From: Drew Karpyshyn Date: Sat, 23 Oct 1999 10:26:48 -0600 Subject: The Way (1/1) by Margreta Source: direct Title - The Way (1/1) Author - Margreta E-mail address - drewjen@v-wave.com Rating - PG Category - S/A Spoilers - Chinga, Wetwired, Memento Mori Keywords - Mulder/Scully friendship Summary - What would it take to make Mulder and Scully leave the X-Files behind forever? Disclaimer - None of the characters in this story belong to me (except in my dreams), they all belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. Timeline - End of Season 6, but Biogenesis did not happen. The Way Agent Fox Mulder, sitting at his desk, watched admiringly as another pencil sailed upward in a perfect arc, completing three loops before landing point first in the ceiling tile above his head. "Yes," he cheered triumphantly. "He completes the triple. And now - for the first time ever - I will attempt..." he paused for dramatic effect, even though there was no one else in the room to appreciate it. "The quad." He deftly tossed another pencil into the air, but it only made it around three and a half times before banging into the ceiling and landing back in Mulder's lap. He sighed audibly and turned again to look at the phone on his desk. "I will not call her. I will not call her. I will not call her." His mind kept repeating those five words, even as his hand reached for the receiver. But, as he had already done countless times before, he snatched his hand back, remembering his partner's words to him in their office the previous Friday afternoon. "Mulder?" Scully's soft voice startled him out of his concentration. He had been trying to come up with a creative reason for justifying the purchase of another cel phone after his had inexplicably been covered in some type of gooey substance that couldn't be identified. "Yeah," he responded. "I think I'm going to take next week off." Mulder's head shot up to look at his partner. His eyes narrowed. "You're what?" "I'm going to take next week off. Go away somewhere. A vacation, you know? You do remember what vacations are, Mulder, don't you?" "Yes, I remember what a vacation is, Scully. But look what happened the last time you took a vacation. That creepy doll thing." "Well, I'm not going to Maine, so I should be safe," she replied. She stood up and walked over to his desk. "And Mulder, I am going to give you the number of my hotel, but you are to use it only in an extreme emergency. Do you understand?" "You mean, like if my fish die?" he asked hopefully. "No, Mulder, not if your fish die. You should know the proper procedure for getting rid of fish carcasses by now. I mean a real emergency. And I'm turning off my cel phone too. Think you can handle it?" Mulder pursed his lips. A whole week without Scully? His fingers tapped on the desktop. Yeah, it would be difficult, but he could handle it. He smiled up at her. "Have a nice vacation, Scully. And don't keep bugging me with constant phone calls either," he added. She smiled tightly at him, then turned, grabbed her coat and briefcase, and exited the basement. Now it was Wednesday, and Mulder was finding it harder and harder to concentrate on work. He kept thinking about his partner, missing small things about her, like the smell of her perfume, her small sighs from across the room as she worked at her desk, the sound of her fingers tapping on the keyboard of her computer as she typed another report on a case. His favorite pastime when he was bored at the office was to pretend to be engrossed in an article in one of the numerous UFO magazines he subscribed to, but instead sneak glances at his partner over the top of his papers whenever he got the chance. He was fascinated by the way she licked her lips, and how she chewed on her lower lip and squinted her eyes whenever she was trying to think up a believable explanation for their latest case. He missed her presence, it was sometimes the only reason he could think of to get off his couch in the morning and drag his sorry ass into work. Again, unwittingly, his hand reached out for the phone. He hesitated, then dialed the number she had written down for him. "Comfort Inn, how may I help you?" came a pleasant female voice across the line. Mulder cleared his throat. "Could you connect me with Dana Scully's room, please?" he said. "Certainly, sir, just one moment." The line went quiet as he was put on hold. He had no idea what he was going to say to her, but even if she yelled at him, he would still have accomplished his goal of hearing her voice. "I'm sorry, sir, but we have no one by that name registered here." The woman's voice interrupted his thoughts. Mulder was silent for a moment. "Oh, OK. Thank you," he said. He hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. After a moment, he again reached for the phone. "Hello," came a different woman's voice, but it was one that he recognized. "Hello, Mrs. Scully. This is Fox Mulder." "Hi, Fox. How are you?" Mrs. Scully sounded out of breath, as if she had had to run to answer her phone. "Did I catch you at a bad time?" Mulder asked. "No, I was outside in the garden, that's all. Is something wrong, Fox?" Mrs. Scully had every reason to ask that question, Mulder reflected grimly, since almost every other time he had called her it was to report that something bad had happened to her daughter. "No, Mrs. Scully, everything is fine. I just tried to reach Scully at her hotel, but they told me she wasn't registered there. She must have switched hotels and forgotten to tell me," Mulder replied. There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. "I don't understand, Fox. Dana called me on Friday night to say you both were going out of town on another case, and wouldn't be home until at least tomorrow." Now it was Mulder's turn to hesitate. Alarms started going off in his head immediately. "Fox? What's going on? Why don't you know where Dana is?" Mrs. Scully's voice sounded far away. Mulder licked his lips before replying. "Scully told me she was taking a week off to go on vacation." Before Mrs. Scully could say anything more, Mulder started to reassure her. "It's OK, I'll get to the bottom of this and call you back when I find out what's going on. Alright?" "Yes, Fox, I'll be right here," she replied. Mulder hung up the phone, panic rising in his chest. Where was she? It took him three days to track her down. He went to every airport, bus depot, and train station, showing her picture and explaining he was trying to get in touch with her because her husband had just died. People stared at him doubtfully until he pulled out his FBI badge, and then they were more than willing to assist him. The lady at the ticket counter at Baltimore-Washington International remembered her purchasing a ticket to Des Moines, Iowa and paying cash. She had commented on the shade of Scully's hair, wishing she could find that same color in a bottle. Yes, the old man behind the ticket counter at the Greyhound station nodded his head. He remembered the small woman with the red hair. She had paid cash for a one-way ticket to Storm Lake. She stuck in his mind because, in his words, she had looked as if she'd been crying recently, and he had hated to see such a sad look on such a pretty face. The cab driver in Storm Lake also remembered giving Scully a ride to the motel, because she had fallen asleep in the back seat and he had felt bad for having to wake her up, she had looked so lonely and tired. He had been relentless in his pursuit, tirelessly asking the same question over and over again until he got the answer he was waiting for. So here he was, outside her motel room, at eleven o'clock in the morning. He listened for a minute, but everything was quiet behind the door. One of the maids was standing beside him, and he nodded to her. She reached up and knocked on the door. "Housekeeping," she called out loudly. "No, thank you," came a voice from the other side of the door. Scully's voice. "Ma'am, are you sure you don't want some fresh towels or linens?" the maid asked. She had told Mulder that the "Do Not Disturb" sign had been hanging on the door ever since the woman had checked in. "No, thank you," she repeated. The maid turned to Mulder and shrugged her shoulders. He stepped forward and knocked on the door. "Scully, it's me. Open the door." He waited anxiously, not sure what her next move would be. He had motioned for the maid to move away from the door, in case Scully had been watching too much TV again and came out shooting like she had done on a previous occasion. Finally, he heard the chain being lifted. He turned the handle and pushed the door open slowly, peering in. Scully had backed away to the far side of the room. She was still in her pajamas, and her red hair was disheveled. She looked at him accusingly, waiting for his next move. Mulder stepped all the way into the room and closed the door. "Lock it," she commanded. He slid the chain back into place, then started to walk towards her. Scully moved back another couple of steps, until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed. They stared at each other silently for a few seconds. "How did you find me?" she finally asked. Mulder shook his head. "You don't exactly blend in with the crowd, Scully," he said. "Are you trying to ditch me? Because if this is payback for all the times I ditched you, I think we're even." She didn't respond to his question. "What's going on here, Scully?" "Have you ever asked yourself what would be the one thing that would finally convince you to give up the X-Files?" she asked. Mulder gaped at her. Scully folded her arms across her chest. She made a sound that was almost like a laugh, except that her face looked more like she was about to start crying. "You see," she accused. "You can't even answer me because you can't fathom the idea of ever leaving the X-Files. They're your entire reason for existence. Without them, you have no purpose, no reason to get up in the morning." Mulder opened his mouth to interrupt her, but she continued angrily. "Well, Mulder, I have finally found something that is more important than the X-Files, and I am not about to give it up. Not for the X-Files, not for you, not for anything. But I knew you could never understand that, so I wanted to get away before you tried to convince me I was wrong, and I ended up staying and losing everything." Mulder suddenly became furious and he strode toward her, grabbing her wrist. "Without even giving me a chance? Do you respect me that little that you wouldn't even give me a choice? You just assume that I won't listen to you, that I don't respect you enough to let you make your own decisions. It's your life, Scully. You can do whatever the hell you want with it," he added, piercing her with his intense gaze. She bit her lip and tried to twist out of his grip, but he held on tighter, until she gasped in pain. "Mulder, let me go," she pleaded, and when he saw the tears in her eyes and realized he was hurting her, he released his hand quickly. She put a hand up to her mouth and pushed past him, into the bathroom. He followed her in and watched as she knelt by the toilet. Seconds later, she began to retch, and Mulder bent down to put a hand on her back to steady her, using his other hand to pull her hair back out of her face. "Goddammit, she's sick again. The cancer's come back." Mulder realized as soon as this thought entered his mind he was making a pretty big assumption, but it would explain why she was trying to get away from him. She didn't want him to know. After a few minutes, Scully leaned back from the toilet. Mulder got up and ran some water into a glass, then quietly handed it to her. She took it gratefully and drank, then spit it back into the toilet to get the taste out of her mouth. It helped a bit. She handed the glass back to Mulder, who set it on the counter. He sat down on the floor beside her. "Do you want to go back to bed?" he asked. She shook her head. She wasn't sure if she was finished yet, so she wanted to remain in the bathroom, just in case. Mulder seemed to understand. Gently, he leaned back against the wall and pulled Scully close to him so he could wrap his arms around her. She resisted, but he finally succeeded in getting her to lean against him, her head resting on his chest. Scully closed her eyes, willing the nausea to go away, and Mulder felt her slowly relax into him. After a few minutes of silence, he whispered, "Is it the cancer?" Scully sat up and looked him right in the eye. "No," she said firmly. "It's not the cancer." Mulder stared at her, until he was certain she was telling him the truth. She put her head back down against his chest. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong, then?" He felt her take a deep breath and then let it out slowly. Patiently, he waited, his heart growing heavier with each second that passed between them in silence. He thought she had fallen asleep, until her voice broke the quiet. "I'm pregnant." She felt his arms tighten around her. Mulder's breath caught in his throat. A thousand questions raced through his mind, but he allowed himself to voice only one out loud. "Are you sure?" Scully felt the tears well up in her eyes as she nodded. "I took every pregnancy test kit I could find on the shelf. They were all positive, and they're 95% accurate." Mulder couldn't think of a response. He tried to calm his breathing down, and had nearly succeeded in getting it back to an even rhythm when her next words came, leaving him feeling colder and more afraid than he could ever have imagined. "Mulder, I haven't slept with anyone in over a year." Time froze as Mulder tried to comprehend the meaning behind her words. Slowly, he began to rock her back and forth, his mind churning over what she had just revealed. Scully remained silent in his arms, letting her tears fall onto his white shirt. After about ten minutes, as Mulder was beginning to realize he could no longer feel anything past his waist, he felt Scully begin to tremble in his arms. He realized she only had on a thin pair of pajamas, and she was probably cold. "I think you should try and get back to bed, Scully. You're freezing sitting on this cold floor." She nodded her head and sat up, closing her eyes against the sudden movement. A minute went by before she struggled to stand up, Mulder supporting her, although his own legs now felt like rubber. Slowly, they made their way back to the bed, and Scully gratefully sank back down. Mulder pulled the comforter up around her and bundled it tightly under her chin, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. Her eyes bored into his, silently communicating her fear and her doubts. What were they going to do? Mulder squeezed her hand. "We'll figure something out," he promised. Scully nodded her head and closed her eyes, hoping that he was right. Mulder went over to a chair in the corner of the room and collapsed into it. He leaned his head back against the cushions and put his feet up on the coffee table. The word kept revolving around his head. "Pregnant. Pregnant. She's pregnant. Scully's pregnant." It was impossible. At the clinic in Pennsylvania, Kurt Crawford had told him about the procedure that had been performed on the women who were abducted. How their ova had been harvested to be used in an experiment to develop an alien-human hybrid. He had held a vial containing Scully's eggs in his own hand. The Lone Gunmen had confirmed the contents. Scully had been told by her regular medical doctor that she was unable to have children. What the hell was happening? The Consortium had to be involved. They could have created it, planned it from the start, all the way back when she was first abducted. Mulder's mind was spinning with all of the unanswered questions, questions which he doubted they would ever fully be able to answer. He closed his eyes, but the image of Scully's worried face would not let him rest. Scully woke up a couple of hours later and looked at the clock. 2:00 pm. She felt a lot better, but she knew from experience that if she tried to sit up too fast, the nausea would return full-force. So she lay back and relaxed for a couple of minutes, until she heard Mulder moving around. Turning her head, she saw him watching her. She smiled thinly. "Hey," she said. "Hey," he returned. "How are you feeling?" "A little better, but that's only because I'm still lying down. Things could change quickly if I decide to get up." "Well, just lie there then. I'm making a sandwich for lunch. Do you want one? It's peanut butter," he said lightly to try and tempt her. Scully looked panicked. "No, Mulder, please don't bring it anywhere near me. The slightest whiff of food will send me straight back to the bathroom. I'm serious." "Well, how about a cup of tea, then? You really should try and get something into your system." "OK, tea sounds safe enough, but nothing else," she warned him. Mulder turned and walked over to the small kitchen to plug in the kettle. When he returned with a tray a few minutes later, Scully had managed to sit up in bed. She still looked incredibly pale, but at least the greenish tint had faded. Mulder set the tray down on the bed. He had also bought a box of unsalted soda crackers at the convenience store behind the motel, because for some reason he thought people who felt sick were supposed to eat unsalted soda crackers to ease their queasy stomachs. He didn't know where he had gotten that piece of information, but Scully seemed to approve, because after she had taken a few sips of tea, she picked up a cracker and nibbled a small bit off the corner. He smiled encouragingly at her, and she smiled back. "Thanks, Mulder," she said. Mulder sat quietly while she ate two whole crackers and poured herself another cup of tea. Finally, he broke the silence. "How long have you known?" Scully sighed. "I haven't been feeling well for the last few weeks, but I checked my blood and did all the routine tests, and everything looked normal. It didn't feel like a virus, I just felt tired and run down. The nausea started about a week ago. In the back of my mind, I knew these were the classic symptoms of someone who is pregnant, but I tried not to think about it. I mean, the doctor told me I couldn't have children. Plus the fact that it takes two to tango. Finally, I decided to just take one test, so I could confirm that wasn't it. When it was positive, I went back to the drugstore and got a few more. You know me, can't trust just one result." She shrugged. "Always the skeptic," Mulder murmured. "Anyway, it was all over in about an hour. Every single one was positive. What could I do? I threw up and went to bed." "Are you going to the doctor to confirm it?" he asked. She shook her head. "Why not?" "Mulder, think carefully. If this is what you and I both think it is, then I don't want Them to find out. It's my responsibility to protect this..." she trailed off, waving her hand in the air. She hadn't said the word yet. She was still too afraid to say it in her head, and saying it out loud terrified her. Maybe because she was still in shock, and not ready to fully accept what her condition meant. Maybe because she had wanted this so badly for so long, but had resigned herself to the realization that it wasn't going to happen, and was now unprepared for the reality of the situation. And maybe because she didn't want to get her hopes up in case it all came crashing down around her. "But Scully, don't you think if They're behind this, then They already know. It's all part of the agenda, Scully. They're using you to..." Scully raised her hand to stop him. "Don't," she whispered. "Don't say it. I have to believe that They don't know about this, and They are not going to find out. Ever. Maybe They did plan this, but maybe They didn't know exactly when it would happen. I don't care what it takes, what I have to do, but They are not going to take this away from me. I won't allow it. I can't. Not after everything else They've done to me. I won't allow it to happen again." She was grasping at straws, but the firmness of her tone convinced Mulder her mind was made up. Nevertheless, he wouldn't be Mulder if he didn't try just one last time. "But Scully, you don't even know how far along you are. Aren't there tests they can do to see if it's healthy, what sex it is..." He stopped. This was one area he really didn't have a lot of experience in. Scully shook her head. "It's not important. What matters is that no one, and I mean no one, finds out about this. I'm not even telling my mother. I was too afraid to tell you. I thought I could just leave and handle it on my own, but now I realize I can't." She looked into his eyes fearfully, pleadingly. "I can't do this alone, Mulder." "Oh God, Scully," he thought. "How could you doubt that I wouldn't be there for you? Don't you know how much you mean to me? Don't you know that I would do ANYTHING for you, in the blink of an eye, without question if that was what you asked?" Aloud he said, "You know I'll help you. I promise, nobody will know unless you decide they should know. I'll do everything you ask." He took both of her hands in his and looked her straight in the eye, communicating with every fiber in his body how much she could trust him. Scully felt the tears come to her eyes. How could she have doubted his devotion to her, she wondered to herself. Gratefully, she squeezed his hands. Then, in the same instant, they both leaned towards each other, opening their arms to embrace one another. "Scully," Mulder whispered. "You're going to have a baby." It had been two months since that day, and Mulder had spent nearly every waking moment thinking of some kind of plan for them. So far, it had been relatively easy to hide Scully's condition. Scully had taken the rest of the week off work, using the flu as her excuse when she called in to work. By the following Monday morning, she was back at her desk, despite Mulder's protests. If she stayed sitting down for most of the morning, she could deal with the nausea, and by the afternoon she was back to the autopsy bay or the lab or doing whatever else needed to be done on their cases. The nausea had finally ended a week ago, much to Scully's relief. They never discussed the pregnancy in the office, knowing that there was always at least one person listening in on them at all times. Mulder had called the Lone Gunmen in to sweep his and Scully's apartments, which he had them do on a regular basis anyway, so it wouldn't seem too unusual to anyone who happened to be watching. It was just like another regular day in the office, both of them diligently working on their own thing, with only an occasional word or two passed between them to break their comfortable silence. As a matter of fact, Mulder was thinking it had been a long time since either of them had said anything to each other that afternoon, and he glanced up at his partner to suggest they take a break for a while. But he swallowed his words when he saw why things had been so quiet. Scully had fallen asleep over her papers, her cheek resting delicately on her forearm on top of the desk. Mulder knew they had to come up with a plan and put it into action soon. To those in the office who only saw them occasionally, Scully looked exactly the same, but Mulder was beginning to see how tight her suits were becoming, even though she kept her suit jacket buttoned until they were down in the basement with the door closed. Then she would open the jacket and let out a small breath, and Mulder, without trying to stare, would glance at her middle. He didn't know if it was his imagination or not, but he thought he could see a tiny bulge underneath her blouse. She never mentioned it, but he knew that with her small size, it was getting harder and harder to hide her growing stomach. Her growing exhaustion was also a cause for Mulder to worry. He passed up every case that came into the office which required any type of field work, unless it was something simple like re-interviewing witnesses, which would only take two or three days at the most. But Scully's energy level was waning, and it wasn't just because she was physically exhausted. She hadn't been sleeping at night. He had found that out the first night, when she awoke screaming from a nightmare and he had rushed over to the bed to comfort her. He had gathered her up in his arms and cradled her until she finally fell back asleep, then had laid her gently back down against the pillows and gone back to the too small motel chair. An hour later, he was back at her side, soothing her fears away again. The third time she awoke, he simply settled back against the headboard and held her all night. Her sleep was fitful and light, but she didn't cry out anymore. He hadn't asked what the nightmare was about, because he had a pretty good idea they were both sharing the same fears and doubts. The next day, they checked out of the motel and went back to Washington. He had wanted to stay with her that night as well, but Scully told him it would look too suspicious, and made him leave. He had had to fight the urge to rush back over to her apartment the next morning, waiting until after work and bringing some files with him so it would like they were working. The occasional field cases Mulder accepted were his way of ensuring Scully got at least some rest, because with their adjoining rooms, he was able to spend most of the night with her. Just being in the same room seemed to help her relax enough to fall into a dreamless sleep, but for Mulder, the actual contact with her was what soothed his restless sleep. So he made sure they went out of town at least once a week. Scully had not asked him, even once, if he had any plans for what they were going to do. She simply looked at him and trusted that he would figure this all out. She knew their time was running out, but she still never questioned him. For that Mulder was grateful, because he still didn't have a clue what they were going to do. As Mulder was staring at his partner, there was a sharp knock on their office door. Before he had time to acknowledge the sound, the door was opened, and Assistant Director Skinner stood in the doorway. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it when he looked in the room and saw Scully slumped over her desk. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Mulder. When he spoke, his words stirred Scully, and she slowly turned her head toward the sound. When she realized who was in the room, she quickly raised her head, her face burning hotly. "Agents, I'd like to see you up in my office in fifteen minutes," he said curtly, then backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Scully wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Mulder, I'm sorry," she apologized. "Why didn't you wake me?" Mulder shrugged. "Go freshen up and let's see what this is about," he said, trying to reassure her with a smile. Scully stood and reached for her suit jacket before going down the hallway to the bathroom. She came back five minutes later, and looked into Mulder's eyes. He reached for her hand and squeezed it briefly, releasing it before they headed out to the elevator. They were ushered directly into Skinner's office by his assistant. As they sat, side by side in their usual chairs, Skinner eyed them both carefully. Scully had her legs crossed professionally and was the picture of the calm, cool agent he had come to expect from her. Her eyes betrayed nothing as she stared straight back at him. Mulder was also the picture of the calm, cool, collected agent, but one foot bounced ever so slightly in front of him, and as Skinner wordlessly stared at him, he noticed his agent fighting not to look over at his partner. Skinner was worried about both of them. "Agent Mulder," he began, "can you please explain to me why you are rejecting nearly all of the cases I have sent down to your office in the past seven weeks." "Well sir, I frankly have not found them worthy of pursuing. Agent Scully and I have reviewed each case carefully, and there hasn't been much to go on in most of them. We have conducted several follow-up interviews, and submitted our findings in our reports." Mulder stopped talking and looked expectantly up at his boss. "What about the Emerson file? You didn't find the photographs and descriptions of the drawings of extraterrestrial life in a cave that has been inaccessible to humans for over four centuries to be in the least bit intriguing?" Mulder shrugged his shoulders. "I just thought they were more crappy drawings of buffalo." Skinner turned his head to Scully. "Agent Scully, perhaps you have a better explanation as to why your exceptional solve rate of over eighty percent has dropped to a meager forty percent lately." "Statistically, sir, we were bound to run into a string of cases that are more difficult to solve. I'm sure if you look again in another month, that number will be higher." "I see," Skinner said, nodding. "Well, agents, let's hope whatever is going on down there in that basement office of yours ends immediately and I start to see the kind of work I have come to expect from you over the last seven years." There was a pause, and then he said curtly "You may go." Mulder and Scully stood up quickly and headed for the door. "Agent Mulder, would you stay behind for a moment, please?" Skinner suddenly asked. He saw them both hesitate, and then Scully was through the door, and the two men were left alone. Mulder turned slowly around to look at the Assistant Director. "Off the record, Mulder, is anything wrong with either you or Agent Scully? You both look a bit tired." Mulder chewed on his lip for a moment, then dropped his eyes from Skinner's. "No sir," he said. "Everything is fine." "It's not the cancer, is it?" Skinner didn't even know where that had come from, but he couldn't deny he had been thinking about it since he had noticed the change in their work habits. Mulder's eyes came back up to meet his boss's. He shook his head adamantly. "No, it is definitely not the cancer, I can assure you of that," he said sincerely. "Alright, Mulder, thank you. I would hope you would think of me if you need...assistance, with anything," he said pointedly. Mulder nodded his head, then turned and left the office. When he got back downstairs, Scully was sitting back at her desk, pretending to do paperwork. She waited until he had seated himself in his chair, then stared into his eyes, questioning him silently. "He thinks it's your cancer," Mulder said. Scully nodded, then looked back down at her work. An hour later, Mulder had made a decision. He stood up and put on his overcoat. "I'm going to go see the guys about this case. I think they can help us out," he said by way of an explanation. Scully stood up also. "I'll come with you. I can't make heads or tails of this autopsy report," she said. Mulder was about to protest, but instead nodded his head. Together, they locked up the office and went out to the parking garage. Half an hour later, they stood inside The Lone Gunmen's office. Langly was engaged in a fight to the death battle with an army of giant mutant squids on his computer screen, while Byers was typing out his latest commentary on the appearance of crop circles in the midwest for the new issue of their newsletter. Frohike was attempting to make spaghetti sauce in the kitchen. Scully and Mulder stood side by side, Mulder's hand resting lightly on the small of Scully's back. "So, what brings you to our humble abode in the daylight hours?" Frohike asked. He held up a spoon with a dark red sauce dripping off the end and took a small taste, grimacing. "Needs more..." He glanced around the room. "...oregano," he muttered to himself, reaching into a small pouch and sprinkling something over the pot on the stove. "We need to leave," Mulder said quietly. Three heads turned to stare at the partners, everything else in the room forgotten. "What happened?" Byers asked. There was silence for a moment. They hadn't talked about this, but Mulder couldn't bring himself to not tell them. After everything they had been through with him, he couldn't shut the Lone Gunmen out now. And he needed their help with what he was about to do. Mulder turned his head to meet Scully's eyes, silently asking her permission. "I'm pregnant," was all she said. Three mouths dropped open simultaneously. Scully stared straight ahead, meeting their eyes. She felt Mulder's hand gently rubbing up and down on her back. The room was oddly still, until Frohike's pot of sauce began to bubble on the stove. "Your sauce is going to burn," Scully said, breaking the silence. Frohike turned and took the pot off the burner. "When do you wanna go?" Langly asked. "Couple of days," Mulder replied. Still, nobody moved. "Come on, Scully. The guys know what to do." Mulder touched her elbow, and Scully turned around to head toward the door. As she reached out for the handle, she heard a throat being cleared, and she looked back over her shoulder. She realized what was happening as soon as she saw the three of them standing awkwardly in a row, and a lump rose unbidden to her throat. Langly, first in line, stepped forward. His face turned bright red as he approached her. "I just....just wanted to say good luck and...and good-bye," he stuttered. Suddenly, Scully found herself caught in Langly's arms as he raised them in a brief, awkward hug. Her arms came up to circle around his waist as she returned the gesture. "Good-bye, Langly," she whispered. Langly dropped his arms and stepped back quickly. Frohike was next in line. He too hesitatingly wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. "You take care of that little guy in there," he said roughly. "And that big guy over there." Scully hugged him back, the tears brimming in her eyes. "I will," she promised him. He stepped back, and then it was Byers' turn. Byers hugged her gently, afraid he was going to hurt her if he squeezed too tight, but Scully drew him toward her with a strong sweep of her arms, and he tightened his embrace. "You'll be in our prayers," he said softly in her ear. Scully nodded against his neck, the tears now coursing down her cheeks to land on the collar of Byers' shirt. "Thank you," she whispered. Byers stepped back from her embrace, and she stood for a moment, looking at them solemnly, her eyes expressing the gratitude and love she felt for the three of them but could not voice. She felt Mulder's hand on her back again. "Come on, Scully," he said quietly. "Let's go." She turned back toward the door, wiping a hand across her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she looked at them one last time. "Good-bye," she said, before Mulder ushered her out the door. Two days later, Mulder and Scully found themselves in the small town of Yreka, California. They were there to interview three men who claimed to have seen "bright lights" in the sky every Tuesday night for the past month. The last man on their list, Robert Thompson, lived in a remote cabin on a logging road in the Klamath National Forest. The agents sat in their rental car outside the motel. It was nine o'clock in the morning. "Are you ready to go?" Mulder asked his partner. She turned her head to look at him. "Yes, I'm ready," she replied. Mulder put the car into drive and then reached out and took hold of his partner's hand. "Then let's do it," he said, and the car slowly pulled away from the curb. ******************************************************************************* The heavy oak door opened slowly, and the young man timidly stuck his head through the opening to look around the room. It was dimly lit, and stale smoke hung heavy in the air. In the shadows, he could see several men turn to stare at him. He cleared his throat. "Come in, come in," a voice beckoned him, and he stepped across the threshold, letting the door swing silently shut behind him. He waited nervously, his eyes finding an imaginary spot on the carpet to stare at. "Well?" The young man did not raise his eyes as he spoke. "We found their car, abandoned off a dirt road, in California. There is no other sign of them. We've looked everywhere." "Look again," the older man demanded. "I want them found." "Yes, sir," the young man said, before disappearing back through the oak door. A man at the back of the room stepped forward, removing a cigarette from between his lips before he spoke. "You won't find them," he said. "How can you be sure?" someone else in the room demanded. The man who was smoking remained silent, thoughtfully bringing the cigarette back up to his lips and inhaling deeply. ******************************************************************************* "They made up their minds And they started packing They left before the sun came up that day An exit to eternal summer slacking But where were they going without ever Knowing the way? They drank up the wine And they got to talking They now had more important things to say When the car broke down they started walking Where were they going without ever Knowing the way? Anyone can see the road that they walk on Is paved in gold It's always summer They'll never get cold They'll never get hungry They'll never get old and gray You can see the shadows wandering off somewhere They won't make it home But they really don't care They wander the highway They're happier there today." "The Way" by Fastball THE END