.  It didn't mean
anything, I promise."  She propped her feet up on the coffee
table, flexing them just because it felt so good to stretch
those muscles.  "I'll be lucky if you don't ditch me before
the baby's born," she said mournfully.  "You're actually
lucky you didn't see me in my earlier stages.  I was hell on
wheels.  You can ask the guys."

"Scared 'em, did you?" he asked, rubbing her bare foot with
his.

"You have no idea.  You were too out of it on the trip home
to see how they all cowered before me."

It was a conversational track Mulder didn't want to take, so
he changed the subject again, something he was getting quite
good at, he reflected.

"How about Stephen?"

"Who?"

"Stephen," he repeated.  "For the name.  You *are* getting
scatterbrained," he teased and she punched him lightly in
the belly.  In reciprocation he placed his hand on hers,
smiling when he felt the baby move.  "He's really active,"
he observed.

"He's running laps today."

"What do you think, big guy?" Mulder asked, leaning over to
place his ear over her stomach.  "Want to be called
Stephen?"

In response, the baby moved against his cheek and Mulder
smiled broadly.

"He says 'yes'," he reported to Scully, and she laughed.

"More than likely he's wondering where that deep voice came
from all of a sudden," she argued.  "He probably recognizes
you, and wonders where you've been all these months."

"Sorry buddy," Mulder said to her stomach.  "I had a
previous engagement, but I'm all yours now.  Yours and
mommy's."

She was overcome with a sudden rush of longing, and she
grasped his hair gently and tugged, pulling him up so she
could kiss him full on the lips.

"We're all yours, too," she whispered.

He returned her kiss passionately for a few seconds, then
pulled away with reluctance.  "Much as I'd love to follow
through on that thought, I just don't have the stamina right
now," he sighed, leaning back against the sofa,
disappointment written on his face.

"No problem, Mulder," she whispered, snuggling close to him
again.  "I'm a mass of hormones these days, totally
unreasonable in my demands.  Let's just cuddle, shall we?"
She grimaced.  "I can't believe I just said 'cuddle.'  I'm
making myself nauseous, how can you stand it?"  Then, with a
small sigh, "Maybe we can expose little Stephen to some good
television."

"Reruns of Saturday Night Live?" he asked hopefully,
grinning at her disgust with her own words.

"The Nature Channel," she contradicted, and after a short
tussle over the remote, which he let her win, they settled
on a documentary about the Viking people showing on PBS.

Mulder dozed during the program, naturally, and she found
herself hoping the drugs would work out of his system
soon--all this sleeping was making her nervous.  Although
she knew he needed it, knew his body insisted upon it,
having him so quiet was almost like having him gone.

No, she reminded herself firmly as she returned from one of
her quarter-hourly trips to the bathroom, not like having
him gone, not at all.  When he was sleeping she could see
him, touch him, smell him, snuggle against him...if she was
quiet she could even hear him breathing.  Not like having
him gone at all.

She studied Mulder intently while he slept, and her mind
drifted back to the x-rays.  What had made those almost
imperceptible breaks in his bones that were so exact they
looked like slices?  Had they somehow...the thought was too
horrendous, and she shook it off.  Besides, there weren't
any corresponding marks on his skin, which made the whole
thing doubly curious.  How could they possibly have broken
his bones in such a precise manner without marring the skin
at all?

And did he remember?  Was he awake through it all?  He said
he did.  She shuddered.  She remembered a long-ago medical
professor telling the class, "Orthopedic pain is generally
considered to be the worst kind of pain.  When you have a
patient who has had any type of orthopedic surgery, you're
not going to be giving them the lightweight stuff.  You're
going to be giving them morphine."

The idea of Mulder enduring such an awful thing while awake
and aware brought tears to her eye.  The Viking program had
ended, so Scully began flipping channels in search of
something that might help cheer her up.  She belched
quietly, cursing that piece of garlic bread she'd just had
to have, and shifted position.  She wanted her Tums, but
they were in the bedroom and she didn't feel like going for
them.

"Not very ladylike," Mulder murmured, reaching sleepily for
the remote control.

She surrendered it, feeling the urge to urinate yet again
coming on, knowing it was as good an excuse as any to fetch
her antacid tablets.  When she left him, he was happily
immersing himself in a sports news program, and she found
herself suddenly fiercely glad that he hadn't missed all of
the basketball season.  At least he could indulge a few of
his passions.

She doubled over with a gas pain halfway to the bedroom.
Breathing deeply and slowly, she stood up, still for a
moment to make sure the pain was gone, then finished the
trip to the bathroom.  She swore under her breath when she
sat on the toilet--her panties were already wet with
droplets of urine, and it irritated her.  Must *every*
bodily function be made more difficult during pregnancy? Was
she going to have to deal with incontinence now, as well?
She sat there for several minutes, but couldn't seem to get
the urine to flow--it was as if she could do nothing but
drip.  A sudden thought struck her, and she raised her head
in shock, staring straight ahead as she realized what was
happening.

It was almost two weeks early, but her water had broken. She
was having the baby.  She hauled herself to her feet with
assistance from the towel rack yet again, and yanked up her
panties.  She could feel the fluid leaking from her now, not
gushing, it didn't always gush, she knew, but a steady flow.

"Mulder!" she yelled, hoping he would hear her and come--he
slept awfully soundly nowadays.  "I need your help!"

She would never know what got him in there so quickly, would
never realize that she was parroting the exact words she'd
screamed into his answering machine all those years ago when
Duane Barry had taken her, but before she could draw breath
to yell again, he was there, his face white and worried,
leaning against the wall for support.

"Scully, what is it?  What's happened?" he demanded quickly,
and she made a calming motion with her hands.  Damn, he was
more nervous than she.

"My water's broken," she told him breathlessly, reaching for
a towel to shove between her legs, discarding the now
soaked, useless panties.  "We have to get to the hospital."

He gaped at her.  "You're having the baby *now*?"

She sucked in her breath as another of those "gas pains" hit
her, clutching at his arm to keep from falling, and he
supported her gently, helping her into the bedroom when the
pain had passed, seating her on the side of the bed.

"Not right this second, but soon, I think," she told him,
and smiled at his fretfulness.  "Relax, Mulder.  We have a
while yet, the baby's not going to arrive here in the
bedroom.  Could you get me a fresh pair of panties, please?"

Numbly, he did as instructed, bending down to help her step
into them.

"I have a bag packed, in the closet on the floor," she told
him next, and he fetched it quickly.

He reached for her, pulling her to her feet, and she stopped
him.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah, Scully, what do you need?"  He brushed his fingers
through his hair frantically.

"Put your shoes on."

He glanced down at his bare feet, rolled his eyes, and raced
into the living room, his adrenalin rush giving him energy
that he wouldn't have had under normal circumstances.  By
the time he'd pulled on his socks and forced his feet into
his sneakers, Scully had already put in a call to the
doctor, and to Skinner.

"Walter promised to drive me to the hospital when the time
arrived," she told Mulder calmly, "and frankly, I don't
think you're in any condition to drive right now."

He nodded, with a look of exasperation on his face--he knew
it was true, but still, *he* wanted to be the one to help
Scully.  After all, this was *their* baby, hers and his, and
Walter Skinner didn't seem to belong in this scenario.

In the next second he was chiding himself for his
selfishness, reminding himself that not only had Skinner
been there for Scully when he couldn't be, but that Skinner
had been the one to come to Oregon and rescue him from those
first few, awful days.  He wasn't so much a boss right now
as he was a friend...as odd as that thought felt, he owed
Skinner.  Now it looked like he would owe him even more.

Scully sat next to him, breathing slowly through another
pain, and Mulder put his hand on her belly, hoping to
massage some of the agony away.

"Don't do that!" she snapped, and he jerked away as if
burned.

Once the pain had passed, she took his hand in hers.
"Sorry," she apologized.  "It hurts more when you do that.
If you want to, you could massage my lower back.  It's
killing me."

She turned so she was facing away from him, and felt his
tender hands stroke over her back, rubbing gently, not too
hard, not too fast, just right.

"Perfect," she told him, leaning her head against the back
of the sofa.

"Scully?"

"Hmmm?"

"How long is this going to take?"

She heard the barely-disguised panic in his voice, and
smiled.  The eternal male question: 'How long are you going
to have to hurt like this?'

"There's no way to tell, Mulder," she replied, bracing
herself for the next pain--they were coming much more
quickly now.

"If it continues like this, I'd say not long!" she gasped
when it hit, and reaching back, pushed his hands away from
her until it had passed.

"I won't touch you while you're having a pain," he told her,
"but you have to tell me when they start."

She nodded, still gathering breath from the last one, and
they sat there together for the next fifteen minutes, him
rubbing her back until a contraction hit, then backing off
until she relaxed again.

Skinner knocked at the door and Mulder jumped up to let him
in.  He strode into the living room, looking both agents up
and down.

"Time to go?" he asked Scully, and she nodded gratefully.
"Mulder?  You okay?"

"I'm fine, Sir," he said firmly.  "At least for now."

The trip to the hospital was uneventful, for which Scully
was grateful.  The idea of giving birth in the back seat of
Skinner's Oldsmobile was unappealing in the extreme, and she
breathed a sigh of relief when they pulled up to the doors
of the emergency room.

Skinner went inside to tell the staff what was happening
while Mulder helped her from the car, and soon two orderlies
and a nurse appeared, one pushing a wheelchair in which they
quickly settled Scully.

"Is one of you two gentlemen the father?" asked a nurse, and
Skinner and Mulder both turned their gazes from the door
where Scully had disappeared.

"I'm--I'm the father," answered Mulder in a shaky voice, and
Skinner watched him closely, wondering if he was about to go
down.

"I'll need to get some information from you, Sir, and then
you can join your wife."

"She's not--we're not--"

"I have the information you'll need," Skinner broke in,
stepping forward.  At Mulder's expression, he added, "Scully
gave it to me while you were gone, Mulder.  Just in case. Go
on in, I'll take care of this and call Mrs. Scully."

Mulder gave a slight shake of his head and turned away,
pushing through the double doors where they'd taken Scully.
When he reached the Labor and Delivery ward, he was
immediately spotted by a nurse, who showed him into the
cubicle where Scully was being hooked up to a fetal monitor.
Someone was starting an IV on her and someone else was
asking her questions, but she ignored them all when she saw
him.

"Mulder," she smiled.  "I thought you'd gotten lost."

"Skinner's taking care of stuff out there," he said, feeling
suddenly shy in this world of pregnant women and medical
personnel.

He felt a wave of panic from the hospital smells assaulting
his senses--too much too much like them--but just as they
threatened to overwhelm him, Scully gasped, and he was able
to push the memories away and concentrate on the baby that
seemed in such a hurry to meet the world.  He knew nothing
about this, he realized, and he shook off a wave of sadness
that he had missed attending childbirth classes with Scully.
It didn't matter now.  All that mattered was make sure their
baby arrived, and that he and his mother were safe.

"My mother?" she asked, gasping as another pain hit.

"Walter said he'd call her."

Once all the nurses had cleared out, he sat in a chair
beside her bed, holding her hand quietly.  Every few minutes
she would begin her deep breathing, and she would squeeze
his hand tightly until the contraction passed.  Every bone
in his left hand ached horribly, but he kept still about it,
not wanting to sound as if he was complaining while she lay
there in the preliminary stages of giving birth.

-----

Seven hours later, Mulder was ready to scream with fatigue
and frustration.  Scully wasn't even holding back, snapping
at him, the nurses, the doctor, and anyone else who happened
by.  Skinner had checked in once, more to see if Mulder was
doing all right than Scully, about whom he had no doubts,
and retreated quickly when she ground out, "Doesn't anybody
have anything better to do than come in here and stare at
me?"  Maggie Scully, having been through this four times
herself, had come in to see her daughter, stayed for a few
minutes, kissed Dana's cheek, and taken herself off to wait
and drink coffee.

Mulder begged Scully to take something for the pain, but she
steadfastly refused, finally telling him she was the fucking
doctor and she would fucking decide when she needed some
fucking drugs.  After that, he kept quiet, rubbing her back
when she wanted it, offering his hand for her to crush when
she had a pain, and generally lying low.

Finally she seemed to have a break--the contractions backed
off a bit and Scully fell into a light sleep.  Mulder saw
this as a good thing, but unfortunately, the doctors did
not.

"I want to do an ultrasound," Dr. Richards said, pressing
his hands lightly around Scully's abdomen.  "Something's not
quite right in there, but I can't figure out what it is. The
baby isn't in any distress, according to the monitor, but
she's not making any progress."

Mulder held back, watching, worried, while they brought in
yet another machine and a technician to match.  Scully woke
up during all the disturbance, her eyes seeking out Dr.
Richards immediately.

"What's wrong?  What's wrong with my baby?" she demanded.

"Probably nothing, except that he's an active little
fellow," Dr. Richards assured her.  "This is Mark, he's
going to do a quick check on you to make sure the baby's
still in the proper position.  I have a feeling the little
sucker may have twisted on us, but I can't tell from simple
palpation."

Scully's gaze went straight to the fetal monitor, but it
showed nothing unusual.

"No cord, I hope," she said, relaxing back with a sigh.

"Probably not," he agreed.  "Now if you'll just hang tight
for a minute, we'll find out what Mark can see."

Sure enough, a few seconds later Mark announced, "Transverse
lie."

"Shit," muttered Scully.  "Can you turn him?"

Dr. Richards bit his lip.  "I might be able to, Dana, but
that would only increase the risk of the cord wrapping.  I
think you'd better resign yourself to surgery."

"Surgery?" demanded Mulder.  "What the hell does 'transverse
lie' mean?  What's wrong?"

"Means your child, while going for a two-pointer, managed to
turn himself sideways," she told him, reaching for his hand.
"It's nothing, don't worry.  I'll have a simple c-section,
and soon we'll have our baby."

"Scully, surgery is *not* nothing!"

"Mr. Mulder could I ask you to wait in the waiting room down
the hall? Someone will let you know as soon as it's over.
C-sections don't take long."

"But--"

"Mulder, do as he says!  I'll be fine," Scully ordered, and
then they were wheeling her away from him, leaving him
standing in an empty cubicle that only moments before had
contained the woman he adored, preparing to give birth to
their child.

Dejectedly, he made his way down the corridor in one
direction, turning to look back just as they wheeled Scully
into an operating room at the other end of the hall.
Suddenly he felt all the breath leave his body, as if he was
floating in a vacuum, and he reached blindly for the wall,
his hand seeking support and finding none, before the scream
emerged from deep within him.  Skinner and Mrs. Scully heard
the noise, racing from the waiting room just in time to see
Mulder fall, hitting his head with a *thunk* against the
wall on his way to the floor.

Mrs. Scully immediately rushed down the hall toward the
nurses station while Skinner tended to Mulder.  He was
relieved to note that Mulder hadn't lost consciousness, and
that the sudden bump on the head seemed to have brought him
out of his impending panic attack.

"You okay?" he asked, lifting Mulder so he could sit,
leaning him against the wall.

"...hurt her don't let them hurt her..." Mulder mumbled,
rubbing at his head.

"Mulder!" Skinner barked, taking his agent's face in both
hands and forcing him to focus.  "Nobody's going to hurt
anybody.  Scully's going to have your baby.  She'll be
fine."

Mulder's eyes, wide and panicked, flitted around for a
moment before zeroing in on Skinner's face.  "Sir?" he asked
weakly, as if only just realizing where he was.

"Yeah, Mulder, it's me.  Everything's all right.  How does
your head feel?"

Mulder stared at him for a moment, then slumped back against
the wall.  "Is this ever going to stop?" he moaned, and
Skinner put his hands underneath Mulder's arms, lifting him
to his feet.

"It's been less than a week," he admonished as he guided
Mulder toward the waiting room.  "It's going to take a while
for the flashbacks and panic attacks to go away."

He pushed Mulder lightly into a chair, and soon  Maggie
returned with a nurse to check him out.  The nurse examined
the bump, asked him some questions, and announced that he
was probably just going to have a small lump, but that if he
experienced any dizziness, disorientation or nausea to
inform her immediately.

Once she departed, Mulder sat restlessly, fidgeting,
shifting position every few seconds--Skinner could tell
Mulder wanted to pace but didn't have the energy. The past
eight hours had taken their toll on the father as well as
the mother.  He made Mulder lean forward so he could check
where he'd hit his head, and grinned ruefully at the
sight--a small lump, but no broken skin, and Mulder seemed
to have forgotten all about it. Hard-headed as ever, Skinner
thought when Mulder jerked his head away, irritated at the
attention.

Maggie sat quietly, paging through 'Better Homes and
Gardens,' but the men were not so calm.  Since Mulder
couldn't pace, Skinner did it for him, roaming the room
restlessly, staring out the window, watching the television,
which was tuned to CNN Headline News, repeating the same
stories over and over ad nauseam, and idly searching through
the magazines available, finding nothing of interest, but
finally settling on 'Fishing World' simply because it held
more appeal than 'Family Circle' or 'People.'

He seated himself next to Mulder, who was making a visible
effort to remain composed, and flipped open the magazine. He
pretended to scan the page, but his attention was really
focused on the man beside him, carefully observing Mulder to
make certain he didn't slip back into his panic.  It was
obvious the flashback had passed, probably eliminated by the
blow to his head, but the nervousness remained.  Skinner
supposed it had to do with Scully being wheeled into the
operating room.  It had most likely reminded Mulder of being
taken for testing--he didn't know exactly what his agent had
suffered, and wasn't sure he wanted details, but Billy had
told him Mulder had been restrained much of the time.

He'd been watching Mulder for less than fifteen minutes when
a nurse poked her head into the room.

"Mr. Scully?"  she asked, glancing at the two men.

"Mulder," Skinner corrected, indicating the nervous agent.
"He's the father."

The nurse smiled.  "Sorry.  Just wanted to let you know that
mother and baby are both doing fine."

Mulder jumped to his feet, no longer controlling his
apprehension.

"Can I see them?" he asked anxiously.

"Your--Miss Scully is still in surgery.  The baby will be
taken to the nursery in just a few minutes, after they've
cleaned him up.  If you'll follow me, I'll take you there."

Both men and Maggie Scully trotted obediently after the
nurse until they reached the swinging double doors that led
to the nursery.

"Family only, beyond this point, I'm afraid," she said,
looking pointedly at Skinner, and Skinner stopped
automatically.

Mulder grabbed his arm, towing him along.  "He's family," he
told the nurse firmly, and didn't wait for her arguments,
pulling Skinner through the doors toward the big glass
window that gave an unobstructed view of the nursery.

There were seven babies there already, and Mulder gazed at
them with a sense of awe.  In just moments, his child, his
and Scully's, would join these children, new to the world,
innocent and trusting.  All of them were miracles, in their
own small way, but his and Scully's... Mulder swallowed a
lump.  There could be no greater miracle, he decided, and
when a nurse pushed an empty bassinet to the window with a
card inside that said, "It's a boy!" and below that,
"Scully-Mulder" he felt a burst of pride, and a huge grin
broke out on his face.

"Our baby, Walter," he whispered, touching the glass.
"Scully's baby."

Maggie cried unashamedly.  Skinner said nothing, but his
face was full of wonder as well, and a few moments later,
when the nursery door opened and another nurse carried a
tiny, blue-blanket-wrapped bundle over and placed him in the
bassinet, Mulder felt tears forming in his eyes.

He tried to stop them spilling over, but two made their way
down his face, and then two more. He couldn't help them. His
son, this was *his* son, this beautiful, perfect child with
dark brown fuzz on his head and Scully's nose--he could see
that at once.  The mouth was his, and Mulder gave an inward
sigh--the kid would be teased unmercifully by his peers, he
knew from experience, but that lower lip looked so adorable
jutting out there as the little mouth smacked, seeking food.
As he watched, a perfect, miniature hand freed itself from
the blanket and waved frantically, and then the mouth opened
wider and began to scream.

Mulder leaned his forehead against the glass and felt still
more tears coursing down his cheeks.

"He's beautiful," he managed, his voice choked.  "Can you
believe it?  My son..."

"I've had almost nine months to get used to the idea, and I
still can't believe it, Mulder," Skinner stated, his voice
low and reverent.

"I never thought my baby girl would have her own baby,"
Maggie said through her tears.

All three felt as if they were sharing a highly spiritual
moment--although the meaning may have been different for
each of them--as they stared at the child they had all
believed could never be...perfection in a small package,
screaming for his supper.

"Mr. Mulder?"  They both turned at the voice, and saw Gina,
the nurse who had been with Scully during the long hours of
labor.

"Where's Scully?" he asked immediately, feeling a twinge of
guilt that he had been so awed by their child that he'd
forgotten to ask about the mother.

Gina beamed.  "She's fine.  She's in recovery, and she's
asking for you.  If you three will come with me..."

Skinner and Mulder exchanged a glance; of course Scully
would want her mother, and naturally the father would be
allowed into the inner sanctum, but they were surprised that
Skinner invited, in this hospital that seemed to adhere so
strictly to the "family only" rule.  Mulder finally decided
that Scully had probably asked for them both. Nobody was
likely to screw with her, especially not now.

Gina took them through yet another set of double doors, into
a room where patients were separated from one another by
curtained cubicles.  Scully lay in the center cubicle, eyes
closed, red hair brighter than usual against her pale, tired
face, but that same face reflected her unimaginable joy.

"Scully?" he murmured gently, slipping his hand into hers,
and she opened her eyes.

"Mulder, did you see him?  Isn't he perfect?"  Her voice was
still a little slurred from the anesthesia, but she seemed
reasonably cognizant.

"Perfectly perfect," he agreed, leaning over to kiss her
forehead.  "Good work, mom."

"Couldn't have done it without you," she grinned.  "Mom, did
you see him?"

Maggie smiled happily, her face still damp from her tears.
"He's beautiful, Dana.  He looks just like you, only he has
brown hair like Fox."

"He has Mulder's mouth," Scully corrected sleepily.  "I'd
know that mouth anywhere."

Another nurse approached to take readings on the numerous
monitors attached to Scully, and politely informed them,
"I'm afraid I can only let one of you stay."

"Mulder," said Scully, refusing to relinquish his hand, and
Mulder didn't have to be asked twice.  He pulled up the only
chair in the cubicle close to her bed and sat there, his
eyes glued to her face.

"She's so pale," he told the nurse, whose badge read 'Carl'
with a whole host of letters tacked on after his name.  Carl
nodded at Mulder's concern.

"It's perfectly natural, after what she's been through," he
assured the nervous father.  "She'll get her color back
soon."

"When will you be taking her to her room?" asked Mrs.
Scully.

"Probably in another hour, possibly two.  We want to make
sure she comes out from under the anesthesia with no
complications."

"Dana, Mr. Skinner and I will be in the waiting room,"
Maggie said, kissing her daughter again.  "We'll see you
later."

"Bye, Mom," Scully said sleepily.  "Walter--thank you for
everything."

"Take care, Dana," he replied, giving her arm a squeeze, and
then they were gone, leaving Mulder and Scully alone.

She slept, then, her body succumbing to the effects of the
anesthetic, and an hour later they moved her to a private
room.  Mulder stood by proudly as they wheeled his son into
the room in his bassinet, and Scully roused at the sound of
the baby crying.

"He's hungry," the nurse smiled, gathering up the baby and
placing him carefully in his mother's arms.  Mulder watched
in awe as Scully put their son to her breast and the tiny
mouth began to suckle.

The nurse, seeing that the small family was doing fine, told
Scully to call her if she needed anything, and made herself
scarce.  Mulder sat beside Scully, stroking his son's soft
cheek while the infant fed, eyes closed, making small
contented noises.

"He likes this," Scully observed, and Mulder grinned.

"It's one of his daddy's favorite places to be," he replied
wickedly.  "Hey kiddo, leave some for me."

Scully laughed aloud, startling the baby, then soothing him
when he released her nipple and began to cry.  Soon, he was
feeding happily once more, and Scully smiled at Mulder,
sniffing back her tears.  The baby finished his meal, and
Scully shifted him to her shoulder, burped him, then simply
held him while he succumbed to sleep.

"He's beautiful," she said softly, gazing at Mulder with an
expression of sheer happiness.  "Mulder, he's beautiful. I
love you."

Before Mulder could answer, Mrs. Scully knocked at the door.

"Can I come in?" she asked, sticking her head inside the
room, and Scully nodded.

"I think he's finished, finally," she said, pulling the
dozing baby away from her breast and arranging her gown. She
handed Stephen to his adoring grandmother, who proceeded to
rock him gently, murmuring nonsense words and phrases into
his tiny ears.

"He has an appetite like his daddy," Scully teased, gazing
fondly at her mother and son.

"I have no idea to what you are referring," said Mulder
pointedly, and Scully smiled again.  It seemed all she
wanted to do these days.

"I'd like to talk to the two of you about that," Maggie said
firmly, and Scully rolled her eyes.

"About eating?" Mulder asked, deliberately misunderstanding,
and Maggie frowned.

"I don't like the idea of my daughter having a child out of
wedlock," she told them seriously.  "I know you're an adult
now, Dana, and it's your decision, but this is my
grandchild.  You can't expect me not to have an opinion.  It
was different when Fox was--missing, but he's here now."

Mulder's mouth tightened momentarily at her referral to his
abduction, but he said nothing.  Scully was not quite so
subdued.

"Mom, Mulder just got back," she reminded Maggie gently.
"He's still got a lot of trauma to work through.  I don't
think you should throw this at him right now.  It's
something we can talk about later, after life settles down."

Maggie smiled.  "Honey, let me tell you something.  Once you
have a child, life *never* settles down.  You don't realize
that yet, but you will soon.  And Fox..." She bent to give
him a quick kiss on the cheek.  "You know I love you.  I
don't mean to put any pressure on you, but I needed to let
you know how I feel about all this.  Now, I won't mention it
again, I promise.  I'm going to go home and get some rest,
and I'll see you both in the morning."

She bent to kiss Stephen, sleeping peacefully in his
mother's arms, then Dana, and finally Mulder.  "It's good to
have you back, Fox," she whispered, giving him a quick hug
before slipping out of the room.

Skinner, who had entered a few minutes after Maggie but had
held back during the conversation, stepped forward.

"I should be going, too," he told them.  "Mulder, I know
you'd like to stay, but..."

"I'm not leaving Scully or the baby," Mulder said firmly,
and Skinner gave him a searching look.  "I'm fine, Walter.
Really."

"Mulder, you know the flashbacks can come upon you suddenly,
and maybe a hospital isn't the best place for you to be
right now."

"I want to stay."  Mulder put on his stubborn face, and
Skinner sighed.  He'd never had much luck getting past
that--Mulder would say whatever Skinner wanted to hear, then
go off and do as he pleased anyway.  It took Scully to break
the impasse.

"Mulder, I think he's right," she said softly, and he stared
at her, breaking her heart with his hurt look.  Steeling
herself, she went on, "It could be dangerous, for you and
for Stephen.  If anything happens, I'm in no condition to
help you."

"We'll come back first thing in the morning," Skinner
promised, taking Mulder's arm, sensing a victory.  "You can
stay at my place tonight."

"I don't want to," Mulder insisted, and it was Scully's turn
to sigh.

"Walter, would you give us a minute, please?" she asked, and
Skinner nodded and left the room.

"Mulder--"

"Scully, please," Mulder said, turning to her after Skinner
was gone. "I just want to be with you.  I don't want to
leave you and I don't want to leave Stephen."

"I know," she replied sadly. "I don't want you to go, but we
have to think of our baby now.  Mulder, think about it--what
would happen if you had one of your flashbacks, a bad one?
You don't know what you're doing when that happens.  You
might hurt him."

"I wouldn't hurt him!" Mulder retorted, aghast at her
suggestion.  "Scully, I would *never* harm our baby, you
know that!"

"I know you wouldn't mean to," she answered, unswayed, "but
what if you did?  Are you telling me that you can predict
just what you'll do?"  She stared at him, daring him to
disagree, and after a minute of returning her gaze
obstinately, his shoulders slumped and his eyes closed in
defeat.

"Fine," he muttered.  "But don't expect me to be happy about
it."

"I'm not happy about it either," she reminded him, her face
filled with love as he took the baby from her and returned
him to the bassinet.  He came back to her side and leaned
over to kiss her.  "I'll miss you," she whispered after the
first chaste peck, pulling him back for another kiss.

This one was longer than the first, not the quick smack on
the lips he'd intended but a real kiss, and Mulder felt
himself growing warm at her touch.

"All right," he said at last, straightening up.  "We'd
better stop now, or little Stephen will get more of an
education than he needs at this stage of his life."

"Go home with Walter, Mulder," she commanded, clutching at
his hand.  "And come back in the morning.  Early."

He raised her fingers to his lips for one last kiss,
caressed his son's face gently, then left without looking
back.  Skinner saw the heartbreak on Mulder's face when he
emerged from the room.

"I know you don't like it, Mulder, but it's really for the
best," he told the agent, feeling the inadequacy of the
words and yet at a loss for anything better to say.

"I hate it," Mulder said fiercely.  "And I hate *them* for
doing this to me.  This is the most important thing that's
ever happened in my life, and I can't experience it to the
fullest because of what they did."

"Don't worry, Mulder," Skinner said, throwing his arm across
Mulder's shoulders and leading him down the corridor.  "One
day, you'll make them pay.  I know you will."

Mulder's nightmares that night were worse than ever, and
while Skinner was watching over him as Mulder tried to claw
his way through the wall, Skinner breathed a prayer of
thanks that Scully, at least, could get through to Mulder.

-----

The crying woke them both at 3:47 a.m., and Scully switched
on the lamp beside the bed, still groggy with sleep.

"I'll get him," she mumbled, easing herself carefully out of
bed.  She'd been home from the hospital for two days, but it
was still impossible for her to move quickly.  She walked
bent over, like a hunchback, Mulder had teased, but she
wouldn't let him coddle her.

"Damn," she muttered, stumbling for what felt like the
thousandth time over the giant toy the Gunmen had arrived
with on the day after the baby's birth.

"Mulder, I swear, if I trip over this bear Stephen's
"uncles" brought him one more time..."

She let the threat hang while Mulder snagged the bear off
the floor, setting it on the end of the bed where Stephen
could see it.  He had almost hurt himself laughing when they
guys had arrived, storming into Scully's hospital room with
Frohike in the lead, carrying the enormous stuffed animal
that was almost as tall as he.  Scully had just rolled her
eyes and smiled.  The guys would never change.

"I have to use the bathroom, can you talk to him for a
minute?"

"Sure," he smiled as she handed him the wailing infant, and
Mulder immediately began to rock him back and forth,
babbling soothing words.

"Mommy's getting your food, we just have to give her a
minute.  Yes, she doesn't understand how hungry a boy gets,
does she?  Mommy will be right here, she'll take care of
everything.  She always does that.  How about if I tell you
a story, would you like that?  I'll tell you about a man I
met once named Eugene Tooms.  He had reeeeealy long arms,
and..."

Scully smiled at the Mulderspeak as she hurried to wash her
hands and get back to Stephen.  As she turned, her elbow
bumped a glass that Mulder had left on the bathroom counter,
and before she could catch it,  it went crashing to the
floor.

"Damn," she muttered as the glass shattered, stepping
carefully around the pieces.  Half a second later she forgot
all about the safety of her feet in her haste to get to
Mulder.  It wasn't easy--she could barely move, and needed
the wall for support at times, but she managed to make her
way into the bedroom as quickly as possible.

Mulder had dropped Stephen on the bed, where the baby lay
squalling and frantically waving.  He had retreated to the
floor beside the bed, where he was desperately trying to
shove himself beneath the heavy piece of furniture.  It
wasn't as high off the floor as the bed in Billy Miles'
guest room, and Mulder wasn't having much success, but he
was giving it the old college try, nonetheless, screaming as
loudly as his son.

"Don't!  No!  Leave me alone!  I won't let you touch me
again, you bastards!"

Scully quickly scooped up her son and deposited him in his
crib at the foot of the bed, then knelt down beside Mulder.
She had enough experience now to know not to touch him, but
she did her best to talk him out of it, knowing that if she
could ground him in reality with her voice, he would
gradually overcome his panic.

"Mulder!  Mulder, it's me, listen to me, nothing is going to
hurt you.  Mulder, no one is going to hurt you, I promise,
listen to me, you have to come back.  Mulder, you have to
come back.  Mulder, Stephen needs you, you have to listen to
me."

The sound of his son's name seemed to reach Mulder, and he
froze all at once, giving up his struggle to hide under the
bed as his eyes began to slowly focus on his surroundings.
Finally, after the usual darting around the room, they fixed
on hers, finding calm and comfort in her steady blue gaze.

"Scully?" he whispered.  "Oh my god, Scully, what did I do?"

"It's all right."  Now that the crisis was past, she leaned
against the side of the bed, exhausted and relieved, but
Mulder only heard his son's cries.

"Scully, what did I do?" he demanded again, hauling himself
from his position halfway beneath the bed and running for
the crib.

"Nothing, Mulder, he's all right," she assured him, pulling
herself up to sit on the edge of the bed.  "You didn't hurt
him."

Mulder picked up Stephen, cradling him in his arms as he
spoke to the baby.

"Sorry, daddy's so sorry baby, I'm so sorry."

Scully arranged herself against the pillows and reached for
the baby, and Mulder waited until his child was contentedly
suckling at Scully's breast before going into the bathroom.
His whole body was trembling, and he needed a glass of water
badly.

"What the hell?" he asked aloud, seeing the shards on the
floor, and Scully gave a strangled laugh.

"I broke a glass," she called softly.  "That's what set you
off. The noise..."

"Shit," he muttered, going to the kitchen for a broom and
dustpan.

He cleaned up the mess while Scully finished nursing the
baby, and once they had him tucked safely back into his bed,
snuggled up behind her and wrapped her in his arms.

He had so far managed to carefully avoid acknowledging what
the sound of shattered glass reminded him of, but very soon,
he knew, he would have to tell someone.  If he closed his
eyes, he could still see the glass container breaking, the
jar containing an alien-human fetus, could see the fluid
spreading across the floor as he sent another container to
join it, and another.  He frowned--he couldn't recall how he
had gotten into the room, he could only remember the feeling
of urgency to destroy the aliens' horrible science project.

He'd only managed to smash the three before they came for
him, grasping at his arms with hands that looked human but
possessed the power of five strong men.  They'd let him
scream his curses at them, oblivious to his cries, his
struggles, or the curious eyes of the other abductees as
they'd dragged him into the testing room, and then it had
been the shock, the tiny, electrode-like pads all over his
body and they hadn't even tried to control him that time,
hadn't even *tried*, they'd *wanted* him to suffer, he
remembered realizing as the pain began and he started
screaming that they *did* know, they *did* understand human
suffering, and this was revenge, this was punishment, and
his throat grew raw as his screaming went on and on and on--

"Mulder!" Scully said sharply, feeling the tension in his
body building moment by moment, as the vision assaulted him.
He jerked at the sound of her voice and, inhaling deeply,
exhaling slowly, forced himself to banish the memory.

After long minutes of silence, he whispered against her
hair, "I'm sorry, Scully."

Scully shook her head gently.  "It's all right, Mulder.
Nothing happened."

She yawned, half asleep already, and barely heard his
muttered, "But it might have."

Stephen cried again at five, and Mulder sleepwalked to the
crib, handed him to Scully, and then returned him when the
feeding was finished, quickly changing his diaper, grinning
at the fact that he had already become an expert at the
task.  All three slept for several hours then, only stirring
when the infant's hunger once again awakened them.

"Kid sure has an appetite," he commented, holding the baby
while Scully used the bathroom--washing her hands very
carefully this time--then settling Stephen against her
breast for his mid-morning snack.

"Mom has one, too," she replied, stroking the fuzz on
Stephen's head.  "I'm starving."

Mulder disappeared into the kitchen, and by the time she had
finished feeding Stephen, changed him and placed him in the
middle of the big bed where he was safe from the edges,
Mulder returned with a small tray.

"Breakfast in bed," he announced proudly, setting the tray
over her lap, and she grinned.

She'd stocked up on frozen, easily prepared items several
weeks earlier, mostly because she expected to be dealing
with an infant by herself, and Mulder had taken one of the
breakfast meals in her freezer, heated it in the microwave,
and arranged it carefully on a plate.

"Good work, chef," she teased.  "How'd you do that so
quickly?"

"I'm good," he boasted, snitching a piece of bacon from her
plate.

"You sure are," she agreed, and he bit his lip.

"Stop looking at me like that, Scully," he pleaded.  "We
can't do anything for weeks, and here you sit, deliberately
torturing me."

Her answer was another smoldering look.  Wickedly, she put a
slice of the bacon in her mouth, running her tongue up and
down it seductively before biting it sharply in two.

"You think this is funny!" he accused as he watched her give
up the playfulness and quickly down her breakfast.

"Hey, I've hardly slept in the last week," she returned,
scooping up the last of the scrambled eggs with her fork.
"I'm easily amused when I'm tired."

She watched as Mulder played with his son, holding out his
finger, moving it back and forth for the baby to track, then
laughing when Stephen managed to grab it.

"Ouch!" he yelped in mock pain, and then turned to her
proudly when the baby gurgled.  "He laughed at me, Scully,
did you hear him?"

"Sure he did, Mulder," she agreed, rolling her eyes sleepily
and relaxing against the pillows.

"Hmph," he said, turning back to his son, who was now
yawning in his face.  "Mommy doesn't believe me, but we know
the truth, don't we, Stephen?"

The baby gurgled again when Mulder picked him up, and after
being walked throughout the apartment three or four times,
fell asleep with his head against Mulder's shoulder.
Carefully, Mulder placed him in his crib, covered him, and
headed for the shower.

While he was standing under the steaming spray, Mulder
allowed his thoughts to drift to the crisis they'd
experienced in the middle of the night.  He could face that
memory now, horrible though it was, but how many others
waited in the shadows of his recollection, poised to ambush
when he was least prepared?  It sent a pain directly through
his heart to know that he might have injured his son, and by
the time he shut off the water, Mulder had reached a
decision.  It was one he had avoided, one he didn't want to
come to, but after last night he knew he had no choice.

He was going to have to get help dealing with the
flashbacks.

He waited until Scully had showered and dressed to broach
the subject.  They were sitting on either end of the sofa,
Stephen lying between them, guarded carefully by his doting
parents lest he wiggle too close to the edge and fall off.

"Scully, I have to see someone."

The statement came out of nowhere, and she stared at him in
surprise.

"By 'someone' you mean..."

"A psychiatrist," he affirmed, meeting her eyes steadily.
She had tried to convince him to seek help and he had
steadfastly refused, but that was before he had endangered
his son by losing himself in a flashback while holding him.

The smile on Scully's face made the difficult decision
worthwhile, and she squeezed his hand lovingly.

"Thank you, Mulder," she said softly.  "I know you don't
want to do this, and I'm very proud of you."

A little overcome, he dropped his eyes to their son, who was
quietly examining his surroundings with wide, dark blue
eyes.

"I have to," he answered, tickling Stephen's chin playfully.
"If I had hurt him...god Scully, it would kill me."

"*I* would kill you," she retorted, only half in jest. "I'll
kill anyone who tries to hurt our son."

He raised his head to look at her and was surprised by the
determination he saw on her face.

"It's that "mother bear" instinct, isn't it?" he grinned.
"I've seen it in action before, but never with quite this
level of ferocity."

"I don't like doing things by halves," she commented,
sticking her fingers into Stephen's diaper to feel if he
needed changing.  "That's why I think we should discuss what
Mom said at the hospital."

"You mean...about getting married."

She nodded.  "Mulder, I'm not trying to rush you into
anything, I just think..."

"What, Scully?" he prompted when she trailed off.

She took a breath.  "I just think our son deserves two
parents who love each other and are legally married."

"Two parents who love each other isn't enough?"

She shook her head lightly, her eyes on the baby.  "Not for
me.  And not for him."

Mulder leaned against the sofa back, staring at the ceiling.

"We don't have to, of course," she said, trying to keep the
hurt out of her voice, but he heard it, and turned to look
at her with all his uncertainty showing in his eyes.

"Scully, you know I love you, right?" he asked slowly.

She nodded once.

"I just don't see what the big deal is.  I've been married
before.  It's not all it's cracked up to be."

She made a noise of exasperation that caused little Stephen
to jump, so she picked him up and held him before he could
begin to cry.

"Maybe it was because you didn't marry the right person,"
she replied evenly, keeping her attention on her son. Mulder
had told her about his brief, disastrous marriage to Diana
Fowley, and it was a topic she didn't care to discuss
further.

He exhaled slowly, suddenly exhausted by the whole
conversation.  "Maybe," he muttered.

Scully saw his fatigue and, in spite of her desire to
resolve things, decided a change of topic was in order.

"So, when are you planning to see this psychiatrist?" she
asked curiously, wondering if he would really go through
with it when push came to shove, or if *she* would end up
doing the shoving, of him, right through the doctor's office
door.

"Soon."

"Soon?" she repeated, one eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"Today," he amended, putting his hands behind his head and
leaning back in an attitude of casual relaxation belied by
the visible tension in his body.  "I'll call today for an
appointment.

"There's the phone," she said pointedly, nodding at the
telephone which sat, taunting him, on the coffee table.

With a slight grimace, out of options at last, Mulder slowly
reached for the telephone book. Reluctantly flipping through
the yellow pages until he reached 'Physicians - Psychiatry,"
he glanced over the listings, finally slamming the book in
disgust.

"I don't know any of those doctors," he complained.  "And
how the hell am I supposed to tell a psychiatrist what
happened to me, anyway?  They'll lock me up and throw away
the key."

Stephen started fussing, so Mulder took him from Scully and
stood up to walk him--it dealt with dual needs; both father
and son could work out their agitation with the movement.

"Mulder, you don't have to tell him everything," she replied
irritably.  "Tell him that because of the nature of your
job, you can't reveal details, but that you need help
getting over the flashbacks.  Surely the doctor doesn't have
to know every little fact in order to help get you past
that?"

He paced silently for a few minutes, then said thoughtfully,
"There might be another answer."

She waited.

"The guys," he reminded her.  "They knew a doctor who would
dope me up and do all those tests on me in confidence."

Scully flushed, still feeling guilty about that, even though
she knew it had been necessary.

"Maybe they know a psychiatrist who believes in little green
men," he continued, his tone mildly sarcastic.

"Grey," she corrected automatically, and he smiled, at last,
only a small one, but a smile.

"Grey."

-----

The guys didn't know a psychiatrist, it turned out, but "Dr.
Jones" did, one who was willing to accept extreme
possibilities, one who would deal with the problem at hand
rather than focusing on what had gotten Mulder there.
Thinking back to his psych training, Mulder thought it odd
that Dr. Alexander accepted so much from him without
question, but finally decided it didn't matter; all he
needed was to work out his PTSD, and this doctor was as good
as any when it came to that.  He shoved aside his nagging
suspicions that the guy was little more than a quack, and
did his best to participate honestly in the therapy.

It worked, too, and within a few weeks Mulder's nightmares
and flashbacks had diminished to the point that he no longer
feared endangering his son.  Oh, it was bad, at first.  The
situation actually worsened after the first few sessions,
because he was forcing himself to remember all the things
he'd tried to avoid.  In fact, it got so bad that Scully
called her mother to come stay with them for a week to help
her with Stephen.  She was never sure when Mulder was going
to wind up in the corner, blithering like an idiot, but she
learned to leave him alone when it happened, keeping an eye
on him to make sure he wasn't in danger, remaining nearby in
case he called for her, and then allowing him to work
through the flashback on his own.

She had to hand it to her mother--Maggie took all Mulder's
babbling talk of aliens and tests in her stride, never
questioning anything, and even talking him out of a few
episodes when Scully was busy with Stephen.

To her immense relief, he never tried to hurt himself, nor
did he ever mistake her or her mother for one of his alien
captors.  When he'd at last revealed the story of how he'd
destroyed the hybrid fetuses, her immediate fear was that he
might confuse Stephen with one of them during an episode.
Thankfully, that never happened either.

After six weeks of therapy, Mulder called Skinner and told
him he was ready to return to work.  He knew it would be
desk work only, for a while--he still wasn't in top physical
condition and he'd have to be re-certified for field agent
status, but at least he could get back to his files.  He'd
missed them.  Skinner readily agreed, knowing that if he
gave Mulder something else to focus on, it could only do the
man good.

Scully would be out on maternity leave for another two
weeks, so Mulder had the office to himself, and took the
opportunity to dig through all his old file folders,
organizing, discarding, prioritizing, and generally doing
the type of clean-up that Scully accused him of always
neglecting.  He pulled a few cases that he wanted to
investigate further when he was able, not time-critical
things, just stuff he wanted to check into.  He piled them
on the desk, thinking he might be able to do a little
research from the office, and gave a sharp laugh when he
remembered that annoying little auditor, telling him he
ought to be able to do his work on the Internet.  Little
bastard may have had a point, he conceded, but only a tiny
one.  Ninety-nine percent of their work still required a
hands-on approach.

Things began to settle into routine.  Mulder went to work
every day, leaving early two days a week to attend his
therapy sessions with Dr. Alexander, and it wasn't long
before he began to feel more in control of his life.

He still had occasional flashbacks, but he was learning to
deal with them.  Stephen was the joy of his existence, along
with Scully, and Mulder realized he was truly happy for the
first time in his recollection.  Since their one
conversation about marriage, Scully hadn't brought it up
again, and he found himself relaxing into the lifestyle they
had--easygoing and comfortable.  It wasn't that he didn't
*want* to marry her, he told himself, it was just that...he
didn't feel ready for another commitment.  Parenthood had
taken him by surprise and been thrust upon him suddenly--he
hadn't had months to prepare for it, as she had.  He would
marry her, he insisted inwardly, he really would.  Someday.
  
-----

Mulder leaned back in his chair and stretched, stifling a
yawn. It was Friday, the end of a long week, and Mulder was
more than ready to go home, eat a good dinner, relax with
his son in his arms, then go to bed and cuddle with Scully.
They had only recently been allowed to resume their normal
sexual activity, (although Mulder had to admit, Scully had
come up with some creative ways to relieve their tension
during the long six weeks after Stephen's birth) and he was
hoping they could get the baby to sleep early and spend some
quality time driving each other wild in Scully's bed.  Or
maybe on the sofa--he might not be able to make it to the
bedroom.  He could feel himself growing more aroused at the
thought, and reached for the mouse, intending to shut down
his computer and go home to his family. The email icon
flashed, and he almost ignored it.  He didn't want to work
any more today.  He wanted to be with his son.

Frowning, knowing if he didn't check he would obsess on it
all weekend, Mulder gave in to curiosity and clicked on the
mail icon.  Great, he sighed when the email folder popped
up. Junk mail.  How the hell do I get junk mail at a
government email address?

He wasn't going to open it, he intended to just move it to
the trash folder, but the fact that there was no subject
line wouldn't leave him alone.  Wondering what
get-rich-quick scheme could be so cryptic, he clicked the
message, then sat back in his chair, breathing heavily
through his sudden panic.  His vision blacked out until the
only thing he could see were the black words on the white
background.

"Tonight.  Eight p.m. behind Casey's bar.  Don't be late.
Important to the welfare of your child.  A.K."

Feeling his stomach begin to churn, Mulder shut down the
computer blindly, on auto-pilot, his mind racing with
possibilities.

Alex Krycek.  What the hell could he possibly want, and what
did it have to do with Stephen?

Rubbing his forehead, he chewed his lower lip thoughtfully.
The smart thing to do would be to go home and ignore this
message, he told himself.  The only thing was, he couldn't
do that.  He couldn't take the chance...what if Stephen was
in danger, and Krycek had important information that would
help him save their child?

With another heavy sigh, he shoved himself to his feet,
feeling the weariness rush over him.  Scully was going to
give him hell, he knew, but he had to go.  He had no choice.



Chapter 3

He wanted to hide it from her, but she saw in his face the
moment he walked into the apartment--something was wrong.

"What?" she demanded when he shut the door and leaned
against it wearily.  She was walking Stephen, burping him
after his afternoon feeding, and she bounced the baby in her
arms while she waited for his answer.  "Mulder, what is it?
Did something happen to you at work?"

He shook his head, turning around so she could see his face.
The lines there were deeper, she noticed, and the circles
beneath his eyes darker than they had been that morning.
He'd been doing well, really making progress with his
therapy--he'd learned to cope with the flashbacks to the
point that he was even able to drive; they didn't swallow
him up the way they had before.  Using Dr. Alexander's
recommended techniques, Mulder was able to keep himself
grounded in reality enough so as not to endanger himself or
anyone else.  They had both been hopeful that by the time
Scully was ready to return to work, Mulder would have his
field-agent status back, but looking at him now, for the
first time, she thought it might not happen.

She lay Stephen carefully in his carrier and approached
Mulder, walking slowly, uncertain of his state of mind, but
instead of the extreme reaction she'd feared, he opened his
arms to her.  With relief, she realized that while he was
obviously upset about something, he was at least clearly in
his right mind.

She went into his embrace, laying her head against his chest
as his arms came up to hold her tightly.  She could hear the
rapid beating of his heart, could feel the slight tremor in
his hands, and sent up a quick prayer that it wasn't all
starting again.

"Tell me?" she said against his chest, and his pocket
rustled as he reached in and withdrew a sheet of paper. He'd
printed out Krycek's message to show her, and as she read
the words, her eyes first grew wide, then narrowed in anger.
Krycek again.  Would he never be out of their lives?

"Don't go," she ordered flatly.  "Krycek has nothing to do
with us now.  He has nothing to do with Stephen."

"But what if he does, Scully?" he argued, following as she
strode into the kitchen to stir a pot of soup.  "How can we
know?  Can we take the chance?"

Scully slammed down the spoon, turning on him angrily.  It
had been a hell of a long day, with Stephen fussing, not
wanting to be put down for more than five minutes at a time,
and she was not in the mood to have a discussion involving
Alex Krycek.  She was trying to have a normal family moment.

"Mulder, Krycek is responsible for everything that's
happened to you, everything that's happened to me!" she
raged.  "How can you even consider letting him involve
himself with our child?"

"Just calm down, Scully," he said, holding up in hand in a
calming gesture, speaking slowly and reasonably.  "All I
want to do is talk to him, find out what he wants.  He must
have a reason for contacting me."

"I'm certain of it," she told him coldly, turning away,
pretending to give her attention to the meal so she didn't
have to let him see the fear she felt.  "But it isn't a good
reason, Mulder.  It's a reason to serve his own twisted
agenda, and I won't have my son brought into it."

"He's my son, too."

She whirled around, her eyes snapping with sudden fury. "Oh
yes, he's your son, all right!  Where the hell have you
been?"  She advanced on him, and he couldn't believe the
anger he saw burning in her eyes.  "Don't you dare give me
any shit, Mulder!  Don't you even try it."  Mindful of not
waking Stephen, even as she shook with repressed anger at
the man standing before her, she went on in a fierce
whisper, "I threw up, I ached, my feet so swollen I couldn't
even get my shoes on, some days.  I had to give up coffee, I
couldn't work for weeks at a time, and just where the hell
were you?  Where were you, Mulder, while I was doing all I
could to make sure *your* son was born healthy?  When I had
to have Skinner go to my Lamaze classes, when I had to see
the look of pity from everyone, when I couldn't look my own
mother in the eye...I sat up nights telling myself...telling
the baby, that you'd be back, you always came back, all the
while terrified, not knowing how I could raise him alone,
what I would tell him, how I could explain to him why he
would never know his father--"

She broke off, tears beginning to track down her face, and
Mulder grabbed her, hugging her to his chest, stroking his
hand up and down her back in a soothing gesture.  She
wrapped her arms around him so tightly he could never get
away again, afraid if she opened her eyes, he would be gone.

"I'm sorry, Scully," he whispered against her hair, but his
words only made her sob louder.  She had held herself in
check for all these weeks, knowing Mulder needed her to be
strong, knowing Stephen needed at least one parent who
wasn't likely to flake out at any given moment, and suddenly
the pressure had become too much.  The dam had broken, and
even as Scully mocked herself for her weakness, she could
not stop the tears from continuing to fall.

"I'm so sorry...I wish I had been here for you...you've been
through so much all by yourself..."

She fought to get herself under control, hearing the words
Mulder was saying, knowing they were ridiculous, and yet at
the same time, agreeing with every syllable.  He *should*
have been here, damn him, he *should* have been around to
hold her head while she vomited up every meal, to rub her
feet when her ankles were swollen, to reassure her that yes,
women her age had their first child all the time, and that
being older could only serve to make one a wiser parent.  He
*should* have been...but he wasn't.  He would have been,
though, if it hadn't been for Alex Krycek.

Brushing the tears away with an angry hand, she pulled back
a little.  "I'm sorry, Mulder," she said softly. "I guess I
just needed to let it out."

"You deserve it," he grinned.  "I've had more than my share
of the fragility in this family.  I guess it's your turn."

"Family," she repeated as if to herself, stirring absently
at the pot, refusing to look at him.  "Are we a family?"

She heard him sigh quietly behind her.

"We're more of a family than a lot of families," he told
her.  "We're more of a family than *my* family was, after
Sam was taken--hell, even before that.  We don't need a
piece of paper to prove it."

She nodded sadly, and he ran his fingers through his hair in
agitation.

"You don't agree with me."

She put down the spoon and turned to face him, leaning
against the counter, crossing her arms across her chest.  He
sighed inwardly.  It was her verbal combat position.

"It isn't that I disagree," she began.  "You and I love one
another, and that's more than a lot of parents can offer
their child."

"That's my point exactly."

"But Mulder, while you're fond of pointing out that *we*
don't need that piece of paper, you haven't really taken
into account that *I want* that piece of paper.  Maybe not
right now, and I don't want to pressure you into a
commitment you're not ready for, but I would like to know
that someday..."

"We will, Scully," he told her after a minute.  "I promise
you, we will.  Just...let me get my feet back under me
first, okay?"

A timer bell rang, and she turned off the oven, pulling a
pan of muffins out and setting it carefully on the stove.

"Okay," she agreed, tossing the pot holder aside and pulling
him to her for another kiss.  "And I'm sorry, Mulder."

"For...?" he prompted.

"For losing my temper all over you a few minutes ago.  I
know you would have been here for every minute, if you could
have been."

"It's all right, Scully," he told her, smoothing the hair
back from her brow, sweat-dampened from the heat of the
kitchen.  "You've put up with an awful lot these last couple
of months.  You deserve to blow off a little steam."

Stephen started to fuss, then, and Mulder went to get him
while Scully put the meal on the table.  He held his son on
his lap, giving him tiny sips of broth from his spoon while
Scully informed him that babies that young didn't need table
food.  He ignored her; Stephen loved the stuff, and he
didn't see how it could hurt the kid.

He waited until the meal had been cleared away to bring up
the subject from which they had strayed so far earlier.

"About Krycek," he reminded her, glancing at the clock as he
closed the door to the dishwasher.  It was just past seven.

"Screw Krycek," she called over her shoulder as she walked
Stephen throughout the apartment.  He was an adorable child,
but lately it seemed he never wanted to be put down, and
Scully was beginning to see why some new mothers were
anxious to complete their maternity leave and get back to
work--suddenly the X-files seemed a lot less stressful than
motherhood, aliens and flukemen notwithstanding.

"Does this mean you won't go with me?" he called as she
started down the hall, and she turned on her heel and
stalked over to where he stood, staring up at him angrily.

"You are *not* going to meet that man, Mulder," she ordered,
her eyes flashing.  "I won't have it!"

"I am, Scully," he contradicted softly.  "I have to.  If our
son is in danger, if Krycek knows something..."

"What kind of danger could he be in?  He's perfectly
healthy.  And besides, even if Krycek does have information
to give you, what will be the price of that knowledge,
Mulder?" she demanded.  "The last time you went somewhere at
Krycek's urging..."

He remained silent, watching as she patted their son's back,
refusing to respond to her fear.

"I don't want to lose you again," she whispered, her voice
thick with unshed tears.  "I'm so afraid to let you go."

"Krycek wasn't responsible for my abduction, Scully."

"He was," she argued.  "I've always believed he knew you
would be taken.  Why else would he suddenly want to work
with you?  What made him decide to be on your side, out of
the blue?  And the minute you were gone, he disappeared into
the woodwork again, only resurfacing once in a while, to
keep our hopes up.  He knew, Mulder, I'm convinced of it."

Her certainty shook him; rarely was Scully wrong when she
was this positive.  The memory of his abduction, however
fuzzy it had grown, still haunted him--being pulled through
the force field, being somehow drawn toward the circle, then
being taken up with the others and all the pain and horror
that had followed...  He had stared into the bounty hunter's
eyes and known--they had been waiting just for him.

He closed his eyes tightly against the memory, pulling her
close and burying his face in the shoulder not occupied by
Stephen.

"I can't," he murmured, his face pale, his hands beginning
to tremble, "can't do it again can't let it happen again..."
He felt himself slipping back into the madness, and brought
himself up short by sheer force of will.

"I can't let them take me again," he said, more clearly now,
his voice positive.

"No," she agreed firmly.  "Don't go, Mulder.  Whatever
Krycek wants, it can't be good for us.  Stephen is perfectly
safe, we'll guard him with our lives.  Nobody is going to
hurt him, and nobody is going to take him from us.  You said
yourself that you didn't think they'd try to kidnap him."

Krycek's message still worried him, but she was right, he
decided.  Meeting Krycek would be the height of
stupidity--even if he wasn't...taken again, Krycek could
have plans to kill him, or worse.  What had he been
thinking?  The whole idea was ludicrous.  He ignored the
niggling feeling that he had been remarkably easy to
convince, shoved it right back into the little, dark
compartment of his brain from where it had tried to emerge
and slammed the door, hard.

Mulder took Stephen from her, cuddling the baby and talking
to him all the way into the bedroom, where he lay the child
carefully in his crib while he changed into jeans and a
t-shirt; he'd been so engrossed in the Krycek problem that
he hadn't realized until now that he was still wearing his
suit.  Stephen watched him curiously, his eyes, that had
lost their baby blue and become a hazel, more flecked with
green than his own, but still Mulder eyes, tracking him as
he moved about the room.  Occasionally Stephen would make a
sound, and Mulder would respond, carrying on a one-sided
conversation with his son that Scully found highly amusing.

"Why the hell does he let *you* put him down?" Scully
demanded, leaning against the doorframe, and Mulder grinned.

"You just have to use the proper authority," he boasted. "He
knows you don't fool around with dad."

Stephen began crying again, and Mulder rolled his eyes as he
picked up the baby.  "This is your fault, you know," he
informed Scully.  "He only cried because he heard your
voice."

"Oh, well in that case, I'm going to a hotel for the night,"
she teased.  "I'm sure he'll stop crying for you if you use
the proper authority."

He shot her a look of mock horror.  "You leave me alone with
this kid and I'll--I'll--tell your mother on you!" he
threatened, and she threw up her hands in surrender.

"Fine, I'll stay," she acceded, "but you have to hold him.
My arms are worn out."

Mulder forced himself to forget about Krycek's message, and
the three of them spent the evening in front of the
television, Stephen finally falling asleep around
eight-thirty, and Scully carried him carefully to his crib.
She covered him with a light blanket, stroked her finger
lovingly across his silken cheek, and planted a kiss lightly
on the top of his head before tiptoeing out of the room.

She re-joined Mulder on the sofa, but soon found herself
drooping.  "I think I'm going to turn in, too," she yawned a
little while later, raising her head from where it had been
resting against Mulder's arm.  "Been a long day."

He followed her to bed, pulling her into his arms and
holding her until she dropped off, but it was a long time
before he slept.  He couldn't forget Krycek's cryptic
message--what had it meant?  Mulder tossed and turned until
four a.m. when he finally fell into a restless sleep,
plagued by half-remembered dreams of Krycek, Stephen, and
the smoking man.  He was relieved when the baby cried at
five, so he could give up the pretense of resting.

After Stephen had been fed, and Mulder had fixed himself and
Scully some breakfast, she went back to bed, yawning
sleepily. Mulder, not ready to face that horror again, lay
down on the couch with the remote control, hoping to lull
himself into sleep--*real* sleep--with bad television.  He
found an infomercial touting the benefits of reducing
everything you ate to juice, and gave it idle attention
until his eyes at last drifted closed.

He woke up around nine-thirty to find that Scully had
already bathed and dressed Stephen and was sitting across
from Mulder, holding the baby in her lap and pointing out
various objects in the room to him.  Stephen watched her
finger with rapt attention.

"Hey," Mulder mumbled, turning on his side so he could watch
Scully and their son together.  It was a sight he knew he
would never grow tired of enjoying.

"Good morning, daddy," she smiled.  "You were really out of
it."

He nodded and yawned.  "I didn't sleep much last night."  He
pushed himself to a sitting position and stretched, then
held out his arms for the baby.  Scully deposited Stephen
carefully on his father's lap, then went into the kitchen.

"I'm starving," she called over her shoulder.  "You want
anything?"

"No thanks," he told her, giving Stephen his finger and then
making a mock effort to retrieve it from the baby's grasp.
"I'm still full from that early breakfast.  You've spoiled
me for eating at five a.m."

Scully laughed, assembling a sandwich, munching on it while
she flipped through the Saturday paper and Mulder played
with Stephen.  When she was finished, he stood and stretched
his free arm leisurely.

"I'm going to shower," he told her, handing the baby back to
her.  He started for the bathroom, and was halfway across
the living room when he suddenly dropped to the floor.

"No, don't take it!" he cried, scrabbling backwards on his
hands and knees, his eyes fixed in terror on the wall in
front of him.

Scully stared in horror for a moment--it had been such a
long time since this had happened--then automatically flew
into action.  She placed the baby in his carrier and crossed
slowly to where Mulder was crouched, huddling against the
back of the sofa.

"Mulder, it's ok," she said gently, reaching out a hand very
slowly toward him.  Inwardly, she cursed--they'd both
thought this part of his recovery was over, but if the way
he was cowering, his hands cupped protectively to his chest,
was any indication, this one was going to be bad.

"Don't take it, you promised me I could keep it!" he cried
hysterically, dodging her hand and moving farther away.  She
dropped her hand immediately, and backed away.

"I won't take it," she told him, briefly wondering just what
"it" referred to before realizing with a start that Mulder
was trying to protect something around his neck.  Her cross.
The bastards had tried to take her cross from him.  She
wondered how he had managed to hang on to it for all those
months.

"Scully...don't take it away...please...Scully...Scully..."
he moaned, wrapping his hands around his head and curling
into a ball.

"Mulder, I won't take it."

"You said I could keep it...you've taken everything else...
don't take her away..."

His piteous cries tore at her heart.  Had the sons of
bitches left him nothing?  Had it really been necessary for
them to destroy every part of him in order to do their
damnable tests?  She reached up to unfasten the chain from
around her own neck, remembering when Mulder had given it
back to her just a couple of weeks earlier.

"I don't think I need it now," he had told her, fastening
the chain behind her neck, precisely as she had done before
he'd departed for Oregon.  "It belongs to you."

"It belongs to both of us," she had corrected him softly.
"It's always been our good luck charm."

"Well, you'd better keep it for us," he had joked.  "I'll
feel better about our good luck if it's in your possession."

She had laughed and he had kissed her, and then they had
made quick but passionate love while Stephen slept,
undisturbed, at the foot of their bed.

Now she removed it, holding out the gold chain like a
talisman between them, letting the golden cross dangle
before his eyes.

"Look, you can have it back.  Here it is."

He dared to look up, and when he saw the charm swaying
gently back and forth, his hand darted out and snatched it.

"You said I could keep it," he said in a voice that was low
and heart-wrenching.  "Don't take it."

"I won't take it again," she assured him.  "It's yours."

Mulder took the necklace and put it on, holding the cross
protectively inside his fist.  He rocked back and forth,
eyes clenched shut, completely silent for several minutes
before awareness began to creep back into him.

"Oh, shit," he whispered when he finally realized where he
was, and what had transpired.

Scully's face flooded with relief.

"You okay now?"

"Oh god Scully they've started again!"  The words rushed
together in something akin to a quiet wail--his desperation
was tangible.

She pulled him into her embrace, holding him tightly,
rocking him gently back and forth while she murmured
soothing words.

"You'll get past this," she assured him, blinking back her
tears at his despair.  "It's just because of Krycek's
message, you weren't ready for something like that.  It'll
be okay.  You know how to deal with the flashbacks now."

"I didn't deal with this one," he reminded her flatly, but
she shook her head.

"You weren't prepared for it," she argued stubbornly.  "How
could you know they would come back after all these weeks?
Now that you do, you can be ready if it happens again,
mentally prepared.  Emotionally prepared."

He didn't contradict her, but inwardly he disagreed.  How
was he supposed to prepare for something that took him by
surprise the way this episode had done?  It was just like in
the early days, when he hadn't known where he was half the
time.  The feeling of deja vu had been almost physical.

Eventually, he began to relax, and she was able to coax him
to sit beside her on the sofa.

Stephen, who had remarkably quiet during the incident, still
lay in his carrier, staring at them in quiet wonder.  Scully
marveled that he hadn't been terrified by Mulder's
screaming.

"Daddy's a psycho, son," Mulder said sadly as he dropped to
the sofa, and Scully clapped one hand angrily over his
mouth.

"You are not!" she retorted.  "Don't even say things like
that, Mulder."

"Sorry, Scully," he apologized, but he shook his head
wearily.  "When are they going to go away?" he asked in a
voice that was almost a whisper, spoken to no particular
person.  "I thought they were finished."

"Maybe you should write it in your journal," she suggested,
knowing that putting the visions on paper was a good part of
what had helped him previously overcome them, but Mulder
refused.

"I don't feel like doing that right now," he told her,
leaning his head against the sofa and drawing her into his
arms.  "They make me so tired, all I want to do is sit here
and hold you."

She'd been surprised at how physically drained he was after
the flashbacks at first, until she realized that the things
they had done to him had been physically draining, as well,
and he was, in essence, reliving those things.  This one
hadn't seemed quite as horrible, though, and it had a happy
ending.  It must have had; he'd returned with her cross.

"You can tell me about it if you want, you know," she
offered, rubbing the back of his hand lightly, and he
nodded.

"Maybe I should."

"Only if you want to."

He was silent for a long time before beginning.

"They appeared to us--well, to me anyway, I'm not sure what
happened with the others--as humans.  It wasn't greys,
gathered around me, hurting me, it was *people*, or at least
it seemed to be.  I knew they weren't really human, but
after a while it was hard to remind myself of that.  After a
while I just didn't care.

"I was always afraid they'd appear to me as someone I knew,
but they never did.  My biggest fear was finding someone I
trusted leaning over me while I screamed and pleaded with
them--

He broke off, and wiped the sweat from his brow with a
shaking hand, which she then took in her own, squeezing it
tightly.

"Anyway, that never happened, and I was always relieved when
it didn't, and frightened that the next time it would
be...you...or Skinner...or someone..."

Scully slipped her arms around his waist, hugging him close
and resting her head on his shoulder.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," she told
him softly, feeling unshed tears sting the back of her eyes
at the thought of what he must have endured.

"I do, Scully.  I need to."

Suddenly he extricated himself from her embrace, striding
quickly into the kitchen.  She heard the refrigerator door
open, then the 'past' of a soda can opening.  He returned,
taking a long swig from the diet soda, before settling back
into her arms.  He held out the can in offering, but she
shook her head, so he shrugged, took another long drink, and
resumed his tale.

"The first day, when we were first taken, they were very
polite.  There were a lot of them, and we were heavily
outnumbered, but they didn't appear to carry weapons of any
sort.  I was hoping a chance to escape would present
itself--although now I realize I wasn't thinking clearly
even then, because I knew we were on a spaceship.  Even if I
escaped, where the hell was I gonna go?"  He laughed shortly
and took another gulp of the soda.

"They gave us all a room--single people alone, and married
people together, all the rooms lining one long corridor.  It
was sort of like being at college," he grinned, and she gave
him another supportive squeeze.

"One by one, they took us away.  They didn't even try to
hide what they were doing, and by the time the third person
was taken, we were all terrified.  You could hear them
screaming down the corridor, and when they returned--"

He wiped away sweat again, breathing heavily.

"When they returned, they were...broken.  Subdued.  You
could see in their eyes that they'd suffered greatly, but
none of them would talk.  I was number nine.

"By the time they came for me, I was ready, or at least I
thought I was.  I was determined not to go quietly, so I
fought them, but Scully--they have incredible strength.
You've seen it before."

She nodded.

"It only took two of them--would have only taken one,
really, but I suppose two made it less of a bother for
them--and they dragged me down that hall into a small room.
They handed me those clothes, those white ones I was wearing
when...  They told me to change.  I thought about refusing,
but there didn't seem to be any point.  All they wanted was
for me to change clothes, and it was obvious they'd do it
for me if I didn't cooperate.

"When I took off my shirt, one of them reached out and
touched your cross.  I had almost forgotten it was there,
Scully, but when that hand stretched out and those fingers
touched it, I remembered your face when you hung it around
my neck.  It was all I had of you, and I didn't know if I'd
ever see you again--"

His voice broke, and he leaned forward, burying his face in
his hands.  Scully rubbed a hand gently over his back.

"You don't have to do this, Mulder."

He took a deep breath, then jumped to his feet and began
pacing throughout the room.  She watched him quietly--it
seemed to help him, this constant movement, and it was
something Mulder had always been prone to do when agitated.

"I slapped his hand away, and wrapped my fist around your
cross," he continued as if she hadn't spoken at all.  "They
stared at me, and I stared at them, and then one of them
shrugged and said 'Let him keep it, it doesn't make any
difference.'"

"But they tried to take it?" she guessed, and he nodded
grimly.

"That was later, though, after I knew what they were going
to do, after they'd decided to leave the others alone and
just concentrate on me."

The tears had formed in his eyes, and were beginning to
creep down his face now, in spite of his efforts to blink
them back.

"I fought them, Scully, I fought them as hard as I
could...they tried to use mind-control on me, like they did
with the others, but it didn't work for some reason, I was
able to fight them, and that made them angry."

He was babbling now, the words rushing out in a torrent of
energy, as if his body wanted to expel them as quickly as
possible.

"They told me if I didn't fight, they'd let me keep the
cross, but I couldn't--I *had* to fight, it was natural, it
was reflex!  They were angry that they couldn't make me do
what they wanted, and they couldn't make me forget what they
had done, like they did with the others.  I remembered
everything, and that made them angry, too, but they wouldn't
stop--"

"Shh, Mulder, relax," she said softly, seeing his terror
increasing.  "It's over now.  It's all right.  You don't
have to talk about it."

"One of them took your cross from me, and I got so upset, I
think it messed up their tests--they couldn't keep me still,
and they couldn't get into my mind, not even the little bit
they'd been able to do before, because all I was focused on
was your cross.  Finally, they gave it back."

He paused for a minute, breathing heavily, and then
continued, as if anxious to reach the end of his tale.

"They could get into my mind again, but never as much as
they wanted, they could never control me the way they
wanted, and they gave me drugs, Scully, drugs that paralyzed
me so I couldn't move, I could only lie there but I could
feel oh god I could feel everything..."

He sank to the floor, his face buried in his hands again,
and the sound of his broken sobs wrenched at her heart.
Moments later, Stephen's cries mixed with his--Mulder's fear
had touched him at last, and he gave high, piercing,
terrified screams, waving his little arms desperately in the
air until Scully picked him up and held him against her
shoulder for comfort.

She listened to her son screaming in her ear, watched his
father sobbing on the floor, and felt like crying herself.
How was she supposed to take care of both of them?

-----

They were all in bed--it had been a long day, and all three
were exhausted.  Scully had finally gotten Mulder and
Stephen settled down, and she'd wanted to give the baby to
Mulder and go take a nap, but had been afraid.  His
flashback that morning had been so severe that she was
reluctant to leave him in charge of Stephen.  Mulder sensed
her hesitancy, and it made him angry, she could tell, even
though he never said so.  The way his mouth tightened,
almost imperceptibly, but she knew him too well, and the way
he became quiet, focusing on the television and ignoring her
attempts at conversation, revealed his state of mind quite
adequately.

It pissed her off, in a way, and yet she understood--it was
hard for Mulder to admit weakness, and this latest bout with
his flashbacks had disturbed him more than he wanted her to
know.

Now it was ten o'clock, and she lay in bed reading, trying
to unwind from the tense day.  Stephen was finally down for
the night, and Mulder was stretched out on his back, snoring
lightly beside her.  His right hand pressed against her hip,
and after checking to be sure he wasn't making amorous
advances, but was really still sleeping, she shifted to give
him room to stretch.  A few seconds later, his legs
stretched, and she put down the book to stare.

"What the hell?" she asked the room at large.  As she
watched, Mulder was doing his best to spread-eagle himself,
still in his sleep; she wondered if he was slipping into a
nightmare.

Her question was answered moments later, when his eyes flew
open, an expression of pure agony on his face, and he let
out a scream that chilled her blood.  Stephen immediately
began to wail, but Scully ignored him.  He was safe in his
crib, and right now, Mulder needed her help worse than her
son.

"Mulder, wake up!" she shouted, hoping he could hear her
over his own cries, cries of pain that went on and on.  She
tried slapping him once, then twice, wincing when her hand
left red marks on his cheeks, and still he did not come out
of it.

Tears began to leak from his eyes, and interspersed with his
screams were heart-rending sobs, but other than his facial
muscles and vocal cords, he didn't move an inch.  It was as
if he was paralyzed, and she remembered what he had said
earlier that day about the drugs.  Whatever they had done to
Mulder when he was immobilized, it was apparently happening
again in his mind.

She tried everything she could think of--slapping him again,
shaking him roughly, screaming directly into his face, and
finally she even went so far as to lay their screaming child
on his chest, hoping the sound and feel of Stephen would
penetrate Mulder's consciousness where nothing else could.
Every attempt she made at bringing him out of his flashback
was a failure, and finally Scully just clutched Stephen to
her chest, sobbing to herself as she watched Mulder's pain
and torment go on and on.

At last, after almost fifteen minutes had passed, his
screaming stopped.  The sobbing continued for several
minutes, and then awareness began to slowly creep into his
eyes.  He stared at the ceiling for a few moments, as if
unable to grasp the fact that he could move, and then
cautiously drew his arms and legs in.  He turned his head to
look over at mother and child, both crying, one softly, one
in piercing wails, and the look on his face went straight to
her heart.

Slowly, seeming overcome with exhaustion, he pulled himself
up from the bed and moved to take them both in his arms.  He
took Stephen from her, rocking him back and forth, speaking
in a low voice, murmuring comforting, nonsense words until
the baby finally closed his eyes and slept against his
shoulder.  He placed the infant in the crib, then turned to
Scully and took her back into his embrace.

"This one was really bad, Mulder," she whispered against his
chest, and he nodded soberly.  "What's causing this?  Why is
it happening again?"

"I don't know, Scully," he answered grimly, his voice rough
from all the screaming he had done earlier.  Dimly, the
thought occurred to him that they were lucky one of the
neighbors hadn't called the police.

"It's Krycek," she said flatly, cold anger in her voice.
"It's because of his message.  It's set you back.  Mulder,
you need to see Dr. Alexander again, soon."

"I'm supposed to see him next week.  He's out of town until
Wednesday."

"You might not be able to wait until then," she argued,
holding him tightly against her, as if her arms could keep
away the demons that threatened.

"I'll be fine, Scully.  You're probably right, it's Krycek's
message.  Just realizing that should help me deal with it."

"You scared me, Mulder," she said, pulling him toward the
bed and lifting the covers so he could climb beneath them.
"It's never been that difficult to get through to you."

His face, still pale, suddenly appeared wan and old.  "It
was like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from, Scully."

His voice was hoarse, and she reached into a drawer of her
night stand and withdrew a packet of throat lozenges, which
he accepted gratefully.  He popped one into his mouth and
lay back against the pillow.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head, but then asked, "Do you remember that
case we had with the artificial intelligence program?"

She shuddered lightly.  "Esther Nairn.  I'll never forget
her.  I'll never forget *you*, trapped in that trailer,
calling for my help..."  her voice trailed off and she
clutched at him again.  That had been a horrible time for
Mulder, one that she still didn't fully understand even to
this day.

"It was like that," he affirmed quietly.  "It was like being
stuck in the virtual reality prison all over again.  I was
reliving what they did, and I couldn't move, and they
wouldn't stop, and I could feel it all."

"What did they do?"

"It's hard to describe," he answered shortly.  "It was when
they cut my bones."

*Cut his bones*? she thought, but kept quiet, for hadn't she
known, really, hadn't that been what the x-rays had
revealed?   Not breaks, not fractures, but precise cuts,
scattered throughout Mulder's skeletal system.

"How did they do that, Mulder?" she asked, wondering if she
should press him, but knowing he needed to let it out, and
damn it, she was a scientist, she was curious.

"That's what's hard to describe," he said slowly.  "It was
kind of like when you see a laser on television--you know,
it shows up as a red light?  Well this was blue, but it was
a definite stream of light.  Sort of reminded me of a tiny
light-saber."  He grinned, and she gave a short laugh, more
out of relief that he was acting normally than out of mirth.

"It didn't cut the skin, or any of the tissues or blood
vessels, as far as I could tell, but it cut straight through
the bones."  He stopped then, and she took a deep breath.

"Why the hell would they do that?" she asked angrily.  "What
could they possibly hope to learn by doing that to you?"

He shook his head.  "Who knows?  Maybe they didn't want to
learn anything.  Maybe I'd just really pissed them off by
then."

He gave the short bark of laughter this time, shaking his
head a little as if to banish the memory.  She pulled his
head close to her chest, stroking through his hair over and
over until he finally fell back into what, at long last,
appeared to be a restful sleep.

-----

When it happened again at 10 a.m. on Sunday morning, Scully
became suspicious, and after he came out of that flashback,
she broached the subject.

"Mulder, doesn't it strike you as odd that you had these
flashbacks at exactly ten yesterday morning, ten last night,
and ten this morning?"

He stared at her with exhausted eyes.  "I guess I was too
busy to notice the time," he muttered wearily.  "What are
you saying?"

She blew at a strand of hair that insisted on falling in her
face, exasperated with his obtuseness, with the fact that
she hadn't had enough sleep in weeks, with life in general.
"I'm saying," she explained with exaggerated patience, "the
maybe someone is behind this."

His eyes widened, and his hand crept slowly to the scar at
the back of his neck.  His face paled.  "You think..."

She shrugged.  "It occurred to me."

"But why?  What would it accomplish?"  His hand stayed
there, lightly worrying the tiny bump on his skin, and he
bit his lip thoughtfully.

"Maybe..."  She stared at her lap for a minute, angry with
herself for not realizing the danger, for not listening to
him, then took a deep breath and looked up.  "Maybe it's
because you didn't meet with Krycek."

His eyes widened even more.  "You think *he's* the one doing
this?" he asked.

"Well don't you?  Doesn't it seem the obvious answer?"

He shook his head slowly.  "I never even thought...I just
assumed it was *them*."  Mulder was pulled from his musing
by the ringing of the phone, and he grabbed for it before it
could disturb the baby.  "Yeah?" he muttered into it.

"Mulder, it's Skinner.  How are things in babyville?"

Mulder's somewhat distracted, "Fine," immediately set up an
alert in his boss.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concern now evident in his voice.
Why, he asked himself, had he been so intent upon giving
Mulder space to work through the therapy?  He hadn't even
visited him down in his office, as if artificial distance
made any difference.  He should have been more available.

"Listen, Walter, I'm kind of in the middle of
something...let me get back to you."

Skinner stared at the phone as the line went dead.  "Damn,"
he swore aloud to the empty room.  He started to press the
'redial' button, then just dropped the phone on the couch,
snagging his jacket with one hand and his keys with the
other.  He was out the door before he allowed himself to
give it a second thought.

"That was Skinner," Mulder provided at Scully's questioning
look, both their minds obviously still occupied with the
previous conversation.

"Mulder, has it ever occurred to you that maybe Krycek *is*
one of them?"

He gave a weak grin.  "You think Krycek is an alien,
Scully?"

She rolled her eyes, muttering, "I can't believe I'm having
this conversation.  No, of course not, Mulder.  But one
thing I'm certain of--Krycek's motives are always a mystery,
but his methods remain constant.  He's a liar and a
murderer, and he only has his own best interest at heart."

He said nothing, still stroking at the chip, and she took
his silence for disagreement.

"Well, there's no question he's working for them, in some
capacity," she insisted.  "And we never did discover exactly
what they wanted with you, exactly what all the tests were
about."

Suddenly he froze, went absolutely rigid, and she gripped
his arms, fearing another flashback, a natural one this
time.

"Mulder!"

His face grew even paler, if that were possible; it was
positively ashen, and his voice, when he spoke, was rough
with emotion.

"Children.  They wanted to make children from me.  They
*did* make them, Scully, I--I destroyed some of them."

"Children from you and--?"

"Alien ova.  They've perfected the hybrid with human ova,
now they're trying to make it work the other way.  I was
their first real success.  That's why they concentrated on
me and left the others alone."  He spoke in a monotone, as
if listening to his own words would give them meaning, and
he couldn't bear that.

"So they tried to make children from you...children like
Emily...?"  her voice was hollow as the implications sank
in.

"Didn't you hear me, Scully?  They *did* make them, lots of
them!  I managed to break into the room where the fetuses
were stored, and I destroyed some of them, but they caught
me, and they--"

He gasped as the full force of the memory hit him again, and
Scully watched in horror as he retreated to the corner of
the room, curling into a ball, hands protectively covering
his head as if to hide from those who meant to harm him.  He
hadn't done this in weeks, until yesterday, she thought
angrily, and the realization that not only was Mulder far
from healed, but that Krycek's intervention was bringing
memories to the fore that he was not yet ready to deal with
only increased her resolve to kill Krycek if she got the
chance.

Quietly, Scully knelt near Mulder, talking softly to him
until at last, softly sobbing, he came back to himself, and
slumped against the wall.

"Shit, Scully," he whispered.  "What am I going to do?"

A knock at the door brought both of them quickly to their
feet.  Mulder immediately went to the bedroom to grab
Stephen, while Scully cautiously approached the door from
the side.  Both of them had the same thought--Krycek.

Only when Mulder reappeared with the baby did she call out
authoritatively, "Who's there!"

She sagged against the door in relief when she heard
Skinner's answering, "Scully, it's me."  She reached for the
lock and had only just unfastened it when Mulder's gasp from
behind made her spin around toward him.  He was swaying on
his feet, the baby still held gently in his arms.

"Take Stephen, Scully," he forced out, his panicked eyes
spurring her into quick action.  

She grabbed the baby from him immediately, vaguely aware of
Skinner coming through the door.  

Mulder's eyes remained locked on her face.  He heard her
call his name from what seemed like a huge distance, even
though he could reach out his hand and touch her.  It was
with an odd fascination that he noted his vision closing in
until there was only darkness, and Scully's eyes, which
seemed oddly bright...then they, too, faded, and he felt
himself slipping to the floor.

Scully shoved the now crying baby into Skinner's arms and
was on the floor beside Mulder in an instant.  She quickly
turned him over and searched his face.  With horror, she
realized this wasn't a flashback--it was different.  His
eyes weren't glazed over and focused on some past terror,
they were closed.  He looked like he was asleep.

"Scully, what the hell happened?" Skinner demanded, gently
bouncing Stephen in an attempt to soothe the infant.

"I think he passed out.  He's okay."  She glanced up at the
man towering over them, her hand brushing across Mulder's
forehead even as she shifted him more fully into her lap,
and held out her arms for the baby.

"I've got him, you just worry about Mulder," was all Skinner
said before he turned and began walking, whispering to the
crying baby.  Scully didn't have time to do more than smile
at the picture they made before Mulder stirred, his eyes
flickering twice before finding hers.

"Hey, you," she whispered.

"Scully...what happened?" he asked, attempting to sit up and
failing because of the restraining hand she placed upon his
chest.

"Hold on," she ordered gently.  "Just relax a minute.  How
do you feel?  Did you hit your head, Mulder?  Anything
hurt?"

He considered his condition for a minute, and decided that
nothing did.  "I'm okay, Scully, help me up."

She assisted him onto the couch with some reluctance.

"Where's Stephen?" he asked suddenly, remembering he had
been holding the baby before he blacked out.

Skinner stepped into his field of vision.  "I have him,
Mulder.  Nice swan dive, by the way.  I've never had anyone
swoon at the sight of me.  Thought I have to admit, I would
have preferred it wasn't you," he finished with a smile.

"In your dreams, Skinman," Mulder grinned.

They both turned at a most unladylike snort from Scully.  "I
hate to break up this little love-fest, but Mulder--what the
heck was that?  It wasn't your usual flashback, I could
tell."

Mulder shook his head slowly.  "I don't know, Scully.
Everything just went dark."

She felt his forehead with a soft hand, but he wasn't warm.
"Maybe it's because you haven't been eating much," she
guessed.

"I'm fine now, and I don't want anything to eat.  I'm not
hungry, so don't even try."

She watched him sink back against the sofa cushions, and had
no doubt that he would resist any attempt she made to coax
food into him.  She decided to reserve that battle for
later.  Glancing toward her son, still held with ease by the
big ex-Marine, she smiled.

"What I wouldn't give for a picture of that!"

Skinner glanced down at his drowsy charge and then back at
Scully.  "Don't even think about it," he warned with mock
gruffness.

She grinned, and turned her attention back to Mulder.  "I
think Stephen has the right idea," she commented.  "You
should follow his lead."

Mulder peeked over at his son before saying, with a hint of
indignation, "I am *not* cuddling with my boss!"

She waited for the laughter to subside before clarifying.
"Mulder, I'm serious.  You need to get back into bed," she
told him, holding out her hand to help him to his feet.
"You're exhausted again.  And Mulder, if we're right, then
you have to meet with Krycek or it will never end.  I'm
sorry, Mulder, I'm so sorry.  I should have let you go."

"Krycek?" demanded Skinner, but they continued as if he
wasn't there.

Mulder shook his head.  "You couldn't know, Scully.  I
didn't know.  I thought meeting with him was a stupid idea,
too. I was hoping you'd talk me out of it."

"When it happens, I'm going with you.  I won't let you face
him alone."

"Going where?  Surely you're not thinking of going to meet
Krycek?" Skinner asked, stepping closer so they would be
unable to further shut him out of the conversation.  "Where
did you get a fool idea like that?"

Scully spared Skinner an 'I'll explain later' look, and
turned back to Mulder.  Neither of them noticed when Skinner
left the room.

"Come on, Mulder.  Right now.  Bed.  Doctor's orders."

"Will the doctor be joining me?" he joked as she led him
toward the bedroom.

She only gave him a fierce glare in answer.

He allowed her to position him on the bed and remove his
shoes.  "What about Stephen?"

"I'm going to call my mother, and see if she can help us out
again."

She started to straighten up, and he grabbed at her arm.

"Scully, Stephen's in danger."

Her brow furrowed.  "You don't know that, Mulder--"

"They want him because he's my son.  He might have...the
same thing I have."

With a gentle hand, she smoothed the hair from his forehead,
placing a tender kiss there.

"I'll take care of Stephen," she assured him.  "You just
rest now.  You have to be ready in case..."

She didn't finish the sentence, but he knew what she meant.
He needed his rest, for when the next flashback occurred. It
wasn't a case of "if" any longer.

She returned to the living room, where Skinner had placed
the sleeping baby in his carrier.  His back was to her when
she entered, but he seemed to sense her arrival.

"What has Alex Krycek got to do with anything?" he demanded,
swinging around to face her.  His face told her he would
tolerate no more bullshit.

Scully took a moment to gather her thoughts, and sank down
slowly to a chair.  She drew in a deep breath and began.

"We think...no, *I* think he is now controlling Mulder's
flashbacks, causing them.  They're too...reliable.  You
could set your clock by them.  Somehow, Krycek can make them
happen.  Mulder was supposed to meet with him, but he didn't
go--I wouldn't let him..."  Her voice drifted off for a few
seconds, then she looked him full in the face.  "I think
it's the chip."  Her hand reached back to touch the spot
where her own chip was implanted.  "Either that, or it's the
way he controls you," she finished.

Skinner paled at her words.  "Mulder told you?"

She nodded.

"You think he's controlling Mulder now...is Mulder getting
sick?  Sick like I was?"

"No, but how do we know that's all he can do?  We still have
no idea what they did to him while he was gone...no idea of
their capabilities...it's just beyond us, I think.  And
Walter, we'll never know it all, no matter how many tests we
run."

"We have to find Krycek.  I have to find him."

"No," she argued firmly.  "Let us deal with it, Sir.  You
have too much at stake."

"That's exactly why I have to do it, Scully--why I *need* to
do it.  You have a lot at stake, too."  He nodded toward the
bedroom.  "I owe him.  I owe both of you.  I'll let you know
what I find."

Before she could protest further, he was out the door.

-----

Scully's mind was still on Skinner, even when she picked up
the phone to call her mother.  He was a good man, a strong
man, and after all they had been through, the three of them,
she was amazed to find that he was also a good friend.  She
was grateful.  She had needed him while Mulder was gone, and
now...they both needed a friend like Skinner.

Maggie came, naturally, and Mulder's flashback occurred at
ten p.m., naturally, right on schedule.  Scully was
convinced now that Krycek was causing them, but it wasn't
just his influence Mulder was dealing with.  Krycek's
artificially induced flashbacks seemed to have triggered an
increase in the naturally occurring ones, meaning that
Mulder was now having four or five a day.  It was draining
him, and they were getting steadily worse.



On Monday morning, when he awakened with Stephen, Mulder was
tense and irritable.  The stress of knowing it was coming in
a few hours caused him to pace the apartment, glancing
repeatedly at the clock until Scully wanted to scream.

"I have an idea," he finally told her, just after
eight-thirty. "Those sleeping pills Dr. Alexander gave me."
He'd finally worn himself out with activity, and had thrown
himself to the sofa, his remaining energy focused on
bouncing one knee up and down, while still watching the
clock.

She regarded him calmly, rocking the baby against her chest.
"You want to knock yourself out?  Do you think it will
work?"

He shrugged.  "I don't know.  If it doesn't...can it really
hurt?"

She shook her head, more at a loss as to what to do than in
agreement with him, and he went to the bathroom, fishing the
prescription bottle out of the drawer where he'd tossed it
when he brought it home.

He wanted to take two, but knowing his susceptibility to
drugs, she insisted he only swallow one of the pills.  She
settled him in bed, propping him against the pillows, and
gave the baby to Maggie.  They were preparing as best they
could for what they all knew was coming, and sure enough, it
hit right on schedule.

Mulder had fallen asleep within half an hour of swallowing
the pill, and at first Scully was grateful.  It wasn't until
she realized that the flashback was occurring in spite of
his drugged state that she understood what a truly horrible
idea this had been.

Mulder couldn't wake up.  He was trapped in the flashback.

He mumbled unintelligible words, his thrashing growing more
and more pronounced as the vision took hold, and Scully
slapped lightly at his face.

"Mulder!  Mulder, wake up!"

Her efforts had no effect whatsoever, and Scully watched in
horror as Mulder began to moan piteously, then to whimper,
and finally broke out in loud screams that frightened her
with their intensity.  She couldn't understand the words he
said, but he seemed to be pleading for the pain to stop.

All her attempts at waking him proved useless, and finally
Scully knelt beside him on the bed, screaming out her
frustration at Alex Krycek and all the rest who had ever
hurt Mulder.

"Stop it, you son of a bitch!" she yelled at the ceiling,
putting her hands over her ears in an attempt to block out
Mulder's wails.  "Leave him alone!  Leave him alone!"

Her demands were useless, of course, and as Mulder continued
to struggle against invisible bonds, weeping at invisible
pain, pleading with invisible entities to stop torturing
him, Scully could do nothing more than huddle beside him on
the bed, crying softly, and pray for it to end.

At last it did, and Mulder fell into sound sleep again, not
awakening until late that afternoon.  He stumbled out to the
kitchen, dressed only in his boxers and a t-shirt,
seemingly oblivious to Maggie's presence.

"Are you okay?" Scully asked cautiously as he sank into a
chair.

He gave her a little nod.  "Guess that wasn't such a good
idea," he managed with a weak grin, dashing Scully's hopes
that perhaps he wouldn't remember this one.

"Guess not."

"How long until my next scheduled session?" he asked,
rubbing at his forehead, and she looked at the clock.

"Five hours, thirty-seven minutes," she reported quietly.

He closed his eyes for a minute, as if searching for inward
peace, and then announced,  "I'm going to take a shower."




While he stood beneath the steaming spray of water, Mulder
considered his options.  The flashback was going to happen,
he knew--that was almost a given.  He could wait for it, get
through it as best he could, but the last one had been the
worst yet, and he suspected Krycek was cranking up the
volume, so to speak.  He certainly wasn't going to drug
himself up again--that had been a hellishly bad idea--but
his greatest fear was that he would hurt someone he cared
for.  Two small women and an infant, against a man made mad
by his memories and strengthened by adrenaline...sooner or
later, something awful was bound to happen.  That, too, was
almost a given.

By the time he had dressed, Mulder had come up with an idea,
and he went to work right away.  First, he began clearing
everything out of Scully's large bedroom closet, laying her
suits carefully on the bed, stacking boxes neatly along the
wall, and piling everything else in the corner.

Scully, hearing the noise, came to investigate, and stood
with hands on her hips for a minute, watching Mulder's
hurried movements.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, surveying the disaster
that had previously been her well-kept bedroom.

"Get me that new deadbolt I've been meaning to put on the
front door, would you, Scully?"

She didn't budge.  "Mulder, what are you doing?" she asked
again, her voice turning icy as her suspicions grew.

He swung around to face her.  "It's the only safe thing to
do, Scully.  Sooner or later, I'm going to hurt one of you,
and I can't--"  He paused and took a deep breath.  "I can't
be responsible for that.  I couldn't live with it."

She shook her head stubbornly, crossing her arms over her
chest.  "If you think for one minute that I'm going to lock
you in that closet, Mulder--"

He took two quick steps over to where she stood, grasping
her by the upper arms giving her an urgent little shake.
"It's the only way," he argued. "We have to protect,
Stephen, and I'm afraid--"  He shuddered.

"Mulder, you would never hurt him.  You would never hurt
your son. I know it."

He swiped a hand across a suddenly sweaty brow.  "I would,
Scully," he contradicted solemnly.  "I wouldn't be able to
stop myself.  I might think he was one of them, one of
those..."

She spun away, unable to endure the pain in his voice, but
he grabbed her and turned her back to face him.

"Scully, I have less than three hours.  Just get me the
deadbolt set and your toolbox.  Please."  The desperation in
his voice was what finally spurred her on.

She couldn't look at him as she did what he asked, and when
Mulder began installing the deadbolt on her closet door, she
left the room.  The idea of locking him up was hideous to
her, but she knew, in her heart, that he was probably right.
It was a small price to pay to protect their son.

At nine-fifty, Mulder kissed her and Stephen, and entered
the closet, shutting the door firmly behind him.

At ten on the dot, she heard him begin weeping, softly but
constantly, and then the murmured words began.  With horror,
she realized it was her name Mulder was saying over and
over.  Her hand involuntarily reached for the doorknob and
she stopped.

"Don't open this door until you're absolutely sure it's
finished," he had ordered just before entering the closet,
and the look in his eyes had been one Scully feared to
cross.  If she'd listened to Mulder in the first place,
allowed him to meet with Krycek, he wouldn't be in this
position, she reminded herself.  She resolved to listen to
him now, no matter how difficult it might prove.

The sobbing went on for a long time, and then Mulder began
banging on the door, pleading for her to help him, only she
realized he wasn't pleading with her to let him out of the
closet, he was begging her to find him, save him from his
captors, and bring him home.

She sat on the bed, her eyes fixed on the door, tears
streaming steadily down her face, until at last the noises
began to subside.

Maggie, holding her grandson on Dana's sofa, cried as well.

Stephen slept through it all.

When Mulder finally knocked lightly on the door and called,
"Scully, it's over.  Let me out of here," she raced to obey.

"Mulder," she breathed, opening the door and pulling him
into her arms.  She settled him on the bed, but he refused
to release her.  He was trembling all over.

"They kept me in a cell," he said, staring at the ceiling
with unseeing eyes.  "A little cell, just like that.  That's
where they took me after the testing.  After the first day,
I never saw my room again, they kept me locked in a cell..."

She stared, open-mouthed in astonishment, and he shifted his
gaze to her eyes.

"Krycek knows what we're doing," he said flatly.  "He's
tailoring the flashbacks to fit the situation."

Scully's eyes darted around the bedroom, and Mulder nodded.
Somewhere in this room, and probably all the others as well,
they were being watched.

She leaned close to him, snuggling next to his ear.  "I'm
going to get Mom and Stephen out of here," she said in a
barely audible whisper.  He didn't move, but when she raised
up again, his eyes agreed.

"Will you be all right?" she queried softly, and he nodded.

"I should be fine until ten in the morning."

She leaned over to give him a quick kiss on the lips.  "I
won't be long."

-----

"Mom, would you bring Stephen and come with me to the
store?" Scully asked as she returned to the living room and
slipped on her shoes.  "I need to pick up a few things and
I'd like some company."

"Are you sure you want to take him out, Dana?" Maggie asked
anxiously.  "He's sleeping so well."

Scully nodded.  "I'm afraid to leave him here with Mulder,"
she said clearly.  "In case something happens.  Please, Mom,
I just need to get out of here for a while."

Maggie saw the warning look on her daughter's face and
didn't argue further, picking up her purse and Stephen's
baby quilt and following Dana to the car.

"Let's take yours," Dana suggested, and Maggie nodded,
allowing her daughter to take the lead as she slipped behind
the steering wheel, leaving Maggie to deal with Stephen.

She strapped Stephen carefully into his car seat, tucking
the quilt around his tiny sleeping form, then climbed in
beside him, watching silently as Dana steered the car, not
toward the market, but in a direction unknown to her.  She
didn't say a word when Dana stopped the car twenty minutes
later in front of a ramshackle building, she just picked up
the baby and followed, waiting while the numerous locks on
the door were unfastened and they were ushered into the
oddest room she had ever seen.

Computers and technical equipment were everywhere, as were
stacks of bizarre-looking newspapers and magazines, and in
one corner stood an old-fashioned printing press, unused
now, by the look of it, abandoned in favor of the more
efficient computer printers, but still not forgotten.  Dirty
clothes were flung here and there, and empty coffee cups
littered the table.

"Oh, sorry," Byers apologized as he stood back for Scully
and her mother to enter.  "We didn't expect company. Where's
Mulder?"

She quickly explained what had been happening, how Krycek
had been torturing Mulder, and Mulder's theory that their
son was in danger.  Then she turned to her mother.

"Mom, I know you have a life of your own.  I wouldn't ask
this if it wasn't the most important thing in the world,
but--"

Maggie held up her hand.  "You want me to go away?  With
Stephen.  Hide him, isn't that it?"

Scully nodded, her eyes brimming with tears, and Maggie
pulled her daughter into a fierce hug.

"Don't you know that I'd do anything for you?" she asked.
"Anything for my grandson?  Of course I'll do it, Dana."

Scully gave a little nervous laugh, wiping away her tears.
"These guys can take care of everything, can't you?" she
asked, turning pleading eyes to them.

"Consider it done," Frohike answered immediately.

"We'll have to stop for supplies for the baby," said Maggie
firmly.  "Bottles and formula, for one thing."

Scully's eyes widened and she gave a little gasp--that
hadn't even occurred to her. "Mom, he's never had anything
but the breast--will he make the switch?"

"He's had water from a baby bottle, hasn't he?"

Her daughter nodded.

"Then he'll make the switch to formula, because I'll tell
him to, and I'm not in the mood to argue."

Scully grinned at the words--they were almost exactly the
same thing she'd told the guys when they were planning to
drug Mulder to bring him home, and suddenly she remembered
where she had heard them before.  It was something her
mother had said when they were children, whenever they were
asked to do what seemed impossible--like clean their rooms
before suppertime--and always managed to do it, because Mom
told them to, and Mom wasn't in the mood to argue.

"I'd better get back to Mulder," Scully said then, a note of
reluctance in her voice.  "Guys, we're talking about my son
and my mother," she reminded them as she kissed her mother
and prepared to leave, stroking the soft brown hair on
Stephen's head. "No chances."

"No chances, Scully," Langly agreed.  "We'll take care of
'em."

Scully went into her mother's arms for one more lingering
hug. "I'm so sorry to have to bring you into this," she
whispered tearfully.

Maggie shook her head with a smile.  Her eyes twinkled with
excitement.  "This is a chance to make myself useful, and
it's a bit of adventure in an old woman's life."

"Mom, you're not old!"

"Well, not too old to have fun, anyway," Maggie agreed. "Now
go on home to Fox.  It's almost time."

Scully looked around at them all, gave another sad smile,
and turned to leave.

"Where are you taking us, anyway?" Maggie asked curiously as
the door closed, and Scully barely heard Frohike's
reply--"We'd tell you, but then we'd have to kill you."

Her mother's laugh drifted back and Scully smiled.  Then she
bit her lip to keep back the tears that threatened.  Why,
she asked herself angrily, did the people she loved always
find themselves in danger?  It had been that way ever since
she'd hooked up with Mulder, and yet the thought of not
having him in her life brought a pain so fierce it cut
straight through her heart.



When she got home, she undressed and slipped into bed beside
Mulder, who pulled her into his arms without saying a word.
He gently rubbed her back until some of the tension eased,
and eventually the two of them slept.

The phone woke them at nine the next morning.

"Are you ready to meet with me now?"

"Krycek!  You--"

"Save it, Scully, I know what you think of me.  Just
remember that I can make this happen as often as I want, and
I can make it last as long as I want.  You meet with me, and
we'll talk about how I can make it all go away."

She was quiet for a long moment, reviewing her options,
realizing that if she wanted to save Mulder, she really had
none.

"When?" she asked at last, and he gave a satisfied chuckle.

"Tonight.  Eight o'clock.  Behind Casey's.  Both of you. Oh,
and Scully?  Bring your kid, too."

He disconnected, and Scully let the phone slip numbly from
her fingers to fall to the table.  She stared straight
ahead, wondering how they were going to get through this.

Mulder was right.  They did want Stephen.


As ten a.m. approached, Mulder again retreated to the
closet, and Scully sat down in front of the door, prepared
to ride out the vigil as close to him as she could get.  She
even managed to chuckle at his werewolf jokes, but after
almost half an hour it became clear that Krycek intended to
give him a reprieve--the scheduled flashback never occurred.

Scully fixed lunch, which neither of them could eat, and
toward mid-afternoon they found themselves staring blankly
into space, not talking, just waiting.  They were too
nervous to do anything else, and concentration was
impossible at that point, anyway.

At seven, they dressed in dark, comfortable clothing, and
armed themselves, still unspeaking.  It was not until they
were ready to leave the apartment that Scully finally spoke.

"Mulder, I'm sorry."

"Scully--"

"No, Mulder, it's my fault you've had to go through these
past few days.  If I hadn't convinced you not to go..."

"It's not your fault, Scully.  Krycek would do anything to
get what he wants, you know that.  If it hadn't been this,
it would have been something else."  He zipped up the front
of his jacket and gave her a weak smile.  "Let's get this
over with."

"Skinner's going to be pissed when he finds out we're doing
this.  He won't even want to hear the reasons why we didn't
call him.  He wants to be involved."

He grinned more broadly.  "How does that song go...you can't
always get what you want," he sang, and she laughed.
"Relax, Scully.  He'll get over it."

They strolled casually into the bar, glancing around, seeing
nothing and no one amiss.  On a Tuesday night, there weren't
many people here, only the regulars who hit Casey's most
evenings, and after glancing at the nice-looking young
couple who'd just entered, the bartender went back to his
conversation with an old man at the end of the bar.  The
rest of the patrons had their eyes glued to the large
television over the bar, where the Knicks were beating the
Lakers 78 to 64.

Mulder gave Scully a slight nod before slipping into the
shadows toward the back of the bar.  Scully pretended
interest in the game for a few minutes before joining him.

They exchanged a look before Mulder pushed open the door
leading to the back alley, and both of them hurried through
it silently.

Krycek was waiting.

"Where's the kid?" he asked, eyeing the two of them.

"If you think you're getting anywhere near my son, Krycek,
you're crazier than I thought."  Mulder's voice was hard.

Krycek grinned, leaning against the brick wall.  "I didn't
really think you'd bring him anyway.  Doesn't matter.  Let's
tal--oof!"  Suddenly Krycek slumped against the cold brick
wall, grasping his middle and eyeing the angry redhead who
stood before him, shaking out her hand as her partner looked
on with a broad grin.  He could plainly see her calculating
whether it would be worth her while to see what kind of
effect she could have on his ability to father children, so
he forced himself to stand upright.

"I'll give you one, Red, but just the one," he ground out.

"You bastard--" Mulder began, but Scully interrupted.

"Let's cut the crap," she suggested coldly.  "What do you
want, Krycek?"

"Haven't you guessed?"

"Mulder.  They want Mulder back."

Krycek gave a snort of amusement.  "Not quite, Scully.  But
we are prepared to offer you a sweet deal, in exchange for
what we do want."

He turned to Mulder, who glared at him but waited silently.

"I can make it all end, Mulder," he said softly, his voice
gentle and beguiling.  "All of it.  I can fix it so you
never have a flashback again.  In fact, if you want, I can
even do a selective memory wipe so you don't even remember
your time on the ship.  Wouldn't you like that?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Krycek?" Mulder
demanded.  "What is it you want, in exchange for messing
with my mind?"

Krycek sneered.  "Are you kidding, Mulder?  What do you
think we want?  We want your son."

Scully started toward him, but Mulder put out an arm to stop
her.

"For what?"

Krycek gave a short bark of mirthless laughter.  "You don't
really need to ask, do you, Mulder?  I mean...he's like you!
He's like something they've never seen before, something
they want.  Something they need.  At least, they hope he
is."

Mulder's eyes widened at Krycek's words, then narrowed in
anger.

"Get lost, Krycek, before I let Scully put a bullet through
your head."

"I don't see that you have any choice," Krycek called as
they began to back away.  "Sooner or later, you'll have to
give us what we want."

Mulder and Scully reached the end of the alley, turning
toward the front of the bar where they'd left their car, and
Krycek yelled after them.

"It can get worse, Mulder.  You have no idea how much worse
it can get!"

They ignored him, but Scully felt her stomach turn to ice at
his words.  She knew they were true.  Krycek would never
leave Mulder in peace, not until they gave him what he
wanted.  Or until she killed him, she thought darkly, her
hand resting momentarily on her weapon.


Mulder refused to drive them home.

"It's going to start again, Scully.  You know it is.  We
don't have any way of knowing when.  I won't endanger
you..."

She took the wheel without further protest, swallowing the
lump in her throat.  Knowing he was right.

A feeling of impending doom shadowed them, unshakeable--both
knew it was only a matter of time before the torture began
again, both wondering how long Mulder could hold out before
they were forced to take some sort of drastic action.

"I don't understand," Scully complained later, watching as
Mulder pace the apartment, occasionally fingering the scar
on the back of his neck.  "Why would they demand something
so absurd?  They must have known we'd refuse."

"They knew," Mulder said grimly, stopping to stare out the
window into the darkness, hands on his hips as he gnawed
thoughtfully on his lower lip.

"But...why, then?" Scully asked, confused.

He turned toward her suddenly--it had clicked in his mind
all at once.

"Krycek doesn't want Stephen," he said flatly.  "At least,
he doesn't expect us to simply hand him over."

She stared at him for a minute.  "Mulder?" she asked, giving
him that sideways look she sometimes used when she couldn't
think of a delicate way to ask if he had finally gone off
his rocker.

"No, Scully, listen to me," he insisted, beginning his trail
through the living room again.  "Krycek wants something. We
know that for sure, but I don't think he expected us to hand
Stephen over to him--he knew we wouldn't do that.  No, he
wants something else. Something more subtle.  He asked us
for the impossible, knowing we would refuse."

"But why?"

"So his next request, his real one, would sound more
reasonable by comparison."

Her eyes narrowed as she considered his words.  "Sonofabitch
is smarter than I gave him credit for," she said grimly.

Mulder gave a snort of disgust.  "It's not intelligence,
Scully, it's self-preservation. Even a cockroach possesses
that.  Somehow, Krycek is trying to save his own ass."

"But if not Stephen, what does he want, Mulder?  What does
he really want?"

He shook his head slowly.  "I don't know, Scully, but we
have to figure it out, and soon."  He glanced at the clock
on the wall, his jaw clenching slightly.  "I suspect I don't
have much time."