By bellefleur
bellefleur1013@yahoo.com
 

DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: sure
RATING: PG-13
CLASSIFICATION: S, A
KEYWORDS: MSR
DISCLAIMER: Not mine; they belong to CC, FOX, etc.
SUMMARY: A year after renewing their vows, Mulder and
Scully receive new information about their son's
disappearance, reuniting them with old enemies.

Beta thanks: To X-PhileChick#35 (a.k.a. UnderMySkinner) for
her hard work and kind words.

Notes: This is a sequel to "Hearts on the Mend," which I
posted sometime last fall.  You might be able to read this
without having read that one, but why would you want to? :)
You can find Hearts at Gossamer or my website (links
below), but I'm also including a synopsis here at the
bottom of the page for a quick refresher.

www.geocities.com/bellefleur1013/HeartsComplete.html
www.geocities.com/bellefleur1013/HeartsComplete.txt

Out of the Ashes is not a WIP.  I will be posting it by
chapter over the next week or so.

Now, on to the story....
 

********
Prologue
********

Letting the front door swing shut behind him, Mulder tried
his best not to slam it, but he was certainly in the mood
to slam something.  As he took off down the street at a
faster pace than his usual jog, the pounding of his feet
against the pavement yielded some satisfaction, although he
knew his knees would be complaining later.  His ears began
to sting as he ran head on into the brisk autumn breeze,
but he welcomed the distraction of the pain.

At times like this, Mulder found that the only way he could
cope was by getting out of the house, and going for a run
or shooting hoops at the park were the best alternatives to
his first inclination: numbing his frustration at the local
bar.  He and Scully had been remarried and living together
in her townhouse in San Francisco for almost a year now.
Although they had worked through many of their previous
problems, tensions still arose.  And because housing was at
a premium in this city, their current abode was the
tightest quarters they had lived in together since they had
shared Scully's apartment in Georgetown during the first
few months of her pregnancy.  In such a limited space, it
was hard to get away from each other when they fought.

Out of the corner of his eye, an abrupt movement to his
left caused Mulder to slow and turn.  It was twilight now
and the streetlights had just come on.  As he looked
around, there was no one in sight, and he shook off the
familiar feeling of paranoia that was once his constant
companion.  Their lives had been relatively quiet since
they had left the X-Files several years ago.  They no
longer meddled in the affairs of the Consortium (although
there was little to suggest that this organization still
existed after the holocaust at El Rico Air Force Base), and
the lack of interference was apparently mutual.

Settling back to his original pace, Mulder couldn't help
but rehash the latest argument that had driven him out of
the house.  It had dealt with their most sensitive subject:
children.  It was no wonder that this should be such a sore
point for them, considering that the demise of their first
marriage had precipitated from the fate of their only son.
One afternoon, William had gone missing from a park, in
broad daylight and under the watchful eye of his mother.
Scully still struggled with her guilt over not preventing
this, but Mulder had never held her responsible for
William's abduction and had tried his best to communicate
that to her.  When their son turned up dead at the hands of
the serial killer Henry Lee Vinton, the grief had torn
their marriage apart.  Much love and counseling had brought
healing to their relationship, but it could never fill that
empty place that remained in both of their hearts.

Since the move to San Francisco, things had been going so
well between them that neither of them had been willing to
breach this sensitive topic--until nature forced it on
them.  A few months back, Scully had missed her period, and
when secondary symptoms set in, their emotions had been
thrown into turmoil with the possibility that she was
pregnant again.  It had been difficult for them to talk
about, but it was evident that Mulder was much more excited
with this news than his wife.  But their burgeoning hope
had been in vain.  When Scully finally went to see her
doctor, she received the news that she was not with child
but peri-menopausal, and the hopes that had been welling up
in them were completely dashed.

After the passage of what he considered to be a reasonable
amount of time, Mulder brought up the issue of adoption.
He wasn't ready to give up on being a father, and he
dreamed of seeing Scully as a mother again.  The
psychologist in him also thought that maybe this would be
the final step in healing the open wounds that still
remained after William's death.  However, Scully wasn't
interested in discussing the option.  Not when he first
brought it up, and not today.  Although she hadn't said the
words directly, it was clear that she had no interest in
becoming a parent again.

Mulder knew he would do anything for this woman that he
loved so much, even if it meant never again having the
chance to be a father, but what he couldn't accept was her
refusal to even have a reasonable conversation on the
topic.  Of course, in her eyes she was being completely
reasonable; every contention was well articulated and she
never once raised her voice.  But he felt she was only
avoiding the real issues beneath the surface, and it
outraged him that she still held him at arm's length when
it came to her grief and pain.

To compound his current distress, Mulder's knees were now
screaming at him.  He had been pushing himself too hard,
and the adrenaline that had first shoved him out the door
was now entirely drained.  He had run only three-quarters
of his usual circuit around the neighborhood when he slowed
to a walk to give his aging joints a break.  To his
immediate left was a narrow alley that lay between two rows
of houses; he usually avoided this path in favor of a
longer run, but on days like this it provided a good
shortcut back to their street.

As he came within view of the streetlight directly across
from their house, Mulder could just make out the silhouette
of a man standing on the fringe of its pool of light.  The
paranoia he felt earlier mounted again, along with the
hairs on the back of his neck.  Slowing his steps to come
up behind the man undetected, he wished desperately that he
had thought to bring his gun with him.  Their neighborhood
was a safe one, and he had never needed the weapon before,
but sometimes old habits would get the best of him and he
would strap on his ankle holster before he left the house.
But not today.  He had been too distracted to even consider
it.

The twilight and shadows made it difficult to detect much
about the stranger besides his profile, but it was clear
that his face was turned in the direction of their house.
The man was watching, perhaps waiting for him to return
from his run, and clearly did not want to be seen.  As the
voyeur shifted suddenly, Mulder fell back further into the
shadows behind him.  But after a moment of stillness, it
was clear that the agent had not been spotted.  However,
the change in position had brought something else to
Mulder's attention--the holster at the man's hip.

Using the element of surprise to his advantage, Mulder
tackled the man from behind and pulled the weapon from his
holster before he had a chance to reach for it.  The
stranger's body hit the sidewalk hard as Mulder landed on
top of him.  Swiftly cocking the gun at his temple, he
growled into his ear, "You better have a damn good reason
for lurking outside of my house with a concealed weapon!"

As he was speaking, something out of place registered in
Mulder's head.  When he landed, he had grabbed one of the
man's arms and pinned it behind his back.  Only now did he
realize why this felt strange--the arm wasn't flesh and
blood; it was a prosthetic.

Violently flipping the man over on his back to face him and
pressing the gun back down to his forehead, Mulder found
confirmation of what his gut already knew.

It was Krycek.
 

*********
Chapter I
*********

Keeping Krycek in front of him and the gun lodged between
his shoulder blades, Mulder had his erstwhile partner and
nemesis unlock their door with his good hand, and then he
shoved him into the foyer.

"Scully!"

At first, there was no response.  He had bellowed loud
enough that he had no doubt she heard him, but when he left
the house they hadn't been on the best of terms.

"Scully, I need you in here!"

This time the stress was unmistakable in his voice, and
when his wife came bounding down the stairs a moment later,
it was with her gun in hand.  As she hit the last few
steps, she got her first glimpse of their visitor now
seated in the living room, and she slowly entered with a
look of confusion on her face.

Krycek turned to look at her as she approached, but Mulder
kept his gaze and his gun focused directly on the man
seated before him.  For the intensity of the agent's stare,
their unwelcome guest looked much more at ease than he
should have.

"Mulder?"  Scully asked her question with that one word.

"I found him lurking in the shadows across the street.  He
was armed.  Somehow I don't think he's here to pay a social
call."

Krycek sneered at him.  "Your hospitality leaves something
to be desired, Mulder.  And to think, I came all this way
to give you happy tidings."

Scully saw Mulder's finger twitch on the trigger and
decided that it was best not to let the situation get out
of hand.  Stepping toward him, she gently placed her hand
over his, and he allowed her to lower the gun.  Yielding it
to her grip as she took up his position standing next to
Krycek, he instead seated himself in the chair opposite the
man.

Although not raising her voice, Scully made no effort to
hide her hostility. "What do you want, Krycek?"

"I want to make a deal."

"A deal?"

"I have information that you want.  In exchange, I'd like
to call an armistice of sorts.  I want your guarantee that
you won't interfere with my plans."

Mulder scoffed.  "And why would we do that?  You think you
can bribe us?  No information you give us can erase your
past sins or shield you from justice."

"No?  Maybe you should find out what I have to say first."

Scully took a step back and sat in the vacant armchair
behind her.  "I'll give you thirty seconds to convince me
that your information's worth listening to.  After that,
you're out of my house."

A smug grin blossomed on Krycek's face.  "Oh, I don't need
that much time to persuade you to listen.  All I need is
five little words."  He paused for dramatic effect.  "Your
son is still alive."

Mulder suddenly felt very bereft of his weapon, while his
wife was immensely glad that she had removed it from his
possession.  He towered over Krycek now, grasping his lapel
to jerk his face toward his own as he bellowed down at him:
"What the hell kind of game are you playing, Krycek?!  How
dare you come into our home and toy with us like this!"

Scully didn't bother to call Mulder off this time, but she
continued to speak in a level voice.  "Our son was taken by
a serial killer.  His body was reduced to ashes in a fire.
We have the DNA evidence to prove that he's dead."

"Did you run the DNA tests yourself?"  Krycek was only able
to squeak out the words as Mulder's grip made it hard for
him to breath.  He looked toward Scully as he spoke, but
his words abated her husband's wrath as puzzlement and
curiosity settled in its place.

Scully's response was little more than a strained whisper.
"What do you mean?"

"You know as well as I do that DNA evidence can be faked.
If you didn't do the tests yourself, then how can you be so
sure of the results?"

As she looked toward Mulder, who looked back at her in
question, her voice had a pleading edge to it.  "The tests
were run by the FBI labs.  I even requested to have them
run twice.  They wouldn't let me anywhere near the evidence
because of my personal connection to the case."

Mulder's hands still held Krycek's jacket loosely as he
looked back down at the man.  "Are you saying that our son
wasn't in that fire?"

Taking advantage of Mulder's loosened grip, Krycek shook
himself free and settled back in his chair before he
replied.  "What I'm saying is that your son wasn't taken by
a serial killer."

"It was a cover-up?"  Scully's voice was strained as she
forced down the emotions that were threatening to boil to
the surface.  Moving away from Krycek now, Mulder did not
resume his seat but stood by her side and reached for her
hand.

"Didn't it seem a little convenient to you that a serial
killer who had eluded the police for over two years was so
easily caught within weeks of your son's disappearance?
And then he torched himself and the evidence before you got
a chance to interview him?  They handed you DNA evidence on
a platter, and suddenly everything was wrapped up in a neat
little package with no loose ends, all in less than a
month.  Just like they wanted."

"Are you saying, what happened to those other boys was just
a ruse to hide our son's abduction?"  Mulder couldn't bear
to consider this option, but he had to know the truth.

"No.  Henry Lee Vinton was exactly what he seemed to be--he
had already committed those other crimes.  But an old
friend of ours thought he would make the perfect patsy.  So
he helped to cover the killer's identity until your son was
taken, and then he set him up to take the fall.  Vinton
didn't kill himself.  He was executed, and his house was
rigged to burn long before the agents showed up with a
warrant."

Scully's voice was now laced with desperation.  "If our son
is still alive, then where is he?  And why was he taken?"

The smugness returned to Krycek's countenance.  "Ah, all in
good time, my dear Dana.  I think I've given you more than
enough reason to hear me out.  Now it's time to discuss the
terms of our bargain."

Mulder took a protective step forward.  "What do you want
from us, Krycek?  Isn't the agony over our son's loss
enough?  Now that you've added kidnapping and extortion to
your list, you want us to turn a blind eye?"

"I simply want to offer you what's yours in exchange for
what's mine."

"What is that?"

"The right of succession."

Mulder ran a hand through his hair in exasperation and
crossed the room to put more distance between himself and
the man that he really wanted to strangle right now.  "What
the hell are you talking about?"

"I'll give you one guess who took your son."

"The smoking bastard," Mulder spat out with all the
contempt he held for the man in question.

"I'm surprised he's still alive," Scully interjected.  "The
last time I saw him, he looked like he was dying."

"The last time you saw him, he was looking for a reason to
live.  You gave him one."  Krycek spoke this directly to
Scully, as though his words should have great import for
her.

Mulder's patience was wearing thin.  "Damn it, Krycek!
Quit talking in riddles!  Just say what you mean!"

But Scully's gaze did not waver from her interlocutor's as
his inference began to sink in.  "He was looking for a
legacy."  Mulder now turned to her in question, and she
shifted her focus to him while her mind continued to make
the connections.  "He was looking for an heir."

There were too many implications here that Mulder didn't
want to consider.  "Scully, what do you mean?"

She looked back to Krycek now, who turned to address
Mulder.  "You know about his 'familiarity' with your mother
before you were born.  Did you ever bother to ask her who
your real father was?"

With both fists and teeth clenched, Mulder gritted out his
response, "What are you saying?"

But Scully connected the final dots.  "He believes that
William is his grandson.  That's why he took him.  He
wanted an heir."  Sinking back into her chair, she shook
her head at the incredulousness of it all.

Mulder looked from her to Krycek, his skepticism inscribed
on his face.  He was still waiting to hear the rest of the
story.  "So what's your interest in all this?"

For the first time all evening, the Russian became
agitated.  "I want what he owes me," he spat in anger.
"That bastard led me on for years, making me believe that
if I was a good little lackey, I would stand in line to
inherit his position.  Even after he tried to kill me, and
then left me to die in that missile silo, I came crawling
back to him when he regained his power so that I would be
next in line.  Then I stood by and watched him offer that
power to his son, no questions asked, and even when Jeffrey
failed him, I remained obedient.  I did his dirty work.  I
put myself on the line.  I covered his mistakes and earned
the respect of the elders.  And all that was for nothing!
As soon as he saw another chance to pass the torch to his
own flesh and blood, he snatched it.  He left me to rot in
a prison camp in Tunisia to get me out of his way.  But I'm
back now, and I want what's mine."

Scully spoke quietly in counterpoint to Krycek's vehemence.
"And what do you want from us?"

"I want you to take him down, once and for all."  He then
turned to address Mulder.  "And I don't want you to stand
in my way when I take his place."

The picture was now complete.  The sycophantic servant who
had been double-crossed sought his revenge by betraying his
master's secret and watching that man's nemesis take him
down.  He wanted to claim the throne of a crumbling
kingdom, and none there coveted his prize.

From across the room, the spouses held a silent
conversation with their eyes.  When Scully lowered hers,
Mulder spoke their verdict.  "We need specific details
about where our son is being held so that we can verify
this information.  And we'll need time to consider your
offer."

At Krycek's nod, Scully handed him a pad of paper and a
pen.  He scribbled down a few words and then handed it back
to her.  Rising from his chair, he extended his good hand
toward her, palm upturned.  She retrieved his gun from the
table behind her and placed it in his hand, but not without
confiscating the clip first.  He snickered in appreciation
of this move and holstered the weapon before seeing himself
out.

The silence was deafening in his wake as the partners were
left alone to consider his words.  Scully's eyes were fixed
on the tablet in her hands as she finally asked, "Do you
believe him?"

Looking up now at her husband to await his response, the
turmoil in his eyes was all the answer she needed.

Crossing the room to her, he reached out his hand, and she
passed over the scrawling that Krycek had left behind.
After looking it over, he said, "I think it's time we
called some old friends."
 

**********
Chapter II
**********

The last few days since Krycek's visit had been rather
stressful around the cramped townhouse.  The couple's first
move had been to call the Lone Gunmen and ask them to run
down the information that Krycek had given them, but the
ensuing wait had been excruciating.  They were people of
action, and if their son was really alive and in the hands
of their enemy, the last thing they wanted to do was
refrain from intervention for even one more day.

On the evening of the fourth day, Scully abandoned the book
she wasn't really reading and went downstairs to find her
husband, who was flipping channels on the TV he wasn't
really watching.

"Have you heard anything yet?"

"I called a while ago, but all I got was the answering
machine.  Frohike said they'd call as soon as they had
anything definite."

"I know, but I didn't expect it to take them this--"

She was brought up short by a knock on the door.  With a
questioning glance at Mulder, who sat up from his reclined
position but merely responded to her query with his own
raised brows, she walked over to the door and cautiously
looked through the peephole.  What she saw there brought an
immediate response, as she yanked on the handle and
launched into her visitors before the door was fully open.

"We were expecting you guys to call.  Do you know how long
we've been sitting around waiting?"

Frohike didn't wait for an invitation before pushing past
her to enter the room.  "Well, hello to you, my dear.  And
yes, you're very welcome that we came all this way to give
you the news in person.  Now, would you like to offer me
something to drink?"

While Byers and Langly stepped through the open door much
more politely, Mulder came over and gave his audacious
buddy a warm hug.  "You're either very brave or very
stupid, my man.  You really shouldn't push your luck."

They both turned back to Scully to see her glaring at them,
her arms crossed over her chest.  Frohike moved to pull her
into a hug, which she deliberately evaded as she moved past
him to greet their other guests.

"Byers, Langly, make yourself at home.  Would you like
something to drink?"

Both stood there dumbly, not sure how best to respond, but
Mulder just chuckled quietly and then extended his hand
toward the living room to encourage them to have a seat.
He let Scully follow the three before he brought up the
rear, placing a comforting hand on her back as they entered
the room together.

When all were seated, Mulder addressed their visitors.
"Well, boys, you didn't come all this way just to tell us
you didn't find anything."

Byers took the lead while Langly pulled out a laptop and
opened it on the coffee table.  "As we suspected, both
William and Spender are living under aliases, so it took us
a while to track down the most likely candidates from the
limited information that Krycek provided.  But we think
we've located your son."

Langly turned the computer in their direction and picked up
the narrative while the partners leaned in to look at the
screen.  "This is the record we pulled up from a private
school in Cambridge, North Carolina.  The boy's name is
William Kuipers--"

Mulder's eyes shot up at the sound of his mother's maiden
name, bringing Langly up short.  Mulder turned to his wife
and muttered, "Interesting choice," before returning his
attention to the screen and gesturing for the speaker to
continue.

"His birthdate matches William's, and his parents are
listed as deceased."  Langly paused briefly and looked at
the two for further reaction, but they were quietly stewing
rather than surprised by this information.  "His legal
guardian is a Richard Johnson."

Mulder piped up again.  "That's a nice generic name."

Frohike now jumped in.  "We thought so, too.  As you can
imagine, we couldn't find much on him that didn't relate
directly to William's guardianship, but we did find an
address.  It's an estate outside of town."

While Mulder was engaged with Frohike, Scully had been
reading through the record on the computer screen.
Scrolling down to the bottom, she saw a link to the boy's
school photo, and a hand on Mulder's knee brought his
attention back to the computer.  Her eyes met his in
question, and he nodded.  As they both turned to the
screen, she clicked on the link.

Looking back at them from the screen was the face of a
sweet little boy with strawberry blond hair and hazel eyes.
The chubby baby fat they remembered was gone as the once
familiar face was now a little older and leaner.  Neither
could look away from his piercing gaze and toothy smile.

Scully felt Mulder grab on tightly to her hand that was
still on his knee.  The tears glistening in her eyes
blurred the image before her, and she leaned forward as
though to see him more clearly and reached out her free
hand to caress the screen.

Mulder cleared his throat to find his voice again and
looked back up at Frohike.  "What's that address?"  But a
tug at his hand caused him to turn his head before he heard
the reply.

"Mulder, I know that looks like him, but we have to verify
this before we can do anything.  We have to prove that it's
him."

It was times like this that he really resented Scully's
reasonable nature, but he was also grateful she was
thinking clearly.  He knew she was right; this was too
important to make a mistake.  He nodded his acquiescence
but added, "Either way, we're headed for North Carolina."

He turned back to Frohike again.  "We'll need that address
and a copy of these files."

But his friend threw his hands up to deter him.  "Not so
fast there, buddy.  We're going with you."

Scully was the one to voice their incredulity first.
"What?"

Byers replied, "That's why we came here in person.  This is
important to us, too, and we all agreed--we want to be
there to help bring William home."

Scully looked over at Mulder to see how he felt about this
development, and he just shrugged in response.  "You never
know, they might come in handy."

She glanced at each of her new partners in turn, seeing the
same hope in each of their eyes, and then she sighed.
"North Carolina, here we come."
 

***********
Chapter III
***********

"I'm not sure this was such a good idea.  Nothing against
Langly, but--"

"It's done, Scully.  Quit second-guessing it.  The rest of
us are too easy to recognize.  You dress Goldilocks up like
Byers, on the other hand, and not even his closest friends
would know him."

"But what about this woman they brought in?  Is she
trustworthy?"

"Honestly, I have no idea.  I've never met Yves before.
But you know how paranoid these guys are.  I have to trust
their judgment on this."

Scully dropped her protests, supplanted by a heavy sigh,
and turned her attention to the front window.  She was
seated in the driver's seat of a "delivery" van they had
requisitioned from the local field office, watching the
outside of the Brookfield Academy for any signs of trouble.
Mulder was seated to her right, and the back of the van--
separated from them by a divider--was occupied by two of
their cohorts, manning the equipment that kept them in
contact with their undercover team.

The scheme had so far progressed without complications,
which put Scully even more on edge, since things seldom
went smoothly for them.  The goal was to retrieve a sample
of William Kuiper's DNA for comparison against that of
their son.  The strategy was to send in a pair incognito,
posing as a dentist and his assistant, who would give the
first graders an important lesson on dental hygiene.  Once
inside, the objective was to identify William and obtain a
swab of his mouth through the guise of personalized
attention to each child's brushing technique.  The school
had been contacted and obligingly set up a time for the
visit, and now the team was in place and would hopefully
pull off the charade without a hitch.

Turning her attention away from the school, Scully looked
over at her husband.  He was gazing out the side window,
the constant bouncing of his knee a testimony to the
nervous energy he'd been exuding ever since their plane
landed.

As though he could sense her scrutiny, he spoke without
turning in her direction.

"What's the first thing you want to do when we bring him
home?"  At her protracted silence, he answered the question
for himself.  "I keep thinking about this, about all the
things we've missed that I want to make up for, and I can't
decide what I want to do first.  Take him to the park to
play catch?  Go to the zoo, or the science museum?  Or
maybe just sit at home and play Legos or lincoln logs?  Do
they even make those things anymore?  Lincoln logs?  It's
been so long since I've been in a toy store that I'm not
even sure what the latest fad is.  I'm sure he'll be quick
to tell us."

Mulder stopped rambling and looked over at his partner.
Her face was turned away from his, but he could see that
her profile was as impassive as ever.  This was her game
face, her special agent face, not the face of an anxious
mother.

"Scully?"

She didn't look at him but dropped her gaze to her hands in
her lap, so that her hair fell forward to partially obscure
her countenance.

"I'm sorry.  I guess I just haven't thought that far
ahead."

The nervous energy subsided as he spoke to her in a
softened tone.  "You're afraid to admit it's true, aren't
you?"

"I can't allow myself to hope yet.  I'm afraid of the
emotions it will unleash.  I need to have the proof before
I can let myself believe it."

"Scully."  Her name was an entreaty, and she dutifully
looked into his solemn eyes.  "It's him.  I can feel it.  I
know it in my heart.  This"--he gestured with his hand to
indicate their current situation--"is just a formality."

Rather than responding, she looked back toward the entrance
of the school.  Her own eyes were troubled, the only
indication of the turbulence that brewed beneath the
surface.

"I just can't help but wonder...."

Mulder remained quiet for a moment to let her continue, but
when she didn't, he prodded her.  "What?"

As her eyes turned back toward his, they glimmered with
unshed tears.  "What if we hadn't stopped looking?"

He sighed and reached over to take her hand, which she
yielded reluctantly.  "We can't think like that.  It won't
do us any good.  We had no reason to believe he was still
alive.  And you said it yourself--we didn't just accept
the results at face value but asked for the DNA to be run
a second time.  The only thing we're guilty of is being
duped and manipulated again.  We didn't abandon our son."

Scully's demeanor and lack of response showed that she
wasn't ready to assent to his reasoning.  In lieu of her
child, the guilt gave her something to cling to, something
almost tangible to cradle to her bosom and nurture as it
grew.  It was foreign to her that Mulder should be the one
so at peace while the guilt weighted her down, yet it
seemed only fitting that he should remain her polar
opposite in this as in all else.

A quick rap on the panel behind them drew their attention.
It was succeeded by Frohike's muffled voice through the
opening.  "They're on their way out.  Keep an eye out for
trouble."

Both agents went into professional mode and were
immediately on alert.  The dental duo soon passed through
the double doors and down the front stairs, walking at a
measured pace that betrayed both their desire for a hasty
retreat and their attempt at illusory nonchalance.  They
made it to the parking lot without incident and piled into
a rental car.

As the vehicle turned out of the lot and passed by them,
Scully waited for a beat to see if they were being tailed
before she started the engine and cautiously proceeded to
the rendezvous point.

* * *

After the team held a brief conference about their
operation, Scully rushed the swab off to a local lab to run
the tests herself.  It was a slow and tedious process,
punctuated by agonizing waits that were necessary for
accurate results.  Her patience and meticulousness finally
paid off, however, and she eagerly compared the data not
only to their son's DNA but also to her own and Mulder's
for confirmation.  Once she was sure of the verdict, all
that remained was for her to deliver the news to the
anxious group assembled back at the motel.

Scully turned the key in the door and opened it to the
following tableau: Mulder was sprawled on his stomach
facing the wrong way on the bed, watching a baseball game
on TV; Frohike and Langly were seated at the table opposite
each other with laptops open, as though playing Battleship;
Byers was perched primly on the edge of the second bed with
a political biography in hand; and all four faces turned
toward her simultaneously in expectation as she entered and
then quietly shut the door behind her.

There was only one thing to say.  "It's him."

Frohike and Langly high-fived each other across the table,
and Byers heaved a pleased sigh, while Mulder bounded off
the bed and had Scully within his embrace before she even
knew what hit her.  She had managed to remain stoic
throughout the testing and the drive back, but in the
security of his arms, she finally dropped the barriers in
exhaustion from having maintained them for so long.  She
held him fiercely as the silent tears flowed freely down
her cheeks.

Scully barely registered the excited chatter that had
sparked around them as the Gunmen began to lay plans for
their next step.

"...grab him from the playground during recess--"

"We can't just kidnap him, Langly.  They'll report it to
the cops and come looking for us.  We need a more reasoned
course of action."

"What we need is firepower.  We should storm the castle.
Take him right out from under Ol' Smokey's nose."

"And risk harming him?  That's hardly a reasonable option,
Frohike."

"Alright, wise guy, what 'reasonable course of action' do
you have in mind?"

"We should take this directly to the courts.  This man
certainly has no legal right to custody.  This is our
chance to expose him.  As soon as we prove William's true
identity, the courts will have to concede--"

"You know it would never get that far.  Smokey would be
long gone before it even went to trial, and he'd take
William right along with him.  Our only chance is to act
fast, before he's on to us.  We should go in tonight."

"It'll keep until tomorrow."  The three heads turned at the
sound of Mulder's voice, and for the first time they
noticed the private moment across the room.  Scully's head
was still buried in her husband's chest, and his arms
remained wrapped protectively around her.  "Let's reconvene
in the morning.  Then we can decide where to go from here."

Without further comment, the trio respectfully gathered
their belongings and exited the room in silence.  Only once
the door clicked shut behind them did Scully dare to reveal
her splotchy face and survey the damage to Mulder's shirt.
She absent-mindedly started rubbing at the dampened spots,
as though that would somehow dry them, while she spoke in a
weary voice.

"I'm not even sure why I'm crying--if I'm happy to have
found him, or sad for the time we've lost, or just feeling
sorry for myself.  I just--I feel like...like this is all a
dream.  And I don't want to wake up."

Mulder raised a hand to her face to brush away the
remaining tears while the other arm continued to hold her
firmly against him.  "It's not a dream, Scully, it's a
nightmare.  Just another one to add to the list.  And we're
going to end it.  We're going to end it and take back our
son, and we're going to drive the nightmares away."

She looked up at him with a childlike trust and innocence.
"How?"

His roving hand settled against her cheek as his determined
gaze fixed on her eyes.  "I don't know, but we'll find a
way.  We have to."

*********
Chapter V
*********

This was only their second day of "teamwork," but Scully
already understood why she preferred working with only one
partner.  An argument between two people was much simpler
than an argument between five.  And when four of them were
male and just loved to hear themselves spout their own
opinions....

"Enough!"

Silence reigned for the first time in an hour as four
stunned faces turned in her direction.  In that hour, they
had rehashed one idea after another about how to confiscate
William, and none had met with everyone's satisfaction.
Scully was tired, emotionally drained, and on the verge of
a migraine from the raised voices.  She was a woman not to
be crossed, and thankfully everyone in the room now
realized it.

Finally in control again, she rose and began to pace,
gently massaging her neck as she spoke.  "This is how it's
going to be.  Tomorrow afternoon, we let the nanny pick up
William from school as scheduled.  Two of you will pose as
police officers and be waiting on a secluded stretch of
road to pull her over for a traffic violation.  I'll give
you something to knock her out.  Once she's unconscious,
you'll bring both of them back to the motel.  William
should recognize you, so he'll know it's okay to go with
you.  After he's safely in our custody, you'll stay here
and watch him while Mulder and I return the nanny to the
house and collect William's things."

"How are we going to deal with Spender?"  Frohike was the
one to ask, but the same question was weighing on
everyone's minds.

"You let Mulder and me worry about that.  Now, I'm tired,
and we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, so I think we
should call it a night."

No one dared to voice a protest, so the threesome packed up
their notes and equipment, speaking only in hushed tones as
they made their exit.  Scully watched in amusement as they
tiptoed around her, as though she might explode at the
slightest noise.  It was amazing what power she could wield
when she wanted to, and she didn't feel the slightest bit
guilty for exploiting it as their party of five finally
dwindled to two.

Mulder followed their friends to the door and chained it
behind them before turning his attention to his wife.  She
was now slumped over on the end of the bed, still rubbing
the kinks out of her neck, so he dutifully took up position
behind her and replaced her hands with his own.

As Scully gladly melted into his touch, the only sounds now
filling the room were her occasional sighs and hums of
pleasure.  Only once she was much more relaxed did Mulder
pick up the conversation again.

"So, what *are* we going to do about Spender?"

Sighing, Scully dipped her head more to the right to give
him access to a knot in her left shoulder.  "Actually, I
was more concerned with what we're going to do about
Krycek.  I'm surprised we haven't heard from him yet.  It
makes me worried that he's just setting us up, and I'm not
sure what to do about that."

The hands on her shoulders slowed, and there was no
response from behind her.  Scully immediately knew
something was up and turned her head to look back.

"Mulder?"  He still didn't answer right away but tried to
resume the backrub, so she pulled away from him and turned
around completely.  "Is there something you'd like to share
with me?"

It was Mulder's turn to sigh as he pushed up off the bed
and followed her earlier course around the room.  After
only one and a half circuits he ran his fingers through his
hair and pulled up short to face her.

"I ran into Krycek today."

"And?"

Mulder moved to the bureau opposite her and leaned his
weight against it.  "And, he wanted me to agree to his
terms or he would tell Spender that we're on to him."

"And what were those terms?"  From the flatness of Scully's
voice, it was apparent to both of them that she didn't
expect to like what she heard.

"After we have William, he wants us to confront Spender.
He wants him to know that we've taken our son back, that
his plan has failed.  And then, he wants him taken out."

"Krycek wants you to kill Spender?"

Mulder only nodded slightly, his eyes averted.

"And you've already agreed to this?"

He didn't nod this time but only raised his gaze to hers.

"How do you feel about that?"  Her voice was gentle now and
full of nothing but compassion.

Mulder looked down again and shrugged, trying his best to
maintain an air of apathy, for both their sakes.  "There's
no question that the man deserves to die for everything
he's done.  I've held a gun to his head before."

"But you didn't pull the trigger."

When Mulder answered, his voice had grown rough with
emotion.  "If I had, none of this would've ever happened."

* * *

In the familiar ebb and flow of their relationship, now
that Mulder's guilt was waxing again, Scully felt hers
waning.  They agreed to leave their planning for the
morning and fell into bed emotionally exhausted.  In need
of each other's touch to ground them as they prepared for
such a momentous day, the pair soothed each other into
sleep with reassuring whispers and loving caresses.

Just after midnight, the silence of the room was pierced by
the shrill ring of a cell phone.  Without hesitation,
Scully quickly extracted herself from Mulder's arms and was
able to grab the offending object from the table and
silence it in the middle of the second ring.  She had
obviously been trying to keep it from waking Mulder, but to
no avail.  He sleepily rolled over and buried his head in
the pillow she had just abandoned as he heard her answer.

"Hello?...Yeah, hi.  Thanks for calling me back....No, it's
no problem...."

Mulder's mind was now alert as he tried to figure out who
would be calling her, and he rolled over to realize that
she had taken the phone into the bathroom and closed the
door.  He could still hear the muted murmur of her voice
but could no longer make out distinct words.

When he felt the mattress dip next to him, Mulder opened
his eyes and realized that he must have been dozing.  A
glance at the clock confirmed that it had been almost
twenty minutes since Scully had first answered the phone.

"Who was that?"

"Don't worry about it.  Go back to sleep."

Now she had his attention.  He looked over at her, where
she had settled on her side facing him, but with her eyes
closed.  "You were obviously expecting a call.  Who was
it?"

Scully rolled over and answered him over her shoulder in an
exasperated tone.  "Mulder, can we just talk about it in
the morning?"

He propped himself up on one elbow to face her.  "No, I
want to talk about it now.  You obviously don't want to
tell me or you wouldn't be making such a big deal out of
it."

After a pause, she turned over onto her back and finally
looked at him in the dim lighting.  "It was Roger, okay?  I
left a message for him earlier, and he was just returning
my call."

Mulder's voice was now full of hostility--or more
precisely, alpha male territoriality--at the mention of the
name, as Scully knew it would be.  "What about?"

Scully closed her eyes in frustration.  She had only gone
out on one date with Roger during the time she had been
divorced from Mulder, but her continued friendship with the
man remained a sore spot.  Keeping her voice as
conciliatory as possible, she answered: "The man is a child
psychologist.  I was simply asking his advice on how to
handle what is bound to be a traumatic situation for our
son."

"Your *husband* happens to be trained in psychology, too.
I think I can take care of my own son without Roger's
intervention."

Opening her eyes, she graced him with an eye roll.
"Mulder, you're being ridiculous about this.  I don't know
how many times I have to tell you that Roger is not a
threat to you.  Besides, knowing a child psychologist will
prove to be incredibly beneficial when we get home.  You
and I certainly needed plenty of counseling to get through
this.  You can't expect that William won't, too.  Roger's
already agreed to see him once we get back--"

"No."

"Mulder--"

"No, not Roger.  I agree that he may need to talk to
someone, but it has to be somebody else."

"Fine."  Scully rolled away from him again and settled into
her pillow.  She was by no means done with this
conversation, but it could wait until they got home.

For a long moment, there was no movement, and then she
finally felt Mulder drop back down to the mattress.  She
had almost drifted off to sleep when an arm wrapped around
her waist and a warm body settled in behind her back.  She
knew it was the closest thing she would get to an apology,
and she had learned to accept even such limited gestures.
Threading her fingers through his, she pulled their linked
hands close to her heart and let the rhythm of his breath
lull her into a dreamless slumber.
 

**********
Chapter VI
**********

Once again, the two agents were reduced to waiting, and it
was driving them nuts.  Since they had decided that it was
too risky to reveal their presence too soon, and might be
too confusing for William, they were resigned to depending
on their cohorts to pull off the "abduction" (as Scully
insisted on calling it--concerned that it might be reported
as such if the nanny was not properly anesthetized--
although the rest of them preferred the term "rescue
operation").

The morning had been spent gathering the resources
necessary to carry out their ruse.  Their badges allowed
them certain liberties in acquiring the proper disguises
for an undercover operation, although they had to fudge a
little on the paperwork.  They only hoped that if anyone
followed up and called Skinner--whom they had listed as
their S.A.C. for this operation--he would be gracious
enough to cover for them.  They could explain themselves to
him later.

If all was currently going according to plan, Byers and
Frohike were dressed as cops and waiting in an unmarked car
to pull over William's nanny on the way back to the estate.
Langly's job was to park at a distance where he could watch
and then serve as backup if anything went wrong.

The most difficult and unpredictable variable, however, was
William himself.  There was no way to take the boy without
him somehow being traumatized by the situation.  Mulder and
Scully just hoped that he would recognize Byers and
Frohike, whom he had known by name (or at least, in his
childish locution, as "Byes" and "Froggie").  If these two
could earn his trust, then perhaps the transition might go
a little more smoothly.

But it didn't make the wait any less excruciating.  After
some terse words from Scully, Mulder had abandoned his
incessant channel-flipping for a similar assault of the
mouse as he ostensibly played solitaire on the laptop.  And
after an equally terse retort from Mulder, Scully had
abandoned her incessant pacing for a deliberately
motionless pose on the bed as she switched on a news
channel and then tossed the remote away from her reach.

When he finally looked up from the computer screen and
glanced over at his wife, Mulder's frustration gave way to
compassion.  Scully's knees were drawn up close to her
chest, held there by hands clasped so tightly that her
knuckles were turning white, while her eyes stared unseeing
at the television set.  She looked as tense as he felt, and
he realized that once again they were working against each
other when all they wanted in the end was the same thing.

Shutting the computer, he positioned himself on the bed
behind her and gently pulled her back into his embrace.  At
first she resisted a little, but then he felt the tension
begin to drain away as she yielded and let her body melt
back into his.  When he saw her eyes close, he reached over
to grab the remote and silenced the final distraction in
the room.

He spoke quietly into her ear.  "I have complete faith that
the guys can pull this off.  If something had gone wrong,
Langly would've called us by now."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

Stretching his head around, Mulder looked her in the face.
"What, then?"

Scully sighed, her eyes remaining closed.  "William."

Mulder understood what she meant, but he waited for her to
elaborate.

Opening her eyes now, Scully continued to face forward.
"We're ripping him away from the world that he knows, and
as much as I want him back, I can't help but wonder if
we're doing the right thing.  What if he doesn't want to go
home with us?  What if he thinks that we abandoned him and
that we don't love him anymore?  It's hard enough for me to
understand what's happened here, so I can't even imagine
how difficult it will be for him."

"Kids are often better at adapting to changes than adults
are.  If he's been told that we're dead, he might have some
difficulty accepting that we're real, and that we're here
to stay, but I don't think he'll doubt our love for him."

Scully turned in his arms now to look plaintively at him.
"But what if he doesn't want to go with us, Mulder?  Are we
going to force him?  Is that really the best thing for
William?"

"In the long run, yes.  I don't think that Spender would
physically harm him, but we both know that in time he would
poison his mind.  And it would be just as reprehensible to
allow our son to be raised in that environment as to leave
him with a child abuser."

Closing her eyes against this truth, Scully resignedly
slumped back into his embrace.  "I know, and that's not
what I want.  But we might have to at least consider
bringing the nanny with us.  She's his primary caregiver
right now, and she may be the only one that he'll really
trust."

The words rung far too true and painful as they lingered
between them in the stale air of the motel room.  Trust was
as vital to them as breathing, and the thought that they
may have lost the trust of their own son because of the
lies of the enemy pierced them to the core.

Silence reigned as each became lost in thought, but their
previous anxiety had been replaced with the temporary peace
of one another's embrace.  They knew it was but the eye in
their storm, but it was this stillness that enabled them to
reestablish their bearings before the next onslaught.  They
had needed such peace so badly after the disappearance of
their son, but it cost them much time and effort to
actually find it.

The silence was broken by an abrupt knock on the door.  The
partners both tensed in anticipation, but neither moved
just yet.

"It's Frohike.  Anybody home?"

Their inaction was finally over as the two scrambled for
the door.  Mulder reached the knob first and wasted no time
in turning it.  Eagerly anticipating their son, the pair
was surprised to find themselves staring back at Frohike
alone.  Before they could start asking questions, however,
a movement behind him caught their attention.

Without a word, Frohike, looking very unnatural still clad
in the blue police uniform, looked down to his side as he
gently pulled forward the young boy clinging to his hand.
It was the first time that the two parents had seen him in
person since the day he disappeared, but the moment they
laid eyes on him, they had no doubts that he was their son.

Scully immediately dropped to her knees, bringing her down
to the boy's height, and extended her arms toward him.
Through eyes blurred with tears, she watched as he drew
back from her and nestled closer to Frohike's side.  She
tried her best to hide her disappointment and remain
understanding as to how disarming this must be for him, but
his reaction still hurt her deeply.  The comforting hand
behind her, now stroking her hair, was able to soothe that
hurt only slightly.

None of the adults spoke yet, waiting, rather, to see if
William's shyness would abate.  After a long moment of
watching the couple in the doorway while continuing to
shield himself behind his protector, he looked up to
Frohike and broke the silence.

"Is this heaven?"

Taken aback by the question, it took Frohike a moment to
respond.  "No, Will.  What makes you think that?"

"Grandpa said Mommy and Daddy are in heaven."

Scully could no longer contain her silent tears as the
knife within her twisted deeper.  But as Frohike looked at
the two, unsure how to answer the boy, she was the one who
spoke.

"No, William.  But for a long time, your daddy and I
thought you were in heaven, and we missed you very much.
As soon as we found out you were here, we came for you
right away."

As the child processed this quietly, the other three
watched and waited.  When it seemed he had finally accepted
the truth of this, he started to pull away from Frohike and
moved toward his mother.

"Mommy?"

Wasting no more time, Scully reached for him and pulled him
into her embrace.  No longer hesitant, he willingly came to
her and threw his small arms around her neck.  She spoke
soothingly into his ear as she held him tight with one arm
and gently stroked his head with the other.

"Yes, William, we're here now.  It's okay.  Everything will
be okay."

Thus far, Mulder had been restraining himself, knowing how
important it was for Scully to make this initial connection
with her son.  Now, though, he could no longer hold back.
Dropping to his knees alongside them, he wrapped his family
into his tight embrace.  His paternal instinct taking over,
he joined in chorus with Scully's crooning to the boy.

"We love you so much, Will.  We've missed you so much."

Frohike knew there was important work left to be done, but
he also understood that these three needed some time
together first.  Feeling like an intruder on the private
moment, he quietly walked away and returned to where he had
left his two buddies guarding the unconscious nanny.  He
knew that Mulder and Scully would know where to find them
when they were ready to move forward with the plan.
 

***********
Chapter VII
***********

Mulder was leaning against the car chatting with Byers when
Scully finally appeared.  She had left Frohike and Langly
in the room; the trio would now stand watch over the boy so
that his parents could head for the "Johnson" estate and
finally bring this matter to its conclusion.

As Scully approached, Mulder couldn't help but take note of
her body language.  The woman he left behind in the motel
room was an emotional mother; the woman who strode toward
him now was a special agent who meant business.  She wasted
no time in putting things in motion as soon as she was
within earshot.

"Is the nanny in the car?"

Pushing away from the vehicle, Mulder took a step forward
to meet her.  "Yeah, we moved her to our backseat, but I'm
not sure how much longer she's going to be out.  We may
need to give her another shot."

"No, I don't want to compromise her health by administering
a third dose.  Besides, I want to get this over with as
soon as possible.  I intend to be back here in time to tuck
William into bed."  Her attention now shifted to Byers as
she continued with her agenda.  "I'm holding you personally
responsible for whatever is playing on the television in
front of my son.  If the other two insist on watching
something inappropriate, they can do it in their own room."

Byers meekly nodded in reply, looking like a chastened
child.  He didn't venture to speak because it was clear
that Scully was pausing only long enough to receive an
affirmative response.

"Langly was ordering pizza when I left, so dinner should be
here soon.  Try not to give William too much soda.  And we
would appreciate you guys leaving us a few slices since we
haven't eaten yet."  Her business with Byers concluded,
Scully turned again to Mulder.  "Let's get this show on the
road."

Wisely complying without hesitation, Mulder held the keys
out to her.  She gratefully took possession and opened the
driver's door as Byers moved out of the way and slowly
backed toward the motel.  The outcome for the remainder of
the evening was far less certain than what had been
successfully attempted that afternoon, but the two agents
did not let that dissuade them from their task.  Whatever
fate awaited them at the estate, they would face gladly.
It was time to avenge the wrongs inflicted upon their
family.

* * *

On the way to the estate, the partners stopped by the
service road where the Gunmen had hidden the nanny's car,
which Mulder commandeered and then led their two-car
caravan toward the secluded property.  Upon their arrival,
they found the place to be just as quiet and lifeless as
the day before when he had reconnoitered it.  Parking in
the circular drive directly in front of the house, the two
disembarked simultaneously and shared an uneasy look.
There was something far too menacing about the silence, as
though its very intent was to foster a false sense of
security.

While Mulder stood watch, one hand resting on his holster,
Scully took the nanny's keys and tried a couple on the
front door until the lock finally yielded and the large,
oaken door swung open.  No alarms sounded.  No guards or
Dobermans came rushing toward the intruders.  The eerie
quiet still reigned.

Since their passenger remained slumped over in the back
seat, the two agents made a quick inspection of the
entryway, looking for signs that their presence was
detected or that they had walked into a trap.  They found
none.  Although still on her guard, Scully was quickly
beginning to weary of this place, desiring to return to her
son without further delay.  She broke the silence first.

"Why don't you go get the nanny.  I'll find the bedrooms."

Although the house was considerably smaller than some of
the plantation homes that dotted the county, the vaulted
ceilings and majestic stairwell made it feel more spacious
than it indeed was.  The first floor was impeccable and
decorated with expensive antiques, including many ante-
bellum pieces, and showed no signs that a child lived
there.  Mounting the wide, carpeted staircase, however,
Scully finally discovered the living quarters, along with
clues to the life that her son had been leading since he
was ripped from her care.

The first door on the right had a clearly feminine touch,
and a few framed portraits on the dresser testified that
this was the room where their child's caregiver slept.
Upon this discovery, Scully returned to the top of the
stairs, waiting for Mulder to reappear through the front
door with their charge slumped over his shoulder.  When she
caught his eye, she gestured toward the bedroom in question
and then returned to her investigation.

Across the hall from the nanny's room, she discovered a
large bedroom, nearly twice the size of the other, that was
clearly a child's domain.  Along one wall stood two large
bookcases, stacked with colorful books and toys.  Next to
them rested a large plastic crate overflowing with stuffed
animals.  In the corner was an easel, bearing a dry erase
board sporting childish scrawl.  The far wall was occupied
mainly by a closet with double sliding doors, one of them
currently standing open to reveal a selection of neatly
pressed school uniforms, a colorful array of play clothes,
and the edges of more toys protruding from the half still
hidden from view.  The walls were illustrated with a Peter
Pan theme, and the large bed that dominated the side of the
room closest to the door matched perfectly with the hues
and characters of the decor.

It was a child's playground, no expense spared--but well
contained within the confines of this room.

At first immobilized as she took in the grandeur of the
setting, Scully was spurred into action when her eyes fell
upon the framed school photo of a sweet little strawberry-
blond boy.  She could not preserve for him all the
treasures of this room, nor would she want to.  But she
could at least gather up enough of his belongings to help
make the transition a little easier.  Swiftly digging
through the closet, she unearthed a suitcase, which she
started to fill haphazardly with her son's clothes.  Before
long, she sensed Mulder's presence behind her in the
doorway, stopping to take in the surroundings just as she
had.  She addressed him without pausing or turning around.

"Can you come finish this for me?  I want to pack up a few
of his toys."

Mulder crossed the room to her and silently took over her
task, so Scully was freed to turn to the other project on
her mind.  After briefly considering her options, she
decided to empty the plastic crate and fill it with an
assortment of toys and books that looked the most used and
loved.  She made a quick circuit of the room, pausing every
now and then to consider a book with worn edges, a ragged
teddy bear that sat atop the neatly-made bed.  Within
moments, such treasures had filled the crate.  The journey
around the room brought her finally to the framed school
picture, which she carefully caressed for a moment before
gently securing it between two stuffed animals, and then
she turned to face her partner.

"Muld--"

But she was brought up short by the sound that they both
noticed simultaneously: the jingle of keys opening the
front door.
 

************
Chapter VIII
************

The partners froze in place, reading each other's eyes, as
they listened to the noises below.  The jingle of keys.  A
door creaking open and then closed.  Footsteps in the hall.
A voice calling up the stairs.

"Kristiana?"

There was no mistaking that voice.  They had both heard it
too many times, in too many unwelcome situations.  It was
time to silence that voice.

Moving as one, the pair silently unsheathed their weapons
and moved toward the doorway.  The muffled noises below
were no longer coming from the hall, so the two dared to
move toward the staircase.  After one quick peek around the
corner, Mulder determined that the way was clear, and they
gently worked their way down the carpeted stairs.

Once at the bottom, it wasn't difficult to locate their
prey--they only had to follow their noses.  The lingering
trail of cigarette smoke led them to the library, just off
the front hallway.  They silently took their stand on
either side of the wide entryway, guns trained on the man
who stood across the room with his back to them, his
attention focused on some pages that lay on the desk in
front of him.

"Hands up where I can see them, and turn around slowly."

Was that a flinch of surprise at the sound of Mulder's
voice?

The old man let a page flutter from his hand, and he slowly
turned to face them.  His hands were not held high in the
air, but he did keep them slightly out to his sides.  As
the two finally got a glimpse of his face, they could see
it was a ghostly shade of white.

But the man quickly regained his composure, taking another
long drag from his cigarette before leaning over to the ash
tray next to him and snuffing it out.  As his initial look
of surprise was replaced with his usual smugness, both
agents came to realize that his pasty coloring had nothing
to do with his reaction to them.

It had been over seven years since they had last laid eyes
on their nemesis, and Scully remembered how sickly he had
looked back then.  Krycek had implied that the very
technology Spender had offered to her on that trip, he had
hence used to save himself from the illness that beset him.
Even so, the years had apparently not been kind to him.
His countenance was withered and drawn, the pallor
accentuated by the tufts of white that framed his face.  If
it were possible, it seemed that he been infused with the
coloring of the very smoke that he breathed like oxygen.

Already in need of his next fix, he removed another
cigarette from the open pack on the desk and lit up.  The
flare of light on his face only highlighted the deep lines,
and at the sight, Mulder felt his vigilance wither.  The
man that stood before him no longer seemed the pillar of
power and control but a weak, pitiful man, crumbling into a
pile of ashes.

After another long drag from his cancer stick, Spender
broke the stifling silence.

"Agent Mulder, how nice to see you again.  It's been a long
time."

Hearing that voice once more dispelled any pity that Mulder
had been feeling and recalled years of bitterness and pain.

"Only because you stole what didn't belong to you and went
into hiding, you sick bastard.  But it's over now.  We're
here to take William home with us, where he belongs."

"Are you sure that's such a good idea, Fox?  Just look at
this place.  Look at what I have to offer him.  I can
provide for him everything he'll ever want or need.  Do you
really think the boy is better off with his alcoholic
father?"

Mulder was seething and advanced slightly, not bothering to
control his rage or his volume.  "We can give William the
one thing you can't--love!  What that boy needs is his
family!"

In contrast to these impassioned words, Spender remained
quietly arrogant.  "But I *am* his family, Fox.  Surely you
must realize that by now.  He's my flesh and blood, just
like you are."

"Flesh and blood don't make a family.  Love does.  And you
took that away from me, too, when you stole my sister.  I
know what it's like to grow up without the love of a
father, and I won't let you do that to my son.  No amount
of money or gifts can make up for that loss."

Scully quietly closed the gap between her and Mulder, still
standing slightly behind him as though to continue watching
his back.  She placed a soothing hand on his arm as she
heard him fight back the emotions in his voice.  His pain
was so tangible that she could feel it radiating from him
in waves, but she knew he was determined not to let the
tears escape while in front of his enemy.

As Mulder sensed her hand, he drew the strength from her
that he needed and took a deep breath to compose himself.

They were both surprised when Spender's response was not
gloating but resignation.

"Ah, well, I suppose it's for the best that you're here
now.  I'm not sure how much longer I'll be around to look
after him."

Never one to mince words, Scully shot through his ambiguity
straight to the heart of the matter.  "Are you dying?"

He took another drag before responding.  "The doctors say
it's only a matter of weeks."

"What about the chip?  I thought you used it to cure
yourself."

"Oh, I did.  But the cure came with a price, you see.  The
technology could heal the damage to my brain and my lungs,
but it couldn't erase the addiction.  And the cure could
only be sustained by eliminating the cause.  However, a man
cannot abandon his oldest companion."  He held up the
cigarette nestled between his fingers and smiled at it with
nostalgia and fondness.  "Controlling the future isn't all
it's cracked up to be.  It's a lonely existence, Dana, and
it is a man's closest friend who is the one destined to
betray him."

His eyes left the smoldering stick and focused on her, the
same fond smile now aimed in her direction.  "I still have
the technology.  If you were to join me, Dana, I would no
longer be lonely.  I could still live a long, healthy life
if I chose.  And you could become the greatest healer the
world has ever known."

Scully's hand on Mulder's arm clenched tighter as she
responded: "You can go to hell for all I care, you son of a
bitch.  All I want is my son."   She took a deep breath and
then turned her head to address her husband.  "Let's get
this over with."

Mulder's arm raised again, gun trained strong and steady on
the man across the room.  Spender, to his credit, did not
flinch or pale.  He merely continued to puff away.

Staring down the barrel of the gun, Mulder flexed his
finger on the trigger.  But something within him stopped
him from completing the action, and he let his arm fall to
his side again as he reengaged the safety.

Although his words were directed to Scully, his eyes did
not stray from Spender.  "Leave him to the cancer.  I want
him to die a slow and painful death, utterly alone.
Killing him now would be too merciful."

As Mulder took one step back, intending to turn and exit, a
shot rang out.  Spender's face crumpled in surprise while
bright red liquid began to blossom from his chest.  At
first, Mulder assumed the shot had come from Scully, and he
looked back at her, only to find her weapon down and her
eyes focused somewhere beyond him.  He turned and followed
her gaze, recognizing then what she already knew.

In the far corner of the room was another doorway that they
had not bothered to cover, the one leading to the kitchen.
And standing in that doorway now was Alex Krycek, his gun
and sight focused on the dying man.

Krycek approached slowly, coming to stand right in front of
the Cancer Man to be sure that he got a good look at the
face behind the trigger.

"Give the Devil my regards."  The bitter words were
followed by another shot, this one straight between the
eyes, and the target collapsed to the floor in a lifeless
heap.

Pausing to snuff out the smoldering stub that had fallen to
the floor, Krycek then turned to address his enraptured
audience, who stood watching the scene with fascinated
disdain.  "It was a noble thought, Mulder, but I guess I'm
not as patient as you."

Taking these words as a conclusion to their business,
Mulder holstered his weapon and turned to Scully.  "I'd
better go check on the nanny.  She must be awake by now."

But Krycek spoke before she could respond.  "Don't bother.
I've already liquidated her."

"Damn it, Krycek!  Killing innocent people wasn't part of
the deal!"

The Russian snorted in derision.  "Innocent?  Are you
really that naive, Mulder?  You should know by now there
aren't any innocent players in this game.  Who do you think
took your son from that park?  It wasn't a couple of goons
dressed in trenchcoats.  It had to be someone that wouldn't
look suspicious hanging around a playground.  You should
thank me.  Now everyone involved in your son's kidnapping
is dead."

Mulder's jaw visibly clenched as he stewed over this news.
They were FBI agents, trained to take their revenge in the
courts, not with their own hands.  Once again, the only
justice they could take solace in was an eye for an eye,
not a public conviction.

Feeling his partner's hand settle on his arm again, he
relinquished his angry focus on Krycek to turn and meet her
gaze.  He saw there the same determined look that he had
seen so often in the past, reminding him that while it was
time to concede this round, the battle was far from
forfeit.

Her voice was gentle yet decisive as she spoke.

"Let's go home."
 

********
Epilogue
********

Startled by the finger that swiped at the corner of her mouth,
Scully looked over at her husband to catch his amused
expression.

"Ketchup."  He held up his finger to show her the evidence
before popping the digit in his mouth and licking it clean,
removing it a little more slowly than necessary since her eyes
seemed to be riveted to his mouth.  As his lips curved up into a
smug grin at her fixation, Scully graced him with an eye roll
and then went back to eating her hotdog.

Normally, the health-conscious physician wouldn't go near such a
sinful thing--nor would she let her family--but Mulder had
insisted that it was all part of the experience, so she made an
exception.  ("It's not a day at the ballpark without hotdogs and
peanuts, Scully.")  Truthfully, though, it had been not his
reasoning but his enthusiasm that had won her over.  The
threesome was finally going to a baseball game together, and
Mulder had been bouncing off the walls all week in anticipation.

Licking the last remnants of the greasy snack from her fingers,
Scully set her garbage beneath her seat and then affectionately
leaned into Mulder's arm.  He dutifully took the hint and draped
his arm around her shoulders, looking down to grace her with a
warm smile, accompanied by a gentle squeeze, before returning
his attention to the field below.

But it wasn't the game that held her attention.  As she snuggled
closer into her husband's embrace and rested her head against
his chest, Scully looked beyond him to the boy that was seated
on his other side and under the protective care of his other
arm.  In profile, he looked so much like his father, especially
now, donned as they were in matching caps and jerseys.  Yankees,
of course--even though they were at the White Sox' home field.
Yet another detail that Mulder had insisted on, despite his
wife's protests.  She mused that probably the only reason they
weren't getting lynched by opposing fans right now was that the
Yankees were currently behind by three runs.

Watching her son watch the game, Scully couldn't believe how
much had changed over the past eight months.  One day, they were
still mourning their son's death, and then the next, he was
alive and returning with them to San Francisco.

As much as this seemed to be a dream come true, the transition
was by no means an easy one.  Each day brought new conflicts and
challenges.  It hadn't taken long to realize that the tight
space of their townhouse was too cramped for the three of them.
But more than that, there was something about the setting that
was all wrong.  San Francisco was the place to which Scully had
escaped when their family fell apart; it had never been a place
that belonged to the three of them together.  So they had
decided to set out for unknown territory and make a fresh start.

Fate, in the form of Scully's job, chose the location for them.
She asked for a transfer, and the Chicago field office needed a
pathologist.  Mulder, on the other hand, found himself once more
being offered a dead-end position as a concession to his wife's
career.  It seemed the FBI had little use for him anymore, so he
had decided to call it quits.  Still a legendary profiler,
however, he was occasionally called in by the Bureau for a
consultation, and he obliged.  But it was clear that he had no
regrets about walking away from the daily grind.

Never one to sit still for long, though, Mulder had designated
his newest challenge to be a doctorate in Psychology.  He had
already been accepted into the University of Chicago, and after
spending some quality time with his son over the summer, he
would start as a full-time student in the fall.

And so, after celebrating William's seventh birthday in
December, the family had packed up and moved to Chicago--
although, more than once they regretted not waiting until the
summer to do it.  But Scully was willing to endure any number of
Chicago winters in order to have a precious moment like this one
with her son.

The crowd around them started to buzz with tension and
anticipation as the bases were loaded and a big hitter stepped
up to the plate.  But Scully never once looked down at the
field.  She could read every play through the expressions on her
son's face.  His eyes were glued to the diamond below, but his
hands never ceased their motion as he absent-mindedly shelled
peanuts and popped them into his mouth one by one.  Replace
those nuts with seeds, she considered, and he was the spitting
image of his father.

The batter struck out and the inning ended, and as Scully
continued to watch her son, she soon realized she had an
audience of her own.  Looking up, she met Mulder's eyes, and
they smiled contentedly at each other.  They held each other's
gaze for a long moment, until his eyes dropped to her mouth, and
then his lips followed suit and closed the distance.

"Are you guys kissing *again*?"

The pair broke apart, laughing softly, before looking over in
tandem at their son's exasperated expression.

Mulder turned back to his wife with a smirk.  "Oh yeah, I'd say
he's shaping up to be a normal kid."
 

*******
THE END
*******
 
Final notes: In case you're wondering, I always intended this
story arc to be in two parts, fully knowing when I started out
that Mulder and Scully would get their son back (despite what
you may think, I'm not really sadistic enough to kill off
William).  However, as I wrote Out of the Ashes, I came to
realize that it was more of an interlude, part 2 of 3.  So,
there will eventually be a third part (but ONLY one more part)
--but do keep in mind that it took me a year to get part 2 out.

I made up the town of Cambridge, NC; if such a town does
exist, I couldn't find it in my atlas. And I had no idea when
I wrote this that the White Sox would win the World Series this
year, so the fact that I posted this during the same week was
entirely a coincidence.  I was just looking for an AL ballpark
for Mulder to watch a Yankees game.  Also, on the issue of
Mulder's degree in psychology, I know that many people think
he already has a doctorate, but I don't, so now I'm letting
him get one.

Thanks for reading!
 
 
 

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