By  Rory "Calhoun" Cottrell
trel@troi.cc.rochester.edu
 

Date: Fri, 1 Mar 96
Disclaimer:
Disclaimer:  This story thread was lovingly borrowed from Juliettt,
and since she let me run with it, she deserves a lot of credit.  This is
not technically part of Juliettt's Marriage series, an excellent series if
you ask me, I just borrowed her house, her departments, and the kid
she gave our heroes.  This is set sometime in early February, 2002,
give or take a year.  Reference is made to both the Marriage series
stories and Stakeout series stories (thanks to Sheryl Martin, who
initially started that wonderful thread), but this definitely stands on its
own.   Bruce Cunningham belongs to Juliettt, Jackie St. George and
Martin Nantus belong (both literally and figuratively) to Sheryl Martin.
Mulder, Scully, Scully family and whatnot belong to FOX and 10-13
Productions.  All others are mine, all mine, bwuaaaaaa.
 
Now before I get flamed for writing a romance, this is just a one-time
foray into insanity.  The idea got stuck in my head after reading some
of Juliettt's stuff, and things just sort of tumbled from there.  I am still
a firm believer in UST, and that the relationship on the show should
stay platonic.  And now that that is said, this story does focus mostly
on Scully (I'm working on Mulder stories too; I'm an equal opportunity
steam roller -- why should one character get to go through the
emotional ringer in all of my stories?)  Sorry, I have more in common
with Scully; it's easier to write for her.  (Who would have guessed my
Irish Catholic upbringing, my undergrad degree in (geo)physics, and
extremely skeptical nature would come in handy?)
 
Written off and on over the course of the last semester when I didn't
feel like doing my Material Properties of Deformed Solids (let's stick
play-dough in a vice and see what happens?)  homework.  And it never
did get handed in.  We must have our priorities, after all.
 
All characters are borrowed and used without malicious intent.  Though
FOX  Broadcasting owns Mulder and Scully, this alternate universe
belongs to the fans, most specifically Juliettt in this instance.  So there.
 
Songs and their respective artists (Kermit's "Rainbow Connection",
Indigo Girls' "Mystery", and anyone else I've forgotten) appear without
permission and with the utmost respect.
 
I recommend the following stories, if you have no idea what's going
on: Juliettt's "Life Changes", "Success", and "Lullaby for a New
Generation".
 
And just a reminder, MAN DID NOT WALK WITH DINOSAURS!!!
Though I like the idea that Atlantis may have been covered by ice,
(though the mechanism is debateable - ice is not heavy enough to rotate
the earth as such, there is geologic evidence that the earth has turned
on its side in the past)  I will be happy to discuss this and anything
else.

Like this?  Want more?  Try reading the following stories, (and I know
this is an egotistical plea of self gratification, but hey, I have no life
and
I like to live vicariously through my characters.  God knows the AGU
abstracts won't do it):

Shades of Gray
Watershed
Harbor
Tempest Tossed -- in the works
and if you're really adventurous, check out my fanzine appearances:
Hummer - The Manifest 4
 

~~~

"Opposite Poles"  Part 1

Quantico, Virginia
Monday, 5:47 PM
 
 
 Dana Scully Mulder sat down with every ounce of relief her
tired bones could muster, leaning back into the old wooden desk chair
that had been around longer than she could remember.  The arms were
well worn to a lighter shade of brown, sun bleached from years of
sitting in her father's den.  She had sort of appropriated it when her
mother was cleaning house a few years back.  It fit the love-it-or-lump-
it decor of her lab: the gunmetal gray desk that was bigger than a
battleship, the cement floor and the oh so attractive water drains
underneath the autopsy table.
 
 She pulled off the gloves and the glasses, closed her eyes to
rub away the growing headache beating inside her skull.  It had not
been a good day.  Hell, it had not been a good week, period.  Two
bodies in the freezer in as many weeks, a case the VCS had been hard
pressed to crack.  She had been called in to assist, on top of her
already heavy caseload, in the hopes that she would find something the
others had not.
 
 In medical school, Dana Scully earned a reputation of a cast
iron stomach.  But this week, it was as if that hull had corroded
through, leaving huge pits in her armor.  She *did not* like doing
autopsies of children.
 
 <They're not exactly children, Dana,> her inner voice
reminded her.  It was the only thing that kept her lunch down.
 
 "Agent Scully?"
 
 Opening her eyes, she leaned forward in the chair, placing
her forearms on the desktop.  She smiled tiredly at the man in the
doorway, taking a moment to glance at the clock on the wall behind
him.  In fact, she had expected him to show up earlier than this.
 
 "Agent Jenkins, to what do I owe this pleasant visit?" she
said, jovial.  Not that she blamed him, even if he was the one to ask for
assistance with the case.  It wasn't his fault the victims were all young
girls.  It wasn't his fault that she was the only pathologist his ASAC
trusted with the evidence.
 
 Jenkins nodded towards the empty autopsy table.  "Done
already?  I thought Cunningham was out of town?"
 
 Scully shrugged.  "He is.  But there's nothing much to say.
Cause of death was a bullet to the stomach.  She bled to death."
 
 "How long was she in the water?"
 
 "Two, three months.  The body was nearly frozen when she
got here.  Lack of decomposition makes it difficult to say exactly."
 
 "Bullet recovered?"
 
 Nodding, Scully stood and handed her report to him.  "And
sent to ballistics.  I doubt you will find a match, if the pattern holds
true.  Even I could see that the twisting was different on this one
compared to the reports you've shown me."
 
 Jenkins leaned against the door jamb, thumbing through her
report.  "Anything to connect it to the Singer ring?"
 
 The Singer ring.  It sounded so innocuous, so safe.  The first
body found had been that of Hanna Singer.  Barely out of highschool
and living on the streets, she was found dead outside an abandoned
warehouse.  She had bled to death.  There was evidence that she had
just delivered a baby, but there was no baby to be found.  Other bodies
had been found over the past six months, all teenagers, all showed
signs of recently giving birth, either strangled, shot or bled to death.
 
 "Other than the fact she's a teenage runaway dead within
hours of giving birth.   I suppose whoever did this to her didn't feel she
was bleeding to death fast enough and decided to quicken the pace."
 
 Jenkins face paled slightly, eyes cringing at the thought.  She
had had the same reaction.
 
 "There has to be something."
 
 If she didn't know better, she would think Jenkins was
desperate.  She would be too if one of the largest cases to hit the
Violent Crimes Section was unceremoniously dropped in her lap with
no rhyme or reason.
 
 "Maybe--"
 
 Jenkins jumped at the bait.  She hadn't meant to string him
along, but after working with Fox Mulder for so many years, it was the
only way to keep one step ahead of him whenever the occasion arose.
Rising from her seat, she walked over to a filing cabinet, opened the
top drawer to pull out a manila envelop.  He followed like an eager
puppy.
 
 "Oh, please, say you have something I can use, please oh
please."
 
 She opened the flap on the envelop, pulled out a plastic
evidence bag.  "This was found caught in the victim's hair."  She held
the bag up to the light.
 
 Inside was a small, simple gold chain.  No ornamentation, no
medallions.  A simple, now broken, clasp.  It was about fourteen
inches long, oxidized and tarnished with exposure to the elements.
 
 "Laura Kelly, the body found last week-- she was strangled
with a thin leather strap.  I found pieces of a chain similar to this
inside the deeper lacerations left behind by the strap.  The links are
about the same size."
 
 It was a long shot.  There was no evidence of any jewelry,
necklaces or otherwise, in the other cases.  She had already checked
the autopsy and police property reports.  It could have been a
coincidence.  But in her line of work, coincidence was rarely the norm.
 
 "Dana, you are a godsend."
 
 She could feel a blush rise in her cheeks, the curse of her Irish
heritage and an inborn modesty that rested on the shy side of
embarrassment.  Mulder found no end to his amusement in that little
character trait.
 
 "Good news, I take it?"
 
 Scully's head whipped at the sound of the new voice.  She
wasn't used to so many visitors down in her lair that late in the
afternoon.
 
 Assistant Special Agent Thomas Chatterton leaned against
the door jamb this time.  He was older, graying, a field agent of
superior talent in his day with the VCS, now regional head of the DC
office.  He was one of the few agents that still wore a three piece suit.
There was a fatherly look about him; unkempt curly locks of hair
tumbled off the top of his head in a way that reminded everyone of the
lost uncle only seen at Christmas, the one that had the grand gifts for
everyone and even grander stories to tell.
 
 "Andy, run that report upstairs, will you?"
 
 Jenkins puzzled look probably mimicked the one Scully was
sure she was wearing at the time.  He took the report in hand and
headed out the door.  Chatterton shut the door to an inch of closing.
 
 Scully went back to her desk, offered him a cup of the stale
coffee sitting in the coffee maker on the table behind her desk.
Chatterton declined, taking a seat instead.
 
 "Good work, finding that chain.  Should help a lot with this
case."
 
 She raised an eyebrow in response, taking  a sip of stale
coffee, cringing at the bitter taste.  She reached for the creamer next to
the pot.  "It may not be that much of a lead.  No other necklaces were
found at the other crime scenes, or on the bodies."
 
 "But the local coroners may not have been as thorough as you
are, Dana.  That's why I insisted Andy ask you to assist us.  I knew you
would find the missing link, pardon the pun."
 
 "You're forgiven.  Now, cut to the chase.  Why the visit?"
 
 "How's the family, Dana?  Well?  How old is that boy of
yours? Two?"
 
 "Fifteen months," she replied, a little suspicious of his
intentions.  He was trying to butter her up for the big blow, and he
knew she knew it.
 
 "Walking and talking?"
 
 "And tearing up the daycare looking for stuffed ET's."
 
 Chatterton chuckled, sharing in the private joke.  The VCS
had sent William a stuffed ET doll just after he was born with the
inscription, "Here's something Mini-Mulder can practice with".
Chatterton delivered it himself, with a note of apology for the rather
poor taste of his agents.  He genuinely admired Mulder's work in the
VCS, was sad to see him go when the X-files emerged as Mulder's,
and eventually her, life's work.
 
 "I need to ask you a favor, Dana--"
 
 "Why do I get the feeling that I'm not going to like this?"
 
 "It should only be for a few days."
 
 Scully grimaced.  It was the classic set up line for an out of
town assignment.  She was tempted to shake her head outright before
hearing him out.
 
 "Dana," Chatterton said, leaning in, looking very much like
her father once did whenever he tried convince her that moving again
to a new base wouldn't be that bad.  "Dana, I really need your help on
this case.  And I realize that you're not exactly intrigued with active
field status with us right now.  But you I trust with this case, not some
of these yahoos I've got under me.  They're good men, but they all have
more than enough to do with this case here in DC"
 
 "Why me?" she asked.  He hit the nail right on the head with
the assumption she didn't quite like the idea of leaving for even just a
few days.  Not since William was born.
 
 She didn't know exactly when her attitude or priorities
changed.  Field work had been her life after she first joined the FBI.
The time when the X-files had been disbanded, and she was stuck
behind an autopsy table teaching forensic science to up and coming
agents who didn't care one way or another, was about the worst time in
her life.  <No, take that back.  When you thought Mulder was dead,
that was the worst time in your life.>
 
 William Fox Mulder changed everything, though.  Neither
she nor Mulder wanted to leave home or each other for prolonged
periods of time.  Luckily, her mother lived less than an hour away and
was a more than willing baby-sitter for her newest grandchild.
 
 Always in the back of her mind there was that nagging
feeling that THEY were still out there.  THEY had tried before to
separate them, numerous times in fact.  THEY had her convinced that
Mulder was dead, and she knew what lengths THEY would go to in
order to make their schemes seem real.  Granted, it had been a long
time since they were involved with government cover-ups.  Skinner
had seen to that, warning them whenever possible.  They had been
lulled into a false sense of security once; she never wanted that to
happen again.
 
 <You're over-reacting.  It's a simple assignment.>
 
 "I have a feeling that this ring is picking up and moving
north," Chatterton was saying.  "Another girl was found in Baltimore
two weeks ago.  And we have reason to believe that it may have spread
as far north as Philadelphia."
 
 "There's another body?"  It was more of a statement than a
question.  Chatterton's expression said it all.
 
 Chatterton nodded mournfully, retrieving a folded envelope
from an inner pocket.  "Came over the wire from the Philadelphia
office.  Fresh body, found in an alley near what is locally known as
Hooker's Row.  The police won't release the body, they're fighting us
tooth and nail for jurisdiction.  The only reason I got wind of the case
is because I have a contact in the coroner's office.  They've agreed to
let us do the autopsy, but they won't send us the body.  I want you to go
up there and take a look.  If it's the same MO, then it's federal
jurisdiction, and we can go to town with this."
 
 Scully closed her eyes, hoping that would get her point across
that she really did not want the assignment.  But Chatterton was still
staring at her when she opened her eyes again.  She couldn't say no,
despite how much her brain and stomach said to do so.
 
 As if reading her mind, Chatterton added, "I know how much
you hate these types of cases.  I don't like them either.  My youngest is
that age.  This is a tremendous break for us.  We haven't been able to
recover a body so soon after death.  All I want you to do is run the
autopsy, talk to the family, get some background information, and
report your findings to me.  Two days, three days tops.  I promise."
 
 She wanted to say no.  She <really> wanted to say no.
 
 "I'll leave tomorrow morning."
 
 "Thank you, Dana.  I really appreciate this."
 
 <You should have said no.>
 
 "Yeah, well, my standards in motel living have gone up.  Be
prepared to validate decent lodging in Philly, and phone calls home."
 
 Chuckling, Chatterton lifted himself out of his chair, reaching
into another pocket to extract another envelope.  "Here's the name of
the man in charge of the investigation, Andrew Boothby.  He's an old
friend, he'll treat you right, or I'll have his head.  Go home, give that
kid of yours a hug for me."
 
 "William or Mulder?"
 
 "Both."
 
    * * * * *
 
 
 Fox Mulder stood at the kitchen island, dishtowel across his
shoulder, carving knife making quick work of the left-over roast beef.
The gravy was simmering on the stove, the potatoes warming in the
oven,  William's peas sitting in the microwave, and the home made
bread that Margaret had brought over the day before ready by the
toaster oven.  It was something he learned to prepare while at Oxford;
quick, simple, and would be ready before Scully got home.
 
 He had planned it as a surprise, after she had been called to
work late at Quantico that day.  Usually he would order out and have
something ready and waiting before she got home, but today he
thought a home-cooked meal would be better appreciated.
 
 Still, he and their "little man" brought Mommy chicken soup
to her desk for lunch today.  William even offered to feed her, sitting
in the center of her desk, holding out the spoon upside down, with the
lop-sided grin Scully loved so much.  Their son really knew how to
turn on the charm at the drop of a hat.
 
 He felt something brush up against his pant leg.  It pushed
incessantly at his knees.  Mulder looked down to see his toddler son
trying to climb his leg, with a plastic ring in one hand and a sippie cup
in the other.
 
 "Well, what do we have here?"  Mulder wiped off his hands
on the dishtowel, placed the knife across the far end of the carving
board.  He knelt down to see what treasures his son had for him today.
William presented the sippie cup first.  Mulder took it, figuring it was
left over from the morning's breakfast dishes, though how it got in the
living room was beyond him.  Then William shifted the plastic ring to
his right hand, then handed it to Mulder.  Turning, William waddled
back towards the living room.
 
 "Hey, where are you going?" Mulder asked, taking a second
to check the gravy on the stove before following his son down the
hallway.  For a fifteen month old, he was pretty quick on his feet.
 
 Mulder rounded the corner in time to see William duck into
the box-turned-playhouse.  For some reason, the simple things amused
their son more than the expensive toys his grandparents, aunts and
uncles showered on him.  Scully had him downstairs in the basement
one afternoon as she  folded laundry when he found one of the large
boxes from their new computer.  He spent hours opening and closing
the flaps, putting his toys in it, then taking them out again.
 
 "Now, if only we could get you to put your toys away with
that much enthusiasm," Scully had said after he cut out a little door
and a window for William to use as easy access.
 
 William popped his head through the top of the box, turned
around until he found his father's eye.  He held a red plastic ring above
the flap, then dropped it.  The red ring slid down the flap and hit the
hardwood floor with a resounding plop.  William leaned on tip toes to
see where his ring had gone, then ducked back into the box to retrieve
another.  Mulder knelt down next to the box, sending the red ring in
through the little window.  It was part of a little game they always
played;
William got his way.
 
 From the front hallway, Mulder heard the distinctive click of
the front door opening and closing, his wife shedding her coat and
briefcase.  William popped his head up from the innards of his little
fortress, all smiles at the familiar sound of his mother coming home.
 
 Scully slowly walked into their living room, a tired smile on
her face.  Mulder gave her a quick peck on the cheek as she sat on the
foot stool.  Her boy held up his arms to be lifted from his cardboard
play pen.
 
 "Whoa, you are getting to be a big boy now, aren't you," she
said, standing him on her knees.
 
 "Bye!" William exclaimed, planting a wet, sloppy kiss on her
cheek.
 
 "We really need to expose him to a larger vocabulary,"
Mulder said, hoisting their son up over Scully's head as he carried him
towards the kitchen.  "We're fixing dinner.  Isn't that right, kiddo.
We're fixing dinner for Mommy."
 
 "Bye!" William cried again.
 
 "You're cooking?" Scully called from the living room.  "I
thought you were going to order out tonight."
 
 Mulder turned just as he heard his wife walk into the kitchen,
just so he could see her expression.  Not only would everything be
ready at the same time, but he also managed to keep the kitchen clean
in the process.  No strange odors coming from the stove, or the
garbage disposal where wasted efforts would have found their way.
Honest to goodness food, nutritious, all four food groups.  She stood,
open mouthed and awe struck.  He loved surprising her.  Setting
William on the floor, he picked up the knife once more, replacing the
dishtowel across his shoulder.
 
 "I'm impressed.  With left-overs no less."  William toddled
into her legs, begging to be picked up once again.  Scully leaned over,
and with an exaggerated groan lifted her son into her arms.
 
 "I wasn't a completely helpless bachelor, you know," he
quipped, resuming his carving of the roast beef.  He watched as his
wife checked each pot and pan on the stove top, the oven door and the
microwave.  "Shaved roast beef with gravy on your mother's home
baked bread, baked potato for us and peas for the kid."  He popped two
pieces of bread into the toaster oven.
 
 "Bye!" William squealed.
 
 "No bye.  No car.  We're staying home tonight," Scully told
her son, trying to maintain a firm hold on his squirming body.  She
finally resorted to putting him back on the ground, letting him roam to
whatever had caught his attention.  "I'm going to go change," she
announced, tousling her son's hair as she passed.
 
 William started to follow, then something near the floor
cabinets caught his eye.
 
 Mulder watched, amused at the absolute lack of attention
span their son held.  Margaret once said they should have named the
child Curious George.  Not surprising, considering the parentage.
William waddled over to one of several low slung drawers near the
pantry door.  Soon after William learned to walk, they had spent an
entire weekend baby-proofing everything in sight, since once he
started walking, he started exploring.  Everything.  Every drawer.
Every cabinet.  Every corner and every crack.  It wasn't soon after that
first weekend when they found towels and Tupperware strung out on
the floor.
 
 This time he found a drawer that had not been completely
closed.  A slight patch of pink was peaking out of the side.  William
pulled on the material to open the drawer, and out came an oven glove
drawn like a pig.
 
 Oven glove.  Dinner time.  William brought his prize to
Mulder's feet.
 
 "Thank you," Mulder said, taking the glove.  "Can you bring
Daddy the frog?  Bring Daddy the frog."
 
 Sure enough, William went back to the drawer and picked out
the green colored oven mitt drawn to look like a frog.  Granted, it was
the only other oven glove in the drawer, the rest potholders and table
linens that didn't have the cool, satiny feel like the oven gloves did.
He put his arm in the glove and walked over to the stove, tapping the
oven door with his gloved arm.
 
 "Not yet, kiddo," Mulder said, quickly sweeping up his son
before his daredevil child went a little too far with his exploring.  He
kissed William's head and placed him on the floor far away from the
stove.  "Too many babas ruin the soup."  He grabbed the oven glove,
swatted his son's backside lightly with the frog's nose.
 
 "Baba!" William crowed happily.  "Baba baba baba."
 
 Dingers went off simultaneously; the buzzer for the potatoes,
the timer for the bread.  Carving the rest of the roast beef in record
time, Mulder grabbed three plates (one spill proof) and silverware just
as Scully walked back into the kitchen.  The attire only confirmed
what he suspected, that she wasn't feeling well at all; the warm, woolly
sweats,  the thick socks, and the old gray flannel.
 
 She offered to take the plates to set the table.  As if on cue,
William went for his high chair, ready to help pull it to his customary
position between Mommy and Daddy's chair.  She laughed as she put
the plates down on the table, guiding the high chair as her son pushed
it along the floor.  Arms in position, William waited to be lifted into
his chair.
 
 "We really are in a rut if he knows what's coming next,"
Mulder commented, bringing over the plate of roast beef and dish of
peas for William.  Next came the gravy on a hot plate and potatoes.
"You want anything with the spuds?" he asked, walking to the
refrigerator for the butter dish and sour cream.
 
 Scully shook her head, securing William's spill proof plate to
his tray.  Mulder knew that somehow, William would find a way to
wriggle it off the tray before the end of the meal.  Child proof had a
whole other meaning where William Fox Mulder was concerned.  Not
that the food would stay in the dish anyway; before it made it to his
mouth, the food made a pit stop on the tray.  What didn't end up in his
mouth could be found on the floor and chair.
 
 "Are we going to use our spoon today?"  Scully secured the
rather useless bib around her son's neck, then Mulder handed her the
small spoon.  William reached for it, ready to eat, even with nothing in
his bowl.
 
 Mulder sat down in his chair, stretched behind him with a
boarding house reach for the bread in the toaster oven.  Cutting off the
end of one piece, he handed it to Scully to cut up for their son.  He
then set to work on chopping up the roast beef into William-size
pieces.
 
 Foregoing the middle man, Scully spooned some peas on the
tray in easy reach of William's hands.  He pushed them around with
his spoon, intent on playing rather than eating.  Mulder reached
around to put the meat in one of the food trays.  For some ungodly
reason, William liked his food plain.  Mix anything together, and he
refused to eat it.  Picky eating certainly did not run on HIS side of the
family.
 
 Scully broke up the bread slice into manageable pieces, put it
on the plate along side the meat.  William continued to plow his peas
from one end of this high chair tray to the other.  By the time she
managed to get him to eat the peas rather than chase them, Mulder
had already prepared her plate, and was half-way through his first
helping.
 
 "How did this afternoon go?" he asked, getting up for the
forgotten ice tea pitcher on the counter.  He grabbed two glasses from
the cupboard and a couple of ice cubes from the freezer.  After their
family lunch, she had gone over to Quantico to consult on a Violent
Crimes case.  Considering the rather transient nature of the crimes
that their respective departments investigated, frequently they were
called for consults.  Nothing unusual about that.  He placed her glass
next to her right hand.
 
 She smiled her thanks.  Since she didn't readily answer his
inquiry about the case, he knew she was a little reluctant to talk about
it. Something about the case bothered her, years of experience taught
him that.  "Long day, huh?"
 
 Nodding, Scully picked up her glass and took a long swallow
before speaking, keeping her voice low.  They had vowed early on that
they wouldn't discuss cases around their children.  If it was enough to
give them nightmares from time to time, it certainly would do the
same for the kids.
 
 "Sixteen year old dredged from the river.  VCS thinks she
may be attached to the Singer ring."
 
 The few words she spoke were enough to clue him in to what
was bothering her.  The Singer ring was the talk of the Bureau in
recent months; black market baby brokerage where the natural
mothers, usually runaways with no where else to turn, were dead
within hours, sometimes days, of giving birth.  Violent death.  Of the
five bodies recovered in the DC area alone, two were strangled, three
with bullet wounds to the stomach.  Out of sick curiosity, he wondered
in what condition this girl was found.
 
 "Not pretty?"
 
 Scully shook her head, easily intercepting a handful of peas
on their descent from William's hand to the floor.  Even when not in
her sorts, she still was too quick for their son's antics.  She deposited
the mashed peas on the side of her own plate.
 
 "Chatterton asked me to go to Philadelphia tomorrow.  The
field office picked up a body the other day.  Local police refuses to
have it shipped down here for analysis.  I don't know how long I'll be
gone."
 
 Now Mulder definitely knew why she was down in the
dumps.  She hated traveling, ever since the baby was born, especially
when neither he or the baby could go with her.  He didn't want her to
go, but it was part of the job.  And it was more than apparent that she
didn't want to discuss it.
 
 Scully picked up the abandoned spoon and tried to get
William to eat a little bit of the roast beef.
 
 William ducked away from the spoon, scrounging his face as
he did so.
 
 "Hey, you," Mulder admonished lightly.  "You helped me
pick out what we were having for dinner and now you're not going to
eat it?  I tell you, kids today."
 
 "Maybe he's teething again," Scully suggested, placing the
back of her hand against his temple.  "He's kind of warm."
 
 "We got anything soft that he might eat?" Mulder asked,
headed for the fridge.
 
 Scully cleared the plate from his tray; no need to leave him
ammunition for the floor and his lap.  "There should be some pears
left over from yesterday.  Check the yellow dish."
 
 Mulder searched the top shelf of the fridge for the pears.
Instead, he found the weekend's lunch special wrapped in cellophane.
"How about this spinach quiche your Mom left?"
 
 "Not unless you want diaper duty for the next few days."
 
 "I have diaper duty for the next few days.  Pears it is."
 
 William played with the pear pieces as he had with the peas,
but at least he ate them instead of dropping them on the floor.
 
 He noticed that Scully's plate was just about as full as their
son's had been.  She had been pushing the food around the plate, in
much the same way as their son had done.  "You're not hungry
either?"  He put the back of his hand to her forehead.
 
 "Mulder, what are you doing?" she said, ducking away from
his hand playfully.
 
 "I want to see if you're teething as well.  Two of you, cutting
teeth at the same time.  This could get ugly.  Should I get you some
pears, too?"  He put his hand against her forehead again.  "Yup, you're
warm.  I suppose it is a little late to be cutting your wisdom teeth, but--
"
 
 Scully swatted him on the hind quarters as he passed by her
chair.
 
 "Why don't you go lie down for a while," Mulder suggested.
Scully responded with one of her patented, o not coddle me looks.
But he knew his wife, and before she could get a word in, he added,
"Look, I know you're tired.  You tossed and turned all last night, and
the night before that.  Go on, lie down.  I can get Messy Marvin here
bathed and ready for bed, then I'll come by and tuck you in."  He
waggled his eyebrows ala Groucho Marx for added effect.
 
 Exasperated, Scully slowly smiled and shook her head as she
stood.  "I'm going in the living room.  It's too early for bed."
 
 "Suit yourself.  Go watch a movie or something.  Leave the
kitchen work to us men folk."
 
 "Bye!" William added, smiling lop-sidedly.
 
 "Well," Scully said, managing to extract a few pieces of
waylay pears from her son's lap as she settled a kiss on his forehead, "I
guess I know when I'm not needed."
 
 Mulder watched as she shuffled off into the living room, as
did his son.  As she turned the corner, he leaned over closer to his son
and said just loud enough, "Now that Mommy's gone, we can eat with
our fingers! Yea!"
 
 "What was that, Mulder?" was the immediate, and not
unexpected reply.
 
 "Nothing, dear," he called back.
 

===========================================================================

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
From: trel@troi.cc.rochester.edu (Rory "Calhoun" Cottrell)
Subject: NEW: "Opposite Poles" 2/14
Date: Fri, 1 Mar 96 04:27:39 GMT
 

disclaimer in 0/14
 
 

 Once she sat down on the edge of the couch, legs tucked
under her, Scully knew she wasn't going to be moving any time soon.
The lights were dim in the living room, very conducive for sleep.  A
bulb must have burned out in the floor lamp, but she didn't want to
waste the energy getting it replaced.
 
 However, sleep had been elusive, as much as she hated to
admit it.  She couldn't put her finger on the reason, but it was getting a
bit ridiculous.  Even the attendants at the day care made note of the
darkening circles under her eyes.  Despite all the exhaustion, she
couldn't seem to fall asleep, and when she did it was for maybe three
hours at most.  Lack of sleep did wonders for her disposition, and her
attention span.  Twice in the last week Mulder caught her gazing off
into space and had sent paperclips sailing between their respective
offices until she snapped out of it.  It was amusing for a little while,
the tables turned for once.
 
 Too many things were running through her head.  Her case
load was picking up, she had been asked for more consults than usual,
and then there was the Singer Ring.  Her mind kept picking at the
details, over and over, but her sleeping problems had started before the
first body arrived on her table.
 
 She didn't want to admit it, but today's autopsy had gotten to
her.  Not only was it evident that the girl had been viciously and
maliciously murdered by whatever monster had sold her into virtual
slavery, but it had not been the girl's first child, either.  Babies having
babies.  What kind of childhood would that be for either, she thought
to herself as she maintained professional demeanor and performed the
autopsy.
 
 Eyes closing involuntarily, she leaned back, let her muscles
relax enough to get comfortable on the couch.  The scent of the
weekend's fire in the fireplace was still in the air.  It was a welcome
smell; remembrances of cold winter weekends spent in front of a fire
with her brothers and sister after a day of outdoor play were conjured
up with thoughts of hot cocoa and cookies before bed.
 
 Mulder had wanted so much to take William sledding out in
the snow.  The front yard had a slope that was just big enough for
sledding, he said.  The past weekend, she had finally caved in and let
Mulder take William outside to play.  She had to admit, they did look
awfully cute together; William in the snowsuit her Mom had given
them for Christmas, with the matching scarf and mittens, and Mulder
in his big parka and boots.  He took William up and down that little
hill nearly a dozen times, trying to fit his 6'1" body in a plastic sled
meant for someone half his size.  Her mother had become quite the
expert at making home movies and had the camcorder out for the
whole event.
 
 Just thinking about her boys out in the snow, laughing,
playing, made her relax even more.
 
 The sounds of her boys in the kitchen made the smile on her
face widen.
 
 "Uh oh."
 
 "Where?"
 
 "Uh oh."
 
 "How did you manage that?  Look at this mess.  You know,
you're only a baby.  How do you manage to make a mess this big every
night."
 
 "Uh oh."
 
 "Uh oh is right.  Don't let your mother see this.  She just
bought these overalls for you."
 
 Scully could just imagine the scene as it played out in her
ears.  There was probably pears stuck in the cuffs of his pants.  Food
always ended up in the strangest of places.
 
  "Hey, come back here.  Let me wash your face at least."
 
 Sneakered feet squeaked across the linoleum floor, followed
by a whooping cry; caught again in the midst of his escape.
Contagious giggles filled the kitchen, spilling all over the house.
Mulder teased William incessantly, always tickling him, blowing big
sloppy kisses on his tummy.  She smiled as she heard dishes clanking
together.  Mulder must have let William sit near the sink, because the
water was running, then not running, then running again.
 
 She dozed off for a spell, because the next thing she heard
was water running in the tub in their bathroom.  William was
babbling, Mulder was babbling back in a perfect imitation of his son's
voice.  She was tempted to check in on them.  Usually bathing William
was a team effort.  Somebody needed to keep him distracted as the
other snuck in with the shampoo.  Though keeping William distracted
long enough to get the job done was a feat in and of itself.
 
 The sound of her little boy laughing was music to her ears.
Hearing Mulder laugh had the same effect.  There had been so many
years when that sound came so infrequently.  Curiosity won out over
the warm fuzzy feeling of sitting in the familiar confines of the couch
cushions; she had to see what they were up to in the bathroom.
Besides, Mulder would need a bottle to settle William down to bed
anyway.  She padded into the kitchen to warm up a bottle, then quietly
snuck into their bedroom to see what  her boys were doing.
 
 The bathroom door was slightly ajar.  She stuck her head
inside and peeked around the door.
 
 Mulder was on his knees, shirt sleeves rolled up past his
elbows, tie hooked around the doorknob.  There was a ball of suds on
his nose.  William was standing in the calf deep water, waving a
pinwheel like a wand.  His hair, still full of shampoo, was standing up
in a spiked mohawk.  He looked so adorable, waving the pinwheel in
front of Mulder's face, waiting for him to blow on it so the colors
would go round and round.
 
 William spotted her first, stomping his legs up and down with
excitement at seeing her.  Mulder turned on his knee, smiled at her.
"Care to join us in the fun?"
 
 "Nice hair, Mulder.  Were you a beautician in a previous
life?"
 
 "Like the doo?  I think it's stylin'."
 
 "Speaking of stylin', it looks like he could use another trim
soon.  It's starting to curl up around his ears again," Scully said.
Mulder had been mildly upset when William was born without her red
hair.  William did, however, inherit the Scully family array of collicks.
Her brothers waylaid the problem with short haircuts, she and Melissa
always wore their hair long.  But it was sort of endearing, the way his
bangs went every which way like Mulder's, and whorled in weird
waves along the back and sides.
 
 Scully sat on the edge of the tub, grabbed the wash cloth from
the bottom of the tub.  The kid would be a prune before Mulder was
done playing with him.  She wiped the suds off of Mulder's nose, then
set to work on her son.  "Where's his watering can?"
 
 Mulder leaned back behind the toilet to grab the said object.
Her mother suggested using the toy in order to get the shampoo out of
the baby's hair.  It worked on all of her children, Margaret said with a
gleam in her eye.  William loved the hose in the kitchen sink, he liked
to help her water the plants on the kitchen window sill with it.
 
 "Can we trade?"  Scully reached for the pinwheel and in
exchange handed her son the watering can.  He dunked it in the tub
and started watering everything in sight, including his father's lap
when he wasn't looking.
 
 William immediately started giggling at his father's
expression, and it took all of Scully's resolve not to laugh out loud.
Mulder glowered, but said nothing.  He took the watering can from his
son.
 
 "Give me that, you little scamp."  Mulder filled the can once
more, then held his son's forehead still as he poured the contents over
William's hair.  Surprisingly, there was little struggle tonight.
William sat down in the water and let Mulder pour the stream of water
over his head again without a peep.
 
 "Must be tired," Mulder said, soaping up the washcloth to
wash his son's body.  "No fight at all tonight."
 
 "No, I know that look," Scully said, gathering the stackable
cups that were floating around in the water.  "He's storing it all for
later."
 
 "No problem.  I have a secret weapon," Mulder declared,
using the watering can to rinse off William.
 
 "Oh, really?"
 
 "Yup.  And I'm not telling anybody about it.  It will ruin the
surprise."
 
 Mulder was beaming.  Scully knew he was up to something,
not just by the look in his eye, but his demeanor as well.  First the
dinner, then the offer to handle the bath by himself, and putting
William to bed.  Without trying, he could sweet and endearing in the
blink of an eye, without any prompting or coaxing, without any sort of
hidden agenda.
 
 Scully handed him the baby towel, then reached for the plug.
 
 Mummifying their son in the towel, Mulder lifted him out of
the water, cradling him high on his shoulder.  As they walked to the
baby's room, he rubbed him dry, evoking more giggles and laughs the
faster he rubbed him down.  "Okay, for the secret weapon to work, you
have to be in the living room," he told her, attacking William's hair
with the towel.
 
 "Put him in the green sleepers tonight.  It's supposed to be
cold," she said, putting the eight ounce bottle she had prepared in his
shirt pocket.  "Have fun."
 
 "We will," Mulder replied in a sing-song voice.  "Won't we,
William?"
 
 Mulder was still babbling in baby talk when she passed by the
bedroom door again.  It looked like William decided that he did not
want a diaper on this evening, and was rolling away from his father's
hands each time he tried to fasten the ends.  Changing diapers had
become a verifiable art form in their house, from the rolling diaper
hold to changing him while he stood.  She did not envy Mulder
tonight.
 
 She sank back into the couch, pulling the afghan that was
folded over the back down around her legs.  The TV remote sat on the
coffee table, untouched for what seemed like weeks.  Since William
was born, TV just sort of disappeared from their schedule.  There was
the ever popular once-in-a-blue-moon movie night, and Mulder did on
occasion watch his monster movie marathons on the Sci-fi channel.
Otherwise, the TV was a glorified shelf.
 
 The latest Grisham novel was lying next the remote.  She
knew it wasn't lying there the day before.  Mulder must have picked it
up at the bookstore, and had undoubtedly read it cover to cover the
second he brought it home.  For the briefest of moments, she tried to
remember the last time she read a book that did not contain pictures or
silly rhymes, and decided that it had been too long.  She picked up the
book,  and wondered if this was the surprise to which he was referring.
 
 After only reading for ten minutes, her eyes became tired, and
she leaned back against the couch cushion.  She closed her eyes for the
briefest of moments...
 
 She didn't hear Mulder enter, or the scuffle of little feet across
the hardwood floors.  Opening her eyes, she spied her little boy
standing in front of her, holding a thin package wrapped in blue paper.
He placed it in her lap, after a little prompting from Daddy.
 
 She smiled as she read the card on top.  It read, HAPPY UN-
BIRTHDAY in Mulder's block lettering.  She tore off the paper
carefully, found herself staring at the back of a children's book.  The
corners were dog-eared, well worn with age and love.  At the bottom
of the cover was the Dr. Suess logo.  She flipped it over and read the
title.
 
 _The Sleep Book_
 
 Not just any Dr. Suess book.  HER Dr. Suess book.  The one
her father had given her as a child.  The one she had memorized
chapter and verse and recited proudly to her parents one night in the
firm pronouncement that she knew how to read like the big kids.  Her
father's inscription was still on the inside cover.  This one was her
book, not one passed down from Bill Jr. or Melissa.  Hers and hers
alone.
 
 She looked at her little boy, then up to her big boy.  Mulder
was grinning from ear to ear.  He remembered.  The first time she had
ever mentioned the book had been on that stakeout, in that horrible car
with no radio.  Even then she was aware of her feelings for Mulder,
had tried to stick to rather neutral poetry when he challenged her to
recite something from memory to pass the time.
 
 He remembered.
 
 William was hopping from foot to foot, shifting his weight,
waiting to be picked up and placed in her lap.  She shifted her legs so
that he would have enough room to sit.  William needed little
prompting to climb in his mother's lap.  He settled down quickly,
leaning against the crook of her arm.
 
 As she started to read, she spied Mulder lumbering into the
kitchen to do the forgotten dishes.  She'd have to remember to give
him a special thank you later.
 

===========================================================================

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
From: trel@troi.cc.rochester.edu (Rory "Calhoun" Cottrell)
Subject: NEW: "Opposite Poles" 3/14
Date: Fri, 1 Mar 96 04:29:35 GMT
 

disclaimer in 0/14
 

 Mulder listened to his wife reading to their child from his
post in the kitchen.  Her voice carried a lyrical quality, making the
silly rhymes sound like pure poetry as she read.  He had found the
book for her birthday, but after what happened today, he felt that she
could use the pick-me-up.  In the end, he knew he made the right
choice.
 
 The dishes didn't take long to do.  He put some water on to
boil as he finished drying the dishes.  The water was ready by the time
all the dishes were all put away.  He grabbed two mugs and two
packages of hot cocoa.  By the time the marshmallows had melted to a
sticky film on top, he could no longer hear Scully reading aloud.
 
 When he rounded the corner, he found the lamp turned off
and his wife and son cuddled on the couch.  William was fast asleep,
head leaning against her chest.  She had her arms wrapped securely
around him, head leaning back against the couch and eyes closed.  The
quilt his mother sent was covering them.  The picture of serenity.  He
would have taken a photograph if he wasn't afraid the flash would
wake them.
 
 He placed the mugs of cocoa on the end table and silently
moved to take William to his crib.  As he lifted Scully's arm, he felt
her resist.
 
 "I'm not asleep," she said quietly.
 
 "I was just going  to take the kid to his room."
 
 "Leave him for right now."  Scully opened her eyes, strained
her neck to look at William's angelic face.  "I just want to hold him for
a little while longer."
 
 Mulder smiled, slightly amused by his wife's clingy behavior
this evening.  Not that it was unwarranted; usually it was she that had
to pry the baby from his arms.  He still frequently made visits to the
daycare to see their son, if only for a few minutes.  Scully often teased
him about it, had joked that she would have to take on the role of
disciplinarian for both of her "children".
 
 But, she wanted, needed, that reassurance right now.  He did
not envy her role in the Singer case.  Little things like a sloppy kiss, a
small hug, a cock-eyed smile made her happy, especially when it was
their little Casanova rendering the tender loving care.
 
 "Mind if I join you?" he said, slipping down next to her on
the couch slowly so as not to jostle her or the baby.  He repositioned
the blanket so that all three of them were covered, then placed his arm
across his wife's shoulder.  He leaned in and kissed her tenderly on the
cheek.
 
 Scully returned with a kiss of her own, then snuggled down
close to that spot where his neck met his shoulders.  William shifted in
his sleep, but did not wake up.
 
 Minutes passed in silent communion.  Then, "Thanks for the
book."
 
 "Thank your mother.  She found it for me.  It looked like you
needed an early birthday gift.  All in a day's work."  He held her
tighter, wrapping his arms around both his wife and child.  He could
spend the rest of his days that way, and never think twice about it.  He
kissed the top of her head.  "Bad day?"
 
 Scully smiled up at him and replied, "It's getting better."
 
 "Want to talk about it?"  Scully's shoulders tensed, and he
could feel her embrace tighten around their son.  She shook her head,
turning slightly so that she was sitting in his lap, her head on his
chest.
 
 "You sure?" he asked again.  Now he wished that he had been
asked to assist on the case.  At least then he would have a better idea
what was bothering her, though he had an inkling.  Autopsies on
teenagers and children always set her off on a rather depressive funk.
 
 "Not right now," she said, closing her eyes and shifting
William in her arms so he was better supported with her new seating
position.  "I don't want to think about it tonight."
 
 "Okay.  You don't have to think about anything at all."
Mulder grabbed the blanket and drew it higher around their bodies.  A
cold chill permeated through the house through the large picture
window in the breakfast nook.  Centralized heating just did not cut it
with the occasional winter storm that hit the city.  He had loved the
house on first sight, not only for the fireplace, but for all the windows.
Open, airy, non-claustrophobic.  Everything his childhood home was
not.  The trade off for the windows was the cold nip in the air, like
tonight.  But it meant more cuddling, and he was all for cuddling,
especially with his wife and son in his arms.
 
 He loved sitting in the living room, staring out that window to
the backyard.  The moonlight streaming in through the plate glass, the
shadows playing on the trees of the back lot.  Before he knew it, nearly
an hour had passed.  The house was so peaceful at night; the settling
foundation when the wind blew, the hum of  the furnace kicking in
whenever the temperature dropped below 70 degrees, the sound of his
son's soft breathing, punctuated with a sigh every now and then.  He
loved those sighs.  Every little intake of breath, every whimper of
comfort.
 
 Scully's soft breath of sleep joined their son's, and he was
content to just listen to them both.  Her head lolled lower on his chest,
a hair's breadth away from William's head.  He held onto her for some
time longer; the moments passed too quickly for him.  But Scully
would wake with an awful crick in the neck, and William would be
better off in his crib and out of the chill of the living room.
 
 "Scully," he said softly into her hair.  She moaned softly,
snuggled closer.  "Scully, let's go to bed."
 
 "'Kay."  She didn't move, and fell back to sleep.
 
 "Dana," Mulder implored, shoving her just a little bit, not
wanted to lose the warmth of her body next to his, but also wanted her
to be more comfortable.  "You're sitting on my lap, I can't stand up."
 
 Waking slightly, Scully slipped off his lap, and didn't protest
when he took the baby.  Mulder held William high on his shoulder
with one arm, offering the other for Scully to use as leverage.  But
Scully had curled up on the couch, instinctively wrapping the edges of
the blanket around her body.
 
 "I'll come back for you later," he said, smiling.  There were
times when they had both been too tired, or too strung out from a case,
to bother moving from the couch of their respective apartments before
they were married.  Old habits died hard.
 
 William never woke as he carried him to his crib.  Mulder
drew the curtains to keep out the chill, piled on the blankets, knowing
that William would kick them off during the night.  William may have
picked up the picky eating from Scully, but the cover-kicking, that was
his legacy.  For that reason, they had the heat higher in his room, just
in case.
 
 After turning on the baby monitor, he crept back down the
hallway to turn out the lights and collect his wife.  The clock in the
hall chimed ten o'clock.  Still early in the evening for him, but that
didn't matter; he could use the extra sleep.  He stepped into the
kitchen, turned off the light above the sink.  The entire house was
dark, save for the moon light that streamed in from the picture
window.  He made the rounds of the house, checking all the doors and
windows before settling in the living room.  Sitting on the edge of the
couch, he watched as his wife slept.  She was curled tightly against the
cushions, afghan wrapped every which way.
 
 He gently shook her shoulder; not that he minded carrying
her to bed.  But she was so wound up, so tense lately,  he knew she
would be overly sensitive if he offered some good-natured pampering.
 
 "Dana, come on now, let's go to bed."
 
 "Fine where I am," she mumbled, burrowing further into the
couch cushions.
 
 "No no no.  Let's go.  Upsadaisy.  A sore back will not get you
out of driving to Philadelphia tomorrow."  He slipped his arms under
her legs and behind her back, lifting her easily into his arms.  She
draped her own around his neck, laughing softly into his neck.
 
 "If only it could be that easy," she said sleepily.
 
 Mulder gently placed her on the bed, pulled up the covers
around her shoulders, and she was asleep instantly.  Changing quickly,
he checked on William, grabbed an extra blanket from the linen closet,
and climbed into bed.  Tossing extraneous pillows to the floor, he
settled on his back while he waited for sleep to come.  He didn't feel
much like reading, nor did he want to wake Scully with the reading
lamp.
 
 He felt Scully nestling up next to him, laying her head in the
crook of his arm.  Instinctively, he started rubbing her back; the same
slow, tracing circles that worked wonders on William when he
couldn't sleep.  The night William was born, he prowled the hospital
halls, waiting for Scully to wake, wanting to show off his new son to
anyone and everyone.  Scully had been so tired, she fell right to sleep
after the birth.  She didn't see their son until the next morning for any
real length of time.
 
 Margaret was there the entire time too, keeping him in line
more or less.  He had been more than a little hyper during the birth,
with good reason.  William was early, they were late getting to the
hospital.  Margaret had found him, awe-struck and staring at the little
bundle in the nursery.  And he had so many questions.  He asked them
all rapid fire, and she patiently answered each and every one:  how to
change a diaper, how to fix formula, how to get him to sleep, what to
do if he cried and wouldn't stop,  and if the baby couldn't or wouldn't
sleep.
 
 He found a lot of the same remedies worked on his wife as
well.
 
 He felt Scully drift off to sleep, the tenseness still in her
shoulders.  Clingy behavior or not, he was just glad she was there,
next to him.  He wrapped his arms around her tightly, held her close.
Tomorrow would be another day.  Tomorrow would be better.
 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
end pt 1
 

===========================================================================

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
From: trel@troi.cc.rochester.edu (Rory "Calhoun" Cottrell)
Subject: NEW: "Opposite Poles" 4/14
Date: Fri, 1 Mar 96 04:32:50 GMT
 

disclaimer -- oh you know where it is.....
never play leap frog with a unicorn
 

"Opposite Poles"  Part 2
Mulder Residence
Tuesday morning, 2:30 AM
 
 Scully woke up with a start, cringing slightly at the crick that
had developed in her neck.  Blinking away the sleep from her eyes, she
checked the alarm clock.  The glowing green numbers read 2:32.
She looked over at Mulder.  He was fast asleep, one arm draped across
his eyes and the other around her.
 
 Since their marriage, Mulder rarely had the insomniac
episodes he was so well known for when they were working on the X-
files.  Though, for a while, they had thought they were raising a junior
insomniac just a few doors down.  Like his father before him, William
liked to stay up late, wake up early, sleep sporadically, and generally
cause worry for no reason.  He had already pulled a number of all-
niters, and he was still in diapers.
 
 She listened intently to the baby monitor, wondering if
William was up as well.  Sure enough, there was the gentle thud of
some toy falling to the floor.  He was awake, amusing himself.  At
least he had stopped demanding attention whenever he was awake,
content to stay in his crib until someone came to fetch him.
 
  WHUMP!  William must have dropped the bear over the
side.  Pretty soon, -- <not too soon, I hope> she thought to herself, --
he'd be climbing out of the crib himself.  She wasn't looking forward
to the first major fall.
 
 "Uh oh."  Another toy hit the floor.
 
 She listened to him play in his crib.  There were mostly soft
toys in there, things that he could not accidentally strangle himself
with.  All the edges were snug enough so that he couldn't slip his head
or a leg through.  Mulder had found a mobile with little spaceships
hanging from it.  William was still too short to reach that one.
 
 A rattling noise filled the quiet void.  He was playing with the
Busy Baby thingamajig, the one with the silver plastic mirror and the
colored beads in the abacus and the squeak toy in the corner.
TWEET-TWEET.  TWEET-TWEET.  Yup, he found the squeak toy.
 
 Well, there was no sense being awake by herself.  She slipped
out from under Mulder's arm, and replaced the blankets that he had
kicked off in the night.  Grabbing a sweatshirt from the bureau, she
quickly tugged it on and snuck into William's room.
 
 William stood up in his crib, bouncing in that way he always
did whenever she entered the room.  She put a finger to her lips to
hush him, and he was all smiles.  It didn't take long for her eyes to
adjust enough to see that he had made a very large mess on the floor.
All of the toys, except for the ones attached to the side of the crib, were
on the floor.  One was even tossed all the way across the room.
 
 "Mr. Right-field, how about we go get some cocoa, huh?"
She lifted him out of the crib, rearranging his sleepers so that his feet
were where they belonged.  Then she grabbed the baby blanket that
was draped across the rocker and carried William to the kitchen.
 
 "Bye," he said.
 
 "Shush.  We don't want to wake up Daddy, do we?"  She
stepped into the kitchen, flipping on the light over the kitchen nook.
The overhanging fixture provided more than enough illumination to
get around without tripping.
 
 She grabbed a mug from the cabinet, filled it with water from
the tap.  Popping it in the microwave, she keyed the timer for a minute
and a half.  William reached down to press the start button.
 
 "Okay, buster, what do we have for you this morning.  How
about a teething cookie, huh?"  She walked over to another cupboard
as the water heated in the microwave.  The cupboard above held all the
dry goods in their kitchen, including William's treats and the hot
cocoa.  Standing on the counter, William was just a little bit taller than
her, and he eagerly opened the cupboard door.  William reached for
his cookie box, handed it to her.
 
 She pointed to the box of hot cocoa packets, and he pulled
that down as well.  "Thank you very much, sir."  He closed the cabinet
door for her, then waited impatiently for his cookie.
 
 The microwave beeped.  Taking a packet from the hot cocoa
box, she carried him, the package and the cookie to the table, left the
cocoa and cookie on the table, then went to retrieve the mug of water
and a spoon.
 
 William sat quietly on her lap after she settled down herself.
He reached for his cookie, gnawed on it as she stirred her cocoa.  He
offered her part of his treat.
 
 "Thank you," she said, taking the cookie and placing it on the
table.  Teething cookies did not exactly appeal to her tastebuds, but
William seemed to like them.  Strange thing was Mulder liked them
too.
 
 "So, why are you up at this early hour, William?" she asked,
fussing over her cocoa.  It was still too hot to take normal sips;
marshmallows formed a sticky lake of goo on the top.  William was
more interested in his cookie.
 
 Shifting him in her lap so that he leaned back against her
chest, she had both hands free to wrap around the mug.  "You know
why I'm up?  I bet you don't."
 
 William turned around, offered more of his cookie.  She
shook her head, and he went back to gumming individual pieces.
 
 "I had to tell some people the other day that their daughter
wasn't coming home.  That they may have a grandchild living
somewhere in the country that they never knew about.  And they
couldn't stop crying.  They hadn't seen their daughter for over a year.
She left because she had a fight with her father."
 
 She took a sip of cocoa, letting it burn her tastebuds and slip
down the back of her throat.  William picked up her spoon and started
banging it against the table top.  Scully stilled his hand, gently took
the spoon away and placed it out of reach.  He seemed unperturbed by
her taking away his toy, and played with his cookie once again.
 
 "You know, I used to fight with my dad.  Oh, we had a doozy
right before I went to work for the Bureau.  And, you know, your
Daddy didn't talk with his parents for a long time either."
 
 It was strange, now that she thought about it.  Mulder didn't
want to be called 'Dad' or 'Papa'.  From the first time he laid eyes on
their son, holding the small bundle in his arms like something so
precious, he smiled and said to her, "I'm a Daddy".  It suited him, and
it stuck. Maybe it was because he wanted to distance himself from the
image of his own father.  She didn't argue with that logic, understated
as it was.  Mulder was so afraid he wouldn't be a good father.  All
along he had nothing to worry about.  Watching him hold their baby
that first night brought it all into perspective.
 
 "I never understood my father's point of view before.  He was
just so overprotective, I didn't understand what he was so afraid of,
until today.  Your father can be that way, I'm just warning you now.  I
wish you could have met my father.  He'd just adore you."
 
 William turned slightly, dropping the cookie in her lap.  She
picked it up and placed it back on the table in front of them.
 
 "Your grandfather used to smuggle me downstairs for late
night chats too.  Somehow, he always knew when I was awake in my
room.  He'd carry me downstairs, and fix us both mugs of hot cocoa.
And he'd just talk to me, about anything.
 
 "Your grandfather never was much for spilling his guts.  He
was always the strong, silent type I guess.  It wasn't until a few years
ago that I figured out those late night sessions were more for him than
for me.  He'd come back from maneuvers, and I was just so glad he
was home that I never noticed anything wrong with him.  Missy told
me years later that whenever his ship was involved in any sort of
fighting, he would come home a different person.
 
 "I don't know, maybe I'm doing the same thing.  You don't
mind, do you?"  William shook his head; whether or not it was in
answer to her question, she didn't know.  "I'm beginning to see the
appeal of this, you're a great little listener."
 
 Scully wrapped her arms around him tighter, kissed the top of
his head.  "I have to go away for a few days.  I'm going to miss you so
much.  You know what, I haven't even left and I'm already homesick.
Can you believe that?  Your Mommy is homesick."  She hadn't been
homesick since she was a child.  But homesickness was better than the
other option, and she didn't want to think about that one.
 
 William started reaching for her mug.  "You want some of
this, huh?  Well, just so long as I don't find sneaker prints on the
ceiling."  She tested the temperature with her pinkie, deemed it safe,
then helped him hold the mug to his lips.  Most spilled over his
mouth, but the one sip was enough to keep him satisfied.  He pushed
the mug towards her mouth.
 
 "Whatever your Daddy says, chocolate works wonders.
Remember that," she said, taking a sip herself.  "You come from a
long, proud line of chocoholics."
 
 Still playing with the remnants of the cookie, William pushed
the leftovers across the table top in front of him.  She watched, amused
at the repetitiveness of the motion, how meticulous his motions were.
Careful, exact, a stickler for detail, like his father.
 
 "I can just imagine the arguments we'll have when you're
older.  Oh boy, can I imagine.  Let's hope you inherited my mother's
temper, or lack thereof I should say."
 
 "Nana," William babbled, slapping his palms on the tabletop.
He held his sticky hands up to show her, flexing his fingers with their
new found gooeyness.
 
 Scully nodded, smiling.  "That's right, Grandma Scully.
Nana."
 
 "Baba," he said, pointing at her.
 
 "No.  Mama."
 
 "Baba."
 
 "Close enough."
 
 William knew all of three words that actually meant
something, then a host of others that changed meaning depending on
the day.  The ever-popular 'bye'.  He loved the car, staring out the
windows up at the sky.  There was 'no', frequented often and loudly
and in the most inappropriate of places.  'Nana' was his word for
grandma.  'Baba' spanned anything from Daddy to blanket to bottle.
 
 William started sucking on his fingers, one sign that he was
getting tired.  "Can you hold on a few more minutes for Mommy?  I'm
not quite finished yet."  He turned in her lap, standing on her thighs
and wrapping his little arms around her neck.
 
 "Okay, just a few more minutes."  She leaned back in the
chair, still within reach of her mug.  The cocoa had lost its heat in the
cold kitchen.  She rearranged the baby blanket around her son so that
he was better covered.
 
 She shifted in her chair so she could prop her feet up on
another, rocking slightly back and forth.  Instinctively she started
rubbing his back, the tension in her own shoulders melting as she felt
him relax in her arms.
 
 From her new position, the backyard was clearly visible.  She
stared, hypnotized by the crystal clear night and the moonlight dance
on the blanket of snow.  Walking to the large picture window, she
could just make out the snow angels they had made the weekend
before, and Mulder's half-way decent attempt at a snow-alien in the
back corner.  The trees, barren, stood like sentries in the night,
glistening with their protective covering of snow and icicles.
 
 She looked up at the moon, whole and full of light.  A bright
halo surrounded it, like crystals in the light.  Oh, she knew all the
physics and science around the phenomena, but just now, it didn't
seem right, so quiet and tranquil. The moon was so bright, she
couldn't make out the winter constellations.  It was magical.
 
 Her father had stories for all the constellations.  He had a
story for everything: why is the sky blue, why does it thunder, how
come rainbows only come out after the rain?  None of them were based
on fact, but it seemed sacrilegious not to pass on the stories.  The truth
may be out there, but innocence was bliss.  She wouldn't take that
away from him.
 
 Sometime during her reverie, she didn't know when or how,
but when her gaze fell back to the reflection on the glass window,
there was another face there.  Eyes puffy with sleep, hair all askew,
Mulder lumbered closer, wrapped his arms around them both.
 
 She leaned back into his embrace, placed the back of her head
on his chest.
 
 "You okay?" he asked, kissing the top of her head.
 
 Nodding, she peered around her son's head to see his face.
"He asleep yet?"
 
 "Like a baby."
 
 "Very funny."
 
 "Come on, you have a long day tomorrow.  We both do."  He
took her by the shoulders and steered her towards the bedroom,
catching the light as he went.
 
     --
 Baby safely settled, Mulder took her hand and led her back to
their bedroom.  Climbing in after her, he pulled the covers up and
over, made a show of tucking her in as she had William.  Scully
laughed, quietly enjoying the attention.
 
 Mulder wrapped his arms around her, waited for her to settle
down.  But the tenseness returned, and he knew that she probably
wouldn't sleep anytime soon.  Minutes, half and hour passed with no
change.  He found her hand with his and squeezed gently.
 
 "Chatterton would understand if you asked off the
assignment."
 
 "I know."
 
 He couldn't help but think of old cases, whenever children
were involved.  He had his fair share of cases that were a little too
personal, abduction cases especially, but children were Scully's
Achilles heel.  Even he had been taken in by Cindy Reardon and Tina
Simmons, before they showed their true nature.  The Kryder case had
been tough on her as well, not only because a child was involved but
because he had given her the cold shoulder about her belief in the
possibilities of miracles.  He had put himself in the dog house on that
one.
 
 "You don't have to do this.  I know how hard this is for you."
 
 "It would be hard on anyone, Mulder."
 
 "You don't have to do this, you're not assigned to Violent
Crimes."
 
 "Chatterton asked me to do this.  I said yes.  Let's leave it at
that, okay?"
 
 "What are you afraid of?"
 
 Scully turned in his arms, enough so that he could see her
face.  He propped his head up with his hand so that he hovered just
above her face.
 
 "Afraid of?  What are you talking about?" she asked.  Her
voice wavered just the slightest bit, and he knew he hit the sore spot.
 
 "This case has you on edge, you're tense.  You only get that
way when you're frightened, and don't tell me I'm wrong because I
know you."
 
 "It's not just this case."  She turned away for a moment,
rearranging the covers a bit to buy some time.  He waited patiently for
her to finish her nesting, knowing that she would spill what she was
feeling eventually.
 
 "I don't know.  The girl today, sixteen years old.  When I was
sixteen my biggest worry was my next physics test."
 
 "Physics?  I was still taking biology.  How did you manage
that?"
 
 Scully elbowed him in the chest.  "You're changing the
subject."
 
 "Your's is depressing.  Mine's more fun."  She elbowed him
again.  "Sorry," he replied.  Scully snuggled closer, and he thought he
heard a muffled sigh.  He wrapped his arm around her protectively.
"It's okay," he whispered in her ear.  She was holding back something,
he knew.  In her own time, she would tell him, and he knew this too.
She hated being depressed.
 
 "What kind of monster would do that to a child?" she asked,
squeezing her pillow just a little bit tighter.
 
 "I don't know.  I don't know.  Do you want me to do some
finagling?  I can find a good excuse to go to Philly for a few days.
And your mother has been dying to show off  her grandson to all her
friends."
 
 Scully shook her head; his show of humor wasn't going to
work tonight.  It was something she wanted to work out on her own.
He hated to have her feel this way about any case.  No matter how
much he did not want to see her go, he knew she wanted this case to
be solved, and true to her nature, she would cope with it any way she
knew how.
 
 "Take my car, okay, not some rental from the bureau car pool.
I'll move all the baby's stuff into yours tomorrow.  It's due for an oil
change anyway."  He knew she wouldn't argue with him on that point;
she hated the dreaded car pool about as much as he did.
 
 "Okay," she replied sleepily.  The tension was leaving her
shoulders; not totally, but enough to let her relax.  He was grateful;
insomnia was for days past.  It had taken him years to learn what a
decent night's sleep was like, and that hadn't happened until Dana
entered his life.  He was concerned about her, though.  She hadn't slept
well for well over a week, and with a wry smile, some of those
sleepless nights were his doing.  More than once he had awakened to
find the other side of the bed empty, its occupant sitting in the living
room or kitchen.  None of his remedies were working.
 
 He placed his hand on her stomach, gently tracing soft circles
there with his fingers.  She was falling asleep, finally, her breath
slowing into a slow, rhythmic pace that he used to lull himself to sleep
as well.  With one final look at the clock, he decided he would let her
sleep in if she didn't wake up on her own; he'd get the car ready, make
sure William was set for day care.  She needed the rest, and he
wouldn't take any argument about it in the morning.
 
 His last thought before dropping off was that it would be their
last night together for a while.  He snuggled closer, hoping she would
stay asleep throughout the rest of the night.
 

===========================================================================

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
From: trel@troi.cc.rochester.edu (Rory "Calhoun" Cottrell)
Subject: NEW: "Opposite Poles" 5/14
Date: Fri, 1 Mar 96 04:35:48 GMT
 

i think stupid sayings are much more fun than disclaimers, don't you think?
protect copralites; they're an endangered feces
 

 The highway was no longer crawling with the first bout of
rush hour traffic, for which Scully was truly grateful.  Not that she
minded driving, but Mulder usually did most of it when they were on
field assignments together.  And she missed his colorful terms of
endearment for bad drivers, muttered under his breath now that the
baby was born.
 
 It was funny.  Neither one of them had much use for foul
language, even before the baby was born, but more often than not,
'baby-correct' terms had been adopted for the more colorful four letter
words.  Even tastes in music changed with William around.  Audio
tapes of Burl Ives, Raffi, Sesame Street and Mother Goose rhymes had
more often than not replaced the assortment of rock and roll Mulder
had stashed in every open space in the car.  There was nothing wrong
with The Allmon Brothers, The Grateful Dead, or even the Simon and
Garfunkel tapes Mulder claimed were not his.  In fact, she had found
William rather liked Simon and Garfunkel.
 
 Thinking of music, she realized that she was losing the radio
station she was listening to as she cleared the DC area.  Her own tastes
tended toward anything non-grating to the ears and understandable
lyrics, and choices for radio stations were limited to those that kept
commercial breaks to a minimum.  Still, being alone in the car,
without Mulder along to play DJ, did have its good points: no channel
surfing.  He had the attention span of a flea when it came to switching
channels.
 
 She hit the preset channel buttons to see what he had
programmed; NPR, a classic rock station, the contemporary/soft rock
station, oldies, some alternative rock station.  They were all fuzzy and
static-filled.
 
 "Tape time," she announced aloud, rummaging around the
front seat for Mulder's stash of tapes.  There had to be something that
did not have sheep bah-ing in the background.
 
 Pink Floyd, no.  Rolling Stones, nah.  Sting, more Jackie's
style.
 
 She found one, unlabeled.  There was an empty case caught
under the arm rest.  All it said was 'MIX - June'.  Last summer.
Mulder had gone on a special recruiting assignment for Skinner last
June.  He must have made a tape for the car ride to Ohio, suspecting
that he wouldn't find any decent radio stations while he was away.
 
 Out of curiosity, she popped the tape in to the player.  <This
has to be interesting,> she thought to herself, adjusting the volume
when a loud burst of static blasted from the speakers.
 
 Twangs from a reedy banjo filtered through the car, and she
had to smile, remembering the significance around the Muppet song.
It had been just after William was born.  She was so tired, had hardly
slept a wink in nearly a week.  They were at her mother's house,
having missed Thanksgiving due to the early arrival of their little
bundle.  Turkey Day was postponed for the Scully clan, though dinner
was nearly non-existent for her, too tired to make it through the taped
parades, let alone dinner without a nap.
 
 But William was a welcome addition to a house already
bustling with grandmother and aunts and uncles and cousins and
adopted family members.  Despite all the constant attention, William
was only truly happy in his parents or grandmother's arms.  And he
had started crying in the middle of the night.  It wasn't feeding time,
he didn't need to be changed.  Mulder was so skittish about the whole
thing, it pained him to see his son crying without a ready remedy.  He
got out of bed, leaned over the side of the bassinet to see what all the
hub-bub was about.
 
 "Sing something," she had said, too tired to do it herself.
Mulder had a wonderful singing voice, one he rarely used.
 
 Mulder stood dumbfounded.  "My mind's gone blank.  I can't
think of any lullabies."
 
 "Anything, Mulder.  It doesn't matter.  He likes to hear your
voice."  <So do I,> she added silently.
 
 Then, after a few minutes, he started the only song that
popped into his sleep-deprived brain.  "The Rainbow Connection".  It
had worked, for a little while anyway.  Muppet songs still worked in a
pinch.
 
 Kermit's voice trailed off, and was replaced by mixed guitar
chords and strains of violins in the background.  This was nothing like
the music she expected on one of Mulder's mix tapes.  His tastes
usually went in the direction of the extremely strange, off the beaten
path songs that no one had ever heard of.  Though the voices sounded
familiar, she couldn't place the song.
 
 "each time you'd pull down the drive way,
I wasn't sure when I would see you again.
yours was a twisted, blind-sided highway,
no matter which road you took then.
oh, you set up your place in my heart,
moved in and made my thinking crowded.
now we're out in the back with the barking dog,
my heart the red sun,
your heart the moon clouded...
 
I could go crazy on a night like tonight
summer's beginning to give up her fight,
and every thought's a possibility
and voices are heard, but nothing is seen.
why do you spend this time with me?...
may be an equal mystery...
 
 <Mulder listens to this?> she wondered.  She listened
carefully to the lyrics, intent on figuring out what made this song so
special to deserve a place on one of Mulder's mix tapes.  It was quiet,
unimposing, and decidedly un-Mulder-ish.  Mulder preferred loud,
fast, foot-tapping, keep-you-awake-on-long-road-trips music, or at
least that's what she always thought.  Then again, she knew the Simon
and Garfunkel tape wasn't hers.
 
 Brow creased, she tried to find the hidden meaning in the
words, read between the lines.  Mulder never did anything without a
purpose, sometimes only known to him, but she had figured out a few
of his little secrets.  The fact that he could cook when given the
opportunity.  That he had a soft spot for kids, not only William, but for
all of her nieces and nephews.   After all, he was just like them, a kid
at heart.
 
so what is love then?
is it dictated, or chosen?
does it sing like the hymns of a thousand years,
or is it just pop emotion?
and if it was ever here and it left,
does it mean it was never true?
and to exist it must elude...
is that why I think these things of you?..
 
 She remembered the night he proposed, and how if he hadn't
spit out the words she was going to do it for him.  Jackie often kidded
that their engagement had started the day they met.  In a sense it was
true, they just didn't see it, and if they did, refused to believe it.  They
hadn't needed to say a word when they went to see Jackie and Marty
about their engagement.  Everyone else had seen it before they did.  It
took a separation order from Skinner for them to realize it.  Maybe the
lyrics were right.
 
...oh but you like the taste of danger,
it shines like sugar on your lips.
and you like to stand in the line of fire
just to show you can shoot straight from your hip.
there must be a thousand things you would die for,
I can hardly think of two.
but not everything is better spoken aloud,
not when I'm talking to you.
 
oh the pirate gets the ship
and the girl tonight brings a bottle to christen her,
basking in the exploits of her thief,
she's a very good listener.
and maybe that's all that we need
is to meet in the middle of impossibility
standing at opposite poles
equal partners in a mystery.
we're standing at opposite poles,
equal partners in a mystery."
 
 There was a lull in the tape as the song ended, followed by a
few notes of whatever was the next selection on the CD, or whatever
he dubbed the song from.  It was abruptly cut off with some Monty
Python song.  It was just like Mulder to go from a beautiful ballad to
some asinine, puerile ditty about bodily fluids.  Thankfully it wasn't
very long, and a more traditional, Mulder-like song began: 'Time
Warp'.
 
 But she did wonder about the ballad.  It was so unlike him,
though she always suspected he was a closet romantic.  She never
expected overt signs of affection from him, like flowers or balloons.
But things like cooking dinner, singing her father's lullaby to William
when he was upset and unable to sleep, finding the Dr. Suess book --
the unexpected little surprises, those were so like him.  Unpredictable.
And as she thought about it, and his closet romantic tendencies, hiding
the song on a tape that he had made for the first trip away from home
without her or the baby, on a tape that probably only he would listen
to, and might even deny having if ever confronted, with a smile on his
lips and a blush of embarrassment for being sentimental... left for her
first trip without the baby?
 
 And for a brief moment, she wondered if he had truly left the
tape on purpose.  Mulder was cleaning out the car of needed baby
things when she woke up that morning.  William, not surprisingly,
was waiting patiently in his crib to be changed when she went in to
check on him.  From the nursery window, she could see Mulder, still
dressed in the sweats he wore to bed, hauling out the baby seat and
hordes of toys from the back seat of his Taurus.  There was a lot to
carry, and she watched with great amusement as he tried to juggle all
the toys, closing and opening the car doors without dropping anything.
He must have gone through the front seat to get William's Mother
Goose tape.  They couldn't travel in the car without it.  Some children
had security blankets, William had his favorite tape.
 
 Mulder must have left it for her, knowing she would listen to
it on her way to Philadelphia.  Other than the Monty Python bit, and
'Time Warp' , everything else on the tape was music she listened to,
songs that had special meaning for the both of them.  The songs that
Jackie had them 'dedicate' to each other on those late night stake outs,
hoping to prime the pump of their relationship a bit.  So maybe six
years was a bit extreme, but not unreasonable.  They pulled off the
wedding in a week, they bought the house they wanted their children
to grow up in record time.  There may not have been anything physical
going on between them during those six years, but there had to be
some deeper, subtle understanding between them, else the same-day
proposal, the quick deposit on the house, and the gun-shot wedding
would have been a disaster.  Given the choice, she wouldn't want it
any other way.
 
 Before she knew it, she was in the city limits of Philadelphia.
The tape had run its course twice now, and each time she found
something new she loved about the choices they had made together.
 
 She had made good time, too.  Estimating that she would be
at the field office for at least an hour talking with the ASAC and the
agents assigned to the case, and figuring 3 hours for the autopsy itself,
the hardest part of the case would be over by mid-afternoon.
Normally, the autopsy part was the easiest for her, finding the subtle
clues that normal investigators might overlook because they were not
trained to see them.  She had a feeling that would not be the case
today.
 
===========================================
 
 

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
From: trel@troi.cc.rochester.edu (Rory "Calhoun" Cottrell)
Subject: NEW: "Opposite Poles" 4/14
Date: Fri, 1 Mar 96 04:32:50 GMT
 

disclaimer -- oh you know where it is.....
never play leap frog with a unicorn
 

"Opposite Poles"  Part 2
Mulder Residence
Tuesday morning, 2:30 AM
 
 Scully woke up with a start, cringing slightly at the crick that
had developed in her neck.  Blinking away the sleep from her eyes, she
checked the alarm clock.  The glowing green numbers read 2:32.
She looked over at Mulder.  He was fast asleep, one arm draped across
his eyes and the other around her.
 
 Since their marriage, Mulder rarely had the insomniac
episodes he was so well known for when they were working on the X-
files.  Though, for a while, they had thought they were raising a junior
insomniac just a few doors down.  Like his father before him, William
liked to stay up late, wake up early, sleep sporadically, and generally
cause worry for no reason.  He had already pulled a number of all-
niters, and he was still in diapers.
 
 She listened intently to the baby monitor, wondering if
William was up as well.  Sure enough, there was the gentle thud of
some toy falling to the floor.  He was awake, amusing himself.  At
least he had stopped demanding attention whenever he was awake,
content to stay in his crib until someone came to fetch him.
 
  WHUMP!  William must have dropped the bear over the
side.  Pretty soon, -- <not too soon, I hope> she thought to herself, --
he'd be climbing out of the crib himself.  She wasn't looking forward
to the first major fall.
 
 "Uh oh."  Another toy hit the floor.
 
 She listened to him play in his crib.  There were mostly soft
toys in there, things that he could not accidentally strangle himself
with.  All the edges were snug enough so that he couldn't slip his head
or a leg through.  Mulder had found a mobile with little spaceships
hanging from it.  William was still too short to reach that one.
 
 A rattling noise filled the quiet void.  He was playing with the
Busy Baby thingamajig, the one with the silver plastic mirror and the
colored beads in the abacus and the squeak toy in the corner.
TWEET-TWEET.  TWEET-TWEET.  Yup, he found the squeak toy.
 
 Well, there was no sense being awake by herself.  She slipped
out from under Mulder's arm, and replaced the blankets that he had
kicked off in the night.  Grabbing a sweatshirt from the bureau, she
quickly tugged it on and snuck into William's room.
 
 William stood up in his crib, bouncing in that way he always
did whenever she entered the room.  She put a finger to her lips to
hush him, and he was all smiles.  It didn't take long for her eyes to
adjust enough to see that he had made a very large mess on the floor.
All of the toys, except for the ones attached to the side of the crib, were
on the floor.  One was even tossed all the way across the room.
 
 "Mr. Right-field, how about we go get some cocoa, huh?"
She lifted him out of the crib, rearranging his sleepers so that his feet
were where they belonged.  Then she grabbed the baby blanket that
was draped across the rocker and carried William to the kitchen.
 
 "Bye," he said.
 
 "Shush.  We don't want to wake up Daddy, do we?"  She
stepped into the kitchen, flipping on the light over the kitchen nook.
The overhanging fixture provided more than enough illumination to
get around without tripping.
 
 She grabbed a mug from the cabinet, filled it with water from
the tap.  Popping it in the microwave, she keyed the timer for a minute
and a half.  William reached down to press the start button.
 
 "Okay, buster, what do we have for you this morning.  How
about a teething cookie, huh?"  She walked over to another cupboard
as the water heated in the microwave.  The cupboard above held all the
dry goods in their kitchen, including William's treats and the hot
cocoa.  Standing on the counter, William was just a little bit taller than
her, and he eagerly opened the cupboard door.  William reached for
his cookie box, handed it to her.
 
 She pointed to the box of hot cocoa packets, and he pulled
that down as well.  "Thank you very much, sir."  He closed the cabinet
door for her, then waited impatiently for his cookie.
 
 The microwave beeped.  Taking a packet from the hot cocoa
box, she carried him, the package and the cookie to the table, left the
cocoa and cookie on the table, then went to retrieve the mug of water
and a spoon.
 
 William sat quietly on her lap after she settled down herself.
He reached for his cookie, gnawed on it as she stirred her cocoa.  He
offered her part of his treat.
 
 "Thank you," she said, taking the cookie and placing it on the
table.  Teething cookies did not exactly appeal to her tastebuds, but
William seemed to like them.  Strange thing was Mulder liked them
too.
 
 "So, why are you up at this early hour, William?" she asked,
fussing over her cocoa.  It was still too hot to take normal sips;
marshmallows formed a sticky lake of goo on the top.  William was
more interested in his cookie.
 
 Shifting him in her lap so that he leaned back against her
chest, she had both hands free to wrap around the mug.  "You know
why I'm up?  I bet you don't."
 
 William turned around, offered more of his cookie.  She
shook her head, and he went back to gumming individual pieces.
 
 "I had to tell some people the other day that their daughter
wasn't coming home.  That they may have a grandchild living
somewhere in the country that they never knew about.  And they
couldn't stop crying.  They hadn't seen their daughter for over a year.
She left because she had a fight with her father."
 
 She took a sip of cocoa, letting it burn her tastebuds and slip
down the back of her throat.  William picked up her spoon and started
banging it against the table top.  Scully stilled his hand, gently took
the spoon away and placed it out of reach.  He seemed unperturbed by
her taking away his toy, and played with his cookie once again.
 
 "You know, I used to fight with my dad.  Oh, we had a doozy
right before I went to work for the Bureau.  And, you know, your
Daddy didn't talk with his parents for a long time either."
 
 It was strange, now that she thought about it.  Mulder didn't
want to be called 'Dad' or 'Papa'.  From the first time he laid eyes on
their son, holding the small bundle in his arms like something so
precious, he smiled and said to her, "I'm a Daddy".  It suited him, and
it stuck. Maybe it was because he wanted to distance himself from the
image of his own father.  She didn't argue with that logic, understated
as it was.  Mulder was so afraid he wouldn't be a good father.  All
along he had nothing to worry about.  Watching him hold their baby
that first night brought it all into perspective.
 
 "I never understood my father's point of view before.  He was
just so overprotective, I didn't understand what he was so afraid of,
until today.  Your father can be that way, I'm just warning you now.  I
wish you could have met my father.  He'd just adore you."
 
 William turned slightly, dropping the cookie in her lap.  She
picked it up and placed it back on the table in front of them.
 
 "Your grandfather used to smuggle me downstairs for late
night chats too.  Somehow, he always knew when I was awake in my
room.  He'd carry me downstairs, and fix us both mugs of hot cocoa.
And he'd just talk to me, about anything.
 
 "Your grandfather never was much for spilling his guts.  He
was always the strong, silent type I guess.  It wasn't until a few years
ago that I figured out those late night sessions were more for him than
for me.  He'd come back from maneuvers, and I was just so glad he
was home that I never noticed anything wrong with him.  Missy told
me years later that whenever his ship was involved in any sort of
fighting, he would come home a different person.
 
 "I don't know, maybe I'm doing the same thing.  You don't
mind, do you?"  William shook his head; whether or not it was in
answer to her question, she didn't know.  "I'm beginning to see the
appeal of this, you're a great little listener."
 
 Scully wrapped her arms around him tighter, kissed the top of
his head.  "I have to go away for a few days.  I'm going to miss you so
much.  You know what, I haven't even left and I'm already homesick.
Can you believe that?  Your Mommy is homesick."  She hadn't been
homesick since she was a child.  But homesickness was better than the
other option, and she didn't want to think about that one.
 
 William started reaching for her mug.  "You want some of
this, huh?  Well, just so long as I don't find sneaker prints on the
ceiling."  She tested the temperature with her pinkie, deemed it safe,
then helped him hold the mug to his lips.  Most spilled over his
mouth, but the one sip was enough to keep him satisfied.  He pushed
the mug towards her mouth.
 
 "Whatever your Daddy says, chocolate works wonders.
Remember that," she said, taking a sip herself.  "You come from a
long, proud line of chocoholics."
 
 Still playing with the remnants of the cookie, William pushed
the leftovers across the table top in front of him.  She watched, amused
at the repetitiveness of the motion, how meticulous his motions were.
Careful, exact, a stickler for detail, like his father.
 
 "I can just imagine the arguments we'll have when you're
older.  Oh boy, can I imagine.  Let's hope you inherited my mother's
temper, or lack thereof I should say."
 
 "Nana," William babbled, slapping his palms on the tabletop.
He held his sticky hands up to show her, flexing his fingers with their
new found gooeyness.
 
 Scully nodded, smiling.  "That's right, Grandma Scully.
Nana."
 
 "Baba," he said, pointing at her.
 
 "No.  Mama."
 
 "Baba."
 
 "Close enough."
 
 William knew all of three words that actually meant
something, then a host of others that changed meaning depending on
the day.  The ever-popular 'bye'.  He loved the car, staring out the
windows up at the sky.  There was 'no', frequented often and loudly
and in the most inappropriate of places.  'Nana' was his word for
grandma.  'Baba' spanned anything from Daddy to blanket to bottle.
 
 William started sucking on his fingers, one sign that he was
getting tired.  "Can you hold on a few more minutes for Mommy?  I'm
not quite finished yet."  He turned in her lap, standing on her thighs
and wrapping his little arms around her neck.
 
 "Okay, just a few more minutes."  She leaned back in the
chair, still within reach of her mug.  The cocoa had lost its heat in the
cold kitchen.  She rearranged the baby blanket around her son so that
he was better covered.
 
 She shifted in her chair so she could prop her feet up on
another, rocking slightly back and forth.  Instinctively she started
rubbing his back, the tension in her own shoulders melting as she felt
him relax in her arms.
 
 From her new position, the backyard was clearly visible.  She
stared, hypnotized by the crystal clear night and the moonlight dance
on the blanket of snow.  Walking to the large picture window, she
could just make out the snow angels they had made the weekend
before, and Mulder's half-way decent attempt at a snow-alien in the
back corner.  The trees, barren, stood like sentries in the night,
glistening with their protective covering of snow and icicles.
 
 She looked up at the moon, whole and full of light.  A bright
halo surrounded it, like crystals in the light.  Oh, she knew all the
physics and science around the phenomena, but just now, it didn't
seem right, so quiet and tranquil. The moon was so bright, she
couldn't make out the winter constellations.  It was magical.
 
 Her father had stories for all the constellations.  He had a
story for everything: why is the sky blue, why does it thunder, how
come rainbows only come out after the rain?  None of them were based
on fact, but it seemed sacrilegious not to pass on the stories.  The truth
may be out there, but innocence was bliss.  She wouldn't take that
away from him.
 
 Sometime during her reverie, she didn't know when or how,
but when her gaze fell back to the reflection on the glass window,
there was another face there.  Eyes puffy with sleep, hair all askew,
Mulder lumbered closer, wrapped his arms around them both.
 
 She leaned back into his embrace, placed the back of her head
on his chest.
 
 "You okay?" he asked, kissing the top of her head.
 
 Nodding, she peered around her son's head to see his face.
"He asleep yet?"
 
 "Like a baby."
 
 "Very funny."
 
 "Come on, you have a long day tomorrow.  We both do."  He
took her by the shoulders and steered her towards the bedroom,
catching the light as he went.
 
     --
 Baby safely settled, Mulder took her hand and led her back to
their bedroom.  Climbing in after her, he pulled the covers up and
over, made a show of tucking her in as she had William.  Scully
laughed, quietly enjoying the attention.
 
 Mulder wrapped his arms around her, waited for her to settle
down.  But the tenseness returned, and he knew that she probably
wouldn't sleep anytime soon.  Minutes, half and hour passed with no
change.  He found her hand with his and squeezed gently.
 
 "Chatterton would understand if you asked off the
assignment."
 
 "I know."
 
 He couldn't help but think of old cases, whenever children
were involved.  He had his fair share of cases that were a little too
personal, abduction cases especially, but children were Scully's
Achilles heel.  Even he had been taken in by Cindy Reardon and Tina
Simmons, before they showed their true nature.  The Kryder case had
been tough on her as well, not only because a child was involved but
because he had given her the cold shoulder about her belief in the
possibilities of miracles.  He had put himself in the dog house on that
one.
 
 "You don't have to do this.  I know how hard this is for you."
 
 "It would be hard on anyone, Mulder."
 
 "You don't have to do this, you're not assigned to Violent
Crimes."
 
 "Chatterton asked me to do this.  I said yes.  Let's leave it at
that, okay?"
 
 "What are you afraid of?"
 
 Scully turned in his arms, enough so that he could see her
face.  He propped his head up with his hand so that he hovered just
above her face.
 
 "Afraid of?  What are you talking about?" she asked.  Her
voice wavered just the slightest bit, and he knew he hit the sore spot.
 
 "This case has you on edge, you're tense.  You only get that
way when you're frightened, and don't tell me I'm wrong because I
know you."
 
 "It's not just this case."  She turned away for a moment,
rearranging the covers a bit to buy some time.  He waited patiently for
her to finish her nesting, knowing that she would spill what she was
feeling eventually.
 
 "I don't know.  The girl today, sixteen years old.  When I was
sixteen my biggest worry was my next physics test."
 
 "Physics?  I was still taking biology.  How did you manage
that?"
 
 Scully elbowed him in the chest.  "You're changing the
subject."
 
 "Your's is depressing.  Mine's more fun."  She elbowed him
again.  "Sorry," he replied.  Scully snuggled closer, and he thought he
heard a muffled sigh.  He wrapped his arm around her protectively.
"It's okay," he whispered in her ear.  She was holding back something,
he knew.  In her own time, she would tell him, and he knew this too.
She hated being depressed.
 
 "What kind of monster would do that to a child?" she asked,
squeezing her pillow just a little bit tighter.
 
 "I don't know.  I don't know.  Do you want me to do some
finagling?  I can find a good excuse to go to Philly for a few days.
And your mother has been dying to show off  her grandson to all her
friends."
 
 Scully shook her head; his show of humor wasn't going to
work tonight.  It was something she wanted to work out on her own.
He hated to have her feel this way about any case.  No matter how
much he did not want to see her go, he knew she wanted this case to
be solved, and true to her nature, she would cope with it any way she
knew how.
 
 "Take my car, okay, not some rental from the bureau car pool.
I'll move all the baby's stuff into yours tomorrow.  It's due for an oil
change anyway."  He knew she wouldn't argue with him on that point;
she hated the dreaded car pool about as much as he did.
 
 "Okay," she replied sleepily.  The tension was leaving her
shoulders; not totally, but enough to let her relax.  He was grateful;
insomnia was for days past.  It had taken him years to learn what a
decent night's sleep was like, and that hadn't happened until Dana
entered his life.  He was concerned about her, though.  She hadn't slept
well for well over a week, and with a wry smile, some of those
sleepless nights were his doing.  More than once he had awakened to
find the other side of the bed empty, its occupant sitting in the living
room or kitchen.  None of his remedies were working.
 
 He placed his hand on her stomach, gently tracing soft circles
there with his fingers.  She was falling asleep, finally, her breath
slowing into a slow, rhythmic pace that he used to lull himself to sleep
as well.  With one final look at the clock, he decided he would let her
sleep in if she didn't wake up on her own; he'd get the car ready, make
sure William was set for day care.  She needed the rest, and he
wouldn't take any argument about it in the morning.
 
 His last thought before dropping off was that it would be their
last night together for a while.  He snuggled closer, hoping she would
stay asleep throughout the rest of the night.
 

===========================================================================

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
From: trel@troi.cc.rochester.edu (Rory "Calhoun" Cottrell)
Subject: NEW: "Opposite Poles" 5/14
Date: Fri, 1 Mar 96 04:35:48 GMT
 

i think stupid sayings are much more fun than disclaimers, don't you think?
protect copralites; they're an endangered feces
 

 The highway was no longer crawling with the first bout of
rush hour traffic, for which Scully was truly grateful.  Not that she
minded driving, but Mulder usually did most of it when they were on
field assignments together.  And she missed his colorful terms of
endearment for bad drivers, muttered under his breath now that the
baby was born.
 
 It was funny.  Neither one of them had much use for foul
language, even before the baby was born, but more often than not,
'baby-correct' terms had been adopted for the more colorful four letter
words.  Even tastes in music changed with William around.  Audio
tapes of Burl Ives, Raffi, Sesame Street and Mother Goose rhymes had
more often than not replaced the assortment of rock and roll Mulder
had stashed in every open space in the car.  There was nothing wrong
with The Allmon Brothers, The Grateful Dead, or even the Simon and
Garfunkel tapes Mulder claimed were not his.  In fact, she had found
William rather liked Simon and Garfunkel.
 
 Thinking of music, she realized that she was losing the radio
station she was listening to as she cleared the DC area.  Her own tastes
tended toward anything non-grating to the ears and understandable
lyrics, and choices for radio stations were limited to those that kept
commercial breaks to a minimum.  Still, being alone in the car,
without Mulder along to play DJ, did have its good points: no channel
surfing.  He had the attention span of a flea when it came to switching
channels.
 
 She hit the preset channel buttons to see what he had
programmed; NPR, a classic rock station, the contemporary/soft rock
station, oldies, some alternative rock station.  They were all fuzzy and
static-filled.
 
 "Tape time," she announced aloud, rummaging around the
front seat for Mulder's stash of tapes.  There had to be something that
did not have sheep bah-ing in the background.
 
 Pink Floyd, no.  Rolling Stones, nah.  Sting, more Jackie's
style.
 
 She found one, unlabeled.  There was an empty case caught
under the arm rest.  All it said was 'MIX - June'.  Last summer.
Mulder had gone on a special recruiting assignment for Skinner last
June.  He must have made a tape for the car ride to Ohio, suspecting
that he wouldn't find any decent radio stations while he was away.
 
 Out of curiosity, she popped the tape in to the player.  <This
has to be interesting,> she thought to herself, adjusting the volume
when a loud burst of static blasted from the speakers.
 
 Twangs from a reedy banjo filtered through the car, and she
had to smile, remembering the significance around the Muppet song.
It had been just after William was born.  She was so tired, had hardly
slept a wink in nearly a week.  They were at her mother's house,
having missed Thanksgiving due to the early arrival of their little
bundle.  Turkey Day was postponed for the Scully clan, though dinner
was nearly non-existent for her, too tired to make it through the taped
parades, let alone dinner without a nap.
 
 But William was a welcome addition to a house already
bustling with grandmother and aunts and uncles and cousins and
adopted family members.  Despite all the constant attention, William
was only truly happy in his parents or grandmother's arms.  And he
had started crying in the middle of the night.  It wasn't feeding time,
he didn't need to be changed.  Mulder was so skittish about the whole
thing, it pained him to see his son crying without a ready remedy.  He
got out of bed, leaned over the side of the bassinet to see what all the
hub-bub was about.
 
 "Sing something," she had said, too tired to do it herself.
Mulder had a wonderful singing voice, one he rarely used.
 
 Mulder stood dumbfounded.  "My mind's gone blank.  I can't
think of any lullabies."
 
 "Anything, Mulder.  It doesn't matter.  He likes to hear your
voice."  <So do I,> she added silently.
 
 Then, after a few minutes, he started the only song that
popped into his sleep-deprived brain.  "The Rainbow Connection".  It
had worked, for a little while anyway.  Muppet songs still worked in a
pinch.
 
 Kermit's voice trailed off, and was replaced by mixed guitar
chords and strains of violins in the background.  This was nothing like
the music she expected on one of Mulder's mix tapes.  His tastes
usually went in the direction of the extremely strange, off the beaten
path songs that no one had ever heard of.  Though the voices sounded
familiar, she couldn't place the song.
 
 "each time you'd pull down the drive way,
I wasn't sure when I would see you again.
yours was a twisted, blind-sided highway,
no matter which road you took then.
oh, you set up your place in my heart,
moved in and made my thinking crowded.
now we're out in the back with the barking dog,
my heart the red sun,
your heart the moon clouded...
 
I could go crazy on a night like tonight
summer's beginning to give up her fight,
and every thought's a possibility
and voices are heard, but nothing is seen.
why do you spend this time with me?...
may be an equal mystery...
 
 <Mulder listens to this?> she wondered.  She listened
carefully to the lyrics, intent on figuring out what made this song so
special to deserve a place on one of Mulder's mix tapes.  It was quiet,
unimposing, and decidedly un-Mulder-ish.  Mulder preferred loud,
fast, foot-tapping, keep-you-awake-on-long-road-trips music, or at
least that's what she always thought.  Then again, she knew the Simon
and Garfunkel tape wasn't hers.
 
 Brow creased, she tried to find the hidden meaning in the
words, read between the lines.  Mulder never did anything without a
purpose, sometimes only known to him, but she had figured out a few
of his little secrets.  The fact that he could cook when given the
opportunity.  That he had a soft spot for kids, not only William, but for
all of her nieces and nephews.   After all, he was just like them, a kid
at heart.
 
so what is love then?
is it dictated, or chosen?
does it sing like the hymns of a thousand years,
or is it just pop emotion?
and if it was ever here and it left,
does it mean it was never true?
and to exist it must elude...
is that why I think these things of you?..
 
 She remembered the night he proposed, and how if he hadn't
spit out the words she was going to do it for him.  Jackie often kidded
that their engagement had started the day they met.  In a sense it was
true, they just didn't see it, and if they did, refused to believe it.  They
hadn't needed to say a word when they went to see Jackie and Marty
about their engagement.  Everyone else had seen it before they did.  It
took a separation order from Skinner for them to realize it.  Maybe the
lyrics were right.
 
...oh but you like the taste of danger,
it shines like sugar on your lips.
and you like to stand in the line of fire
just to show you can shoot straight from your hip.
there must be a thousand things you would die for,
I can hardly think of two.
but not everything is better spoken aloud,
not when I'm talking to you.
 
oh the pirate gets the ship
and the girl tonight brings a bottle to christen her,
basking in the exploits of her thief,
she's a very good listener.
and maybe that's all that we need
is to meet in the middle of impossibility
standing at opposite poles
equal partners in a mystery.
we're standing at opposite poles,
equal partners in a mystery."
 
 There was a lull in the tape as the song ended, followed by a
few notes of whatever was the next selection on the CD, or whatever
he dubbed the song from.  It was abruptly cut off with some Monty
Python song.  It was just like Mulder to go from a beautiful ballad to
some asinine, puerile ditty about bodily fluids.  Thankfully it wasn't
very long, and a more traditional, Mulder-like song began: 'Time
Warp'.
 
 But she did wonder about the ballad.  It was so unlike him,
though she always suspected he was a closet romantic.  She never
expected overt signs of affection from him, like flowers or balloons.
But things like cooking dinner, singing her father's lullaby to William
when he was upset and unable to sleep, finding the Dr. Suess book --
the unexpected little surprises, those were so like him.  Unpredictable.
And as she thought about it, and his closet romantic tendencies, hiding
the song on a tape that he had made for the first trip away from home
without her or the baby, on a tape that probably only he would listen
to, and might even deny having if ever confronted, with a smile on his
lips and a blush of embarrassment for being sentimental... left for her
first trip without the baby?
 
 And for a brief moment, she wondered if he had truly left the
tape on purpose.  Mulder was cleaning out the car of needed baby
things when she woke up that morning.  William, not surprisingly,
was waiting patiently in his crib to be changed when she went in to
check on him.  From the nursery window, she could see Mulder, still
dressed in the sweats he wore to bed, hauling out the baby seat and
hordes of toys from the back seat of his Taurus.  There was a lot to
carry, and she watched with great amusement as he tried to juggle all
the toys, closing and opening the car doors without dropping anything.
He must have gone through the front seat to get William's Mother
Goose tape.  They couldn't travel in the car without it.  Some children
had security blankets, William had his favorite tape.
 
 Mulder must have left it for her, knowing she would listen to
it on her way to Philadelphia.  Other than the Monty Python bit, and
'Time Warp' , everything else on the tape was music she listened to,
songs that had special meaning for the both of them.  The songs that
Jackie had them 'dedicate' to each other on those late night stake outs,
hoping to prime the pump of their relationship a bit.  So maybe six
years was a bit extreme, but not unreasonable.  They pulled off the
wedding in a week, they bought the house they wanted their children
to grow up in record time.  There may not have been anything physical
going on between them during those six years, but there had to be
some deeper, subtle understanding between them, else the same-day
proposal, the quick deposit on the house, and the gun-shot wedding
would have been a disaster.  Given the choice, she wouldn't want it
any other way.
 
 Before she knew it, she was in the city limits of Philadelphia.
The tape had run its course twice now, and each time she found
something new she loved about the choices they had made together.
 
 She had made good time, too.  Estimating that she would be
at the field office for at least an hour talking with the ASAC and the
agents assigned to the case, and figuring 3 hours for the autopsy itself,
the hardest part of the case would be over by mid-afternoon.
Normally, the autopsy part was the easiest for her, finding the subtle
clues that normal investigators might overlook because they were not
trained to see them.  She had a feeling that w