By: ML
msnsc21@aol.com
 

Date: 9 Aug 2001 00:52:48 -0000
Distribution: IWTB, Ephemeral, Gossamer, yes; otherwise,
please let me know and leave headers, etc. attached.  Please
archive both parts of this story together.  Thank you.
Spoilers: S7 and back
Rating: PG-13 for adult situations
Classification: story
Summary:  after Mulder's return in "Age Cannot Wither,"
life goes on.

Disclaimer: The characters mentioned in this story are the
property of TenThirteen, Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting,
and the actors who gave them life.  I mean no infringement,
and I'm not making any money from this.

Note:  This is a sequel to "Age Cannot Wither." If you
haven't read it, you might want to before reading this one.

Acknowledgment: To Brandon Ray.  Many thanks for your
comments and suggestions!
 

Nor Custom Stale
by ML

He wakes up first most mornings.  It's an old habit.

He likes to lie there, watching Scully sleep.  He likes to
see the slight rise and fall of her body, hear her soft
inhale and exhale.  He especially likes it when she's
sleeping facing him, so he can watch the infinitesimal
movements of her eyes under her lids.  He hopes she's
dreaming of him.  He knows he dreams of her, and some
mornings when he wakes up, he still thinks he's dreaming.

If he stays very still, sometimes he can make himself
think he's back in DC, in Scully's apartment, and that
none of the intervening years have happened.

He expects to wake up in a cold, featureless space,
held captive in unseen fetters, never in control of
his body, only sometimes in control of his mind.

It's only in dreams that he seems to have any memories of
his abduction and captivity, and those are fleeting and
obscure.  When awake, try as he might, he can summon nothing.

Now more than ever Scully is his constant.  She's lived
through it all, she is his guide in this brave new/old world.

It's the little things that are strange --things he took
for granted before.  Kitchen appliances, for example.
And the texture of materials is different; they smell
different too.  How much of that is due to his senses
being in a state of sensory deprivation for so long,
he's not sure.

Food --produce, especially-- doesn't look the same.
Some of the fruits and vegetables are familiar, but there
are so many hybridized plants that seeing a familiar one
pleases him all out of proportion.  Scully is patient with
his surprise and uncertainty.  For her, this all happened
so gradually it's like nothing has really changed for her.
 For Mulder, it's definite culture shock.

But at night, alone with Scully, with only the sight and
scent of her surrounding him, time ceases to exist in any
meaningful way.  It's as though he never left, and this
alone makes everything else bearable.

x-x-x

In the weeks since he's been returned, they have developed
a routine.  At first, having a routine is a novelty in and
of itself.  Yes, they had jobs to go to before, and there
was a certain pattern to their days, but not like this.

On days that Scully works, Mulder gets up, showers and
shaves, makes the coffee.  They eat breakfast together and
he gives her a kiss and watches her drive off in her funny
little electric car.  Then he gets on the computer or
watches some of the recordings Scully has gotten for him.
He goes for a run, though he avoids the old forest road
when he's alone.

He doesn't really like having Scully out of his sight but
he doesn't want to crowd her, either.  She has accepted
him so willingly into her life --hell, with open, loving
arms-- and he doesn't want to screw that up.

When Scully is at work, he finds plenty to occupy his days
in those first weeks.  Scully keeps him well supplied with
reading materials and recordings of history.  Mulder
spends days immersing himself in the history of Scully's
world, all the things which occurred while he was
somewhere else.

It's enough to keep him busy for a while, and more or less
keep him out of mischief while Scully's at work.  Little
 by little he discovers other things he can do, too.

He finds that he likes to cook, and has some fun figuring
out all the odd devices in the kitchen designed to make
the job easier.  He especially likes the sonic cleaner
and the instant recycler, both which eliminate any mistakes
without a trace.  It's fun to whip some new dish up and
surprise Scully with it when she comes home.

His favorite part of the day is when Scully comes home.
No matter where he is in the little house, no matter what
he's doing, he's attuned to her arrival.

That first glimpse of her face, the smile that makes her
eyes light up and that he knows ignites an answering spark
in his own.  He marvels anew at the fact that he is here
now, with Scully.

One night he greets Scully at the door wearing a voluminous
chef's apron.  When he turns to lead her into the dining
room, he is gratified by her shriek of delighted laughter
as she sees that all he has on under the apron is a thong.

Dinner is very late that night.

On another night, after a day of watching old sports
programs, he asks Scully, "Do people still play baseball?"

Scully looks at him, startled, but then smiles.  "Of course,
Mulder.  And basketball, and the Olympics.  Hyped just as
much as it ever was, sadly."

The following day, Scully arranges for delivery of a
portable basketball hoop.  When she comes home that night,
she has a basketball and an invitation to shoot hoops with
a couple of the guys at the hospital.  It becomes a part
of his routine.

Maybe it's too much of a good thing.  Maybe the routine
itself is the problem.

Scully seems okay with things the way they are, but she
also has the stimulation of a job to go to, even though
it's nothing like what she used to do.  Instead of cutting
up dead people, she gets to heal living ones.  She's
adapted, she's moved on.  He wonders, though, if she
misses the old life.

Mulder thinks about where he is now.  He thinks about
before.  He thinks about all the questions he still
doesn't have answers to, large and small.

Scully has changed.  Not in essentials, of course;
everything Mulder loved about her before is still true,
still there.  But he mourns what he missed.

He wants his life back, and he wants hers, too.  Every
minute of it.  He wants to see what she's seen, to have
experienced her life.

x-x-x

On Scully's days off, sometimes they just stay in bed all
day.  He doesn't remember Scully giggling so much before,
either in or out of bed, but he's become addicted to the
sound.  They make love, they talk, they share memories of
their lives together before.  They watch movies.  Scully
has managed to dig up some old favorites.

"I hate to admit it, Mulder," she says with a show of
great reluctance, "but `Caddyshack' has somehow withstood
the test of time."  There's a memory they share, and a
sweet one at that.  Who'd've thought that Rodney
Dangerfield and Bill Murray would act as aphrodisiacs?

It's not all fun and games, however.  As they get to know
each other again, much of what Scully has to tell him is
difficult and painful, and not just for her.  Although for
Scully, many, many years have passed, he can see that what
she felt then is still fresh to her.  He feels her pain as
well as his own.  Pain for having missed so much, for having
caused hurt to Scully and others.  Added to this is a
feeling of helplessness, and frustration at having nothing
but blankness in his memory.  How could so much time have
passed with him unaware, and with no memory of it at all?
He feels like Rip van Winkel.

If he can't have memories of his own, he wants Scully's.
He's impatient to know everything now.   Nonetheless, he
doesn't want to spend all his time with Scully asking her
questions.  He also wants just to be with her, to experience
her as she is now.

Scully seems to feel the same way.  She's obviously very
happy to have him back, she shows it in so many ways, from
the way she looks at him to the way she is always reaching
for him, as if to reassure herself that he is there, and
real.  But she hasn't pressed him to remember any details
of what happened to him, and she doesn't try to overwhelm
him with her own story.  This is just like the Scully of
old; he'd always had to nag her to tell him things.

But even Scully knows there are some things that can't wait.

The first morning after she brought him home, Scully sat
them both down at the table in the kitchen.  She kept hold
of Mulder's hand, but couldn't meet his eyes.  Mulder could
feel both her reluctance and her determination and waited
as quietly as he could while she gathered her thoughts.

"I need to tell you some things, but I'm not sure how to
begin," she said.

Mulder wasn't sure he liked the sound of this at all, but
he kept still.  The silence stretched on, and finally Mulder
said, "You know, whatever it is, it's kept this long.  It'll
keep a while longer."  He felt a churning in his stomach.
He wanted to say, tell me now, get it over with so I can
figure out how to deal with it and move on.  And so can
you.  I hope we can.

It seemed so unfair that now she's found him, there was
still so much stuff for them to work through.  That she
had to experience lifetimes without him, and now he had
to play catch up.  He wondered if he will ever be able
to, if this life will ever stop seeming strange to him.

Scully looked so distressed that he put his own distress
aside and tried for her sake to inject a little levity.

"Scully, just do what they say in `Alice in Wonderland.'
Begin at the beginning, go on to the end, and then stop.
Maybe you could start by telling me what you did when I
was first gone."  It's extraordinary how hard it was to
say that.

"I tried to go on with my life, and with your work,"  she
said.  "It was so hard, and it never seemed to get any
easier.  Though I think the first lifetime was the hardest,
in some ways it was also the happiest," she said with a sad
smile.

"How so, Scully?  Tell me."  Mulder moved to sit closer to
her and put his arm around her.  She leaned her head against
his shoulder.

"Well, to begin with, I had you...but then I lost you, and
I lost everyone else I loved in that time.  I lost you,
then one by one, I lost Skinner, the Gunmen, my mother..."

Mulder felt like a fool.  He should have known.

"I'm so sorry, Scully," he said softly.  "You must have
been terribly lonely," he added.  "What made you happy
during that time?  I hope you found someone to be with."
He didn't really hope that, but he was trying to be
noble about it.  After all, what good was he to her
during that time?  Memories can't warm you, can't give
you a hug when you need one, or tell you how loved you
are.

She smiled again, a degree or so happier.  Mulder felt
the clench of jealousy.  He wanted to know, but didn't
want to have to hear it.

"No, I wasn't entirely alone," she said.  "I had a
traveling companion for almost seventy-five years."

"Tell me about him," Mulder said after a long moment.
He watched her face flicker with memories of whoever
this person was, and it was obvious that she loved him.
It was certainly a "him," and it pained Mulder to know
it.

"He was a very special person," Scully told him.  She
closed her eyes for a moment, and he could see tears
gathering in the corners, ready to come out.  "He was
open to extreme possibilities, and deeply committed
to finding the truth.  He looked a lot like you.  I
think you would have liked him, Mulder.  You have a
lot in common with him."

I beg to differ, Mulder thought, but it could have
been true.  If he'd been around, Scully probably
wouldn't have fallen for this guy, but they might
have been friends.  He must have been an okay guy
if Scully liked him.

"When did you meet this guy?"  Mulder asked.  He was
determined to be an adult about this if it killed him.
He owed Scully several lifetimes of favors, though
hearing about this guy and being nice about it might
use them all up in one go.  "Did I know him?"

"Not in the widely accepted definition of the word,"
Scully said.  "But he knew you."

Mulder gave her a puzzled look.  "So he was...what?
FBI? Come on, Scully, quit with the mystery and tell
me."  He knew she'd had a partner after he'd been
taken, but she'd described him as a skeptic.  Besides,
she wouldn't have taken up with someone so quickly
after he'd gone.  He'd have bet money that she'd wait
a long, long time...

"Did you know him before I was gone?"  Mulder pressed
her.  Might as well know the whole story.

"I met him not long after you were taken,"  Scully
confessed.

This was *not* good.  He could feel his jaw tightening.

"Do you want to know his name?"  Scully had a sparkle
in her eyes now.  She was enjoying this far too much.
Why was she enjoying this?

Mulder took a deep, slow breath and did his best to relax.
"Okay," he muttered.  "What was his name?"

Scully said, very slowly and deliberately, "His name was
William Samuel Scully."  She watched Mulder as he thought
about this.

"Scully," he said with sudden comprehension.  "You had a
baby after all."

She nodded, pursing her lips either to keep from crying
or keep from laughing.  The tears ran freely down her
cheeks now.

"How...when...did you try the IVF again?"  Mulder wasn't
sure if he was happy or just relieved at this revelation.
Happy for Scully, sure.  But he wasn't sure what it meant
in terms of his involvement.  His mind raced through all
the possibilities.  It could have been a donor egg
implanted, maybe using his sperm, maybe not...Or,
adoption?  A surrogate?  Scully hadn't wanted to
think of other alternatives at first after the IVF
failed, but maybe she'd come around...the only
impossibility as far as he could see was that they'd
made the baby themselves, without outside intervention
of some kind.

"No, I didn't do IVF again.  No one could explain how it
happened, least of all myself...but it seems that somehow,
in some way, I was able to conceive in the usual way."
She reached out for his hand.  "You and I, Mulder.  We did
it together."

A son.  He'd had a son.  It was incomprehensible.  He would
have said, "inconceivable," but evidently that wasn't true.

He was pierced with a sadness he thought he'd never feel
again, akin to how he felt when Samantha was taken.  He'd
had a son, and he never knew him.

Scully watched him silently as he processed this.

Finally he said,  "What was he like, Scully?"

She smiled through her tears.  "He was smart, funny,
compassionate, handsome, loving.  He was about your
height, and had your eyes.  He loved baseball.  He had
a fantastic memory.  He was everything I could have
asked for.  You would have loved him, Mulder."

"Of course I would have loved him, Scully, he was your
son."

"And yours, Mulder.  He was so much like you.  Having him
in my life is what made not having you bearable for a long
time.  When Will died, I felt that I'd lost my only link
with my real life.  My last link with you."

So many regrets, so much lost time.  Scully didn't look
much older to him than she had when he first went away,
until he looked  deep into her eyes.  There all the pain
and loneliness of the long, long years resided.  He would
give anything to take that pain away.  He would shoulder it himself, if he could.

x-x-x

They spend much of their first weeks together talking,
talking, talking.  The revelations get less difficult as
Scully moves further away from her first lifetime.

It's what he likes best: hearing Scully's personal
history, from her directly.  Even if it's painful
to him, he wants to know everything.  He welcomes
the pain.  He wants to share that with Scully, too.

Certainly there are no revelations as startling, or
as unexpectedly painful, as the fact that he had a
son he never knew, and never will know.

He still can't quite wrap his mind around the fact
that he's been returned after such a long time, and
that Scully lived through that time, never aging.

They've talked about that, too, in the weeks since
his return.  That's one of the changes:  that Scully
is so willing to accept what has happened.  Scully as
a believer is a concept Mulder has trouble with.  But
she is the one who has experienced several lifetimes;
she has no choice but to believe what she's lived.

"Mulder, I denied it for a long time," she said.  "I
didn't want to believe it, but it is true."

"Do you remember," he said tentatively,  "that case
with the photographer?  The one you went on without me?"

That's the way he remembers it.  She went on a case
without him, and she almost died because of it.  But
afterward, she'd told him what Alfred Fellig did.  She
didn't exactly share her fears of what it meant with
Mulder, but he could tell from her steady, no-nonsense
retelling that she feared it.  Feared it, but didn't
believe it.

"There was something else, even earlier than that,"
she told him.  "Remember Clyde Bruckman?"

Oh yeah.  The guy who implied he, Mulder, was marked
out for a particularly undignified death.  Well,
look at me now, Bruckman.  Not much chance of that
now, is there?  He nodded casually at Scully, and
said merely,  "What about him?"

"He offered to tell me how I'd die," she said in a matter-
of- fact tone, "and I finally broke down and let him."
She paused, considering her words carefully.  "And he
told me, `You don't.'"

That case was pretty early in their partnership, and
Mulder knew that at that time, she would have dismissed
Bruckman's words without a second thought.  Then, to
have this other case happen...

"I didn't believe him," Scully said unnecessarily.
"He also told me that I'd end up in bed with him."

Mulder snorted at that.

"He was right, as far as it went," Scully reminded him.
"Remember how we found him?  It still didn't make me
believe him.  But since then, I have wondered..."

"Yet here you are, and here I am," he said.  "And we *do*
appear to be aging normally, now."

"As near as I can tell, Mulder," she agreed.  "Time will
be the ultimate proof of that."

x-x-x

Now, their almost-idyllic summer is drawing to a close.
Mulder has found himself increasingly restless over the
past week or so.  Not that he's unhappy, being with
Scully, but it's Scully's life he's in, not a life
they've built together.  It's Scully's world he has
come to, and he still isn't sure of his place in it.

Is this what it was like for Scully, all those years
ago?  How did she feel when she came to the basement
on that first day, and was swept into a world she
knew nothing about, and had to struggle to get a
handhold on?

Is she sorry that he reappeared, to upset her life?
Except for a few mementos, Scully has traveled lightly
through the years.  She hasn't dragged all her baggage
along with her from place to place.  Now, with his
reappearance, she has had to relive all those memories
and associations she'd left behind.

He wonders if it might have been kinder to her if he'd
never come back.  Not that it appears he's been given
any choice in the matter; his return seems more arbitrary
than his abduction.  But he's here now, and disappearing
again is not an option, he realizes.  Going away would
only cause Scully more pain.

He needs to figure out how to live his life in this brave
new world.  Where does he fit in?  What does he want to
do, now that he's grown up?

He hasn't talked to her about this.  He doesn't want to
sound ungrateful, or to worry her.

x-x-x

Once he's mastered the new operating system (though he
still prefers his hunt-and-peck on the keyboard to voice
commands), Mulder begins to explore his new world, and
to try and find his place in it.

He takes armchair tours of the cities he used to know.
He explores the on-line encyclopedias, randomly choosing
topics and reading everything he can find.
 
It's interesting to see so many of the issues that seemed
so important in an earlier day treated as a footnote in
the passage of time.  It gives him an entirely different
perspective.  He remembers some flippant comments he made
to the passengers of the Queen Anne, that trip to the
Triangle that might (or might not) have happened.  He'd
been pretty cavalier about the past that was their
present.  Now that it's his past he's looking at,
he feels  a little differently about it.

He looks for evidence of the Consortium, of alien
occupation or activity of any kind.  He finds a MUFON
website and reads the latest.  It doesn't actually
sound much different than what he's read in the past.
Scully has told him that Bellefleur still has a certain
reputation amongst aficionados, but she hadn't seen
anything out of the ordinary until the night Mulder turned
up.

Evidently there are no alien conspiracies to uncover any
longer.  Was his abduction the last salvo in a war that
was neither won nor lost?  Is there still an alien threat
out there, somewhere?  There's still something like the
FBI, though like everything else, it's become more global.
He types in "X-Files" on the FBI site and comes up empty.

Scully told him that her new partner took over the X-Files
while she was on maternity leave.  When she returned, she
had been unable to do the traveling she'd done previously,
and Chesty Short got his wish in one respect--Scully spent
more time researching leads from the office, on the
computer, than she did in the field.

Evidence of alien activity seemed to die out at about the
same time Will was born, Scully told him.  Maybe it was
coincidental, but she wondered if Will was supposed to be
something he turned out not to be.  There had been times
during her pregnancy that she'd worried Will would be
taken from her, and if there'd been anything unusual about
him, maybe things would have turned out differently.

"I can't explain it, Mulder," Scully told him.  "Just
before Will was born, reports of abductees being returned
started coming in.  Several were returned right here,
in Bellefleur.  Theresa Hoese and her husband were among
the first.  They had no memory of where they'd been, or
of anyone else there with them.  No one could tell me
if you were there or not."

It is a mystery, and he wonders if he will ever get to the
bottom of it.  He'd been a damned good investigator, in
his day; but this is more like archeology than police
work.  All the witnesses are long gone, with the exception
of Scully.

Does he want to go traipsing all over the world, following
up leads long cold?  Scully had done just that, she told
him, with Will in tow.  Would covering the same ground
again, after all this time, be worth it?

Maybe he owes it to himself and to Scully to at least try.

Besides, what else is he going to do?

There are still schools.  He could teach, but what?  He
has no idea what advances have been made in his field over
time.People still read books and newspapers; he could
write, but what about?  Ancient history?  Once upon a
time, invasion was imminent?  The story of two brave,
misunderstood agents who bucked the odds to stop it?

Is science fiction still a viable genre, or has reality
outstripped fantasy?

He doesn't want to be restless, but he is.  He wants to
be content where he is.

The fact remains that he isn't.

It's got nothing to do with Scully.  It's in him.

The thought comes unbidden to him that maybe if he hadn't
been taken, if he'd had Will to be a father to, he'd have
learned to enjoy a normal life.

He's always heard that you can't miss what you've never
had.  Now he wonders how true that saying is.  He misses
the child he never had.  He misses the life he could have
had with Scully.

x-x-x

end of Part One; concluded in Part Two

x-x-x

Nor Custom Stale (2 of 2)
by ML

Part Two of two.  Disclaimers, etc. in Part One.

Scully has noticed his restlessness.  He sees her watching
him, probably wondering what's going on in his head.  He
wishes he could figure out a way to tell her without
sounding whiny or ungrateful.

"Mulder, why don't you come to the hospital and have lunch
with me today?"  Scully asks one morning as she gets ready
for work.  "You could drop me off this morning, and come
back at lunch.  Maybe you'd like to go into town or
something."

Mulder makes a show of considering his options.  "Well,
I don't know.  My favorite talk show comes on at noon,
and I have to get the laundry done..."

She silences him with a kiss.  "I miss you.  Please come."

He actually likes visiting Scully at the hospital, hard
though it was to admit at first.  She is so obviously
well-liked there, and by extension, people seem to like
him, too.  For some strange reason, his appearance in
Bellefleur seems to enhance Dr. Scully's standing in
the community.

He isn't used to people being genuinely friendly to him,
and at first it makes him feel standoffish.  But after
a while he realizes that no one here means him harm.

He goes into town and talks with people there.  So many
things are the same, and yet not the same.  People are
still people.  They dress funny to his eyes, and their
hair sometimes looks strange to him, but in essentials
they are unchanged.

Going into town and seeing other people helps his
restlessness somewhat, as Scully must have realized.
It also stirs him up a little more, makes him curious
to see more of the world that he can observe through
television or computer screen.

He won't leave Scully, however.  She seems so happy here,
and there have been comparatively few periods since he's
known her when she's seemed truly happy.  He's afraid,
however, his dissatisfaction will begin to affect her
happiness.  He has to figure out what to say to her.

Scully saves him the trouble by bringing it up herself
one evening at dinner.

"You're not happy here, Mulder, are you?"  she asks him
point-blank.

"I'm happy with you," he replies, wanting to be sure she
knows that.  "If you're here, I'm happy."

"Mulder."  Scully reaches for his hand and says softly.
"I know that.  I have never, for one minute, doubted that.
But you're not happy *here*.  Is it Bellefleur?"

He shakes his head no.  "I don't know what it is, Scully.
I don't know what to do with myself."

"So do you want to leave?" Scully looks him straight in
the eyes, her own expression neutral.

"Not without you," he says, meeting her gaze, and he sees
relief in her eyes.  Had she really thought he'd
contemplate leaving here without her?

"You don't have to feel obligated to stay with me,
Mulder," she continues, as if determined to say what
 she's rehearsed.  "You don't owe me anything.  In
fact, it's pretty much the reverse."

"Huh?"  In his karmic bank account, Mulder knows how
far in Scully's debt he is, and has been, almost since
the beginning of their partnership.

Scully says patiently,  "Whose money do you think has
financed my travels all these years?"

"Well, I just figured you always worked, Scully."  He
really hasn't given it much thought at all, except to
learn the "new" payment methods.  He hasn't done much
transacting himself, but has been with Scully to places
 where business is conducted through a combination of
debit cards and a complicated bartering system.

"The seed money was yours, Mulder," Scully tells him now.
"I've never had to work, but I've wanted to.  I've always
wanted to be a part of the world, not separate from it."

Mulder knows she doesn't mean to sting him with her words,
but she has.  Somehow, he's responsible for her Alfred
Fellig-like existence.  How can she say she owes him
anything?

"Mulder." He looks back at her.  "You are not to blame
for any of this.  I don't blame you, and you need to
stop blaming yourself.  I think much of what happened
to you was planned --if not pre-ordained-- when you
were born, or maybe even before that."

"Do you think that your getting pregnant was pre-ordained
too?"  He registers the shock in Scully's eyes and
instantly regrets saying it.  He's not even sure why
he did; it seemed to come out of left field.

The tears shine in her eyes as she says, "Yes, Mulder, I
do, but not in the way you think.  I think having Will was
a miracle.  It came with a price, though.  That's something
that no one ever talks about.  Miracles often have a price."

Mulder mutters, "Yeah, part of the price is having an idiot
for a father.  I'm sorry, Scully.  Sorry for what you had
to go through, and sorry I wasn't there for you.  Maybe
it's better I wasn't there, though.  I don't know that
I'd have been a very good father figure.  I didn't have
a very good example."

She comes over to where he's sitting and puts her arms
around him, resting her chin on his shoulder.  "I think
you would have made a great father, Mulder.  I wish you
could have been there, but I don't blame you for any of
it.  You paid for the miracle, same as I did.  And you
didn't get any of the benefits."

Mulder tugs on her arm and turns in his chair, pulling
her into his lap.  "Maybe it's time I started collecting
some of them now," he suggests.

Scully cups his face in her hands and he tilts his face
up, pursing his lips and raising his eyebrows.  She takes
the hint and leans into him, pressing soft kisses all
around his face until he growls with impatience and
pulls her in for a little serious lip-lock.

It's almost enough to make him forget any worries he
has.  When he has Scully in his arms, and he feels her
mouth on his, nothing else really matters.  He wants
to be sure that she knows that no matter what, she is
the center of his world.

Scully relaxes into his arms.  He cradles her head with
one hand and lets his actions complete the reassurance of
his words.  Her response to him is reassuring to him as
well.  As long as they can be together, everything will
be okay...

He's not sure how long they've been sitting at the table,
kissing and murmuring to each other, but he thinks it's
about time they moved to someplace more comfortable.

Scully stirs a little in his arms as he shifts her around.
She mutters something into his neck.

"Shh," he says, but she pulls away a little and looks at him
with questions still in her eyes.

"You didn't really answer my question earlier, Mulder," she
reminds him.  "Are you bored?"

He looks down at Scully, her eyes heavy-lidded and her
lips enticingly swollen from his kisses.  "Right now?"
he chuckles.  "I don't think I've ever had that question
asked in this situation before."

Scully pulls herself away little more.  "I'm serious,
Mulder."

"So am I, Scully.  How can you expect me to answer other
than `no' at this moment?"  He's not sure he wants to
continue this conversation at the present moment.  Maybe
if he just kisses her again...

But he should know better with Scully.  She pushes against
his chest and stands up.  "Meet me in the living room," she
says, and marches out.

With a groan, Mulder complies.  Not that he has any choice.
He should have known that now the subject is broached,
Scully will want to resolve it.  He might let himself get
distracted, but Scully will keep him on task, as usual.

He notices Scully has chosen to sit in an armchair rather
than the sofa.  With a sigh, he sits facing her.

"Before you say anything else, Mulder, I have to tell you
I expected you to be bored long before this.  I think this
is the longest `vacation' you've ever had.  Except maybe
for enforced hospital stays."  She allows herself a small
smile as she says this.

"I'm not really bored, Scully, it's just...what can I do?"
he asks a little plaintively.  "I don't wanna just sit
around all day, or shoot hoops, or surf the `net.  I feel
like I'm a non-person.  My resume is really outdated.
I have the feeling that my particular area of expertise
isn't in great demand."

"Mulder, I know you can do anything you set your mind to
doing."  Scully smiles a little more broadly.  "Don't worry
about credentials; the Gunmen taught me a thing or two.  If
you want to teach, we can get your degree and curriculum
vitae updated without too much trouble."

Mulder is tickled and a little shocked.  "Dana Katherine
Scully!  You'd falsify documents for me?"  He puts his
hand over his heart.  "I think I'm in love."

"You should have seen the look on Frohike's face when I
asked him to help me," Scully laughs, and then turns a
little more serious again.  "I don't guess you want to
be a kept man, Mulder, but it's okay with me."

"As long as you're the one doing the keeping, Scully,"
he tells her.  "But I don't want you to get bored with
me, either."

Scully's eyes have gone all soft again.  "Not possible,
Mulder," she says.

"C'mere, Scully," Mulder says in his most sultry voice,
and pats the sofa next to him.  He half expects her to
refuse; he knows this conversation isn't over yet.  But
she surprises him again by doing as he asks, and curling
up against his side.  He turns her head so he can kiss
her again and they sit in contentment, exchanging soft,
undemanding kisses.

After a bit, she sits up again and it's obvious to Mulder
that she still has at least one more item on her agenda.

"I was thinking that maybe we could do some traveling,"
she suggests.  "I have a lot of vacation time saved up.
We could tour the world, if you like."

"But you'd want to come back here, after?"  he asks.

She doesn't answer right away.  "I've been happy here,
Mulder.  I felt welcomed from the start, and now that
you've come back, I feel at home.  But you may have
different feelings about this place.  And if you can't
be happy here, I can't be, either."  She takes his hand
in hers.  "I think I could be happy wherever you are,
Mulder," she says, and kisses him.

"'Wither thou goest,' Scully?"  Mulder grins.  "Aren't you
even going to argue with me a little?"

She smiles.  "Well, I hope you'll give it some thought,
Mulder.  We don't have to decide anything right away.
You should know, the house on the Vineyard is not only
still standing, it's still yours."

"I suppose you had to let the lease go on my apartment,
though," he jokes.

She makes a face at him.  "You won't believe how long I
actually *did* hang onto it, Mulder.  But I'm sorry to
say, your fish were early casualties."

x-x-x

The very next day, Mulder begins to plan an itinerary.
He has a vague idea in the back of his mind that they
might stay at the Vineyard house for a while, and he
makes that the last stop.  Scully arranges for a leave
of absence and one morning in late summer, they pack up
the little car and head out.

They take their time, zigzagging across the country,
stopping at spots they remember.  Some have changed
beyond recognition.  The former desert area known as
Dreamland is a fully developed retirement community
now.  If possible, Las Vegas is even more artificial
than ever, with big domed areas over half the
buildings in the city.

"Climate and pollution control," Scully explains,
and Mulder nods.  He's read something of that.  Before
privately-owned internal combustion engines were
banned, some cities in high-impact areas created
self-contained artificial atmospheres and banned all
but electric transport within their confines.  Parts
of Los Angeles were now under domes, as were some
other cities in other high-congestion areas.  Since
then, global warming had been slowed somewhat, and
banning of all but electric cars for most of the
populace rendered the dome cities unnecessary and
impractical before the trend went too far.

Mulder's glad of this.  Las Vegas and Los Angeles have
always been little different anyway; however, he's not
sure he could deal with New York or Chicago or Boston
under domes.

Because of the range of their car, their progress each
day takes them only a couple of hundred miles.  Scully
had suggested taking the bullet train, but Mulder
reminded her that the point wasn't so much arriving
as getting there.

He starts out sharing the driving duties with Scully
but is so easily distracted by what he sees out the
windows that Scully ends up doing the bulk of the
driving.  He pays her back by giving her massages
every night when they stop.

Just for old times' sake, he books them into a couple
of less than four star establishments, but with the
help of an on-line travel consultant, also manages to
find some  nice places, too.  It tickles him that
there is still a Sam Houston Motor Lodge in Texas,
though the town of Cheney has disappeared off the map.
The town and the surrounding countryside have been
absorbed by the sprawl of Dallas and its suburbs.

Scully just rolls her eyes at some of Mulder's choices,
but she doesn't seem displeased.  She seems very pleased
by some of the nicer places, and isn't shy about sharing
her pleasure with Mulder.

It occurs to Mulder about halfway through their trip that
this is like a honeymoon.  They had never traveled
together before except when on a case.  They'd never
really gotten to the point of even talking about such
a possibility.  They'd been lovers for only a short
time before Mulder's abduction, and consumed with work,
as usual.  This trip just for the sake of traveling
seems very strange at first.  Some of the memories it
invokes are bittersweet at best, but the novelty of
being with Scully and having her all to himself without
the distraction of work more than makes up for it.

The skyline of New York City looks much like it did the
last time he saw it; several new buildings are there,
but he can still recognize the Chrysler Building and
the Empire State.  The Statue of Liberty, amazingly
enough, is still in the harbor, though the harbor
itself looks entirely different.  Watercraft unlike
anything he's seen dot the water.  Ships both huge
and tiny are everywhere.

They don't stay long in New York.  Neither of them have
very fond memories of that city.

Washington, DC, is one of the last stops they make before
their ultimate destination.  All of the usual monuments
are there, plus more.  The Esplanade and all the other
open areas display more statuary and symbolic sculptures
and fountains than ever before.

The most meaningful monuments to them are the personal
ones.  Scully directs Mulder to a small park he remembers
from years ago.  This is where Melissa Scully is buried,
and now so is Margaret Scully.  The surprise to him is
that Walter Skinner also has a stone nearby.

"He could have been buried at Arlington," Mulder says.

"He wanted to be among friends," Scully replies simply.
She wordlessly points out another stone, a small obelisk
with three names inscribed on it.

"They're here too?"  Mulder asks in amazement.

"Well, not really," Scully says, laying her hand against
the smoothly polished stone, tracing the name of Melvin
Frohike.  "Byers had a family plot, and Frohike donated
his body to science.  Langly wanted his ashes sent into
space, or failing that, scattered over Area 51.  Guess
what he got."

Mulder grins.  "Don't have to.  So you still hung out
with the Gunmen, huh?"

"They helped me out a lot, Mulder.  I don't think I
could have coped without them.  Or without Skinner."

They stand near the memorials to their friends and
family for a time, holding hands, honoring them in
silence.

It's not until later that it occurs to Mulder that
there is no stone for their son, and by then he's
unwilling to bring it up.  He can see that this trip
is already taking a toll on Scully.

The Hoover Building itself is now a museum.  For old
times' sake, they take the tour, stifling giggles at
some of the inaccuracies that the guide states.

Mulder asks, with an innocent expression, about what
might be in the basement, which is not on the tour.

"I think it was probably always just storage," the guide
says, puzzled that he even asked.  "Isn't that usually
what basements are for?"

Mulder grimaces and Scully rolls her eyes at him.  In
the main lobby, she takes him to see the wall listing
all the Directors and Deputy Directors through the prior
century.

He makes a small whistling sound as he comes across
Skinner's name.  "He got there, in spite of us," he
says.  Tears sting at his eyes.

"He got there because of us," Scully says.  "He was
instrumental in exposing a conspiracy at the FBI, with
Kersh at its center.  Notice Kersh's name isn't there?"

"Kersh wasn't a Deputy Director, was he?" Mulder asks.

"Well, not for long," Scully says.  "About a year, all
told.  But he was stripped of his title when it all came
down, not long after Will was born.  He died not long after
that."

"Died, or was killed?"  Mulder murmurs to her, mindful of
the other tourists nearby.

"Good question, Mulder," Scully whispers back.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" he whispers
accusingly.

"I have to save some stories for the long winter nights,"
she smirks.  "I'm still trying to keep you guessing."

"Well, you're doing a good job," he says.
 
x-x-x

They arrive on Martha's Vineyard one bright autumn day.
Scully has gotten increasingly pensive as they've come
closer to their destination.  Mulder is aware of this
but he has his own memories and feelings to deal with,
too.

The last time he was here was just after his mother had
died, and he was liquidating most of his parents' assets.
He'd considered selling it then, but instead left it to
Scully, along with pretty much all his other worldly
goods.  He's very glad now that he did so.

The house is much as he remembers it.  Scully has made
sure it was kept up over the years, and must have gotten
someone local to check over the place periodically.  The
shrubs look a little overgrown, but not badly.  The house
itself is snug and sturdy and as secretive as always.

When he goes inside, everything seems different.  The
furnishings are not at all what he remembers, with the
exception of a few family heirlooms.  His father had
been pretty indifferent to his surroundings and he
remembers the furnishings being pretty shabby.  He
sees the Scully touch subtly throughout the house.
More than that, it looks lived in, the way a house
does when a family has occupied it.  He never had that
feeling here before.

It's like everything has an overlay, blurring the lines
of what he sees and what he knows, making everything
familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

Scully comes up behind him as he surveys the living
room.  "I lived here, off and on, for quite a while,
when Will was growing up.  It was one of his favorite
places.  And, oddly enough, I felt safe here."

He refrains from reminding her that his father was
murdered here.

"You know how the Vineyard is.  People mind their own
business.  No one questioned members of the Mulder
family coming and going, or the house staying shut
up for long intervals."

"Did you go by the name of Mulder when you came
here?"  He's sort of pleased by that.

"Yes, I did, as did William.  The last time we came
here, he was William Mulder and I was his daughter,
Katherine."

"Is this another tale for a winter's night?" he
teases.

"Not really, Mulder.  I went by a lot of aliases
over the years.  I always tried to pick something
you'd recognize.  I even went by Georgia Hale for
a while."

"Believe me, Scully, I would have found you no matter
what," he promises her.

They spend most of the day getting the house habitable
and getting some supplies from town.  The end of the
day finds them in front of the fire in the living room,
eating a light supper.  Mulder feels more relaxed than
he ever has in this house.  Having Scully here has made
all the difference.

He's always felt a bit like a visitor in this house in
the past, but now it feels more like a home.  When Scully
takes his hand and leads him to bed, he goes willingly,
but with a touch of unease.  It's very strange to think
of making love to Scully in this house.  It holds so few
happy memories for him.  With Scully here, however, the
same magic happens that happened in Bellefleur.
Everything melts away, and it's only the two of them.
Where they are is no longer important; all that matters
is that they are together.

He is wakeful in the night, listening to the distant sound
 of waves and the creaking of the house.  It could be
anytime, anywhere right now, with the darkness obscuring
everything.  He pulls Scully closer to him, and she stirs
and presses against him.  He imagines listening for a baby,
their baby, in the room down the hall.   He imagines Will's
childhood here.  Scully told him it was a happy one,
surrounded by people who loved him.  He hasn't wanted
to press Scully too much, and awaken old sorrows, but
he'd like to know more about his son.

The next day, they go for a walk, and end up on the
shore, looking out over the water.  The wind has a sharp
tang to it, a promise of the winter to come.  They find
a dune to sit against.  Mulder pulls Scully back against
him and rests his chin on her head.  He doesn't say
anything, just watches the waves and holds Scully.

"We used to come here with our picnics, Will and I,"
Scully says eventually.  "He learned to swim in the
ocean here."

Mulder nods his head, rubbing against Scully's hair, and
waits for her to continue.

"We celebrated your birthday here every year.  I used to
tell him stories about you, and what I knew about your
family.  It helped to have the house here, and what was
left of the pictures..."

He remembers.  His mother had burned all of hers before
she committed suicide.

"After Will was gone, I scattered his ashes here.  And
then I didn't come back for a long time."

"Oh, Scully..."  He brushes his lips over her ear, hugging
her close.  "I wish I could have been here with you.  I
wish..."  He's not sure what he wishes, except that what
happened to him had never happened, that he'd been
allowed to spend that lifetime with Scully, watching
their son grow.  He wishes he could make this up to
her, somehow.  As sharply as he feels the loss for
himself, it must be much worse for Scully, to have
raised him alone, only to lose him in the end.

To have loved Scully, and be loved by her, only to lose
each other in the end...he won't allow it, it will not
happen.  Not in this lifetime.

"I miss him, Mulder.  It was awful, knowing I'd outlive
him.  And when he was gone, I lost the last connection
with my real life..."

Mulder holds her close, hugging her to him but not
speaking.  He imagines what it must have been like,
to come here alone, scattering the ashes of a loved one.

"I'd never had a service for you, Mulder.  Your case
stayed in the X-Files.  It was closed as far as the
FBI was concerned, but not as far as I was concerned.
But when I came here with Will's ashes, I prayed for
your rest as well...I couldn't have gone on, otherwise.

"I knew then what you must have gone through with
Samantha, how it must have been all those years,
never really knowing what had happened to her."

"But you moved on."  He says it softly, not accusingly.
"You made a life for yourself."

"I had to, for Will," Scully replies just as softly.  "He
was all I had of you, and I couldn't neglect him.  And
after, I kept on because it was what Will --and you--
would have expected me to do."  She turns in his arms,
and wraps herself around him.  She lays her head against
 his heart.

Mulder kisses the top of her head and hugs her to him
just as tightly as she hugs him.  "I can't ever make up
for the time lost, Scully," he whispers into her hair.
"But I will do everything I can to make you happy now,
and give you whatever I can."

x-x-x

They've been there a few days when Scully mentions she
has to make a trip into Boston.  "You don't have to come,
Mulder.  I'll go and be back in one day."

"I don't want you to have to go alone, Scully," he says.

"You'd probably be bored, Mulder.  I have to go to the
medical center.  It's something I promised to do at the
hospital back in Bellefleur."

"Are you sure?"

"It's okay, Mulder, really.  Besides, there's something
I need for you to do here while I'm gone." She's licking
her lips nervously.

"What would that be, Scully?"  he prompts her.

"I'll tell you in the morning," she says.  And no matter
how he tries, he can't get anything else out of her about
it.

Next morning, before she catches the ferry, Scully gives
Mulder a large archival box.  "There are some things in
here I thought you might like to see,"  she says.  "I've
been saving them for you."  She gives him a swift kiss
and heads out the door before he can say anything.
"I'll see you at dinner, okay?"

Mulder looks at the box and makes himself some more
coffee before opening it.

As soon as he opens it, he understands why Scully wants
to make herself scarce while he looks at these things.
Here is what Scully left behind when she started her
new life:  the mementos that would have made moving
on unbearable.

There's an outfielder's mitt, with a baseball tucked
firmly into the pocket.  An envelope with report cards,
programs, a few cards and letters.  A very old, ragged,
faded Yankees cap.

At first he thinks somehow that these are things that
used to belong to him, but when he looks inside the
envelope, he realizes they must have been Will's.

There's also a stack of cases containing some type of
recordings.  They are numbered, so Mulder dutifully
takes the first disc out, pops it into the multimedia
player and waits for it to figure out the format and
begin the show.

At first, he thinks it's his own image on the screen.
But how would Scully get hold of something like that?
This is a man in his twenties.  The image grins, and
it's even more like seeing himself.  Then the voice.

"Hi, Dad," said Mulder's son.  "It sounds weird to say
that, and maybe it sounds weird for you to hear it.
This was Mom's idea, and I think it's a good one, but
it's still weird."  He cleared his throat.  "Okay.
This is the first in a series of recordings I'm making
for you, so you can see what I was like.  Mom has this
idea that someday you're gonna show up, and even if I'm
not here, or she's not here, you'll know a little something
about me.  Mom has a bunch of recordings from when I was a
kid, and I'm sure she's gonna show them to you, too.  But
I wanted to talk to you myself.  Mom won't know what
these recordings say; they're just for you.  You can
let her watch them after you've seen them if you want."

It's too much.  He shuts off the machine and closes his
eyes.

After a few minutes, he opens his eyes again, and pushes
the button.

x-x-x

When Scully comes home, he's still sitting facing the
screen, all of the boxes in a neat stack on the table
in front of him.  He doesn't turn to look at her, but
he feels her approach, and he reaches his hand out to her.

She comes and sits beside him, taking his hand in both
of hers.  "Are you okay?"  she asks softly.

After a minute, he nods.  He still doesn't trust himself
to speak.

"I know I can't give you the life you didn't get to
live," she says,  "but I can at least share some of
it with you."

He clears his throat and says in a voice he can barely
recognize as his own, "We'll make our own life together,
Scully.  You and me."

She nods, biting her lower lip, the tears shimmering in
her eyes matching his own.  He puts his arm around her
and holds her close.  "Thank you," he whispers into her
hair.  "Thank you for Will, and for believing in me."

Scully nods again, and smiles, laying her head on his
shoulder.

Mulder is exhausted after such an emotional day, and
he can see that Scully is already half-asleep on his
shoulder.

"You wore yourself out," he says in a murmur.  "you
should have stayed home today."

"I would have, Mulder, but what I had to do was
important, and you needed to have some time alone
with Will, too," she says.

"Well, if you have to go again, I'm going to go with
you," he tells her.  "At least I can make you stop for
lunch, and I'm sure I can find something to do if
you're going to be busy."

"Actually, I'd really like it if you could come with
me next time," Scully says.  She's suddenly very alert,
and  she shifts around to kneel on the sofa, facing
Mulder.  "I may have a job in mind for you, if you're
interested."

"Really?  Is this something you were looking into today,
Scully?"  There's definitely something afoot.  There are
still tears in her eyes, but what's behind them is pure
joy.

She nods.  "It won't be for some months yet, but I can
guarantee you won't be bored."  She can barely contain
her smile now, and she takes Mulder's hand and places
it against her stomach.

All he can do in response is smile.

x-x-x

Epilogue

He's late, as usual, and he really doesn't want to miss
this.

It's the first lecture in the genetics module, and it
features Professor Emeritus Dana K. Scully-Mulder.  Even
after all this time, and even though it's a recorded
lecture, she still packs the house.

He's very proud of this, and not just because of his
relationship to her.  He hopes that one day, he will
be as revered as she is.  He's only a first-year
medical student, but he's following in her footsteps.

Even though he's late, he always stops for a moment
to read the plaque outside the Scully-Mulder Life
Sciences Building.  He was there at the dedication,
so he's been told, but he was too young to remember.
He knows the words inscribed there by heart, but he
never gets tired of reading them, just as he never
gets tired of his grandmother's stories about her
parents.  They had an amazing life, as the whole
Mulder-Scully clan knows.  It's not something they
talk about much with outsiders, but there are no
secrets among the family.  The truth has always been
very important to them all.

He traces the words on the metal plaque set in the wall:

     This Building is dedicated in loving memory of:

                  Dana Katherine Scully
                   Fox William Mulder
                          and
                 William Samuel Scully
        in loving memory by daughter and sister,
                Samantha M Scully-Mulder

               "The Truth Will Save You"

William Scully-Mulder, great-grandson of the couple for
whom the building is named, smiles in a way his great-
grandparents would have recognized, and enters the
building whistling.

end.

Thanks for reading! feedback welcomed at msnsc21@aol.com
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