Title: Any Other Day
Author: ML
Email: msnsc21@aol.com
Feedback: always loved, always responded to
Distribution:  Kimpa, always; Enigmatic Dr., yes; anyone else,
please ask first (I'll probably say yes).
Spoilers: JTS and William
Rating: R
Classification:  Vignette
Summary: Aren't you tired of it?  To be shown something, a little
piece of something, only to have it snatched away again?  To know
that it will never truly be yours?

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, they belong to Chris
Carter, TenThirteen, and Fox Broadcasting.  I mean no infringement,
and I'm making no money.
=====

Any Other Day
by ML

Scully had stopped looking at the newspaper.  She avoided going
to  stores, not that she felt much like shopping anyway.  Even
the grocery store was dangerous.   The aisles were loaded with
flowers and candy and exhortations to Remember Mom on Her Special
Day.

It wasn't a special day for Scully.  She'd been a mother for less
than a year, and her own mother wanted nothing to do with her.

Maybe she could live on cereal and take out food until after
Mother's Day.

It's just another day, she told herself.  It means nothing.  If
I could just stop thinking about it.

She had a card for her mom, of course.  She'd bought it at the
same time she found a "for Grandma" card for William to give to
her.  The Mother's Day card was duly sent to San Diego, where
Maggie was spending a few weeks.  She'd left not long after
Scully told her about William, and didn't say when she'd be
returning.  It was a relief, in a way.  Scully had a hard time
being with Maggie Scully right now.  She suspected her mom was
having the same trouble with her.

The "For Grandma" card was tucked away in a box in her closet.
She couldn't bring herself to throw it away.  She kept it with
a lock of hair, a stuffed toy, and a tiny pair of socks.
Mementos of a life she was never meant to have.

This time last year, she'd actually entertained a few dreams, a
few illusions.  Not particularly about Mother's Day, but what it
would be like to be a mother.  For a brief time, she put all
practical worries aside.  She thought about weekend mornings in
bed, William snuggled between Mulder and her, cooing and giggling
in the sunshine streaming through the windows.  She thought about
trips to the park, just the three of them.

Her dreams had been modest.  She hadn't fantasized about a big
house, or a perfect family.  She was all too familiar with the
realities of her life.  She'd just wanted a little time once in
a while, some intervals of peace and happiness between the dangers
and crises of her haunted life.

All told, she'd had a handful of moments prior to and just after
William's birth, strung out over a few weeks, ending in a day's
idyll before reality inevitably and permanently set in.  The day
Mulder had left she knew that any chance of a normal life had
disappeared with him.

Life had been hard since then, but she'd still had hope.  Then
Mulder went missing entirely, just seemed to drop off the radar.
Her only tenuous contact with him had been through the Gunmen;
now they were gone.

And now William was gone, too.

Scully felt completely, entirely alone.  Skinner seemed distant
since William's birth and Mulder's disappearance.  The friendship
and concern of Monica Reyes and John Doggett couldn't possibly
make up for what she'd lost in the past year.  Lately, they seemed
to be avoiding her.  She couldn't blame them.  Everything she'd
touched in the past year had turned to shit, and she was dangerous
to be around.

Even her mother had abandoned her, and who could blame her?  Scully
had given up her child, and her mother would never understand it,
even if Scully sat her down and told her everything that had
happened in the past nine years.  It was too little, too late,
and Maggie Scully's patience and understanding had finally reached
its limits.

Scully didn't want to think about that conversation any more.
She hadn't expected comfort; she hadn't even expected sympathy.
She thought her mother might rage and scream and cry, and she
could forget her own grief in ministering to her mother's.

What Scully hadn't expected was the cold acceptance of her news
and her mother's refusal to listen to her reasons or her fears.
Maggie Scully's reaction added another layer of ice to her already
frozen heart.

Whatever her mother could have said to her, it would have been
better than silence.  Scully hadn't expected understanding, but
she hoped for a little forgiveness.  Just enough to feel that
some warmth, somewhere, existed in her world.  That someone
could forgive her.  She could feel no forgiveness for herself.

I'm a complete failure, Scully thought.  I couldn't help Mulder,
I couldn't help the Gunmen, and I couldn't keep William from
harm.

She spent long hours at work.  Her apartment wasn't the haven it
once was.  Between the memories of Jeffrey Spender's visit that
signaled the beginning of the end, and William's baby things, she
hated going home.  She needed to get rid of the crib and the
clothes and the toys, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.
She just put everything in the back bedroom and kept the door
shut.

It didn't help.  Every room held memories of either William or
Mulder.  The fish tank.  Mulder's little Buddha statue.   The
couch where she and Mulder so often sat, and where their
reconciliation finally began, before William was born.  William's
toys, a stray sock found clinging to one of her shirts in the
dryer, a rattle under her bed.

The Gunmen, sitting at the dining room table, reluctantly
helping Mulder break in to a restricted facility.  Tending to
Mulder's wounds after yet another break-in.  Mulder's luggage,
piled haphazardly in the living room.  All gone now.

Sleep brought no respite.  She dreamed too much.  Even the happy
dreams were disturbing; she thought about them too much during
the day, yearning for their return.  She almost welcomed the
nightmares.  They were at least familiar, and not always so far
removed from her reality.

Most nights, she was the last person in the Forensic Pathology lab,
finishing up lecture notes, grading tests, re-writing a report.
Anything to delay the drive home to the empty apartment that still
echoed with the sounds of a baby she knew she'd never see again.

"Agent Scully."  The familiar voice startled her; it was out of
context and it took her a moment to realize who was calling to
her.  For a moment she thought she heard Section Chief Blevins.
She heard voices all the time now, it seemed.  She wasn't sure
if they were waking dreams or if she was going crazy.

She looked up to see Assistant Director Skinner standing in the
doorway of her office.

"Sir," she said tonelessly.  It didn't occur to her to ask why
he was there.  She assumed it was bad news.  It nearly always
was, even if on the surface it appeared to be good.

"What are you doing here so late?"  he asked.  His tone was as
gruff as always, but he seemed concerned.

"I had some things to finish up," she said.

"May I sit down?"

She nodded toward the only other chair in the office.

"I tried calling you at home," Skinner said.

"What about?"  Scully asked.  She thought, just tell me, don't
bother with the social niceties.  What is it now?  Mulder's been
found dead?  My mom?  William?

"I just wanted to know how you are," Skinner said.  "How you're
holding up."

"I'm fine," Scully said, not bothering to look up at him.

Mulder would never let her get away with saying that.  He'd be
on that word like white on rice, but Skinner let it pass.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he persisted.

Scully shook her head, but relented and looked up.  "Not a thing,"
she said.  "There's nothing to be done."  She looked down at her
papers again.  "Thanks for asking."

Skinner just sat for a while.  She kept on with her work, but she
could feel his eyes on her.  I just wish he'd go, she thought.  I
know he means well, but there really is nothing he can do.

At length, Skinner did stand.  "Are you staying much longer?"

"I just need to finish these few things," Scully said.  "But it
might take a while."  She wouldn't come right out and ask him to
leave, but she hoped he'd take the hint.

After a few more moments of silence, he did.  "I'll say good
night then, Agent Scully." Skinner rose from the chair.  Don't
stay too late."

"No, Sir," Scully said automatically, hardly hearing him.  "Good
night, Sir."

It was close to midnight when Scully got home.  She fed the fish,
took off her shoes, and curled up on the couch to wait out the
night.

x-x-x-x

One day was very much like another, each running into the next,
day after day, week after week.  Weekends only meant that she
had the offices to herself for a longer period of time.  It was
comforting, being the only one living among the dead.  So often,
she felt like she was the dead one, walking among the living,
unnoticed.

She volunteered to be on call over the Mother's Day weekend and
spent it in her office.  Later, she drove to a deserted stretch
of road and allowed herself to cry until she was lightheaded, her
face hot and puffy, her throat raw.

x-x-x-x

A week later, Scully got a call from Kimberly.  "Agent Scully,
Assistant Director Skinner would like to see you in his office
at your earliest convenience."

Scully hadn't seen or talked to Skinner since his visit to her
office a few weeks before.  She figured he must have promised to
keep an eye on her, and he was fulfilling his duty as far as she
would let him.  It didn't matter.  He could watch over her all he
wanted, and it wouldn't change anything.  Still, she dutifully
went to the Hoover Building after class, canceling her afternoon
office hours.

Kimberly ushered her right in when she arrived.  She wondered
what was so urgent.  Skinner was at his desk, holding a large
manila envelope in his hands.

"Agent Scully, I received this for you yesterday.  I think it
might be of some interest to the case you've been working on."

What case?  Had Doggett volunteered her for something again?
Mystified, Scully took the envelope from Skinner.  "What is it?"

"You'll have to open it, Agent Scully.  It's addressed to you, not
me," Skinner said.  His intercom buzzed.  Kimberly said something
Scully couldn't catch on the other end.  Skinner said, "I'll be
right there," and excused himself from the office.

Apparently alone, Scully glanced around the room to be sure.
There were no shadowy men smoking in the corner, though she
couldn't be sure that there wasn't some sort of surveillance.

She tore open the flap and a smaller white envelope fell out.
There was nothing else in it.

The small envelope was blank but there was something inside.
Should I open it?  she thought.  Imagine being felled by some
biotoxin, after all I've seen and done.  And in Skinner's
office, too.

It was a Mother's Day card.  This seemed unbelievably cruel,
but not surprising.  Their enemies sometimes had a sick sense
of humor.  As she opened the card, a picture fell out.

It was William, no doubt about that.  But she couldn't tell who
was holding him; the man's back was to the camera, and she couldn't
see his face.  The photo had the grainy quality of something blown
up from a long-range shot.

William looked healthy and happy.  It must have been a recent
photo; she was surprised at how much bigger he'd gotten in the
weeks since she'd given him up.

She looked at the back of the picture, and inside both envelopes
for any clue of who'd sent the picture and why.  She sat staring
at the picture until she heard Skinner's voice in the outer
office.  She shoved everything back in the envelope with
trembling fingers before Skinner opened the door.  She tried
to compose herself.  She couldn't allow herself to think about
what the picture meant.

"I have your 302, Agent Scully,"  Skinner said.  "Your ticket
will be at the American Airlines counter.  Your flight leaves
in about two hours, so you'd better get home and get your bag."

"What is my assignment?  What has it got to do with this?"  She
held the envelope in her hand, willing it not to shake.

"You'll receive instructions when you get there," Skinner said.
"Now get going."  His tone invited no more questions, brooked no
argument.

Scully rose, taking the envelope with her.

x-x-x-x

At home, Scully barely had time to think, and wouldn't allow
herself to hope.  She packed automatically, her actions honed
by years of practice.

She paused at the box in the top of her closet.  She opened it
and looked at its contents briefly:  a stuffed toy, a tiny tee
shirt.  A packet of little reminders of her past life.  Did she
really want to hope?  Did she really want to go through with this?

What if it was just another red herring?  Was Skinner being led,
the way Doggett had been?  It had been on the tip of Scully's
tongue to argue with Skinner, to ask him to leave well enough
alone, to refuse to go.

But she couldn't.  There was still enough life and hope left in
her that she couldn't say no.  Even if it meant failure once
again.  She would keep trying to believe until her last breath.
 She owed herself that.  She owed it to William, and to Mulder.

x-x-x-x

There was no packet waiting for her at the airline counter, just
a ticket.  Her destination was Salt Lake City, Utah, with a
stopover in Denver, Colorado.  Maybe this was a transfer, and
Skinner neglected to tell her that.  Scully called Skinner on
her cell as she strode down the terminal.

"Assistant Director Skinner asked me to let you know that he
would Fed Ex the file to you with the information you need,"
Kimberly said.  "It should get there about the same time you
do."

"May I speak to the Assistant Director?"  Scully asked as she
approached the gate.

"I'm sorry, Agent Scully, but he's just gone into a meeting with
the Deputy Director and cannot be disturbed."

"Very well."  Scully thumbed off the phone as she arrived at the
gate.  What was this case, and what did it have to do with the
picture in the envelope?

She had the envelope with her but she wouldn't open it on the
plane or anywhere in public.  The flight to Denver gave her a
long time to think without much result.  She tried to imagine
Mulder arguing counter-point in her head.  She'd tried to do
that before, when he was missing.  She'd tried to be him, with
little success.  Now she struggled again, trying to see things
the way Mulder might see them, to make the leap of intuition,
of faith, of hope.

When her flight landed, Scully discovered that the last flight
for Salt Lake City had been canceled, and she would have to
re-schedule for the following day.  The earliest flights were
already booked; she put herself on standby but booked the noon
flight.

Once again, Scully tried to call Skinner.  There was no answer
on his private line, and it was well past office hours.  She
left a message explaining the layover, and reserved a room at
the airport hotel.

At check in, the desk clerk said, "I have a delivery for you,
Ms. Scully.  It arrived this afternoon."  He handed over a Fed
Ex package with her room key.

Odd, thought Scully.  How could he know that I would have to
stay the night in Denver?  Had he called ahead to the airport?
Why?

As soon as she got upstairs, Scully opened the packet.  Inside
was the key to a rental car, and a map with the route marked
out in red.

According to the map, she was to drive north to Wyoming.  And
she was to do it that evening.

"This is a short side trip," the accompanying note said.  "You
can investigate this lead and be back in Denver in time to catch
your flight."

Were these instructions really from Skinner?  Was all this talk
about a case just double-talk to cover up the real reason he'd
sent her here?  What was in Wyoming that she was supposed to
investigate?  She pushed down the thought that it had something
to do with William.

She had no idea where William was taken when she gave him up; it
seemed safer not to know.  More than anything else, more than
her own safety, Scully wanted William to be safe and happy.

She took the picture out again and studied it.  He looked
healthy, and happy; his blue eyes looked straight at the
camera over the shoulder of the man who held him.  A man
who could be Mulder, or not; she couldn't see enough of him
to be sure.

She tried Skinner once more with no success.  She decided not
to mention the packet or the questions she had about it.  It
wasn't a lack of trust in Skinner, but a fear of being overheard
that stopped her.

Time was moving on while she sat there, indecisive.  If it had
to do with William, she had to go, whatever the consequences.
She put on her coat, got her purse and gun, and went down to
find the car.
The car was in the hotel parking lot, an anonymous Lariat rental
car in a sea of rental cars.  She got in and searched the glove
box but there were no further clues.  After a moment, she started
the car and backed out of the parking place.

She kept watchful for anything unusual, anything alarming or out
of place.  She took the precautions almost automatically, without
really believing they'd do much good.  This was too much like the
journey that she'd taken to meet the mysterious super soldier.
The only thing missing so far was the change of clothes.

The Colorado-Wyoming border wasn't that far from Denver.  Once
she got away from the city and outlying sprawl, the landscape
was open and traffic was light.  The directions were easy enough
to follow.  There weren't that many roads off of the main one.
But it was now well past sunset and she drove cautiously.  She
knew that this was the dangerous time; a car with its headlights
off would be virtually invisible.

What would she do if this was a trap?  She was alone out here, no
backup within hundreds of miles.  It wasn't that she distrusted
Skinner; far from it.  But if he was being played, this could be
it for her.

She couldn't bring herself to care.  Life without hope was no
life at all, and she felt she'd been left with nothing to hope
for.  But it didn't mean that she wouldn't go down fighting.
She checked her gun in the seat beside her.

After a while, Scully could see a slight glow of civilization
in the distance.  It must be Cheyenne; there were few other towns
in this corner of Wyoming, according to her map.  She turned onto
a secondary road, heading east, away from the lights.  After a
while she pulled off the road, turning off the engine and getting
out of the car.  She listened intently, surveying the low hills
and the road before and behind her.

Almost silence.  The sound of the wind, bringing with it a
distant train whistle, the sound of a dog or a -- a coyote,
maybe? -- barking.  No headlights at any distance, no sound of
any other vehicle on this road.  The lights of Cheyenne were
still some way to the northwest of her, and she could see nothing
but the outlines of low hills and a few trees here and there, in
between.  Anything else was hidden from view.

She got back in the car and drove a little further, topping a rise
and stopping the car again.

It was now completely dark.  She turned off her headlights and got
out of the car again.  This was a darkness she seldom experienced
at home; no streetlights, no headlights to lessen it.  She looked
up at the stars, remembering the last time she'd seen them so
clearly, in Montana.  She'd thought about Mulder's soul that
night, residing in the starlight, maybe with Samantha.

Skinner had tried to give her hope then.  It had ended badly, but
that wasn't his fault.  She felt sorry for Skinner, so many times
either the bearer of bad news or at least the witness to it.  She
felt the tears running down her cheeks as she remembered, the
stars before her blurring and running together.  What the hell
was she doing here?  Damn Skinner for doing this; for giving her
hope, for making her think that there could still be a happy
ending somewhere.

She angrily wiped the tears from her cheeks and turned back to
the car.  As she did so, she caught a distant light, low on the
horizon, out of the corner of her eye.  She watched it for a
while.  It held steady, not getting any closer.  She hadn't
noticed it before, but perhaps it had been hidden from view.

She got out her flashlight and checked her map.  It appeared to
be the direction she was heading for, her own star to follow.
She got in and started the car, driving slowly toward her future,
whatever it might contain.

The light appeared and disappeared as Scully followed the curves
of the road through and around the hills and valleys.  But it
stayed steady, and as she got closer, she felt her heart beat
more strongly, either with fear or anticipation; perhaps both.
Probably both.

She turned off the paved road and onto a gravel one, the sound
gratingly loud to her ears.  She pulled the car over one last
time, turning it to face toward the main road, and walked the
rest of the distance along the side of the drive, trying not to
make any more noise.

It was very quiet, except for the sound of the wind rustling
through the grass and the trees.  She strained to listen for
any other sound that might be masked by the wind.  Nothing.
Not even any dogs barking.

She came to the end of the road, widening into a yard in front
of what looked like a small, rustic cabin.  There was a porch
along the front of the cabin, and one light shone from the
front window.  Scully stood watching, waiting, wondering if she
should go knock on the door or just turn around and go back.

The decision was taken out of her hands as the front door
opened.  Light streamed out of it, silhouetting a man.  His
hands were by his sides, and he raised them slightly.

Scully approached cautiously, her hand fumbling for her gun and
holding it down at her side, ready to react.

"You gonna shoot me, coppa?"  came the much longed-for voice.
The man stepped down from the porch and the light from the
window caught the side of his face now, illuminating it.

"Mulder," she whispered in disbelief.

"Hey, Scully," he said, as if he'd seen her just the day before.
"Come on in."

======
 

The light dazzled her momentarily and Scully stood just inside
the doorway, adjusting to it.  Mulder stood behind and to one
side, close enough that she could feel his warmth.  She hadn't
realized how cold she'd gotten until then.

It was a small cabin, as rustic inside as it was outside, but
cozy.  A fire burned in a woodstove, and a couple of oil lamps
were lit.

"I'm glad you came, Scully," Mulder said.  "Though I wouldn't
have blamed you if you hadn't."

Scully turned to look at him fully for the first time.  His hair
was longer than she'd ever seen it, and he had a day's growth of
beard.  He looked fit, though thin.  He was leaner and harder
looking than she remembered, and his face looked weathered.
Nobody had ever looked so good to her.

Still, she didn't move toward him.  She couldn't seem to speak.
She whispered, "Mulder," again, unable to continue.

"I think you can put that down now, Scully, unless you're planning
to shoot me again," Mulder said, gesturing to her gun but making
no move to touch her.

It was a gesture of trust, and she knew she had to do it.  Did
she really believe this was Mulder?  Of course she did.  She
wanted to.  She had to.  After a moment, she put her gun back in
its holster at her back.

Mulder made no comment, and didn't urge her to take the holster
off.

They stood looking at each other, neither wanting to make the
first move.  Then Mulder smiled.

"Can you stay awhile, Scully?" he asked.  "I can't offer you much
in the way of hospitality, but I have something I want to show
you."  He gestured toward the only place to sit in the room, a
seedy-looking couch.  There was a table of sorts in front of it,
made from some sort of large wooden cable spool.

Scully sat.  Mulder rummaged around in a backpack and pulled out
an envelope.  He sat beside her and spilled the contents out on
the table.

Several pictures of William were arrayed before her.  All appeared
to have been taken at a distance, and outside.  William sitting
beneath a clothesline with sheets blowing behind him.  William
in the arms of a man or a woman, always with their backs to the
camera.  William sleeping in the sun in a playpen, his rump stuck
up in the air and his thumb in his mouth.  His hair looked darker
in the pictures.  Scully wondered if his eyes were still baby
blue-gray, or if they'd started to turn hazel.

"Where?"  she asked.  "Where did you get these?  Have you seen
him?"

"I can't tell you where, but they're from someone I trust.  I
haven't seen him except in pictures.  I didn't want to risk
exposing him, or me.  But he's safe, Scully.  As safe as he
can be."

"I want to see him," Scully said, and she was surprised to hear
her own voice, harsh and demanding.

"We can't, Scully.  It's not safe."

"Then why did you do this?"  Scully asked sharply.  "Why did you
show me something I'm not allowed to have?"

Mulder's face fell.  "I wanted to give you some reassurance,
Scully.  And I've missed you so much.  I wanted to see for myself
how you were.  I thought you'd want it, too."

"I don't want to be given something that's just going to be taken
away again," Scully said, pulling away from Mulder.  "It's cruel."
She left the couch and the cabin.  It would be better to leave
now, before she said something unforgivable, or before she broke
down completely.

Mulder followed her.  "Scully," he started to say.

She turned on him, pushing him away and turning her back to him.
"Aren't you tired of it too, Mulder?  To be shown something, a
little piece of something, only to have it snatched away again?
To know that it will never truly be yours?"

"Of course I'm tired of it, Scully," he said.  "What do you
think?"

"Then why?  Why do this to yourself?  To me?  What good has it
done?"

"Because I can't quit, Scully.  Because I have to keep hoping.
Isn't that better than the alternative?"

It was as though he voiced her earlier thoughts.  In the blink
of an eye, she thought of Mulder on his own, feeling the same way
she had.  She wondered how he'd heard about William, and what he'd
felt.  She began to sob quietly, hugging herself in the cold empty
night.

"Hey," Mulder's voice brushed against her ear like a warm breath.
She felt his arms come around her, pulling her back against him.

Scully turned in his arms.  "What happens now?"  she whispered
against his chest.  She was almost afraid to touch him, afraid
he'd vanish.  She was surprised to realize that she felt both
anger and desire at his touch.

"Let's go back inside," Mulder said.  "We don't have a lot of
time."

"How much?"  Scully looked up at him.  "How much time?"

"A couple of hours, anyway.  Unless you want to leave now."
Mulder's face was shadowed as they turned toward the cabin.

"What if I don't want to go back at all?"  Scully said, very
quietly.  Mulder's back was to her, and he showed no sign of
having heard her.

She allowed him to lead her back inside and seat her on the sofa
again.  "Do you want some tea, or something to eat?" he asked.
"I've gotten pretty good at rustic cuisine."

"No electricity, Mulder?"  Scully asked, looking around.  She
realized that all the lights were oil lamps.  There were a few
modern additions but only the kind that would serve to keep the
cabin habitable in harsh conditions, no frills.

"No wiring, not even a generator, Scully.  Who'd have thought
I'd become so self-sufficient?  Didn't you say once that I'd
couldn't survive without a cell phone?"

"Well, at least it's better kept than the Peacock house," Scully
said, wrinkling her nose at the memory.  "Have you been here all
along?"

Something in Mulder's face shut down.  "No, I've moved around a
good bit," was all he said.

"How did Skinner know where to find you?"  Scully asked.

"He didn't.  He had no idea where he was sending you."  Mulder
went into the other room and Scully heard a rhythmic metallic
squeaking for a few moments, and the sound of water.  He came
back into the main room with a kettle that he set on the wood
stove, stirring up the coals inside.

"So the ticket, and the instructions, and the Fed Ex package..."

"...all arranged by me," Mulder said.  "I've been in touch with
Skinner, off and on, since that thing at the quarry.  It was too
dangerous to get in touch with you directly."

"That means..." Scully couldn't bring herself to say it.

"That I know about the guys, yes.  And what you've been going
through," Mulder said.  "I'm sorry, Scully.  If I'd known it
was going to be like this, I'd never have left."  He sat next
to Scully and turned sideways to look at her.  "You know, I
always thought you'd do better without me that I'd do without
you."

"I haven't done very well at all," Scully said quietly.  "I
need you just as much as you need me."

Mulder reached out and stroked her cheek with his finger.  "I'm
so sorry, Scully," he said, and he opened his arms to her.  She
pressed herself against him, hiding her face in his shoulder,
letting the sobs break over her.  She felt Mulder's hands on her
back, rubbing softly up and down, as if he comforted a child.

They sat that way for a long time, Mulder murmuring softly in her
ear, placing soft kisses on her cheek.  She felt as if she could
stay there forever, just being held by him, not having to go on
and face the future.

The hissing sound of water boiling brought them back to the
present.  Mulder pulled away from her, slowly, reluctantly, and
poured the hot water into mugs, rummaging around for tea bags
in one of his packs.

He sat down next to Scully again but the spell was broken.
Scully held her mug in both hands, though it was hot enough
to be painful.

"You'll have to go pretty soon, Scully," Mulder said, not
looking at her.  "Unless you want to sleep here and go in the
morning.  I can't say the accommodations are very comfortable,
but..."

"Take me with you when you go," Scully said suddenly.  "Please.
I don't want to go back home alone."

"I don't think it's a good idea, Scully," Mulder said.  He still
wouldn't look at her.

"Why not?"

"We haven't planned for this.  It's too dangerous.  I'm not sure
you should come with me.  You don't know what I've had to face."

"Maybe it's better not to have a plan.  Maybe it's best to just
disappear.  Look what planning has done for us so far, Mulder.
Months have passed since you had to go, and you're still in hiding,
we're still apart.

"And I had to give up William.  I know, we `planned' for that
eventuality, too, but I hoped it would never come true."  Scully
could feel the tears starting, and she forced herself to remain
calm.  Tears were manipulative, and she wanted to remain as
logical about this as she could be.  "I want to go with you
when you go, Mulder.  Even if it means hiding for the rest of
our lives."

Mulder did turn to look at her now, and she could see the pain
in his eyes.  "I can't ask you to do that, Scully.  Think about
what you're saying.  What you're giving up.  You might never get
to see your family again, you'll be in danger all the time--"

"You should know, Mulder, that my mother hasn't wanted to have
much to do with me since I gave William up," Scully told him.
"And when haven't we been in danger?  Both of us?  At least we
could watch each other's backs."

"It won't be for long this time," Mulder said, but his voice
lacked conviction.  "I promise you.  I'll either be back soon,
or you'll be able to come to me, for good."

"And William?"  Scully asked.

She hadn't wanted to bring William up again, not yet.  She hoped
that somehow Mulder had come up with a way for them to get him
back, and that he was waiting to be sure of her before he did
so.

"I don't think we could have him with us, Scully.  How could we?"
He was silent for a moment.  "Is that why you want to come with
me?  Because you think we could have William with us?"

"No, of course not," she said, but she knew that it was partially
true.

"I don't think we should talk about this right now, Scully," he
said.

"Now is all the time we have, Mulder.  I've thought so many times
about quitting the FBI, going to look for you, and lately, I have
so much less to lose.  I don't want to lose you again."

"You never have, Scully," Mulder said softly.  "I'm always with
you.  I'll always be with you, no matter what."

Scully felt the tears start.  "I want to believe that, Mulder,"
she said.  "Please help me believe."

"Believe me, Scully," Mulder said.  He turned to her now and
hugged her close and hard.  He pressed his lips to her forehead
and trailed them down her cheek.  "Believe," he whispered against
her mouth.

Scully closed her eyes and let herself be swept into Mulder's
kiss.  Please don't let this be goodbye again, she thought.  I
can't bear another goodbye.

Mulder broke the kiss but he continued to hold her and she took
great comfort in it.  "Maybe we should get some sleep, see how
things look in the morning," he said.  "You can have the couch."

"What about you?"  Scully asked.

"I've been sleeping on the floor," Mulder said.  "I'm used to
it.  Besides, the couch is too short for me."

"I don't have anything to wear," Scully said.  "All my things
are at the hotel."

"I'm sure I can dig up something," Mulder said.  He got up and
pulled  a tee shirt and some pajama bottoms out of one of his
bags.  "I'm sure they're a little large, but they'll do.  I can
warm up some more water for washing, but I'm afraid the facilities
are out back."

This is what life on the run could be like, Scully thought to
herself.  Who knows what living conditions they might endure?
This might be primitive, but what if they had to *really* rough
it?  He was right, it would be no kind of life for William.

"Scully?"  Mulder was asking her a question.  "Take the lantern,
and it's out back just about a hundred yards from the back door.
Give me your car keys and I'll move your car to someplace less
conspicuous."

By the time Mulder came back, Scully had been out and back, and
had changed into her borrowed nightclothes.  She felt awkward.
She huddled on the couch, her feet tucked up under her, blanket
around her shoulders.  She listened for Mulder coming in the
back door, heard him pause in the kitchen to wash, presumably,
judging from the sounds.

He came back into the main room and she watched him spread out
his sleeping bag and some blankets in front of the stove.  He
worked silently, not even looking at Scully, though she couldn't
take her eyes off him.

She thought about the last time they'd shared a room, the night
before he left.  She'd been sitting on the bed, nursing William,
watching him move around her bedroom.  He seemed unwilling to
stop moving, unable to face what they had to face.

They'd held each other close that night, but neither of them
slept much.  He'd gotten up with her when William cried, and
stood beside her as she bent over him.  When she picked William
up, he was right there, his arms wrapped around the two of them,
 swaying with them where they stood.  She'd been lightheaded
with grief and fatigue, and it had felt like the room was
spinning.  She knew when it stopped, her world would fly apart.

She never thought they'd be separated by choice, even a choice
necessitated by someone else.

Now, Mulder blew out all but one lamp and stripped down to his
tee shirt and boxers, still behaving as if Scully wasn't in the
room with him.  When he'd settled himself on his makeshift bed,
he looked up at Scully again.

She was still huddled under the blanket and she couldn't suppress
a shiver.

"Are you cold?"  he asked.

"No," she shook her head, biting her bottom lip.  She couldn't
bring herself to ask if she could sleep with him, as much as she
wanted the comfort of his nearness.

"Come here, Scully," he said quietly, not commanding but not
asking, either, leaving it entirely up to her.

She went.  Mulder held the blanket up and she crawled next to
him.  As soon as she lay down, Mulder put his arm around her,
pulling her back against his chest, his arm across her middle.
"Better?"  he whispered.

Scully nodded, feeling his lips against her hair.  She let
herself relax against him.  She lay quietly against him.  He
rubbed his cheek against her hair.  The arm draped over her
moved a little higher, his hand seeking hers.  Their fingers
twined together, and she felt his lips on her cheek.

She thought of yet another goodbye, the last night they spent
together in Oregon before he was taken.  It was another night
when they cuddled close, unwilling to discuss the subject Mulder
had brought up, separated by their individual fears.  She had
felt too ill, and Mulder too worried, to do more than hold each
other.

If this was going to be goodbye again, at least this time it
would be a proper goodbye.  She would see to it.

Scully turned in Mulder's embrace and kissed him on the lips,
taking her time over him, nibbling and pulling at his lower lip
until he opened up and kissed her back, meeting her hunger with
his own.

"Make love to me, Mulder," she whispered.  She felt his jolt of
surprise and he pulled away a little, holding her face between his
two hands and looking at her closely in the dimness, as if gauging
her sincerity.

"Yes," she said, answering the unasked question.  "Please."

Mulder bent to kiss her again, his lips warm and moist already
from her touch.  She felt his tongue smooth over her lips, teasing
and tasting until she beckoned him further in.  She lay back on
the blanket, her head cradled in the crook of his arm as his other
hand moved underneath her tee shirt, circling her skin just below
her breasts.

He undressed her slowly, almost reverently, taking time to kiss
and reacquaint himself with her body as he did so.  She closed
her eyes and savored the feel of his hands on her bare skin.
She gasped when he touched her breasts for the first time.

Mulder stopped, an anxious expression on his face.  "Did I hurt
you?  Are you okay?"

Scully nodded, biting her lips.  Her reaction had been unguarded
and unexpected.  She was more sensitive than she realized.

After a moment, Mulder kissed her on the mouth, and slowly
worked his way from there down her throat and to her shoulder,
collarbone, and the upper slope of her breast.  He kissed each
breast tenderly, touching them only with his mouth, letting his
hand stroke softly down her arm and her side instead.

She was trembling with anticipation when she finally felt his
mouth close gently around one nipple.  She gasped again, and
arched into him, unable to stay still.

This time when he stopped, he smiled at her, and she smiled
back.  "Okay?"  he asked gently.

"Okay," she smiled back.

He went back to his gentle caresses and Scully closed her eyes
again, letting the sensations wash over her.  It was like a
dream, like too many dreams where Mulder made love to her.
The only way to make it real was to reciprocate.

She stopped him again, but his puzzlement turned immediately to
understanding as she grasped the hem of his tee shirt and pulled
it over his head.  Now she could let her hands roam over his
warm and golden body, listening to his breathing change cadence
as she found remembered sensitive spots.

There was no more speaking.  They allowed their mouths to speak
through action instead, and the only sounds now were inarticulate
whispers and sighs.  Still facing each other, Mulder ran his hand
down Scully's leg and pulled it over his flank.  She moved herself
closer to him, reaching down to guide him into her.  The position
seemed strange but somehow appropriate for them.  They might do
things the hard way, but they did them together.  Side by side.

They held onto each other and slowly arched together and apart,
together and apart, kissing and nuzzling.  It was as soft and
slow and gentle as Mulder had been before.  Scully relished
every moment, pressing tightly against him, holding him close
to her before allowing him to slide away again.

Though they didn't speak, words formed a rhythm in Scully's head.
This can't be goodbye, she told herself, it can't.  It can't.
It can't.

Finally Mulder pulled Scully completely on top of him and gripped
her close as he began to lose control, and the change in position
was enough to make her lose it, too.  She collapsed on his chest
as he shuddered and pulsed and finally was still.

It was a few moments before she realized Mulder was saying
something, stroking her hair gently.  She raised her head and
looked up at him.

"Love you," he whispered.  "Missed you so much, Scully."

She kissed his chest.  "You too, Mulder.  More than I could
ever tell you."

x-x-x-x

Light streamed in the uncurtained windows when Scully woke up.
Mulder was sitting cross-legged next to her, holding a mug of
coffee.

"Morning, Sunshine," he said.  "Sleep well?"

She sat up and reached out her hand to caress his cheek.  "Better
than I have for a long time."

"There are those who say strenuous exercise before bed is not a
good idea," Mulder said.  "I'm not one of them."  He gave her a
leering look that reminded her of days gone by.

Then, she remembered where she was and what lay ahead.

She sipped the coffee Mulder handed her.  It was strong and
bitter.

"This is it, Scully,"  he said.  "The point of no return.
You've got to leave soon to get back in time to check out and
catch your flight, if you're going."

"I'm not, Mulder," she said.  "I've made up my mind.  I'll take
what comes, as long as it's with you."

"You sure?"  He asked.  "Even without William?"

"Are you telling me that there's no hope, Mulder?  That we'll
never get him back?"

Mulder looked torn.  "I -- no, Scully.  I just don't want you
to have expectations of something that might not happen."

"Mulder, yesterday I woke up completely alone.  Today, I woke
up with you.  I had no expectation of that happening.  In my
book, that's cause for hope.  Maybe together we have more hope
than apart."

"I like the way you think, Agent Scully," Mulder said.

"You said it yourself yesterday, Mulder.  We have to keep hoping.
It's better than the alternative."

"I just want you to be clear," Mulder said.  "We're going to have
to disappear completely.  No getting in touch with your mom to let
her know you're okay, no going back to DC or even to Denver to get
anything you've left behind."

"Everything I've left behind is replaceable,"  Scully said.  "But
you're not."

Mulder smiled.  "The feeling's mutual, Scully.  Anyway, I'm not
entirely without resources.  We can get you whatever you need in
the way of clothing and necessities.  Though I kind of like what
you're wearing right now."  He leaned closer and kissed her, and
it was different from any kiss they'd shared before.  This was a
kiss of welcome, of promise, of a future shared.

"You better get dressed," he murmured against her mouth.  "Or we
might have to stay here a while longer."

Mulder had thoughtfully left her some hot water and she washed
as best she could while he packed up his bags and cleaned up
any evidence of their habitation.

Scully looked outside and saw that Mulder had brought around an
old pickup with a camper shell on the back.

"What are we going to do about the rental car?"  Scully asked.

"I hid it in the barn last night, and I don't think anyone will
find it for some time," Mulder said.  "This place doesn't get
used much, and even if it is found, I don't think they'll be
able to trace it back to you.  It was rented under another name
entirely.  I don't think anyone will know you're missing until
you don't show up back in DC in a day or two."

"How is that possible?"  Scully said.

"We got you checked out of the hotel, and onto your flight.  For
all intents and purposes, you disappeared after you landed in
Salt Lake City."

"Mulder..."  Scully began to understand something.

Mulder tried to give her an innocent look but she wasn't buying
it.

"You planned for me to disappear all along, didn't you?"

He looked a little sheepish.  "Well, it was one scenario we
talked about.  But I wanted it to be your decision."

"So you let me argue with you, and practically seduce you, when
you intended this all along?"

"Plausible deniability, Scully.  I could always say you seduced
me into agreeing, if that's what you're asking."  He paused, and
when Scully didn't reply, he added,  "That *is* what you're asking,
isn't it?"

Scully gave Mulder a very small smile.  "I think it's a moot
point, Mulder.  And who's `we,' by the way?  You and Skinner?"

Mulder just smiled.  "Are you ready?  We have a lot of ground to
cover today.  Here, put this on."  He handed her a worn denim
jacket.  "That'll do until we can get you some different clothes."

Scully turned back and looked at the little cabin as she got into
the truck cab.  For such an insignificant place, it now held a
good deal of meaning for her.  Not everyone could point to a
time or place where they could say, "Here is where my life
changed."  Scully could count several such events in her lifetime,
and she could scroll them like a slide show.  The analogy made
her smile a little; the first time she met Mulder was one such
time and place, and almost the first thing he did was give her
a slide show.  Little did she know at the time what that day
portended for them both.

"Scully, you ready?"  Mulder called from inside the truck.
"Burnin' daylight."

No turning back, Mulder had said to her that morning.  She'd
well and truly burned her bridges this time.

"I'm ready, Mulder," Scully said, and as she had since she'd
met him, she followed Mulder into the unknown.

end.

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