By XFScully
xfscully@aol.com
 

When I first watched "The Ehrlenmeyer Flask," I was still offline and cut off
from other Philes -- in other words, I feared I had just seen the end of one of
my favorite shows.  I was very disappointed -- as good an episode as that was,
I couldn't bear to think of it all ending that way.  I thought up my own version
of how I would have "liked" to see the show wrap up.  Later, of course, I
learned that the show would return, and tossed this idea out of my mind.  A few
weeks ago, though, I decided to put a different spin on it and turn it into this
story.  As you might suspect, it doesn't really take place within the framework
of the show -- it's just one way things might have happened.
All the standard disclaimers apply: all characters are the property of the Fox
network, and creations of Chris Carter.  No copyright infringement is intended,
although characters are used without permission.  I authorize distribution of this
story to whomever and wherever, as long as it remains in its original form and
I am credited as the author.  Any and all comments would be VERY welcome; send
praise or flames to xfscully@aol.com.

******
GUARDIAN
by XFScully
Part One
******

McCrory College Department of Physics
Jonquil, South Carolina
November 21, 1999

     Kellie sat at the desk, chewing gum and flipping through the latest issue
of Mademoiselle.  There was some filing she could be doing, but work-study did
NOT pay enough to get her started on a new project at twenty minutes to five.
She heard heavy footsteps thudding toward the door and rolled her eyes.  GREAT
-- with her luck, this was another professor wanting an exam typed up at the
last possible minute.  Kellie turned her attention back to the "Will He Come
Back?" quiz; maybe she could get the points tallied before whoever it was got
there --
     A moment later, an FBI badge was pushed between the magazine and her
face.  Startled, she looked up to see two agents standing right in front of her.
The one holding the badge said, "We need to speak to the head of the
department.  Is she in?"
     "Um, oh, yeah, she's here.  Last door on your left.  I'll just buzz her --"
Kellie's voice trailed off as the two agents strode down the hallway.  Man, oh
man, she thought.  What would the FBI be doing here in Jonquil?
     "Come on in," a voice called from within the office, just before they could
knock.  The man with the badge raised an eyebrow at his companion, and opened
the door.
     The office was rather plainly furnished; an old wooden desk, battered
chairs, a heavily laden bookshelf taking up an entire wall.  The only things that
seemed at all expensive were the top-of-the-line computer and the crystal frame
holding a picture of a young woman and a baby.  Besides that, the only
decoration was a poster of Albert Einstein, captioned "Mathematics cannot explain
people falling in love."  The head of the McCrory College Physics Department sat
in her chair, hands steepled, with an eyebrow raised at her visitors.
     "Dr. Dana Scully?" one of the agents asked.
     "Yes, it's me," she replied evenly.  "And I thought I'd seen the last of the
FBI.  What brings you to my door?"
     "I'm Agent Kavyas, and this is Agent Dyer. We need to speak to you about
a former associate of yours, Fox Mulder."
     At that name, her face darkened.  Dyer, the younger agent, was surprised
-- during the sketchy preliminary briefing, he'd been told they were partners.
But her expression was so hard, so remote --
     "Former associate.  Well, that's one way to put it.  What specifically do you
need to know?  Has he sent me any postcards lately? No ---"
     "Dr. Scully, this is a sensitive matter.  Please take this a little more
seriously."
     At Kavyas' words, Scully flushed with anger; for a moment, Dyer feared she
would throw them both out of the office.  But she calmed herself and replied, "I
do take it seriously, Agent Kavyas.  If we're going to talk at length about this,
it's better we go somewhere else.  I try to keep tales of my -- shall we say --
colorful past out of the campus gossip.  Come to my house in about an hour.
That will give me time to finish up here."  With that, she turned back to her
work as if they had already left.
     Kavyas cocked an eyebrow at Dyer and nodded to the door.  As they left,
Dyer realized she hadn't given them the address of her home.  She obviously
understood they already knew precisely where it was.

***

     While her home was a tiny, somewhat worn old house, Dyer couldn't help
admiring her view -- Dr. Scully's living room faced a wide expanse of coastline.
She stood in front of that bay window now, her back to them and her eyes
turned toward the sea.  She'd changed from her professional clothes into blue
jeans and a cream-colored flannel shirt, and loosed her red hair so that it fell
freely past her shoulders; yet she somehow carried the same aura of command
that she had in her office.  "I admit, I'm curious about this visit.  The bureau
investigated Mulder's disappearance rather thoroughly when it happened.  I have
to give Walter Skinner a lot of credit; he spent a lot of money and manhours
searching for him.  But as I told them at the time, it was no use.  Do I have to
convince you of that all over again?"
     Kavyas paused a long moment before answering.  "When Mr. Mulder
vanished in -- I believe it was October of 1997 -- you told the local officials and
the FBI that you thought he was the subject of an alien abduction."
     Scully turned, smiling brightly and artificially.  "I certainly did.  Have a
problem with that?"
     "Not at all, Dr. Scully.  I have reason to believe you.  I also have reason
to believe -- though I cannot be certain -- that those responsible for taking Mr.
Mulder away may now be willing to bring him back."
     The smile evaporated from Scully's face; she turned back towards the sea
for a moment, in a futile attempt to hide her shock from the agents.  Kavyas
kept his pleasure to himself; he'd been sent here to ensure her cooperation.
Telling her that Mulder might be returned was supposed to be a last option,
exercised only if she would share her information with them no other way.  But
the level of anger she'd directed at them had confirmed his suspicions: Dana
Scully had too much reason to distrust the government to follow them now.  She
needed incentive; this would provide it.
     "Why would they return him?" Dana whispered, trying to keep her voice
from trembling.
     "They want something from us, Dr. Scully.  But we aren't precisely certain
what that something is.  It may be connected with the research the two of you
were doing before his abduction; we're hoping that you can shed some light on
the subject."
     She nodded slowly, fingering the cross around her neck.  "Nothing
immediately springs to mind -- but I'll tell you everything.  Anything, if it means
getting him home."  Dana turned from the window and sat on the sofa, facing the
agents squarely.  "Where should we begin?"
     Dyer shrugged.  "Perhaps when you and Mr. Mulder decided to leave the
Bureau -- that's where our records end."
     It was all Dana could do to keep from laughing at that; she knew full well
the Bureau, and certain other organizations, had kept some form of watch over
them ever since their resignations in the summer of 1996.  But, just this once,
the more she told them, the better --
     "Our decision to leave wasn't really based on our paranormal research.
Rather, it was inspired by one of our few 'regular' cases; Skinner pulled us from
the X-Files to track a serial killer of small children."  Scully noted, with dry
amusement, that Dyer swallowed hard at that.  This one *is* young, she thought,
before continuing.
     "You get used to seeing some horrible things in the line of duty. You try
to prepare yourself against every eventuality.  But there are some things you
cannot guard against."
 

***
 

Locke Station, Iowa
March 1, 1996

     "Oh, my God," Scully breathed as she walked into the den.  Mulder,
stepping beneath the police tape behind her, froze in horror as he, too, took in
the crime scene.
     A young girl, perhaps 3 years old, had been tied, spreadeagled, to the
wreath that hung above the mantel.  Her throat had been slashed; blood obscured
her face, and was pooled on the hearth below.  On the sofa nearby lay the ropes
that had bound her horrified parents.  While the agents stood there silently, the
Locke Station police chief began speaking quietly.
     "Mr. and Mrs. Williams woke up on the sofa -- how he got them there, I
don't know.  Lauren was -- she was already dead.  They couldn't move or get
free at all; it was about two hours before their neighbor happened to come by."
     Scully finally found her voice.  "That fits his M.O.  He drugs the parents
for freedom of movement, kills the child, creates some bizarre display, and then
leaves the parents bound so that they are forced to witness it when they
awaken."
     The police chief shook his head slowly.  "How many times has he done
this?"
     "Seven," Mulder answered, his voice rough.  Scully shot him a look; this
case was wearing on them both, but Mulder was taking it particularly badly.
Today he looked drawn and pale, his eyes remote.  She reached out with one
hand to touch his shoulder, but he turned from it, and got to work.
     During the taking of the trace evidence, they moved quietly and surely --
Scully felt stronger when she was doing something productive towards catching
this monster, and supposed Mulder did as well.  But her illusions about his
steadiness were shortlived.
     "The ambulance is here," the sheriff called.
     Dana nodded, and motioned to Mulder and the deputies.  "We need to get
her down now, so they can take her to the morgue."
     Mulder, seemingly impassive, moved from his fingerprinting at the doorway
to help the taller deputy lift the wreath from its nails.  His face remained a still
mask until they lowered the sad burden to the floor -- and a lock of dark hair
fell over the little girl's face.
     "Jesus Christ!" he whispered; Scully tried to catch his arm again, but he
duckled away from her and stumbled out of the house.  The deputies stared after
him, startled, then looked back to Scully to see what to do.
     "Just -- just get her to the morgue.  Don't disturb anything; I'll be doing
this autopsy, and I'll be there soon.  I'm going to go after him."
     She ran into the yard -- a deputy stationed at the door jerked his head
to the left.  Looking in that direction, Scully could see Mulder sitting on the
ground about 30 yards away, his face in his hands.
     By the time she had stolen to his side, Mulder was attempting to dry
himself off; yet his face was still ashen and drawn.  Scully took his hands in her
own.  "I know it's hard, Mulder --"
     "Hard, hell.  It's impossible.  I just can't stop seeing her --" His voice
trembled into silence again.  Dana squeezed his hands, knowing full well that
Mulder wasn't speaking of any of the little girls they'd seen in this case.
"Scully, when I see what this monster has done to them I try to tell myself that
it *isn't* her, but how do I know that what happened to Sam isn't a thousand
times *worse* than this --"
     "Stop it, Mulder.  Don't do this to yourself.  Samantha's alive.  And
someday, we are going to find her -- no matter how long it takes.  You believe
that as much as I do.  You have to keep believing it."  Scully was surprised at
the strength in her voice, and at the small answering smile she won from Mulder.
Only much later would she realize that it was the first time she had spoken of
the search for Samantha as if it were her mission as much as his own.
     "I still believe, Scully.  I do.  I just don't know how much longer I can
go on this way."
     It took a moment for the full meaning of his words to sink in.  "You mean,
work on serial killings?  Hopefully, we're going to get this man soon, and then
we can go back to --"
     "No, Scully.  I don't know if I can even face the prospect of doing this
again."
     "Damnit, Mulder, this is our job!  It may not the same for me, but if you
think I don't have any trouble seeing little children cut to ribbons --" Her own
voice choked up, and she rolled her eyes in frustration.  Great, she thought, the
sheriff calls for expert federal help and he's going to walk out here and find two
sobbing FBI agents on the lawn.
     Mulder pulled her hands to his face, comforting her now.  "I'm sorry,
Scully.  I'll get myself together and we'll get back in there.  I won't let my
emotions get in the way of this case again, okay?"
     She nodded, but sat looking into his eyes for a moment longer.  "You
really mean it, don't you?  You're considering leaving the Bureau."
     "Considering.  That's all."
     "But -- " (But what about us?  You'd just leave me, walk away --) "But
what about your paranormal research?  How would you keep going without the
Bureau's resources?"
     Dana was surprised to see his face split in one of his rueful grins.  "Leave
it to you to find the hole in my plan, Scully.  C'mon, let's get back in there."
 

***
 

     Scully took a moment to study her audience; Kavyas was clearly bored and
impatient -- this had nothing to do with what he wanted to know.  Dyer,
however, was leaning forward, listening raptly.  She hoped to make them see
Mulder as a person, to feel something for him, to regard him as something other
than a pawn in their bizarre chess game.  Kavyas was, perhaps, unreachable.
But Dyer -- it might not be too late for him.
     Kavyas took advantage of the pause to cut in, "Records say you brought
Michael Mills into custody by early March of that year.  Yet you remained in the
Bureau until May."
     She nodded -- then started, as the back door slammed.  Dyer instinctively
reached for his weapon, but Scully waved him off.  A young woman -- Dyer
recognized her from the office photo -- jogged into the room.
     "Hey, Dana; oh, I didn't realize you had, um, company."
     "It's okay.  What's up?"
     "I was going to take Rebecca to grab some ice cream; I thought maybe
you'd like to come along."
     "In November?" Dyer raised an eyebrow, but he was smiling at the pretty
woman -- who didn't seem to mind the attention. She lifted her head up and
crossed her arms in mock defiance.
     "I firmly believe that there is NO wrong time for Mint Chocolate Chip.
Except maybe now, huh, Dana?"
     Scully smiled.  "I tell you what; bring me back a pint, okay?"
     "Got it," she nodded, and bounded back out of the room.
     "She didn't seem that surprised to see us," Kavyas noted.
     "Since Mulder' disappearance, my friends have become used to seeing
investigators around.  Now, where were we?"
     "You were still in the Bureau.  Now, what research were you pursuing that
prompted you to leave?" Kavyas leaned forward expectantly.
     Hate to disappoint you, Scully thought, but she settled back into the sofa
to tell her story.  "It wasn't as simple as one line of research, Agent Kavyas. We
went back to paranormal cases after that, but the Mills murders had taken a lot
out of us both.  Although he never mentioned it to me, I knew that Mulder's
committment to the Bureau was gone."
 

***
 

Washington, D.C.
May 14, 1996

     Scully realized the noodles were boiling over -- had been for a couple of
seconds, despite the fact that she was standing right over them.  "Damnit!" she
muttered, stirring them back down.  Her mind was too full at the moment to
handle cooking on top of it all; thank God she'd gotten the pesto ready-made.
New axiom, she silently declared: never make major life decisions while you're
also making dinner.
     The knock at the door startled her so badly she dropped the spoon into
the water.  "Great," she sighed, trying to ignore the fact that her heart was
suddenly beating twice as fast.  He'd come by even earlier than she'd imagined;
any decision she was going to make had to be made now.
     She opened the door to see Mulder standing there -- as she had known
she would; the collar of his trenchcoat was turned up against the drizzling rain.
He raised his face to hers slowly, as if frightened of her reaction; yet Dana just
smiled easily, as if this were any other day he'd dropped by.
     "You're just in time for dinner -- you do like pesto, don't you?"
     "Oh, uh, yeah.  Sure do."  Still, Fox stood there, unable to actually step
into the house.
     "Well, get in here, before you catch your death," she gently scolded,
shooing him through the doorway.  While he divested himself of the soaking coat
and shoes, Scully set another place at her tiny dinner table and poured them a
little wine.  We're both gonna need it, she mused.
     They started eating without saying anything else; Mulder, no doubt, was
looking for words.  Scully was going over and over her options, realizing there
was only one decision she could make.
     "Scully, I -- I guess you heard."
     "Yes, I did.  Skinner was kind enough to come and tell me, since you
didn't even leave a note."  She understood why he'd done that, understood it
better than he could ever explain it -- but the hurt was still in her voice.
     "Scully -- Dana, I'm sorry.  I had to do this."
     She looked up towards the ceiling, trying to remain calm.  "I knew you'd
been thinking about leaving the Bureau, Mulder.  But if you were going to
resign, you could have warned me.  Prepared me for it instead of just packing
up all your stuff while I was at lunch, for God's sake."
     "I know.  I know.  It just hurt too much to face coming to you; I was
afraid you'd talk me out of it.  And I knew I had to do this. Scully, I've got a
chance to keep doing paranormal research. With even more resources and freedom
than I've had at the Bureau.  I couldn't pass that up, not even for -- not for
anything."
     What *were* you going to say, Mulder? she wondered.  He took her hand
in his own as he continued. "I want you to know one thing; if I didn't believe,
absolutely, that we could remain close without working together, I wouldn't have
done this.  But we can, right?  I haven't screwed that up --?"
     Dana shook her head, but still refused to meet his eyes.  "No, Mulder.
We've been friends through tougher circumstances than simply not sharing an
office.  I just wish you had told me, that you'd trusted me to understand your
decision and support it."
     Mulder sat quietly for a moment, weighing her words.  "You're right," he
finally said.  "This was cowardly of me.  I apologize."
     "Apology accepted.  Just don't ever do that again." She looked down into
his face at last, and was somewhat surprised at the depth of the grateful relief
in his eyes.
     They remained like that for a long moment, staring into each other's gaze,
holding hands -- until Fox broke eye contact, blushing slightly.  "Um -- this
really is a spectacular opportunity, Dana."
     "Tell me about it," she said, leaning back in her chair a little.  *This*
should be good, she thought.
     "Are you familiar with McCrory College?  Specifically, the founder, Martha
McCrory?"
     The millionairess had a familiar name; she'd endowed libraries and museums
in several cities, including D.C.  Scully nodded, and added, "Never really saw you
as a teacher, Mulder."
     Fox shrugged.  "I think I'll enjoy going back to academia -- but teaching
psychology is only a small part of why I'm going to McCrory College. It turns out
that, when Martha McCrory was a girl, she had a paranormal experience -- she
travelled outside her body for a long period of time.  She told others about it;
instead of being believed, she was treated for hysteria."
     Dana nodded again.  "And now that's she old and rich, and therefore
qualified to be 'eccentric' instead of crazy, she's determined to prove that there
are things in this world beyond the knowledge of man."
     "That's what she said," Fox agreed -- then paused for a moment.
"Actually, that's *exactly* what she said --"
     "I know, because she said it to me, too.  You see, Mrs. McCrory is of the
opinion that you'll need a partner, and she'd like it to be me. And, barring any
objections from you, I've decided to accept her offer."  There -- she'd said it.
Dana felt a little dizzy; within the course of a few hours, she'd decided to totally
change her life, and it was overwhelming.  But she also felt incredibly free --
     Mulder sat across from her wearing such a blank expression of shock that
she could've laughed.  After a moment, he shook his head.  "No, Dana.  I can't
let you do this."
     "Since when do you get to 'let me' do anything, Mulder?  I'm capable of
making my own decisions -- and unless you don't want me for your partner --"
     "No, no!  It's not that, not that at all. But you've got a future in the
Bureau, especially without me and the X-Files hanging around your neck.  I
never fit in there; it's something of a relief to be able to leave.  It's different
for you. No matter how much I might want you with me, I can't let you throw
away your career for that --"
     "Mulder, from now on, when you come in my house, check your ego at the
door.  I do want our partnership to continue, but I *wouldn't* leave the Bureau
only to stay with you."  Tempted though I might be, she thought but did not
say.  "Some of the things I've seen these last few years have shaken me, Mulder.
Shaken all my preconceived notions.  I can't explain them, and I have to try.
Don't you see, Mulder?  I can't push these experiences away as if they never
happened.  I have to seek my *own* truth now -- "
     He nodded.  "I understand, Scully.  I really do."  After a silent second,
he gave her one of his most rogueish grins.  "And the fact that we'll still be
together --"
     "Just the frosting on the cake, Mulder."

***

     "The two of you weren't just partners, then," Dyer cut in.
     "No -- we were very close friends. "
     Dyer paused.  That wasn't what he had been expecting.  "Just friends?
Not --?"
     "Agent Dyer, I'm shocked," Scully said, lifting her hand to her chest in
mock horror.  "You certainly know as well as I do that Bureau agents aren't
supposed to be romantically involved with one another, particularly if they work
together.  Or have they changed that?"
     "No, no -- they haven't --" Dyer was embarassed and a little flustered.
Kavyas cut in, his voice grating with impatience.
     "Your *research,* Dr. Scully?"
     "Sorry if I've been wandering on a bit -- this sort of thing is just *much*
more interesting than the research."
     "It's the research that we need to trade for Mr. Mulder; I should think
that fact would interest you enough."  Kavyas' glare communicated much to her;
he realized what she was doing, trying to pull Dyer into the story.  Dyer
obviously had already been told a fair amount; he hadn't blinked an eye when
she'd spoken about Samantha, so he must know that much of their story, at least.
But Dana needed to get past the details, involve him personally.  And no matter
how much Kavyas might snap at her, she knew she had to try it.  Dyer was
reachable; he was so young.
     Krycek had been young.
     Scully shook off a tremor of remembered fear, then got to the point.  "We
taught psychology and physics, respectively, at McCrory College.  We both
actually enjoyed the academic part of our job.  The paranormal research,
however, was our main responsibility, and we covered any number of areas. Yet
I think I know the line of research that set all of this into motion."

***

Panola County General
Batesville, Miss
August 23, 1997

     And I thought South Carolina got hot in the summers, Scully thought,
wiping her forehead with the sleeve of her lab coat.  Sweat had been trickling
down the the ridge of her safety goggles, itching horribly and adding to her
impatience as the test blotting slowly scrolled out of the machine.  Now, though,
as the data peeled out in front of her, the Mississippi heat seemed to vanish.
"Oh, my God, Mulder.  Look at this."
     "It showed up again?" Mulder turned from his laptop across the room to
run to her side.
     "Here it is.  The genetic marker is identical to the ones we've seen in
Maine and California and Wisconsin.  I'm willing to bet that this shows up on the
Nebraska trip as well."
     "This is amazing," Mulder sighed, lifting the data sheet up into the
sunlight.  It had been Scully's brainstorm to do genetic mapping of all abductees;
of the ones whose stories they believed, almost 100% shared this genetic
subpattern.  "We actually have evidence of what the aliens have done to them."
     "No, Mulder, we don't."  He glanced over at her, surprised.  Dana took a
deep breath before continuing.  "I also ran a couple of tests on family members
of abductees.  They often share this pattern.  It's inherited, not created."
     Mulder slumped in disappointment, but Scully shook her head.  "This isn't
a setback, Mulder -- it's just not the data we were searching for.  It may be
even better."  Here I am, encouraging *him* about alien research, she thought
bemusedly.  But Dana saw no point in denial after the hard data was in front of
her -- as it was now.
     "What do you mean?" The letdown had, at least temporarily, clouded Fox's
imagination.  Scully shook his shoulder in frustration.
     "Mulder, don't you see?  We have found this inherited pattern in almost
all the abductees.  But it is shared by only 5 or 6 percent of the general
population."
     She paused a moment while that sunk in.  Finally, he added, "So, that
means that this pattern -- this is what the aliens are looking for."
     "Perhaps.  Perhaps something about this pattern facilitates their tests.  Or
there could be some other motivating factor we can't guess.  But this is
important, Mulder; I'm sure of it."  She waited for another moment before
continuing.  "Mulder -- I ran this test on you."
     "What?"
     "Your genetic map remains on file at the FBI, and I still have enough
friends there to get a copy.  You share this subpattern.  That means that,
probably --"
     "Samantha did too."  They were both quiet for a long time after that; for
the first time, Mulder had a reason for his sister's disappearance.  Not much of
a reason -- and no explanation -- but it was the first definite clue he'd ever
gotten.
     In an attempt to lighten the moment, Scully finally added, "Just for the
record, I don't have it.  Guess that's why they threw me back, huh?"
     Mulder rewarded her efforts with a smile, but after a second they were
both, once again, totally fixed on the data before them.

***

     "Do you still have a copy of this data, of the genetic subpattern?" Kavyas
was into the story *now,* she noted wryly.
     "Think carefully about this, Agent Kavyas.  The genetic subpattern can't
be what they want.  They obviously can detect that, and obtain it, quite well on
their own." Scully folded her arms and watched him while that sank in.  I hope
he feels half as foolish as he looks, she decided.
     "But you think that there is some aspect of that research they would trade
for," Dyer prodded.
     "It's got to be something to do with that; we kept working on it all
through the fall.  And it's what we were working on when Mulder disappeared."
Scully bit her lip; she could talk about most memories fairly easily now.  But the
days surrounding his abduction were difficult --
     "Can you be any more specific, Dr. Scully?"
     "Actually, no; right around the time of the abduction, I hadn't been feeling
very well.  Mulder was running the show on his own for a change."
     Oh, God, that last morning.  He'd begged off breakfast -- breakfasting
together was usually one of the highlights of the day -- and ducked out the
door.  He'd barely looked at her, and she hadn't thought twice about it,
stumbling around the house tired and ill.  Had he said anything as he walked out
that door?  Had she?  It all seemed so mundane and forgettable at the time,
nothing to take special notice of. Dana had replayed the scene in her head night
after night; each time, she wanted to somehow reach backwards through time and
shake herself into doing something differently.  Talk to him, damnit; make him
hang around.  Find out why he's leaving so early, so quietly.  Don't let him
leave -- tie him to the chair if you have to.  Or if you can't do anything else,
at least *notice* what's happening.  Make this last memory more vivid, more
meaningful.  God, I would have paid more attention, if I had known.
     Scully realized she was tearing up; Dyer offered her a handkerchief, all
courtesy and awkwardness.  She took it, but made herself focus on Kavyas --
his searching, merciless stare did more to dry her tears.  "I'm sorry," Dyer
murmured.  "I realize this is hard for you."
     "You have no idea, Agent Dyer."
     The back door slammed again; the young woman from before entered the
room, carrying a pint of ice cream in one hand and balancing a baby on her hip
with the other.  Dyer recognized the child, perhaps a little over a year old, from
the office photograph as well.  "Still here?" the woman asked brightly.
     "Yes -- but it's not like the other times. You need to know something; this
isn't just another investigation.  These men may be able to help us get Fox
home."
     The young woman froze.  "You mean -- oh, God, you're kidding."
     "Please, Sam, would I kid about something like that?"
     It took a moment for that to sink in.  Then Dyer whispered, "Sam.
Samantha.  You're Mulder's sister?"
     Samantha nodded absently.  "Dana, what do we have to do to get him
back?"
     "I'm not sure, honey; we'll find out.  Whatever it is, we'll manage it."
     Dyer was amazed, and unashamed of showing it.  "This is incredible.  You
were supposed to be the victim of an alien abduction yourself.  When did you
return?  How did it happen?"
     Her lower lip trembled as she replied, "I was returned a little over two
years ago -- when my brother agreed to take my place."  Sam choked up a little
at the last, and handed the baby to Dana.  "Here, Rebecca; go to Mama."  With
that, she ran upstairs to collect herself.
     Dana folded her daughter against her chest, only looking up to meet Dyer's
wide eyes after a few long moments.  With some detached amusement she realized
that even Kavyas was openly surprised now.  Didn't have *that* in your files,
did you, she thought.
     "This is your daughter?" Dyer finally asked.
     "Yes, this is Rebecca.  Honey, can you say hi?"  The tiny girl looked at
Dyer for a few seconds more, then buried her face in the side of her mother's
neck.  Scully smiled.  "She's going through a shy phase right now.  Don't take
it personally."
     "This is Mr. Mulder's daughter," Kavyas added.  Not a question -- a
statement of fact.
     "Yes."  Scully rearranged herself on the sofa, so as to both face the
agents and cradle her child.  "As you can see -- there's still a lot more to this
than you know."
 

********************
GUARDIAN
Part II
by Amy Vincent
********************

     The three of them sat in silence for a few seconds.  Finally, Dyer cleared
his throat.  "You haven't been totally honest with us, Dr. Scully."
     "Everything that I told you is true," she replied, smoothing her daughter's
auburn hair as she spoke.
     "Not precisely," Kavyas pointed out.  "You told us that you and Agent
Mulder were only friends, and shared no romantic relationship.  You're now
holding rather tangible proof that this wasn't the case.  It makes me wonder
what else you may not have disclosed to us."
     "Think back to our earlier conversation; Agent Dyer thought that we were
romantically involved while we were still at the Bureau.  We weren't -- contrary
to popular rumor."  And probably to a notation in those files of yours, Scully
mused.  "Mulder and I broke FBI rules from time to time, and Skinner would let
us get away with it.  But dating?  Skinner was a hard-liner about that.
Although we never actually discussed the subject, we both understood that
getting involved would mean that *one* of us was going to get transferred.  And
it was important to stay together, and to work together.  After we left the FBI,
we didn't have to worry about that any more."
     Listen to me, she thought.  I say that so smoothly, so easily, as if there
were nothing more to it.  Dana got up from the sofa, and walked to the window,
looking for a moment at the child in her arms.  The one with the achingly
familiar hazel eyes --
     She looked away, and out towards the sea.  Scully wanted to tell these
agents as much as she could, to help them understand her, perhaps to feel
something for her and for Mulder.  But some memories were too precious to
share.
 

***

Jonquil, South Carolina
December 8, 1996

     "Dana?"
     "Yes, Mulder?"
     "If I ever, ever, ever again think about giving an essay exam, just pick
up a gun and shoot me, okay?  Trust me, it's the merciful thing to do."  Fox
picked up a bluebook -- filled, without margins, by the scrawliest handwriting
Scully had ever seen, and in bright purple ink, no less.  She burst out laughing
-- after hours of grading her own physics exams, she was a little punchy.
     "Look on the bright side; it's still less paperwork than we had at the
Bureau," Dana reminded him, as she got up to stoke the fire.
     Mulder nodded, running his hand tiredly through his hair; he was on the
floor beside Dana's couch, propped up on cushions and surrounded by papers.
"You're right about that; still, sometimes I think it was easier getting inside the
minds of psychopaths than inside the minds of this freshman class."
     Scully chuckled again, settling herself back on the sofa among her own
exams.  "Getting inside the minds of my students seems like a snap, since I
learned how to understand you."
     He raised an eyebrow at that.  "Oh, really?  Are you inside my mind now,
Dr. Scully?" Mulder leaned forward onto the sofa, resting his chin on her knee.
     "Absolutely," she replied, holding his eyes with her own for a long moment.
Dana tried to ignore the little quaver of emotion in her stomach.  Don't be
stupid, it's just Mulder.  Your best friend.  The person you're closest to in the
entire world.  The man who's comforted you, cheered you, stood by you -- *stop*
it.  "Of course, there's not much *in* your mind to see --"
     Fox grinned and tossed a cushion at her.  She caught it, hurled it back
at him -- and sent the cushion spinning into his exams, scattering the pages
across the floor.  "Oh, no!  Mulder, I'm sorry."
     He just laughed.  "It's okay -- we can sort them easily.  I don't think any
two students used the same color ink."
     For the next few minutes, they crawled around the floor on hands and
knees, finding all the lost sheets.  They said nothing; Dana's mind was racing.
This keeps happening, she told herself.  When are you going to face it?
     There was no saying precisely when she had fallen in love with him.  No
sudden revelations or moments of reckoning.  Yet within the first year of their
partnership, Dana had known that she could never love any other man as deeply
as she loved Fox Mulder.
     But now, 4 years after they'd met, they remained no more than friends.
Perhaps "no more than" is a bad phrase to use, she corrected herself.  Their
friendship was more intimate and powerful than many of the romantic
relationships she'd had.  It just wasn't enough anymore.
     Friendship had been the only choice in the beginning; Scully wasn't so
unprofessional as to act on an attraction for her new partner.  By the time her
feelings had deepened, the issue had become far more complex.  They relied on
each other completely by that point -- the danger of being reassigned was far
more threatening.
     Yet none of that explained why, almost 7 months after leaving the Bureau,
the two of them had exchanged no more than friendly hugs and the occasional
kiss on the cheek.  Neither of them had ever pressed for more, or done more
than their usual flirting.  For herself, Scully knew, the issue was fear -- she
could not bear the thought of Fox Mulder leaving her life.   Nothing could
destroy their friendship, but a romance -- that could go wrong, go horribly
wrong, and then what would be left?  Dana felt, instinctively, that the ugliest
breakup in the world wouldn't keep Fox from her side if she needed him -- but
it could keep them from seeing each other every day.  From the easy intimacy
they both thrived on.  That she wasn't willing to lose.
     But am I willing to *risk* it?  Don't know -- and it doesn't look like Fox
does either.
     "Scully?"  She jerked her head up, realized she'd just been sitting on the
floor now for a few moments.
     "Oh, sorry, Mulder.  This is the last of them -- " Dana handed the final
bluebook to him -- as she did so, he caught her hand and held it.  Surprised,
she looked up into his eyes. He seemed troubled, his eyes darkened by some
sudden emotion.  "What's the matter?"
     "It's just -- this," he said, reaching out with his other hand to touch the
tiny cross around her neck.  "The firelight caught it for a moment there, and
it -- reminded me.  That's all."  Fox sighed deeply, and let his hand rest against
the exposed skin around the necklace.  Dana's heart quickened; she felt certain
he would be able to feel her pulse humming beneath those fingertips. "It's been
over two years since you were back home safely; still, sometimes, the fear comes
back to me as if it were yesterday.  And being able to look up and see you
beside me is the greatest gift -- "
     Dana leaned forward into his arms, embracing him gently.  Should I say
what I've been feeling?  Tell him everything, take the chance?  I don't want to
have my logic overruled by my hormones, I want to be reasonable -- oh, God,
he's kissing my neck.
     Which he was, his lips softly grazing her throat.  She pulled back for a
moment to look into his eyes again; Mulder let out another deep sigh.  "Scully,
if you don't -- want this to happen, just tell me straight and I can take it, no
problem --"
     And he could take it.  He would brush it off with a joke, go back to
grading the papers easily and casually, and never, ever, offer again.  This is it,
she realized.  I have to decide.
     "Don't act like you have to be careful about my feelings -- "  Dana cut off
his words with a kiss, gentle and quick, barely brushing his mouth.
     "I will be careful with your feelings, Mulder.  Be careful with mine, too,
okay?"
     He nodded, then leaned down slowly, as if still uncertain of her reaction.
Scully touched his cheek with her fingertips, tilting his face slightly. Fox's lips
brushed gently against hers. Then again. And again. Finally, he took her chin
in his hand as his mouth settled possessively atop hers, the desire they'd held
in check for years building to a passion beyond controlling. Not that she wanted
to control it --
     Mulder's kisses turned hard, hot, consuming.  Wonderfully arousing.  Scully
loved the taste of him, the way his mouth slanted over hers time and time again,
the low groan in the back of his throat as she pulled him still closer.  After a
moment, he pulled away, breathing hard.  "Dana -- I don't want to rush you --"
     She laughed through her own gasps and ruffled his hair affectionately.
"You call making your move after almost 5 years rushing things?  Thank God you
didn't decide to take things slowly."
     Fox smiled almost bashfully as he leaned forward to kiss her again.  "Good
point."
     Her memories of their first lovemaking were always somewhat blurred; it
was something she'd fantasized about so often for so long, that sometimes during
that night it seemed almost unreal -- as if one of her dreams were spinning
itself out around her.  But she remembered vividly the feel of those first kisses,
the weight of his body, the shadows the firelight created on his skin.  In one
moment of lucidity, Scully wondered how many people could ever experience a
night like this -- she and Mulder shared both the complete acceptance and trust
of longtime lovers, and the exquisite thrill of the first time in each other's arms.
Utter security and tender revelation.
     When finally he lay spent by her side, holding her close, stroking her hair,
she felt as if the powerful emotions between them had somehow taken on fuller
substance.  Had become yet more real.  As if their love was a tangible, living
thing she could hold close to her.

***

     Dana folded her arms still more tightly around her tiny daughter.  She
blinked away the last of her tears, and turned back to the agents behind her.
Although she had stared out that window only a moment, Scully felt as if she'd
removed herself from events too completely.  Concentrate, she reminded herself.
Enough of the mushy stuff.  If Dyer's going to be sympathetic, he is by now.
If not -- best you work with them as well as you can.
     "Samantha?"  she called.  After a second, Sam reappeared in the stairwell;
she was still teary, but had collected herself somewhat.  "Honey, take Rebecca
upstairs; she's sleepy and I'm going to be busy down here for a while yet."
     Samantha nodded, and moved to take her niece from Dana.  "What do they
know?  What's happened, Dana?  Are we really going to get Fox back home?"
     "I'm not sure of any of that, Sam.  But I'll let you know as soon as I do,
all right?"  The dark-haired woman nodded and scooped the tiny girl into her
arms.  Scully noticed that Dyer's eyes followed Samantha all the way up the
stairs -- I think baby sister has an admirer, she thought bemusedly.
     Kavyas cleared his throat.  "Very well; you and Mr. Mulder did not begin
a romantic relationship until after you left the Bureau.  I'll accept that you've
been honest about that much of the story, Dr. Scully.  But I do have to wonder
whether or not you've been totally honest about your work in the days
immediately preceding his abduction."
     "Perhaps I have been less than candid, Agent Kavyas.  But I wasn't
attempting to mislead you.  Those days are difficult to discuss, but I'll do my
best."  Dana took a moment to further compose herself - to make herself ready
to discuss the darkest day of her life.
     "I was being quite honest when I told you that I wasn't involved with
Mulder's work in the time period just before he was taken.  I had been feeling
badly; although I didn't know it yet, I was in the early days of my pregnancy."
A small sound from Dyer -- sympathy?  Hard to say.  Scully continued, "I only
put together what he'd been doing after he was gone."

***

Montrose Peak, North Carolina
October 11, 1997

     Dana ran up the steps of the hospital, frantic with worry.  Fox had been
missing for two days now; at first, she'd assumed he was in deep over his head
with his research -- frightening enough, remembering some of the past scrapes
he'd gotten himself into.  But as days had passed with no word, no sign, fear
had turned into panic.  Now, this oblique call from a police officer -- he'd given
her no explanation, just told her to come to this hospital.  Scully was enough of
a professional to understand what that usually meant; she was also desperate
enough to convince herself that it didn't mean that this time.  Fox isn't dead.
I would know it, somehow, if he were dead --
     She jogged up to the nurses' station.  "I'm Dana Scully; Officer Lee called
for me?"
     The nurse nodded.  "He's waiting for you in emergency."
     Emergency!  Her heart leapt.  If he's in emergency, he's still alive.  Thank
you, God, however he's injured we can deal with it, as long as he's alive.  She
hurried down the hallway to the door she'd been shown, now ready for anything.
     Or so she thought.
     As she burst through the door, several heads turned; a police officer
stepped towards her.  "Dana Scully?"
     "Yes, Officer Lee, it's me.  You've found Fox?"
     "No, ma'am."
     "What?  But I thought --"  Dana's heart was in her throat, choking her.
He's still missing after all.  Oh, Jesus.
     "Dr. Scully, we did find his car.  And his stuff in it -- briefcase, wallet,
all that.  But no sign of him.  It looks like a carjacking gone bad, I'm afraid."
     Dana blindly put a hand out towards the wall, in an attempt to steady
herself.  Not that, anything but a stupid, random, violent death.  She whispered
the only thing she could think of to say, "Why call me to the hospital, then?"
     The police officer shared a raised-eyebrow glance with the doctor nearest
him.  "Well, umm, I don't like telling you this, but we *did* find someone in the
car.  A woman," Lee said, voice dripping with something that wasn't quite
compassion.
     Scully straightened herself at that.  She knew Mulder well enough to know
he was faithful, even if this fool didn't.  Still, whoever this woman was, she
might know something -- "Is this woman injured?"
     Lee seemed impressed that the news hadn't shaken her.  "Not precisely,
no. But she seems to be in shock -- she's been almost catatonic since we found
her.  She just lies there, shaking, and doesn't even seem to realize anyone's
near her."  He gestured over to a screen, showed Scully through it.
     Dana stepped to the side of a young woman, perhaps her own age, with
long dark hair.  She was wearing an incredibly simple grey dress; at first Scully
assumed it was a hospital gown, but then realized it was something different.
The woman was trembling violently, and didn't notice Dana's presence.
     Scully studied the face for a long moment.  "She seems familiar --"
     The others around her, assuming this to be a woman confronting her
lover's mistress, kept watching curiously.  Scully kept looking at that face.  I
know I have seen her before.  I *know* it --
     Then it came to her.  From a photograph on Fox's desk, now years out of
date yet familiar.  From Fox's own face, lines and curves she knew by heart.
"Oh, my God.  Samantha."
     At that, the woman started -- and looked up at Dana.  Scully's mind was
racing; she realized at last what Mulder had done.  And that he was utterly lost
to her now.  Of course he would sacrifice himself for his beloved baby sister --
the same woman who looked up at Dana now, confused and terrified.  Scully tried
to give her a gentle smile.  "Samantha, honey, don't be afraid.  I'm a friend of
your brother's."
     "Fox?" Sam whispered, with a voice rough from disuse.  "Where's Fox?"
     Dana bowed her head, unable to hold the tears back any longer.  "I wish
I knew.  Oh, God, I wish I knew."  She squeezed Samantha's hand tighter.
     Behind her, Lee cleared his throat.  "Ma'am -- this is Mr. Mulder's sister?"
     Scully nodded.  He continued, "How come you didn't recognize her?
     "I've never seen her before."
     "She and Mr. Mulder didn't get along?"
     "No, that's not it at all."
     "Ma'am -- you seem to have figured out what's going on here.  Wish you'd
let me in on it."
     She actually laughed at that.  "I'll be more than happy to, Officer Lee.
Though I doubt it's exactly what you'll want to hear."
     Some time later, after Scully had explained UFO abductions to the officer
and then to a couple of concerned doctors, she sat alone by Sam's bed.  Mulder's
sister had fallen asleep, and rather peacefully too.  Dana leaned wearily back in
the chair, propping her feet up on the box of Mulder's possessions they'd taken
from the car.  Grief had yet to fully strike; at that moment, she felt lightheaded
and apathetic.  The clinical section of her mind recognized this as shock, but
that didn't change anything.
     "Well, Sam, how can I best while away the time until the white coats come
for me, hmm?"  She picked up her feet, pulled Mulder's briefcase out of the box.
Easier to go through this now, when it doesn't seem real, she decided.  She
opened it up -- his scribbled notepads, the bag of sunflower seeds, and all the
rest of his paraphenalia lay there.  Yet Dana was still beyond any pain, even
when she breathed in the whiff of his aftershave as the case opened.  "What
could you have been up to, Mulder?"
     She pulled up a couple of computer discs -- they were labeled "Bloodline,"
their name for the demographics project.  "Oh, I see," she sighed.  "No wonder
you stumbled into a UFO."

***

     "What was the Bloodline project?  What can you tell me about it?"  Kavyas
was completely alert now, perched on the edge of his seat.
     "It's not something so very interesting, I'm afraid.  I told you earlier that
we had identified a genetic subpattern common to most abductees.  'Bloodline' was
simply an attempt to link together those families and areas with abductions.  To
trace the genetic links the aliens seem so interested in.  It's not predictive or
anything -- but many sites and families have repeated abductions.  I suspect
that when Mulder went back to Montrose Peak for some data, he came into
contact with a returning ship."  Dana fell onto the sofa, pulling her knees up
against her chest and hugging them close.
     "So this project conveyed no new information, but simply explained what
the aliens had *already* done?" Dyer asked, his face falling.
     "That's right.  That means they couldn't possibly be after the Bloodline
project either.  But that's what he was working on at the end."
     Kavyas got up and looked oceanward himself; his frustration and anger
were obvious.  He's had to listen to my little stories for nothing, she thought.
Next to her, Dyer seemed puzzled.  "I don't understand.  You say Mulder ran
into these aliens accidentally --"
     "No -- that's what I assumed immediately after the abduction.  But once
Samantha had recovered enough to explain, she revealed that the aliens told her
days in advance that Fox was exchanging himself for her.  While the data don't
reveal anything predictive -- well, Mulder always knew how to play a hunch."
     "So he did know what he was going to do."
     "He knew what he hoped to do -- he couldn't have been certain they would
comply.  But as long as they had Mulder's version of the subpattern, his sister
was no longer a necessary subject."
     Kavyas turned back to them.  "Dr. Scully, I'd like to take the Bloodline
data back with me if I could.  While you say there's no predicting alien
movements from it, our computers might be able to pick up some subtle pattern."
     "I'm afraid I can't do that, Agent Kavyas.  You see, I destroyed the data."
     That took a moment to sink in.  "Destroyed it?"
     She nodded.  "After the first shock of Mulder's abduction passed, I got
angry.  Very angry.  I destroyed his computer disks along with a lot of his
stuff."  The "I Want To Believe" poster.  The Redskins jersey.  The sunflower
seeds.  Dana remembered tossing it into the fireplace, standing in almost the
same spot where they'd made love so long ago, her rage robbing her of the relief
of tears.
     "Why were you angry?" Dyer asked.
     Scully shook her head.  "Haven't you been listening to me?  Haven't you
heard any patterns here?"  She couldn't sit still any longer; she got up and
started pacing the floor, trying to burn off some of the angry energy returning
to her now as she thought of it all over again.
     "Mulder's quest.  I knew about it from our first case -- he told me about
Samantha, about his desire to find her, and said 'nothing else matters.'  I was
fool enough to believe that sometime over the last 5 years, *I* had begun to
matter. But when it came down to it, he left me.  Left me with a sister who
needed intensive therapy, with a baby on the way, with a job that had lost all
its meaning for me."  Dana slapped her hand against the windowsill in
frustration.
     "He would make decisions without telling me, letting me know what I could
or couldn't risk for his sake.  What I should and shouldn't know.  I asked him
*never* to do that again, and he promised that he wouldn't.  But he ended up
contacting aliens, making a deal, and leaving my life without speaking a word.
     "Don't misunderstand me -- I've come to love Sam as much as my own
sister.  She isn't a burden; in fact, I don't know how I would have made it
through the last two years without her.  I love Rebecca, and raising her alone
is better than not having her at all.  And I've done well for myself in the
physics department.  Yet in the end, I gave up everything I had known for the
man I loved and for a search for truth.  The man left me and that ended the
search.  I do still care about Mulder.  But I don't forgive him."
     "Yet you said you'd do anything to get him back --" Dyer cut in,
bewildered.
     "I would.  Samantha hasn't been able to explain everything that happened
to her, but I know that there's pain --- Oh, God.  It's not something I would
wish on anyone, much less the father of my child.  But wanting him to be safe
isn't the same thing as wanting him back in my life."  Her face was hard now,
her eyes dark -- Dyer recognized the angry expression as the same one she'd
worn in the office when they first mentioned Mulder's name.
     "There's nothing more you can tell us, Dr. Scully?"  Kavyas was back to
formal politeness now.  She'd been wrung dry.  No information.
     "No."
     "Why did you keep this going, then?  I was certain you were holding
something back."
     She met his eyes for only a moment.  "I was certain you were.  But it
doesn't seem there's anything I can do to help you."
     "Well then.  We apologize for taking up so much of your time; rest assured,
we will continue to take any steps we can to bring Mr. Mulder home."  Totally
slick and polished now, Kavyas smiled at her, fooling no one.  Dyer nodded at
her, quickly, and they left the house.
     Dana sat in the quiet for a minute, trying to clear her head of rage and
pain.  In a minute, she'd go up to Rebecca's room and watch her daughter sleep,
the sweetest and most comforting thing she knew.  Then she'd explain things
much better for poor Samantha.  But all of that would just be killing time.  Now,
she could only wait, and hope she'd succeeded.

***

     Around midnight, Dana was awakened from her place on the sofa by a
knocking at the door.  She jerked up, immediately alert, and ran to open it.
     Dyer stood there.  "Dr. Scully?"  He was pale and nervous, glancing
around quickly.
     "Yes.  What have you come to tell me?"
     "Ma'am -- I know where the exchange was going to take place if we'd had
the stuff.  It was tonight -- well, in the early morning.  We could get there if
we left now; I know you don't have stuff to trade but maybe we could do
*something* --"
     Scully stayed in the doorway, arms folded across her.  "Is this a double-
cross, Dyer?  If it is, so help me --"
     "No, no!  Dr. Scully, I shouldn't be here at all.  I'm supposed to be
keeping an eye on you.  I just think you deserve a chance to get him back --
and that you deserve to know that Kavyas *wouldn't* have handed the
information over.  A unit is being sent out to make the rendezvous, but they
didn't have any intention on following through --"
     "I realized that, Dyer.  A snake like Kavyas is never going to be straight
with you.  So that's why I wasn't straight with him."  At Dyer's raised eyebrow,
she picked up the satchel she'd placed by the door earlier, and patted its side.
"Bloodline.  The data is complete.  I may have been angry when I torched
Mulder' stuff, but I wasn't crazy."
     Dyer smiled at that, then caught himself, puzzled.  "Wait -- I thought you
said they wouldn't want it --"
     "That's true enough, but -- hell, I'll explain later.  If we're going to make
this rendezvous, we've got to get going."
     "It's going to be dangerous; the unit they've sent there means business,
and they won't want interference."
     "I'm prepared for that," Scully said, patting the satchel again.  "I don't
have as many reasons to shoot a gun these days, but I do remember how." She
paused a moment by the end table, scribbling on a post-it note -- then slapped
it on the window beside the door.  "Let's go."
     They ran out into the night.  Within the house, the tiny yellow paper
fluttered as the door shut; it said: "Sam.  Take care of Rebecca for me, and don't
worry.  We've gone to pick up your brother."
 

********************
GUARDIAN
Part III
by Amy Vincent
********************

Alexander Stephens Parkway, North Georgia
1:30 a.m.
November 22, 1999

     Dyer's grey rental car sped through the night at nearly 100 miles per
hour; thank goodness he has an FBI badge to flash if we get pulled over, Scully
thought.  She clutched the satchel in her arms, drumming her fingers against the
side.  "It's good of you to do this, Dyer."
     He shook his head.  "It's the only decent thing to do.  I knew the plan all
along but -- Kavyas made it sound as if the two of you had hidden away
government secrets, like we had a right to steal back whatever we could get
from you.  But listening to you, well, I realized there was a lot more to it.  And
that a man's life is at stake."
     Scully smiled softly, but kept her strategies to herself.  "There's no
guarantee this will work, you know.  But this is the best chance I've ever had.
Thank you for that."
     "One thing kinda puzzles me, though," Dyer said, glancing sideways at her.
"When we were leaving you sounded so angry.  So bitter.  Like you wanted him
safe but didn't care what happened to him after that.  You don't seem like that
at all now -- I'm sorry if I'm getting too personal."
     Dana patted his arm.  "Not at all -- it's not as if you haven't heard half
of my life story already.  And putting yourself on the line like this earns you
the right to ask any questions you like.
     "Most of I said back at the house, I meant.  I was infuriated with Mulder
at first.  I'm still angry that he didn't tell me about this -- that wounds me more
deeply than I can easily tell you.  But how can I regret the actions that brought
Samantha home safely?  Or the choices I made?  I wanted knowledge about
extreme possibilities; I may have gotten that knowledge at the highest possible
price, but I did get it."
     She sighed and settled back into the seat a little -- tension or no, the
hours were getting to her.  "I'm not bitter, nor am I some forlorn throwaway
woman who shucked her job for a man.  I made my own choices and fought my
own battles.  The truth is still out there, Dyer -- and during this time I have
been its guardian.  It has been difficult, and lonely, but it was my role, and my
choice."
     Scully looked over at her companion, who seemed to understand.  He
cocked one eyebrow at her.  "And -- you and Mulder?"
     "That I don't know about.  There was a time I would have said nothing
could damage the trust between us, but I was wrong.  I -- I'll just have to see
how we both feel when he gets back." Dana retreated within herself; Dyer noticed
her withdrawal and kept quiet for a while.  For her part, she looked up at the
moon, tinted blue at the top of the windshield, and thought -- when he gets
back.  Not if.  Been a long time since I could say that.  Since I could afford to
let myself remember, in hope instead of pain.

***

Jonquil, South Carolina
July 21, 1997

     The Omelets a'la Mulder have definitely improved, Scully decided, as she
settled in to her breakfast.  When Fox had moved in three months ago, they'd
made a pact to share the chores equally -- although this had meant putting up
with some bizarre meal combinations (his fault) and the occasional streaky
windows (her fault), they'd stuck to it.  They'd both improved a lot -- in fact,
she sometimes found it amazing how easy living together was.  She'd worried
about quarreling over stupid details, longing for personal space, slowing down
their sex life -- and it simply hadn't happened.  After being so close for so long,
she and Mulder fit together perfectly, as if time had worn their curves and
edges, shaping them into two halves of one whole.
     As she put a couple more biscuits on her plate, Mulder chuckled from
across the table.  "Watch out, Scully; if you keep eating like that, you'll get fat
ankles and I'll have to divorce you."
     Dana balled up her napkin and tossed it at him.  "You shouldn't cook such
great breakfasts, then.  Anyway, to divorce me you'd first have to marry me."
     "That's not such a bad idea."
     She'd eaten a few more bites of omelet before that sank in.  Slowly, she
looked up from her plate to study Mulder's face.  The teasing grin she'd
expected wasn't there; Fox was smiling softly, but his eyes were serious. "I'm not
trying to rush you, or anything.  Just talking it over.  Have you ever thought
about it?"
     Dana had to swallow a mouthful before she could answer -- strangely
difficult with the sudden lump in her throat.  She finally managed, "Yes, I've
thought about it a lot."  Good God, was she actually blushing?  Scully managed
to continue; "Sometimes it's hard for me to imagine us as an old married couple,
but I have to admit, it's impossible for me to imagine being married to anyone
else."
     "Same here," Mulder said, taking her hand in his own. "Except I'm not
having too much trouble seeing us as an old married couple any more."
 The intensity of the moment was almost overwhelming -- Dana delighted in
it for a moment, but then could take it no longer.  Glancing away momentarily,
she added, "You and my mother.  She's been thinking about this longer than
either of us, I bet.  Based on the last couple of times we spoke, I think Maggie's
already ordered invitations, and just sits by the phone waiting for the call."
     Fox laughed.  "I can just see her.  Now that's the whole reason I want to
marry you, Scully.  To get in that family of yours."
     "You've been in the family for years, and you know it.  But that's not
really the whole reason -- ?" She angled an eyebrow at him, teasing.
     "You know it's not," Mulder whispered, leaning in closely.  She tilted her
head back as he opened her mouth with his own, kissing her deeply and slowly.
She responded warmly, flattening her hands against his chest, feeling his
heartbeat quicken.  After a few moments, he pulled away.
     "Umm - neither of our summer school classes starts until ten -- "
     "Good thing.  Otherwise we'd have to call in sick." Scully kissed him again,
quickly, then took him by the hand to lead him up the stairs.  "I do have to
insist on two things, Mulder."
     "Okay, okay -- but I'm on top next time."
     She swatted him.  "I'm serious, Mulder.  First of all, if we ever do marry,
I'm keeping my maiden name."
     "No problem with that," he shrugged, as they walked into the bedroom.
Fox began untying the belt of her robe, and kissed her forehead gently as he
pulled it from her shoulders. "Feminist principles?"
     "Yes -- but mostly because it would be too strange, the two of us calling
each other Mulder and Mulder."
     He laughed joyfully, pulling his own T-shirt over his head.  Scully,
giggling, pushed him onto the bed, falling atop him as she did so.  "Second, no
bizarre proposals.  It would be just like you to rent a billboard, or put the ring
in one of these omelets -- "
     "That's the only thing I *haven't* put in the omelets so far."
     She was laughing as Fox rolled her beneath him, but his kisses soon
silenced her; he explored the soft corners of her mouth with his tongue, slowly
and deliberately, until her breath was coming in soft little gasps. After a moment,
Mulder pulled away, serious now.  "Don't worry, Scully," he whispered, his voice
husky.  "I would never make a joke out of proposing to you."
     "Promise?" Dana murmurmed, then traced around the edge of his ear with
her tongue.  Fox shivered, and embraced her even more closely.
     "No surprises.  I promise."

***

     Well, you lied about that too, Mulder, she thought, blinking damp eyelashes.
They'd kept discussing and joking about the topic during the remaining two
months he'd been with her, but no more -- still, in the spring near the end of
her pregnancy, she'd found a tiny jewelry box in the toe of one of Mulder's
shoes, which she'd been planning to give to charity.  Wrapped around it was a
note: "Dana, if you've been snooping, or for some reason want to wear my shoes,
you've spoiled your Christmas.  I had a big formal performance planned for your
entire family, but if you've found this ahead of time -- I love you.  Will you
marry me?"
     Scully had cried for almost an hour, cradling the note to her enormous
belly, before she'd been able to bring herself to open the box.  He'd chosen a
beautiful ring -- a simple, perfect diamond, cut in the pear shape she loved.
She was so tempted to wear it, to accept the paper proposal; it would have been
a symbol of their love -- AND wiped the smirk off the face of that witch in her
Lamaze class who couldn't get past the fact that a single adult woman was having
a baby. But it would have been a lie. Mulder wasn't there to be married, and she
was no longer entirely certain she could have married him.  Not after an
abandonment so complete and devastating.
     "We're here," Dyer said suddenly.  Dana looked up as they slowed down
next to a gate that said, "Constance Park."  He pulled his car up on the outside
of the gate, stopping there.  She didn't have to ask why they didn't drive in --
if there were people inside who *didn't want* their interference, it was important
that their approach be extremely quiet, and their getaway as quick as possible.
She took a deep breath as she slung the satchel around her shoulder, then
fished her weapon from its pockets.
     "I'm ready if you are.  How long until --"
     "According to the data I saw, about a half hour.  But these guys don't
exactly run on Eastern Standard Time -- you can't really clock them."
     Scully nodded; together they set out into the park.
     It was dark, truly dark -- miles and miles away from any form of artificial
light and with only a sliver of crescent moon.  Dana adjusted as best she could,
but the finest night vision in the world wouldn't have made their uneven gravel
trail any easier to navigate. She realized they were headed uphill; the gravel
slipped under her tennis shoes, making her balance precarious.  Hope Dyer's
doing okay in those dress loafers, she thought --
     When suddenly, he slipped. His arms pinwheeled out in an attempt to
balance himself, knocking Scully over.  She stumbled into the nearby ditch, her
left foot punching through a rotting treetrunk on the ground with an audible
THWACK! Streaks of pain shot up her leg, and it was all she could do not to cry
out as she fell the rest of the way to the ground.
     She might as well have screamed -- they'd been noticed.
     A gunshot rang out; she heard both the bang and the impact in a nearby
tree.  As she went for her own weapon, trying to ignore the burning agony in
her ankle, she heard Dyer return fire.  After that, the only sound Dana could
hear was her own gasping breath, the only sight she could see that same breath
fogging in front of her.
     Dyer suddenly ducked into her field of vision.  "Are you all right?"
     "He didn't hit me, but my foot -- " The pain in her ankle was lessening,
but it was being replaced by a forbidding numbness.  Scully could also feel
blood soaking her jeans; the wood had apparently ripped the skin.
     "Here, quickly -- " Dyer put an arm around her to try and lift her up.
But the renewed pressure on her foot brought all the agony back.
     "Oh, DAMN!" she hissed, unable to bite back her whole reaction.  They're
coming for you, Dana.  You're going to get killed here and Mulder isn't going to
get home, oh, damn.  Enjoy your last sunrise --
     It's only two in the morning.  It can't be sunrise.  Scully began to shiver
from something far more profound than the night chill as she realized what the
faint pink light at the top of the hill had to be.  "Dyer, look!"
     "They're here.  We don't have much time -- let me do this." Dyer held out
his hand for the satchel.
     Dana bit her lip.  Suddenly, this all seemed very convenient.  Dyer came
into her house with Kavyas -- couldn't that be a rather weak variant of the good
cop/bad cop scenario?  Dyer was pulled into her story so easily; he'd won her
trust -- and now he'd 'accidentally' injured her just short of her goal, exposing
her location to men who were no doubt running down the slope to kill her.  And
there he sat, hand out, trying to get the package the government wanted so
desperately.
     He could be lying.
     He could be for real.
     Call it.
     Dana thrust the satchel into his hands, whispering only, "Run!"  Dyer took
off, his fleeing form silhouetted against the pale pink light.  In a moment, even
the sound of his footsteps had faded, and she sat in silence yet again.  She
hefted the gun up, two-handed firm grip straight from Quantico, and listened;
Scully forced herself not to think about Dyer's authenticity, the aliens, or even
Mulder -- forced her entire mind to focus only on listening.  Only on the sounds
around her in the dark.
     Behind her, a twig snapped.
     She turned, firing at the sound, aiming only by ear.  The close-range BANG
deafened her ears for a moment -- had that been one of the agents?  Had she
just fired at nothing, revealing herself yet further?  In something approaching
panic, she punched at the wood entrapping her foot, feeling it snap away.  But
as she pulled her leg free, wincing at the movement --
     The light went beyond white, beyond bright.  It came from no one source,
it seemed, but somehow surrounded her, suffused her.  The earth seemed to shift
beneath her; still deafened by the blast, Dana felt but did not hear the
vibrations of an immense power nearby.
     As suddenly as it had begun it was over; Scully looked up, blinking her
eyes against the aftereffects of the blinding light.  After a second she could see
the slivered crescent moon again, and realized the ringing in her ears was dying
down somewhat.  She pushed herself up -- the ankle hurt like hell, but wasn't
broken, it seemed -- and looked around her.
     A man in a suit lay not 15 feet away, a gun in his hand.  Limping to his
side, Scully checked for a pulse -- he had one, strong and steady.  She'd hit
him squarely in the shoulder, but if the other agents (and she had no doubt
there were others) found him soon, he would live.  Dana wasn't sure whether to
be glad or not.
     "Dr. Scully!" Dyer called.  She looked behind her in vain -- nothing was
visible more than twenty feet from her face.  "Get the car!  Hurry!"
     Is Mulder there?  Is he alive?  Are you just going to escape while I go for
the car?  Dana wanted to scream all of this at him, but instead hobbled down the
hill as quickly as she could, trying like hell to ignore the jabbing pains through
her leg.  He's right, we have to get out of here, you'll find out about Mulder in
a minute - I don't want to wait a minute - I want to know now - GODDAMMIT
Dana get the car.
     She finally skidded to the bottom of the path and made her way to the
automobile; Scully cranked it and hit the headlights, grateful for the illumination.
She pulled up the narrow hillside path as quickly as she could, screeching to a
halt only when she saw the form of the agent she'd shot lying beside the road.
     At the very periphery of the headlights' glow, Dana saw Dyer waving
frantically.  "Oh, God, he's for real," she breathed, driving away from the path
towards him.  As she came to a stop just short of the trees between them, she
peered through the underbrush towards the clearing where Dyer stood. Lying
there in the tall grasses, half-lit by her car's lights, was the prone figure of a
man.
     "Mulder -- "

***

Chickasaw County Hospital
Lambert, Georgia
4:00 a.m.

     "He's severely dehydrated, and, I suspect, in shock.  Other than that, I
can't detect anything wrong with him.  How did he get in this condition -- ?"
     Dyer cleared his throat as he flashed his badge.  "I'm sorry, Doctor, those
details are classified.  But Mr. Mulder's prognosis is good?"
     "Yes; he'll need to stay in the hospital for a few days so we can keep a
watch over him, but I don't see much potential for complications," the doctor
shrugged.
     Scully nodded impatiently.  "Can I see him?"  During the wild drive into
town, she'd only been able to glance at Mulder's form in the back seat, where
Dyer was ineptly trying to check him out.  It was enough to convince herself
that it was truly Mulder, but not nearly enough to satiate the deep hunger
within her soul.
     "Sure -- we're moving him to his room right now.  Meanwhile, stay off that
ankle; that's a nasty sprain and the stitches don't need straining either."
     Dana glanced down at the bandages around her left foot; "No argument
here.  Just let me get to his room, and I promise, I won't budge."
     "Room 268," the doctor offered, as Scully used her new crutches to pull
herself to her feet. Dyer half-rose, as if to accompany her, then thought better
of it and sat back down.
     She made her way to the elevator and down the hall, her heart thumping
wildly against her chest.  Finally, Scully opened the door and saw him.
     Mulder lay in the hospital bed, unconscious.  After all the suspense, after
all the infinite ways she'd imagined this moment, the reality was almost comically
normal -- he was tucked in tightly, with his head propped up on pillows.
Nothing so out of the ordinary, except the IV.
     Scully hobbled up to his side, dropping the crutches as she sat on the
side of the bed.  Mulder had a beard now, and longish hair -- while he'd
obviously been able to tend to both sometime within the last two years, he hadn't
done it anytime soon.  She put her hand to his cheek, drinking in the sight of
him; he's got a few new wrinkles, she thought, and there's some grey in this
hair.  Why am I surprised?  During his absence, he hadn't aged in her mind --
strange to think now that he was, after all, only a few months shy of forty.
     "Welcome home," Dana whispered, closing her eyes against sudden tears.
And as she sat there, looking down at her hand covering his, she missed the
moment when he passed from unconsciousness into mere sleep.

***

     Not this dream again.
     Normally Mulder clung to his dreams -- they were the only escape for him
now, the only break from the agony, the monotony.  The only way for him to
glimpse the life he'd had before.  Even his recurring nightmares from before
were vaguely comforting in their familiarity.
     Yet this dream hurt too much.  It was memory more than dream, and too
painful and too sweet to relive.  Yet his mind returned to it again and again.
     Those last hours with Dana -- he'd made his pact earlier that day, sworn
himself over to the force he feared most in the world.  Fox had come home
completely terrified, but determined to keep up a normal facade.
     On any usual day, he never could have pulled it off; although he
considered himself braver than most, the prospect of what faced him shook him
to the core.  Mulder had made a life's work of collecting abductee stories -- the
horrors had always been personal to him.  He'd known that Samantha was no
doubt suffering them.  The idea of these things happening to him was
frightening -- although not as much so as his fear for his sister.  Had it been
otherwise, he couldn't have made this deal.
     When he gave himself up, Fox would also lose whatever hopes he'd had of
seeing Sam again. She would be as far from him as she ever had been.  But she
would be safe, Mulder reminded himself -- that, too, was an acceptable trade.
Agonizing, but acceptable.
     But Dana!  Looking at her across the dinner table, knowing these were his
last hours with her, was the purest hell he had ever known.  She had been ill
these last few days, some stomach thing, and so was simply padding around the
house in her sweats; instead of talking over the day with him, looking into his
eyes with that gaze from which he could hide nothing, Scully was simply forcing
down a little dinner before she crawled off to bed.
     After she'd gone up to their room, weak and weary, Mulder sat in the
living room for a long time, crying with deep, racking sobs as he hadn't since -
- God, since he'd thought Dana was dying so long ago.  That was the first time
he'd known how deep his love for her ran, the first time he'd realized she was
a part of him now, someone he literally could not live without.  And now, even
knowing that, he was surrendering her.
     Once he'd cried himself out, Fox went up to join her.  Dana was fast
asleep, curled up on her side of the bed.  He undressed quietly and lay beside
her; sensing his approach even in sleep, Scully snuggled in closely to him.
Mulder wrapped his arms around her, breathing in the soft scent of her hair.
"Oh, Scully, I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry. This is going to hurt you so much -- " he
whispered.
     "I'd give anything for there to be another way.  Anything. But I can't let
her suffer any more than I could let you  Not if I could stop it."  His voice
choked as spoke, and he closed his eyes in an attempt to calm himself.
     Yet he couldn't protect himself from the memories.  Just lying there beside
her reminded him of countless other nights -- of a hundred times they'd loved
one another in this bed.  "If I'd known we didn't have much time, I wouldn't
have waited so long.  I would have -- "
     No.  He wouldn't regret a moment he'd spent with her, or a single choice
they'd made.  The way things had happened had been beautiful. Perfect.  Fox
couldn't ask for anything else -- except a way out of this bargain.  But he knew
there wasn't one.
     For a few minutes, Mulder contemplated waking her, making love to her one
last time.  Tired and ill as Dana was, she would still respond to his caresses, not
begrudgingly but sweetly and tenderly, as she always did.  Yet he knew it would
be a mistake.  He couldn't possibly bear *knowing* it was the last time.
     Fox buried his face in her auburn hair, fighting past his exhaustion in an
attempt to stay awake and treasure these last hours.  Strange -- he'd spent a
great deal of his life in emotional pain.  Yet this ultimate misery was not without
a deep comfort.
     "It's worth every moment of the hurt, Scully.  Loving you is worth losing
you," Mulder whispered shakily.  "Whatever happiness I've had in my life I owe
to you.  Even if we'd had a hundred years together, I could never have thanked
you enough for that. I hope you'll understand -- "
     The dream shifted again, pulling Mulder away from the bittersweet memory.
He fought against the tide of consciousness pulling at him -- no, not again.  I
can't take the light, the pain, just after this.  Just one more moment --

***

     A light rap at the door stirred Scully from her reverie; she glanced up to
see Dyer standing awkwardly in the doorway.  For the first time, Dana noticed
that he had a black eye -- apparently he'd run into a little resistance in the
park himself.  She grabbed a crutch and wobbled towards him.
     "How is he?" Dyer asked.
     "Resting comfortably.  Physically, there's nothing extraordinary wrong with
him; emotionally -- well, if Samantha's any basis for judgement, it'll be a while
before Mulder's back to his old self.  It shouldn't be as serious for him -- after
all, she was missing over ten times as long as Mulder -- but it's not going to be
easy."
     "Your work isn't over, then," Dyer said.
     Scully raised an eyebrow at him, then nodded.  "You're right, of course.
However long it takes for him to recover, I'll be by his side.  After that -- "
Dana bit her lip, then suddenly changed the subject.  "Do me a favor?  Last one
today, I promise."
     He smiled.  "Sure thing."
     "Call Samantha and tell her what's happened; I ought to do it but -- I
think I'd get so emotional I couldn't explain everything to her.  And tell her to
bundle Rebecca up and come down here."  Good Lord, Mulder was going to wake
up to the baby sister he'd never expected to see again and the daughter he
didn't know existed.  Surprise, surprise --
     "No problem -- but there is one thing you never explained to me."
     "What's that?"
     "Bloodline.  It wasn't predictive, you said, and surely the aliens have
better records of their activities than you did.  Why did they want it, then?"
     "They didn't want it.  But they wanted to make damn sure the government
didn't get it, either.  Mulder and I -- we can only do so much about them.  But
the knowledge we had in the hands of the government -- well, that might be a
different story."  She folded her arms across her chest, and studied Dyer for
a moment. "What about you?  Kavyas isn't going to like this."
     "I know.  I think this will be too high profile for him to," Dyer paused and
gulped, "eliminate me, but -- let's just say I see Arctic Circle pass checks in my
future."
     She smiled at his joke, but knew the danger Dyer'd placed himself in on
their behalf.  "That's not what I see in your future.  Know what I do see?"
     Dyer shrugged, honestly puzzled.  Scully continued, "I see you getting in
your rental car right now and driving to FBI headquarters.  You manage to get
in to see Walter Skinner -- don't take no for an answer from that secretary of
his.  When you see him, tell him I sent you.  And that I think it's time for an
abandoned department to be reborn."
     "The X-Files?"
     "They're all still there, in the basement.  Skinner's always wanted to
reopen them -- but he's been waiting for the right agent to come along.  I think
maybe that's you."
     "Me?  I don't know that much about the paranormal -- a little about the
aliens, but beyond that --"
     "Trust me, Dyer, it isn't belief that matters.  If it were, I never could have
done it myself.  What matters is a committment to the truth, an open mind, and
the courage to stand against whomever may oppose you.  You've shown me that
today; my recommendation should be enough to convince Skinner.  Is it what you
want to do?"
     After a moment, he nodded.  "The X-Files are always yours and Mulder's,
really -- but I would be proud to serve as their guardian."
     Scully smiled and touched his hand.  "And if you ever need our help --
find us."
     Dyer squeezed her hand, then headed down the hallway.  She watched him
go for a second, his trenchcoated form disappearing into the darkness near the
stairs.  Dana then turned and sat next to Fox again.
     Gently, Scully took his hand in her own.  The light touch against his skin
stirred Mulder from his sleep.  No, no, not yet -- he protested against his
waking, until realizing that he wasn't in the ship any longer.  What the --
     Fox opened his eyes; he was in an ordinary hospital room.  In a normal
bed.  And Scully --
     He clutched her hand with such force she actually jumped, and looked up
to see Mulder staring at her in shock.  "Mulder?" she whispered.
     Before he could answer, Fox ran his hand up her arm, over her shoulder,
touching her neck, her face -- "It is you.  It really is.  Oh, Scully -- " He
pushed himself up from the bed, taking her in his arms so tightly she could
scarcely breathe.  She wrapped her arms around him, feeling his heartbeat
against her own again.
     "It's me, Mulder."  Joy was overwhelming her, bringing tears to her eyes
at the same time it brought laughter to her voice.  "It's really me."
     "I never thought I'd see you again," he murmured into the side of her
neck.  Fox sighed shakily, glorying in the rich scent of her hair; he thought
he'd committed every detail of her to memory, relived it all endlessly and
exactingly during these last years, but it paled so next to the warm, living
reality.
     "Same here. "  She'd thought of so many things to say to him -- imagined
everything from passionate declarations of love to slapping him in the face. We
loved each other so much, she thought, and yet you still abandoned me. I know
why you did it -- I wouldn't even argue with your reasons.  But the lying, the
lack of trust --
     Yet even as she battled for words, Dana realized something new.  Mulder's
always taken things upon himself.  Tried to handle things on his own.  It's part
of his dishonesty *and* his courage, to assume that he has to bear his burdens
alone.  Part of his arrogance and part of his self-sacrifice.  All the bad qualities
that had so injured her were elemental to the nobility and bravery that made her
love Fox in the first place.
     That made her love him still.
     "There's so much to tell you, Mulder," she said, reaching up to ruffle his
hair.  "A lot has changed since you left."
     "It doesn't matter," he whispered, taking her face in his hands.  "Not as
long as you're all right, and I still have you."
     Dana caught the note of fear in his voice, and pulled him close yet again.
"Oh, Mulder.  You'll always have me."

***

THE END

***

     Author's note: things still aren't entirely right between Fox and Dana;
there will be a followup story to this (a much briefer followup) entitled
"Renewal."  Look for that in about three weeks.
     Also, I edited out a bunch of flashbacks -- if anybody's curious about
when Dana found out she was pregnant, or what Skinner said when he told
Scully that Mulder was leaving the Bureau, or virtually any missing scene from
this sequence of events, just email me; while these flashbacks may have been too
much to include in the story, I would still love to farm them out! Contact me at
XFScully@aol.com if you're interested.