By XFScully
XFScully@aol.com
 

     Here is the sequel to my earlier story "Guardian;" I'd like to say the story
stands on its own -- but it doesn't.  Originally, this was a short-short, no more
than a vignette, but I decided to work in some of the edited flashbacks from
"Guardian" and expand the story -- with the result that this is as long as
"Guardian" itself.  I'm afraid what little government conspiracy and alien activity
stuff was in the first story is almost absent here -- it's pretty much total
relationship.  But it's no mushfest --
     <Cue melodramatic music> When we last saw our dynamic duo, Mulder had
just been returned by the aliens after two years.  Meanwhile, here on earth,
Scully has been giving birth to his daughter, taking care of his sister, and
essentially has been left to her own devices in all of this.  This begins about
four days after their reunion at the end of "Guardian."
     Meanwhile, I ought to point out that NONE of the characters in this story
(except Rebecca) are my creation, but that of Chris Carter, who incidentally owns
all rights to them along with Ten-Thirteen Productions and the Fox network.  I
am appropriating them without anyone's permission, although no infringement is
intended.  There's one scene that's about PG-13, but that's all.  Any and all
comments are very welcome; please send praise or flames to XFScully@aol.com.

***************
RENEWAL
by Amy Vincent
***************

Jonquil, South Carolina
November 26, 1999

     The light glinted off the blade -- the sharp edge was within inches of his
face --
     Mulder flinched reflexively, then forced himself to take a deep breath.  It's
your own damn straight razor -- you're gonna have to work through this if you
want to get this beard off, he told himself sternly.
     It didn't help.
     He'd only been returned a few days, after all -- only come home to Jonquil
this morning. As profoundly happy as Fox was to be home, the changes were
almost overwhelming.  And he could scarcely adjust to them for the terrifying
memories that still haunted virtually every moment.
     (There had been sharp edges, so many sharp edges, coming toward him --
irresistible, inescapable -- hour after hour after hour of torment, unnatural
consciousness forced on him, denying him the comfort of sleep --)
     Mulder put the razor down for a moment and took a deep breath.  The
steam from his shower filled his lungs; the familiar smells of soap and shampoo
were strangely comforting.  You're *home,* he reminded himself, tucking his towel
around his waist.  Look at your reflection instead of the razor edge, and you'll
be okay.
     As quickly as he could, Fox wiped a small corner of the mirror clear of the
steam and got to work.  It wasn't the smoothest job ever; he nicked himself a
few times, wincing at each cut far more than he would once have, but kept going
as fast as possible.
     Finally, in a couple of minutes, he was done -- scratched up but smooth
faced again. As he finished the last stroke, Mulder found himself pitching the
razor across the room, to get it as far from him as possible.  It flew into the
shower, knocking shampoo bottles off the shelf.  He slumped against the wall in
disgust at his own instability.
     The door flew open; Scully skidded into the bathroom, obviously having
run from down the hall.  When she saw Mulder standing there, apparently well,
she sighed.  "I thought you'd fallen in the tub.  Are you all right?"
     "Just a little shaky," he admitted, trying to smile.  "Let's see -- in the
last four days, we've learned to avoid bright lights and loud noise.  I think we
can add sharp edges to the phobia list."
     "It'll get better, Mulder," she murmured, taking his hand.  "Sam was the
same way when she got back; after a few months, she got over it.  You will too."
     He nodded, trying to take courage from her words -- and was suddenly
very aware of her proximity in the small, steamy room, of the feeling of her hand
in his own.
     With her other hand, Dana reached up to touch the newly smooth skin.
"Now this is more like it.  I spent the last few days half convinced I'd brought
home a stranger."
     "Stranger than most."  Mulder delighted in her soft laugh, the electric
touch of her fingertips on his face.  A slow, delicious warmth was spreading
through him -- an instinct he'd begun to fear had been eliminated from him
somehow was back.  Definitely.
     He put his free arm around her waist, bringing her close.  Dana's blue
eyes widened in surprise; she and Mulder hadn't been alone, really alone, for any
length of time since his return.  Nurses, Sam, Becca, a few college friends --
well, at any rate, there hadn't been opportunity for more than the occasional
kiss.
     She'd been glad of that.  Only out of concern for Fox, she told herself; he
was still weak, fragile, incredibly moody.  No need to rush things.
     But here he was, the heat of his skin soaking through her t-shirt even as
the thin sheen of water on his body had.  His arms once again embracing her.
That familiar, beloved face dipping close to her own
     Their lips met gently at first, then Mulder pulled Scully passionately
against him.  His mouth closed over hers tenderly, hungrily, as if he could never
have enough.  She felt a dizzying wave of desire rush through her as she tilted
her head back, returning the kisses for those few precious moments before her
longing suddenly vanished, replaced by another emotion.
     Fear.
     Suddenly, his closeness, his touch seemed utterly wrong -- as bewildering
and threatening as the advances of a stranger in an alleyway.  Dana froze
suddenly, turning her head away from Fox's kiss.
     "Scully?" he rasped in confusion.
     She opened her mouth to say something, but couldn't find words.  To her
horror, she realized she had started to cry.
     "Scully?  What's wrong?"  Mulder was gentle now, still holding her, but
bewildered at the tears running down Dana's face.
     "Everything."  She tore free from his hands, pushing blindly out of the
bathroom and flopping down on the side of the bed.  The air in their bedroom
seemed dry and chilly after the post-shower warmth, but she welcomed that.  It
was bracing.  Scully forced herself to breathe in deeply and regularly, to bite
back the urge to weep.
     Behind her, in the doorway, Fox felt himself trembling, and not from the
cold air.  The fear sweeping through him now was something far more profound
than any of his phobias; yet somehow, he found the presence of mind to tug his
bathrobe on and come sit near -- not too near -- Dana on the edge of the bed.
     After a couple seconds of silence, he murmured, "I hope that, whatever else
is happening, you can still talk to me about what you're feeling.  That's the one
thing I couldn't bear to lose, Scully."
     She shook her head.  "I'm just trying to figure out what to say.  It's just
-- you've been gone a long time, Mulder."
     He nodded, took a deep breath.  "Yeah, I've thought about that."  Keeping
his voice calm and understanding, utterly gentle, he asked, "Is there somebody
else?"
     "No!  Oh, no, that's not it -- " She touched his arm for reassurance, and
Mulder felt at least one of the iron bands squeezing around his chest loosen.
But it didn't make his next question any easier to ask.
     "Do you still love me?"
     She looked past him, not meeting his eyes, for only a brief moment -- the
longest moment of Fox Mulder's life.  Her face seemed horribly distant, almost
blank. Yet when she finally returned his gaze , the tenderness there reassured
him even before her words.
     "Yes, Mulder.  I still love you.  I don't think anything could ever change
that.  Because if there was any force capable of tearing that apart -- it would
have succeeded within the last two years.  They've been hard."
     "I know that.  How you managed to help Sammie and raise -- Rebecca --"
his voice still choked on the name of his daughter; it was unfathomably strange
to him instantly to be the father of a child who was already walking.  "Well, it
took a lot of courage.  A lot of strength."
     She nodded.  "That wasn't the worst of it, Mulder.  It was tough, but --
" Dana stood up suddenly, walked to the window that overlooked their secluded
street.  "You left me.  For the noblest reasons, I know.  Against your own
wishes, I know.  But without one word of explanation, or of warning -- to say
the least of perhaps giving me the option to argue with you.  To listen to my
ideas about what was easily the most shattering event in either of our lives."
     Mulder sighed.  "I knew you would be angry that I kept it from you."
     "Angry doesn't begin to describe it."
     "Scully -- I knew you might try to talk me out of it.  I was damned close
to backing out of the deal myself.  I thought -- I was afraid that if I told you,
you'd convince me not to do it.  And I couldn't have lived out my life knowing
I had a chance to save Samantha and gave it up."
     She glanced at him briefly.  "But you could live out your life knowing you
gave me up."
     Hard question, but -- "Yes.  Not happily. Horribly.  But my pain seemed
secondary to Sam's."
     "I can agree with that.  It just disturbs me that *my* pain doesn't seem
to have been part of this equation."
     "Scully -- Dana, NO.  I knew it would hurt you, I hated that so much, but
-- it wasn't easy to know it was coming.  The waiting -- that hurt too."
     "I guess we'll never know which is worse." Scully turned finally, folding
her arms across her chest as she looked at him again.  He was hugging himself
in the blue-and-white robe, his longish hair flopping damp against his worried
face.  Mulder looked as boyishly endearing as he ever had.
     And as far away.
     "I'm going to fix lunch. Fajitas okay?"
     He blinked at that.  "Uh, yeah.  You mean -- that's it?"
     "Mulder, I love you.  You love me.  But there's a lot of distance between
us and -- it's going to take a lot of time.  And I really can't bear to get any
deeper into this right now."  She walked evenly out of the room, leaving Mulder
to stare at the doorway for a few long minutes before rising and getting dressed
in the few clothes he still had in the back of her closet.

     Dana tried to clear her mind as she went downstairs.  That didn't go
*that* badly, she consoled herself.  We both spoke our minds.  We can still
communicate.  We can work from there.
     So why was her chest hurting?
     She pushed those considerations away and went into the kitchen.  As she
opened the fridge to start searching for the chicken, Scully heard the doorbell
chime.  "Sam?  Can you get that?"
     "Sure thing!" a cheerful voice called from the living room.  Samantha
bounded out, with energy more like a teenager's than a 36-year-old woman.  It
fit her face -- perhaps the only blessing of her long absence was an apparent
slowdown in the external signs of aging.  Her real age, her energy, and her
slightly youthful face, combined with moments of utter innocence and then of
otherworldly wisdom, gave her an aura of mystery.  And the ability to win every
time at those carnival "Guess Your Age" booths.
     Sam tugged her waist-long dark hair into a ponytail as she went to the
door.  "Just a second," she called, as she leaned forward to glance through the
peephole.  Then she jumped straight up in delight.
     "Dana!  It's the Gunmen!"  She pulled the door wide as she flung open her
arms to grab three of her favorite people in the world.  Byers was the first to
hug her.
     "Happy Late Thanksgiving, Samantha.  I should be hurt that you didn't
invite us down, but there were more important celebrations going on, right?"
     "You better believe it.  Fox!  Get down here!"
     Frohike, for his part, had squirmed past Sam to find Dana.  "Hi there,
Scully.  How are things?"
     Scully had walked into the hallway, grinning one of her rare, full-lipped
smiles even as she still held the chicken in one hand.  "Overwhelming, my friend.
But it's good to see you."  She hugged him close as Mulder appeared at the top
of the stairs.
     His first thought was, I didn't make it home after all.  This is some parallel
universe or something.  But Fox pushed that aside with a small laugh as he said,
"Damn, it took you guys long enough.  The aliens have been gone for five days.
If you're going to make a living chasing flying saucers -- "
     "I'll have you know we were following up on a VERY promising lead in
California.  My sources suggest that Newt Gingrich isn't dead after all." Langley
was obviously still excited about the idea, even amid the thrill of his lost friend's
return.
     Mulder laughed.  "Running things from behind the scenes?"
     "It goes deeper than that," Byers explained seriously.
     "I missed you guys," Fox chuckled as he pulled each of them, in turn, into
that abashed one-armed male embrace.
     Sam shared a skeptical glance with Dana -- why can't men just hug and
deal with it? -- and then ducked quietly into the living room for a moment.
Scully held up the package in her hand.  "You guys want fajitas? You've had a
big trip and there's plenty of stuff -- "
     "Thanks, Scully, don't mind if we do.  We're hoping to have a LONG talk
with Mulder about his experiences."
     Dana's face darkened somewhat, but Mulder was capable of speaking for
himself.  "Guys, I know how much you want to hear about this, but I don't know
how much I can tell you."
     Langley blinked.  "You lived on an alien craft for almost two years, Mulder.
Do you remember any of it?"
     "I remember it all," he said quietly.  "It's not a matter of whether I know
anything you'd want to hear.  It's whether I can bring myself to tell it.  It --
it's just gonna take some time."
     The frustration on their faces was nothing new to Mulder; he'd worn that
expression a thousand times while questioning abductees.  But all the
awkwardness and pain in those victim's faces hadn't prepared him for the
viselike grip of silence that held him.  Was it some sort of hypnotic conditioning?
No way to be sure.  But while horrible memories still floated through his mind,
constant shadows flickering at the periphery of reality, he could no more have
given words to them than he could suddenly learn to fly.
     Still, they accepted it rather easily.  Byers nodded and patted Mulder's
shoulder, saying "We should've expected that -- Sam hasn't been able to tell us
much either, even after this long.  Whatever you've got, whenever you're ready."
     "Hey, speaking of Sam, where'd she get to?" Langley asked.
     "We're back here.  Look, honey, look who's come to see you!"  Samantha's
girlish voice laughed joyously as she shuffled forward, holding Becca's hand as
she toddled into the room.  The little girl looked up at the visitors and beamed.
     "Uncle Fricky!"  Rebecca cried, scampering over to Frohicke.  He chuckled
and swept her up into his arms.
     "How's the princess?  Brought you something -- " Mulder watched in utter
astonishment as Frohike pulled a small stuffed rabbit from his coat pocket.  He'd
never exactly seen his friend as a big fan of kids, but he and his daughter were
obviously enamored of each other.
     Scully clucked her tongue.  "Honestly, you're spoiling her."
     "That's my prerogative.  I never had a goddaughter before, and I intend
to fulfill my obligations to the fullest."
     "Wait a second -- you're Rebecca's *godfather*?"  Mulder was beginning
to flash back to old Twilight Zone episodes.
     "I thought you'd like that," Dana said.  "And anyway, it made a certain
degree of sense."  She was grinning now, as was "Uncle Fricky;" Fox raised an
eyebrow, hoping she'd continue.  Scully handed the chicken to Sam and folded
her hands in the way he knew meant a story was coming.  "After all, Frohike
was the first to know."

***

October 16, 1997

     "There's gotta be more to the Bloodline project -- some avenue you haven't
seen, that Mulder didn't explain -- "
     "Damnit, I wasn't ALWAYS completely in the dark," Dana snapped, hugging
herself into a ball in the rocker by the window.  Byers, Langley and Frohike
were all on the sofa, like some bizarre computer-geek version of the "see no
evil" tableau. They'd flown into town yesterday, frantic about Mulder, wanting
to see Samantha, trying to pick Scully's brain for information.
     Scully knew, as she always had known, that they meant well.  They weren't
all bad, just annoying, she reminded herself.  Right now they were only trying
to get some clue about what had happened to their friend.
     They couldn't accept that he'd done this to himself.
     And to her.  And to --
     She pushed that out of her thoughts, forced herself to keep speaking.
"Bloodline is no more than it appears to be.  A map of the aliens' movements
overlaid with the movements of abductees and their family members.  Mulder
played one of his hunches and made contact.  Made a deal."
     "I just can't believe that," Langley muttered.
     "It's one of the only things Samantha can tell me, so far," Scully sighed,
nodding her head towards the room upstairs where Mulder's sister was sleeping
fitfully.  And she'd thought Fox's nightmares were bad -- Sam, so far, had been
unable to sleep more than two hours at a stretch, and instead of shrugging off
her nightmares after a few minutes, would often sit shaking for longer than
she'd slept.  Scully had ended up sleeping curled next to Samantha's back -- the
closeness helped comfort them both a little.  But it would take Sam a very long
time to lead a normal life.
     If she ever would.
     Again, Dana pushed her darker ideas away, and rose from the chairs.
"Guys, I don't want to be rude, but I'm exhausted from taking care of Samantha
and -- everything.  We just have to go into this later; I'm not up to it yet.  Not
now."
     "Mulder's not going to get home if we just sit here," Byers said.
     THAT did it.  "He's not going to get home if we DON'T just sit here.  He's
not going to get home if we crawl on our hands and knees to Tibet and pray
with the Dalai Lama.  He's NOT GOING TO GET HOME.  Not through anything that's
in our power.  Right now, the only thing I *can* do is throw you out of my
house until I've had some sleep.  Maybe later you can come back and lecture me
about how important Mulder is, okay?"  She stalked to the door; after a moment,
the abashed Lone Gunmen got up and walked out without a word.
     They hurried out to the van (equipped with the latest surveillance devices,
a top-of-the-line computer, and an eight-track that Frohike refused to dump)
in silence.  Finally, as Langley slid open the door, he muttered, "I guess we're
pushing her."
     "We *need* to push," Byers insisted.  "The trail's still warm.  I'm not
convinced that the government didn't have anything to do with this, and if we're
going to get the facts we need to get them now."
     "True," Langley said.  "We'll try her tomorrow.  She's just tired."
     "We ought to apologize, anyway," Frohike said.  "Scully's gonna be mad
enough that we don't agree with her interpretation of events.  I'm just gonna
run in and make nice."
     "Give it UP, man," Langley sighed.  "We went out boozing with you the
night after Mulder told you they were together.  You said you'd get over it --
"
     "I HAVE.  Jeez, even I'm not desperate enough to go in and hit on a
grieving woman."  Interesting in theory, but -- "I just -- I think one of us
should apologize, and so I'm gonna go back."  Frohike walked back to the door,
knocked softly.
     No answer.
     He knocked again, and when Dana still failed to appear at the door, he
opened it and walked in.  Scully was sitting in a crumpled heap on the floor
near the sofa, crying brokenly.
     "Scully?  Oh, man, Scully, we're sorry -- I just came to say we shouldn't
have been bugging you right now.  Are you okay?"  Whatever fragment of a
caring, chivalrous man that dwelled deep within Frohicke's squirrelly self was
taking over; Dana Scully had always had that effect on him, along with all the
various raunchy effects that she also inspired.
     Dana looked up at him, surprised, but unable to stop sobbing.  "No, no, I'm
not okay."
     Awkwardly, Frohicke sat on the floor beside her.  "I know we stayed too
long and got on your nerves.  And you're tired -- after all, you're responsible
for another person now and that's tough."
     Scully jerked herself into another tight little ball, now looking at him with
wide eyes.  "How did you know?"
     This was strange.  "You -- you told us you were taking care of Samantha
until Mrs. Mulder got back from that cruise and could get down here.  And we
saw her upstairs.  Kinda helped me figure it out."
     After a moment of silence, Dana began to laugh -- a shaky sound that was
somehow even sadder than her weeping.  "More than that.  I'm pregnant."
     "What?"  Frohicke had felt out of place before; he was now WELL beyond
his depth.  He gestured vaguely in the air.  "With a baby?"
     That didn't even win a sarcastic comeback.  Scully was still trembling,
choking out her breath in something that was no longer simply laughter or tears.
"Mulder and I are going to have a baby.  And he's not going to be here.  He
never even knew.  I only found out this morning -- I ran the test just before
you got here.  I don't know what I'm going to do."
     Her voice was getting shrill, hysterical, edged in a way Frohicke had never
heard before.  "I'm so goddamned mad at him I don't want ANYTHING of his near
me.  And yet I know this is all I'll ever have of him now -- the only part of him
that's left -- I don't know what to do.  I don't know what -- " She broke apart,
breaking into tears too intense to speak through.
     Frohike simply sat there for another minute, completely bewildered.
Scully had always come across as the tower of strength, giving as good as she
got, handling everything in stride.  And nothing in his rather limited experience
with women had prepared him for the sight of such a strong person tearing into
shreds before his eyes.  Still, in the movies, there was one thing that always
seemed to work --
     When Byers and Langley, fed up with listening to "Inna Gadda Da Vida" in
the van, finally came back into the house fifteen minutes later, Scully was still
weeping in Frohike's awkward embrace -- and clinging to him as if she would
never let go.

***

     Mulder was as amazed by the story as Frohike had been that day; yet it
wasn't hard to picture.  Nor were the other escapades the Lone Gunmen and
Scully laughed over the the fajitas and well into the afternoon.  Mulder had to
hold his sides at the story of the baby shower Frohike and Melissa had tried
to cohost, and genuinely enjoyed the visit.  Yet, the whole time the others were
talking animatedly, trying to catch Fox up on one event or another, he felt
himself growing more and more distant from the conversation.  He was a
spectator in this, not a participant.  In this party, and to some extent, in their
lives now.
     Neither Scully nor the Lone Gunmen seemed to notice his increasing quiet,
for which Mulder was relieved -- no point in spoiling the party.  Yet Samantha
was watching him carefully, understandingly, the whole time she helped Rebecca
with her little slices of chicken.  At last, when the Gunmen had departed for an
exciting Indian mound nearby, she grabbed her brother's hand.  "I need some
fresh air.  C'mon, Fox, let's hit the beach."
     "Sam?"  Scully was puzzled; Samantha usually didn't enjoy the waterfront
on chilly, breezy afternoons like this.
     "Hey, I ended up making the fajitas.  Least you can do is wash up."
     "That's not what I -- never mind.  Be sure to take your coats; it's
freezing."  She waved them through the back door, thinking about them no more,
as she turned to continue her work.
 

********************
RENEWAL
Part II
By Amy Vincent
********************

     Fox and Samantha walked along the shore in silence for a long time.
Mulder still felt somewhat awkward around his sister; throughout his lifetime,
he'd prepared himself for her return in a thousand ways.  Been ready to help
her through her troubles, to tell her about the man he had become.
     He had never envisioned a future in which *he* was the helpless one.  The
one who twisted, screaming, from sleep five times in a night, who couldn't stand
next to bright artificial light without trembling.  Sam had sat by him in the
hospital as many hours as Scully had, calming him and caring for him the way
he'd always hoped to care for her.
     He had also never considered that she would already *know* him.  Through
the years, Fox had mentally composed stories to explain what Oxford had been
like, how he joined the Bureau -- everything down to how people did the Hustle
at his senior prom.  But Sam had been living with Dana for two years, and had
asked her everything about her older brother.  Scully knew most of his stories -
- maybe not the Hustle, but the important ones certainly -- and had filled in the
blanks.
     Still, Mulder felt less distant from her than from anyone else right now.
They shared a connection more powerful even than the love he'd carried for her
all these years -- their abductions.  The experiences that haunted him, tormented
him, remained inexpressible; yet Samantha didn't need explanations.  She KNEW.
While the two of them hadn't discussed their time away from earth, he knew that
this shared knowledge bound them together, and felt more reassured by her
silences than anyone else's words.
     After a long time, she finally spoke.  "You were unhappy in there."
     With almost anybody else, he would've denied it.  But Samantha's words
were a statement, not a question.  "I've been gone so long, Sam."
     "Tell *me* about it."  Fox smiled at her words, but knew the joke wasn't
meant to dismiss his experience.
     He continued, "I barely know them now.  Scully and Frohike best friends?
Sam, she used to shudder when he walked in the room.  Literally.  And while
they're as bent as ever, even the Lone Gunmen have mellowed.  But that's
nothing compared to Rebecca.
     "Jesus, Sammie, I'm a father!"  He stopped walking, kicked at a scrap of
driftwood near his feet.  "I always wanted kids, but -- I thought I'd have a
little warning, you know?  And be there when my child was born, bathe her and
feed her and be there for her."
     "You can still do that,"  Samantha had stopped a few steps ahead of him,
and was looking calmly out to sea.
     "I know.  Thank God.  But -- it's hard to know where to start.  I haven't
been around children much.  I don't know what she needs.  I don't know if I'm
strong enough yet to be a father to her.  And Rebecca's not some day-old infant
-- she's a little person in her own right.  A person who doesn't know *what* the
hell to make of me."
     Sam closed her eyes, knowing that was true.  Easily the most painful
moment of Fox's return so far was the first moment he'd seen Rebecca; instead
of some honey-lit Hallmark card scene, it had basically consisted of Mulder
staring at his daughter as if *she* were the one who'd just been dropped off
by a flying saucer and Becca returning the stare suspciously, then hiding in her
mother's shoulder.
     Hiding from the stranger.
     "She's already gotten a lot better, Fox.  Rebecca likes you now; the two
of you will come to love one another.  Give it time."
     Mulder sighed deeply.  "I thought the moment you first saw your child,
you were supposed to melt with adoration and instantly feel just like a parent.
It wasn't like that for me."
     "It wasn't like that for Dana, either."
     "Really?"  Fox's voice was soft.  He hadn't had the guts to ask Scully
much about her pregnancy and delivery yet; the guilt of not being there was
still too strong.
     Samantha smiled.  "No, not at all.  You heard, in there, how ambivalent she
was about having a child alone when she first found out.  She hadn't totally
resolved those feelings when Rebecca was born."

***

May 20, 1998

     "Push!"  Melissa commanded.
     "Jesus Christ, I AM pushing!" Dana yelled back.  Her sister was the only
midwife she would've trusted for a home delivery instead of a hospital; still, the
combination of New Age crap (candles, incense, chimes) and the backbreaking
pain of labor were wearing on Scully's nerves.
     "Take it easy, honey.  You're getting close now," Maggie's soothing voice
said, as she rubbed her daughter's shoulders.  Dana nodded and sighed deeply
as the contraction ended.
     Sam, meanwhile, sat nearby; the four women had gathered together for this
night -- it seemed appropriate, comforting.  Before the night was over, three
generations of Scullys would be here, caring for one another, bound together.
It felt right.
     Not at all what she was used to.
     "Here comes another one," Dana groaned, clutching her mother's hand for
strength.  Maggie winced at the viselike grip, but was too excited to feel too
much pain.
     "Come on, Dana.  Only a few more," Margaret whispered.
     Sam started a little as the head appeared, then emerged.  Despite all the
blood and Dana's cry of pain, she was beyond any emotion besides wonder.
Melissa, meanwhile, grinned triumphantly.
     "We've got the head, Dana.  One more big push now and we'll have it,
okay?  Ready?"
     Dana nodded weakly as her mother wiped some sweat from her brow.
Samantha leaned in a little closer.
     "Push!" Melissa cried again, as Dana shivered from the final contraction.
Scully threw herself into it, yelling not from pain but from strain, as she
clenched every muscle, put every bit of strength she had into that final push.
     And the child came free -- baby and afterbirth in one great rush of fluid
upon the floor next to the futon.  Melissa caught the baby up in her arms,
patting the infant's bottom as she did so.
     As the room was filled with the baby's first wailing, Melissa smiled through
her tears and said, "You have a daughter, Dana.  A little girl."
     Maggie began crying too, as she reached out a hand to touch the tiny form
of her grandchild.  Dana looked up at her baby in something like awe, but made
no move to hold her.
     "Just a minute -- let me clean this up -- " Melissa set herself to work
cutting the cord.  When she'd done, she handed the infant to Samantha to bathe.
As Melissa busily dealt with the afterbirth, and Maggie took care of her
daughter, Sam dipped her niece in the basin of warm water she'd kept ready.
     Something about the warm liquid comforted the child, stilling her sobs.
Sam held her surely, steadily, bathing the tiny limbs with practiced care.  She
could already see a few red curls, and the round little face -- not much of Fox
in this one, she thought. Still, just the knowledge that she was holding her
beloved brother's child in her arms made her shiver.  It's not the same as
having you here, Fox, but it's wonderful.
     When she'd finished, she wrapped the small infant in the receiving blanket,
and passed her to Melissa, who was grinning madly.  "Here you go, Dana.  Ready
to hold your baby girl?"
     "No -- " Dana whispered.
     "What?  Honey, don't worry, you're not going to drop her; it's all right,"
Margaret cooed, gazing down at the baby.
     "No, no.  I need a minute," Dana said.  "Can I just be -- alone with her
for a second?"
     "Of course," Maggie nodded.  That made sense.  She motioned to Melissa
to nestle the baby next to Dana on the little makeshift futon, and come with her
into the hallway.  She did so, turning backward to look at Samantha, who hadn't
moved.
     "Sam?  Come on, we're going to go into the hallway now."
     Samantha looked up at her dryly.  Melissa was a good woman, but had the
annoying tendency to act as if Sam's mental processes had stopped along with
her life history at eight years of age.  She waved briskly at her, indicating that
they should keep going.  None of you realize it yet, but this is about Fox.  I
need to be here.
     Melissa didn't pick up on the subtext, but went into the hallway with her
arms around her beaming mother.  After the door shut, they sat in silence for
a moment.
     "It's overwhelming," Samantha said -- the first words she'd spoken in
hours.
     Scully nodded, trembling slightly.  Sam clucked her tongue in sympathy.
     "You're out of balance.  Hold on."  She crept to Dana's side, and began
moving her hands gently over her -- stroking Scully's forehead, arms, legs, and
abdomen with a light touch.  Despite the fact that Sam's fingers were barely
touching her, Dana could feel a comforting warmth spreading through her.
Sammie had demonstrated this odd technique before, and right now Dana was of
no mind to question the source.  She sighed gently, relaxing at last.
     Dana turned and gave her daughter a long look.  I'm a mother; am I ready
for that?  It's not the time I would have chosen.  If it weren't for the fact that
this is the only child I'll ever have a chance to have with Mulder, I wouldn't
have gone through with this.  But I'll make the best of it.
     She sighed again, now with something that was both resignation and
acceptance.  "She *is* beautiful, isn't she?"
     "Looks just like you," Samantha agreed, running her hands along the thin
white webbing of stretch marks along Dana's sides.
     They were quiet for a little while longer, until Scully finally spoke.
"That's not the only reason she's beautiful.  She's Fox's daughter too.  And the
final result of our love for each other."
     Sam smiled, but knew Dana wasn't completely comforted yet. "The final
result."
     Dana listened to her own words for a second, then whispered, "The end.
That's why I keep pushing this away -- as long as I had her within me, things
were more or less the same as when Mulder was here.  Her birth changes
everything.  And it means he's truly gone."
     Shaking her head, Samantha lifted the child easily from her mother's side,
holding her expertly before Dana.  "No.  You told me once that I was a part of
my brother's life every day, even though he hadn't seen me in over twenty
years.  No matter how far away Fox is, he's always with us.  Through our
memories, and now through  -- what name did you finally choose?"
     "Rebecca.  Rebecca Margaret Scully."  Dana held her arms out at last; the
act of naming her daughter had made this real for her.  Samantha smiled and
gently deposited the baby into her mother's embrace, carefully balancing the
little head as she did so.
     They sat in a silence too perfect for words for a long moment.  Then
Scully spoke carefully, evenly.  "You certainly know how to take care of babies."
     "Yes.  Yes, I do."  Sam refused to let the memories spoil the moment for
her.  Dana, for her part, looked up with sad eyes at Samantha, convinced at last
of what she had feared since she'd bathed Sammie in the hospital eight months
ago.
     And run her hand over the same sort of stretch marks along her side.

***

     Fox didn't seem surprised.  No reason for him to be.  But his face was
lined with pain at the certain knowledge of what his sister had been asked to
endure.  After a decent pause, he asked roughly, "Only one child?"
     "No.  Fox, this isn't something I can talk about."
     He nodded, and sat heavily on the ground.  Samantha walked slowly around
him in a circle, trying to picture their faces.  It had been so long ago, and for
so short a time --
     She pushed it away, spoke again more evenly.  "Becoming a mother
changed Dana's outlook. Changed Dana herself."
     "Changed her into a woman I don't really know."  Mulder folded his knees
up to his chest, rested his chin upon them.
     "You're wrong there, Fox.  These years *have* transformed her -- but she
is still the woman you remember.  The center of her, the essence of what makes
her Dana Scully -- that's still there.  You just have to reach her."
     "I don't know if she wants to be reached," Mulder whispered.
     Samantha considered that for a second.  "No -- she wants that as much as
you do.  But she's frightened."
     "So am I."
     She patted her brother's shoulder softly, then tugged her sweater a little
more closely around herself.  "I'm going to go back in.  Don't stay out here too
long, okay?"
     Mulder nodded, but didn't even turn to watch as his sister trudged up to
the little green house.
     As Sam stepped in through the back door, she shook her long hair out of
the ponytail and wandered through the house looking for Dana.  She found her
upstairs, checking her email as Becca slept on the sofa nearby.
     "How's he doing?" Scully asked, without even turning from the grey
screen.
     "He's worried.  Alienated -- no puns intended.  But coming along.  Much
stronger than I was at this point."  Dana did look backward at that, sharing a
warm look with the woman who had become closer to her than her own sister.
     Sam HAD been a wreck when she was first returned.  She was a woman of
thirty-four whose only applicable life experience was that of an eight-year-old.
Besides recovering from her tortures, she was hopelessly behind; she'd never
been on a date, gone to junior high much less college.  Never earned a paycheck.
Never ridden a bike.
     There had been times this ignorance had actually provided enjoyment, even
delight.  Scully had been taken aback one night, after she'd been with her about
a month, to find Sammie staring slack-jawed at the television.  After a second,
she turned to Dana and cried, "This is the BEST movie!  What IS this?"
     Star Wars.
     To Samantha, everything was new.  Every song on the radio was something
delightfully original, every old rerun on TV had the potential for surprise.
Scully had reveled in introducing her to the things she'd enjoyed most over the
years to see what Sam would make of them; she screamed her head off at
"Jurassic Park," laughed herself silly at old episodes of "Moonlighting," but
dismissed "E.T." as propaganda. She was thrilled to find out Star Trek HAD come
back after all, though she spent the first few TNG reruns wondering where the
hell Spock was.
     This had its down side, occasionally; Samantha developed a nauseating
fascination with disco that had never truly died, and Scully'd been forced to
scour some second-hand shops once in a desperate search for a BeeGees poster
that Sam actually wanted.  Still, it had been fun sometimes.
     When they left pop culture, and tried to deal with the *life* that Samantha
had left behind, it was far harder.  While she'd become outgoing, even vivacious,
with the people she knew and trusted, strangers, particularly crowds, could
sometimes overwhelm her.  Her education was spotty -- she sometimes displayed
a knack with mathematics or computers that sent chills down Dana's spine.  Yet
she could still only read at perhaps a seventh-grade level, and her handwriting
still looked as if it cried out for one of those fat pencils people use in early
grades.
     Essentially, Scully had realized within a couple of months that Sam would
never be able to live on her own.  While she was a woman of intelligence and
strength, Samantha would always require sheltering and support.
     And Dana had provided that support, without a second thought, or one
regret. Sam had given her infinitely more than she'd taken.
     She was trying to help Dana again now.  "Fox is scared.  Overwhelmed by
the changes in our lives, and in us."
     "I know," Scully said, softly.  "I remember how strange it all seemed to me
when I came back -- and I'd only been gone three months.  That was more than
long enough to make the entire world seem strange.  I can imagine what's he's
going through."
     "But you can't yet go through it with him."
     "No." Scully clicked the computer off, without even reading her last letter.
"I can't -- be what I was to him before. I'm not the *person* I was before."
     "You need to help him find a way to discover the person you are now."
     Dana nodded.  "You're right.  But how?  There's still such a distance
between us -- "
     "You'll find a way," Sammie smiled, then picked the drowsy Rebecca up to
take her to her bed for the afternoon nap.  She didn't doubt that for one second
-- one of the more childlike aspects of Sam's personality was her absolute,
uncritical faith in the woman who had become more than a sister to her now.
Almost a mother.  Certainly Dana was more willing to take on that role than
Claudia Mulder, who had refused her second chance.

***

November 3, 1997
Chilmarc, Massachusetts

     Dana stopped the car in front of the small house where Mulder's mother
lived -- the house Fox and Samantha had grown up in.  Next to her, Sam
shivered slightly; was she remembering?  Good times or bad?  Hard to guess from
the blank expression on her face.
     "Are you sure this is a good idea?" Scully whispered, patting her hand.
     "I want to see her.  I *need* to see her.  She doesn't return your calls,
she hangs up on me -- but maybe when she *sees* me, Dana.  She'll know I'm
her little girl; she'd just know it, wouldn't she?"  The terrible need in Sam's
voice made made Scully bite her lower lip in fear.  This could go incredibly
wrong, she thought.
     Still, if there was any chance, they needed to take it.  Despite all Dana's
attempts to convince Mrs. Mulder that her daughter had truly been returned, to
try and talk to her about Fox's disappearance, she'd never been able to get in
more than a few words edgewise before Claudia found a reason to end the
conversation.  At first, Dana had hoped that it was just shock -- that when Mrs.
Mulder got home from the vacation she'd been taking she would face the
situation.
     That didn't seem to be happening.  And Samantha *needed* her mother.
With her father dead, and her brother vanished, this woman was the only tie Sam
had to the life she'd left behind.  Scully knew it was important for the fragile
person next to her to have as much continuity, as much support, as possible.
While she was beginning to realize that Sammie might be living with her for a
long time, Scully did want Claudia to be a part of her daughter's life.  It would
be the best thing for them both.
     And it would make it a little easier to tell Claudia she was about to be a
grandmother.
     They walked quickly up the steps to the door; to her credit, Sam didn't
hesitate or fumble before knocking loudly on the door.  Pounding, almost.  She
ought to, Dana realized, it's *her* house.
     After a moment, Mrs. Mulder opened the door.  Her jaw dropped in shock
when she saw the two women standing there; for one second, Scully saw
something like hope in her eyes.  But then she narrowed them, tried to shut the
door again.
     Scully threw her hand in the way, ignoring the painful crunch of the
doorjamb; she forced it back open, got them into the hallway. "Damnit, NO.
You've *got* to see her."
     "To see who, Dr. Scully?  Another pretender?"  Even though Mrs. Mulder
knew full well that Dana and Fox had been lovers of long standing, she was still
utterly formal with her.
     "Mama -- LOOK at me.  Don't you know me?"  Samantha's voice was shaky,
her dark eyes wide.  "Look me in the face!"
      Claudia looked at Sam for a long moment.  The same dark hair.  The same
snub nose.  The angular chin so like Fox's.  The wide-set eyes so like Bill's.
     "I've been fooled before.  Not again, thanks."  Mrs. Mulder's voice shook,
and Scully had to fight the urge to reach out and shake this woman senseless.
She *wants* to believe, I can hear it.  Why won't she?  Why can't she?
     Dana fought to control herself; it was hard enough with Sam there,
trembling with hurt, but it was also now sinking in to her that this had been
Fox's house -- that there were childhood pictures of him on the walls, pictures
she had never seen.  In a little league cap.  Kindergarden graduation.  Wearing
a diaper --
     She ran one hand over her still-flat stomach, trying to steady herself.
"Mrs. Mulder, I have talked to this woman for a *long* time.  Everything she
says convinces me that she's truly Samantha.  Beyond that, I've personally
rechecked her fingerprints, dental records, and DNA.  This IS your daughter."
     "No," Claudia shook her head and turned away from the pair, retreating
within herself.  "I won't be hurt again.  I won't lose her again.  I can't do it."
     Sam flung out her arms, as a scolded child begging for forgiveness might.
"Oh, Mama, PLEASE!  *This* is when you're losing me, can't you see that?"
     Dana grabbed one of Samantha's hands to try and comfort her, and spoke
roughly.  "How can you do this to her?  How can you not even try?"
     "Don't you dare presume to lecture me, Dr. Scully.  Not until you've lost
your entire family in ways you cannot understand, that no one will explain.  Not
until you've been a mother and learned what it is to love a child -- and then
have it taken away."
     THAT sent a cold chill down Dana's spine, but she straightened up and
answered, "I *have* lost people.  I lost my father.  I lost Fox.  But I have the
courage to keep going, not to turn away from the others who love me.  And I
hope *I* have the strength to love my baby no matter what happens -- not to
ever become some frightened, bitter woman who can't stop looking out for herself
to take care of her child."
     Claudia's eyes flashed briefly as she realized that Dana was pregnant; for
one second, Scully actually thought she saw the shadow of a smile on her face.
But the angry words drove her back in her shell; Scully could've bitten her
tongue off as Mrs. Mulder drew her cardigan more closely around her.
     "Leave my house," she whispered.
     No strength in that voice, no command, but it didn't matter -- the rejection
was complete.  Sam slumped as she dropped her hands to her sides.
     "Come on, Samantha," Dana sighed.  "We did our best."
     Sam waited one more minute, looking around the room she'd spent so many
hours in.  Many times redecorated, even remodeled -- but she could still see the
places where she'd been told stories, spoiled by an older brother, and loved as
much as any other child in the world.
     Days long past.
     "You stopped looking for me, Mama.  But when you look again, you'll be
able to find me," Samantha whispered, before turning and walking out to the car
without one backward glance.

***

     Claudia Mulder is a fool, Scully thought, looking down at Sam; she'd dozed
off on the sofa, her copy of "Island of the Blue Dolphins" splayed across her
chest.  Dana could only hope Rebecca would grow up to be as wonderful as
Samantha.  She brushed the dark bangs away from Sam's face for a moment, then
turned her attention to the household around her.
     The rest of the day had gone well; Mulder had dozed for a while late in
the afternoon without dreaming at all, Rebecca had woken up from her nap in a
good mood and after a little coaxing even let Fox read a story to her -- Dana's
mouth quirked up a corner, remembering his sleepy voice struggling to put some
drama into "The Poky Little Puppy."  Still, she felt a little queasy in her
stomach; she and Mulder had managed to avoid all but polite conversation since
their confrontation this morning.
     And it was almost time for bed.
     But as she started up the stairs, she heard the sound of a heavy box
being dropped in the study, and Fox's voice cursing softly.  Scully, curious,
headed in to see what was happening.
     Mulder was sitting on the floor; most of his clothes were hung up in the
closet there.  A box containing his few remaining possessions (shoes, et al) as
next to him, a bit strained at the seams.  He caught Scully's surprised expression
and shrugged.
     "I figured this might be the best idea for the time being," he said softly.
     She stood silently for a long moment, then swallowed hard and replied,
"This sofa bed is awful, Mulder.  You're still not well.  Why don't you let me
sleep in here?"
     Fox didn't know whether to be happy that she was still worried about his
welfare, or hurt that she'd accepted the idea of separate bedrooms so easily.
"No -- you're still pretty well settled in over there.  I don't have as much stuff
to move -- thanks to the Great Bonfire."  He grinned ruefully; Scully's
sheepishness about admitting she'd torched his stuff had almost soothed the pain
of losing so many of his possessions.  (Not the "I Want To Believe" poster,
though.  THAT was a bitch.)
     "You're right," she nodded.  Dana stood there a few moments longer, still
uncertain of what to say.  After the pause had become awkward, she turned and
simply walked away.
     It takes time, Mulder reminded himself in an attempt to cheer up.  Yet his
heart was heavy as he did what little unpacking he had to do, and set up the
bed.  Yet just as he was sliding beneath the blankets to try to sleep, there was
a soft tapping at the door.
     "Come in," he said calmly, trying to ignore the pounding in his chest.
     Dana tiptoed inside; the sight of her in her striped men's pajamas was, at
that moment, sexier to Mulder than any negligee could have been.  But her body
language was still stiff, bashful.
     "Mulder, I just wanted to say -- I know you're still having difficult
dreams.  I don't want you going through all this by yourself if you don't feel
you can.  Please -- just say you won't hesitate to call me if you need me, okay?"
     "I won't.  Thanks," he answered, warmed at least by her concern.  Fox
waited for her to turn and go, but apparently she still had something on her
mind.
     "And -- I wanted to give you this."  Scully held out something he hadn't
realized she was carrying; it was a small, cloth-covered book.  A journal, he
realized.  When he looked, puzzled, into her face, she shrugged.  "I was in
therapy for a while when you were gone.  My analyst suggested keeping a
journal in ink instead of typing on the computer; he said it got you deeper in
touch with your feelings.  After a few months, I realized he was right.  I worked
through a lot of my problems by writing in this book; it occurred to me that
maybe if you read it -- you might understand me a little better."
     He accepted the book almost reverently, running one hand along its binder.
"Scully -- you didn't write this for anyone else to see.  This is very personal."
     She nodded.  "There's nobody else in the world I would give this to,
Mulder. But it's okay -- there's nothing in there I wouldn't have said to you if
you'd been with me."
     "Thank you," he whispered.
     After pausing one moment longer, Scully bent down quickly and kissed him
-- although it was only a soft, short kiss, Mulder felt the gentleness he so
missed in her touch.  As she leaned back from him, he touched her cheek.  "I
love you, Scully."
     "I love you too.  Good night."  With that, she tiptoed back out.  For a long
time, Mulder simply stared at the closed door, clutching the journal to his chest
as if it were a life preserver in the middle of a raging sea.
     Behind that door, Scully stood, shaking.  She lifted one hand to touch the
wood, wishing that somehow, there was some way she could go back through that
door -- that holding him close, making love to him as she so longed to do would
magically make everything right.
     But she was old enough to know better.  After a little while, Dana turned
around and went to her empty room.
 

********************
RENEWAL
Part III
by Amy Vincent
********************

May 22, 1998
Jonquil, South Carolina

     "Owww!" Scully protested, as she adjusted her nursing daughter in her
arms.  Maggie cocked an eyebrow at her.  "God, Mom.  I thought feeding your
baby was supposed to be this beautiful, sensual experience."
     "And it's not?" Melissa asked, realizing her mother's shoulders were
shaking with laughter.
     "This kid sucks like a Hoover.  Lord," Dana sighed, adjusting to let the
hungry little person drink her fill.
     "Wait until she's teething," Margaret chuckled.  "Now *that's* when it gets
fun."  Scully's eyes widened in dismay, and Maggie finally had to leave the room
to slow her laughter.
     Dana's predicament wasn't the only thing contributing to Maggie's jubilant
mood; she had other grandchildren, but she'd been instrumental in supporting
Dana through her pregnancy.  Become much closer to her daughter as a result.
And she couldn't help but be happy that something of Fox was left to them; Mrs.
Scully sighed briefly, remembering the young man who'd loved Dana more than
his own life -- in the end, more than anything except his sister's life.
     As if on cue, Samantha appeared at the foot of the stairs.  "Everything
okay?" she asked.
     "Just wonderful, Sam.  How about you?  Are you getting enough rest with
the baby crying at night?" Maggie stroked the younger woman's dark hair.
     "Oh, yes ma'am -- " Sammie started as the doorbell chimed.  "Oh, boy, more
curious friends.  I think we've had half the faculty of McCrory College in here
these last two days."
     Sam bounded towards the door, ready to hug the visitor and grab the
baby gift; yet when she opened it, the pink-ribboned package was held by none
other than Claudia Mulder.
     Maggie had never before seen Mulder's mother, yet she knew her instantly;
if the uncanny resemblance to her son hadn't tipped Margaret off, Samantha's
reaction would have -- the young woman had gone completely pale, and yet was
smiling hesitantly.
     "Mama?" she whispered.
     But Claudia swept by Sam as if the door had simply opened on its own.
She forced a smile as she looked up at Margaret.  "You must be Dana's mother.
I'm -- "
     "I realize who you are, Mrs. Mulder.  I'm rather curious as to why you're
here,"  Maggie said, folding her arms across her chest.
     That stopped her in her tracks.  She stood at the foot of the stairs, just
below Mrs. Scully, looking up at her in confusion.  "Isn't it obvious?  I'm curious
to see my granddaughter."
     "But not your daughter."
     "My daughter *isn't* here," Mrs. Mulder hissed, almost desperately.
     Maggie wasn't beyond feeling pity for this woman; decades of pain and loss
had scarred her deeply.  But that was no excuse for what she was doing to Sam,
who stood trembling only feet away.
     "Then neither is your granddaughter," Margaret replied.
     "What can you mean?"
     "What I mean, Mrs. Mulder, is that there's no point in coming here to
acknowledge one member of your family until you're willing to acknowledge them
all.  And that you aren't welcome in this house, or in Rebecca's life, until you
have the courage to accept your own child."
     "How dare you -- " Claudia was trembling, not so much with anger as with
emotional exhaustion; it had clearly taken all her courage just to walk through
the door.  Maggie felt a twinge of guilt, but suppressed it.  This is the only
way, she reminded herself.
     "I do dare.  And that's final.  Now you can turn around and try to talk
to your younger child or you can just walk out that door."
     Claudia stood there for another long moment, as if trying to find words to
change Margaret's mind.  But then she wheeled around and went back out the
open door, still held by the now-weeping Samantha.  Without one word or
gesture, she hurried back out to her car, still gripping the gift in white-
knuckled hands.
     As she got into the car, Sam slammed the door with all the strength in her
body, then ran to the back of the house.  Margaret sighed, then called up the
stairs.
     "Did I do the right thing?"
     From her room upstairs, where she'd been listening in shock, Dana replied,
"Absolutely."

***

December 23, 1999
 

     Mulder shook his head, as if to clear it, after reading Dana's account in
her journal.  Hearing about his mother's treatment of Samantha made his blood
boil; we prayed for this all these years, Mom, and now you just turned your
back on the miracle?  The miracle I gave up my *life* for?
     Still, even through his anger, he admired Maggie's style.  It took guts to
say that to a woman she didn't know, he thought; but if any woman could do it,
it's Mrs. Scully.
     His thoughts were broken by one small word.  "Daddy?"
     He wheeled around to see Becca standing in the door of the study,
sniffling and holding up a finger for his inspection.  Fox rose from his makeshift
bed to kneel beside her, trying not to let his happiness -- Daddy, she's never
called me that before -- distract him from whatever needed to be done.  "What's
the matter, honey?"
     "Becca fell over," she whimpered; as he took her tiny hand in his own, he
could see a cut, small but bleeding, along Rebecca's forefinger.
     "And you hurt your hand.  Don't worry, it's just a little cut.  We'll go
downstairs to get the bandaid, and wash it off, and then it'll be good as new,
okay?" Mulder felt like he was blithering along like an idiot, but he was so
overjoyed he couldn't care.  She called me Daddy, and she came to me when
something was wrong.  Rebecca trusts me now, she feels like she can depend on
me.
     She loves me, Fox finally allowed himself to think, knowing it was true;
Becca was now smiling up at him through the tears on her chubby cheeks.  A
rush of emotion, of utter protectiveness, swept through him with an intensity
he'd never known  -- he'd never felt anything like this, not for Scully, not for
Sam.
     Only for his daughter.
     "Dinos?" she asked.
     "What?  Oh, the dinosaur bandaids.  You can have whatever kind you want,
Becca," he said, sweeping her up in his arms to carry her downstairs.

     "So, is he still sleeping in the study?"
     "M-O-MMMM," Scully groaned, adjusting the phone beneath her ear to allow
her to toss the salad.
     "Dana, I'm just concerned.  The two of you haven't made as much progress
in patching things up as I would've hoped; not sharing a bed's a pretty good
indicator."
     "You're the soul of tact, you know that?"
     "Tact doesn't solve problems.  In fact, with you and Fox it may be creating
them.  If you're still feeling hurt about what he's done, you have to face him
with it," Maggie insisted.
      Scully paused for a moment.  "I know.  I know.  But I feel guilty -- it's
not like he ran off to Club Med.  He spent the last two years being tortured, for
God's sake."
     "Honey, if I know Fox, the distance between you is hurting him more than
any confrontation ever could."
     As her mother spoke, Scully saw Mulder descending the stairs, Rebecca in
his hands -- with a flash of alarm, she saw the blood on the little girl's hand.
"Oh, Mom, something's come up; I have to go."
     "Call me tomorrow," Margaret managed before Dana'd hung up the phone.
     "What's the matter?" Scully said, holding up her arms to take her
daughter.
     Mulder, reluctant to give her up, said, "She cut her finger; it's not serious
but I was going to wash it up for her -- "
     Dana plucked the child out of his arms without a second thought.  "Here,
honey, let me see."
     "Scully, I can do this; you were busy -- "
     "Don't worry about it," she said, now engrossed in examining Rebecca's
wound.
     Fox stood there a few moments more, feeling awkward and superfluous.
Finally he said, "Well, at least let me take over fixing lunch while you do this."
     "Mulder, no.  I've got everything under control, okay?"  Her voice was
annoyed even through the distraction.
     Angry words rose in his throat, but he forced them back; first by thinking
that it wouldn't reassure Becca at all to hear him shout at her mother, and
secondly through guilt.  She's right -- she's kept things under control here for
a long time.  Who am I to interfere?
     *Rebecca's father,* a voice within him answered, but Fox simply turned and
went back upstairs, trying to ignore the pain.  We used to share every chore
equally, he thought.  She even put up with the omelets so I'd be cooking.  Now
I'm no more than a ghost in this house.  Not Scully's husband.  Not Rebecca's
father.  Just the invalid, trying to stop screaming in the night.
     Yet his frustrations were tempered with understanding; he'd read enough
of Dana's journal now to realize that she'd *had* to take control.  That anything
less would have destroyed her, and perhaps Becca and Sam along with her.  As
he flopped back down on the sofabed, Mulder shivered as he remembered the
entry he'd read yesterday -- just another example of a time when Scully
would've collapsed without anything less than the full power of her courage.

May 21, 1998

     "I can't watch," Frohike said, ducking his head behind his hands.
     "Don't, then," Scully replied curtly, tugging her robe more tightly around
her.  She was still woozy from last night -- Rebecca was less than 12 hours old,
after all -- but Dana knew she could not live even one whole day in suspense.
     Briskly, she took a needle up and pricked her baby's hand.  The shriek
of pain and surprise echoed through the house, and made all three of the Lone
Gunmen jump, but Scully coolly took the thin glass tube and collected a blood
sample.  "You sure you know how to run this machine?" she asked.
     "I'm certain of it," Byers said, grateful to have something to do.  "The
latest thing in genetic scanning; used by our benevolent government to watch
us, track us -- "
     "The tube," Scully reminded him.
     "Gotcha," he said, running it through the scanner.  They all four watched,
in a reverent hush, as the iridescent lights filtered through the blood.  Dana
held the whimpering Rebecca close to her, stilling her sobs as the scanner
continued.
     Finally, its whirring stopped, and blue letters appeared in the screen:
NEGATIVE FOR PATTERN.
     "She doesn't have it!" Langley cried, then winced as Rebecca burst forth
in new crying.
     "You idiot," Frohike snapped, bashing Langley over the head with his cap.
Dana just laughed, holding the squalling infant still closer.  She doesn't have it,
she thought.  Rebecca doesn't have the pattern of UFO abductees.
     She's safe. I can protect her.

***

     By that evening, Mulder had calmed down; the breakthrough with Rebecca
delighted him too much for Scully's reaction to completely depress him.
Samantha, too, had been overjoyed.  "See?  That didn't even take so much time,
really.  When she gets older, she'll never even remember you were gone."
     He hoped not.  Right now, it certainly seemed as if he had never been
away; Becca was rolling a ball back and forth with him, giggling wildly at his
intentionally goofy attempts to field her clumsy pitches.  Even Dana had paused
from her constant work to watch, and had ruffled his hair affectionately.
     "I always knew you had a clown down in there somewhere," she laughed.
     "You make it sound like I'm hiding Bozo behind my spleen.  Here, honey,
I'm gonna roll this one fast, okay?"
     Rebecca nodded her head, and held her little arms out wide. The doorbell
chimed. "I'll get it," Sam offered, unwilling to see the family unit disturbed.
Behind her, Fox bounced the ball once before rolling it towards his daughter.
     She opened the door; Claudia Mulder stood there once again, looking
thinner and older than when Sam had last seen her.  They faced each other, pale
and silent for a long second.
     "Sam?  Who is -- " Dana's voice trailed off as she looked towards the door;
next to her, Fox gasped.
     "GOT IT!" Becca cried, wrapping her arms around the ball, before realizing
that for some reason the game seemed to have stopped.
     "Hello, Mama," Sam said evenly.
     "Samantha," she replied, voice trembling but under control. Scully's eyes
widened in surprise.
     "Hi, Mom.  What brings you to this neck of the woods?"  It had been so
long since Scully'd heard that hard, sarcastic edge to Mulder's voice that she'd
almost forgotten it.
     Mrs. Mulder hadn't forgotten, apparently; she squared her shoulders as if
she'd been expecting this.  "Fox, I had heard that you were -- back home.  Are
you all right?"
     "Peachy keen.  Long way to drive just to get a status report.  Haven't you
ever just let your fingers do the walking?"
     "Fox," Sam warned, her voice low.
     He didn't seem to hear her; Mulder pushed himself to his feet to face his
mother more squarely.  Claudia, however, knew what she had to say.
     "It's Christmas.  I wanted to be with my son.  I wanted to see my
granddaughter.  And -- and I wanted to tell my daughter I'm sorry." She looked
back over at Samantha, whose dark eyes were now glistening with tears.
"Darling, I -- I don't know what to say to you.  To tell you what it's like to feel
that you have no more hope left in you.  All I can say is that I'm so glad you're
all right," her voice cracked in a sob, "and that even if there isn't a place for
me in your life now, I can never be truly unhappy again.  Not if you're alive
and safe and well."
     "Oh, Mama," Sammie whispered, enveloping Claudia in her long-armed
embrace.  "There's always a place for you.  Don't you remember? I told you that
when you were ready to look for me, I would be here."
     Mrs. Mulder took hold of her then, gripping her daughter's shoulders as
if she would never let go.
     Scully bit her lip.  If it were me, she thought, I couldn't forgive so easily.
But I'm not the person who's been wronged here.  That's Samantha.  And if
Samantha chooses to take her mother back into her life, it's not my place to
judge.  Anyway, it was hard not to be moved by the sight of the two women
crying in each other's arms.
     From the floor, Becca whispered, "Who's that?"
     "Rebecca, that's your grandmother," Scully answered.
     "Nuh-uh."  Becca frowned.  Grandma had black hair in a ponytail and
always wore blue jeans.  This lady didn't look like her at all.
     "It's your other grandmother, honey.  Daddy's mother."
     For his part, Fox was studying the two women almost dispassionately.
Then, to his surprise, he found himself wishing desperately for his father.  Dad,
for all the harm you caused us, all the mistakes you made, you'd have given up
anything to be here now.  And as much as I sometimes hated you, I'd do almost
anything to have you see this. "Becca?" he said hoarsely.
     She looked up at him with those hazel-gold eyes -- the only feature she'd
inherited from him.  "Sweetheart, would you like to say hello to your
grandmother? I think she'd like that."
     Dana stared up at him in surprise.  It was utterly unlike Fox to reach out
like this -- to drop his emotional shields and try to connect to someone who'd
been so distant. She watched, speechless, as he lifted Rebecca up in his arms
and walked over to the two women in the doorway.
     Rebecca was confused; they'd been having lots of fun just seconds ago,
and now everybody acted like they were going to cry.  Even this lady with the
gray hair, who was trying to smile at her, had tears streaming down her cheeks
She felt scared, and gripped onto her father's shirt.  He patted her back,
comforting her.  Finally Becca said the only thing she could think of.
     "Hello."  Claudia laughed, and threw her arms around Fox and Becca
together.  Sam gave Mulder an luminescent smile, thanking him without words for
his generosity.  Fox sighed, feeling the last strands of resentment slip from him.
Life's too short, he reminded himself.  The three of us have spent almost 30
years apart.  That's long enough.
     In the living room behind them, Scully kept watching them, her emotions
in a tumult.  For Samantha's sake, she was desperately glad that Mrs. Mulder had
finally come to her senses.  It was good that Rebecca would get to know both
her grandmothers.  And it was nothing short of astonishing to see Mulder behave
this way; that kind of forgiveness, that emotional strength, was something he
hadn't displayed as a younger man -- it was a sign that he was not only
recovering, but maturing beyond the person he'd been before he was abducted.
     All of this was good.
     Why then did she look on the happy family in her house and feel as if she
were a thousand miles away?

     Through all the storytelling and laughter and weeping that filled the rest
of the night, Mulder *did* notice Scully's withdrawal.  She was quiet, reserved.
At first he chalked it up to her desire not to intrude on the family reunion, but
after a while it became clear that she was truly ill at ease.  Later that night,
when Mrs. Mulder and Samantha had bedded down in Sam's downstairs bedroom,
and Dana and Becca were asleep, Fox couldn't help but wonder why.
     Is she still angry at Mom? he wondered.  Wouldn't blame her if she were -
- but it's not like Scully to hold back if she's truly upset.
     At least, it didn't used to be -- Mulder sighed, frustrated again by the
continuing separation between them.  He picked up her journal, by now dog-
eared from his reading, hoping that perhaps this night's entry would provide yet
another clue.

     **May 24, 1998
     I can't believe it; Mom and Rebecca are both asleep, and Melissa's gone to
the grocery store with Sam.  For the first time in days, I actually have a few
minutes of peace and quiet.
     This isn't necessarily a good thing.  With enough silence to hear myself
think, I find myself remembering Mulder more than ever -- I want him here so
badly my bones ache.  I want to see him look down at his daughter in wonder
and awe.  I want to see that happiness wash all the pain away from those
tortured eyes.
     But he gave up this privilege, didn't he?  Gave me up without one word -
- In my darker moments, I find myself wondering whether he wasn't, in some
way, *glad* to leave; whether he wasn't overwhelmed by the commitments between
us.  I threw away everything to follow him; he tried to tell me not to!  Maybe
he wasn't ready to be so totally responsible for me.
     Still, I know that's not true.  At least not entirely.  I haven't had a chance
to write about this yet, but, about two weeks ago, I was going through Mulder's
things.  I was going to give some of his clothes to charity; it would be easier
not to have to look at them, and it would make room for the baby's things.  But
when I picked up a pair of his shoes, I found a ring -- **

     "Oh, DAMN!" Mulder swore.  The ring!  How could he have forgotten that?
Why hadn't he looked for it before now?  As he kept reading, the pain and hurt
in Scully's heart seemed to bleed off the pages; the mental image of her sobbing
as she clutched his note slashed through him, leaving him physically weak.

     **Finally, I managed to get myself up; I decided that if I wasn't going to
wear it, I wanted it the hell out of sight.  This is so awful, but I just took it
and threw it in the cedar chest, which I almost never open.  Someday, later, if
my child needs to know that his or her father really loved us, I can always take
it out.  The only proof I'll have. At least if it's in there, it's safe.**

     After a few long minutes, Fox got out of bed and went over to the cedar
chest, which was in the corner of the study.  There it was -- a tiny grey
velvety box, with a by-now yellowed note crumpled around it.  Mulder unfolded
it with shaking hands, read his two-year-old marriage proposal through the
tearstains that blurred the ink.
     "Oh, Scully, I'm so sorry," he whispered, then thought, why am I saying
this to thin air?  Why hasn't Scully *told* me about any of this herself? How
have we managed to live a month in this house without even talking about what's
wrong?
     Fox got up, began pacing across the floor.  He knew a large part of his
silence stemmed from guilt; he was still furious with himself for hurting Dana so
much.  But then, he asked himself, would I do things differently if I had them
to do over?  Knowing only what I knew then?  Trading for Sam WAS the right
thing to do.  The bravest thing I've ever done.  How long am I going to torture
myself for that?
     The only thing I should've done differently was tell Scully what I was
planning.  And, honestly, I think the secrecy is the only thing she still truly
blames me for.  She *does* still blame me, no matter how hard she tries to be
careful with me.
     Then he stopped in his tracks.
     Oh, hell.  That's it.

***

     Christmas Eve went well.  Mrs. Mulder helped them with the final
decorations and cooking, even baking one of the chocolate pound cakes Fox and
Samantha had both craved since childhood.  Rebecca was now old enough to have
some vague ideas about Santa Claus, and was getting progressively more excited
at the idea of receiving a LOT of toys.
     They all tried to get Claudia to stay for Christmas itself, but she refused;
she hadn't even told her neighbors she was leaving, she'd promised to help with
the church luncheon, etc.  Mulder also suspected that his mother was also not
quite prepared to face Mrs. Scully, who would be flying in tomorrow afternoon.
Still, it was actually an enjoyable visit, filled with old stories and making much
over Becca.  We've still got a lot of patching up to do, he thought, but this is
a good beginning.
     Scully, meanwhile, was still running herself ragged.  Between calling
around to make sure that Melissa, Bill Jr., and Margaret would all be arriving at
the Columbia airport within an hour of each other, trying to watch Claudia's
technique with the cake so that she could duplicate it later, change the dressing
on Becca's litle cut, she still managed to do a thousand other things.  While she
would sometimes let Sam or Fox watch over Rebecca, otherwise she kept moving,
kept trying to remain in complete control.  Mulder kept his silence, but watched
her with new eyes.
     That night, after Mrs. Mulder had tearfully set off in her rental car for
the airport, and Samantha had finally coaxed Rebecca to bed, Dana began towing
boxes out from the car trunk.  Fox plopped down on the floor by the Christmas
tree, and got to work putting together the Lil' Chef Play Kitchen.
     "Mulder, if you're tired, I can handle this," Scully said, touching his hair
briefly.  He smiled up at her, knowing that, truthfully, only concern motivated
her -- but was determined to stand his ground.
     "No way, Scully.  You think I'm gonna pass up the chance to play Santa
for the first time in my life?"
     "If only you'd kept the beard," she chuckled, "you'd look perfect."
     "Excuse me?  I'm not that grey just yet, and not NEARLY that fat."
     "You will be if your mom keeps it up with the pound cakes."
     He grinned back at her, then devoted his attention to figuring out how the
over door attached.
     For the next hour or so, it was almost like old times; they were laughing
and joking about all the gifts, teasing each other, working together.  At one
point, the talking Big Bird *began* talking and wouldn't shut up -- after a few
desperate attempts to hush it so Rebecca wouldn't be awakened, Mulder had to
pretend to smother it under a pillow, and Dana got so hysterical (trying to laugh
silently) that they couldn't get *anything* done.
     But finally, somehow, they got everything arranged perfectly; Scully stood
back to admire the array.  "This looks wonderful.  She's going to love it."
     Fox was still examining a few of the toys.  "I admit, Scully, I'm kind of
surprised you bought the little oven.  Sounds suspiciously like gender
stereotyping to me."
     She swatted at his shoulder.  "I'll have you notice that I've *also* bought
the Lil' Helper Tool Kit.  Hopefully she'll get the hint."
     Mulder thought he saw an opening.  "Don't you think she'd be more likely
to 'get the hint' if she saw equal sharing around the house?  I mean, you've
been carrying a lot of the weight around here for a long time.  Why don't you
let me do more?"
     "You're still not well -- " Dana frowned.
     "The doctor says I'm perfectly healthy.  Psychologically I may still have
a way to go, but the last time I checked, I was okay to put a bandaid on my
daughter's finger.  You're not letting me do these things, Scully, and I want to
do them.  I *need* to do them.  Why are you fighting me?"
     Fox's voice was soft, but Scully still felt her temper flickering into flame.
Being careful to keep her voice steady, she answered "I've been taking care of
her for a long time -- I've been managing *just* fine -- " As her voice rose, she
cut herself off.  "I'm sorry.  We don't need to get into this."
     "The hell we don't," Mulder whispered.
     Dana felt almost panicky.  Why am I acting like this? she wondered, even
as she answered, "Mulder, this isn't the time.  It's Christmas Eve and if we raise
our voices we're going to wake Becca."
     He stared at her for a long moment, and then stalked away toward the hall.
Scully sighed, glad she'd managed to avoid that confrontation -- when suddenly
his hand closed, hard, around her arm.  "What the -- "
     Fox had thrown his winter coat over his clothes, and was holding out her
parka in his other hand.  "Better put it on, if you don't want to freeze," he
muttered; then he began towing her toward the back door -- the only time he
had ever used anything resembling physical force with her.  Half in shock, Dana
began struggling into the coat as they went outside, into the bitingly cold night.
     "What the hell has gotten into you?" she hissed as he shut the back door
behind them.
     "Scully, we can't keep going on like this.  We're not getting any closer --
we're growing further apart!  Just sitting back and being polite isn't going to
change how we feel." Mulder's eyes were wide with pleading.  "Don't you see
that?"
     Dana stood there for a couple of seconds, breathing hard with anger.  But
she forced herself to remain calm.  "Mulder -- I don't want to do this."
     "Why not?"
     "I don't want to hurt you!"
     "THIS is what's hurting me, Scully!  Stop being careful!  Stop taking care
of me for one goddamn second -- "
     "You want me to stop taking care of you?" she cried.  "I'd like to know
just how long you'd last if I -- NO.  I'm not going to do this -- " Dana stalked
away from him, walking away from the house, towards the ice-dark ocean.
     Mulder ran after her, grabbing her arms as her whirled her back to face
him.  "Yes.  Yes, you are.  Damn it, Scully, LET ME HAVE IT.  I deserve it, we
both know it, just let it go!  You need this as much as I do!"
     "I need this?  *I* need this? Who are you to tell me what I need?" Scully
yelled, temper snapping at last.  She threw his hands off her arms and pushed
him away from her savagely.  "You didn't seem to give a damn what I needed
when you ran off and left me!  Without one word, Mulder, not even one word!"
She pushed him again, hands hard against his chest.  He stumbled backwards,
but made no move to protect himself or to speak.
     "I needed *you,* Mulder, when you weren't there!  When I was morning
sick and had to listen to my students laughing at me behind my back -- I got
pregnant so my lover ran off -- don't you realize how they laughed at me? How
awful that was?  I had to hold my head up before all of those people, and I had
to tell myself that I DIDN'T NEED YOU.  And damnit, I don't.  I don't!" She
shoved him yet again, her anger only feeding upon itself, getting stronger.
     "Don't you see what I did on my own?  I had to take care of Rebecca!  I
had to take care of Samantha! None of it was easy but I managed it all; I even
got you back!  I nearly got killed trying to save you, Mulder!  I've HAD to take
care of you, take care of everything; I can handle it!  I can handle ALL of it!"
She slammed her palms into his chest again, this time knocking him completely
off balance; Fox tumbled backwards into the sand.  Dana gasped and pulled her
hands back suddenly, shocked at her outburst.
     Mulder sat before her on the ground; to her surprise, in the faint
moonlight she could actually see a faint smile on his face.  "I know, Scully.
You've handled it all.  More than anybody should ever have to handle.  And
you've done it all on your own.  But you don't have to do it any longer," he
whispered.
     Scully hugged herself, feeling tears well up in her eyes.  She tried to tell
herself it was just the stinging winter breeze, and looked down at her feet.
     His low voice continued, "Scully, I should have told you I was going.  It
was a mistake to keep it from you -- the biggest mistake I ever made in my life.
From the bottom of my soul, I apologize."
     "You've said you were sorry before, Mulder; you always turned around and
kept me in the dark again -- "
     "I know.  I always thought I was strong enough to take on the world on
my own.  That there wasn't anything I couldn't handle. I shut you out to fight
my battles alone -- and found out that I couldn't do it myself.  Learned for the
first time, truly, how much I needed you." Fox felt his throat closing up, made
himself keep going.  "God, Dana, there wasn't one night, one moment of those two
years that I didn't dream of you.  Long for you.  No matter how horrible it was,
I -- just the thought of you could sustain me.  Your courage, your love --
*they're* my truest strength, Scully."
     Dana finally looked into his eyes; tears were streaming down her cheeks
as she stared down at him.  Mulder swallowed hard.  "Don't make the same
mistake I did.  Don't shut me away because you think you can handle this all by
yourself.  You're braver than I ever was but -- we're always stronger together
than alone."
     Through her sobs, Scully choked out, "After everything that's happened,
I'm supposed to believe that you've come back to rescue me?  That from now on,
you'll stand between me and my troubles, protect me from harm?"
     He shook his head.  "No.  I can't promise to do that.  But I can promise
to stand by your side."
     She put her hands over her face and wept; after a moment, Fox pulled
himself onto his knees and embraced her around the waist, pressing the side of
his face into her belly. "I'm so sorry that this is what it took for me to learn,
Scully," he whispered. "Can you forgive me?"
     "Oh, Mulder," Dana answered, letting her hands drop to stroke his dark
hair, his shoulders.  "I can if you'll forgive me -- I've been shutting you off
from Becca, from me -- "
     He leaned back from her to shake his head, "Don't blame yourself.  There's
been enough of that around here.  It's over now -- " Fox murmured.
     Scully let one of her hands drift to brush against his lips as he spoke;
when her fingertips touched his mouth, Mulder kissed them each.  He felt her
shiver at the touch, felt his own heart leap.
     Dana dropped to her own knees to face him.  They looked into each other's
eyes for one moment -- only as long as it took to bring their mouths together.
She wound her arms around him as they kissed, tongues intertwining -- let him
tilt her body back until she was dizzy, off-balance. Fox allowed his lips to
wander from her mouth to touch her cheeks, her forehead, her damp eyelashes.
"I've missed you so," she whispered, running her hands down his back to press
his body even closer to her.
     "Can you be a little more specific?" he said -- she could hear the smile in
his voice.
     "Umm-hmm.  I missed *this* -- " Scully tugged the coat off her shoulders
to let it drop behind her; the chill of the night air was like a blessing against
her glowing skin. She took Fox's hand in her own, guided it to her breast --
they both gasped as he cupped his palm against her.  "Ohh -- and I missed this
-- " Dana pushed her hand through the folds of his coat to run her fingers
down his chest, to the waistband of his jeans; he shuddered as she closed her
hand around the fabric, pulled him close again.
     Mulder claimed her mouth again in a deeper, stronger kiss; despite the
incredible chill in the air, it took every fiber of his self-control to stop himself
from taking her right there in the sand.  When finally he pulled himself away for
a moment, he was panting for breath, shaking with desire -- yet still unable to
speak the words to ask her to go inside with him.
     Scully sensed his reluctance and smiled.  "Let's go inside -- Fox."
     She *only* used his first name in bed.
     "Oh, God -- " he looked back up at the house; she'd run further than he'd
thought during their earlier fight.  Their home, and the bedroom within it,
seemed MUCH too far away.  "Want to race?"
     "Save your strength.  You're going to need it."
 

     Samantha woke from her shallow sleep as the back door slammed; she sat
up groggily, wondering if something had gone wrong with the Christmas plans.
     Then she heard Dana moan in a register she'd never heard from her before
-- then heard Fox whisper something to her, his voice lower, rougher than usual.
     "Oh, my," Sammie whispered, grinning widely in the dark.  Despite her own
relative innocence in such matters, TV and movies had taught her enough to
realize what was going on.  As Sam heard the stumbling footsteps on the stairs,
she set her own alarm clark for 5 a.m.  I'd better wake up Rebecca myself first
thing in the morning, she decided.  Otherwise, she'll run into her mom's room
and get an early education. Or interrupt something.  God knows those two need
to make up for lost time.

     It wasn't, technically speaking, an impressive performance; they were both
too wild with desire to make it last long.  The subtler, gentler aspects of
sensuality were lost to the blinding need to unite, to recapture the closeness
that made the rest of the world disappear. Yet during those few minutes Dana
felt bliss such as she had never known.  They were wrapped around one
another, weeping, moving together ever so gently in the night -- bound together
as if in one skin.
     Never again to be apart.

***

     "Big Bird not talking," Rebecca complained, from within her nest of
wrapping paper and ribbon.
     "I'm sorry, honey; maybe Santa was a little rough with him last night,"
Mulder explained, taking the broken toy in his hands for examination.
     "Big Bird's not the only one," Scully whispered, stroking his back. Fox
shivered, but made himself concentrate on the chore at hand.
     Nearby, Samantha was whirling around, admiring herself in the mirror.
"This silk jacket is *exactly* what I wanted, Dana.  Thanks."
     "The color's okay?"
     "Red's my favorite; you know that!  In fact, I'm going to wear it to the
airport today." Sam tucked her hair up in her barrette and smiled down at
Rebecca.  "You want to come with me to the airport to get Grandma and Uncle
Bill and Aunt Melissa?" The tiny girl nodded her head, auburn curls shaking.
     "Honey, you don't have to do that -- I'd told Mom I would come out to
meet them -- " Dana began.
     "No way.  I've had my license for six months now and you almost *never*
let me drive.  Why, I could *almost* assume you don't trust me." Sam cocked an
eyebrow at Scully.
     Dana was ready to argue the point, then caught Mulder's eye and relaxed.
"That would be great, Sam.  Thanks."
     Samantha found Becca's jacket and pulled it over the eager little girl's
shoulders; Rebecca loved going for a ride.  On their way out the door, Sammie
leaned over and kissed Fox goodbye.  "We probably won't be back for a couple
of hours," she said.
     "Okay," he agreed, keeping his voice regular. Perfect, he thought.
     She kissed Dana too, then whispered, "You left your coat on the beach."
     "Oh! Umm, thanks."  Scully put her hand over her mouth, and Samantha
laughed all the way through the hall as she watched Dana's face.
     "And I thought this coat was red," Sam giggled, as she closed the door
behind them.
     Dana and Fox stared at each other, open-mouthed, for a long second before
collapsing in laughter.  "Oh, God -- just when I start treating her like a child -
- " Scully gasped.
     "I have to hand it to her; she's very perceptive.  I was hoping for a little
more time alone with you," Mulder sighed, pulling her back onto the sofa beside
him.
     "Same here," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck.
     Mulder shook his head, "Not so fast, you wanton creature."
     "Wanton?"
     "Don't misunderstand; I *like* wanton.  There's just something I want to
do first."  Fox shifted out of her embrace and went to the fireplace; Dana
recognized the hastily wrapped little package as something Mulder had slipped
off to fetch earlier in the morning.
     "You're giving me one of my presents late?" she asked, raising one
eyebrow as she held out her hands.
     "You could say that; it's a hell of a lot later than I'd planned to give it
to you.  But maybe I'm still rushing things.  You tell me," Mulder placed the
awkwardly wrapped lump in her outstretched palm.
     Heart thumping in her chest, Dana peeled back the paper and drew in her
breath; she recognized the grey velvet box she'd thrown in the cedar chest a
year and a half ago.
     As she sat there, staring at it, Fox said quietly, "Don't ignore the paper."
Scully realized the wrapping was the note she'd found so long ago, now slightly
yellowed; she could still read the tear-blurred words there: "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?"
     Beneath those words, in newer, blacker ink, it said, "Better late than
never?"
     He'd just written that.  Why then were those words blurry too?  Scully
realized that tears were welling up in her eyes; Mulder reached up with his
thumb to brush them away.  "I meant it then, and I mean it now, Dana. If
anything, I love you even more.  Do you think we're ready?"
     Scully laughed.  "Our daughter's almost two.  We ought to be close."
     Fox smiled, but his eyes remained serious.  "No joking around, Scully.
That was your rule, remember?  I don't want convention or others' opinions to
have anything to do with this. Now, if tradition's important -- " Mulder dropped
to his knees on the sofa in front of her, making her laugh again through fresh
tears.
     "Don't -- it couldn't be any more perfect than this," Dana whispered,
reaching out to take his face in her hands.  They kissed once, briefly, before
she leaned back to open the box, to let him ease the ring around her finger.
     Then Scully slid down from the sofa to take him in her arms; after a few
moments, Mulder lowered her to the floor by the hearth -- the same place he had
first made love to her three years ago.  He began caressing her again, his
memories melding with her passionate response to bring them together once more
in perfect harmony. In complete renewal.

***

THE END