Mr. Mulder
By Shoshana

July Fourth, the crack of dawn

I started having second thoughts about this scheme a few days ago
but it was already too late to cancel out.  It's been stressful, our
first full month in hiding.  It's also been the best and worst time
of my life.

We both miss William, but would never subject a child to the
instability we've lived with since the end of May.  Scully let me
look at the adoption records and even a non-lawyer like I could see
a few legal loopholes worth pursuing.  I didn't bring them up; we
already had enough on our plate to worry about: finding a place to
live, finding one of us a job, keeping the low profile we needed to
stay safe.

I don't mind the disguise.  It's really quite liberating for me
after wearing nicely tailored suits for years.  Even my black leather
jacket had to be replaced; I now wear a bomber-style one, and only
when we go up to San Francisco where it's cooler in summer than it
is in DC.

We have plenty of money, courtesy of our late friends, the Lone
Gunmen.  They had already set up accounts in our phony names,
anticipating our flight underground.  They left plenty more of their
estate to their families and a little to Yves and Jimmy.  Those two
probably didn't need the cash, but could be trusted to carry on
their projects for them.

After a leisurely road trip from Roswell to the Pacific, we decided
to stay on the West Coast.  There are plenty of medical laboratories
and federal facilities out this way.  We only need to infiltrate the
right ones, that's all.

Hopefully, we won't be repeating the same mistake I made at the
shadow government outpost.  I do mean we, this time.  Scully has
laid down the law in no uncertain terms, "No more ditching,
asshole."

I'm happy to oblige her; we are always safer together, especially
now.  If William were still with her, I wouldn't allow her to come
within ten feet of a government facility.  Let me rephrase that, if
William were still with *us*, I wouldn't make the same risky
decisions I did in the last year.

Sadly, he is not with us.  There must be a legal loophole since I
never consented to the adoption.  My name wasn't on his birth
certificate, but that's apparently not the problem.  There are many
other factors involved.  My absence from Scully's life convinced the
agency I wouldn't be protesting her action.  To launch a legitimate
case, we'd have to have stable lives... public lives... and that's
just not feasible now.

I blame myself, of course.  I shouldn't have disappeared so
completely, even though at the time it seemed the most logical way
to go.  She had confidants, people to help her out--she just didn't
have me.

I don't know if I would have done a better job protecting William.
I may never know if we don't find a way of thwarting a process
that started over fifty years ago and may cumulate in the year
2012.  The date is set.  Maybe colonization isn't so firmly set in
stone anymore, now that they know I've discovered their plan, but
it is inevitable if no one exposes the secret workings of our
government.

I thought Scully could have waited longer to see her mother again
but the grief in her eyes when she pulled up our Washington Post
obituary told me otherwise.  I knew she was thinking of her
mother's reactions to those somber words:  'both agents killed in
the line of duty.'  No doubt Skinner had arranged for our dignified
exit, including a funeral with all the trimmings.

San Diego was so close, and the risk seemed plausible if we did it
right.  The first thing we did was contact Skinner through his
secretary.  She'd been more than his secretary for quite awhile and
she recognized our coded E-mail.  It was a big risk, but it paid off
well.  We were able to establish contact with our old boss and he
came through for us, sending Bill Scully, Jr. a cryptic message
about his dry cleaning.

That was almost a month ago.  We've made progress since then.
Bought a condo in Santa Monica.  Found Scully a job in a low-income
clinic about a half-hour away.  Took a week to drive up the coast to
the City by the Bay and back again.

It was the first real vacation we've ever had together.  To tell the
truth, it was not the most harmonious week we've ever spent with
one another.  We had a few, almost bitter arguments about every
decision we'd made in the previous three weeks.

I say 'almost bitter' because we never stomped off, never completely
lost our tempers so irretrievably that we didn't reconcile by the end
of the day.  There were limits to our anger; we had nine years to
perfect our verbal sparring and we did not let it get the best of us.
We watched each magnificent sunset together; gorgeous citrus-colored
hues across the sky, symbolizing the end of each day's contention.

We didn't feel comfortable appearing in public together for one
week after we saw Bill in June.  We still shopped, looked for
employment, jogged around the block separately, for seven days after
our visit to San Diego.  By that time, around the thirteenth of
June, my beard had thoroughly changed my appearance.  My hair was
long and the blond streaks were holding up fine.

I have a whole new wardrobe of clothes and so does Scully.  She
needed one suit to interview in and from her brief observations
around the clinic, will never need again.  They provide scrubs daily
and she doesn't see the need to waste money on clothes.  She
certainly looks a step up from my attire; I'm taking this whole
California casual thing to the limit.  One of these days she's going
to stand in the doorway and demand that I take my latest Hawaiian
shirt and stuff it down the garbage disposal.  Until then, I look
alternately like a yuppie or a beach bum; I dress appropriately for
my day's agenda and not for the suits in the Hoover building.

The stress of hiding has been diminishing but it will never
disappear.  We are always on the lookout, always aware of the people
around us.  We always carry weapons, even to jog or swim.  One
of us always sits on the beach and watches the other's back,
constantly on alert.

The lap pool at our new condo is another story.  We moved in last
week and feel safe enough to swim together, especially late at night.
That, and jogging, have kept us from going crazy.  Things from our
old life we could incorporate into the new; things we could do
together as a couple, not just partners anymore.

I still have to find a job.  Perhaps at a community college or small
university, teaching psychology or sociology.  Sean Morris has an
impressive resume, so it shouldn't be too difficult.  His wife,
Katharine Morris will start work next week, giving innoculations to
children and prescribing blood pressure meds to elderly retirees.

I was a little concerned about Scully's mental state before we saw
her brother.  She'd been sleeping poorly and eating very little.  I
tried my best to calm her nightmares and ended up laying down the
law about meals.  She *had* to eat or we might as well give up and
turn ourselves in, starving fugitives with no purpose in life.  She
started eating full meals shortly thereafter, albeit sometimes
half-heartedly.

After we saw Bill and she was confident her mother would find out
we were alive soon, she slept much better and ate without prodding.
I knew she needed them in her life and taking a calculated risk was
well worth it.  It helped get her mind off William and on to the
other things we had to accomplish this past month.

Now, lying next to Scully as dawn breaks through the slats of the
beach house windows, I worry about the safety of her family.  I go
through a mental checklist of what could go wrong while we are all
here at this nice vacation home.

Surveillance:  We did the best we could, renting the beach house
the other day through a realtor, coming here late last night by
bicycle and checking the place out for bugs.

Security:  All the outside lights are working, we have our weapons
with us and we'll stay inside the house for as long as we visit with
the family.  No one saw us enter the house as far as we know.  It's
a busy week for people anyway, July Fourth is on a Thursday and most
of our neighbors will arrive this afternoon.

Bill and his family have the use of the place all weekend.  Some
primal need has been driving me since I started looking for one of
these overpriced hideaways.  I need to show them I can provide for
Scully, even under the most extreme circumstances.  We are
fugitives, but we ain't broke yet.

There are four bedrooms here, enough breathing space for all of
us.  We told them we could only spend a day but we'll try for
longer.  We may not see Maggie again until Christmas and I know
Scully will miss her desperately.

I'd suggest that her Mom move out here but that might arouse
someone's suspicions.  Whose, I really can't say.  I don't know who
or what is looking for us anymore.  Skinner said he'd try to work a
deal, but I'm not really counting on it.  I fully expect to be Sean
Morris for a good long time.

We can still beat them, I know it.  Anonymity gives us
unprecedented mobility and I intend to use it.  We can still make
new contacts; we can use our covers as doctor or professor to gain
access to places that have medical and government records.  And
there's always Skinner.  He's behind us one hundred per cent, I know
that.

"Mulder?"

Ah, she awakes.

"Mmm..." I hum, cuddling her closer now that I know I won't disturb
her sleep.

"How long have you been awake?" she says, sliding into my embrace.

"Not long."

"Liar," she says with a smile.  I can't see it but I know it's there.

"Hour," I own up.

"Worried?"

"Nah.  We're okay.  Can't do much more than we have."

"We'll be careful, Mulder," she says, turning in my arms to look
me in the eye.

I can see her eyes sparkle in the morning light.  There's nothing
like it, no blue that affects me so profoundly.

I lean over and kiss her softly, smoothing her sleep-tossed hair.
"I know," I say when our lips part.  I smile at her and ask, "Hey,
remember what I told you Bill called me when we first met?"

Scully gives it some thought and responds, "You mean, Mr. Mulder?"

"Yeah."

"What about it?" she questions, a  slightly puzzled frown across her
face.

"Who am I to him now?" I ask cautiously.

We've never had this conversation before and I can't believe I
willingly brought it up.

Scully smiles without reserve, reaching out to play with the gold
band around my ring finger.  "His brother."

fin

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