Title: Family Ties Author: Nikki written February 1998 Rating: PG Category: angst, M/S friendship, UST Keywords: Mulder, Scully, Samantha, death, friendship Summary: Unexpected news about Samantha threatens to change Mulder and Scully's lives forever. Archive: Anywhere, as long as my info stays attached. Spoilers: Quagmire, Home, Redux II, Emily Feedback: Yes, oh yes!!! I will not get better at this if you don't tell me what did and didn't work. (But please don't tell me how farfetched this is, I already knew that--it is fiction after all.) nikoleaw@aol.com Disclaimer: At last check, Mulder, Scully, T. Mulder, The Smoking Man, Emily Sims, Skinner, Samantha Mulder and Family still belonged to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox. (Granted, I took some liberties with their names, but hey, I'm not the one who changed Samantha's middle initial from T. to A, without warning!) Officers Witpek and Sikes and Lynn Kingston are mine, but you can borrow them if you ask nicely. This is written and distributed for fun, not profit and no harm is intended. Thanks to Carly, Gerry, Sylvia and Traci. She sighed as she wiped her paint-splattered forearm across her sweaty forehead. Only as an afterthought did she wonder if she might have just inadvertently wiped paint into the hair that had escaped from her ponytail to rest on her face. "Umm. Mulder, why are we doing this again?" "Because, I was out of town when they came through and painted all of the units. They couldn't get through all of my locks so they couldn't get in to paint mine. The landlord said there's some health and safety ordinance that requires that all units be painted at least once every five years. So, unless I want a bunch of guys I don't know trooping through here, I have to do it myself." Scully shook her head and continued to sweep her brush back and forth against the kitchen doorframe in short, even, strokes. As if of its own accord, her eyebrow lifted itself, just fractionally, as she quirked up the corners of her mouth and asked, "Well, how come I get the hard part when it's your apartment?" Mulder looked down at her from his perch on the stepladder and grinned. "Hard part?! You're doing the trim! I'm the one breaking my back to get to the ceiling!" "Yeah, but you have the easy paint. I hate this semi-gloss stuff, if you don't put it on just right, it looks funny." Mulder stopped and looked at her. "Scully, I don't know what you do in your free time, but I don't go around checking out how well painted the trim in my apartment is." She dipped just the tip of her brush into her paint tray and then turned and flicked the paint off of the brush at him. Since he was standing on the second step of a small step ladder, she was only able to hit him in the ankle. As she saw the burst of eggshell colored paint land on his already speckled navy sweat pants and his mock indignant expression, she couldn't help but smile. Further commentary was halted by an insistent pounding on the door. "Scully, I'm kinda indisposed at the moment, can you get that? Whatever they've got, I don't want it." She set her brush down on the corner of the paint pan and went to the door. Looking through the peephole, she saw the all-too-familiar uniforms of the Alexandria Police. She unlocked the door and an officer stepped forward. "Hello ma'am. We're looking for a Mr. Fox William Mulder." Scully didn't move to let them in, instead asking, "What is this regarding?" The officer was not deterred by Scully's firm stance. Smelling the fresh paint, and seeing the furniture and floors covered with sheets, the officer began to worry that perhaps a move had occurred. "Is this the Mulder residence? Is Mr. Mulder available?" "Yes...but I'd like to know what this is about." Mulder walked up behind Scully and looked at the officers. "Are you Mr. Fox William Mulder?" "Yes. Why, what's happened?" "I'm Officer James Witpek and this is my partner, Officer Sikes. We're here as part of a cooperative agreement with the Westchester County, New York coroner's office. I'm afraid that we have some unfortunate news for you, sir." Mulder put his hand on Scully's shoulder and drew her back into the apartment, giving the officers enough room to enter, and giving him the reassurance that she was there, would be there for whatever disaster they were about to lay at his feet. "Do you know a Samantha Anne Thorstein Martin?" Mulder's face screwed up into a perplexed look. "Mulder. Her name is Samantha Anne Thorstein Mulder. She's my sister." The officer noted Mulder's refusal to accept his sister's married name and briefly wondered what controversy lay at the heart of this family. At the moment, however, had a sorrowful task to perform. "She and her husband, Phillip Martin were killed in an auto accident. They were hit head on by a car being driven by an intoxicated teenager. All of those involved in the accident were killed instantly." Mulder's grip on Scully's shoulder tightened tremendously. She gasped, both from the shock of the words she had just heard as well as from the pain in her shoulder. "When did this happen? Where is she? I have to get to her!" Mulder let go of Scully, turned and strode briskly through his apartment, intent on packing a bag and getting to Samantha as quickly as possible. "Mr. Mulder, sir, calm down. The accident occurred yesterday morning. Mr. and Mrs. Martin are at the Westchester County morgue, where they will remain until you sign the appropriate papers to have their bodies released. It took them until this morning to acquire all of Mrs. Martin's personal documents and locate your name and address within them. "Mr. and Mrs. Martin had listed one Lynn Kingston as their next of kin to contact in case of an emergency. So of course, she was notified and the children, one Felicia, age 3 and one Steven, age 5, were left in her care. However, she did at that time mention to the officers that Mrs. Martin had recently informed her of a long-estranged brother, and that she and Mrs. Martin had discussed and filed the appropriate paperwork to cede custody of the children over to you should anything happen. Ms. Kingston, while apparently a very close friend of the Martins, is a fairly recent widow who is a bit overwhelmed with six children of her own. It was at Ms. Kingston's urgings that the Westchester police searched the Martin house to locate the documents relating to the care of the children. The documents were located, the names, addresses and signatures verified and everything was couriered down here. As soon as it all arrived, we were dispatched to notify you." The other officer silently held out a large manila envelope. The senior officer took the envelope from his partner, then reached into his breast pocket and removed a card which he placed on top of the envelope. "Again, I'm Officer James Witpek. This is my name and the main desk number here. You can call me if there's anything we can do on our end." He turned the card over and pointed to a series of names and numbers scrawled across it, "I wrote down the name and number of the lady from the Westchester County coroner's office. You'll need to talk to her to arrange for the disposition of the bodies. Under her name, is the woman from Child Welfare, who you'll need to talk to about getting everything squared away with the children. This is the number for Lynn Kingston, the next of kin I told you about, and this is the name and main desk number for the Officer in charge of your sister's case." Mulder stared at him as if he wasn't there, prompting Scully into action. She took the proffered card. "Thank you. We appreciate your coming here. I know how difficult a job it is. We'll call if we have any other questions or need anything." She moved the officers forward and had the door closed and locked behind them before they could say anything more. She took a deep breath and steeled herself to turn around. Silently, she walked back into the apartment and held out the envelope and card to Mulder. She noted the steadiness of his hand as he took the items from her, and she willed the tremors in her own hands to cease. He walked to the window and stood there and looked out. He watched the officers get into their patrol car and drive away before he made any attempt to open the envelope. Peering inside, he saw a business sized linen envelope with only his name written on it. Ignoring it, he removed the other documents from the envelope and laid them out on top of the sheet that was covering his computer desk. A copy of Samantha's will, recently modified, a copy of Phillip's will, and a notarized document regarding the custody of their two children in the event of their deaths. He then slowly withdrew the smaller envelope. He placed his finger under one edge and gently pried the envelope open. He withdrew the folded paper from the envelope and gently sat on the tarp covered couch, heedless of the small paint puddle he sat on. "Dear Fox, As I write this, I am praying desperately that you will never have cause to read it. I know that you don't understand why I pushed you away, why I asked you not to look for me anymore. Please, try to understand, that what you were telling me, what you were asking me to believe conflicted too strongly with all that I knew, all that I was and am. My father was not the evil man that you believed him to be. He loved me and cared for me. I am certain that if he knew of your search for me and kept us apart longer than you would have liked, that it was simply out of his desire to protect me. Please know that I never doubted that you were indeed my brother. Although I have few memories of my childhood, I do remember you and I know that we loved each other. I have recently amended my will to reflect that in the event that something should occur to Phillip and I, that you should be given custody of our children, Felicia and Steven. Phillip was an only child of a couple who had him late in life. Both of his parents have passed away. My father was brutally murdered the day after you and I met. My best friend, Lynn, had been our original choice as guardian for the children, but the recent death of her husband and her struggles to care for her own kids, forced us to reevaluate that decision. I chose you and Phillip agreed. Partially because you are my brother and hence, uncle to the children, but mainly because, I believe that you will love them as no one else can. You showed your devotion to me and to our family through your search for me. You demonstrated your love by letting me go. That night, after we left, my father said that you were a white knight, looking for a kingdom to save. Please, let my children be your kingdom. Give them the love and affection that they need. I know it won't be easy. I'm asking a lot of you. And raising children, even ones as good as Felicia and Steve, isn't easy. It's hard to know just how much love to give, when to say no and when to let them learn on their own. But I believe that you can do it. I know that you said that mom was still alive. I never got the courage to contact her. If you're reading this, it's too late. Please tell her that I loved her. Thank you Fox. For never giving up your hope of finding me, for respecting my wishes to be left alone, for loving me and, I hope, my children, as if they were your own and for being my brother. Samantha" Tears silently tracked their way down Mulder's face as he carefully laid the letter out on a clean space on the covered coffee table in front of him. He rose and walked towards his bedroom, swallowing audibly, and forcing himself not to break into sobs as he said, "I have to pack." Scully had stood quietly in the middle of the livingroom as he went through the contents of the envelope. As he'd read the letter, she walked to his desk and reviewed the documents he'd left behind. His reaction to the news of his sister's death, and of her proximity to him all this time was not right and it disturbed her. Where were his demands for an autopsy? For proof that this woman, whomever she was, was really his sister? She had traveled with him on his journey to find her, to uncover the truth of what happened on the night she was taken--she knew the depth of emotion it stirred within him, the ferocity of his need to know. She knew how shattered she felt at the news of Samantha's death--this was not how she'd ever envisioned finding out Samantha's whereabouts. She began to worry about his low-key reaction, that Mulder was shutting himself off, heading for another catatonic state, as he had done when Samantha had first been taken. ____________ He was throwing things into a bag without thought. He'd forced his tears to stop, telling himself that he had more important things to take care of. He didn't hear her approach him from behind. "You knew. You knew she was alive...you saw her...talked to her." Scully's voice was full of hurt and bewilderment. She knew that this was supposed to be Mulder's time, his time to think and to grieve, but this news was too big, it had too many implications to be put off. She needed to know the truth and she needed to know it now, before Mulder had any more time to think about it, to soften its edges, to further "protect" her. Her words sounded harsher than she'd intended them to. "You knew, and you never said a word. How long had you known? How many more dirty little secrets do you have, Mulder?!" She demanded of him. Mulder stopped packing and momentarily hung his head. He'd wanted her to know, but even at the end, he hadn't the courage to tell her. So he'd left the letter out in plain view, knowing that she would read it and come to him demanding answers. Answers that he still didn't know if he was prepared to give. Refusing to turn around and face her, he began. "I saw her...that night...the night before your cancer went into remission. The Smoking Man...her father...brought her to me. She and your remission...she was supposed to be...the final inducement for my joining his side. She didn't want to see me. She didn't want to believe that she'd been lied to about her family, about me, my search for her. She didn't want anything to do with me. Told me to stop looking for her...that if she wanted to talk to me again, she'd find me. I was going to tell you, that night...but you were asleep, and you looked so pale and weak...and I.....then, you were in remission and the Smoking Man was supposedly killed and...it just didn't seem that important right then." Scully's eyes were ablaze. "Not. That. Important. Our lives for the last six years have been consumed by this, this quest, to find your sister, to find out what happened to her, to find the truth. She was the key to your truth! You found a woman who claimed to be her and you thought that it wasn't that important?!?" Suddenly, a thought clicked into place. Her next words were out before she'd had a chance to think about what their effect might be. "She didn't know anything about your alien abduction hypothesis did she? All she knew was that some all-too-human men came and took her and performed all kinds of painful and hideous procedures on her! Didn't she?!!! Didn't she??!!! That's what happened, isn't it, Mulder? That's why you didn't want to tell me...because you were embarrassed and ashamed, that all that we've suffered these past few years was for nothing!!!!" Scully was shocked by both the force of her anger as well as the wellspring of carefully hidden emotions that was underneath it. Pain. Hurt. Relief. Betrayal. Love. Mulder turned around and faced her. His face and voice were chillingly devoid of emotion. "I didn't tell you at first because you were dying. And then, then you went into remission. You had a life to look forward to, and I had you...She didn't want me in her life, didn't want to be in mine, but you were going to be ok. At the time, it made everything with Samantha seem less important. I had a choice to make Scully, I'm sorry if my choice was wrong." The meaning of his words struck her like a slap in the face. Her remission had made finding Samantha less important. She had, for that brief moment in time, replaced Samantha and in a sense the truth, in the center of what she had once called, "his megalomaniacal cosmology." Her rage dissipated as quickly as it had appeared to be replaced by, an overwhelming sadness mixed with fear. Sadness over Samantha's death, over the grief that Mulder was keeping inside. Fear of what had happened to them, was happening to them and of what was to come. "Mulder..." Wearily, she sat on the edge of his bed amongst his scattered clothing. "...you should have told me. I wanted...this wasn't just about you. It was *our* quest. I wanted to know the truth about Samantha too." "No, Scully. She was *my* sister. Finding her was *my* quest. You were just unlucky enough to get caught up in it." "That's not true. I stuck with you because I wanted to. Because I believed in the truth and in your search for it. Because I wanted to be there with you and for you when you found the truth, regardless of what it was....I guess you're not the only one who chose poorly." Mulder looked at her for a moment longer and then resumed his packing. The sadness in her last words slicing through him like a razor, leaving behind a sharp and stinging pain to add to his ever-growing collection. He zipped his bag shut and hefted it off the bed, walking through the apartment and setting it on the floor near the door. He went through the apartment, making certain that all windows were closed and electrical appliances turned off. He recapped the paint cans and took the pans and brushes to the sink, where he turned on the faucet let the water cascade over them. Scully went into the living room and picked up his phone. She was just hanging up when he reentered the room. She spoke with a quiet resolve. It was a tone he was accustomed to. It was the one they both used after a particularly harrowing case. The one that acknowledged all of the things left unsaid and screamed of their desire to simply go on as if nothing had happened. "I left a message for Skinner. I told him that a family emergency came up and that it involves Samantha. We'd be gone for at least a week. I've booked us on a 5 o'clock United flight to New York and arranged for us to pick up a rental car at JFK." She walked towards the door, stopping to take her coat out of the closet, where they'd put it earlier to keep it from getting any paint on it. "I'm going home to pack. I'll met you at the United counter." Looking at him with just a hint of her usual wryness, she said, "I recommend that you change before you leave, otherwise they might not let you on the plane." "Scully,...you don't need to go..." Her tone was patient, forgiving. "Yes, Mulder, I do. You've kept too much from me. I won't allow you to keep this away as well. I need to see her, to know for certain that it really is Samantha, that the search really is over. And I think someone needs to be there for her children, to explain to them what happened and what's going to happen to them. And, you'll probably need some help getting things straightened out with Child Welfare, making certain that they get put in the right type of home, investigating potential guardians." A part of Mulder's mind idly wondered just why Scully's moods suddenly seemed so volatile, raging at him one minute and worried about his sister's children the next. He thought back to how he'd behaved when Emily was dying, making silly faces for her one minute and nearly killing the man responsible for her suffering the next. He remembered how he'd made a conscious effort at the time to not examine his motives and the emotions behind them too carefully. He decided to give Scully the same leeway. Suddenly, the meaning of her words sank in. Mulder stopped his ponderings and stared at her. "What?" "Mulder, you're going to have a million details to deal with. Arranging the funerals, letting your mother know what's happened, you won't have the time to thoroughly investigate potential adoptive families." "I don't need to. The kids are staying with me. I'll stay in Westchester with them until I find a bigger place and work out how to get them enrolled in school and all that other stuff here." Despite all that had happened, Scully was shocked, and it showed. "Mulder, do hear what you're saying? Do you have any idea what you're saying? These are children, Mulder. Children, who need a good, stable, loving home environment. Above all, that's what Samantha wanted for them. Do you really believe that you're the person to give that to them?" "She asked me to, Scully. I have to. I owe it to her. And I owe it to myself." Scully's tone was sympathetic. "Mulder, despite what she may have written in her will, no Social Service agent in their right mind will allow you to have custody of those children. You're an FBI agent, constantly in danger, a nearly 40 year old single male from a broken home, who's never had a stable relationship." "That's not true." She looked at him questioningly. "There's us. We've been together six years. Our profession forces us to be closer in some ways and to trust each other more than most married couples ever do." She laughed ruefully. She threw her hands up. "Look at us. Right now. I'd hardly call this stable." "I'd do it for you. I did. Even though I didn't think it was the best thing to do, I knew how much you wanted Emily, and I stood by you." Her face took on a distant look. "Mulder,..." His name was an exasperated cry. "You went in there and told them a fantastic tale that even I could hardly believe. Only at the end did you emphasize your belief that I would make a suitable mother. And I have to question how seriously they could take your character reference after the story you told." He said nothing. Simply stood by the edge of the couch and considered her. Her eyes conveyed a sadness that she refused to allow into her words. "Mulder, I'm sorry, but I don't think that being with you will be good for those children." "What about you?" "What about me?" "Would being with you be good for them?" "Mulder, this isn't about me or you. It's about those kids..." "I know that. That's why I'm asking. Do you think that you could provide a good home for them? With my help?" "Mulder, don't do this. Not now. I can't..." She shook her head at him. Mulder was emboldened by what he saw in her eyes--fear tinged with hope--a hope that she had forbid herself, but which was there nonetheless. "Scully, please....I mean, you've said you wanted kids. Well here are two of them. Good kids, who've just had a terrible tragedy in their lives. They need love and warmth and, and all of the things that I think you can give them. That I can give them. And...and...and I think that Samantha would've wanted it that way. That she would've liked you and that she'd be happy knowing that her kids are in your care." She had at least a hundred potential reponses in mind, all of which dealt with yet another reason why the children needed to placed within a real family. But this time, she thought about Mulder, about the encouragement that he seemed to derive from being told that something was the "wrong" thing to do. She knew that he just needed to keep moving forward, that eventually, he would do the right thing. She kept her voice neutral as she responded. "I thought you were going to help." "*Our* care. Does that mean you'll do it?" Mulder's eyes and voice were intensely focused on her. Her posture screamed of her need to get away from him. To have some time to herself to think through what had just happened and what it all meant. Her mental exhaustion was evident as she quietly replied, "No, Mulder. It doesn't mean anything...look, I have to go if I'm gonna meet you on time." She opened the door and stepped into the hallway. He called after her, "Scully,...will you at least think about it?" The elevator arrived and he barely caught her words as she stepped in and allowed the door to slide shut in front of her. "Yes, Mulder. I will." The End.