Picking up the Pieces

By bellefleur
bellefleur1013@yahoo.com


DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: sure
RATING: PG-13 for some bad words and suggestive necking
CLASSIFICATION: S, A
KEYWORDS: MSR
DISCLAIMER: Not mine; they belong to CC, FOX, etc.
SUMMARY: Finally reunited with their son, Mulder and Scully
discover that "happily ever after" is not as easy at it
sounds.

Notes: This is a sequel to "Hearts on the Mend" and "Out of
the Ashes."  Both stories are available at Gossamer or my
website:

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

I have also included a synopsis of each below, after the
prologue.

This story is not a WIP and will be posted in parts over
the next week.


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

Mulder/Scully residence
July 14, 2008
3:38 pm

"For the last time, the answer is no!  That's final!  If
you want to ride horses, then we'll find somewhere around
here, but you're not going to that camp!"

"That's not fair!  Grandpa always let me go!  You never let
me do anything!  I want to go back to Grandpa's!"

William stormed off to his room and slammed the door for
dramatic effect, sparing Mulder from sending the boy there
himself.  In the stillness that ensued, Scully stood frozen
with her arms folded, while Mulder restlessly paced the
floor, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

This scenario was not a new one but only the culmination of
a series of conflicts over William's past versus present.  
In the years he had lived with Spender, known to him as
"Grandpa," nothing had been denied him.  Anything he asked
for, he always received, including horseback riding lessons
at a summer camp in the mountains of North Carolina.  This
had become the family's latest issue, and while his parents
had yielded on a few of his smaller requests, they were
adamant that he not be allowed to leave their supervision
to attend the camp, even for a week.  Hence, they had
become "mean" and "unfair."  But his most deadly weapon,
which he was learning to wield with great skill, was the
appeal to go home to Grandpa.  

And, as usual, this set off another recurring discussion:

"We have to tell him, Scully.  He needs to know the truth.  
I won't let my son grow up thinking that his 'grandfather'
was some kind of saint."

He had stopped to face her, hands propped on his hips, but
she moved toward the doorway, ready to make her own
retreat.

"No, Mulder.  We've been over this.  He's too young.  When
he's older, we'll tell him the truth, but not until he's
ready to handle it."

"Don't you think that letting him believe a lie will be
just as harmful?  This isn't like believing in the Easter
Bunny!"

"Shh, Mulder.  I don't want to talk about this now.  
William might hear us."  And with that, she was gone,
headed down the hallway to their bedroom.

In her absence, Mulder continued to pace for a few moments,
like a tiger in a cage.  This was his wife's favorite
appeal to end the conversation, and she always gave it as a
final pronouncement, indifferent to his compliance.  This
time, however, he had no intention to go along with it.  
They finally needed to have this out.

Upon his approach to their bedroom, he found the door shut.  
He wasn't sure if he was the one she was closing out, but
he didn't bother to knock before opening it.  She was
standing by the bed, her back to him; as he stepped closer,
he realized that she was dialing the phone.

"Who are you calling?"

She jumped slightly when he spoke, apparently not having
heard his entry, and hastily returned the phone to its
cradle.

"It doesn't matter."  She didn't meet his eyes as she
turned and headed past him toward the doorway, but he
stepped into her path, demanding her attention.  This was
yet another old conversation, and he was getting tired of
letting her have the last word.

"Get out of my way, Mulder."

His response was ground out through his teeth as he tried
to control his temper.  "Who. Were. You. Calling?"

Her eyes met his in defiance, and then she intentionally
put distance between them before she answered.  "Roger,
okay?  I thought maybe he'd have some advice on how to deal
with this."

Mulder shut the door behind him before letting loose.  "You
won't to talk to me about this, but you'll talk to
Roger?!?"

"He's a psychologist--"

"That's bullshit, Scully!  *I'm* a psychologist, and this
is *our* son!  If you want to talk to somebody, then talk
to me!"

His partner sighed and crossed her arms over her chest,
mumbling something under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"No.  You have something to say, then say it to me."

Her eyes were aflame when they met his.  After a long
pause, she responded, in a tone that was intended to pick a
fight: "I said, sometimes Roger's easier to talk to."

He knew she was waiting for his outburst, but none
followed.  The fight drained from him, replaced only by
resignation.  After a stony showdown, he stepped past her
and in one swift motion picked up his keys and wallet from
the nightstand.  He turned and was halfway out the door
before she had time to register what was happening.  

The conversation had never ended this way before.

"Where are you going?"  Her voice was now more confused
than angry.

He didn't care whether or not she heard him, not bothering
to raise his voice as he answered from down the hallway.

"Anywhere but here."   

************
end prologue
************

Well, that wasn't a very cheery beginning, now was it!  ;)
The next part will be posted soon.  In the meantime, you
can refresh your memory on the first two installments.


Synopsis of Hearts on the Mend:

A year after divorcing Mulder, Scully gets word that he's
in the hospital and catches the next flight back to DC.  As
she explains to Roger, her date, she and Mulder had gotten
married after her unexpected pregnancy.  When their son,
William, was only 4 years old, he disappeared from a
playground.  They soon found out that he had been taken by
a serial killer.  When the man was killed in a police raid,
William's remains were discovered along with those of the
other children.  The grief over their son's death proved to
be the undoing of their relationship as Mulder turned to
alcohol and Scully closed herself off.  Now, a year later,
Mulder has reached rock bottom, and waking to find Scully
by his hospital bed gives him new hope.  The two realize
that they never stopped loving each other, but it will be a
long, hard climb to rebuild their relationship.  Both go
into counseling and make an effort to get to know each
other again, finally discussing the issues that once
divided them.  In the end, they decide that their
relationship is worth the effort, and together they make a
fresh start.

*****

Synopsis of Out of the Ashes:

Almost a year after renewing their vows and settling in San
Francisco, Mulder and Scully receive a visit from an
unexpected guest, bearing unbelievable news.  Krycek has
come to tell them that their son is still alive and in the
care of their old enemy, the Cancer Man.  Enlisting the
help of the Lone Gunmen, the parents implement a rescue
operation to bring their son home from the quiet North
Carolina estate where he's been living with the man he
believes to be his grandfather.  The couple has come far in
rebuilding their relationship, but obvious tensions remain,
accentuated by the new stress of this unanticipated
development.  But Krycek's motives in sharing this
information were far from altruistic.  He wants Spender
dead and license to carry on in the man's place, without
interference.  In the end, Krycek is the one who pulls the
trigger and exterminates Spender, but Mulder and Scully are
able, finally, to take their son home and try to rebuild
their life as a family.  Their new start together includes
a move to Chicago and Mulder's choice to leave the FBI to
start a PhD in Psychology at the University of Chicago.
    
*****

Send feedback to: bellefleur1013@yahoo.com

Visit my stories at: www.geocities.com/bellefleur1013

*****
Act I
*****

Mulder/Scully residence
July 14, 2008
9:42 pm
 
The July heat had let up just enough to permit
extinguishing the air conditioner in favor of fresh air.  A
warm breeze tickled the drapes and ushered in the sounds of
a city settling down after sunset.  The third floor
apartment in Hyde Park was smaller than what the family had
hoped for, but it still had more square footage than the
San Francisco townhouse, and it allowed Mulder easy access
to the University of Chicago campus.  These summer months
before the term started were supposed to be a chance for
the three of them to reconnect before they all became too
busy with their own commitments, but things weren't quite
shaping out the way they had expected.

Kissing her sleeping son on the forehead, Scully quietly
rose from his bedside and latched the door soundlessly upon
her exit.  After his tantrum that afternoon, he had spent
most of the day in his room, emerging only for dinner.  By
then, his anger seemed to be long forgotten, but the two of
them had eaten in relative silence, both feeling the
pronounced absence of their third member.

Even at this late hour, Mulder had still not come home.

Scully sighed as she shuffled toward the front door to lock
up before heading to bed.  She set the deadbolt but left
the door unchained; she only wanted to keep out intruders,
not her wayward husband. 

During their years on the X-Files, she would have worried
when he went off like this, fearing he was getting himself
into trouble that she'd have to dig him out of.  After
their son's supposed death, Mulder's wanderings took him to
more predictable locations, usually the local bar, and her
rescues entailed dragging him home to sleep it off.  But
now that he was sober, she no longer worried about his
escape of choice.  He had ceased to run off on wild goose
chases, and instead of punishing his liver, he punished his
body in other respects.  This is why they had gotten him
the membership at a 24-hour gym, so he would always have
somewhere to go when the urge seized him.  Therefore, she
didn't worry.  She expected that whenever he finally
exhausted himself tonight, he would come staggering in the
door and collapse into bed.

Picking up her son's shoes from the entryway, she opened
the hall closet to toss them inside.  The door was almost
closed before her brain registered that their landing had
not been the customary *thump* on the wooden floor but a
much softer sound.  She reopened the door and looked down
to see what had obstructed their fall. 

It was Mulder's gym bag. 

Scully quickly dropped to her knees and unzipped the bag,
fighting off the panic that was starting to lay hold. 
Everything was in there: his running shoes, his sweats, his
swim trunks, his goggles--even his membership card.  She'd
never known him to leave for the gym without these things. 

In spite of her mounting fears, she told herself not to
worry.  He would probably be home soon.  She would wait up
until then, maybe read a book for a while.  Anything to
keep her mind from wandering down errant paths.

Little did she know, there was good reason to worry.

*****
*****

Frank's Bar
July 14, 2008
10:22 pm

By the time he arrived at the sleazy bar, Mulder didn't
know how long he had been driving aimlessly around town,
nor did he care.  When he ran out the door, he hadn't
intended to end up here.  He really hadn't been thinking
about where he wanted to go.  The gym would've been his
first choice, until he realized that his bag was still at
home.  There was no way he was going back there.  He just
had to get away--away from Scully, but perhaps even more,
away from himself.  It had been months since he had felt
the call to drink as fiercely as he did tonight.  He just
didn't have the energy to fight both his wife and his
impulses.  Something had to give. 

Seated now on a well-worn barstool, Mulder traced his
finger over the rim of the glass, his eyes absently
following its movements.  He was so thirsty, so very
thirsty.  He had come this far; why had he not yet taken
the final step?

He felt justified.  To do what exactly, he wasn't sure. 
But he felt something was owed to him.  He deserved
something.  All he wanted was to have a happy family, to
raise his son right.  Why must everything in his life
conspire against that?  Even Scully.

Especially Scully.

He forced down a dry swallow, the motion of his finger
hesitating for a moment and then speeding up to keep his
hand from shaking.  The other hand clenched into a tight
fist on the surface of the bar. 

It wasn't that he doubted her fidelity, even though he
insinuated that to her every time that bastard Roger's name
came up.  What really got to him was the fact that she
would talk to another man about their son--HIS son--when
she wouldn't talk to him.  Hadn't they already lost enough
years to another man raising their son?  A man that even
now still had a hold on the boy, his bony hands clutching
him from beyond the grave.  Every time "Grandpa"'s name was
invoked, Mulder could feel that same cold hand squeezing at
his heart.

The finger stopped circling and joined its companions in
wrapping tightly around the sweaty glass.  But he didn't
want it to be the glass.  He wanted it to be that bony
neck, so he could snap it in two.

Too many times that night at the estate had come back to
haunt him, like so many other moments from the past.  Once
more, he had held a gun to their nemesis but couldn't pull
the trigger.  It took someone else to do it for him.  What
kind of man did that show him to be?  He couldn't protect
his family; he couldn't bring them justice.  He was
powerless, inept, impotent.  He was less of a man than
Scully and William deserved.

Is that why she could only talk to Roger behind his back,
because she was discussing what a disappointment her
husband was?  A loser and a lush.  And here he was again,
sitting at a bar, just to drive the point home.

His fingers slipped from the glass.  He wouldn't do it.  He
wouldn't give them the satisfaction.  He wasn't going to
prove them right.

"I'll have what he's having."

Mulder started at the sultry voice so close to his ear. 
Absorbed as he was with his own thoughts, he had been
completely oblivious to his surroundings.  As he turned
toward the voice, his head unconsciously following a whiff
of perfume that he couldn't name, he emerged from his fog
to realize that the woman seated next to him was staring
directly at him while she placed her order with the
bartender.

Putting up a hand to stop the man before he walked away,
Mulder slid his glass over in front of her.  "Actually, you
can have exactly what I'm having.  I haven't touched it
yet."  He stuttered a little over his words as he realized
what he had said.  "Actually, I've *touched* it, just not
drank out of it, so you might want...."

He didn't have a chance to finish, interrupted by her coy,
"I know," spoken through a seductive smile before she
brought the glass to her ruby lips.  But before she drank,
her pink tongue slipped out to lick the rim of the glass.

Mulder forced himself to swallow and look away, chuckling
nervously as he did so.

"Trying to quit?"  The voice was even closer now, almost
purring.

His eyes followed the sound of the melting ice tinkling in
the glass as she set it down.  "Trying not to restart."

"So, what's a recovering alcoholic like you doing in a
place like this?"

He chuffed at her teasing line.  "Listen, I--"  He was
searching for some polite way to tell her that he wasn't
interested, that she'd have better luck with someone else,
but a glance at her eyes stopped him short.  Behind her
bravado, he saw something there that he recognized, a need
and hurt that matched his own.  When you stripped
everything else away, he thought, in this moment they were
just two broken souls looking for someone to talk to.

Was it any different than what Scully had done?

He covered the sudden seriousness of the moment with a shy
half-smile and returned his gaze to the ring of
condensation left behind by his drink.  "You know, the
usual.  Problems at home."

"Trying to numb the pain?"

"Mmm, maybe trying to forget who I am for a few hours."

"I can make you forget."  Her breath was warm and humid on
his ear, replaced by a cold draft in its absence.  His own
breath caught in his throat when he felt a warm hand settle
on his knee and slowly creep up his thigh.  He couldn't
dismiss the arousal he felt--and part of him didn't want
to. 

His breath now forced its way through, coming out in pants. 
His throat was dry, so very dry, and he stared longingly at
the ring of moisture in front of him.  He had come here
tonight to slake his thirst.  Hadn't he already broken his
commitment by simply walking through the door?  He was
already a failure.  Why walk away with nothing to show for
it?  Besides, there was no way he could go home tonight. 
He did need a place to sleep.

He just needed to forget who he was for a few hours.

The tension in his body melted away along with his resolve. 
He knew she felt his decision the moment he made it, the
hand coming to a stop just short of where he really wanted
it.  But he still didn't dare to turn and look at her.

"What's your name?" she asked.

He closed his eyes and unconsciously leaned toward where
the honeyed voice had just been.  "Marty."

"Marty."  She repeated it teasingly, as though she knew it
wasn't his real name.  "My name's Alex."

*Alex.*  Mulder's eyes shot open and he immediately
recoiled.  Hearing that name was like a splash of cold
water on his face, breaking the spell to restore the
stinging pain that he was trying to forget.  The name had
too many negative connotations, conjuring up too many
horrible memories.  His father.  Scully's sister.  Scully's
abduction.  The smoking man.

But the string of thoughts had brought an idea to his mind,
a possible solution to his problems. 

"That's it--Alex!" 

Once again oblivious to anything but his own musings,
Mulder sprang up from the stool and, with three swift
strides, was out the door.

He took no notice that Alex was left staring after him,
totally confused about what had just happened.

*****
*****

Mulder/Scully Residence
July 15, 2008
11:06 am

"Dammit!"

Scully slammed her keys down on the table in the entryway,
stopping just short of noisily closing the door with the
same force.  She swept a hand over her eyes once more,
willing away the tears.  Anger and panic struggled for
dominance in her churning stomach, both held in check for
the moment by mounting frustration.

She still had no idea where Mulder was, and she was due to
pick up William in less than an hour.  Somehow, she had to
pull herself together--and find some answers--before she
had to face her son's difficult questions.

The problem was, she had no idea where else to look.  A
fitful sleep had come over her the night before as she lay
in bed reading, but when she jolted awake at 4:00 am, it
was to the horrible realization that Mulder wasn't there,
and that he wasn't coming back. 

She had started with his cell phone, answered immediately
by a chirp in the living room.  For a split second, her
heart had risen to think that he was calling her at that
very moment, only to sink as she realized that he had left
his phone behind.

Her next call had been to the gym, where she demanded to
talk to every employee that had worked the desk in the last
twelve hours--including a few that had already gone home
for the night.  They didn't appreciate being awoken at such
an ungodly hour to tell her that no, they had not seen her
husband that day.  Eventually she had to admit to herself
that he hadn't gone to the gym.

It had been years since he had run off like this, leaving
her with no clue to his whereabouts.  And every time he had
done it, the result had not been good.  Too many times he
had turned up in a hospital bed, or in desperate need of
one.  She forced herself to stay focused on her task, to
shake off the slide show of memories that these thoughts
elicited--not least of all that unexpected call from
Skinner and the long plane ride across the country, not
knowing whether Mulder would still be alive when she
finally landed.

The hospitals had been her next resort, followed by the
police.  Scully knew she couldn't file a missing persons
report on him so soon, but she used the authority of her
badge to demand incident and accident reports for the last
few hours.  She finally turned to the credit card
companies, insisting they provide her with a list of recent
activity, but they maintained that the information wouldn't
be processed and available in their system for another 12
to 24 hours.  With every call, she tried to tamp down the
rising panic in her voice, wanting to get information
without worrying others, but she wasn't succeeding in
either respect. 

By the time she called the last credit card company,
William was up, and she had to make a plan for the day. 
There was no way she was going to work, but she couldn't
take her son with her, either.  She had no idea where she
might find Mulder, or in what condition, and she didn't
want William to be there to see it.  Calling up one of her
son's friends and apologizing for the early hour and short
notice, she was relieved to hear that he was welcome to
come over for a few hours.  After a call to the office and
a quick breakfast, she had dropped him off on the way to
her first stop.

Considering every other option first, Scully had reconciled
herself to scouring the local bars.  She didn't want to
believe that Mulder had gone out drinking, but at this
point, she had no idea where else to look.  The problem
was, in a city the size of Chicago, there were just too
many options.  And with the majority of the establishments
closed in the morning, it was almost impossible to track
down the bartenders for information on their patrons from
the night before. 

Upon call after call, and dead end after dead end, she had
finally gone home, defeated, frustrated, and resolutely
holding back the tears.

"Dammit, Mulder!  Where are you?!?" 

But the only answer was her own voice echoing through the
empty hallway.

*****
*****

Cambridge, NC
July 15, 2008
12:31 pm

Even at midday, the isolated country road was all but
deserted, leaving Mulder with little company but the forest
of young pines rising on either side.  The memories of this
place were bittersweet, reminders of the pain that had been
inflicted on his family, and the joy at the miracle of a
second chance.  The last time he'd driven down this road
had been in the opposite direction, escaping the pain in
exchange for the joy.  He never expected to be coming back.

The tall iron fence that surrounded the property was
Mulder's first clue to how much had changed under the new
ownership.  Before, it had been an eerily inviting country
manor.  Now, it was a well-guarded fortress.  Pulling his
rental car up to the front gate, he waited for a response. 
Finding none, he put the vehicle in park and strode over to
the intercom mounted in a stone post.

At his buzz, he was greeted with a hostile "Who is it?"

"An old buddy come to pay my respects."  Mulder looked
around for the hidden security camera, finally spotting it
in the bushes next to his head.  He gave it a toothy,
sarcastic grin.

"Well, well.  Can't say I expected to see you again.  I
thought our business was finished."

Mulder dropped the sarcasm and looked gravely at his
invisible conversation partner.  "I need a favor."

There was no verbal response, but a moment later, with the
clang of a lock disengaging, the gates began to swing open.

* * *

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Krycek leaned leisurely back in his chair behind the large
mahogany desk, mere inches away from where C.G.B. Spender
had taken his last puff.  Despite the major security
changes to the outside of the estate, the inside had
changed very little.

Mulder settled back in his own chair on the opposite side
of the table.  It was noticeably less comfortable and
several inches shorter than the other.

"Am I correct in assuming that you've collected evidence
against Spender?  Documentation or photos to be used for
blackmail?"

After slyly regarding him for a moment, maintaining his
poker face, Krycek replied, "Say that I did.  The man's
dead now.  What use would you have for this information?"

Mulder paused before responding, looking down at his hands
in indecision.  When his eyes rose again, it was with a
steady gaze.  "I need proof of what he did.  Proof that a
child would understand."

A wicked smile slowly stole across Krycek's face, a show of
respect for someone who had fallen equally low.  Shame
crept over Mulder to be on the receiving end of such a
look, but he quickly pushed it aside.  He had come too far
to change his mind.

As Krycek leaned forward, the anticipation built inside
Mulder, the hope that his trip was going to pay off.  But
Krycek was only reaching for the decanter at the edge of
the desk.

"Vodka?"

Mulder sighed and ran a hand over his face.  "No."  His
hopes sank again, as he now feared that the weasel only
intended to toy with him and then send him away empty-
handed.

"You sure?  You might need it."

That caught Mulder's attention.  He watched with curiosity
and apprehension as Krycek rose and crossed to a bookshelf
along the side wall.  After browsing several titles, he
finally settled on one and pulled it from the shelf,
bringing it back to the desk.  Only once he set it on the
table and opened the front cover did Mulder realize that it
was not a book but an empty shell, disguised as a book
cover, containing an assortment of papers and photos. 
Looking around him, he couldn't help but wonder how many of
the hundreds of books lining the walls contained similar
secrets.

Apparently anticipating his logic, Krycek broke through his
thoughts.  "Ah, ah, ah, Mulder.  You only get what you came
for.  Everything else is mine.  That was our arrangement. 
Remember?"

Mulder's eyes settled on his.  "Cut to the chase, Krycek. 
What do you have for me?"

While the prosthetic hand held the "book" in place, the
other sifted through the contents, carefully shielding them
as it went.  Finally the motions stopped, and a black-and-
white photo emerged from the middle of the stash.  Krycek
handed it across the table.

"You can keep this one.  I've got plenty more where it came
from.  Of course, most of the others are more...graphic...
but you wanted something suitable for a child."

Swallowing his apprehension, Mulder finally let his gaze
wander down to the photo now clasped in his hands.  It was
a grainy image, apparently captured from a surveillance
video.  And what he saw there both infuriated him and made
him sick.

He had seen this place before.  It was the inside of a
train car, used for human experimentation.  Along the
perimeters of the shot, several figures in pale scrubs and
surgical masks busied themselves in preparation for their
next procedure.  In contrast, a lone figure stood next to
the gurney in the center, his black suit drawing the eye's
attention and screaming out his incongruity in this
context.  In defiance of medical protocols, a stream of
smoke wafted from his cigarette up toward the camera.

On the gurney lay an inert figure whose face Mulder knew
better than his own.  So much younger then, she looked
almost peaceful, her eyes closed as though merely in
slumber.  But at any moment he expected those eyes to
spring open in accusation.

Mulder couldn't help but spit out in his rage, "All this
time, there's been proof of what was done to her?!?"

Krycek had returned from replacing the volume and was
settling back into his chair.  "Mulder, Mulder," he intoned
patronizingly, "you're not much of a chess player, are you? 
You can't win the game unless you're willing to sacrifice a
few pieces."

"I've already made too many sacrifices," he replied through
clenched teeth.  His mission accomplished, Mulder couldn't
bear to spend another moment in this man's presence. 
Without another word, especially one that he might regret
(or not), he got up and headed for the front door.

"What, no 'thank you'?"  The mocking chuckle echoed after
the retreating guest.


******
Act II
****** 

Mulder/Scully Residence
July 15, 2008
10:03 pm

Scully settled further into the couch and stared numbly at
the evening news.  It had been over 30 hours since she had
last seen her husband, and after a full day of searching
for him, she was physically and emotionally exhausted. 
Against her better judgment, she had decided not to file a
missing persons report or to call in FBI resources--yet. 
Since Mulder hadn't turned up in any of the local
hospitals, she had to accept the possibility that he simply
didn't want to see her and would eventually contact her on
his own.  She just prayed that when she next saw him, he
would still be in one piece.

A sound down the hall drew her attention.  Muting the
television, she held her breath, trying to discern the
noise.  The locks were disengaging in the front door.

She sprang up from the couch, reaching the hallway just in
time to see her missing husband kick off his shoes in the
entryway.  He was wearing the same rumpled clothes from the
day before and a weary expression, but otherwise he looked
no worse for the wear.

"My God, Mulder, where have you been?"  She tried to keep
her voice down lest she wake their son, but her harsh
whisper only served to accentuate the stress in her voice.

"There was something I had to do."  He didn't make eye
contact with her as he passed swiftly by, a small piece of
paper clasped in his hand.  She watched in bewilderment
while he headed straight into their son's room, shutting
the door behind him.

At first, Scully was so surprised by his actions that she
didn't move.  What on earth was he up to this time?

Memories of their last argument pushed past the fear and
panic of the day, and the uneasy feeling in her gut sent
her into action.  She quickly moved to the closed door,
just listening at first to determine what might be
unfolding on the other side.  All she could hear were two
muted voices in conversation.

Finally the uncertainty got the better of her and she
decided to interrupt their little tete-a-tete.

She found William sitting up in bed, Mulder seated along
the edge facing him.  The boy was holding the piece of
paper that she had seen in Mulder's hand.  As she entered,
William looked up at her, his eyes still cloudy with sleep
but now full of emotions that she couldn't quite read. 
Mulder didn't turn to look at her, but she knew he was
aware of her presence when he reached over and quickly took
the sheaf from his son's hand.  In the motion, she caught a
glimpse of the other side, only now realizing that it was a
photograph.

In two swift steps she had crossed the room and relieved
Mulder of the picture.  Her breath caught when she
recognized the figures in the image, first their enemy,
then her own immobilized body.  Shock and horror from the
memories then shifted into rage at the surfacing awareness
of what her husband had just done.

"May I speak to you in the hallway for a moment?"  Her
anger was barely veiled by her quiet civility.

Mulder caressed his son's face, then turned to face his
punishment, rising and leaving the room with eyes lowered
to the floor.

Scully was sure to close the door behind her before
grabbing hold of Mulder's arm to drag him farther away from
their son's earshot.

"What the hell were you thinking?!?"  She still managed to
keep her volume low, although the tension was perceptibly
mounting.

In counterpoint, Mulder's voice was almost devoid of
emotion.  "He had to know the truth." 

"After I told you he was too young for this?  So what now? 
You think this will just fix everything?  That we can just
go on with our lives, without any consequences?"

For the first time since his return, Mulder's eyes finally
met hers.  "We were never going to have our son back until
he knew the truth."

His resolute calm only angered her further.  "You and your
goddamn Truth!" she spat at him.  With nothing else at hand
as an outlet for her fury, she resorted to the photo still
in her grip, ripping it into quarters before throwing it to
the ground.  "I'm checking on William and then going to
bed.  You can have the couch." 

She was careful not to touch him as she moved past him down
the hall and disappeared into their son's room.

* * *

Mulder had no concept of what time it was as he reclined on
the couch, mechanically changing channels.  The lights were
off, so the bluish glow strobed through the room as one
station flashed to another.  He had only caught a few hours
of sleep in a cheap motel before rushing off to his flight
that morning, so he was now drained and exhausted, but
sleep just wouldn't come.

He had spent all day avoiding consideration of the
consequences for his actions, and he didn't want to give in
now.  He knew that Scully was beyond angry with him, and
probably had every right to be, but he still couldn't help
but feel that ultimately he had made the right choice. 
Whether he had or not, the damage had already been done.

It took a moment for his tired brain to register the motion
beside him.  The strobing stopped, settling on a random
channel, and Mulder turned to see his son standing next to
the couch, watching him with tear-filled eyes.  William
turned briefly to look back, and Mulder followed his gaze
to see Scully standing in the doorway.  She nodded gently
at the boy, and then Mulder watched as he came closer.

"Hey, what's wrong?"  Mulder spoke tenderly, stroking the
boy's head bowed shyly before him.

"I had a bad dream."  William looked plaintively up at his
father.  "The bad men came to take Mommy."

Mulder's heart sank and he reached out to take William into
his warm embrace.  "Oh, buddy, I have nightmares like that
all the time.  But it was just a dream.  Mommy's okay. 
Nobody's coming to hurt her.  I promise."  Mulder pulled
back and looked into his son's glistening eyes.  "Okay?"

The boy sniffled and hesitantly nodded.  Mulder smiled
reassuringly and nodded in confirmation, sealing his
promise with a kiss to his son's forehead.  "How 'bout I
come tuck you back into bed?"

"Can I sleep in your bed?"

Mulder hesitated, unsure how to respond, but a voice behind
him came to the rescue.  "It's okay."

Stroking William's hair one more time, Mulder gave his
answer.  "Why don't you go with your mom, okay?"

William nodded again and then disappeared around the side
of the couch.  But a moment later, Mulder heard the small
voice behind him: "Daddy, are you coming?"

Mulder looked back at them uncertainly, waiting for
Scully's reaction.  She looked toward him, her eyes not
making it all the way up to meet his, and offered a
defeated nod.  After she had turned and led their son away,
he clicked off the TV and moved from the darkened room
toward the single light filtering down the hall.

* * *

The apparent closeness of the small family huddled together
on the bed was anything but.  They lay together in the
center of the bed, illuminated by a lone bedside lamp, the
boy in the center with a parent facing him on either side. 
Both had watched him as he drifted back to sleep, each
studiously avoiding the other's eyes.  Nothing had been
spoken for over half an hour when Scully's whisper broke
the silence.

"He's asleep.  We should put him back to bed."

"I'll take him."

Gently scooping his son into his arms, Mulder then turned
and disappeared through the doorway.  Scully lay waiting in
the quiet, unsure whether or not he would return to their
room.

A moment later, her answer came.  Mulder stood in the
doorway, his hands on either side bracing his weight as he
leaned forward, giving the impression that an invisible
force prevented him from proceeding further.

"If you want me to go, I'll understand.  I can get a motel
room for the night."

Scully couldn't muster a response, not trusting the words
that might escape her mouth.  Taking the silence as
agreement, Mulder turned and headed down the hall.

It wasn't until he vanished from her sight that the
consequences of this option settled in for Scully.  She
quickly got to her feet and pursued him.

"God, Mulder, I just got you back.  I don't want you to
leave again."  It was the first time since his return that
the anger gave way to the loss that she had been feeling
all day long.  Defiant tears slipped from her eyes and
blazed a trail down her face.  Her voice was choked down to
a faint whisper when she continued.  "Do you have any idea
what you put me through today?"

By his crestfallen face, it was clear that until that
moment, he hadn't.  "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking about..."

"You weren't thinking about me."

"That's not what I meant."

"But it's true."

He didn't offer a rebuttal.

In the awkward pause, Scully realized she was standing just
outside their son's door.  "C'mon, I don't want to risk
waking him again."  She turned and led the way back to
their bedroom.  Mulder hesitated a moment, as though
uncertain of her invitation, but when she looked back at
him in question, he followed.

Closing the door behind him, Mulder took the opportunity to
finally divest himself of the two-day-old outfit.  Scully
sat back against the headboard, brushing away the lingering
moisture from her cheeks and then crossing her arms to wait
for him to finish.  Once he turned to face her in a fresh
t-shirt and boxers, she continued the conversation.

"I thought we were through with the ditching."

"Just like old times, huh?"  Mulder's attempted joke fell
flat.

"No, actually, it's not, because we have a child now.  I
can't just go chasing after you, because one of us has to
be here to take care of William.  Not to mention the fact
that I had no idea where to look."

"If I had told you where I was going, you never would've
let me go."

"No, I wouldn't--and I don't think I need to explain why."

"I'm sorry if I worried you.  That wasn't my intention."

She chuffed out a bitter laugh and shook her head.  "Don't
bother apologizing.  Given the chance, I'm sure you'd do
the same thing all over again."

"Yeah, you're right, I probably would."

Too exhausted to fight anymore, Scully resigned herself to
this reality.  Her reply was quiet.  "Next time, the least
you can do is leave me a message."

Humbled by her subdued tone, Mulder nodded mutely at her
then tentatively approached the bed and sat on the edge,
still allowing her plenty of space. 

"Where did you go, anyway?" she asked.

Mulder hesitated a beat before answering.  "North Carolina
--but only after an initial stop at a crummy bar."

Scully felt a mixture of pity and horror settle in her gut. 
"Oh, Mulder..."

"I didn't drink, amazingly, but obviously I wanted to or I
never would've gone there."  He moved back against the
headboard, finally pulling his legs up onto the bed.  With
a deep sigh, he continued.  "I've lost my accountability
network.  When we first came to Chicago, I was glad for the
fresh start.  I no longer had to be 'Fox Mulder, alcoholic'
--I could just be myself.  But I didn't realize that the
baggage came with me.  It's all part of the package now; I
can't leave it behind, and I can't ignore it.  I need to
find a local AA chapter so I have somebody to talk to the
next time..."

"The next time you don't feel like you can talk to me?"

"I guess it goes both ways, doesn't it?"

She physically recoiled from his verbal slap, raising her
defenses again.  "I never--"

But he halted her with a dismissive gesture.  "It's too
late right now to get into that argument again.  Why don't
we both get a good night's sleep before we head into round
two?" 

"Fine," she huffed at him, mimicking his dismissive gesture
and turning her head away.

A stifling stillness lingered for a moment, neither of them
moving, until he finally asked, "Do you want me to go back
to the couch?"

She turned and glared at him.  "No.  I'm actually thinking
about handcuffing you to the bed."

He waggled his eyebrows at her, and she cracked a smile in
spite of herself.

"I didn't mean it that way."

"You could spank me instead."

"Goodnight, Mulder."  She slid down in the bed and pulled
the covers up, then turned onto her side facing away from
him.

After a long pause, Scully felt the mattress dip down
behind her, once he apparently determined it was safe to
stay; but she knew he wasn't foolish enough to venture
closer than his own side of the bed.  The lamp then went
off, abandoning them to the heavy silence of the dark. 

Every muscle in her body remained taut, her ears
unconsciously pricked for the rhythmic breaths of his REM
sleep, but none came.  Weariness eventually prevailed over
the tension and pulled her into sleep, leaving her
oblivious to the words that remained unspoken on his part
and, like stomach acid, were gnawing away at his insides. 

*****
*****

Mulder/Scully Residence
July 16, 2008
7:31 am   

Cooking had never been Mulder's strong suit, but there were
a few key dishes that he had mastered over the years.  One
of them was frozen waffles.  That was his gourmet meal of
choice this morning, which he was elegantly preparing as a
sort of peace offering to his family.

The few hours he had spent in bed were restless ones, his
conscience refusing to allow him tranquility or sleep.  It
was still dark outside when he finally rose, deciding to do
something more productive than lie in bed alone with his
thoughts.  He was hoping that a nice breakfast might help
to break the tension in their home and ease them into civil
conversation.

"Oh, I didn't realize you were here."

He turned to see Scully standing in the doorway, hesitating
in her entry.  "Where else would I--" 

What had started as an offhand and lighthearted remark
ended abruptly when the reality sank in.  It was a comment
better left unfinished.  Mulder decided to change the
topic, and quickly.  "I made breakfast."

She skeptically eyed his version of the day's most
important meal.  The table was already set, adorned with an
array of sugary and fattening toppings, lacking only the
stack of waffles undergoing their metamorphosis from frozen
to fluffy by the magic of the toaster.

"I'm not really that hungry.  I just came in to make some
coffee."

"I'll do it."  He swiftly reached for the empty coffee pot,
eager to be helpful, but this left her lingering on the
threshold, apparently uncertain what to do with herself.

"I'll just go check on William."

Looking over only in time to see the empty doorway, Mulder
silently berated himself.  So far the morning wasn't going
as well as he had hoped. 

He couldn't blame her, really, for her feelings.  But it
would do them no good to hold on to this.  He couldn't take
back what had happened.  The only remaining option was to
do some damage control, and then they could move forward. 
Or, at least, that was the plan.  The first step was to
clear the air and get them talking again.

Mulder turned at the click of heels against the tile,
followed by the soft shuffling of little bare feet.  A
drowsy William was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes,
and Mulder couldn't help but smile at the sight he made,
his hair all spiked in different directions.  He'd seen a
similar sight in the mirror many a morning.  Scully led
their son to the table and then helped herself to a mug of
coffee, without bothering to look in her husband's
direction.

Deciding it was best not to force any conversation at this
point, Mulder silently removed the last two waffles from
the toaster and placed the full platter at the center of
the table.  He took his seat opposite William, hoping that
Scully would follow his example.  After a moment of
hesitation, she did.

They fell into a familiar rhythm, mother serving and
cutting food for son before turning to her own plate,
father passing her each dish and condiment, then serving up
his own share.  But when it was Scully's turn to fill her
plate, she didn't bother.  The waffles were set back on the
center of the table.  Her mug was the only part of her
place setting that she touched; sipping quietly and
methodically at the steaming liquid, she lifted her eyes
only to glance occasionally toward William while he ate.

"So, Will, anything you want to do today?" Mulder ventured.

The boy glanced up at his father but only shook his head
slightly and then returned to his waffles.

"We could go down to the park, toss a ball around."

William reached for his milk and stole a glance at his
mother, whose eyes were currently fixed on her empty plate.

"Or, maybe we could check out some stables in the area.  I
know how much you want to ride horses."

But Mulder's words continued to fall on deaf ears, or at
least didn't elicit a direct response.  However, Scully
chose that moment to abruptly scoot back her chair.

"I need to leave for work or I'm going to be late."  While
she spoke, she crossed to the sink and tossed out the
remains of her coffee, and then returned to the table to
lean over and kiss her son's cheek.  "Be good for your dad
today, okay?  I'll see you later."

Scully had already rounded the corner into the hallway when
the quiet voice called out behind her: "Mommy?"

The footfalls soon halted and backtracked.  When she
reappeared in the doorway, William asked in the same soft
voice, "Did my grandpa hurt you?"

Mulder felt the wind ripped from his lungs, like he had
been kicked in the chest.  He watched as though from a
distance as Scully's face crumpled and she hastened to drop
to her knees next to William and gather him into her arms.

"Oh, William, sweetie, it's okay.  Mommy's okay.  Grandpa
won't hurt anybody ever again, I promise."

Scully rocked the boy, whispering reassurances into his
ear, until he calmed and his grip slackened.  She pulled
back to kiss his forehead, followed by a heavy sigh. 
"Maybe I should stay home today."

It took Mulder a moment to stabilize his breathing and find
his voice again.  "No, you go ahead.  I think Will and I
need to spend some time together."

Finally she settled her gaze on him, but with an intensity
that he rarely saw and knew to dread.  He tried feebly to
reassure her.  "It'll be okay, Scully."

Her glare remained steady.  "Maybe it won't." 

The message sank in loud and clear: He had fucked up big
time, and it would be a long road to making things right
again.

But she surprised him by saying goodbye to William.  "You
know where to find Mommy's phone number if you need
anything, right?"  He sniffled and nodded.  "Will you be
okay now?"  Another slow nod.  "Then that makes two of us. 
I'll see you after work, okay?"  She gave William one more
tight hug and then breezed out of the room without any
further acknowledgment of her husband.

Mulder sat quietly watching William pick at his food.  When
the snick of the front door closing echoed down the
hallway, the motion of the fork paused, and Mulder made one
more attempt to lighten the conversation.

"Hey, kiddo, your waffle's looking pretty soggy there.  Can
I get you another one?"

But the boy just shook his head, set down his fork, and
slithered out of his chair and from the room.  Mulder was
left alone at the breakfast table with a full stack of
waffles before him, mocking the peace offering he had tried
to make.

Sliding both hands into his hair and letting his elbows hit
the table to prop him up, he had only one thing left to
say.

"Shit."


*******
Act III
*******

Basement of St. Patrick's Memorial Church
July 21, 2008
6:55 pm

Nearly a week had passed since his little side trip down
south, and Mulder just considered himself lucky to still
have a place to call home.  Things hadn't been easy, but at
least Scully deemed him worth talking to, on occasion, and
he was doing everything he could think of to make things
better.  Which explained why he was here tonight.

Mulder looked around the small meeting hall, taking note of
the people trickling in the doorway.  He'd had such a
difficult time feeling comfortable in the Alcoholics
Anonymous meetings the first time around, and starting with
a new chapter always brought back the same discomfort.  He
constantly had to remind himself that as much as he thought
he was different from these people, he was really just like
the rest of them.

Feeling restless waiting for the meeting to start, Mulder
wandered over to the refreshments table and grabbed a
Styrofoam cup.  He had just filled it with steaming coffee
and was reaching for the creamer when he heard a familiar
voice close behind him.

"Hi, Marty.  Small world, huh?"

His spine involuntary stiffened, possibly in response to
the chill that had just run up it, and he took a deep
breath before turning to face her.  "Hi, Alex.  Fancy
meeting you here."  It felt like a stupid thing to say, but
he really didn't know how to handle this situation.  He
lifted the cup to his lips to avoid saying anything else.

"Well, now you know my secret.  I didn't belong in that bar
any more than you did."  Her words were serious, but her
eyes were teasing.

He chuckled uneasily.  "At least we're both in the right
place now."

She stepped closer and propped a shapely hip against the
table.  "I don't go there to drink as much as to meet men." 
Leaning in, she dropped her tone.  "Although, I shouldn't
be there for that either.  I'm also a member of Sexoholics
Anonymous."

Mulder just about choked on his coffee.  He didn't know
whether to take her seriously or if she was just coming on
to him.

"Uh, listen, Alex, I gave you the wrong impression the
other night.  I'm married, and I love my wife very much.  I
never should have--"

"So?  Bring her along."  Her lips curled into a flirtatious
smile.  "The more, the merrier."

The leader called the meeting to order then, and none too
soon.  Mulder chivalrously gestured for Alex to lead the
way to the chairs, and then he judiciously hung back and
grabbed a seat close to the exit.  When the meeting was
over, he would waste no time getting out of there.

*****
*****

Mulder/Scully residence
July 21, 2008
11:07 pm

It was late when Mulder finally slid his key into the front
door.  His time at the gym had felt much more rewarding
than the AA meeting, perhaps only because it was a chance
to do something instead of just talking.  That was one
aspect of the FBI that he actually missed, the ability to
take action.  If he truly intended to pursue a career in
psychology, this was one void he would need to find another
way to fill.  Of course, if he wanted to pursue psychology,
it wouldn't hurt getting his own life in order first.

After padding quietly down the darkened hallway in his
socks, he gently turned the knob to their bedroom door,
eager not to wake Scully.  But as the bed came into view,
he found it empty and still made.  The bathroom door was
open, the room dark, and there were no other lights on. 
His heart began to sink as he sensed that he was alone.  If
she had decided to take William and leave him, she was
certainly justified.  But he expected Scully to leave an
note--unless she was getting her revenge for what he had
pulled on her last week.

Mulder tried to squelch his panic and retreated down the
hallway to his son's room.  The faint glow of the
nightlight shining through the crack of the ajar door gave
him a glimmer of hope.  He quietly pushed the door open.

Relief washed over him as he saw his son there in bed, with
Scully snuggled up alongside him.  The receding panic
yielded to embarrassment and then shame as he remembered
that William had hardly slept a night by himself this week,
and that he himself was responsible for his son's
predicament.  Just as quietly as he had entered, he pulled
back again, hoping not to disturb either of them, but
Scully's head turned in his direction.  He decided to
return to the bedroom, not certain if she was ready to
follow.

His sweaty shirt and socks had just hit the hamper when he
heard the bedroom door softly click shut behind him.  He
turned to find Scully yawning and pulling back the covers
on the bed.

No point avoiding the obvious.  "Another nightmare?"

She sighed and sat down on the mattress.  "He managed to
fall asleep after I read to him, but then he woke up an
hour later calling for me.  I know I should've insisted
that he go back to bed on his own, but I just couldn't
leave him alone like that, so I held him until he went to
sleep."

He took a seat on his own side of the bed, leaving a gaping
chasm between them.  "This is all my fault."

To her credit, she didn't say anything.  She just looked at
her hands.  But her silence was as good as an agreement.

"I don't know how to fix this, Scully."

There was a long pause before she responded, but her gaze
remained lowered.  "We've waited too long to find him a
local counselor.  This is more than we can handle by
ourselves."

"Maybe we should ask Roger for a referral."

She turned to face him them, with fire in her eyes, but it
soon fizzled out when saw the lack of guile in his
expression.  She clearly recognized the huge concession he
had just made.  It took her a moment to assemble her
response.  "I can call his office in the morning.  You
could also contact the university, see if someone in the
department can recommend anyone."

He nodded and smiled slightly, grateful that she was
meeting him halfway.  He stood and took a step towards the
bathroom.  "I'm going to hit the shower.  Do you need the
bathroom first?"

"Uh, yeah, give me just a minute."

But there was so much percolating inside of him that he
couldn't leave it at that.  He knew he had made a mistake,
yet he still felt it was well-intended.  He needed her to
understand that he had never meant to hurt William. 

Scully's hand was on the doorknob when he blurted out, "I
just couldn't stand lying to my son anymore."

She froze but didn't turn to face him.  He took it as
license to continue.  "My entire childhood was built on
lies.  Lies about who my father was, the things he was
involved in.  And lies about Samantha and what really
happened to her."

Scully dropped her hand from the knob and pivoted in his
direction, watching with concern as he carried on. 

"I grew up idolizing my father, believing that he was a
good man who had been horribly wronged and didn't deserve
to lose his entire family.  But he let me live with the
guilt all those years.  He let me believe that I was
responsible for losing my sister, that I could've done
something to save her, when the truth was, he was the one
who was responsible all along.  I can't do the same thing
to William.  Maybe I went about it the wrong way, but he
deserves to be raised with the truth, not a pack of lies. 
I owe him that much."  The passion of his confession
tapered off, leaving his last line little more than a
whisper.  "I love him that much."

His wife dropped her head and took a deep breath before she
met his eyes again.  "I can't condone what you did, Mulder. 
I understand your reasons, but you had no right to make a
decision like that without consulting me first.  He's my
son, too.  I don't want to raise him with lies any more
than you do, but there's a difference between a blatant lie
and judiciously handing out the truth.  I know this has
always been difficult for you to accept, but there is a
time and a place for the truth, and this wasn't it."  She
closed her eyes and released a shaky sigh.  "I'll be out in
a minute, and then you can have the shower."

* * *

Despite her exhaustion, Scully was propped up in bed
reading when Mulder finally returned to the bedroom, spring
fresh and ready for bed.  He climbed into bed silently,
either not wanting to disturb her or not really interested
in talking.  But she was.

"So, how'd the meeting go?"

Settling into the mattress, he faked a yawn and turned onto
his side, facing away from her, as he answered.  "Oh, you
know, the usual deadbeats.  I think I'll check out some
other chapters in the area."

His evasion was blatant, and not at all what she expected. 
Something was clearly up.  Rather than ask, she burned a
hole into the back of his head with her stare and let her
silence speak for itself.

It didn't take long for Mulder to flop over onto his back
and sigh, looking at the ceiling in lieu of meeting her
eyes.  "I'm a schmuck, Scully."

She cocked an eyebrow.  "I realize that, but you'll have to
be more specific about how it pertains to this situation."

His eyes closed, another evasion.  Whatever was on his
mind, he was having a hard time sharing it with her, which
didn't bode well.  "I didn't tell you everything about the
bar the other night."

"I'm listening."  She couldn't mask the anxiety in her
voice.

Opening his eyes, he sat up and faced her before
continuing.  And then he reached for her hand--another bad
sign.  "There was this woman."

Scully felt her stomach drop.  She didn't want to
contemplate where this was headed.  Relapses into
alcoholism she was prepared for, but never in their years
together had she suspected Mulder to be unfaithful to her. 
She wasn't sure she could handle this information on top of
everything else.  His touch suddenly felt like acid searing
her skin, but she couldn't withdraw her hand.  She simply
couldn't move.

Mulder must have detected her change in demeanor, since he
hastened to reassure her.  "Nothing happened!"  Scully let
herself breathe again and tried to pay attention to the
rest of what he was saying.  "But I was tempted.  I can't
even tell you how ashamed I am that I would ever consider
something like that, even for a moment.  I'd never be able
to live with myself if I did that to you." 

She realized that his grip had tightened; with his other
hand, he softly stroked the back of hers.  She moved to
reclaim her fingers from him, but when he let go, she saw
the flash of disappointment on his face and reconsidered. 
Her hand remained loosely in his grasp.

"Anyway," he proceeded, "I saw her at the meeting tonight. 
That's why I can't go back there."

It took some time for her to get her heart rate down and
her breathing back to a normal rhythm.  The sickening
feeling had started to dissipate, but there was only a
numbness that followed.  After a long silence, she finally
spoke.  "If she hadn't been there tonight, would you ever
have told me about this?"

He paused to think about it.  "I don't know.  I think the
guilt would've gotten the best of me sooner or later."

In a weak tone, she voiced what she hoped wasn't true. 
"Was it because you were angry with me about Roger?"

"A little, maybe."  He shifted to face her more fully.  "I
know that there's nothing going on between you and Roger,
not physically, and I know that he's a good psychologist
and he only wants to help Will.  But the truth is, he
doesn't have all the facts, and he will never fully
understand this situation.  God knows it's hard enough for
*us* to understand, and we've lived it.  But it hurts,
Scully.  It hurts when you end a conversation with me to go
talk to another man."

The accusations she had been prepared to throw at him a
moment before had stopped in mid-air and made a 180.  She
knew he had been upset about Roger, but she had always
thought it was irrational male posturing.  It had never
occurred to her that her actions had profoundly hurt him. 
But it was true, she had turned to another man at times
when she felt closed off from her own husband. 

Unable to raise her eyes to his, she focused on the bed
between them and stated quietly, "Maybe it doesn't have to
be a physical act for it to feel like a betrayal."  It
wasn't an apology, but at least an acknowledgement.

She met his eyes then and saw only understanding.  In their
thoughts, and maybe their hearts, they had both already
cheated. 

"I think..."  She hesitated, searching for the right words.
"I think we need to learn accountability with each other,
for more than just the drinking."

"Do you think we should go back into counseling?"

"If that's what it'll take, then maybe we should."

Mulder shifted closer once more and took both her hands in
his.  "We've fought so hard to get where we are, Scully. 
We're finally a family again, and I will do anything it
takes to make this work."  A tear escaped his eye and
trickled down his cheek, but he didn't let go of her hands
to brush it away.  "Promise me something."  She inquired
with her eyes.  "Promise me you won't let me mess this up."

She was having a hard time suppressing the tears welling up
in her own eyes.  Clearing her throat, she answered as
steadily as she could, "On one condition."

"What?"  He sounded hopeful, if a bit hesitant.

"Don't let me mess this up either."

Her smile broke first, and the tension faded as he answered
with a smile of his own.  With a grateful nod, he let go of
her hands to pull her into a tight hug.  It felt like ages
since they had really held each other like this. 

They rocked back and forth gently, and she tried to reclaim
control over the tears that escaped unbidden.  When she
finally loosened her grip on him, Mulder pulled back and
placed a tender kiss on her forehead.  He looked down into
her eyes then, and his lips opened as if to speak, but when
his eyes shifted to her mouth, his lips followed.  The
first touch matched the kiss to her forehead, gentle and
sweet, but their lips met again, and again, each time with
more pressure and urgency, eager to get reacquainted. 

Time seemed to slip away, only returning when she felt him
push her back into the mattress with his weight.  Concerns
began to creep back into her consciousness, but her body
was ignoring them, submitting instead to her mounting
arousal.  It had been so long since Mulder had touched her
like this, and she always turned into putty when he nibbled
on her neck the way he was doing right now.

"Mommy!"

They both froze, doused with reality.  Reason regained the
upper hand, and she firmly pushed him away as the call
sounded again down the hall.  "It's your turn." 

But her words were unnecessary; he was already on his way
to the door.

*****
*****

Office of Dr. Stapleton
July 30, 2008
3:21 pm

Scully reread the sentence for the third time, trying to
get her brain to connect with the words on the page.  The
article was on dealing with anxiety in children, and she
thought it might prove helpful.  But somewhere between
"This" and the period, she kept getting distracted. 

She raised her head from the page and sighed.  Seated
opposite her were a mother and son, the boy perhaps five or
six.  The woman was once again reprimanding him, with loud,
harsh whispers, to sit still.  The boy complied, but it
only lasted for about ten seconds.  He just wouldn't stop
squirming.  Attention deficit disorder, Scully guessed.

Closing the magazine in her lap but holding her place,
Scully glanced around the waiting room at the bright murals
on the walls.  Shiny, happy people.  Cartoonish faces
without a care in the world.  Maybe it helped the children
feel better, but it was enough to make her sick.

Completing their revolution of the room, her eyes landed on
her husband.  His right knee was bouncing at light speed,
and a rubber ball that he had picked up from somewhere was
being juggled between his hands almost as rapidly.  Scully
reached over and placed a hand on his leg, which brought
all motions to a sudden stop.

"Sit still, Mulder, before you start making me nervous."

"Oh, like you're one to talk, Ms. White Knuckles."

Scully looked down at her hand to realize that she did
indeed have quite a firm grip on his knee.  Before she
could withdraw her hand, Mulder reached down to pick it up. 
Their hands clasped loosely and settled on his thigh.

"Reading anything interesting?" he asked, looking down at
the text in her lap.

"No," she sighed, and then set the magazine aside on the
end table.

She felt his thumb start to rub the back of her hand and
suspected that it was just another manifestation of his
nervous energy, now that the rest of him had been stilled. 
She watched while the boy across from her turned around and
started climbing on the back of his chair.

Mulder's thumb paused for a moment and then resumed
stroking.  "You think everything's going okay in there?" 
He nodded slightly toward the door in question, behind
which their son was meeting with the new counselor for the
first time.

"I certainly hope so."  She dreaded the thought of spending
the next few months trying out one psychologist after
another until they found the right match for William.

Interrupting her thoughts, Mulder leaned in and confessed,
"I feel like I've been called in to the principal's
office."

"Feeling guilty for pulling the girls' pigtails again?" 
She meant it as a joke, but regretted her words when she
saw a flicker of shame pass over his face.

"Yeah, something like that."  He attempted a smile, but it
soon faded.

She crossed her right leg over her left, pivoting her torso
to face him, and reached her free hand across to rest atop
their loose clasp.  Lowering her tone, she spoke just above
a whisper.  "No one's here to point fingers at you.  What's
done is done.  Now we just have to figure out how to move
on."

His eyes searched hers for a moment, perhaps judging her
sincerity, or her level of forgiveness, then dropped to
focus on their joined hands.

"You know..."  He cleared his throat and continued, "I saw
a sign for a marriage counselor down the hall.  Maybe we
should get the phone number on our way out." 

She was weighing whether or not to tell him about the list
of counselors she already had--it had come from Roger, in
the e-mail that suggested Dr. Stapleton for William. 
Apparently, her answer was too slow in coming, because
Mulder quickly glanced up, his eyes full of concern.

"Maybe we should," she offered, hoping he wouldn't read too
much into her pause.  She squeezed his hand for good
measure, and he smiled back at her, this time more
heartily.

Their hands remained connected, but they shifted away from
each other and settled into an uneasy silence.  They had
never been good at waiting. 

Scully found her gaze wandering the room again.  She leaned
toward Mulder and said quietly, "Is it just me, or is the
decor in here rather hideous?"

He chuckled softly and looked around at the walls.  "I
think it's meant to be cheerful, or soothing, or...
something."

She nodded toward a character on the facing wall and stared
at it with him when he followed her gesture.  "I don't know
what that thing is supposed to be, but I swear it reminds
me of the Flukeman."

Mulder guffawed rather loudly, and then quickly raised his
free hand to cover his mouth.  Scully hadn't meant it to be
quite that funny, but his laughter was contagious, and she
couldn't suppress the chuckles bubbling up within her. 

The two of them were in a fit of stifled giggles, and
attracting plenty of stares from around the room, when the
counselor's door opened.  The pair immediately sobered, and
Scully felt her face growing hot.  Dr. Stapleton gave them
both a quizzical look before saying, "Mr. and Mrs. Mulder?"
and gesturing for them to join him inside the room.

As they rose from their seats, Scully avoided looking at
her husband, knowing that one wrong glance from him could
set her off again.  She made a beeline for the open door
and sensed him fall into step immediately behind her. 

Just before they came within view of the psychiatrist, now
seated inside the room, Mulder leaned in and whispered, "If
we get sent to detention, will you sit next to me so we can
pass notes?"  She bit her lip to avoid smiling and quickly
crossed to an empty chair next to their son.



******
Act IV
******

Mulder/Scully residence
August 7, 2008
9:26 pm

"Daddy?"

Mulder muted the baseball game and looked over to see his
sleepy son lingering in the doorway.  He sat up straight
and turned to watch the boy over the top of the couch. 
"Hey, kiddo.  Did you have another bad dream?"

William just nodded and blinked at him with big, watery
eyes.

Checking his watch, Mulder rose from the couch.  "C'mon,
let's get you back to bed." 

Scully was working late tonight, so it was his turn to deal
with the nightly ritual.  Dr. Stapleton had given a number
of suggestions about how to keep their son in bed for the
whole night, and at the top of the list was to quit
coddling him.  It was questionable whether William was
still having the vivid nightmares that brought them to this
point, or whether this had just become an excuse to stay up
later and get attention.

Meeting his son in the hallway, Mulder placed a gentle hand
on his shoulder and steered him toward the bedroom.  The
light was still off, so he left it that way and held up the
covers for William to climb under by the glow of the
nightlight.  With an efficient tuck and a kiss to the
forehead, Mulder headed for the doorway.

"Daddy?"

Mulder stifled a sigh and tried not to let any impatience
creep into his voice.  This wasn't the first time tonight
they had gone through this dance.  "Yeah?"

"I can't sleep."

Turning to lean on the doorjamb, Mulder regarded William in
the shadows.  The truth was, Mulder was growing weary of
this routine.  He loved his son dearly, and he still hauled
around the guilt from having brought their family dynamics
to this new low, but they seemed to be stuck in a very
tedious rut that he didn't know how to dig out of. 

Thoughts of a bottle of sleeping pills flitted through his
mind, and for one brief moment, he clung to this as a
glimmer of hope.  The counselor had given them a
prescription for William, but Mulder knew if he gave any
pills to the boy, he would be unraveling all the recent
progress in his marriage.  Scully absolutely refused to
medicate her son, and Mulder was already risking her wrath,
having secretly filled the prescription himself and hidden
it in his gym bag.  He was afraid they may be left with no
other recourse and was willing to consider anything, but he
realized now that there had to be another solution.  The
cost of another reckless decision was just too great.

Mulder pushed away from the door and took a seat on the
edge of William's bed.  For a moment, he just sat there
quietly, running his fingers through the boy's strawberry
blond hair.  William looked up at him expectantly, but
Mulder was at a complete loss.  He had never felt so inept
as a father.  His son was looking to him for answers, and
he had none to give.

It was moments like this that the craving hit him.  Just a
little something to relax him, to numb his mind, to make
him forget.  On any other night, he'd be out the door like
a shot and headed for the gym, but tonight he didn't have
that liberty. 

Scanning the room for any sign of inspiration, his eyes
settled on a copy of Moby Dick on top of the dresser. 
Scully had been reading it to William, carrying on the
family tradition.  Mulder rose to retrieve the book.  "This
ought to put him to sleep," he muttered to himself as he
fingered the worn cover.

He flipped on the light and returned to the bed.  "How
about a story?"  William nodded, so Mulder tapped him to
scoot over toward the wall and then stretched out alongside
him on the mattress.  Fishing out the bookmark, he idly
wondered whether Scully censored the text as she read it,
leaving out the parts she deemed too mature for their son. 
Or maybe she added commentary about how this was really a
character study of his old man: "Don't worry if your father
goes missing again, William, he's just whale hunting;
sooner or later he'll come back--with a peg leg."

He pushed such thoughts aside and propped the book open
against his bent legs.  "Chapter thirty-one: Queen Mab."

"Who's Queen Mab?"

Mulder turned to look at his son.  "Well, uh, in Celtic
mythology, she was the Queen Wolf, named for the mead of
feminine wisdom that she served to her consorts.  She was
also called Maeve, associated with the warrior queen of
Irish legend."  His eyes had absently wandered to the
ceiling as he scanned his encyclopedic knowledge for more
details.  "In English folklore, she became the Queen of the
Faeries, or, as Shakespeare described her, the fairies'
midwife who rode her tiny chariot over people's faces while
they slept..." 

His gaze returned to find William's face crinkled in
confusion.  The boy was the spitting image of his mother in
that moment, his expression resembling her "Mulder, you're
crazy" look.

"...Uh, maybe you should ask your mother when she gets
home."  He quickly turned back to the book.  "Okay, chapter
thirty-one. 'Next morning Stubb accosted Flask. "Such a
queer dream, King-Post, I never had. You know the old man's
ivory leg, well I dreamed he kicked me with it; and when I
tried to kick back, upon my soul, my little man, I kicked
my leg right off! And then, presto! Ahab seemed a pyramid,
and I, like a blazing fool, kept kicking at it. But what
was still more curious, Flask--you know how curious all
dreams are--"'"

"Daddy?"

Mulder tilted his head toward his son.  "Yeah, Will?"

"Do you get scared when you have bad dreams?"

The book fell closed over Mulder's finger.  He answered
openly, "Yeah, sometimes I do."

"What do you do?"

Mulder shifted onto his side, letting the book fall to the
mattress between them.  "Well, I try to tell myself that it
wasn't real, that it was just a dream.  Then I look over at
your mother and watch her sleep, or listen to her breathe,
to remind myself that she's alive and safe and right there
next to me.  But, you know, it hasn't always been that way. 
Sometimes she wasn't there." 

He paused and took a deep breath, feeling that he just
couldn't impart the comfort that he wanted to; it wasn't
there to give.  "I wish I could tell you that nothing bad
will ever happen, but I can't promise that.  Life is full
of change, and that's why we have to remember to appreciate
what we have--and the people that we love--every day, and
to never take anything for granted.  But there's one thing
I can promise you, William: your mother and I will always
love you.  That's the one thing in this world that will
never change."

Mulder tried in vain to blink back the tears that were
forming, but one escaped down his cheek.  Pushing the book
aside, he shifted closer to wrap his arms around his son. 
He wanted so badly to make other promises, that no one
would ever hurt him or his mother, that the good guys would
always win, that he himself would never do anything to hurt
him.  But he knew such promises were empty.  His life was a
tapestry of losses and defeats that proved this very point.

More tears followed down the damp tracks on his face. 
Holding the boy close, he murmured into his crown, "I'm
sorry, Will.  I'm so sorry any of this had to happen."  It
was a plea for a lost sister and a once lost partner as
well, for all those he hadn't been able to save.

Mulder leaned back as he felt William's head shift beneath
his.  A small hand came up and began to wipe away the
moisture from his cheek.  "It's okay, Daddy."

The seriousness of his eyes and maturity of his tone robbed
Mulder of his breath for a moment, but then he released it
in a silent chuckle.  There was so much of his mother in
him.  He kissed the boy on the brow and cuddled him close,
letting a comfortable silence blanket them.

It was in this position that Scully found them when she
returned home later, both sound asleep.

*****
*****

The Rhythm & Blues Lounge
August 22, 2008
8:13 pm

Mulder's hand closed over Scully's to keep her from
checking the phone display again.  "Relax.  It's too early
for him to even be in bed yet."

Her fingers twitched to shake his hand free, so he gathered
them up in his loose grasp and rested their entwined hands
next to the cell phone.  But she offered no response,
instead scanning the smoky room from their small table
nestled in a back corner.

Undaunted, he tried a different tactic.  "This is as bad as
the first time we tried to go out for dinner when he was a
baby.  Remember?  Your mom had to tell you to stop calling
to check on him or you were going to wake him up."

One side of her mouth crept up.  It was a promising
sign.

It wasn't that Mulder himself wasn't concerned about
William, but he figured Scully was worrying enough for both
of them.  Their son was spending the night at a friend's
house while they had a night alone together--both events at
the suggestion of their counselors.  It was the first night
William had spent away from home or away from his parents
since the nightmares began, so they were justifiably wary
about how things would go.

A waitress stopped by their table before he could say any
more.  "You ready to order?"

"I'll just have a Coke," Mulder said.

Scully released his hand and leaned her elbows on the
table.  "Make mine a Diet."

With a hand on her arm, Mulder leaned in and offered, "You
can order something stronger, if you want."  When she
didn't immediately respond, he quipped, "I'll be your
designated driver."

Scully looked up at the waitress, still hovering with pen
poised for their final decision.  "Diet Coke is fine."  As
the waitress turned to leave, Scully leaned back in her
seat, her eyes immediately settling on the phone again.

Mulder reached for her hand once more, this time stroking a
finger teasingly over her knuckles.  "Just because I'm a
teetotaler doesn't mean you have to be.  Besides, a glass
of wine might help relax you."

She frowned at him but didn't respond directly to his
statement.  "Are you sure coming to a bar was such a good
idea?"

"We're just here for the band.  C'mon, Scully, how often do
you get to listen to a jazz ensemble comprised entirely of
faculty and grad students?  I keep hearing about them
around campus and thought it might be fun to catch a gig."

She looked less than thrilled.  Mulder was growing a bit
discouraged.  Dinner had been nice, casual but candlelit at
their favorite Chinese place.  But as the evening wore on,
Scully became more and more distracted, her thoughts
clearly on William.  However, the night was as much for
their sake as for their son's.  Since they got William
back, they had been so focused on parenting that they had
begun to lose sight of their marriage.  Nights like this
were practically unheard of now, so he was determined to
make the most of it.

Mulder settled back in his seat, then leaned forward again
when the fake tree behind him began to tickle his ear.  He
thought about moving to another chair but preferred this
seat adjacent to his wife and facing the stage. 

Despite all his efforts, Scully's focus remained on the
phone.  Mulder knew he was taking a big risk, but he
decided to take matters into his own hands, so to speak. 
Reaching across the table, he took hold of the phone, set
it to vibrate, and slipped it into his pocket.

"Mulder--"

He leaned in and kissed her quickly to preempt her protest. 
"I'll make you a deal?"

She eyed him suspiciously before answering.  "What?"

"I promise we'll call and check on William when we get
home, if you promise not to spend the rest of the night
worrying about him."  At her hesitation, he prompted,
"Deal?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, but a suppressed smile danced
at her lips.  "Deal."

Their drinks arrived just as the band returned from their
break and prepared for the next set.  The cozy room was
soon throbbing with a bluesy rhythm.  In such a close
space, the sound was nearly deafening, and Mulder knew that
would be the end of the conversation. 

The pair sipped at their drinks for a while, just content
to enjoy the music.  A few couples began to filter toward
the small area in front of the stage, creating a makeshift
dance floor.  Eyeing them, Mulder got an idea.  Tightening
his grip on Scully's hand, he rose from his seat and tugged
her in his direction.  She quickly caught his gist and
resisted.  "Mulder..."

With one good pull, he brought her to her feet and
careening into him, then turned and dragged her reluctant
form toward the stage.  When he got them positioned in an
empty spot and his arms wrapped around her, he looked down
to meet her glare, and laughed.  He could tell her
annoyance was mostly an act, and that her resolve was
flagging. 

He pulled her in closer and nuzzled her temple as he swayed
them suggestively to the music.  It wasn't really a slow
song, but he didn't let that deter them.  The music soon
shifted, though, and the pace slowed.  Mulder was happy to
note that Scully began to relax in his embrace.

Holding her like this, a peace settled over him, one he
realized he hadn't experienced in quite a while.  Feeling
her melt in his arms, so loving and trusting, he couldn't
believe that he had ever considered sharing such intimate
physical contact with another woman and, in that one
impulsive moment, ruining the best thing he'd ever had. 
His arms tightened around Scully instinctively as he vowed
never to let anything come between them again--least of all
himself.  

They swayed to the sultry tones, letting the saxophone and
bass lull them into a pleasant haze.  As the beat wore on,
Mulder's hands drifted farther south, lower, lower, until
eventually he had a good handful of denim-covered flesh and
gave her a provocative squeeze.  Scully pulled back just
enough to cock an accusing eyebrow at him, but made no move
to evict his hands. 

He took that as encouragement.  Leaning in to be heard over
the music, he spoke directly into her ear.  "What do you
say we go home and have a slumber party of our own--pajamas
optional."

She nuzzled his cheek for a moment, then brushed her lips
over his earlobe.  "Just as long as you hold up your end of
the deal."

"Deal."  He shifted his face toward hers and sealed their
bargain with a kiss.  Before the set had ended, they were
already on their way out the door, driven no longer by the
pulse of the music but by a deeper rhythm throbbing in
their veins.

*****
*****

Chicago, IL
August 23, 2008
9:05 am

Mulder stole a glance at his son while he waited for the
cross-traffic at the intersection.  According to Mrs.
Cooper, the evening had gone just fine, and Mulder was
loathe to bring up any sensitive topics if they were
unnecessary.  Besides, William seemed more interested in
the Game Boy he had borrowed from his friend than in
conversation.

"So, Will, I guess you had a good time last night, huh?"

"Dad, you have to try out this game, it's the coolest.  And
Eddie has this new computer game, too, with jet fighters
and lava men and cyclopses."

"Uh, okay."  Mulder chuckled at the boy's excitement and
focused on the left turn.

"Can I go back to Eddie's tonight?  His mom said they're
having pizza."

"Well, maybe we can talk your mom into having pizza at our
place, okay?"

"Okay."  The response was quiet, and Mulder guessed that
was more from distraction than dejection.

They stopped at another light.  Mulder wanted a chance to
have this conversation before they got home.  He placed a
hand on William's shoulder to get his attention and asked
gently, "How did you sleep?"

William didn't answer right away, but Mulder knew from the
pause of his hands on the game that he'd heard the
question.  The signal turned green and Mulder returned his
hand to the wheel and advanced with the traffic.

"I had a bad dream and woke up, but they were all asleep."

"What did you do?" Mulder prompted.

"I did what the doctor said and remembered a happy time
with Mommy."

"Did it work?"

"I guess so.  I went back to sleep."

Mulder couldn't stifle the grin that emerged.  Maybe they'd
get past this after all.  The spot outside their building
that he'd vacated earlier was still available, and he
pulled the car to a stop along the curb.  William didn't
seem to notice, absorbed again with his game.  Mulder
reached over and ruffled his hair.

"Hey, I'm proud of you, buddy.  You did a good job last
night.  I know your mom will be proud of you too."

One side of William's mouth twitched up into a smile, but
otherwise, he didn't remove his attention from the game. 

"Now, you think you can put that on pause long enough for
us to go inside?"

* * *

Scully was in the kitchen making coffee, just fresh from
the shower, when she heard the front door open.  She'd
tried not to be nervous about their arrival, but the
anxiety from the night before had only been put on hold,
not eliminated entirely, despite the many ways Mulder had
tried to free her mind.

The smile at that thought still lingered on her lips when
her son came bounding into the room.  "Mommy, you've got to
check out this game.  It's so cool.  And Eddie said I could
borrow another one, too.  Can we have pizza tonight?"

Scully grinned at his enthusiasm and briefly met Mulder's
amused look, where he was leaning in the doorway.  "How
about we start with a hug?"

She opened her arms, and William threw himself into her
embrace.  She held him tightly for a long moment, then
kissed his head and pulled back to look into his face. 
"How did it go last night?"

"It was fine.  I woke up, but then I went back to sleep. 
Can I sleep over there again sometime?"

The warmth of relief began to infuse her, finally chasing
the anxiety away.  "If Eddie's mom says it's all right. 
Why don't you go unpack your bag, and then you can tell me
all about it, okay?"

William scampered off to his room.  Scully turned back to
finish with the coffee maker, releasing a deep sigh that
dissipated the rest of her tension.  She heard Mulder's
footsteps behind her, and long arms wrapped around her
waist.  Blissfully, she leaned back into his embrace,
letting herself feel, at last, that maybe things were going
to be okay.  His warm breath tickled her neck, replaced by
the soft press of his lips.  Then his tongue followed,
tracing a line up to her earlobe, while his hands began to
wander from her midsection, one higher, one lower.

"Mulder!" she hissed at him.  "We're not alone anymore."

"So, that means the countertop's out of the question?"

"What, the kitchen table wasn't enough for you?"

She heard him snicker in her ear, and his arms loosened
their grip.  She pivoted in his grasp and rested her hands
on his shoulders.

"I'll never get enough of you," he said softly, on his way
in for a kiss.  The kiss was chaste but lingering, and the
electricity behind it sent a shiver up her spine. 

He pulled back and smiled smugly at her reaction.  She sent
him a chastising glare, tempered by the smile playing at
her lips, then stepped in and rested her head against his
chest.  She heard him sigh contentedly as his chin settled
on the top of her head, and for a moment they just indulged
in the embrace, swaying slightly to a music of their own.

"Do you think we'll make it, Scully?"

She pulled back to catch the expression on his face.  She
considered the question, all the highs and lows they'd been
through over the last few weeks--and the last few years--
before answering decisively and honestly, "Yeah, I do." 
She quickly added, however, "But I don't think it'll be
easy."

He chuckled.  "Since when have we ever done things the easy
way?"

"That doesn't mean we should try to be complicated."

"Life is complicated."  He lifted a hand to her face and
wistfully played with a rogue strand of hair.  "So is
love."

She leaned into his touch.  "Especially love."

His hand stilled.  "I can't make the excuse that I was too
young when we got married, but I don't think I was mature
enough to understand just how much work this would be."

She raised her eyebrows and asked uncertainly, "But it's
worth it?"

His broad smile held nothing back, and she was instantly
reassured.  "Oh yeah, it's definitely worth it."  The smile
turned mischievous, and he leaned in and whispered,
"Especially when you do that thing with your tongue that
nobody else has ever done to me before."

She couldn't suppress her blush, and he snickered,
obviously proud of himself for having such easy control
over her.  There was only one way to wipe that smug grin
off his face: she grabbed his head and pulled him down for
a passionate kiss.

They were busy chasing each other's tongues when small
footsteps entered the room.

"Jeez, you two--get a room."

The pair quickly pulled apart and stared in shock at their
son.  Oblivious, he grabbed a juice box from the fridge and
left.  Scully turned to her husband with suspicion.

"Don't look at me.  I didn't teach him that one."

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

The Emerald Garden
September 16, 2008
7:12 pm

While they waited for the hostess to come show them to
their seats, a pint-sized warrior was practicing his hand
moves.  Mulder jumped back just in time to miss a palm
waving a little too close to his groin.

"Whoa, watch it there, Karate Kid."

"Not karate, Dad.  Tae Kwon Do."  The admonition was
accompanied by an eye roll.  Mulder had a good idea where
William had picked up that habit.

"Well, try to aim your Tae Kwon Do away from the family
jewels."

The hostess showed up just in time to distract Scully from
offering her own eye roll.  The small Vietnamese restaurant
was little more than a converted office in a strip mall,
dressed up with some ethnic decor, but the review in the
Tribune had been raving.

Both the martial arts and the sampling of new eateries were
part of their attempt to rebuild the family.  The Tae Kwon
Do was supposed to give William a sense of empowerment to
build his courage, while the restaurant was part of
building new memories, ones denied him by his
"grandfather."  Since Spender wouldn't be seen in public
with William, the boy had mostly been kept tucked away at
home and thus had very few experiences at restaurants, such
as this one.

The trio took their seats at a table along the far wall. 
Mulder dove into his menu, while Scully leaned over to
William and tried to interest him in one of the chicken
dishes.   

"Hey, Scully, they have a kids' menu on the back."  She
looked at Mulder and then turned the page on her menu, but
William beat her to it. 

"Can I have a hot dog?"

Mulder leaned across the table and said conspiratorially to
his son, "I don't think you want to order anything here
that has the word 'dog' in the title."

"Mulder!"  Scully glanced around to make sure the waitress
hadn't overheard and then glared back at him.  But he just
chuckled at her response, not the least bit chastened.

"Hey, Will, why don't you let your mom order something for
you?  If you don't like it, you can try some of mine."

The boy considered it for a moment, then nodded.  "But no
green stuff."

"Okay," Mulder agreed, "no green stuff."

Scully gave him a look but withheld comment. 

The waitress came to take their orders and departed again;
no sooner had she left than the muted ring of a cell phone
sounded.  Scully leaned over and reached for her jacket,
hanging on the back of her chair.

"Work?" Mulder asked.

She checked the display and then shut the phone off. 
"Yeah.  Probably the lab results I asked them to rush." 
She glanced up to meet his questioning look.  "It can wait
until after dinner."  The words were simple, but the
message was clear: This was family time--it took top
priority.

When her hand returned from replacing the phone in her
pocket, he reached across the table and wrapped it in his
own.  She squeezed his hand back, and they shared a warm
smile.  He didn't release her grasp as he turned to their
son, who was trying to make origami with his napkin.

"So, Will, tell us what you learned in class today."

The boy launched into a detailed reply, but the words
bypassed Mulder's ears.  His focus was fixed on the warmth
of Scully's hand in his, the light in William's eyes as he
shared his enthusiasm, and the feeling of utter joy in his
heart from having such a simple moment as this.  There had
been times in his life, even not so long ago, when Mulder
thought he could never have this again.  He wanted to
catalogue every sensation, every second, and hold on to
them like buried treasure. 

Mulder had told his son never to take anything for granted. 
Least of all the love of those who are precious to you.  It
was time for him to listen to his own advice. 

If love was worth more than gold, he was the richest man in
the world.


*******
THE END
*******


Author's notes:  It took me much longer than I had hoped,
but I finally finished this third part, and with it, the
whole trilogy.  Going back and rereading the first two
installments has been a lesson for me in how my writing has
changed over the past couple of years.  Whether for better
or for worse, let the reader be the judge.  But thank you
for sharing the journey with me, especially those of you
who poked along the way, and those who are still interested
enough in this little universe to be reading the third
part.  Now, I am happy to call this universe complete and
move on to other fics.


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