By Penny Daza
majick@webquest.com
 

DATE:  Thu,  7 May 98
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere, knock yourself out.  Just keep my name on
it.  :-)
SPOILER WARNING: Various mentions from season 1 to 5.
RATING: R for language and adult situations
CLASSIFICATION: S, A
SUMMARY:  Mulder becomes Fox.  It's a journey that he and Scully could not
have ever prepared for.
DISCLAIMER: All characters are property of his royal highness, Chris Carter
and the Fox Network.  And to David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson who gave
Mulder and Scully their hearts and souls.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks to Eric, otherwise known as Fetch for being the best
dang EMT there is.
 

Some of you may recognize the title as the sequel to my short piece
entitled "Sleeptalking".  This work is in no way related to that short
two-parter, but a few days after I released it, got myself mulling over the
title and this is what I ended up churning out.
 

FEEDBACK: Welcomed.  Flames too, but be gentle.
 
 
 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------
I Have Known A Boy Named Fox, and A Man Named Mulder
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------
 
 

Week 1
3, 4, 5.
-------------
Monday
-------------
 

She watched as the little boy played with the toys she'd bought at Toys 'R Us.
 

His little hands worked frantically, putting together the Lego blocks, and
his brows were knitted together in rapt concentration.
 

Scully had dressed him in little denim shorts, a red and orange striped tee
shirt, and little Nike rubber shoes after a relatively  uneventful bath
coming from the store.  He'd blown bubbles in the tub, but was surprisingly
well behaved, choosing to pretend the bath sponge was a dinosaur and
Scully's hands were cavemen deserving to be chased and eaten.
 

She had thought he'd put up a fuss when she told him it was time to get
out, but he had looked at his fingers and held them up and said, "Yup.  I'm
already wrinkly."
 

For now, the little boy was much too engrossed with building a city with
the blocks in front of him to notice Scully's silent observation.  In a
while, he would get hungry, and no doubt ask for pizza or burgers, to which
she would of course relent.
 

He had woken up bright and early at 6 AM, rolled over to her side of the
bed and nudged her arm with his chin.  When she had slowly opened her eyes
and given him a warm smile and "Good morning," he grinned and said "Good
morning, too, Dana," and asked for pancakes.
 

Before she could even swing her legs to the side of the bed, he scampered
over her and pinned her down and tried to tickle her and she had tickled
him back, and playfully bit into his chubby arms to which he squealed in
absolute delight.
 

He surrendered and put his hands over his head and whispered, "I surrender"
and when she relented, he puckered up his lips and made her kiss him
soundly on the lips, trapping her face between his tiny hands to give him
several more.
 

"Come on then, you rascal!" she laughed, hauling him out of bed and into
her arms.  "Let's go see what we can do about those pancakes."
 

He played with her hair while she walked them to the kitchen, then tucked
his face into the crook of her neck and put up a token fight when she put
him down.
 

He drowned his pancakes in syrup, made a mess of his face, and stole her
strawberries when she stood up to fetch him a tissue.
 

Scully gave him a stern look as he shuffled his feet and twisted his hands
behind him, not being able to quite meet her eyes.
 

She shook her head, deciding he was contrite enough and squatted to his
level, taking him in her arms.  "What am I going to do with you, Fox Mulder?"
 
 

-----------------------
4 Days Earlier
-----------------------
 

Mulder was having the quintessential bad day.  He'd woken up with a
pounding headache, which was in no way relieved after having swallowed half
a bottle of aspirin.  To make matters worse, his paranoia was acting up
something fierce again, the feeling that someone was watching him in his
own apartment growing stronger with every breath he took.
 

He'd pulled his weapon out, checked the rooms, vents and closets and found
no one and nothing out of the ordinary, but he still couldn't shake the
feeling.
 

Driving to the Bureau, he kept checking his rear-view mirror, and took
several unnecessary turns to shake off any phantom tails.  A feat,
considering every turn seemed to make his stomach do flip-flops.
 

Scully had given him a look when he walked in 20 minutes late, but turned
from pissed to concerned after seeing the pallor of his face.
 

"Mulder?  You okay?" she asked, standing up and walking over to him.
 

He sat down, buried his head in his hands and looked up at her.  "Ever get
the feeling you're being watched, Scully?"
 

She sat on the edge of his desk and peered at him.  "Only since I started
working with you, Mulder," she quipped.  Her humor faltered however, when
his pupils caught her medical eye's attention.  A skilled hand reached out
to check them.  "But paranoia wouldn't dilate your pupils that much,
Mulder.  What's wrong?"
 

He groaned and let her continue examine him.  "I don't know, but I woke up
with a pounding headache today.  And yes, I already took some aspirin -
half a bottle - didn't do any good."
 

Scully felt his forehead.  "You're not running a fever.  How did you sleep
last night?"
 

"Same old same old," he replied.
 

Standing up, she walked over to one of their file cabinets and pulled out a
small flashlight.  "Any nausea, Mulder?  Dizzy spells, black-outs?"
 

"Yeah, dizzy on my .. way . " he stopped cold and swayed, and suddenly
collapsed to the floor.
 

Scully jumped, barely making it in time to catch him before his head hit
the ground.  Frantically, she reached for the phone and dialed 911.
 

"This is Special Agent Dana Scully.  I need an ambulance RIGHT NOW at the
J. Edgar  Hoover Building!"
 
 
 

The ride to the hospital seemed to last an eternity.  Mulder had been
loaded into the ambulance, Scully running along side the stretcher, making
sure the EMTs did everything they were supposed to and more.
 

Once they got there, it took Skinner about 10 minutes to follow, but 45
minutes to find out what the hell was going on.  He was finally led into a
waiting room, and informed that Agent Scully was waiting for him, and would
be called to alert her of his presence.
 

Five minutes later, Scully walked in, and judging from the pained and
worried expression on her face, Skinner knew the news would not be good.
 

"What happened to Agent Mulder?" he asked her.
 

Scully crossed her arms over her chest.  "He keeled over and blacked out at
the office, sir.  After complaining about some dizziness and paranoia. The
doctors haven't found any physical injuries, but the blood work is on the
way."
 

Skinner nodded.  "Do you think it has anything to do with the case you're
working on?"
 

"I highly doubt it, sir.  It's just some grunt work the VCS is asking
Mulder and myself to help out with."
 

Skinner was just about to offer her a cup of coffee when a nurse burst into
the waiting room, her hands waving frantically in the air.  "Dr. Scully!!
You must come immediately!!"
 

The sheer panic in her voice sent Skinner and Scully running down the
corridor where the nurse lead the way, and into Mulder's room.
 

He was writhing in bed, but still unconscious, his entire body wet with
perspiration but he looked different, somehow.  She and Skinner did a quick
double take.
 

Mulder looked younger.  A LOT younger.
 

Three doctors stood helplessly on the sidelines, watching instead the
phenomenon unfolding before them.  Scully yelled at them, "What the HELL is
happening to him?!"
 

A doctor moved forward to calm her, but she would have none of it.
Forcefully, she pushed him aside and rushed to Mulder's bedside.  Her hands
cupped his face, and to her amazement, the wrinkles around his eyes
vanished, his skin softened, and dear god.. she felt the bones beneath her
fingers constrict and dwindle in size.
 

"Oh god, Mulder!" With horrified eyes, Scully cast her gaze down and saw
Mulder's torso following suit.  His chest shrunk, his arms shortened, and
body hair disappeared altogether.
 

In 7 minutes and 34 seconds, a three-year-old little boy opened his eyes
and sat up.  "Mom?"
 

The room went silent.
 

"This," Skinner managed to choke out.  "Must be the mother of all X-Files."
 
 
 
 

Scully and Skinner were speaking in hushed tones.  Mulder, and that's who
he really was, said the blood tests, was asleep in bed after a crying fit
full of wails and screams that exhausted him.
 

Scully, after recovering from the intense shock, sat in bed beside him and
gathered him close, rubbing his back gently till the fit subsided.  Mulder
had bucked and resisted forcefully, wailing for his mother, and it took
every ounce of strength and endurance on Scully's part to quiet him down.
 

The suit he'd been wearing was stripped off, his instantly shrinking
anatomy practically swimming in it.   One of the nurses had been kind
enough to run off to a nearby mall to purchase briefs, shorts and a tee
shirt for him on her coffee break.
 

"I'm trying my best to come to terms with what I just saw," muttered Skinner.
 

Scully could only manage a nod of agreement.
 

Mulder's blood tests had come shortly after he fell asleep, and Scully had
quickly reviewed them.
 

"High levels of dehydroepiandrosterone, superoxide dismutase and
aminoguanidine."
 

"I won't even try to pronounce that again, Agent Scully.  Do you know what
they are?"
 

"Controversial anti-aging chemicals, sir.  But all three have more or less
been declared by the medical field to be bogus and incapable of halting
aging, much less reverse it altogether at such an amazing speed."
 

"More or less?  So there's room for doubt." asked Skinner.
 

Scully perused the files again.  "Another substance was found in his blood
stream."  She licked her lips and frowned.  "Of course, it's unidentifiable."
 

Skinner sighed in exasperation.  "If whatever's in his bloodstream is
responsible for. THIS," he said.  "What prevented it from going any further?"
 

"I have no idea, sir. "
 

They heard a stir as Mulder woke up.  He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes,
confused at the unfamiliar surroundings.  "Where's mom?" he asked, his
voice shaking.
 

Scully sat beside him and brushed away the tear that had just dropped down
his cheek.  "Fox?  I want you to calm down and listen to me, okay?  My name
is Dana, and I'm here to take care of you."
 

"Where's mom?" he asked again, this time with his lower lip quivering.
 

"Shhh.  It's okay, Fox.  Your mom and dad, they went away for awhile and
asked me to take care of you."
 

"Where are they and how come I'm in the hospital?"
 

Scully thought fast.  "They're at Quonochontaug.  They couldn't take you
with them because you were too sick to travel.  That's why you're here."
 

"I'm sick again?" he asked.
 

"No," Scully assured him.  "You're fine now.  No more fever.  How are you
feeling?"
 

"Okay, I guess.  You're my new babysitter?"
 

The question startled Scully.  What had she gotten herself into?
 

"Yes, she is," gruffly replied Skinner.  He walked over to Mulder and
ruffled his hair.  "My name's Walter Skinner, F-F-Fox," he stammered.
"Dana will be taking care of you for awhile, just till your parents are
back from their business at Quonochontaug, okay?"
 

For a minute there, it looked like Fox would start crying all over again,
and Scully and Skinner waited with bated breath for his reaction.
 

He stuck a thumb into his mouth and lay back down, closing his eyes and
yawning around the digit.
 

Scully and Skinner sighed with relief.
 
 
 

Scully made arrangements with a private medical facility that she forwarded
Mulder's blood tests to.  She would send them a blood sample every other
day, and they would fax her back the results.  The pattern was agreed on
after a rather lengthy discussion with Fox who apparently, was not afraid
of needles or blood, but appeared to detest sitting still for more than 1
minute.
 

He was quiet in the car going to her apartment, clutching at a little teddy
bear that Scully had brought over for him, and his nose was pressed against
the window for most of the ride.
 

She was certain he wanted to ask questions but was still a little shy, by
the way his eyes darted from his window to hers to the back of the car.  It
seemed as though everything that surrounded him was awesome to his young eyes.
 
 

Back to Present Day
-------------
Tuesday
-------------
 
 

For one reason or another, Margaret Scully treated Mulder like her own
grandchild.
 

When Scully had called her up and told her "Mom, I need your help.
Mulder's become a child again," Margaret responded by saying "All men are
childish, darling."
 

Then Scully said, "No mom, Mulder's become a kid.  He's three years old
again."
 

"Your father could become a two-year old at the drop of a pin, honey."
 

"Mom!  Something happened to Mulder physically and he's now a child of
three years old.  He's become an X-File!"
 

So Margaret rushed right over to see it with her own two eyes.  When she
knocked on her daughter's door, the authenticity of what Dana had said
began to sink in.  She could hear a distinctive child's voice, and her
daughter responding with a murmur followed by "Fox."
 

When she entered the apartment, she saw a little boy dressed in blue jeans
and a forest-green shirt scamper  behind Dana's legs, clutching at her
pants when Margaret walked in.
 

"Fox, this is my mother, Margaret.  Say hi," she encouraged.
 

Fox peered from his hiding place to look up at Margaret. "'Ello."
 

Margaret's eyes lit up when she saw him.  She held her hand out and smiled
at him warmly, gently pulling him from behind Dana's legs.
 

"Hello, Fox.  I'm glad to meet you."
 

Margaret, the epitome of a good mother, came prepared.  She remembered Dana
mentioning that Fox was an avid sports fan, and after a short rummage
through her purse, produced a brand-new baseball to the awestruck youngster.
 

Fox looked at Dana a moment, then at Margaret, then back to Dana.  She
smiled and nudged him forward, letting him know he could take it.
 

He took a few hesitant steps forward and held his hand out, and Margaret
squatted to his level and asked for a kiss in return.  He smacked her
soundly on the lips, the art of humoring adults with his pecks already
mastered because of Dana.  For good measure, he threw his arms around her
neck and hugged her tight too.
 

"Oof!," Margaret said dramatically.  "What a strong boy you are!  Those
arms are really for pitching this ball around, huh?"
 

He nodded vigorously and took it, scampering off before Scully could even
yell, "Not in the house, Fox!!"
 

Coming to a full stop he turned, gave her a look that could melt stone and
shuffled his feet.
 

Scully sighed.  She knew it was a losing battle.  "Pitch it into the bed
but be careful, deal?"
 

He grinned and nodded then went off to her bedroom, where mother and
daughter heard little 'whumps'.
 

"He looks just like Fox," wondered Margaret.
 

"He IS Mulder, mom."
 

"I know, honey. but it's still so hard to take in all at once.  Even if I
see the remarkable resemblance - it's amazing, really.  To see Fox like
this." She glanced at her daughter and added,  "You haven't been calling
him Mulder, have you dear?"
 

A small laugh escaped from her lips.  "Of course not, mom.  But I know what
you mean.  It was worse for me, imagine when I had to come to terms with
Mulder sleeping beside me in my bed and Mulder needing me to help him with
his bath."
 

"He's adorable, isn't he?"
 

Scully smiled.  "Yes.  Nothing like the holy terror I know from work."
 

"How have both of you been holding up?"
 

"We're doing fine, so far. He looked for his mother and father but didn't
cry when I told him they were on vacation and left him to me."
 

Margaret looked at her daughter.
 

"I guess he was used to being left alone," Dana sadly observed.  "Mom, I
need to get him some new things, he outgrows his clothes in two days' time.
Could you watch over him for about an hour, or would you rather come along
and all three of us go together? "
 

Fox came skipping out of the bedroom, clutching his prized new-toy in his
tiny hands and jumped into Dana's lap.  "It's cool!" he declared, holding
the ball up to her face.
 

Margaret looked at the boy.  Already, she was madly in love with him.  "I'm
in the mood for spoiling someone," she grinned.  She extended her hand to
Fox, who took it unhesitatingly.  "And when I say spoiling someone, I mean
YOU, sweety!" she laughed.
 

Scully, Margaret and Fox headed for the mall.  While Dana busied herself
buying him a few new clothes - shirts, pants, shorts, underwear, sneakers
-, Margaret and Fox headed for the toy department.
 

Keeping in mind that he was growing an average of 3 years per week, she was
having a hard time deciding what to get him.  A toy that he wouldn't lose
interest in for at least 2 weeks, she was hoping.  The baseball she'd given
him was a good idea, but after that, nothing else came to mind.
 

A loud noise from the corner of the store caught her attention.  She took
Fox's hand to go investigate, and saw a group of boys from ages 5 to 17,
huddled around a large TV screen.  Two of the boys had game pads in their
hands, their shoulders wildly tossing in the air as they fought with each
other via the computer images being generated on the monitor.
 

Other little monitors were beside it, and on them games for the younger
group were being displayed.  Margaret walked over to the clerk.  "Excuse
me, what is that contraption those boys are playing with?" she asked.
 

The clerk brought out a unit from the shelf beneath him.  "It's a Sony
Playstation, ma'am.  It plays video games."
 

Margaret looked at the thing, then at Fox.  "Have you got any games for his
age?  Something he won't tire of in two weeks because he's agi - .
something for his older brothers?"
 

Batches of boxes were produced.  "These are all the games available for
this.  You'll find a good variety for all age groups.  Kids in pre-school
to college boys and even working professionals come here all the time to
buy games."
 

She looked them over and passed a box to Fox.  He stared at it
inquisitively, then shook it.  "What's inside?" he asked.
 

The clerk answered.  "It's a CD-ROM.  That's what goes into the Playstation."
 

"Okay," Margaret smiled.  "We'll take a unit, and give me five of your most
popular games."
 
 

When Dana saw her mother 45 minutes later with a huge plastic bag, and Fox
busily licking at a three-story high ice cream cone, the word 'spoiling'
seemed to be a gross understatement.
 

Margaret smiled sheepishly at her daughter.  "We got a little carried away."
 

Dana smirked and ruffled Fox's hair.  "What'd you get?"
 

"Sumpin' cawwed a Pwaystation," he murmured, his mouth too full of ice
cream to answer understandably.  "And gramma bought me lotsa games too."
 

"Gramma?" asked Scully.
 

"Well I couldn't let him call me Margaret, could I dear?  And he has a hard
time saying Scully," she answered defensively.
 

Scully gave her mother a look.  Margaret looked away.  Fox looked up at the
two of them and tugged on Scully's sleeve, excited about his new toy.  "Can
we go home?"
 
 
 

Margaret was no help whatsoever setting up the Playstation.  Scully just
managed to understand the operating instructions, and in the nick of time
too.  Fox had finished his plate of spaghetti and was getting restless.
 

He plopped himself in front of the TV and let Scully load a game in, then
show him more or less how to use the controls.  Like all children, he
quickly adapted to the computer game and immersed himself in it, oblivious
to the rest of the world momentarily.
 

Margaret and Dana started on dinner, the perfect time for Margaret to give
Dana a few do's and don'ts about child rearing.  DO always say, "I love
you".  DON'T make him feel like a burden.  DO be tactile.  DON'T tell him
to stop being a baby.  DO give in to the occasional spoil.  And DON'T call
him Mulder.
 

-----------------
Wednesday
-----------------
 

Skinner came for a visit to check on Scully and Mulder.
 

<FOX.  FOX, not Mulder, for chrissake.  Remember that when you walk in.
Don't want the kid to wonder about you now, do we?>
 

He knocked on the door to her apartment, hearing a child squealing with
glee and a laugh full of mirth from behind.  Thumping sounds, as though a
chase were on, and finally a "Who is it?"
 

"It's me, Agent Scully."
 

The door opened, and there stood Scully, the widest smile he had ever seen
on her face, hair a mess and hyperventilating.
 

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked.
 

Scully sidestepped and let Skinner move past her, then shut the door.  "No
sir.  Just a healthy game of hide and seek."
 

Skinner looked around.  He saw Fox hiding from behind the couch, both hands
braced over the edge of the backrest, just his forehead and eyes peeking
out.  He smiled at Fox and gave him a little salute.
 

"Fox, time out!" Dana called.  "Remember Mr. Skinner from the hospital?
Say hi."
 

Fox stepped out and shyly approached him.  "Hello."
 

"Hello, Fox.  Who's winning the game?"
 

"Me," he answered with conviction.  He walked over to Dana and tugged on
her hand, silently asking to be carried.
 

She bent down and hoisted him up, then deposited him in front of the TV and
turned his Playstation on.  She would have to remember to bring her mother
out to a nice restaurant for the blessed gift that served so many purposes.
"What do you feel like playing, Fox?" she asked him.
 

"Hermie the Hopperhead, please."
 

She loaded the CD-ROM in and turned up the volume, then handed him a
control pad and kissed his cheek.  "Mr. Skinner and I are going to talk for
awhile.  Think you can give us a few minutes?"
 

He nodded obediently.
 

Scully walked back to the dining area where Skinner had already taken a seat.
 

"Anything enlightening happen, Scully?" he asked.
 

<I'm ready for motherhood!!> she wanted to scream.   "He seems to remember
bits and pieces of Mulder's past. he's asked for his mother, and father.
He knows were he lives, what his favorite food and color is, and the usual
cacophony of a normal 3 or 4 year-olds existence."
 

"So he hasn't asked about Samantha?"
 

"No.  He did ask me where his favorite red shirt was, and why he didn't
have to go to school.  He's got Mulder's memories, of course.  He IS Mulder
after all.  But the memories come back to him to coincide with his progress
into aging.  He'll be remembering Samantha anytime now."
 

"And he won't remember you till he's 31."
 

She nodded grimly.
 

"How fast is he aging?"
 

"Yesterday I asked him how old he was, and he was still 3.  This morning he
was four."
 

"And Friday he was also three, so he ages one year every three days?"
 

Scully nodded.  "So far, that seems to be the trend."
 

Skinner watched as Fox's shoulders swung violently in the air as he played
with his video game.  "Has he been giving you any trouble?" he asked.
 

She shook her head and smiled, eyes closing momentarily as the last few
days were remembered.  "No, he's actually pretty well behaved.  I think his
parents were strict with him behaviorally, but it doesn't stop him from
being incredibly driven to drive me crazy with his manipulative and sneaky
tactics."
 

"Now you can relate to what I go through," Skinner grinned.
 

She laughed heartily, fully understanding what he meant.
 

He watched her observe him for awhile, then let his eyes wander over the
apartment.  Various toys and books were scattered around. Tiny blue
sneakers  with their laces undone near the sofa, a small denim jacket over
the backrest of one of the chairs, an overturned red truck near the TV.
 

"Are you sure you can handle this, Agent Scully?" asked Skinner seriously,
lowering his voice a decibel so that Fox wouldn't hear.  "I'm sure we can
find someone or someplace.equipped to handle this kind of situation."
 

Scully raised her eyebrow a notch.
 

Skinner flushed.  "I know.  That's like saying I can find a needle in a
haystack with a blindfold on."  He rubbed the back of his neck tightly.
"What about his mother?"
 

"Unreachable.  Her housekeeper says she left two weeks ago for Europe, but
didn't leave a number where she could be contacted, or when she was coming
back."
 

"Three years a week.  So he'll be the old Mulder before all this happened
in about 11 weeks?"
 

"Most likely.  Hopefully.  With fingers crossed."
 

"I think you can take a leave of absence in that time, Agent Scully.
Unofficially, of course.  I'm sure no one would question you're
investigating an X-File.  This appears to be an X-Files archetype, if I'm
not mistaken."
 

The AD inhaled deeply, and uncomfortably adjusted his jacket.  "Well then.
If you need anything Agent Scully, please don't hesitate to call.  Have you
got everything you need?"
 

She looked at Fox propped in front of the TV.  Mulder with a TV then,
Mulder with a TV now.  "Yes, sir.  I think we'll be fine."
 

"All right then.  I'll leave you two and give you a call later in the
week."  Skinner called to Fox.  "See you around, sport."
 

Fox looked behind him and waved.  "See ya!"
 

After Skinner left, Scully set about making supper for both of them.  Fox
said he wanted fried chicken and fried rice.  As she heated the cooking
oil, she was able to observe him unnoticed.
 

At four, he was cherubic with his good looks.  The dark, soft hair and full
lower lip were already there, and it was just a matter of time when his
angular jaw would break through the layers of baby fat.
 

And damn it all to hell, but Scully was absolutely positive that "Who, me?"
look of Mulder was contrived and mastered at this age.
 

She plunked in the batter-covered chicken into the frying pan and winced as
the blood oozed out, and wondered if maybe she could change his eating
habits while she had the chance.  Her fridge was now stocked with soda pop
and milk, Scully having discovered that because of his new metabolism,
sugar was essential in keeping him brisk.
 

After dinner, she would be giving him his bath, then they would watch some
more TV or he would ask to be read to.  Already they were developing a
pattern that she treasured.  It was during these twilight hours when it was
only her and Fox in the whole world.  A time to bond, relish the soft
baby-smell of him, answer his inquisitive questions, cuddle him and love
him, and let him love her.
 

She should have reminded herself more often that the little boy sleeping in
her arms was not her son.  In fact, the little boy was actually her 37
year-old partner.
 

---------------
Thursday
--------------
 

At 4 AM, she felt a finger poking into her arm.
 

Scully reached out and switched a lamp on.  "Fox?  What is it?" she asked.
 

He sat cross-legged and propped his chin into his tiny palm.  "Where's
Samantha?  How come I remember mom bringing her home from the hospital, but
I'm here?"
 

Scully sat up in bed and pulled her to sit across her hips, and took his
hands in hers.  "Samantha's with your mom and dad at Quonochontaug."
 

"Why did they take her and not me?" he asked, tears threatening to fall.
 

"Sweety, remember the hospital?  You were too sick to go anywhere, and
Samantha's still a baby so she needs to always be with your mom.  Not like
the big boy that you are."
 

"But I wanted to go, Dana."
 

"I know, honey.  But it won't be good for you because you might get sick
again.  We're having fun, aren't we?" she asked, praying in her head he
wouldn't ask her to bring him to the summerhouse.
 

"Yeah.  But I miss mom.  And a little of Samantha, too."
 

She pulled on his arms and tucked him into her side, caressing his hair
comfortingly.  "I'm sure they miss you too, Fox.  But you want to know
something?" she asked.
 

He looked up at her, ready to poke his thumb into his mouth.  "What?"
 

"I'd miss you more than all of them put together if you weren't here."
 

The thumb went in, his little mouth moving as he suckled vigorously.
 

Scully watched his eyes slowly close as he drifted into delighted slumber.
 

Friday
---------
 

Fox was giggling in his sleep.  Small chuckles burrowed themselves from her
chest where his head lay, and the small puffs of air from his mouth tickled
her gently.
 

Scully put her book aside and peered at him for a better look.  His eyes
were closed, and just a hint of teeth shown through his smiling lips.  His
head would cock from side to side, and he would utter a little squeal.  "No
more, mama!  I surrender, I surrender!!"
 

She smiled down at the little boy and brushed a lock of hair back.
 

"Dana bought me Oreos today, mama.  Double-stuffed too!"  Pause.  "And she
lets me suck out the cream from the Twinkies she buys and she eats the
bread instead."
 

His tone was eager and excited, the little smile still playing on his lips.
Scully couldn't have imagined however what he did next.  His face tilted,
till his cheek rested on the joint of her shoulder and arm and bit.  Hard.
 

"Ayeeee!" she cried, barely being able to restrain herself from hurtling
herself out of the bed.  Her shriek woke him up, and he lazily sat up, his
eyelids still half-closed.  "Wassamater?" he asked.
 

Before Scully could reply, he slumped back into the mattress, grinning
happily again.  "I was dreamin' of Ho-Hos."
 
 

Week 2
6, 7, 8
-------------
Monday
-------------
 

Their days were composed of TV, movies, junk food, the park, his
Playstation, and bedtime stories.
 

Fox wasn't hard to feed, he liked eating everything that Scully cooked.  He
was short-tempered and initially hardheaded, but turned angelic after
noticing that contrary to his memories, there was someone who wanted to
shower him with love and lots of affection.
 

More importantly, she and Fox talked.  Their favorite colors, favorite
toys, favorite sports.  Then there was the more serious side of his family.
Contrary to Scully's initial understanding, Mrs. Mulder was actually very
affectionate and loving towards Fox, at least before Samantha's abduction.
Her temper was somewhat short with him, having been spoiled enough to have
a nanny to pass her son to if he was being testy or hardheaded, or needed
to get cleaned up.
 

But she had her moments too.  Fox remembered and told Scully about the
peek-a-boo game.  His mother would lay him on his back on the bed after a
bath, raise his legs and hide behind his feet.  He would hear her call out,
"Where'd mommy go?  Where'd Fox go?" and part his feet and say "Peek-a-boo,
Fox!  Here I am!" and she would laugh and he would too.
 

There were also his picture books (which he missed and Scully made a mental
note to go and buy some), and his mother would sit him on her lap and on
good days spend hours telling him what this was and what that was and what
it was for.  "This is a bus.  It brings people from one place to another.
This is a radio.  You listen to it for the news and songs.  This is a
whale, it swims in the sea.."
 

Those times, he said, were the greatest.  But mom had other moments, the
ones he didn't like too much.  She would yell at times for him to
"Behave!!" or "Not now, Fox!" or give him a painful spanking because he was
being a bad boy.
 

He liked that he could get away with murder with just one look, or one kiss
when it came to Scully.  But even more than that, the ideas that had been
in his head of being rejected, yelled at and being a nuisance were slowly
disappearing.
 

He taught her how to play Mortal Kombat and Streetfighter, and they spent 6
hours making a city called "Fox'nDana" on Sim City 2000.
 

She was fascinated at how quick and eager he was to learn, and Scully
wondered if it was an after effect of the high-metabolism or his true
nature, maybe even a combination of both.  He would recite the contents of
a book cover to cover while he was being given his bath, or reenact
dialogue from a favorite cartoon program word for word.  Some of them
actually sounded familiar to her.
 

Scully was experiencing what it was like to be a parent at the speed of
light with a few pros.  With Fox, she didn't need to teach him potty
training, language, reading or writing.  Everything would come back to him
in its own time.
 

The cons were having to come up with spur of the moment excuses for his
memories, but she was glad that he was a precocious child.  Within the
week, she promised herself to try explaining to him what was going on.
 

Margaret came over frequently to fawn over him.
 

"You're spoiling him rotten," Dana chided, after seeing the new bag of
CD-ROMS she bought for his Playstation and the PC.
 

"I'm entitled," Margaret defended.  "No grandsons yet."
 

She and Skinner had a long talk about damage control.  It would be better
if he didn't interact with other children, of course.  Too many questions,
not enough answers that could be understood by a boy his age.  Not that
anyone older would understand much of it anyway.
 

They both filed carefully worded and creatively constructed paperwork to
explain why she and Mulder would be gone for eleven weeks or so, and the
staff at the hospital who had seen what had happened were briefed and sworn
to secrecy.
 

The nurses had been easier to talk to, not having seen much but the three
doctors who had witnessed Mulder's regression back to childhood had been
much more stubborn.  After a one-on-one talking-to with Skinner however, in
the FBI's interrogation room no less, they finally relented and agreed not
to tell anyone of the incident.
 

Explaining to Fox what was happening was the most difficult thing of all,
however.  Sunday night, they were working on their Fox'nDana city when she
decided she had to bite the bullet and get it out of her system.  It was
like keeping a terrible secret, always niggling at the back of her mind.
 

She would tell him what she felt he would understand now, and the rest as
time passed.
 

She watched him cross-legged on the floor, his mouth slightly open as he
scattered fire stations over their city.
 

For the nth time since this whole thing started, Scully had been constantly
astonished and amazed at herself and Fox.  The way children adapted to
situations was never short of amazing to her, and Fox was adapting
extremely well.
 

They had ridden out a fair amount of the bizarre and unexplainable during
the course of their partnership together.  Their dependence over the other
surpassed any other she had known, read or heard about in her years.  Now
was the time to test if their partnership could transcend even the barriers
of time.
 

"Fox?  Come over here on Dana's lap for a bit, would you?" she asked.
 

He saved his game and scrambled to the sofa, leaning against her.  "Yup?"
 

Scully put her arm around his shoulders and kissed the top of his head.
"Have you. noticed that maybe you're different from other boys?"
 

"Different?" he asked, his facial expression becoming suddenly worried.
 

"Don't be worried, honey.  Not different in a bad way.  Remember the
hospital?"
 

He nodded.
 

"You're growing faster than most boys are, Fox.  Did you notice that?"
 

Another nod.  "That's why you're always buying me clothes."
 

"Right.  There's a tiny boo-boo in your blood right now, but it's going
away and soon you won't be any different at all from other boys."
 

"It's weird, Dana.  I know there's something different, but I don't feel
different.  I can't even feel the boo-boo."
 

Blessed relief.  "That's good, honey."
 

"But-" he interrupted.
 

Oh god, here it comes.  "Yes?"
 

"How come I remember a lot of stuff that happens that couldn't have
happened because I'm here with you?  Like Samantha. I remember playing with
her and I remember we had her first birthday and I fell and dad called me
clumsy."  He looked up at her expectantly.
 

"Those memories all really happened, sweety.  But they happened a different
time from when you remember them.  As you become a bigger boy, you'll learn
a lot about how things work."  She looked him straight in the eye and
smiled warmly.  "And you'll learn it quick because you're such a smart boy."
 

"How smart?" he asked, smiling back, knowing it was game time.
 

"Smarter than a Fox."
 

"That's not much smart," he protested.
 

"Smarter than a dolphin?"
 

"Nope."
 

"Smarter than Einstein."
 

"Whozzat?"
 

"A very smart man."
 

"How smart?"
 

"Lots smart."
 

"Smarter than you?" he asked.
 

"Yup."
 

"So you're saying I'll be smarter than you?" he fished.
 

Scully pinned him to the sofa and started tickling him.  "Don't push your
luck, you rascal!!"
 

She tickled him mercilessly till he was red in the face and shouting "I
surrender!  I surrender!!!"
 

------------
Tuesday
------------
 

Fox was being an absolute horror, downright hardheaded and mischievous.
Scully was ready to throw in the towel and leave him on Skinner's doorstep,
or her mother's instead, but they both knew where she lived anyway.
 

For a sick minute, she thought of killing two birds with one stone and
dropping him off at her brother Bill's.  <Sweet, sweet revenge.>
 

Already there was grape juice on her sofa, a toothbrush down the toilet,
eight pop tarts whose filling had been sucked out, and a tent made of
curtains in the living room.
 

The day had started out nicely enough.  She had woken up with Fox splayed
over her, his teddy bear between them, one of his legs across her hips.  A
peck on his cheek woke him up, and he stretched lazily before scampering to
the bathroom to brush his teeth.
 

>From there, everything went downhill.  He whined about everything and threw
three temper tantrums that left Scully's eardrums ringing.  He complained
about breakfast, lunch, his afternoon snack and dinner.  He demanded to see
Gramma, and when Scully told him she was out of the house with friends, he
roared in absolute disapproval.
 

His routine blood test, which had been pretty easy to give him for the last
several days, tested the absolute limits of her patience.   Her lancet pen,
which was used to extract his blood, had 'mysteriously' disappeared when
she went to answer the phone.
 

At 8 PM, God finally gave her a break.  Margaret called to say hi.
 

Scully dumped all her anxiety on her, pleading for the secret and magical
solution that only mothers would know.  Margaret was laughing hysterically
at Fox's antics, and was touched in a warped way when her daughter told her
the worst fit was when he found out she wouldn't be coming over.
 

"He's being a boy his age, Dana.  There's nothing you can do but ride it out."
 

Scully took to whining.  "But mom!!  There has to be SOMETHING I can do,
he's driving me insane!"
 

"Give the phone to him," Margaret said.  She heard Dana call him, and pass
the phone.
 

"Hello?"
 

"Fox, it's gramma," Margaret said in her most authoritative voice.  "I hear
you're being mischievous today."
 

No answer.
 

"Dana's very worried about you.  Is there something wrong you want to tell
just me?  It can be our secret."
 

'No," he murmured.
 

"Then what's wrong?"
 

"I dunno," he answered honestly.
 

Margaret knew he was telling the truth.  "There are just sometimes when you
feel like you want to fight with the world, huh, sweety?"
 

"Yeah."
 

"Okay then, Fox.  Dana and I know what you're going through.  But try to
let Dana know it isn't her fault, okay?  She's really worried about you."
 

"She is?" he asked, his voice containing shreds of guilt.
 

"Yes, just give her a hug.  You don't have to say sorry or anything if you
don't feel like it.  Can you do that for me, hon?" she asked.
 

Scully observed Fox nod his head and murmur yes into the phone.  He hung up
and kept his eyes glued to the floor.  "'M sorry."
 

My mother the superhero, thought Scully.  She knelt down and opened her
arms to him, where he went slowly, but willingly.  "It's okay, Fox.  I love
you.  You know that, right?"
 

Scully could've sworn she saw his eyes water just a diminutive bit, but
didn't get a chance to investigate.  His head was buried in the crook of
her neck and he was fastened to her tightly.
 

Wednesday
----------------
 

Scully had just come out of a hot shower, dressed in her panties and a bra.
She was certain she had locked the door and was busily searching for a
pair of jeans to wear when she heard "Wassat on your back, Dana?" and she
whirled around to see Fox pointing at her tattoo.
 

How he managed to sneak into a locked room noiselessly would forever be a
mystery to her.  "Um, it's a tattoo, sweety."
 

"What's a tattoo?  And it looks like a snake to me."
 

"It is.  It's a tattoo of a snake eating it's tail."
 

"Yuck," he replied, but moved closer for a better look.  His index finger
reached out, following the pattern.  "What's it made of?"
 

"Paint made for the skin, so it doesn't wash off."
 

"You mean it's there forever?" he asked, eyes widening.
 

"Yes," she answered, mortification that MULDER would remember this later on
sinking in.  "Well, actually no.  You can have it removed now with lasers."
 

"Ouch!" he said.  "Would that hurt a lot?"
 

"No.  Well, maybe just a little bit.  Now scoot and let me dress up in
peace, young man."
 

He turned around and gave her a knowing smile.  Scully almost jerked back
in surprise - the smile positively looked like a Mulder smirk for one flash
of a second.
 
 
 

Week 2
9, 10, 11
------------
Monday
------------
 

"Fox, save the game and come over here, please.  I need to talk to you."
 

He saved his game of Resident Evil 2 and turned the TV off and sat beside her.
 

Scully inhaled deeply.  This was going to be hard.  "Remember those
memories about Samantha?"
 

"Yes," he answered cautiously, not liking the worry on her face.
 

"Next week, Fox. you're going to have some bad dreams. When you turn 12."
 

He looked up at her with fear in his eyes.  "Bad dreams, Dana?"
 

She gathered him into her lap and tucked his face into the crook of her
neck, one hand patting his thigh consolingly, the other smoothing his hair
away from his face.  "I know it's hard, Fox.  But I'll see you through them
as best as I can, okay?"
 

She felt him nod and cling to her tightly.  "What kind of dreams?"
 

"They'll be about Samantha.  You have to remember Fox, that whatever you
see in those dreams, no matter how much they make you think something, it's
not true, okay?"
 

He frowned and looked up at her.  "I don't understand, Dana."
 

"I know I'm not making any sense now, but you WILL understand when it
happens.  Trust me, okay?"
 

Fox nodded and hugged her again.
 

"And I don't want you to think that there's anything you have to keep from
me, okay?"
 

He hiccuped, a sign he was becoming frightened.  "I'm afraid, Dana."
 

She pulled him into her lap and kissed his forehead.  "I'm here for you,
Fox.  I'm here."
 
 
 

Week 3
12, 13, 14
-------------
Tuesday
-------------
 

The first dream about the abduction happened on a Tuesday.  He woke up
screaming Samantha's name and he was covered in sweat, his body shaking in
fear.
 

Scully had sprung up in bed, stunned at the ferocity of his nightmare.  It
was still fresh in his mind, and she had been a mere bystander later on
when the memories were older.
 

She had reached an arm out to touch him, and he pushed himself off the bed
and onto the floor, screaming at the top of his lungs, "WHERE'S MY
SISTER?!?!?!  WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!"
 

For a full minute, he didn't even recognize her.  His eyes were wild and
unfocused, and Scully could see perspiration dripping from his chin in huge
drops.
 

He ran out of the room and flung himself into a corner and wept, pushing
Scully away when she tried to comfort him.
 

She spent the rest of the night watching over him from the dimly lit dining
room, as the demons caught up with him and seared him with their pitchforks.
 
 

-----------------
Wednesday
-----------------
 

The memories, or lack thereof of Samantha and her sudden disappearance made
every little noise shatter his nerves.  He tried his best to keep it from
Scully, fearing he was being a nuisance in spite of her many attempts to
let him know it was okay to share and confide to her.
 

Scully knew what kinds of memories were coming back.  The fights his
parents were having, the slow but powerful conflicts that began breaking
the family apart, and the accusations that flew from mouths.  The most
traumatic of course, were the ones that crawled out and they were the most
vivid.  What's worse, they were coming back faster than he could handle them.
 

He refused to talk it over with her, thinking she had betrayed him by not
having said what he'd be going through like before.
 

Scully had tried her best to explain to him what had happened, but he would
hear none of it.  A large chasm was forged between them after a single night.
 

Fox had asked her, "Why didn't you tell me?  What happened that night, was
it my fault?  Was it really my fault?"
 

And she would try so hard to say that no, it wasn't.  He couldn't have done
anything at all.  Even if her were older or stronger, but it went into one
ear and out the other.  He became very adept at shoving her away.
 

In the middle of the week, he would stay as far away from her as possible
on the bed, hoping that it would be enough to keep her from feeling his
jerks and spasms during the nightmares.  No longer did he seek out the
warmth and security she gave so willingly, nor did he want to let the cross
on his back slide off.
 

Scully had felt like the world's biggest failure when she woke up in the
middle of the night to find his side of the bed empty.  He had opted to
sleep on the floor instead of beside her.
 

His sudden withdrawal frightened her enough to call her mother.
 

Margaret had told Dana to help him ride out the bad dreams, not to wake him
as much as possible but to be the first to be there when he opened his eyes.
 

The horrible night demons that attacked him, coupled with a normal
teenager's raging hormones antagonized the tumultuous emotions that were
coursing through him for most of the night.
 

Scully watched over him, foregoing her own sleep to see what she could do
to help him.  If she did exactly what he needed, even the old Mulder might
be cured of the nightly visits of the demons.  And that was a most noble
sentiment - to share the pain of a man who was only her partner at work,
not her lover or blood relation so that his slumber might have a semblance
to normalcy.
 

As his moans increased, Scully sat up in bed and gathered him to her chest.
He was murmuring, "It's not my fault, dad," over and over again, and "I'm
sorry, mom.  I'm sorry."
 

Scully decided it was the best time to tackle the problem.  Now or never.
 

She placed her mouth to his ear and whispered, "Fox, it wasn't your fault.
You're still a baby, you did everything that you could.  Your father and I
are just glad they didn't take you too."
 

"No," he answered.  "Dad said if I'd been braver I could have done something!"
 

My god, Dana thought.  <How could anyone do this to their own child?>
"Fox, your father said that because he didn't know what he was saying then.
It was guilt and fear talking, not him.  I know that he doesn't really
feel that way, because I don't," she said strenuously.  "You're still my
baby and if anything had happened to you too, I'd be lost forever."
 

He was hiccuping viciously, but what she had just said obviously had
meaning to him.  He clutched at her sleeve and clung for dear life.  "Do
you still love me, mom?"
 

Scully kissed his forehead, letting her lips rest against his flushed skin
for a few seconds longer than necessary.  "More than ever, Fox."
 

He rested his head on her chest, snuggling closer.
 

Woman's instinct, maternal instinct, partner instinct.  Whatever it was,
Scully knew it was the beginning of the end of Fox Mulder's nightmares.
 

----------------
Thursday
----------------
 

When Scully woke up, he was no longer in bed beside her, but standing in
front of the window watching the sunrise.
 

She stood up and walked behind him, and placed a hand on his shoulder.  He
turned his head to face her and gave her a wistful smile, then looked back
out the window again.
 

Patiently, she sat down on the edge of the bed and waited for him to speak
up.  If last night held any merit to his self-torture, he would be confused
why his feelings of inadequacy and guilt had shifted and not consciously.
 

"Was there anything else I could have done?" he suddenly asked, breaking
the early morning silence.
 

"No." she replied immediately.
 

"Then why did they blame me, Dana?  I remember they blamed me.  I remember
my father hitting me and telling me I was a faggot for not having done
anything.  I remember mom yelling at me not to go near her because she
couldn't stand seeing me.  And I remember the kids at school saying I
probably murdered her."  His voice was measured, quiet and intense.
 

Scully stared at the figure of the boy before her - a child viciously torn
from his world, and she wept silent tears for him.  Because at this moment
in his time and his space, 12 year old Fox Mulder was now a scarred man.
 

Too soon, too soon.
 

"Your parents had no one else to blame, Fox," she said gently.  "They
weren't even in the house when it happened.  Maybe if at least one of them
had been there, it could have been avoided."  She rose to her feet and
stood behind him.  "Grown-ups are like that.  They're bad at accepting
failure and sometimes, they blame the most convenient person to blame."
 

"And it was me?"
 

She stood and put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.  "I know
it's hard to believe you parents can be wrong about anything, Fox."  She
cupped his chin and made him look at her.  He resisted for a few seconds,
then met his eyes with hers.  "It's not your fault."
 

He averted his gaze, trying to break free of her hold on his chin, but she
opposed him.  "It's not your fault."
 

"No one told me that."  His eyes welled up and tears started falling down
his cheeks.  He heaved and started shaking, and Scully put her arms around
him and hugged him tight.  "Shh," she whispered, stroking his back.  "It's
okay, Fox.  I'm here for you."
 

They stood in front of the window, exorcising his agony.  Every tear he
shed was a drop towards his catharsis, and only the end of the world would
stop Scully from holding him till they all ran out.
 
 
 

After he cried in her arms, Scully let him go do some thinking by himself.
She made them both breakfast, although she knew he wouldn't be eating.  She
watched TV, even played with his Playstation, patiently waiting for him to
take the next step.
 

He was staring off into space most of the day, wandering around the tiny
apartment.  Scully had told him it was okay if he wanted to go outside and
take a walk, but he had said he didn't want to leave her alone.
 

The hours ticked by slowly for her, anxious and nervous about what Fox was
thinking about.
 

If perhaps the guilt he had suffered throughout his childhood had now been
dealt with well, would he be a new and changed Mulder?  A Mulder with no
more demons stalking him around every corner.  What would he be like?  More
carefree, perhaps?  More unguarded, less defensive, more optimistic, less
cynical?
 

The possibilities were endless.  How would this change affect their
relationship?  Would it affect it at all or not?
 

Scully had a sudden migraine attack from all the questions flitting through
her head.  Two fingers pinched the bridge of her nose, and she shut her
eyes tightly.  When she opened them, Fox was hunched beside her.  "Hey, you
okay?" he asked.
 

Scully smiled at him reassuringly.  "I'm fine.  How about you?"
 

"I was thinking maybe you'd let me do dinner tonight.  Sound okay?"
 

Fox cooking dinner.  Mulder cooking dinner.  A 13 year-old Fox Mulder
cooking dinner.  Hmmm..either way you sliced or diced it, it sounded
dubious.  But it could definitely become interesting.
 

"Sure," she answered.  "What are you thinking of cooking up?"
 

He grinned at her and moved to the kitchen.  "I'm not quite sure yet.
There are a few recipes floating around in my head, but I'm not sure which
one I want to try.  I remember puttering around the kitchen back at home, I
was really hungry and the cook had already left.  Mom and dad were out -
that happened frequently - so I taught myself how to cook."  He opened the
shelves and inspected the fridge.  "From what I remember it wasn't so bad,
so take that look off your face," he chuckled.
 

"What look?" she replied innocently.
 

"The look that says 'I hope I remember how to dial 911'," he replied.
 

They exchanged smiles that communicated a thousand words.
 

Things were definitely looking up.
 

-----------
Friday
-----------
Margaret called to check up on them, and was exhilarated with Dana's good
news of how Fox was coping.  She came over planning to cook a huge
celebration meal and almost dropped her mixing bowl when Fox opened the
door, towering over her.
 

"Hi, gramma!" he greeted, taking the bowl from her and engulfing her in a
bear hug.
 

"Oh, my!" Margaret gushed.  "You've.you've.GROWN!!" she exclaimed.
 

He laughed and led her inside, calling out "Dana!  Gramma's here!"
 

"Be out in a minute!" she called.
 

"Watcha cooking tonight, gramma?" he asked, jostling the mixing bowl in his
hands.  "Chicken?"
 

"No, honey.  I know you're a beefeater.  Hamburgers sound good?"
 

"Does it ever!" he exclaimed, playfully yanking on her sleeve as she made
her way into the kitchen.  He hoisted himself to sit on the kitchen counter
as Margaret prepared dinner.
 

"And I'm sure you'll want french fries with you burgers, young man?" asked
Margaret.
 

"Yup," he grinned.  "But Dana taught me how to make those.  Want to taste?"
 

"By all means," she smiled.  "But you do realize that recipe of hers is
from me, don't you?"
 

He bowed dramatically.  "Who else?"
 

They worked in companionable silence, Fox peeling potatoes as Margaret
prepared her hamburger mix.  Dana would of course protest she was spoiling
him again, but it was hard for Margaret to resist.  Fox was such a charming
young man, and the change in him was astounding.  There was still sadness
in his eyes, maybe even a hint of seriousness no doubt caused by the
memories of his missing sister and less than ideal family life but he was
obviously a much happier young man.  Like Dana, she wished that it would
carry over back into his adulthood.
 

Scully walked into the kitchen and peered over her mother's shoulder.  "Is
that what I think it is?"
 

"Of course," answered Margaret.  "A young man needs meat, sweetheart."
 

"I'm making your mom's french fries, Dana," remarked Fox.
 

An eyebrow arched.  "My MOTHER'S french fries?"
 

"Well, it's her recipe, isn't it?" he grinned, then bumped into Margaret
playfully.
 

"Smart ass," replied Scully.  "I'll heat up some oil for your grease
festival."
 
 

--------------
Saturday
--------------
 

Scully decided that by next week, Fox would be turning 15, 16 and 17, and
would need a room of his own for that period of time.  The guestroom of her
apartment would be acceptable, but she and Fox needed to buy a bed, sheets,
pillows, a small cabinet for his clothes, and toiletries as well.
 

"Can't I just keep sleeping with you, Dana?" he begged.  "I don't move
around much, do I?"
 

Scully ruffled his hair.  "Fox, next week you're going to go through
puberty in seven days.  Usually, it takes anywhere from one to six years
and even that amount of time is too fast for other boys.  Trust me, in the
long run, you'll appreciate the privacy."
 

"What if I have the nightmares about Samantha again?" he asked glumly.
 

"Then you're more than welcome to come over to my room and stay with me
then, okay?"
But Fox couldn't help but feel like he was being a burden by doing so.
Surely, if Dana really meant it, she would have let him stay with her in
her bed.  He terribly missed sleeping beside her, where at any point during
the night he'd wake up, he could feel her warmth.  He also missed the way
she caressed his hair to make him fall asleep faster, and waking her up in
the morning to see her smile.
 

He knew he was too old to want to sleep beside her.  Already he was almost
taller than she, and he had even teased her mercilessly for it, but there
was just no beating falling asleep to her soft breathing, the smell of her
soap and shampoo, and the glow that radiated from her skin.
 

Absolutely nothing.
 
 

Week 4
15, 16, 17
-------------
Monday
-------------
 

His voice lowered overnight and Scully could almost see the sudden
transformations of his physique as the hours passed.
 

His body, although lean for the last couple of weeks, hardened into sinewy
muscles.  His Adam's apple suddenly popped out of his throat, and his body
hair grew out.
 

He let her witness his 'first shave,' and for the first time in her life,
Scully felt like a pedophile, admiring his budding anatomy in the mirror as
he expertly ran the razor across his jaw, shirtless and fresh from a hot
shower.
 

The nightmares had come to an almost complete stop, Scully sneaking into
his room to make sure he wasn't lying to her and only saying that to keep
her from worrying about him.
 

Fox had learned to deal with any memories that came back to him at this
point with a grain of salt.  He could still remember many lonely nights he
had spent alone in his room crying, terrified of his father and resentful
of his mother, and his contemplation of how he fit into his sister's
disappearance.
 

When Dana caught him flipping through her medical books, she had informally
questioned him on what he had dug up, and was impressed with his answers.
 

This prompted her to explain to him what he was exactly  going through.
She had used all the medical jargon there was on his situation, confident
that in so far as medical jargon was concerned, he was capable of
understanding.
 

The humdinger of it all was that he was already actually a grown 37
year-old man who had been her partner in the FBI for the last 5 years.  She
brought him photos of himself with her in a tiny office that she said
belonged to a bunch called The Lone Gunmen, his badge from the FBI, several
case files with his name on them and showed him his driver's license.
 

When he had managed to close his mouth and regulate his breathing, she had
asked him if he believed her.  It never occurred to him not to.  This was,
after all, Dana.
 

Dana had cleared things up for him, made him stop feeling worthless and
told him what he had always craved to hear.  He had needed reassurance, and
she had given it to him.  He wondered how he had managed to keep himself
from putting an end to his life without her.
 

It helped to read the numerous case files she had given him, and he
hungrily read through each and every one of them.  It shed some light on
what he was going through, where the world he knew to be the last line of
truth shared an expanse with magic, mystery and the paranormal.
 

On Tuesday, Dana took him to a nearby basketball court and watched as he
made friends with a few other boys for a game.  She cheered for him as he
showboated , dunking the ball in and making graceful lay-ups.  The team he
was on won, and the boys invited him back for another game the following
day.  Dana overheard him tell them he was only visiting, and would be
leaving that same night.  By tomorrow, they would notice the sudden
physical difference and ask too many questions.
 

She moved away from him and the rest of the boys to give him time to say
goodbye.
 

One of the boys, a freckled youth with long brown hair asked Fox who she
was.  Fox smiled her way and waved, deliberately keeping his voice low so
she wouldn't here it.  "She's my guardian angel."
 
 

Week 5
18, 19, 20
-------------
Monday
-------------
 

Monday, Fox informed her he remembered how to drive.
 

His driver's license of course, stated he was 37 years old, and Scully
doubted a cop would believe he was the same man if he got pulled over.
 

He asked her if it had ever happened before, and she had lost the argument
then and there.
 

Scully let him drive to the mall, and conceded he was indeed a good driver
and letting him use the Bureau car was okay.
 

She could almost smell the estrogen as she and Fox walked around The Gap,
the female teenagers trying vainly to act inconspicuous as they perused
clothing after clothing confined to the shelves that were directly in front
or beside him.
 

He smiled at a few of them, the ones he caught looking, but made
conversation only with the clerks.
 

His new haircut and a-tad-too-tight-jeans are doing the trick, Scully
thought.  <He could murder someone at this mall and they'd all give him an
alibi.>
 

Walking into the shop and letting him leave his arm around her was a bad
idea, perhaps.  But she was completely blameless for his territoriality,
i.e. remaining within 5 feet of her, holding her hand, tugging on her
sleeve, seeking her approval with a nod and hugging her from behind as
often as he could.
 

Since he was 'three years old', and the fear of all that he was going
through constantly loomed like a shadow, Fox had used Dana to keep the fear
at bay.  What he lacked from his family, Dana had given him
unconditionally.  A shoulder to cry on, a listening ear, a reassuring hug
and most of all, her time and love, was helping him see through the unique
and difficult situation.
 

His dependency, her mother assured, would gradually abate as he matured.
"Remember Dana, I mentioned to you a long time ago Fox was tactile.  More
so now with you because you've been a constant companion. A source of
strength and comfort.  It's only natural of course."
 

Scully had conceded to the fact, but was still worried on how her
relationship with Mulder would change once he got back to his normal self.
Everything he was experiencing now he would remember, and she couldn't help
but speculate, if maybe  this overly-physical Mulder might be what her FBI
partner could have been like, had they not been professional partners.
 

Was Mulder as tactile as her mother said he was?  Scully had been under the
impression that 'tactile' meant touchy.  Mulder wasn't very touchy, and
neither was she.  The occasional hand on her back, and his not-too-frequent
forays into her personal space.  Well, okay, more-frequent-then-I'm
letting-on forays into my personal space, she thought.  But that wouldn't
really put him into the tactile category, could it?
 

This new Mulder though. the one she had taken care of during his journey
back to childhood, was highly dependent on her and it was understandable.
She was, after all, the only one who understood fully what he was going
through, and provided all that he needed and more.
 
 

Week 6
21, 22, 23
-------------
Tuesday
-------------
 

His Oxford education was coming back to him in chunks, and Scully would
find him writing things down frantically, or staring off into space as his
mouth recited lectures silently as his lessons came back.
 

Scully woke up at 3 AM Wednesday morning to check on him, and found his bed
unused.
 

She found him at the dining table, wearing only his boxers and socks in
front of the computer.  "Hey," she greeted.
 

He looked up at her.  "Damn.  Did I wake you, Dana?  I'm sorry," he
apologized.
 

Scully shook her head and approached him, pulling out a seat beside his.
"You didn't.  I just stood up to use the bathroom and heard the keyboard.
What're you looking at?"
 

He rubbed his eyes and pointed to the monitor.  "Look," he marveled.  "I'm
in here."
 

Scully studied the screen.  There was his name on a homepage about Monty
Props, his brilliant monograph on the serial killer that assisted the
felon's apprehension.
 

She snickered.  "Is this what you've been doing all night?  Surfing around
the Net for your name?"
 

Fox blushed a shade red.  "Yeah, curiosity got the better of me.  There
isn't much though.  The search engines didn't have much to go on Fox
William Mulder."
 

She let her eyes roam over his face, a short-lived feeling of where the
time had gone over the last several weeks.  He was a man now, and she
missed the little boy she treated and loved like a son.
 

He was fast reaching the point of becoming the old Mulder, she knew.  And
every second of this special relationship with him was coming to a close.
 

"Why are you staring at me?" he suddenly asked, catching her by surprise.
 

Scully shook her head and smiled at him.  "I was just thinking of how fast
you grew," she said.  "People always say that, but this time, when I say
it, it's literal."  She waved her hand off in dismissal, realizing she
sounded like a regretful and lonely old lady and stood, planning to fix
them both something to eat.
 

She heard him push his chair away from the table and walk into the kitchen
area, following her.  He stood behind her and observed her movements, and
offered his help.  "No, you go back to the computer.  I can handle it fine
in here."
 

Fox placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around, planning to
throttle her playfully till she let him help her.
 

Scully's robe parted, and the first two buttons of her pajamas were open,
leaving her white skin vulnerable to his gaze.
 

A spark of sexual electricity sizzled between them, but denying what it was
is was what they both did best.  It was late at night, Fox was shirtless
and Dana was dressed only in her pajamas.  They broke guiltily apart, but
for different reasons.
 

In Scully's scientific mind, Mulder had just finished tumultuous puberty,
and any functioning female was sure to cause his carnal side to surface.
It was up to her to, it was HER responsibility, to make sure that their
association before all this remained the same.
 

Yes, she found Fox attractive.  Mulder was attractive, there was no denying
that.  And the atmosphere now was doing strange things to her.  From the
soft light surrounding them to his lack of clothing and even the way his
smile suddenly disappeared - an erotic air was undoubtedly hanging thickly
in the tiny kitchen.
 

Any attraction he felt towards her was strictly testosterone-induced, and
certainly not exclusive to her.  After all, she had treated him like a son,
how could he possibly think of her in any other sense than maternal or
platonic?
 

Fox was just trying his damnedest not to embarrass him or Dana with his
adolescent crush.  But why does it feel like a lot more? he thought.  <A
lot, lot more.>
 

Their conversation during their midnight snack was strained and labored.
 

------------------
Wednesday
------------------
 

Constantly, he would beg her to bring him books and magazines about
psychology from the Bureau's library, if only, he said, to refresh the
growing vault of memories in his mind.
 

Fox was also learning to flirt with her, just like old times.  He could be
so blatantly mischievous at times, teasing her mercilessly about how she
had 'ruined' him for other women.   Lancet pen  haldol
 

To the casual observer's eye, it was an unalterable infatuation.
 

Scully took it all in stride, seeing it as a sign he was nearing the stage
where his manhood was beginning to assert itself.  He hadn't tried anything
so blatant as to kiss her, or succumb to the usual ploy of overly-horny men
and cop a feel.
 

The sad truth of the matter though, was that Fox Mulder was falling in love
with her.  And neither of them realized it.
 

--------------
Thursday
--------------
 

He sat up in his bed, suddenly remembering Phoebe.
 

With indignation, he looked down to see his erection tenting the front of
his boxers and decided he needed a cold shower.
 

The first memory of when he had met her came first, followed by a flash or
two of them flirting with each other, and the first time they had sex.  It
was mind-blowing, from what he could remember.  She had shown him what to
do to please her, and he had been an eager pupil.
 

A few more memories of the insanity they succumbed to, to alleviate their
mostly sexual relationship burrowed out and finally, the big break-up.  The
one that had started off with her telling him she was moving on to greener
pastures, and ending with his fists cracking the drywall of his apartment.
 

He turned the water on and kept it as cold as he could muster.  Dana would
be coming into his room soon to call him for breakfast, and the last thing
he wanted her to see was a morning hard-on.
 

Just as he was beginning to lose it, the thought of Dana seeing him in this
state hardened it again.  <Quit it, you fucking pervert!> he shouted to
himself, thumping his head against the white tiles.  <I could've been stuck
living through this crap with a cow, a bull or something that didn't look
quite as attractive as Dana.  But fuck, no.  I had to get a red-headed
angel instead.>
 

He screamed a string of obscenities when his erection got even harder.
 

Scully was scrambling eggs when she heard the
"Goddamnfuckingsonofabitchinmotherfreakin'asshole!!!!" and almost dropped
the pan.  Cursing certainly came naturally to him all of a sudden.
 

She ran to Fox's room and burst in, not bothering to knock and heard the
shower.  She banged on the door and asked him what was wrong.
 

He yelled that he was fine, just stubbed his toe, he said.  But it didn't
sound convincing.
 

She let him leave it at that, and left him to finish and get dressed.
 

Scully was trying hard to stifle her smirk during breakfast.  He was grumpy
and irritable.  <Stubbed toe, my foot.>
 

"Toe still hurt?" she asked.
 

"Toe?  Oh.  No.  No.  Not at all," he stammered.  He pushed his eggs around
his plate then set his fork down.  "How much of my past did I tell you
about, Dana?  I mean, when you knew me before."
 

Scully put her fork down as well.  "Not very much.  You'd reveal a few
things here and there, but we never really - talked."
 

He looked at her observed her carefully.  "But we were partners for five
years, right?"
 

"Yes, but we never really got too personal," she answered, suddenly
becoming a tad uncomfortable at where the conversation was heading.
 

"Did you and I ever - uh, how do I say this without shooting myself in the
foot -"
 

"Go from professional partners to a more intimate relationship?" she ventured.
 

His cheeks turned a rosy red.  "Yeah?"
 

Scully managed a weak smile.  She was thankful that Fox had been looking at
his scrambled eggs and missed it.  Or he would have an inkling to the truth
of how she felt about him.  "No, that never happened."
 

He nodded, desirous of asking her why not, but was too apprehensive of what
her answer might be.  "How much of my past did I tell you about?"
 

"Very little," she answered.
 

He was contemplative for a moment.  "Did I ever mention Phoebe?"
 

Scully looked up at him, startled.  He was SHARING with her.  "Yes.  She.
she came back into your life a few months after you and I were assigned
together.  You mentioned that you had had an affair with her during your
Oxford years."
 

He chuckled uneasily, pushing his eggs around his plate.  "I just realized
how much I hated that bitch."
 

Holy cow.
 

"She was amazing," he continued.   "In bed and out of it.  Intelligent,
driven, independent, arrogant in a way that drove me crazy.  She made me
forget about my family by making herself the center of my universe.  I did
everything I could do to please her.  Then she got bored.  Maybe I did
too."  He looked up at her and smiled regretfully.  "It made it easier for
me to think that way when she told me we were over."
 

Scully didn't know what suddenly came over her.  "I hated her on site."
 

This time, Fox was the startled one.  "So you actually met her?"
 

"Yes.  But only a few times when you were assisting her on her case.  Once
or twice, both under undesirable circumstances."
 

"Undesirable circumstances?"
 

"She played a prank on us.  She left a tape in our car saying it was going
to explode, and the next time I found the two of you dancing in each
other's arms right before a fire in a hotel we were surveying broke out.
She was more preoccupied with congratulating the false hero of the moment
than attending to you.  A victim of smoke inhalation."
 

Fox shook his head in disgust.  "I actually danced with her?  What the hell
was I thinking."
 

"I'm sure I don't know," she answered.  "But we pulled through it.  Mulder
and Scully always do."
 
 

-------------
Saturday
-------------
3:01 AM
 
 

A soft thud woke her up, followed by hushed voices and her front door
shutting quietly.  Quickly, Scully stood up and took her service weapon
from her bedside table.  She padded out of her bedroom, forcing her eyes to
adjust to the darkness as she surveyed the immediate area around her before
running to the door and looking out the corridor.  Nothing.
 

She made her way back inside, a horrible feeling of fear gripping at her
chest as she went into Fox's room.
 

His bed was empty, and he was nowhere in site.
 
 

----------------------------------------------------------------------
3:20 AM
Assistant Director Walter Skinner's Residence
----------------------------------------------------------------------
 

Any phone call before sunrise is bad news, thought Skinner.
 

He picked it up and cleared his throat, rubbing his eyes.  "Skinner."
 

"Sir, we've got a situation on our hands."
 

"Scully.  What the matter?"
 

"Mulder's been kidnapped, sir."
 

He bolted into a sitting position, swinging his legs over the side of the
bed.  "Where are you, Agent Scully?"
 

"At my apartment, sir."
 

"I'm on my way."
 
 

When Skinner arrived at Scully's apartment, a battalion of FBI agents were
already there.  Agents were sweeping for fingerprints, others were taking
pictures, while others still searched every nook and cranny for clues.
 

Whispers and mutterings of why Mulder had been at her apartment in the
first place at 3 AM didn't escape Scully, nor did she bother explaining to
them why he'd been in a separate room when the kidnapping had occurred.
"Probably a lover's quarrel," provided one.
 

Skinner, dressed in jeans and a blue shirt was greeted by "Morning, Sir" by
the agents there, then directed to Scully's room.  She was on the phone,
her index finger stuck in her ear to keep the din outside from interfering
with her hearing.  "Thanks, Frohike," she said, before replacing the handset.
 

"Agent Scully."
 

She looked haggard, worried and stressed, but still very much in control.
She had changed before the FBI came over into jeans and a sweater.  "I'm
sorry for waking you at this hour, sir," she apologized.
 

Skinner waved off her concern.  "What happened?"
 

Scully explained about the noises and finding Mulder gone.  Skinner could
hear the carefully disguised and hidden panic in her voice.
 

They walked back out to the living room together, Skinner summoning the
agent in charge of the evidence sweep.  "Find anything?"
 

Agent Hollis shook his head.  "No sir.  Whoever took Agent Mulder was very
professional.  No fibers, no hair, no fingerprints or footprints, no
anything."
 

"Any sign of a struggle?" asked Skinner.
 

"Yes, sir.  We found traces of blood on the floor.  They've already been
analyzed.  They were Agent Mulder's."  He sounded defeated.  "There's
something else we found, sir."
 

"What?"
 

The agent left the room momentarily and came back with an armful of fairly
thick black wires attached to little apparatuses.  "Surveillance cameras,
sir.  One from each room of the house, including the bathrooms."
 

"Send them over to the lab.  I want answers.  Where they came from, and how
were Agents Mulder and Scully observed, understood?"
 

"We've already traced them sir.  Video cassette recorders were found in the
apartment adjacent to the one above Agent Scully's, but there were no tapes
to be found."
 

Skinner turned to Scully.  "If you've got any bright ideas, now's the time
to voice them out."
 

"I've already spoken to some sources, sir.  They'll get back to me as soon
as they hear or find anything out."
 

Skinner nodded.  "Keep me informed at all times, Agent Scully."  He placed
a hand on her shoulder.  "We'll get him back."
 

She nodded and brought him out of the apartment, hoping with all her heart
what he said was true.
 
 

She remained in constant contact with the Lone Gunmen, but all they came
across was one dead end after another.  Langly and Frohike had been running
all over the city on false leads, while Byers stayed at headquarters.
 

The frustration at not being able to do anything, totally helpless, was
driving her to the brink of a nervous breakdown.  She felt as though she
had betrayed Mulder.  She had betrayed the trusting Fox, who depended on
her to keep him safe.
 

Scully had almost gone to his apartment to tape an X to his window, then
remembered the violent ending of the dubious informant.
 

There was only one thing left to do.  She went into his room and sat on his
bed and prayed.
 
 
 

His consciousness was coming back in drips.  First, he was aware that he
was half-awake and half-asleep.  Next, that the area around his eye, ribs
and lower back stung.  And finally - and this was the weirdest - there was
something in his mouth, something pinching his nose, and he was completely
immersed in water.
 

Slowly, he opened his eyes and panicked.  He WAS submerged in water, but
now that he was totally awake, it didn't feel too much like it.  It was
bluish and thick, like hair gel, but just a little thinner in consistency.
 

Fox looked around.  He was in a large aquarium-like container, a breathing
apparatus covering his mouth and nose.  He pressed his palms against a side
and peered out, and saw a man in a lab coat at a computer.  Pounding on the
side didn't help, he was too weak to get a sound out.
 

He looked up and saw a lid covering the aquarium and tried to shove it off
with his foot, with no success.  He struggled with it more, and finally
gave up, deciding he would wait till the idiot at the computer noticed him.
 

Something caught the man's attention.  A sound, it appeared and he rushed
over to a monitor, then looked at Fox.  His eyes widened and he ran out of
the room for a few seconds and returned with 3 others who were dressed
exactly like him.
 

One of them walked up to Fox and motioned for him to calm down.  He freaked
out even more, trying his best to curse with the device shoved in his
mouth.  The substance surrounding him seemed to be moving, and slowly it
drained from around him.
 

One of the men brought out a rifle that looked to be equipped with a
tranquilizer dart and aimed it at him, as the lid above slid open.
 

Fox stood gingerly, placing his hands on the edges, wearily observing the
surrounding scientists, especially the one with the gun.  He spat out the
breathing device and cleared his face of muck.  "Where the hell am I?" he
demanded.
 

Silence.  Fox surveyed each of them.  One was obese and balding, one had a
small goatee and thinning hair,  and another was tall and clean-shaven but
had long, black, curly hair.  "I SAID, where the hell am I?!" he demanded
again.
 

Baldy approached.  "Mr. Mulder, please calm down."
 

His tone was venomous.  "I will calm down when someone gives me some
answers, dammit!  And where's Dana?!  What the hell did you do to Dana?!!"
 

"Agent Scully is fine.  She's still at her apartment, no one touched her,
she was in no way harmed, I can promise you that."
 

"Who the fuck are you to make promises?!  I want to see her and make sure
she's fine, do you understand?!"
 

Baldy nodded to the rifle-toting lab boy, Goatee.  He raised the rifle, and
shot Fox in the arm even before he could utter a protest.
 

When next he woke, he was strapped down to a bed.  A quiet drone from a TV
monitor was playing some kind of surveillance tape in black and white, and
Curly was sitting nearby watching it.  He heard the rustle of the bed
sheets as Fox sat up and smiled at him sleazily.
 

"Look familiar?" he asked.  "Both of you look cute together.  At any of
your ages."
 

Fox gazed at the screen.  It was him and Dana eating dinner, when he was
about 4 or 5.  The volume was too low, but he could make out words from
their conversation.  "Broccoli...you..boy," she said.
 

"I..broccoli but...carrots." he had answered, and Dana had smiled at him.
 

Curly had a remote in his hand and fast-forwarded the tape.  He scanned
over different sections of Dana's house, spanning his rapid growth.  He and
Dana playing on the floor, he and Dana asleep in her bed; it even included
the night he had his nightmares and Dana woke up to comfort him.  He
watched, only realizing then how she had kept vigil over him.
 

"You've been doing extremely well," said Curly.  "Much better than
anticipated."
 

So they were responsible for all the weird crap that was happening to him,
he thought.   He fought against the restraints, trying desperately to break
free just for the sheer pleasure of ripping Curly's arm off, and beating
him over the head with it.
 

"Calm down, Mr. Mulder.  You aren't going to be able to break free.  You
aren't in any kind of danger here.  We just want to see how you're doing."
 

"I'm not in any kind of danger?!  Then why the fuck does it feel like
someone's been playing street hockey on my face?!" he demanded.
 

"You resisted our initial attempts at bringing you here peacefully.  If two
of our men hadn't been so badly injured, I and the others would actually be
proud of you."
 

"Listen Obi-Wan, I'm not Luke-Fucking-Skywalker," he spat.  "I want to know
why you've done this to me!!"
 

Curly pulled his chair to Fox's bedside.  "Now, now, Mr. Mulder.  At this
point in your life, you haven't become Agent Mulder yet, and as is the
case, are unfamiliar with the importance of secrecy in our lines of work."
He smiled ruefully.  "Let's just say you've stepped on a few toes, but
coincidentally enough could have been the only individual physically adept
enough to cope with our little experiments."
 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
 

Curly ignored the question and stood up.  "You'll be returned to Agent
Scully's care in a few hours.  The blood tests have been taken care off,
and I suggest you be a little more cooperative when the technicians come in
to take samples of your hair, nails and skin.  The faster you cooperate,
the quicker you'll be returned to Agent Scully."  He turned to leave the
room, then stopped in mid-stride and faced Fox again.  "Who, by the way, is
taking excellent care of you.  Please extend our deepest appreciation."
 

About half an hour later, a nurse and two lab technicians walked in.  All
three were carrying medical kits.
 

The nurse attended to Fox's eye and other bruises, treating them with
antiseptic and changed the bandages on his lower back and rib.
 

The two tech heads worked in synchronicity, one acquiring samples, the
other placing them in petri dishes or slides.  Strands of his hair were cut
off, the nail from his thumb trimmed, and a skin scraping from his arm all
filed.  When they were done, the nurse took a syringe out and injected him.
 

The last thing on Fox's mind before he fell into drug-induced slumber was
hoping Curly had not been lying in saying Dana was alright, and that he
would be going home to her very soon.
 
 

Week 7
24, 25, 26
 

-------------
Monday
4:20 PM
-------------
 

His eyes opened to his favorite thing in the world.  Dana.
 

He was in a hospital room but he was with her, she was okay, everything was
all right.
 

Her hand was sifting through his hair, his head in her lap.  She didn't see
that he'd already opened his eyes, too engrossed with a file she was
reading.  They were on the bed, one of his arms around her waist,
indicating that at one point during his drugged sleep his subconscious
recognized her presence and snuggled closer.
 

Fox tightened his grip to let her know he as awake.
 

"Hi, there," she greeted.  "Welcome back."
 

"It's good to be back.  How did I get here?" he asked, trying to sit up.
 

Scully pushed him down gently, keeping him prone.  "It's better if you try
sitting up slowly, Fox.  You might get nauseous from the effort, okay?"
 

He nodded and lay back down, searching out her hand and interlacing his
fingers with hers.  "How did I get here?" he asked again.
 

"I got a call that you were back in your apartment," Scully answered, a tad
uncomfortable at the intimacy he was showing.  "I called the Bureau and
Skinner sent some agents and paramedics there to check it out with me.  We
found you on the sofa and brought you back here.  You were really out of it."
 

"They uh, stuck something into my arm.  It took about 5 seconds for me to
get knocked out," he replied, feeling woozy again and shutting his eyes.
 

Scully brushed some hair off his forehead.  "I'll need to ask you some
questions later on, Fox.  But not until you're up to it, okay?"
 

He nodded groggily and burrowed into the covers deeper, already drifting
off.  "I'm glad you're okay, Dana.I thought they'd done something to you.
I would have killed them if they hurt you."
 

Scully didn't say anything.  She watched his chest rise and fall till he
was breathing deeply.
 

When her phone rang a few hours ago to tell her of his location, her
adrenaline started pumping throughout her body and fear rose in her throat
like bile.  Calling Skinner and telling him what had just happened
prolonged the agony to almost unbearable proportions.  The agents were told
to meet her there along with paramedics.
 

When they found him on the sofa, he was so still Scully thought he was
dead.  She and the paramedics checked his vitals, and concluded he had been
heavily drugged and was unconscious.  They took him to the hospital and
tests were taken while he was still asleep.
 

The two doctors who had treated him the first time he was brought there
were shocked at seeing him again, trying their best to get Scully to open
up about the medical and scientific miracle that was Fox Mulder.  They
would have had more success squeezing blood from a rock.
 

When Fox woke up again two hours later and told Scully he was feeling much
better, they made arrangements for him to be checked out.  The hospital
faxed their findings an hour later, confirming the drug used to knock him
out was Haldol.  Aside from that, the levels of anti-aging drugs in his
system were still diminishing at a steady rate, and there was evidence that
he had been given a strong anti-bacterial and antiseptic bath before they
had found him.
 

<Someone doesn't want us knowing what they're up to, the bastards.
Surprise, surprise.>
 

--------------
8:00 PM
-------------
 

When Fox woke up later on, he heard Dana in the living room on the phone.
She was talking to Skinner, he assumed, by the way she was saying "Sir."
 

He sat up, feeling a lot better and swung his feet over the edge.
Carefully, he stood up to talk to Dana.  She would definitely want to know
as much as he could tell her about what had happened to him.
 

He walked out of the room, Dana taking notice of him and spoke into the
phone.  "He's awake, sir.  Hold on  while I ask him if he's up to going to
the Bureau."  She looked at him expectantly.  He nodded back and headed for
his room to change.
 

"We'll be there in half and hour, sir."
 
 

It was a good thing they arrived there way after office hours.  Most of the
agents had already left, and the few that remained in the building were
easy to get around.
 

Skinner and Scully agreed to meet in the X-Files office at 8:30, and when
she and Fox walked in, he was already there.
 

"How are you doing, Agent Mulder?" he asked, completely forgetting Fox
wasn't Agent Mulder yet.
 

Fox grinned.  "That has a nice ring to it, don't you think, Dana?"
 

Scully smiled up at him.  "Not for another few days, Fox."
 

Skinner cleared his throat and sat on the edge of Mulder's desk.  He and
Scully watched as Fox surveyed the room, taking in every little object,
touching everything.  He stood in front of his I Want To Believe Poster,
and looked back at Dana.  "Mine?"
 

She nodded.  "Yours."
 

His palm reached for the image of the UFO, caressing it slowly.  "What did
I want to believe in, Dana?"
 

Ah, the $64,000 question.  "The truth, Fox.  That's what the X-Files and
our partnership was all about."
 

Skinner stood up, hating to break his voyage of rediscovery, but questions
needed to be asked.  "Agent Mu - Fox.  Fox, we need some answers from you
about your abduction."
 

Fox nodded, slowly turning around giving the poster one last look.  "What
do you need to know?"
 

"Do you have any idea at all where you were taken?  Even an approximation
of how long it took to get there from Scully's apartment.  Anything at all."
 

He shook his head.  "No.  The last thing I remembered was waking up because
I heard a noise, and I thought it was Dana.  I stood up from bed and called
her name, and something was shot into my arm.  I hit the floor, then woke
up in a tank."
 

Scully stepped closer.  "A tank?"
 

"Yeah.  I had a breathing apparatus in my mouth.  And I was immersed in a
weird blue liquid that was kind of thick."
 

Skinner had been jotting down notes.  "Could you see out of it?"
 

"Yeah, it didn't hurt my eyes at all.  There were three doctors.  I can
remember their faces clearly, if you want me to talk to a sketch artist."
 

The AD nodded.  "I'll send someone over first thing tomorrow.  Maybe we can
come up with something feasible then."
 

Fox told them about the rest of his experience, the samples taken from him
and remembered to tell Dana about the surveillance equipment.  She nodded,
telling him they'd already been found and dealt with.
 

They talked for another 20 minutes or so, Fox recounting as much as he
could to give them a clue to the identity of his abductors.  But already
Skinner and Scully knew only dead-ends would turn up.  Still, Fox was
confident he could identify the scientists if he saw them again and that
had a shred of promise to it.
 

Scully invited Skinner to grab a cup of coffee before going home, but he
politely declined.  The VCS had been behaving like a bunch of brats blaming
Mulder and Scully's desertion for their failure to solve their pending
case.  He'd had a pounding headache all day, and wanted nothing more than
to get some sleep.
 

But in spite of the AD's fatigue, he caught the smiles between Scully and
young Mulder, and the way Mulder's hand splayed over her hip as he led her
out of the X-Files office.  There was something more intimate about it;
different from the way they usually touched the other.
 

Mulder, Skinner thought.  <You owe this woman BIG TIME.  Don't screw it up.>
 
 
 
 

-----------------
Wednesday
-----------------
Scully thought it would be a good idea to show him his apartment, and let
him get a few things he might need.  He wouldn't need to wear a suit for
another couple of weeks, but having one in his room at her place seemed
like a good idea.
 

She was a little sad when he asked her if he could stay at his place just
this one night for the meantime.  It would give him a clue to his identity,
he said and she agreed.
 

She regretted it however, when on the same night she caught a nasty case of
the flu and was too immobile to even fix herself some dinner.
 

Calling him to tell him she wouldn't be over was a bad idea too.  He
guiltily explained to her over the phone that it was his fault she was
under the weather, convinced that the woman behind her in line to pay for
HIS dinner that sneezed into Dana's back was the virus-carrying culprit.
 

He quickly re-packed his bag and shoved his toilet kit inside, and headed
for her apartment.
 

Since his signature was already the 37 year-old Mulder's scribble, he
decided to stop by a nearby new age shop, remembering having read somewhere
that certain scented candles helped sick people recover faster.
 

Purely by coincidence, he saw the deli across the street that gave him a
good idea, and some chicken soup and bread joined his other charged items.
 

He took a cab to her apartment and let himself in, knocking softly on her
bedroom door.
 

"Dana?  It's me."
 

A muffled moan broke its way through the layers of bed sheets piled on top
of her.  "Get out of here before you catch this thing!"
 

He chuckled and sat beside her on the bed.  "You and I know I'm incapable
of getting sick with this weird metabolism thing going on."
 

"Go ahead and gloat.  I'll kill you in the morning."
 

He stood up and brushed the hair away from her face.  "I brought you a few
things.  Soup and some scented candles.  Let me put them away and I'll see
what I can do about that nasty fever, okay?"
 

<Soup and scented candles?>  God, she thought.  <I must really be sick.
I'm starting to hear things.>
 

Fox walked into the kitchen and poured the chicken and rice into a bowl and
set it on the counter.  He surveyed the living room, concluding it would be
much easier for himself to take care of her out here than the bedroom.
 

He pushed the sofa back and dragged the mattress from his room to the
living room floor and fitted it with sheets, and piled pillows across it
and grabbed a comforter from the linen closet.
 

Next, the candles were arranged and lit, and he selected a video from her
collection to play on the VCR before heading back to the bedroom.
 

Gently, he sat down next to her again and softly whispered, "Dana?  I'm
going to carry you out into the living room, okay?  I've made a bed there
and you'll be more comfy."
 

Scully tried her best to protest, but he wouldn't hear any of it.  He
gathered her into his arms and carried her out, using his cheek to feel the
heat emanating from her  forehead.  He laid her delicately on the makeshift
bed, then headed for the bathroom and wet a face towel.
 

When he came out, she was curled into a ball, sullenly watching Breakfast
at Tiffany's on the TV.
 

He sat beside her and laid the towel across her forehead, and tugged on her
to lay her head on his lap.  "This'll be more comfy for you," he said.
"And I know you aren't hungry now, but if you could get some soup in,
there's chicken and rice waiting to be heated up."
 

"Forget about the FBI," she grumbled.  "Be a nurse instead."
 

Fox grinned and stroked her hair softly, leaning his back against the sofa
and turned down the volume a little, hoping that she'd fall into a deep and
healing sleep.
 

He rubbed her arm from the joint of her shoulder to her wrist, listening
intently to her breathing.
 

Images of George Peppard and Audrey Hepburn danced across the screen as
Scully snuggled closer to him, her fever causing chills to coat her body.
 

"Still cold?" he asked.
 

She nodded her head against his thigh, loathing her helplessness.  Fox
pulled the covers over her more, but her chills were really pissing him off.
 

Impatiently, he slid down from his sitting position to lie beside her
completely, and twined himself around her to warm her up, of course.  At
least, that's what he told himself when a little voice asked him what the
hell he thought he was doing.
 

He continued to stroke her hair gently, and used his other hand to rub
against her arms till it lay across her hip.  He heard her sigh and
snuffle, then move towards his warmth all the more.  Minutes later, she was
fast asleep.
 

Gently, he kissed her eyelids and took the wet towel off her forehead,
placing it on the floor beside the couch.
 

A feeling of peace surrounded him.  Something told him this was just RIGHT.
That Dana belonged in his arms, and taking care of her was something he
was born to do.
 

When sleep came to him, it was deep and inexplicably euphoric.
 

-----------------
Wednesday
-----------------
12:31 PM
 

I could get used to waking up like this, thought Fox.  He felt a wonderful
tenderness for Dana, sleeping in his arms, her fever gone.
 

The entire apartment was silent, Dana's deep breathing the only
interruption.  Fox watched her chest rise and fall, her tiny hand loosely
holding on to the comforter.
 

<Arousal, thy name is Dana.>
 

Reluctantly, he stood up, gently extricating himself from her grasp.  He
checked on the chicken and rice soup from the night before, and it was
still good but since her fever was gone, she might want something solid.
 

He called an Italian restaurant and had some pasta delivered, then set
about tidying the apartment a bit.  He fixed her bed and cleaned the
bathroom best as he could, and washed the dishes that had accumulated
during her brief convalescence.
 

When he checked on her again, she was still sleeping soundly.  Quietly, he
sat down next to her and caressed her face.  His thumb danced delicately
over her cheekbones, cheeks and the slope of her nose.
 

He suddenly remembered her tattoo, and challenged himself to take another
look.  He had been too young the first time he saw it to appreciate the
eroticism, and a blood rush hit him hard in the groin at the recollection.
Cautiously, he placed his hand on the joint of her shoulder and pulled her
back to him.  The desired effect was met, as Dana rolled to her side, her
back to him.  He lifted her shirt and bent his head.  Sure enough, it was
there.
 

He stared at the image of the snake eating its tail, against the porcelain
white skin of her back and his breathing became ragged.  He realized there
was a dark side to Dana, one that she had not shown him.  He wondered if he
as Mulder had seen it, and how he had reacted to it.
 

Fox suddenly felt exceptionally warm.  The atmosphere, the tattoo, and the
woman in his arms were hitting him in all the wrong places.  Everything
seemed to be there to titillate his sensuous and erotic side, and instantly
a dangerous idea popped into his head.
Did he dare, he asked himself.
 

<Yes, I do.>
 

Slowly, he lowered his head and touched his lips to her forehead.  Dana
didn't stir.
 

Another kiss, on the tip of her nose.  Still, no reaction.  He grew a bit
bolder and touched his lips to hers.
 

A shudder coursed through him, and he pushed it back down viciously as he
let the moment of insanity take over.  He nipped at her full lower lip
oh-so-gently, his lips almost protesting for him to increase the pressure.
His palm cupped her cheek, and with one final taste he withdrew and sat up
again.
 

Dana stirred, he froze. "Mm.  Mulder," she murmured, as her lips formed a
tiny smile.
 

Fox closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  Had he heard right?!  Had she
breathlessly whispered his name and actually appeared to have enjoyed his
kiss?
 

He mulled the thought over and smiled euphorically.  If there was one
single, infinitesimal chance that she did, Fox Mulder knew he was the
luckiest man alive.
 
 
 
 

Week 8
27, 28, 29
------------
Monday
------------
 

He was sitting in front of the TV playing Riven, stuck at a dead end.  He
was frustrated that after a good 4 hours of play, he couldn't go any
further into the game and flung the game controller aside.
 

He looked around and saw Dana working on her laptop again, the light from
the monitor bathing her face, transforming her into an ethereal beauty.  He
sat quietly observing her, from the pale smoothness of her skin, to her
fathomless blue eyes, and strong patrician nose.  And her lips.  No
adjectives would come to his otherwise brilliant and eloquent mind.
 

Just gazing at her pacified him.  The names Reggie Purdue, John Bartlett
and a few others had seized him out of nowhere while he was in the shower
and clawed through his insides.  He wondered if he had ever told Dana about
them. Reggie was his ASAC, and Bartlett - well, he'd rather forget about
Bartlett.
 

There were a lot of thing he regretted doing in his life, some more than
others.
 

A simple gesture from Dana caught his attention.  She was playing with the
cross on her necklace.  As sacrilegious as it sounded, it was turning him
on.  The way her fingers played over it, bringing attention to her smooth
skin and collarbone made him salivate.
 

And god, oh god.  Her lips were working again, teeth lightly biting on the
red, red fold of flesh.
 

He was sick, he told himself.  A shameless pervert and ingrate, thinking
all these things he wanted to do to her, the same woman who played
surrogate mother and friend to him - and later on partner -were inexcusable.
 

The taste of her lips refused to leave him.  How could it, when they were
the softest and sweetest thing on earth to him.  And the way she had
murmured his name afterward, husky and passionate.
 

Too bad she was asleep! he thought.  <But then again, it might have been
worlds different.  Like maybe it would never have happened, or she would
have blown your balls off.>
 

He sat back and laced his fingers behind his head, and watched her for the
rest of the night in deep thought.
 

-------------
Tuesday
------------
 

It had been an exhausting day for both of them.  He and Dana had gone back
to his apartment, anticipating that by next week, he would be the old
Mulder again, and would move back to his place.
 

The lack of a bed at his place peeved him about himself, and Dana agreed it
would be a good idea to transfer all the clutter they'd accumulated during
his stay with her to his place.  The toys, picture books, clothes, his
beloved Playstation and other knick-knacks were placed into cardboard
boxes, and it took three trips from her place to his to get the job
completed.
 

Scully was silent as she packed the boxes, fighting off tears of an unknown
origin back.  There were feelings inside her tearing through her heart she
couldn't isolate or identify.  It was like losing a son, a lover, a friend,
a confidant - all those things, and more.
 

He was still only half an hour away, but it seemed like light years instead
of miles. For five years she had survived without him under her roof, why
was this time different?
 

Because there would be no more good-morning smiles, no more shared meals
and laughter, no more talking about anything and everything and nothing.
No more touches, no more companionable silences, no more shoulder to lean
on.  No more hand to hold, no more warmth to move close to when it got cold.
 

In a few days, Mulder would be back.  Things were going to go back to
normal.
 

Scully hadn't noticed, but Fox had stopped packing a box, silently
observing her.  When she raised a tissue to her eye to give it a meek dab,
he strode from across the room and took her into his arms.
 

She put her arms around his waist and hugged him hard, still trying her
best to suppress the tears until Fox cupped her chin in his palm and looked
down at her, and tears were brimming in his eyes as well.
 

"Let it go, Dana," he whispered.
 

And the cavalcade of tears poured forth unsuppressed for the first time in
Dana Scully's life.  She shed the tears, letting them gush out, letting
herself lose control.  No attempts at repressing them from Fox, because
this was FOX, it was not Mulder.
 

In her arms was the man she had danced in her underwear with when he was 5,
read to at night, cuddled in her bed, played video games with, shared her
meals, given baths to.
 

She would miss all that, and more.
 

A few days left to treasure, and he wouldn't even be with her.  He would go
back to the look-but-don't-touch Mulder.  The
don't-try-getting-into-my-head Mulder.
 

Even if he was a new man now, she felt that certainty in her heart.
Because he would see through what she had done as a mere ruse for him to be
able to sleep at night, and nothing more.  The demons she had fought hard
with would come back to haunt him, and he would conceivably resent her for
having gotten into his head during his vulnerable phase.  The Mulder she
knew didn't like that.
 

Fox was crying in her arms as well.  He held on to her for dear life,
afraid of what she was afraid off too, but much more.  The last nightmare
he had was the most awful, but it wasn't about Samantha.  After dinner one
night, he and Dana were talking about his impending step back to Mulder and
she had told him things would be very different from then on.
 

Because he would remember.
 

Fox vehemently denied that could ever happen, but she had been stubborn.
"Fox, LISTEN TO ME.  Things are going to change."  Her head shook, every
word labored and difficult to say.  "For five years you and I were
partners, we were NEVER this close.  Never.  You never shared my bed, I
never read to you, gave you baths, played games with you or went to the
mall just to walk around and buy things.  I never went with you for your
haircuts, and we rarely ever watched movies together."  She fought off the
tears that started brimming in her eyes.  "I'm sure you had your reasons.
God knows I had mine."
 

She turned around and ran into her bedroom, leaving Fox standing in the
center of the living room.  My god, he thought.  <How much of an asshole
could I have been?!  Simple acts of affection and caring, and I couldn't
even give it to her?>
 

He chose not to follow her into her room for now, she needed to be alone.
He called a fancy French restaurant and had them deliver food and wine.
Maybe he could make her feel a little better, treat her like the princess
and angel that she was in his eyes.
 

Methodically, he set the wine aside, brought out some nice dishes and lit a
few candles.  He set the table with care and lit the fireplace.
 

When everything was just right, he softly knocked on her door and let
himself in without waiting for a reply.  He found her curled into a fetal
position in bed, hugging a pillow and staring out the window.  He sat down
beside her, brushing away the strand of hair that had fallen across her
cheek.
 

"I'm sorry about what I said.  You didn't deserve it."
 

He cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand.  "I'm sure I did."
 

Oh god, she thought.  <No more tears, please no more tears!>
 

But they had a mind of their own and started streaming down her cheeks.
She tried to wipe them away, but Fox used his thumb instead.  He lay down
and put his arms around her, rocking her gently, letting her sob quietly
into his chest.
 

A few minutes later, the fit subsided and she fell asleep, the emotional
exhaustion finally taking its toll.  Fox sighed and pulled a blanket over
both of them.  He'd watch over her, he promised himself.  <From now on.>
 

He woke up a couple of hours after that, the space beside him empty but
still warm.  He sat up and saw Dana standing in the doorframe, her arms
crossed over her chest.   "The food's gotten cold," she said.
 

Fox smiled.  "That's what the microwave's for, isn't it?"
 

"Re-heated French food.  No wonder they hate us."
 

He stood up, trapping her against the wall, bracing his arms on either side
of her head.  "It's been a tiring day, Dana."
 

She lowered her eyes.
 

"Dinner.  You and me, my treat.  We're going to get through this, Dana.
You said that Mulder and Scully always pull through."  He lifted her chin
to look at him.  "This is Fox and Dana right here, right now.  I don't know
why, but we're stronger."  He softly kissed her forehead.
 

Her eyes were still red, but she nodded and let him lead her to the dining
table.
 

They ate cold champignons ... l'ail for an appetizer, and boeuf ... la
bourguignonne for their entr‚e.  The wine the restaurant had provided for
their meal was excellent, even for the $250 he popped.
 

There was more than half a bottle left, and Fox led her by the hand to the
living room, telling her to take a load off and relax from the stress of
the day.  She was quiet, which was to be expected.
 

Together, they sat down.  Fox sensitively pulled her to lean against him as
he draped an arm around her shoulders, then laid back across the sofa to
bring her with him.  He was half-sitting, half-lying on it, and Dana was
nestled comfortably between his legs, her head resting on her palm that was
flat on his chest.  It was an intimate position they had no business being
in, after all they weren't lovers.  But the wine had done its duty for the
night, and after the tumultuous emotional display a few hours before that,
they were both ready for compromises.
 

He played with her hair with one hand, the other still holding his
wineglass.  They were both silent for long minutes, staring at the flames
in the fireplace, just enjoying the feel of the other's body.
 

"You never called me Dana," she suddenly said.
 

He frowned, and tilted his head to look at her.   "What do you mean I never
called you Dana?"
 

She almost hit herself on the head for saying it.  "Well, not never.
Occasionally, you would.  But day to day I was always Scully and you were
always Mulder."
 

"That's ridiculous.  Why wouldn't I call you Dana?"
 

"I don't know.  I never asked you.  It took some getting used to, but I
did.  Even the other agents stopped calling me Dana."
 

He sighed wistfully, trying to read into her mind.  He detected a small
resentment and perhaps he was imagining it, but it had started to dawn on
him how emotionally detached he was to her as a partner.  She had told him
about all the times they had saved each other's lives, that once she had
broken down and cried in his arms and vice versa.
 

Obviously they had been through a lot - emotionally, physically,
spiritually - and yet, my god. what an idiot he had been.  Had he been
there when she needed him, not as a partner but as a friend?  A REAL
friend?  Held her and told her how important she was to him, called her
just to make sure she was okay, or provided a shoulder to cry on?
 

Her cool detachment as she recounted their adventures and exploits made him
conclude an emphatic no.
 

"I was a lousy partner, wasn't I?"
 

Scully could hear his breathing tempo increase.  "No, no.  You were - are -
always brilliant.  You showed me things, taught me things that opened up
new worlds.  And you always managed to be there when it counted the most."
 

"Good partner, lousy friend."
 

She closed her eyes.  She hadn't even told him about her cancer.  "You
saved my life."
 

"So did you," he shot back almost defensively.
 

Should she tell him?  Would it make a difference?  The consequences of
telling him were indeterminable.  Frohike had told her of breaking into the
fertility clinic, and some of their other covert and dangerous actions.
Mulder had risked his life, and theirs, to find a cure.  Frohike had made
her promise not to tell him of their conversation.   During her ignorance,
it was excusable not to have thanked him, but when she found out, excuses
had run out.
 

She smoothed the cloth of his shirt, as if trying to calm the beating heart
underneath even before it increased its tempo below her ear.  "I had cancer."
 

She felt him tense suddenly, the muscles in every part of his body in
contact with hers flexing.  "Had?"
 

She nodded.  "You found the cure."
 

Scully didn't have any expectations for a reaction.  But his caught her
off-guard.  His arms formed bands of steel around her, crushing her to his
chest.
 

Fox buried his face into her hair, weeping heavily, as his hands ran over
her back.  Grasping, clenching, searching and trapping.  Anyway he could
assure himself that what she had told him was the god-honest 100% truth.
 

He sobbed and cried hard, letting it all out.  He wanted her to know how
much he cared about her.
 

Dana gently pushed herself away from his chest, and exchanged places with
him.  It was her turn to hug him and comfort him.  "You found the cure,
Fox.  Thank you."
 

"Dana," he choked.  "What would I have done if I lost you?"
 

Scully didn't say anything.  There were no answers to those kinds of
questions.
 

-------------
Thursday
-------------
 

Scully could pinpoint the exact moment the very sight of Fox made her
irritable.  One minute she realized that he looked exactly like the Mulder
she had met 5 years ago, and she fell apart.
 

He'd been sprawled on her bed, his legs hanging over the side, one arm
flung back bracing his head.  A remote control was on his chest and he was
watching TV.  It was the exact position she'd seen countless times during
their ratty motel days, and it hit too close to home.
 

Fox had felt it even before Dana could understand what was wrong with her.
Living with her had attuned his senses to her every feeling, thought and
emotion.  His gut instinct told him to back off, or risk getting his balls
shredded into tiny strips.
 

He was saddened at this sudden attitude change towards him, and with a
unique certainty knew that it was because of her reservations of him
turning back into Mulder.
 

He tried to stay out of her way as best as he could, but he missed her too
damn mu