Title: Generations 12. Mother-In-Law
Authors: Juliett and Macspooky
Series: Generations
October 1995
Rated: R
102K
Category: XRA
Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance. Skinner/Mrs. Scully romance.

Summary: Scully is sent to Martha's Vineyard as the pathologist on a case where the bodies of several children have been found buried in the woods. One is possibly Samantha. Mulder follows and Dana is given a first hand view of just how dysfunctional Mulder's family life has truly been.

Here is the next installment of Generations. Things definitely got out of hand! 15 Chapters! I even tried a real case this time around, probably its weakest link. It introduces some new, and I hope fun, characters for everyone to enjoy.

ALL THESE CHARACTERS ARE FICTIONAL AND ANY RESEMBLENCE TO THOSE LIVING OR DEAD IS UNINTENDED. Some of the places are fictional as well, although Mad Martha's and the ferry company are real. Something else marvelous happened too. I ended up taking on a cowriter, Juliettt, who was editing for me and sent me a chapter she wrote for fun. It was so beautiful, and fit so well, that we decided to finish the story together. It's been fun, and I think her writing added wonderful insight to my new characters at a time when I was floundering. I won't give away any more here. Anyway, "X-Files" and it's characters still belong to CC, 1013, Fox, et. al and I'm, no, we, are still borrowing them. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit being made except by them (I hope because then they will keep it going). A brief thanks to Windsinger for letting me run my initial plot line by her. It was appreciated. All comments can be addressed to Juliettt or Macspooky @aol.com I absolutely promise that my next stories are going to be upbeat and happy! Thank you for bearing with me while the Mulder's go through a down phase. It's life! Rated R for adult situations. Story completed by Juliettt and Macspooky 9/2/95.

Chapter I

Dana was tired and cranky. It had been a long, hard day at work.

She had had to go down to Quantico in the morning and teach a class.

She had returned to Washington around mid- day and had then had to perform two autopsies on an emergency basis because another pathologist was out sick. She hadn't had any lunch, and her head was pounding. She came in the door to see two of Mulder's jackets tossed over the back of the chair, yesterday's and today's. There was a mess of sunflower seeds on the end table near what had once been her chair.

They were spilling over unto the floor. Two empty beer bottles sat nearby. Her husband was stretched out in the recliner in jeans and a t-shirt, with the newspaper. He looked pretty damn sexy with his five o'clock shadow. The jeans were awfully tight. He looked very good in tight jeans. Hell, he looked better without them. To her, he looked best in absolutely nothing. She felt her skin begin to tingle at the thought of her husband wearing nothing. She did not smell anything cooking, however. Since it was his night to cook, and since she was starving, this did not bode well. It made her forget how he looked in tight jeans, or without them, for the moment.

"Hi, sweetheart," he said giving her his best Mulder grin. He was about to ask her what restaurant she would like to eat at, since he wasn't very good at cooking and hated it anyway. He looked at her with frank admiration. She was looking really sexy in the short skirt he had seen her pull out of the closet that morning, a little too sexy. Once, he had made the mistake of suggesting that she not wear the newly fashionable short skirts. The suggestion had gone over like a lead balloon. He had had to do a lot of hugging and kissing then, and a lot of explaining that he just didn't like other men looking at her, that he wanted to keep her all to himself, to smooth her ruffled feminist feathers. She didn't like possessiveness and had reminded him smugly that he had always had her to himself. Her point had been well taken. It was the truth.

"Enough of that, Mulder," he admonished himself in order to get his mind off her beautiful body. He had been good. He hadn't touched her in nearly three months. God, it was hard. He wanted her so badly. He could feel the ache in his groin. His jeans got suddenly tighter. Still, he wasn't going to do anything to risk hurting her again, anything at all. He had promised himself. Fox still woke up with nightmares in which he saw her lying on Skinner's floor in a pool of blood. It wasn't worth it. No matter how wonderful making love was, it wasn't worth losing her over. If Dr. Chan had said she shouldn't get pregnant for three months, he would not risk doing anything to put her in that condition. They had already had a birth control failure. Condoms could break. Fox only wished she appreciated his sacrifice more.

Mulder knew he was in trouble when she put her hands on her hips and glared. Lately the tension between them was growing unbearable.

Neither of them slept well, and Dana seemed miserable and unhappy.

She had been very cranky. He knew why. He had, as he frequently teased her, created a monster. The woman he so fondly called "Shorts"

enjoyed their sex life immensely, and now she missed it. They said after you had been married awhile, passion died down, but in her case, the more time that passed, the greater Dana's passion for him seemed to grow. The more it grew, the deeper his love for her became. It was scary sometimes. He wasn't sure he liked having that much power over her. He knew himself. It was too easy for a guy like him to hurt her, not meaning to, but just because he was the way he was sometimes. He hadn't forgotten the way he had gone off the deep end just before Christmas and caused her so much anxiety. Dana Katherine Mulder was the last person in the world he ever wanted to injure, but because their relationship was so intense, she would be the first person who would get hurt.

"goddamn it, Fox, why the hell is this place such a mess, and where the hell is dinner?"

"Hey, it's not a mess," he replied. To him the pile of sunflower seeds didn't seem particularly large. She was just too damn fussy sometimes.

"And just what do you call that?" she inquired pointing at the seeds and the beer bottles.

"Shells and beer bottles?" he replied rising to his feet. She was aggravating him now. He was pretty cranky himself these days.

"And, what do you call these?" she asked him tossing the jackets that she had picked up in his direction. They landed on the floor, annoying her more.

"My jackets."

"Well, hang them up, and vacuum up the seeds," she ordered. She had promised herself on the day they got married, she would never make an issue of the jackets, but the promise was momentarily forgotten.

She glanced in the direction of the parrot he had bought her, ostensibly as her birthday gift, who now sat in the corner happily scattering feathers and even more seeds. It was a far cry from the emerald earrings of the year before. Try as she might not to, she hated that bird, or rather the bird hated her. In spite of the fact that Mulder called it Krycek, she knew it must be female. It adored Mulder. It would sit on his finger and pluck sunflower seeds from between her husband's lips endlessly, but let Dana go near it, and it shrieked and screamed at a decibel level that was unbelievable for a creature it's size. Once it had even bitten her hard enough to draw blood when she was putting food in its cage. "And while you are at it, you can vacuum up after Phoebe," she continued in her best Gestapo voice, the one that always brought out the "better" aspects of her husband's nature.

"His name is Krycek." Fox was suddenly angry.. She was being a real bitch tonight, and he hadn't, in his opinion, done anything to deserve it. Didn't he love her more than anything in the world?

Wasn't he always telling her so? What the hell did she want from his life?

"Her name is Phoebe." It was a stupid argument, but Dana didn't care at that point. She wanted a neat house and dinner, not to mention sex.

"What the hell is your problem tonight, Scully?" he demanded.

"What's my problem ? It's the one that you don't have because YOU take LONG showers every morning ,while I go to work every day feeling miserable." That hurt. He had been taking long, cold showers every morning. Fair was fair. He wouldn't leave her feeling miserable alone. If it had been anyone else but Mulder, he would have told her that and diffused her temper, but of course, he didn't. He just glared at her for a moment looking dark and forbidding, a fact which wasn't frightening her in the least at the present time.

"Dana, we've had this argument before. Amy said we should wait at least three months before..."

"Before I got pregnant again. She didn't say you couldn't touch me."

"Well, three months isn't quite up yet, and even so, you should appreciate the sacrifice I'm making ,and stop being such a bitch." He hoped he sounded genuinely hurt. Dark and forbidding wasn't doing it tonight. Hurt worked better on her sometimes.

"Damn you, Fox Mulder..." Dana was suddenly furious and close to tears. She picked up a nearby vase, and in a fit of redheaded Irish temper, threw it at him. She was tired. She was hungry. Her head hurt. She was sick of her formerly immaculate house being a mess.

The bird drove her nuts, and last but not least, she was horny. She had gotten used to him, gotten used to making love to him nearly every night. No, it was more than that. He still sent jolts of electricity through her. She wanted him. She needed him, needed to be loved by him, especially now, especially after losing the baby, and he didn't seem to understand.

Fortunately for Mulder, he was athletic. He easily caught the vase.

"You know, you aren't the only man in the world," she threatened.

She didn't mean it. God, she would never think of going to bed with another guy. The very thought made her skin crawl. She knew she was being a bitch. She just didn't seem to be able to stop herself.

"F --k Krycek for all I care," he roared throwing the vase back at her. He may not have had red hair, but he certainly had a temper that matched if not surpassed hers. Just the thought of her with another guy made him crazy. He hated that threat. She had used it once before, in a fit of anger, right before they had gotten married.

He hadn't appreciated it then. He certainly didn't appreciate it now.

Dana ducked as it flew past her head. It crashed into the wall adjoining their nextdoor neighbor with a loud thud and shattered. In ducking, Dana managed to knock over her favorite planter, a large, heavy clay pot, containing a beautiful Jade plant. It landed with a crash and broke, spilling dirt all over, just as Krycek began to shriek for the very first time, the words Fox had been so patiently been teaching him, "Help, murder. Help, murder. Help, murder."

It took Dana nearly five minutes to get rid of the nice policemen who knocked on the door. She told them, giving them her prettiest smile, that the only one that was going to get killed was the goddamned parrot, whose neck she was going to ring if he yelled "help, murder"

one more time. The officers said they thought it would be justifiable homicide and returned to their patrol car with something to talk about, smirking all the way.

Dana broke out the vacuum cleaner. She knew that the only way the mess was going to get cleaned up was if she did it herself.

Leaning against the dining room table surveying the scene, she felt herself getting angry all over again. Seeing the look on her face, Fox decided he better do some sweet talking, try his best little boy grin, find a way to placate her, or his life wasn't going to be worth living. It also occurred to him that his wife was beautiful when she was mad, beautiful and sexy. He approached her to try to talk to her, but Dana Scully had learned a lot since she had gotten married. Hell, she had had a good teacher. Before he knew it, she had hopped up on the table and wrapped her arms and legs around him, pulled his mouth down to hers and inserted her tongue between his lips. He realized that his wife was not only ready to resume mating, but was, in fact, truly desperate to do so. There was no way he was going to get out of it. He was melting. Hell, he didn't want to get out of it. His brain was no longer in control. The fight of the decade ended quickly in a moment of ecstasy, with Dana doing what he teasingly called her Bridget Feeney screaming act, and a loud crash, as the dining room table, the one with the loose leg she had been asking him to fix for two months, collapsed with a bang that shook the apartment like an earth quake, just as Krycek once again resumed screaming "help, murder" at the top of his little parrot lungs.

They burst out laughing with relief, not to mention the ludicrousness of the situation. Dana observed that her butt was going to be black and blue for at least a week. He told her that it was her own damn fault for wanting him to be on top all the time. It was no more than she deserved for making him do it to her on top of the dining room table instead of restraining herself until they could go to bed. She countered that he had done it with her, not to her, and she did not scream like Bridget Feeney. Of course, she knew she did sometimes, but was never going to admit it. They were laughing so hard, it came as a big surprise when there was once again a loud knock at the door. This time it took Dana ten minutes to convince the same nice policemen that no crime was being committed. What finally did it was she brought her hand out from behind her back, revealing a pair of torn flimsy purple panties. They realized then that it wasn't murder.

It was marital mayhem that had ended in domestic bliss.

"Put a cover over the bird cage and go to bed," admonished the younger of the two officers. They said they would not be back that night under any circumstances and left, snickering, with something really great to discuss with their buddies in the donut shop.

Fox and Dana decided that the mess could wait. They called the "take out taxi" and had their favorite Chinese food delivered. They then threw a sheet over an insulted Krycek's cage, and when dinner came, retired to the bedroom and fed each other with chopsticks between various positional experiments. Their relationship was back on track. Their normal passion and tenderness had returned. Fox admitted ,finally, that the bird had really been a new toy for him since he had given his fish tank to Michael, and that he hadn't been able to think of anything else creative to get her for her birthday.

Dana confessed that she could get to like it, if only it didn't always try to bite her when she fed it. It was insulting. He told her that the showers he took every morning were ice cold and that he hated it.

She whispered in his ear that she loved him, and needed him, needed what he left inside her to feel complete. Her words made him feel wonderful and manly. He gave her a final kiss. They snuggled down, as they had always done before the miscarriage. Before they fell into a deep contented sleep, Dana whispered to him that she hoped there would be a baby inside her, and that he shouldn't be afraid. Their bed had once again become a haven against the outside world and the horrors they encountered in their work. They would wake up in the morning, and life would once again be good.

Assistant Director Walter Skinner sat in his office, the phone pressed to his ear, and listened carefully. He knew he had a problem.

There was no way that he could keep Mulder off of this one, and no way that he could assign him either.

"Alright," he said into the phone, "fax me the relevant materials. Yes, yes, I'll send you the best forensic pathologist we have. Yes, I understand...right...Goodbye."

Skinner hung up the phone and sighed. He supposed he should have been grateful that he had been contacted first. None-the-less, his head was already starting to pound. A mass grave had been found by a hiker trespassing in a wooded area on Martha's Vineyard, land that belonged to a retired Senator, a man who still had clout. The grave was hiding the bodies of at least ten children, perhaps more. The investigation had just begun. The bodies hadn't even been fully excavated yet, and it was already hitting the fan. Martha's Vineyard meant mega bucks. Martha's Vineyard mean powerful politicians with Irish last names.

Fox Mulder had been born on Martha's Vineyard. Fox Mulder's little sister Samantha had disappeared without a trace from Martha's Vineyard when she was only eight years old. The case had never been solved.

"Yes," thought Walter Skinner, "even without the money and the politicians, the egos and the power trips, it was already hitting the fan." There was no way he could keep Fox Mulder away from Martha's Vineyard. With a sigh, he signed a blank form authorizing his spookiest agent to take leave without pay and called Dr. Dana Scully, one of the best forensic pathologists he knew, the best at her job, and the best at keeping Special Agent Fox Mulder in line. It was the best compromise he could think of. One of these days, he would have peace. He thanked the heavens that he was eligible to retire. He thought about it more and more these days. One day soon, he and Meg would take that final step and tie the knot. When they did, he wanted some peace and some time to spend with her. One of these days...Walter Skinner reached into his draw and took out two Excedrin. He would have to call Meg later and let her know what was going on. She would never forgive him if he didn't.

Unfortunately, by the time Dana got home to start packing for the trip to the Vineyard, Fox already knew. His mother had called him, begging him to come, telling him that she didn't think she could stand it if he wasn't there. She didn't think any of the bodies could be Samantha. Samantha was already dead, but she still needed him. The reporters were driving her crazy. The mother who never really seemed to want to see him was suddenly frantic for his presence. Fox, of course, couldn't be kept away in anycase. He was already packing when Dana arrived.

"Where are you going?" Fox inquired as she took out her suitcase.

He knew he wouldn't be assigned to the case, but he planned to take leave and haunt the agent in charge anyway.

"To Martha's Vineyard, of course," she said looking at him. She had tried to embrace him when she had come home, but he had pushed her away. Dana knew he had already been told the moment she had seen his face. She could already see that he was retreating into his shell, away from her, and she didn't want to let it happen.

"Well, you can't go," he informed her.

"Fox, I've been assigned as the forensic pathologist on the case at Skinner's request. I have to go." She didn't understand this.

She would have thought he would have wanted her there.

"Well, get yourself unassigned."

"I will not, Fox," she replied softly. "We might be talking about your sister here, sweetheart. I don't want anyone else touching those bodies." Dana knew that one way or another, Fox was going to wind up devastated by this. If Samantha was in that grave, it would mean that the much of his adult life had been a futile search for an already dead girl. He would grow very angry, because they had both seen the clone, and he would know that there was no way Sam could have been the victim of a simple mass murderer. He would once again, however, never be able to prove it. They were too clever for that. If his sister wasn't in that grave, his search would continue, but there would be no closure, and that would hurt in it's own way.

"It's not your problem."

"It's my goddamn job," she snapped, but then calmed herself.

"Fox, you know the people we deal with are very clever. If someone made Sam's death look like mass murder, do you trust anyone else not to suppress evidence?" She didn't know how he could say it wasn't her problem. She was his wife. That made it her problem and her responsibility. That was what wives were for. Still, she let it go.

She knew him well. He wouldn't want to hear that. To remind him would only invite a painfully sarcastic reply.

"Look, you just can't go," he reiterated again. He knew she was right. Of course, he didn't trust anyone else. He probably never would.

"I need to do this alone. I handled it before I met you, and I'll handle it now. Okay? I don't want you there. I forbid you to go, Dana. If you do I'll..."

"You'll do what, Fox?" she asked angrily. " Beat me? Divorce me?

What?" Had it only been a week ago that they had had that silly fight and made love on the dining room table? It had been wonderful since then. She didn't want to fight with him again.

"Why can't you just do what I say?"

"Because I have a job to do, Mulder. Because we might be talking about your sister. I love you, Fox." She looked at him, asking herself once again how it had happened that she had come to adore this troubled man so much. Finally, she suppressed her anger at the fact that he would shut her out just when he would need her the most. It was a part of his character. Dana knew, that if she wanted to make it work with him, she would have to accept it and work around it. She sat on the bed and patted it, indicating that he should join her.

He sat close to her, not

touching her and hung his head in his hands.

"Okay, Spook," she said softly putting her arm around his shoulder, "what's really going on here? I like to think we love each other enough that we can tell each other anything."

"Dana, you know my mother hates you," he said sadly.

"She doesn't have to see me, sweetheart," Dana replied. The situation with her mother-in- law bothered her, but she hoped it would be resolved one day. It hurt Fox more, she knew. "I'm not going to inflict myself on her, Spook. She'll probably never know I'm there."

"It's a small place, Dana."

"I'll keep a low profile."

"Dana, you can't go. You just can't go. Don't do this to me, please."

"Spit it out, Wolfenstein," she ordered. "What's really on your mind?"

"Shit. Look, Dana, she's not like you. She's not strong.

I...never told her we got married." Fox stood up and started to pace.

He didn't see the shadow cross his wife's face. Dana got up and with quiet dignity began to pack her bag.

"Look, Dana, Ed didn't think it was a good idea just then...okay.

I mean the girls were giving her a hard time and," he tried to explain lamely. He just shrugged. He knew he wasn't going to stop her. She was going.

"It's okay, Spook," she said very quietly. "I use my maiden name anyway."

The way she said, "it's okay" he knew it wasn't. He had heard enough of , "I'm okay, Mulder" over the years to know that when she said it, it was a lie. The trouble was, he didn't know what to do about it. His sister might be lying in a mass grave, the sister he spent his whole adult life searching for. He didn't think she was, but what if it were true? His mother was going to fall apart. He was hurting his wife. Jeez, how did life that was so good two hours ago get to be such a mess? He hardened himself. He would do what he had to do. He slipped his wedding ring off and put it in Dana's jewelry box. When he turned around, she had carefully removed the look of pain from her face. He couldn't know how badly he had broken her heart when he had slipped that ring off his finger.

"Dana, are you going to wear that?" he asked looking at her left hand. She had already removed her good rings. She never wore them when she worked, but she always wore the slender gold band that had been her parents when she wasn't wearing her wedding set, the one she treasured so much, with it's small diamond and emerald chips.

"To my grave, Spook," she told him softly. Those words sent a chill through him. He saw Dana in her grave. She turned away and took a few more things from her draw. Placing them in the suitcase, she snapped it shut.

"Fox," she said quietly, "Let me just say, well, I'm just, I'm just not sure you are doing your mother a favor trying to hide her from reality. Okay?"

"Point noted," he replied. He didn't want to talk about it any more.

Dana nodded. It was time to focus away from her hurt and on to her job.

"If you don't want to ride with me, I'll arrange for a car from the motor pool."

"No...I...want to...ride with you. Have you made motel arrangements?"

"Yes. Won't you be staying with your mother?"

"No. I don't...I never do...I'll bring Krycek to Mrs. Anderson to watch. I..." He couldn't continue. In his heart, he knew she was right about his mother, but there was his stepfather to consider and, oh hell, he admittedly had taken the path of least resistance. He was a coward when it concerned his parents, always had been. His dad had always turned his knees to rubber and his mom, his heart to jello. He turned and walked out of the room thinking once again how it had been a mistake for a screwed up guy like him to marry, so unfair to Dana, so hurtful to a woman who didn't deserve the pain. He wasn't good enough for her. One day she would realize it, and he would lose her.

He knew it. He would lose her ,and it would be his fault. He had the overwhelming feeling that this might be the beginning of the end for them. It might even be close to the end this time. Didn't the Bible say that a man should leave his parents and cleave unto his wife?

Right now, though, he couldn't deal with it. All he could think about was his sister, possibly lying in that grave on Martha's Vineyard, and his fragile mother in terrible pain.

Chapter 2

Normally, the two had no difficulty occupying their time while driving somewhere to work a case. They would rehash the details that they knew, and toss around theories, however wild. There would be silly banter back and forth about this or that, or discussion of what had appeared in the morning newspaper. They would talk about office gossip. Dana and Fox would bicker good-naturedly about what radio station to listen to. Dana always wanted easy listening or classical, while Fox opted for the golden oldies stations. Somehow, they always managed to compromise. Sometimes they would laugh about how it had been at the beginning of their partnership when they had been working things out. She had told him once that she had been on the verge of dragging him out of the car and strangling him, or possibly shooting him, on that first case they had worked together in Oregon. He had laughed hysterically when she had confessed that she had reached a point where she thought, that if he spit one more sunflower seed out the car window, she would lose it completely and snuff him. She had come very close when he had stopped to paint that big X on the roadside.

Sometimes they sang along with the radio. Fox loved to do bad Elvis imitations, although he had a fine voice, and Dana's was lovely when she sang along with quiet love ballads. THE POWER OF LOVE was his favorite. It always sent chills down his spine when he would hear her voice repeat, "I am your lady, and you are my man. Whenever you reach for me, I do all that I can." He loved those words because they were so true. She always responded to his reach, his embrace, whether it be to love him, or to dissipate a nightmare, or to simply display affection. Then, he would sing along with Rod Stewart, "Have I told you lately that I love you." Fox knew he frequently forgot when he became involved in his work, and the song reminded him. She would turn to him and smile, and pinch his thigh. Often, there would be long periods of comfortable silence, the kind that had come from first knowing your partner well, complete trust, and then, after awhile, total love.

This time it was different, however. There was no easy banter.

Neither cared to listen to the radio. The silence was heavy, pain filled, and uncomfortable. They stopped once for coffee and a sandwich, although neither of them felt particularly hungry. They tried conversation and failed. They traded places, and Fox drove.

Dana spent her time watching out the window. As they passed briefly through the Bronx on the Major Deegan Expressway, she found her eyes starting to fill with tears. The scenery was so depressing that it suited her mood perfectly, abandoned buildings, abandoned souls, broken windows, broken hearts. Surrupticiously, she thought, Dana wiped a tear from her eye. Fox needed her now. She didn't want him to know how badly he had hurt her. She knew he hadn't meant to. She knew he loved her more than anything. She told herself she needed to be strong for the man she loved. Fox saw her, of course, and knew he was the cause of that tear. It didn't make him feel very good about himself, but he didn't know what to do. He was caught between a rock and a hard place, in a situation he considered not of his making. His confusion caused him to retreat further emotionally.

The Martha's Vineyard Steamship Authority ferry, the only one to run year around, left them in the town of Tisbury. Motel accomodations were no problem since it was only March and still cold. There were few tourists. Dana had only been on the Vineyard once, briefly, the time she had followed Fox after his father died. She hadn't spent the night. She had thought then that she would like to come again, but not like this, no, not like this at all. She would have liked to have come in the summer and sat on the beach with him. She would have liked to have shown him that it could be a happy place if you were with someone you loved. Dana would have given anything if she could have eased some of his unhappy memories. She didn't think she would ever have the chance now.

Fox didn't like the motel she had arranged for. Instead, he took her to an Inn, a pretty place, the kind he knew she loved and that he never made reservations for. She knew he was trying hard to make it alright or at least better, but at this point, that was an impossibility. They were both too burdened. They checked in, and she wanted to get another rental car, freeing him to visit his family while she went right down to the police station to meet the agents in charge of the case. Dana wanted to get right to work, didn't want to fall to the temptation of the lovely fireplace and the antique bed. She didn't want to think about her pain. She was already putting herself in her professional mode. Fox, however, wasn't ready to let her go just yet. He suddenly wanted her, wanted her physically. He put his arms around her and held her tightly. She could feel the strain in his body. His misery was palpable.

"Let me make love to you, Dana," he whispered. "Please, let me love you, baby."

"I can't," she choked. "Not now." He had taken her by surprise.

She hadn't expected this, and didn't think she could handle physical love in light of his emotional retreat, at least not at that moment.

He seemed devastated. She looked up at him and hugged him briefly and held his hand for a minute. "We'll get through this, Fox. Somehow.

It will be okay. We'll be okay. I love you. I'll be there for you.

Can you just accept that for now?"

"Sure," he said dully. Sure. Okay, Scully, let's go see what we have at the police station. Then I'll rent a car and go see my mom."

He wasn't about to miss the initial case discussions with the agents in charge. He also felt her rejection keenly. He knew she was in the process of switching mental gears, but her denial of herself to him told him a lot. It told him that she didn't understand as well as she was trying to pretend she did. Dana was being Dana, putting an impassive outside face on things, and not sharing openly what was really going on inside. It hurt him when she did that. It would have been easier if she had called him a bastard to his face.

Two agents had been assigned to the case. One agent was an older man, Deke Smithson, hard boiled native of Queens, New York, overdue to retire, working out of the Boston office. He wasn't a happy man. In the first place, he had a new partner, a young guy straight out of the academy. His new partner was black. Smithson didn't like black much.

Having a black partner really pissed him off. It was made worse by the fact that he had to call his partner African/American. That was the politically correct thing to do. His unhappiness might have had something to do with the fact that he thought J. Edgar Hoover had been God's gift to the world or to the FBI. It might have had to do with his upbringing, or it might have been simply that he just plain old didn't like blacks much because he didn't. In anycase, he thought of the days, when only white males had been permitted to be FBI agents, as the good old days. White males like him had had it made back then.

Hoover had known what to do with subversives like Martin Luther King.

He knew darn well enough that they had saddled him with a black partner because he had been filmed at the Good Ol' Boys round up in Tennessee that year. It was an unofficial disciplinary measure. They were going to make him pay for the good time he had had in his t-shirt with the face of Malcolm X set in a target.

Then, Agent Smithson had found out they were sending a female agent to act as pathologist, one Dr. Dana Scully. He didn't like female agents much, or female doctors. Women, in his humble opinion, needed to be kept barefoot and pregnant. He had kept his wife that way. Well, not barefoot, but definitely pregnant. They had had five kids before she had filed for divorce, the bitch. This Scully was going to be a real pain in the ass. Women got really cranky and nuts every month, and then they got their period and cried. He had never been able to work with them. Worse, he had been told that Scully was coming with Spooky Fox Mulder. Smithson had heard Spooky speak once, rich boy from a rich family, Oxford graduate. Spooky had never had to work his way through city college at night while holding two jobs.

Unh Unh...no way. He had risen to Department Head in no time at all, leaving guys like Smithson behind along the way. They had called him brilliant. Smithson thought he was a jerk. To add insult to injury, Dr. Scully was married to Spooky Mulder. They had been allowed to remain partners, which was a total violation of Bureau policy. Of course, scuttlebutt had it that Assistant Director Walter Skinner, who was another royal jerk in Smithson's estimation, was engaged to marry Scully's mother. In many minds, his included, that meant favoritism, and he didn't like it. He wasn't even consoled by the fact that Spooky wasn't on the case, just an observer, because it was thought that one of the bodies might be his sister. He wasn't consoled, and he felt no compassion.

Dwayne Bothrington was an entirely different matter. He was young and ambitious. Like Smithson, he had come up the hard way, but he had done it by winning a full scholarship to Harvard. He was hardworking, diplomatic and brilliant. He detested Smithson, but knew that if he was going to advance, he had to hang in there and do his time in purgatory. He had to prove he could take it. Smithson was someone's idea of a bad joke, but if he could stick it out and not kill the guy, who was a decent investigator in spite of it all, he could learn a lot. Dwayne too had heard of Spooky Mulder, but Dwayne had roots in the Caribbean and was not as quick to discount Mulder's work. He had, in fact, studied Spooky Mulder's files, those that were available, as well as his monographs, in some detail and admired the man's work. He made certain he looked for the articles that Mulder published under a pen name in "Omni." He had been particularly fascinated by the case in Folkstone, and by what he sensed had not been said in the reports. Dwayne had also heard of the partnership between Dana Scully and Fox Mulder, the partnership and the eventual marriage. They had an incredible solve rate together. Some bureaucrat was being smart by letting them continue to work together.

Maybe there was hope for the Bureau in the future, a future in which the old boys network finally aged itself out of existence. Dwayne was young and idealistic enough to hope that he would be around to see that day. He was looking forward to meeting Mulder and Scully. He had a feeling that he would be able to work with them, that they wouldn't be part of the "good ole'boys network." They might even think of him as an equal human being, which would be a pleasant change after weeks of dealing with Smithson, who, he sensed, thought all black people were little above monkeys. Smithson may have been too clever to say it out loud, but Dwayne had seen the tape of the "roundup" in Tennessee, and that had told him more than he really wanted to know.

Police Chief Johnson was immediately impressed by Dana Scully.

Not only was she beautiful, but she seemed intelligent and very professional. He knew, of course, or at least had known, Fox Mulder as a child. He had been one of the first officer's on the scene the night that Samantha Mulder had disappeared. He had dealt with the hysterical mother and an angry and upset father. He had been glad when the matter had been turned over to the FBI, and they had been able to use the department's energies to organize a search of the island for the missing child.

He had also been the first officer on the scene the horrible day that Bill Mulder had turned on his 13 year old son in a drunken rage.

The island was small enough where everyone tended to know, or at least know of, everyone else. Bill Mulder had always had the reputation for being a strict father, but something had happened to him after the loss of his daughter. Johnson didn't think he would ever forget taking Bill away to jail, the child crying as the paramedics put him in the ambulance, not because he had been beaten, but because he was afraid his dad would go to prison. It hadn't happened of course.

Mulder, though he had, in Johnson's opinion, deserved a long sentence, had had too much influence and money. He had known too many powerful people in the government. He had gotten off with a slap on the wrist and some counselling. It had frightened him badly enough to stop the heavy drinking, but it certainly hadn't done anything for the boy.

"I know this can't be easy for you, Agent Mulder," said Johnson with a trace of compassion in his voice. "I'm sorry that it is taking so long to excavate the grave. We just keep finding more bodies. The press is at our throat, and the weather is working against us. It's been raining very heavily every day."

"Understood," replied Fox. "I'd like to meet the agent in charge."

"No you wouldn't," sighed Johnson, "but you'll have to. I don't envy you working with him, Dr. Scully. I don't know how his partner stands him."

If they thought Johnson was being unprofessional, they didn't say so. He looked as though he were under a terrible strain. One look at the beefy FBI Agent introduced to them as Deke Smithson told both of them all they needed to know. Dana knew immediately that she was in for a difficult run this time, professionally as well as personally.

She had dealt with this type before. It wouldn't be long before he would be making comments about her body. It was fortunate that Dwayne Bothrington seemed to be a different matter entirely. Dana hoped she would be able to engage him as an ally early on, prayed that he would be someone Fox could like, because otherwise, she didn't know how she was going to handle Smithson and Mulder at one time in her current saddened mental state.

Nothing much could be done that evening. They were still working on digging up the bodies and gathering evidence, and it was too dark for Mulder and Scully to really see anything at the isolated grave sight. She opted to take copies of the files back to the room at the inn and study them. He drove her and dropped her off.

"We'll rent another car in the morning, okay?" Fox asked her.

Time had gotten away from them, and it was growing late.

"Fine. I don't think I'll be going anywhere. You go and see your mother. I'll study the files. Tomorrow, you can read them and start putting together your own ideas."

"Right, tomorrow," he sighed. He looked at her. She looked tired. He opened his mouth. He wanted to say, "I love you, Dana."

The words wouldn't come, not here, not now. Instead, he ran his fingers through her hair briefly.

"Go and see you mother, Fox," she said softly managing a weak smile. He knew it was forced. He turned away and left her.

Fox pulled up to the huge house where his mother now lived. He had had to run a gauntlet of reporters at the gate in the dying light. He parked in front and rang the bell. Pearl answered the door, Pearl who had been their cleaning lady when he was a little boy, and who was now head housekeeper in his stepfather's house.

"Mr. Fox." She smiled. "Oh, I'm so glad you've come." She gave him a hug. She remembered him as a sweet little boy who had always loved her. He was so unlike that mean daddy of his, God rest the man's soul. He had always had a hug for her when old Bill Mulder wasn't looking. In Pearl's mind, there was nothing like a little boy hug to make a woman's day. Sweetest creatures in the world they were!

She loved his little sisters, of course, but although they were a lot like him in some ways, it wasn't quite the same.

"It's good to see you, Ms. Pearl," he said kissing her cheek.

Then suddenly his sisters were there. They were an intelligent, exuberant pair and were quickly all over him. He wondered how his quiet mother had gotten such children.

"Good to see you, girls." He managed a smile for them He noticed that they were both wearing the initial pendants that Dana had helped him choose for their birthday. .He deliberately confused their names to tease them until they moaned in protest that the FBI surely should have been intelligent enough to read their necklaces. It amazed him that Jennie and Amy actually seemed to like him, in spite of the fact that he seldom saw them. They led him down the hall to the sitting room, where their dad and mom were having a predinner glass of wine.

Ed stood up and shook his hand. His mom got to her feet. She looked as though she had been crying.

"Oh, Fox, I'm so glad you've come. I can't believe they are saying that Samantha might be in that grave. We already know she's dead. The press...oh...how can they do this to us?"

"It's okay, mom," he said putting his arms around her. What the hell was he going to do, he wondered. This woman was so fragile. How the hell was he going to make Dana understand? He knew she was trying. Dana loved him. Dana loved him more than anything. He looked at his stepfather over his mother's head. Ed shook his head negatively. Now was not the time.

"I tried to tell Chief Johnson that Samantha was already dead, that that awful woman had made you trade her away..."

"Mom, she isn't an awful woman, and that wasn't Samantha. We'll just have to wait and see, okay, mom. Maybe..well...maybe it is..."

He didn't really believe it, but what if...

"No, I don't believe it. I just won't believe it." Teena was shaking.

"If mom believes that black is white, you are never going to change her mind," said Amy impatiently.

"Right on," muttered Jennifer with a shrug.

"Don't be disrespectful, girls," admonished Teena. "I know Samantha is dead. I know my baby girl is dead. I just know it."

"Right, if you say so." They both appeared non plussed.

"That's enough, girls," Ed said quietly. That silenced them for a moment, but they didn't look happy. Fox had a feeling there was a lot of tension between mother and daughters right now. The girls were simply too young to understand that Teena had her own reality sometimes, and of course, the abduction of Samantha meant little to them except in the sense of being a romantic story for adolescent girls to tell their friends on a dark night at a sleepover. Even he, psychologist that he was, didn't realize just how romantic it was to them. He couldn't know that they had made their darkly handsome, haunted brother into a character resembling something from a Victorian novel for all their friends. If he had known, he might have been alarmed, afraid of what they might get into.

Pearl told them that it was time for dinner, and they retired to the table discussing inconsequential things. When the meal was over, Fox told them he had to return to the hotel, that he planned to work with the police in the morning, and he wanted to study the case files.

Ed walked him to the car.

"Ed, Dana is here," Fox told him quietly. "She is the FBI pathologist on the case. Mom has to be told and soon. What if she finds out?"

"I know I'm putting you in a bad position," said Ed softly, "but Teena, your mother, I don't know, lately she seems more fragile than ever. Ever since Samantha...that woman...came here. I'll know when it's the right time. Will she tell, this wife of yours?"

"No, Ed, but she's very hurt. It isn't fair to her. I know you love my mother, but I love my wife too. Now I have to go." Fox got in the Honda and drove out through the gate relieved that the reporters seemed to have disappeared for the night.

Dana showered and slipped into a nightgown. She realized that she hadn't eaten anything since the sandwich she had picked at lunch.

She wasn't really that hungry anyway. She thought briefly about checking to see whether or not there was room service. She would have liked some tea. In the end she dismissed the thought however, and went back to reading the skimpy file yet again. She heard the door open, and Fox came in. She managed a brave smile for him. He looked like he needed it. Dana truly felt for her husband. He didn't look as though he had enjoyed his visit at all.

"Hi, beautiful," he said raking in the sight of her in her pretty yellow cotton nightgown and her reading glasses. He pulled a bag from behind his back. "Low fat chicken salad and a cup of nice hot tea."

"Thanks, Spook," she said. "I was getting hungry, and there is not much in these files."

She ate quietly and drank the tea gratefully, asking about his little sisters.

"They are a real pair," he smiled, "full of energy. They don't seem as though they should be my mother's children somehow. Oh, Dana, I think you'd love them!" He realized immediately that it had been a stupid thing to say. Of course she would love them She would love his mother too, if only someone would give her the chance. She was Dana, after all. He lapsed into silence.

His wife finished her meal at the small table and went to brush her teeth. He read over the file briefly, sitting in the rocker near the unlit fireplace, but the sight of Dana in bed alone was more than he could bear. He slipped out of his clothes and lay down beside her in the beautiful old fashioned four poster bed, dimming the lamp but not turning it off entirely. He had promised himself that he wouldn't touch her, that he would give her space. He didn't really blame her for rejecting him earlier. He probably would have done the same thing in her shoes. It hurt though.

Dana lay there beside him wondering when he was going to slip his arms around her and begin to caress her. He didn't though. That hurt. Still, she supposed it was just as well that he had probably slipped into his professional mode and didn't seem to want to make love. As much as she wanted him, she wasn't certain she could have had sex with him at that moment anyway. However brave the front she put up, there was no lying to herself. Her heart was breaking. When this was over, she was going to have to seek some sort of help, because she was afraid it was all going to fall apart. The hurt could so easily become resentment that would fester until it spilled over and ended something beautiful.

Chapter 3

The once pristine woods were a mess. Record rains had turned the graves into a mass of mud. More than one body had been buried in each hole. Dana knew immediately that she and the forensics team were going to have their work cut out for them, sorting and matching bones and personal effects. She wasn't looking forward to it. It reminded her a little too much of the Chako chicken case in which she had nearly lost her head, literally. She took a moment to glance at her husband. He was standing quietly, too quietly, taking it all in. He had already had a run in with Smithson that morning. The older agent had refused to answer his questions or to authorize space for Fox to use to work.

"I don't want you near this case, Mulder," the agent had told him. "It's mine, and besides, you are too close to it." His dislike and contempt had been obvious, although there had been nothing inherently wrong with his reasoning.

"Look, I'm not interested in taking credit from anyone..."

"I don't want to hear it, Mulder." The man had walked away.

Dana had soothed him quietly, telling him that she would keep him posted on everything. Fox pointed out that Deke might not tell her everything. Then, she had replied that they had more than enough money to purchase an extra laptop for personal use should he want to access Bureau records, or other records in his spare time. She also suggested that when his sisters got home from school, he might want to spend some time visiting with them. She knew he felt like a fifth wheel here. He wanted to be doing something. It was difficult for him to leave everything to her, not because he lacked faith in her abilities, but because they were partners. She would have to find ways to keep him out of trouble. Well, she could try, if she had the time, but in the past she had not had much luck doing that. Trouble seemed to follow him.

Fox stood quietly taking in the gruesome sight as the last, or what they hoped was the last, of the bodies was carefully removed.

He carefully absorbed the atmosphere while he watched the team work.

As a boy, he had played in these woods. They had offered an escape from his unhappy home. Sometimes he had brought Samantha, but she hadn't liked them much. They had frightened her. He remembered her telling him that the boogie man snatched children here. He lifted his head and looked around. She had been scared of monsters. It was a perfect burial sight, on private property, invisible. For a maniac working at night, lights could not be seen from anywhere nearby. The soil was soft, and the trees large but spread out enough to allow room for the graves. Underbrush would grow quickly and hide the evidence.

Chilmark's zoning requirement of only one house per three acres had stood this murderer in good stead, just as it had Sam's abductors.

There would be no one close enough to hear the cry of a child, even if she had been able to scream. His instincts, however, told him the children were already dead when they arrived. These would not be children from Martha's Vineyard. They had been brought later and buried like trophies in the woods. He noticed one thing immediately.

All the skulls were missing their teeth. Identification was going to be difficult and time consuming, requiring extensive DNA testing.

Dana was going to have her work cut out for her.

Dwayne Bothrington watched Mulder. He seemed to almost sniff the air. Mulder's examination of the burial sight had seemed cursory, but the younger man had a feeling that he hadn't missed a thing. He had observed the argument between Mulder and his partner earlier in the day. It was brought home to him once again what a real jerk Smithson was. Smithson was a hard nosed investigator, going after clues like a bloodhound. He never missed a piece of hard evidence. He had a high arrest rate through old fashioned hard work, a trait worthy of respect in most men, but he frequently failed to take insight into account.

He had laughed at Bothrington's theories on recent past cases, even when he had proved to be correct, rubbing it into the younger agent that insight didn't win court cases. Arguments that it helped you know where to look for evidence fell on deaf or amused ears. He was the antithesis of a guy like Mulder.

"Don't you have something to do, Both?" inquired Deke sarcastically. "Or do you enjoy standing there watching pretty boys like Mulder?"

"Watch you mouth, Smith," snapped Both "or you might find my fist in it." He walked off, annoyed with himself that he had allowed Smithson to get a rise out of him. He was not into watching pretty boys, however, and didn't want rumors like that getting started. Smithson could be a real pig.

Mulder followed Police Chief Johnson out of the woods. He pointed at a large old house that could be seen in the distance.

"Who lives there?" asked Fox.

"Old Senator Jensen," repled Johnson. " He was actually Senator from Vermont, but his family has owned this place for Generations.

After he lost the election eight years ago, he retired up here permanently. He must be in his early 70's. He's a really nice guy.

Everyone likes him."

"Yes, I remember," said Fox thoughtfully. "Chief Johnson, could you provide me, I mean Agent Scully, with a map and a list of who owns all the houses adjoining this property? I'd really appreciate it."

"You don't suspect a local resident do you? All of these people have lived here for years." Johnson looked at the young man. He supposed anything was possible, but he just couldn't picture any of the residents as a mass murderer. He had known them all since he was a kid. It had to be an outsider. It simply had to be someone who was ferrying the children here, perhaps someone who had come as a tourist and become familiar with the area. The Vineyard didn't need another scandal like the Chappaquidick thing in the summer of '69. It had brought hoards and hoards of people. To him, Martha's Vineyard had never been the same since.

"One thing I've learned, Chief Johnson, is trust no one, well almost no one. Don't worry. I'll be discreet. I don't like that Smithson guy. I'm not sure he's competent. This conversation is between you and I."

"He's competent, Mulder. He's just obnoxious. I feel sorry for Mr. Bothrington and Agent Scully having to work with him, but he is an A-l investigator in his own way."

Fox did remember the Senator alright. The memory came suddenly.

He remembered Senator Jensen had been on Martha's Vineyard when Samantha had disappeared. He remembered Senator Jensen coming to the house to offer condolences to his parents. Sometimes an eidetic memory was a blessing. He recalled that his mother had been impressed, even through her fog of grief, that a U.S. Senator would come to call. As the man had shook his twelve-year-old hand, a hand his dad had forced him to take, the hairs on the back of his neck had bristled. His father had seemed to know the Senator quite well, in retrospect.

Fox thanked Johnson for his cooperation. Once, he wouldn't have bothered, but it was another lesson he had learned from Scully. He felt he wanted Johnson on his side, and that would require diplomacy.

Mulder went to his rental car. He was going to go to the nearest computer store to buy himself a laptop. He would also purchase a pair of high resolution binoculars and perhaps a night vision scope.

Smithson's lack of cooperation wasn't going to stop him. Then, when he got the information he had requested from Johnson, he was going to do some background checks, and they were going to encompass more than FBI files. He was glad he had money and friends at the Lone Gunman, who would be glad for a scoop on a story like this, which he feared might include a coverup somewhere along the line.

Dana watched him go. She knew by the set of his shoulders that he had decided on a course of action. She hoped it was nothing too dangerous. Sometimes he had these wild flights of fancy or insight, depending upon how you looked at it, and since he wasn't going to get any help from official channels, he was going to go off on his own.

There was nothing she could do to stop him. It was going to be like Alaska all over again with him shutting her out. He was going to ditch her again, even though she was right here, and he probably wouldn't stray far from the Vineyard. Dana could feel it, and she felt sad for the brief moment that she had before she had to return to her search of the crime scene.

Chapter 4

Jennie and Amy Tillot were bored. Even the expensive private school they attended didn't offer that much of an intellectual challenge. They both had photographic memories, a fact that the two of them kept carefully hidden from their parents. After all, if Mom and Dad knew, Mom and Dad might be even more careful than they already were about letting their girls find out about things. Jennie and Amy liked to find out about things a lot. They were overwhelmed by curiosity about everything that was none of their business. While their parents were relieved that they were seemingly not yet interested boys, they didn't realize that Jennie and Amy had other fish to fry. Neither of them had quite dared mention the subject to their parents, but they both had career plans that did not include becoming a school teacher or some other profession that protective parents such as Teena and Ed might find acceptable. They thought their older brother was about the most mysterious, not to mention neatest, guy on earth, and they planned to use what they considered must be his considerable influence to get them into the FBI when they graduated from college.

In her fear, the fear that had always kept Fox away from his sisters, Teena had unknowingly created a hero for her daughters. They hadn't told him yet, of course, because they never got a chance, but he was here now, on Martha's Vineyard. This time, the opportunity was not going to be passed up. They were going to discuss, if not hero worship, at least career plans. Amy had pointed out to Jennie that their brother had been very careful not to tell their mother where he was staying. This was a challenge of sorts. They would hone their "investigative" skills finding out. Also, they were determined to find out about THAT WOMAN. Eavesdropping had told them she was a doctor, as well as an FBI agent, and that she was here. Amy and Jennie had quickly come to the conclusion that any woman their mother hated that much was probably worth knowing, and it would be another test of their skills to find a way to meet her without arousing suspicion. It might be interesting to meet someone considered such an "evil influence" or at least, to spy on her to find out just what forms the evil took.

Amy and Jennie looked at each other. First things first, they decided. It was time to go and use that nice Pentium daddy had bought them to type their term papers on. They could hack into the registration of nearby hotels and motels and find out where Fox Mulder was staying.

"Hey, Jen, I think I found it," Amy called to her sister, who came loping out of the bathroom, hairbrush in hand, muttering about mega grease. "Looks like he is staying at the old Captain's Inn."

"Wow, big bucks. Bet the FBI isn't paying for that," replied the younger by 10 minutes sister.

"Right, who cares?" replied Amy who had always had money and didn't think about it much. "Anyway, from the looks of this, the room has been booked for two, and the other person is listed as Dr. Dana Scully."

"The evil woman," they burst out simultaneously lapsing into a fit of teenage giggles.

"Jeez, it looks like brother Fox is f-----g the devil," snickered Jennie.

"Watch you mouth, Jens, before you slip and dad washes it out with soap...again. Besides, that's classless. Brother Fox is making love to pure evil. That's literary." There was more laughter and a great deal of satisfaction. Now they knew where to go to start spying. There was a knock on the door. When Teena entered they were quietly playing an innocuous video game their dad had bought them, one which was far more suited to the average 10 year old, at least in their minds, than to young ladies of their maturity and intellect.

They could barely contain their laughter as Teena asked them if they were sure they had done all their homework.

"Give us a break, mom," snapped Jennie. "We are 16.. We know when we've done our homework."

"I'm your mother, and I have to ask." Teena finally sauntered out a little bit hurt that they snapped at her. She really tried to be a good mother, did everything she was supposed to, yet they didn't seem to like her anyway, and hadn't since they had become teenagers. It didn't seem quite fair. She never yelled or screamed at them as her mother had raged at her.

The girls heaved a sigh of relief when she left. They loved their mom, but she was so out of it sometimes, best suited for what was in their opinion, that stupid charity work she did to occupy her otherwise useless life. However loving, Mom was a space cadet pure and simple. The fact that she was an excellent fund raiser never struck them as important.

Anyway, they were beginning to form a plan of action. They would never escape the house right now, but they could make up some extra curricular activity for the next day and begin snooping right after school was over.

It was 2:30 PM of the next day before Dana finally looked at her watch and realized that she had better take a lunch break. An empty stomach was making her head hurt. She had left Fox back at the Inn that morning plugging in his new laptop. He hadn't said a word to her about what he planned to do. She knew he was up to something, but when she had tried to ask him about it, he had snapped at her, and she didn't feel like arguing, so she let it drop. Dana hadn't slept well the night before. She had seen the binocs and the night scope, and had heard him sneaking out. She was disturbed, because he had not once asked her about the bodies when he had returned from having dinner with his mother for the second night in a row. Dana hadn't been able to doze off again until he snuck back in several hours later. She was afraid for her husband. She knew he went off half cocked and placed himself in danger without any consideration for himself or anyone else.

Smithson entered the room where Dana and an assistant had been painstakingly sorting the bones of children's bodies.

"Hi, beautiful," he said sidling up to her a little closer than she liked. "How are you coming?"

She looked at him with distaste. The double entendre had not passed over her head. From Fox, it would have provoked a smile. She would have told him that she was coming just fine, and he damn well knew it, and there would have been easy laughter, but from this creep, the remark made her flesh crawl.

"Does anyone do that when you're around?" she inquired giving him her absolute sweetest smile. "I'm going to get a sandwich Mitch? Want anything?"

"No, thanks, Dr. Scully," replied the young man who was assisting her. He was choking back laughter at her response, thinking that here was a woman who knew how to handle herself. He was fresh out of medical school, but knowledgeable. Dana wasn't afraid to leave him on his own. He would, Dana thought, do well in his chosen field.

"I told you, call me Dana. I'll be back. If you have nothing new to report, please excuse me." Dana looked at Smithson with something close to loathing. Men like him were animals. She left the building and went to a nearby restaurant, where she ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and a root beer. She noticed two teenaged girls enter shortly after her and thought idly that they had pretty eyes. That was about all the attention she paid, however. She popped two aspirins for the headache that had started and smiled at them vaguely on her way out when she had finished eating.

"She sure is pretty," said Amy to Jennie as they too left the small restaurant. "She doesn't look like a devil or anything to me."

"She looks tired. Too much nocturnal activity with brother maybe." The girls giggled a little over that for a few minutes, though they were young for their age and had only the vaguest idea of exactly what that entailed. Daddy wouldn't let them have cable TV in their room. They had found some pictures on the Internet, of course, but they were stills and not all that clear, and of course they had to be deleted immediately before they had much opportunity to study them.

"Hey, let's go out to the woods and snoop around. Maybe we will find something the cops missed," suggested Jennie.

"Are you crazy, Jen? How would they miss things?

"You never know. Let's just go look, okay."

"Okay, but I think your nuts, Jen, and if we get caught, you are going to explain it to daddy."

"We won't get caught, Amy. What's the fun of having a car if you can't use it to go interesting places."

"I didn't know there were any on this boring island," muttered Amy.

Sneaking around the woods close to dark was rather thrilling. No one was guarding the sight, the search being complete, but they had to duck under yellow crime scene tape. The ground was all torn up where the bodies had been discovered. It had rained again in the earlier part of the afternoon, and as they moved away from the crime scene, Amy saw something glinting in the dying light. It proved to be a wrist bone, and around that bone hung a tiny bracelet that looked as though it once might have been silver.

"Oh, God, Jen, it's another body." Amy grabbed her sister's arm.

She suddenly had the strangest feeling that they were being watched.

"What do we do now?" Even the daredevil of the pair, Jennie was getting nervous. The place was giving her the creeps.

"Oh, no...someone is coming. Let's go." The two girls ran away as quickly as they could travel, not stopping until they got to their car. They never did see the man who came walking through the woods, but he saw them, saw them and followed them until he spotted their blue car. The Tillot girls, he realized. He had watched them grow up. They were quite beautiful. They were very different from their half sister Samantha, of course. Their half sister had been a gorgeous child, the most beautiful he had known. Yes, he remembered little Samantha Mulder very well. She had been afraid of these woods.

These two were different, but lovely in their own way, yes very lovely indeed, so small, so young for their age. The man watched until they were gone, vowing to keep his eyes on the Tillot twins, then walked on, continuing his daily exercise.

Fox had been checking records via his laptop for most of the day stopping only a short time for lunch. He leaned back. His day hadn't been totally unproductive. He decided, however, that it was time to take a break. Before he switched gears, however, he stopped and thought for a moment about his little sisters. God, they were cute.

He felt so sorry that he had missed their growing up years, sorry and depressed. They had told him that they wanted to be FBI agents. He had been flattered. He hadn't taken them seriously, of course, but he had been flattered. He realized that he was being somewhat chauvinistic, but they were so little and so young looking for their sixteen years, that Fox couldn't picture them as anything other than a school teacher in a prestigious private school where the kids behaved.

He had to remind himself that they weren't grown up yet, and that for all of Scully's 5'2" frame, she had intimidated guys who were a foot and a half taller. His thoughts turned briefly to his wife. He didn't want to deal with her right now, deal with the way she had rejected him. He knew he had hurt her, but he had thought she would understand that it was only temporary, that he would handle it. He felt confused and disoriented by the situation.

Mulder realized that he had his America On Line download disks in his briefcase and decided to load them and check his e-mail. He maintained an account which he used periodically to surf the net as a form of relaxation. He also used it to correspond, anonymously of course, with a group of UFO fanatics. Most of them were stark raving lunatics in Fox's opinion, but it was fun, and sometimes he did glean some useful information. He activated his account and went to his mail. A moment later, with hands that were shaking, he was checking a member profile. There was none available. He got off line and called the police.

Dana handed him the evidence bag as he stood at the periphery of the burial sight. It was early morning, the police having decided to postpone the search until daylight.

"This one had a personal effect attached to the wrist, no teeth, but this little bracelet..." Dana was stunned as her husband stuffed the bag back into her hand and ran away. She followed him quickly.

This action was totally unlike Fox, who hadn't lost his composure at a crime scene in the entire time that she had known him, even that of Donnie Pfaster's devastation. She found him in the bushes throwing up.

"Mulder. Fox." She put her hands on his shoulder. "What? What's wrong?"

"Oh, God, Scully, Dana...the bracelet..."

"What, what about the bracelet, sweetheart?" she asked softly.

He was pale and shaking. She feared his knees might start to buckle. She wanted to reach out and pull him into her arms, but knew it wasn't the right time or place.

"Yeah, sweetheart, what about the bracelet?" Smithson stepped out of the trees and looked at the younger agent with contempt.

Mulder had started expounding on theories to him the day before, theories that were stupid and that he didn't want to hear, because if they were wrong and he acted, his pension could be put in jeopardy.

It crossed his mind that Mulder might be trying to set him up for a fall.

"You got a problem, Smithson?" Fox demanded, his fist clenching.

"I got lots of problems, sonny," he replied glancing in Dana's direction. "Can't you take it, pretty boy?"

"I think that's enough, Deke," said Dwayne stepping out beside his partner.

"I don't. I want to know, what about the bracelet. Spooky loses his breakfast, I figure he's got something to tell."

Fox drew back his arm and threw a punch at Deke, who had gone out of his way to be rude since day one. Dana threw herself in between them and caught a good part of the thrust of the blow on the cheek, just as Dwayne grabbed Deke before he could swing back.

"Oh, God, Scully," cried Fox. The corner of her mouth was bleeding. "What the hell did you do that for? Why'd you get in the middle? Why didn't you let me hit the bastard?"

"We'll talk about it later," she said quietly. "Get out of here, Smithson. You'll get a report from me when I've examined the remains."

"I'll be talking to you again, Spooky," threatened Smithson. The older man turned and left. Fox gave Dana his handkerchief.

"You'd better get an ice pack on the cheek," said Bothrington quietly. "Come on. I think I have a cold pack in my car."

"You shouldn't have put yourself between us." Fox was angry at himself, but snapped at her because she was the nearest and closest target, and the dearest thing in the world to him.

"You don't need to get called up for another disciplinary hearing, Mulder," Dana informed him. "The guy is a jerk, but you shouldn't have tried to hit him."

Dana put the pack against her cheek. "Thanks, Both," she told the black agent. She looked at him gratefully. She didn't need a swollen face just now. Dwayne Bothrington knew that the best way to find out what was bothering Mulder was to leave husband and wife alone. Agent Scully would tell him what he needed to know later. She wouldn't talk to Smithson, but she did speak to him, and she was one very intelligent woman.

"I'm fine," she sighed answering the question Mulder hadn't bothered to ask her. "Now, what about the bracelet?"

"I...well, I gave...I mowed lawns and saved my money, and I bought Samantha this little silver bracelet for her eighth birthday.

It looks the same...like Sam's bracelet. Oh, God, Dana, what if it's her? What if all these years? What if I'm crazy?" He knew he should be worrying about his wife, who's jaw he could have so easily broken, however accidently, but he couldn't concentrate on it. He just kept seeing Sam, the look on her face when she had received the birthday gift. How she had loved it! Then he saw her lying in that grave rotting. Samantha, his baby sister, worms crawling through her...

"Fox, we both saw the clone and the bounty hunter," said Dana softly knowing they were out of earshot. "Even if it is her, it doesn't change anything. We know what we saw. Someone, something, knows more about Samantha than they should. Even if that is her skeleton, what happened before she died?" Dana hoped the bruise wouldn't be too bad. When her husband came to his senses, he was going to feel very badly indeed. She knew he feared becoming physically violent with her, and this incident would disturb him even though it had been an accident.

"I don't want her to be dead. I thought I'd find

her...thought..." Fox felt his voice breaking. "There are no teeth.

It's going to take forever to find out...I don't know...Oh, shit..What the hell am I going to tell mom?." He turned and walked away from her, leaving her standing there with the ice pack against her jaw. She watched him get into his car and drive away. Just when he should be leaning on her, when they should be together, he was pulling away from her completely, withdrawing and thinking of his mother. Neither one of them saw the two girls, girls who had quietly snuck out of their house, nearby, hiding behind one of the large trees with ears and eyes wide open. No one saw the man watching from a distance, his binoculars playing on the unnoticed young women who left quickly not wishing to call attention to themselves by being late for school.

Dana didn't see Fox for the rest of the day. The first thing she did was to send samples from the latest skeleton to the lab for priority DNA testing. They weren't going to like it, and she would have to find a way to justify it, but she knew it was important. Fox was, she felt, very close to the breaking point. If they said she was using her influence for personal reasons to get that body identified more quickly, so be it. She would resign, if necessary, and spare Skinner or anyone else unnecessary grief. Mulder was the most important thing in the world to her, no matter what. She was deeply concerned about him. Everything was sorted and packed and now the work of identification could begin. There would be closure for some parents, she knew, but it was also her opinion, that unless the teeth were found, some of the remains would remain unidentified forever. Even then, all the parents might not be found. She didn't like to think about all the mothers and fathers who had lost kids and never found out what had happened. She could barely imagine anything worse. She had been devastated by her miscarriage, and she hadn't even known that baby. It had to be a million times worse when you had already grown to love the little person. Yes, she knew it was. Dana sighed deeply, hoping against hope that there was another baby growing inside of her. It would change her life forever, but it would be part of them both, something that would keep him in her life even if things continued to fall apart as they had been for the past few days. After she had sent away the remains, she spent some time digging in past records, the records of everyone who lived in the surrounding area.

Finally, it was time to quit. Maybe, she thought, she could get Fox to have a quiet dinner with her, a long soak in the Inn's fabulous bathtub. Maybe she could get him to open up about his suspicions and ideas.

Fox ignored Smithson and continued his inquiries on his own. He knew he was ruffling feathers, and it wouldn't be long before word got back to Smithson, or Skinner, but he didn't really care. He had a hunch. At 2:30 he was standing outside his sisters school. They knew from the look on his face that they had been found out.

"You didn't think I'd use my FBI credentials to track you down did you, girls?" he demanded angrily.

"It was the only way we could think of to tell someone about the body without getting into trouble with daddy," said Jen. "Please, Fox, don't tell on us. He'd ground us forever. He still thinks we are babies."

"Look, Amy, Jennie, we are dealing with a potentially dangerous individual here."

"Those bodies are old, Fox," protested Amy. "We just wanted to see what a crime scene looks like."

"Well, why didn't you ask me to show you?"

"Because we knew you would say no," Jen replied.

Fox sighed. With everything on his mind, he didn't need this.

"Okay, I won't tell, but you have to promise me you won't do anything like that again, okay?"

"We promise," they said together with their long slender fingers crossed behind their backs. Fox didn't realize just how much his sisters were like him. Inquiring minds wanted to know. They really wanted to know.

"An anonymous call to the police would have worked far better, girls," he explained. It would have been untraceable. "Let's not let too many detective movies and a flare for the dramatic interfere with good sense anymore. Alright, girls? I mean that.

And stay away from

those woods."

"You used to take Samantha there," said Jennie petulantly.

"How do you know that?" he demanded.

"Daddy told us, when he told us to stay away from the woods."

Fox was angry, but in the face of their sudden bout of giggles, he didn't know what to do. He just watched them saunter off, thinking that if he caught them doing anything stupid like that again, he would have to tell Ed, no matter what. He was also annoyed that the story of Samantha had been turned into a bogeyman tale to scare little girls away from woods. He went for a long walk along the beach, and when he returned to the inn, Dana was waiting for him.

"Hello, sweetheart," she smiled when she saw him. "Both, Johnson, Detective Kinsey, and some others are going for drinks at a place called Murphy's. They've invited us. I told them we'd come for a little while."

"I don't want to go." He looked at her. Her face didn't look bad. The ice had done wonders. She had no right to accept an invitation without asking him, however, and he was annoyed.

"Come on, Fox. I need to relax a little. Just for a drink and them maybe we can have dinner, take a long hot soak in the tub...I've barely seen you, and I don't think your mother frequents Murphy's."

"Jeez, I planned to work. Oh, alright, but just one drink and a quick dinner," he replied ungraciously, "And next time ask me."

"Okay," she replied unhappily. He really didn't want to be with her tonight. Well, maybe he would change his mind. She would think positively.

As it turned out, they ordered dinner at Murphy's, big juicy burgers with the kind of fries that Fox usually couldn't get enough of. Dana enjoyed the company. She liked Johnson and Both, and Mary Kinsey and her friend Dolores were very nice. A Marguerita began to loosen the knot of tension at the back of Dana's neck, and she found herself laughing, in spite of the fact that her husband sat rather quietly and sullenly in his corner of the booth picking at his food and nursing his scotch.

After they had eaten, someone put some money in a jukebox, and they started to dance, everyone that is except Fox. Finally, Both asked Dana to dance. It was a fast number, a disco thing from the 80's. Dancing was something Dana had always loved, and Both was a fine dancer. Then there was another, a fast number. Dana looked beautiful, sexy, moving to the music with distinctly African rhythms.

Fox sat there and glared. He was a good dancer too. He just didn't feel like dancing. Both and Dana looked good together. Too damn good.

Bothrington was a damn good looking man. It was like watching his wife with, say, Denzel Washington. He didn't like the way Dana smiled at the other agent. He liked even less the frank admiration he saw in Both's eyes for his wife.

"You are a fine dancer for a white lady," Both was laughing as they returned to the table, "You have rhythm."

"Why thank you, Sir." Dana smiled at him. "I haven't danced like that in...well, let's see, since I got married. I forgot how much fun it was."

It was an innocent remark. Fox thought for a moment that it really wasn't fair. He never took her dancing, or anywhere that they might have a good time. Then, she smiled at Bothrington again, a lovely smile that lit her face, and he suddenly developed a headache and took her back to the hotel quickly.

He didn't want to soak in the tub with her, and he wouldn't talk about the case. While he took a quick shower, she slipped into her green nightgown and purple panties. Maybe making love would loosen him up, she thought. She felt she could handle it, had to handle it.

The situation as beginning to feel desperate, and they had always been so good together. When she slipped into bed next to him, however, he made no move toward her like he normally did. When he didn't have some crazy idea in his head that he shouldn't touch her for medical reasons, she never had to make advances to him at night. He was always ready. Most of the time, it didn't end with just once.

"Don't you want to..."

"No," he lied and turned his back to her.

She pressed herself against him and began to kiss his back. She loved the way he smelled.

"I love you, Fox. I have one more pair of purple panties for you to rip off."

"I'm tired, Dana. Go to sleep."

"Fox, we need to talk," she pleaded desperately.

"No we don't. I need to sleep."

She sighed and buried her head against his back. She knew he wasn't going to sleep. She also knew that if he didn't want to talk, he wouldn't. If he didn't want to make love, he wouldn't. Fox wouldn't do anything he didn't want to do. She lay there next to him hurting deeply. Fox felt his back grow wet with her silent tears. He focused his mind away from her and on to the case. He knew what he knew, even if he couldn't prove it. He'd find a way, and if the bastard had killed Samantha...oh, if he had done it... Finally, he slipped into a restless sleep.

Chapter 5

"Teena, I really don't think it's a good idea," said Ed Tillot over the breakfast table. He was really concerned about his wife. He knew he had to tell her the truth, and soon, but it was hard. She had had another argument with the girls earlier that morning before they had left for school. She had seemed more depressed than ever lately, and this dinner party seemed to be something Teena was looking forward to. He knew that, although she wouldn't admit it, a part of her hoped that maybe, just maybe Samantha was still alive, and another part feared her little girl may have been lying in that grave for years.

"Of course it is, Ed." Teena smiled at her husband. "You know I wasn't expecting Irene to come, but since she is, Fox will make a perfect partner for her at the dinner table. He likes brunettes you know, dated a lovely woman in England for awhile."

"If I know your son, Teena, he isn't going to appreciate you playing matchmaker." Ed knew about the brunette Fox had been dating in England. She hadn't been lovely, no matter how nice she may have looked. The woman had broken the boy's heart. Teena hadn't accepted that of course, only that her son had been dating an upper class Englishwoman with impeccable credentials, but that it hadn't worked out.

"Nonsense, it's time the boy got married. Maybe they will hit it off. You never know, Ed." Teena smiled again. He was such a sweet man, not at all like Bill had been. She had loved Bill dearly, but in retrospect, she realized, she should have gone to the high school prom with Ed.

"Teena, I just don't think...I mean, Fox doesn't seem to be the marrying kind," sighed Ed losing his nerve at the last minute. Teena must really looking forward to this dinner party. She had smiled at him twice.

"You aren't saying that you think he's gay are you?" asked Teena shocked. "I mean Bill never would have allowed that...he was very strict..." She dropped the subject quickly. Strict was one thing, but after Samantha, Bill had lost his mind. She decided not to think about it. "You'll see, Ed. He'll like Irene. You know she's well educated and beautiful."

Dana had been angry at him, he knew, although she tried not to let it show. He had refused to have dinner with her yet again.

Still, he felt obligated to go to his mom's dinner party. There was no way he could get out of it without hurting her feelings. Ed had said that she was really looking forward to it. She had a lot of connections coming that might be good for her fund raising work. He had his suit pressed and put on a clean shirt.

"Besides," he told Dana tying his tie, "don't you have work to do?"

"I always have work to do, Spook," she said, "but I want to go over the files with you."

"Don't whine." He gave her a peck on the cheek. He didn't know that to her, that perfunctory kiss was very painful because it wasn't like him at all. It was as though he were dismissing her out of hand, while he went ahead and attended to important business. Fox picked up his jacket. "Call Mrs. Anderson, and make sure Krycek is okay. I'll be back as soon as I can," he ordered distractedly. He walked out the door, ignoring what she told him he could do with Krycek.

Amy and Jennie knew that this was going to be exceedingly boring, not to mention bad. Cousin Irene was a vulture, a real femme fatale, and Amy and Jennie knew something that no one else did. They had seen a plain gold band on Dr. Scully's finger and had done a little hacking into the hall of records in Washington, DC. Failing to find what they were looking for, they had located the desired information in nearby Prince Georges County. Their brother was having a relationship with a married woman, his wife. They had gotten married on Halloween. This was romantic and perfect to the girls, who knew he had the nickname of Spooky Mulder. They had overheard that obnoxious fat FBI agent say it.

They had even heard Dr. Scully call him Spook. They thought it was sweet. Now, Irene sat next to their married brother at the dinner table, flirting outrageously. Fox, however, seemed more interested in Senator Jensen. He did in fact, seem to be going out of his way to kiss the old man's behind. He was also paying attention to their parent's other friend, another old geezer, Mr. Dennehy. Neither of the girls liked Dennehy very much. There was something about him that gave them the creeps and always had. When they had been small, he used to invite them in for lemonade, but they had always said no.

Sometimes their mom had taken the girls to visit Mrs. Dennehy, who was very sweet and always gave them candy, before she died, but they had always tried to escape quickly because they hadn't liked him.

The girls were glad when dinner was over. They hated discussing college plans with the adults who condescended to talk to them, and the talk of the latest charity bazaar their mother was working on drove them insane with boredom. They preferred to find ways to tap phone lines, so their dad wouldn't catch them hacking when the bill came. Now, however, they hung around. They didn't excuse themselves until Irene managed to get Fox out on the enclosed patio.

"So, y ou are an FBI Agent!"

"Yes." He looked at her. Ed's cousin was gorgeous. She had everything a woman needed and in all the right places, he thought.

This was bad. His mother was playing matchmaker. He could tell.

Worse, the woman found him attractive. He was going to have to weasel his way out of this.

Irene wasn't at all subtle. The FBI agent gambit was her last attempt at conversation before she slipped her arms around him.

Before he knew what was happening, her lips were pressed up against his, and her tongue was in his mouth. He could feel her slim body, her breasts pressed against him. He could have had her right there if he chose. He felt himself rise to the occasion. His mind said married; his body cried single. Worse, his arm had somehow slipped around her. For an instant he felt himself responding to her. It had been too many nights since he had made love to his wife. Fox choked and spluttered. He gagged. He pulled away. He didn't like the woman's perfume, he told himself. He didn't like the way she tasted.

She wasn't like Dana, beautiful Dana, alone at the hotel, with her lovely red hair with it's subtle scent, and her clean fresh smell and taste. His body settled down into "married" as well.

"Uh, look, Irene, this isn't the thing for us to be doing, okay?"

"Why not? Aren't I attractive enough for you?" She teased in mock hurt.

"Yes, you are. Absolutely gorgeous, but, I'm seeing someone right now. I mean...I kind of have a girlfriend, you know, and we don't...cheat."

"Well, she doesn't have to know..." The woman attempted to kiss him again but succeeded in getting only as far as his collar.

"Well, look, I just can't...okay...so that's the way it is."

Fox Mulder fled into the house just as quickly as his somewhat shaky legs could carry him. Jeez, in about 15 more seconds he would have been doing it with her on the lounge chair. Damn brunettes anyway!

Irene was one sexy woman, and she had wanted it badly. She would have been good too. A guy knew these things. Once upon a time, he used to fantasize about women accosting him like that. Of course, when he had been single, it hadn't happened, at least not quite to blatantly and quickly. Well, maybe it had sometimes but...

He didn't hear the sounds of the potted bushes as two relieved sisters snuck away. The girls really hadn't wanted to watch anyone having sex on their parents porch. Although curious, they knew they would have found it gross. They particularly hadn't wanted to see their brother do it with another woman on the patio, not when he had a beautiful secret wife at the romantic Captain's Inn, one who looked so sad with dark circles under her eyes. As for Fox, he had wanted to hang around and speak to Jensen some more, as well as a few others who lived in the area, but made up an excuse and fled the party before anyone else could accost him.

He didn't notice the

lipstick on his collar.

Dana noticed it, however, immediately.

"Have a good time, Spook?" she inquired looking up from the file she was reading. She had lit the fire. This place was costing a fortune beyond government per diem, and she had decided to use the atmosphere. He gazed at her briefly. She looked so pretty sitting there, the firelight dancing off her hair. Fox wondered how his body could even have reacted as it had to Irene. He sighed. He wanted to go home, to forget all this and just go home and be with Dana. He wanted to put his wedding ring back on and go to work in the morning.

He wanted to come home, play with the stupid parrot, make love to his wife, make a baby with Dana. He hated this, hated the case, hated the place. He despised the memories and lying to his mother. He couldn't bear the way he knew he was hurting Dana, no matter how hard she might be trying to cover it up, and he might be pretending it wasn't happening.

"Right. I always have a good time at mom's," he sighed.

"Well, there are always exceptions you know."

"There were some people there that I wanted to talk to, and I did. It was a productive evening."

"Not too productive, I hope, since one of them wears Giorgio perfume, the real thing, and pink passion lipstick, the color I can't wear because it looks so awful."

"What?"

"What did she look like, Spook? I bet she was brunette, tall, busty...Did she smell good? Do you like Giorgio, Fox? How did she taste? Just how productive was it, your evening I mean?" Dana put the file down. "Did she provide a lot of clues? Did she remind you of Phoebe?"

"Look, I didn't do anything, okay," he snapped. "My mother invited Ed's cousin to dinner and...hell." He went into the bathroom.

He saw the lipstick. Life sure was a bitch.

Dana was standing there in the bathroom door looking at him. She didn't honestly believe he had slept with the woman, but she did have a jealous streak, and he certainly hadn't been sleeping with her.

"What?" he snapped, although she had said nothing. He cursed silently.

"Nothing."

"Stop looking at me that way. Martydom doesn't suit you, Scully.

Besides, you looked like you were enjoying yourself pretty damn much with Bothrington last night." He came back at her. He had a jealous streak too.

"A nice guy asked me to dance. It's more than you've done lately. You think that a guy asking me to dance gives you the right to go and play single white male again?" she demanded. "Stop this, Dana," she thought. "He's your husband. He wouldn't fool around on you. If anything, the woman threw herself at him."

"I didn't play single white male." He was hurt. "My mother played matchmaker." He glared at her for a minute. Jeez, had that ever been the wrong thing to say. Would he never learn not to put his foot in his mouth? The last thing she needed to hear was more about his mom. He knew she was right though. He never asked her to dance, because he never took her dancing. He hadn't asked her to dance the night before, because he hadn't wanted to go to Murphy's with her. He had been acting like the Fox Mulder he knew and loved so well, spiteful and selfish, never considering her. He had been doing just what he had vowed not to do after the holidays. He promised himself that when they got back, it would be different. They would go somewhere and do fun things, relax.

"Well, you haven't been playing married white male either." She was sorry as soon as she'd said it. "Fox, we need to talk."

"Oh, f--k you," he shouted his temper fraying as it had a way of doing when he thought he was wrong and couldn't express his feelings. "I don't think I've ever known a woman who could be as much of a bitch as you. I didn't do anything, and now I wish I had.

She was beautiful, and

she sure as hell was ready." He picked up his jacket and stormed out the door. He knew he

should have been reassuring his wife, not telling her how lovely Irene had been and how ready.

He couldn't. He just couldn't. He was sick of her not having any faith in him, faith that he would

do the right thing even if it took him awhile, even though this time it was taking him longer than

usual.

Dana cursed herself silently. She should have kept her mouth shut. Now he would go out and wander around all night, and she would just lay there and worry, worry and fight tears. She wanted this case to be over, wanted to go home and be with the man she loved, not the person he had turned into since coming here. She wanted her husband back. She ran after him.

"Fox, I'm sorry. Fox, please come back." She ran up to him and took his arm. "Please. I know you didn't do anything. I'm sorry, okay."

"Okay," he sighed. He looked down at her.

"Just don't go running off. Please..."

"Alright."

"I know she threw herself at you. Women do that. I'm sorry. I know you'd never cheat on me, Spook."

"Well, I won't say I wasn't tempted, okay?"

"Okay," Dana told him. They went back in the room and sat next to the fire. She returned to reading her file, sensing that she still didn't really have him back. Dana also knew that it was probably as close as she was going to get to an apology. He picked up some records and began to read them.

"Dana," he started to say staring at her.

"What, sweetheart?" she asked softly.

"Nothing...just...I'm sorry if you got the wrong idea. Okay?"

"Okay." It wasn't what she wanted to hear, but it would do. She squeezed his wrist lightly. "Fox, I love you. Don't forget that."

He nodded. His attention turned to the file. He knew what he knew, but he needed evidence, damn it. He needed hard evidence, and the man's record was so impeccable he didn't know where to look to get it.

"Fox, maybe in the morning we can go for a walk down by the beach," she said softly when she saw that he was getting ready for bed. He was going to sneak out with this binoculars again the moment he thought she was asleep. She knew it.

"I don't think so Dana. I have something I have to do."

"Okay, sweetheart," she said softly hiding her pain. There was no point in arguing with him. If he had made up his mind that what he was doing was more important than her, she would never be able to change it.

The man sensed that the FBI was closing in, not the agents on the case, but that damn Mulder. God, how he had hated that boy when he was a kid. He had always been snooping around in the woods, always. He'd kissed Mulder Sr's butt because it had been expedient to do so, but if he could have strangled that kid... It was a miracle that Fox hadn't discovered the bodies years ago. Still, it would have aroused suspicion if he would have started complaining about kids in the woods. Kids, boys, liked woods. The man cursed fate and the heavy rains. He should have done something to make certain the bodies stayed buried. He cursed trespassers, hikers, who had no business on the island. He cursed the Kennedy's for bringing scandal and attracting attention and development to a place that had once been a quiet haven for people like him, important, wealthy people. Also he cursed the compulsion which he felt growing again. It had been years, many years since he had felt the need. Now, he was beginning to feel as though he would explode if he didn't do it again, didn't have a girl, a sweet young girl. He was too old, he told himself. It wasn't supposed to be happening anymore. He surely would get caught. Now, he might be able to keep Mulder at bay somehow, but if he did it again...Still, the thought of a young girl was sweet, the frightened look, the innocence and relaxation of her body after she was dead. She would look like a sleeping angel. They all looked like sleeping angels. He couldn't easily leave the island as he had in the past.

It was dangerous to think about a local girl. Still, children had disappeared here before. There was precedent. If he was careful...He would watch, watch and wait until he saw his opportunity. The Tillot girls had been nosing around...

Chapter 6

The "Snoop Sisters" decided that they weren't getting anywhere with their "investigation." They had not been successful in breaking into the FBI files to obtain information and data on their nearby neighbors. Hacking into those files was a lot more difficult than getting into local jurisdictions. They were good and getting better all the time, but not quite up to that level yet. Instinctively, both girls knew that the killer had to have been someone that was close by. They had narrowed their choices down to one. They had even figured out that the children had been killed off the island and transported on the ferry, probably carefully wrapped, in the trunk of the murderer's car. This was elementary, but not bad for a pair of 16 year old amateurs, whose parents wouldn't even let them watch HBO, and who insisted on sending them to a private school where they thought nothing ever happened. Jennifer and Amanda Tillot decided that it was time to play hooky and get to work. They had never done it before, but didn't view it as a problem. They were "experts" at forging handwriting, or so they thought. They had spent a lot of time practicing their mom's, just in case such an emergency arose, so it was no big deal. They would simply not show up for class. No one would question it because they were the "good" kids, straight A students, who never got into any trouble. If they were home, it was because they were sick. Jenny and Amy agreed that it was good for at least two days of snooping. Now if they wanted to break into FBI files, a good way to do it might be to break into Fox's room and check out his laptop. If they could figure out his password, they would be "in."

They weren't able to break into his computer, but they did find the case files which were almost as good. They also found his hand written notes regarding the profile of the killer that he was doing, and though they were incomplete, that was better yet. It indicated that the suspect was a pedophile, probably addicted to kiddie porn.

It led them right in same direction their 16 year old inexperienced minds were moving. They thought they were doing really well.

They also took a moment to snoop around the room.

"Look at this, Ame. Scully wears purple underwear."

Amy laughed. "She must look awful in it, worse than Penelope Smythe in that purple jacket she bought. Redheads can't wear purple. Maybe Fox bought it for her. Mom says he likes brunettes, and they look good in purple."

Jenny continued to navigate around. "I don't see any condoms or anything. You think they are trying to have a baby?"

"How can you have a secret marriage and have a baby? It would ruin everything. She probably takes the pill and keeps them in her purse or something, dummy." Amy ribbed her sister good-naturedly with her elbow.

"Wonder why they have a secret marriage anyway."

"Probably so mom doesn't freak. You know, her only son married to the devil."

"Yeah, how did we end up with such a dimwit for a mother?"

"Oh, mom's okay. She's just not quite all there sometimes."

"Someone's coming."

When Dana came up the hallway, two teenaged girls walked by, pretty girls, the ones she had seen in the restaurant. "They must live nearby," she thought, then went into the room. She changed into a pair of pants and some practical shoes. It had started to rain. She didn't want to go on a raid in the rain in an Armani skirt and heels.

She didn't notice that one of the draws had been left open. Dana was concentrating on getting ready and on contacting Fox. They thought they had solved their case, and she didn't want to go without him.

Although he had appeared uninterested in what they had been doing, and had refused to discuss the case with her, she felt that he would want to be along when they went to catch the perp.

The girls decided to head back in the direction of the criminal.

Maybe, they thought, if they did a little spying, they could get some evidence that Fox could use to catch him and prove he had murdered all those children. Jennie and Amy, after all, didn't need a search warrant to sneak into someone's house and find something incriminating. If they took something to their brother, perhaps he wouldn't laugh behind their back when they talked about becoming FBI agents. They had seen the amusement in his eyes when they had told him about their plans, although he had admittedly been careful to encourage them. They knew it was because they were girls and because they were small. And, it wasn't fair. His very own secret wife was short, and she wasn't going to grow anymore. She was too old. She was an FBI agent, so why shouldn't they be agents as well? Anyway, the thought of "cracking" the case and being heroines had a certain appeal. They got into their little blue car and drove off.

Dana located her husband with the cell phone. He sounded annoyed, but came back into town and met her for an early lunch at a pizza place. He remembered it from when he was a kid. Sometimes his parents had brought Samantha and him here for an evening of slumming it. Although they certainly hadn't been in the class of Ed Tillot, finances had never been a problem for the Mulders. The pizza had always been good, and he had never seemed to be able to get enough.

Funny, you read about kids being hungry because their parents had no money to buy food. He remembered being hungry all the time, and they had had plenty. It probably had to do with a quick metabolism, being big for his age, and being afraid to take more, afraid of his father and what he might say or do. If he ever had children...God, at the rate he was going, it sure wasn't going to happen any time soon. He looked at Dana across the table.

She had been saying

something to him, and he had been a million miles away.

"I'm sorry, angel," he said softly. "Want to run that by me again?"

"We have a warrant, Fox," she repeated, worried about her husband. "We are going in this afternoon. I assume you'll want to come."

"Oh, no. That's okay, Dana. Smithson doesn't want me around.

You take care of it."

Little alarm bells went of in Dana's head. Mulder was up to something, the kind of something that led him to Alaska, or near death in New Mexico. He didn't want to talk about it, and he had a different idea about who the guilty man was. It was crazy.

"I still have nothing on the ID of the little girl with the bracelet, Fox," she said softly, "I'm sorry, Spook."

He took a bite of his pizza and said nothing.

"A penny for your thoughts, Mr. Mulder," said Dana attempting a smile at him.

"Nothing important, Scully," he replied. He finished his pizza in silence. She studied him as she nibbled at her own. He was so distant. Once, if she would have asked him that question, he would have smiled and said, "They aren't worth a penny, Mrs. Mulder." Then, he would have grinned and added, "MD." When things were right between them, he always teased her about little things like that, like the time at the Irish Folk Festival when he had called her Mrs. Mulder as a joke, and she had told him he had better never forget the MD after that Mrs. Lately, things hadn't been right a hell of a lot. Had it been only 10 months ago that he had made that stupid proposal, and she had said yes? She had been so ecstatically happy that day, at the moment when she had looked at him and said, "Okay." God, there had been a lot of water under the bridge since then. There had been a lot of pain, but there had also been so much love between them. She never wanted to let go of that love.

Dana concentrated on eating the pizza, even though she was suddenly no longer hungry. She had known he was troubled and had loved him anyway. She had been aware of all his eccentricities, and had married him in spite of them, or maybe because of them. She hadn't wanted to change him, but she had hoped that with marriage, he would learn not to shut her out. It hadn't worked that way. He seemed to be turning to stone around her, and she didn't know what to do to help him or herself. She looked at his ringless finger and believed in her heart that it was all going down the tubes, this time for real. This wasn't just a case of a tantrum, or him going momentarily mad with grief the way he had at Christmas. He was really distancing himself from her this time. At least it seemed that way.

Fox looked at his wife surrupticiously as she forced herself to eat. He should have told her he couldn't meet her. Her food might have tasted better. He was losing her, and he didn't know how to fight it. She didn't know it, but he had been watching her work with the other agents. She was good, damn good, as he had known she would be. She had it wrong this time, but he knew Dana. It wouldn't be long into the questioning of their suspect before she would realize that he was innocent and find the right man. She could and would do it without his help. Dana Scully was a brilliant professional woman ,who never should have been sent to work on the X-Files. If she had only had a little more experience, they wouldn't have dared send her, to try to use her as they had. She would have known better. He had, he thought, ruined her life. He loved her more than anything, and look what he had done, was doing to her. She looked sick and exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes, and a bruised cheek. She had lost weight again, lost weight off a figure that was already too slender after the agony of her miscarriage, one he still felt he could have prevented if he had been more careful with her. God, he couldn't even tell his own mother the truth about them being married. He didn't have the courage. Once again, he remembered their wedding night, how beautiful it had been. How he wanted to recapture those moments of bliss with his beautiful Dana.

"Dana," he said quietly. He came to a sudden decision.

"What, Spook?" She smiled at him expecting from his tone that he would say something sweet.

"When this case is over...when it's finished...I want you to know, I'll...divorce you, I mean, no problem...I don't..." He got up and walked away. What he wanted to say, what he was trying to say was, "I'll give you a divorce if you want one. I know I've been a bastard, and I've hurt you." What Dana heard was, "I want a divorce."

The girls hadn't counted on a flat tire and the fact that they couldn't, even using all their combined strength, get the lug nuts off to change it. It was still quite a walk to where they wanted to be, and they were stuck. They did a lot of muttering about how unfair daddy was not to have gotten them a car phone. It was an extravagance he had felt that they didn't need. Ed Tillot was wealthy, but a fool only where his beloved wife was concerned. He knew he was very rich and very lucky, and he didn't want to spoil the girls totally, so he had gotten them one computer, and one car to share. Since they were rarely allowed off the island alone, a car phone was something he hadn't thought they would need. Martha's Vineyard was, after all, about as safe a haven as one could find. They rarely fought with him, and if they drove their mother crazy at times, he considered that quite normal for their age and was pleased that his girls didn't get into any trouble. Little did he know! While other girls were out risking pregnancy with their boyfriends, his little angels were trying to hack their way into government files and set up their own Federal Bureau of Investigation.

They needed to get to a phone to call their father, or the local garage, so they hiked to the nearest house. Fortunately, it wasn't far and school hours were already over so they wouldn't have to explain not being in school. Jennie tripped along the way, spraining her ankle, but was able to hobble along. The girls thought they were lucky. It could have happened outside the murderer's house, and then where would they be?

Fox hiked through the woods and took up his post. He knew that Smithson, Scully and Bothrington were wasting their time. He had seen the files. The guy was a pedophile, probably kept a basement full of kiddie porn. There was nothing wrong with searching the house and arresting him. They might be doing the world a favor, but he was not the murderer. The murderer was far too clever to be caught with dirty pictures of children. He was a very dangerous man. He didn't see the two girls go up to the back entrance of the house.

Jenny and Amanda knocked on the door and were grateful to be let in. They left their umbrellas out back, the stupid umbrellas that there mother had gotten them at the beginning of school. One was yellow and said Jennifer, and the other orange and was inscribed with Amanda. The girls hated those dumb umbrellas, which were cute for a five year old, but their dad had told them that their mom would be very hurt if they didn't use them, so the girls had stashed them in the car for "emergencies." It was the first time they had ever been used, and then only because there was no one around to observe. It was also the last time they would ever be used. They were also grateful when their neighbor went to call their dad and offered them a nice hot cup of tea.

"Come into the kitchen, girls." He smiled. "You can get warm there while you are waiting for your dad. The housekeeper is off today, but I think I can manage some hot tea. I bet you take lots of sugar."

"Well, just a little, Sir, but lots of milk," said Amy. For some reason, she felt uneasy.

"Thank you very much, Sir," said Jennie. "It's really chilly out there, even though the rain finally stopped."

"Pretty umbrellas. I was watching from the window, girls. I bet Teena bought those for you."

"Uh, yes, Sir," they answered in unison exchanging amused glances.

The FBI grabbed him when he got back from his walk. The man was frantic. They wouldn't listen to him. They read him his Miranda rights. They tore up his house. They found his collection. He didn't care.

"Look," he said, "I didn't kill anyone. You've got to listen. I was out walking...please..."

"Shut up, scum," spat Smithson giving him a kick on the shin.

"That's enough, Deke," said Bothrington. He was feeling pretty sick looking at some of the magazines that were coming up from the basement. It looked like they had gotten their man alright. This guy's fetish must have been all consuming for years until age and arthritis set in. Jeez, what a freak. He could kill the guy himself.

He had a kid sister.

"Listen, please, you've got to listen. You, Mrs. Ms. Lady, with the red hair."

"What?" she asked turning to look at the guy, wanting to spit in his face. She had enough to deal with without talking to a monster.

It was her job though. She forced herself.

"Where is the other agent? The tall handsome one. He knows.

He's been watching."

"He's not assigned to this case." Dana looked at the man with contempt. God only knew what Fox was up to. He was going to be disappointed that he wasn't in on this. Jeez, they were hauling a bag of baby shoes out of the basement.

"I wouldn't hurt a child. Please believe me. I've never touched a child. I know I'm a creep and a pervert. I like to look, that's all. The Tillot girls, please. I saw...they went into his house. It wasn't me. I wasn't the one. They might be in danger...please"

"What about the Tillot girls?" asked Dana suddenly interested.

"He's been watching them. They've been snooping around, playing detective, and he's been watching. I've been keeping my eyes on them."

"I just bet you have," snapped Smithson.

"Wait a minute, who's been watching them?" asked Bothrington.

When the frightened man told them, Both and Scully looked at each other and ran for the car.

Mulder was bored. Nothing was happening here. He got up from his semi damp hideaway and headed back to his car, all his old injuries aching. Then, he caught something blue through the trees.

It was his sisters' little car, the one that they shared. One of the tires was flat. It looked as though they had attempted to change it.

He looked. No car phone, no CB. He tugged on the lug nuts. They were in very tight. What would two young females have done? They would have walked to the nearest neighbor's house.

"Oh, God," he thought setting off at a run. "Oh, God, they had gone to the house, young alone and defenseless." While he had been carefully watching the front, they must have been going in the back entrance. Somehow, the girls had come back to snoop around the crime scene in spite of their promise. They had had hands behind their back, he remembered suddenly, when they had made that promise. His sisters, his blood. It all began to make sense. He had gone back to the room at the Inn for just a moment earlier and had found his computer on. He had been sure he had turned it off. He thought at the time that Scully had used it, but why should she? She had her own. The girls had tried to get into his files. Oh, God in heaven, he had left his incomplete case notes laying around. If they had seen those notes, they would have headed to exactly the wrong place, the place where Dana had gone. He'd left his cell phone in the car. At least he had his gun.

He crept around the back of the meticulously maintained old farmhouse. There, at the back, two umbrellas! They looked like they belonged to a pair of five year olds, but they were clearly stamped Jennifer and Amanda. They had to have been a gift from Teena, about 10 years too late, so very like his mother, an expert fund raiser for charity, but so childlike in many ways. Fox knocked on the glass paneled door, which he could see led into a utility room.

Amy was about to take her first sip of tea. Jennie had already had one. She thought it tasted a little funny, too much sugar probably. All adults seemed to take it for granted that kids liked sugar by the ton even when they didn't.

"Aren't you going to answer the door?" asked Jennie loath to take another sip of the strange tasting tea.

At that point, all hell was on the verge of breaking loose. The back door opened rather loudly, and Fox came in.

"Hi, girls," he said calmly, "I've come to take you home. Hello, Senator Jensen, how are you today?"

Pent up frustration and rage burst forth in the man. His descent into madness was instantaneous and complete, just as Fox feared it would be if he was interrupted in his compulsion after it had been repressed for so many years. He had, however, underestimated the man's skills.

"They are mine, mine...You can't have them." The older man reached into a draw, and before Mulder could get his gun out of the holster, Jensen had pulled a weapon fired it two times. The elderly Senator was a crackerjack shot. The girls screamed and ducked under the table just as two people came barreling in the other entrance. They saw Dr. Scully get off one shot. Senator Jensen dropped his gun and fell, sobbing and bleeding, on the floor. While the tall black man kicked the gun away from him, Dana went to their brother.

"Fox, oh, Fox. Oh, God. I've got to get an ambulance, now." At that moment, Smithson came in the house and took in the scene. He had brought backup when his partner had taken off with the little redhead like a madman. His presence of mind probably saved Fox Mulder's life, for he had called for paramedics while he was making the short drive between the Dennehy farm and the house of the impeccably squeaky clean retired Senator from Vermont, Jensen.

The ride to the hospital was a nightmare. Dana was grateful that she could turn the two girls over to Both and know that they would be looked after. Fox would never forgive her if something happened to those two. She could understand why. Even as Fox lay dying, they had remained composed, tearful, but composed, as they had watched her and the paramedics work. The last thing that she had heard them say to Both was, "Could you please call our dad? We want to go home now."

They wouldn't go home, of course. They would be brought to the hospital to be checked out, and then they would have to answer questions. These two had an inner strength that they hadn't inherited from their mother. That, Dana saw, even without being able to look closely. Vaguely, in her mind, Dana knew it was the same two girls that had been appearing around town, but she couldn't really process the data fully. Her mind was on her husband, her dying husband, the man who had just hours ago asked her for a divorce.

"Oh, God, Spook, you may not need one now," she thought.

Chapter 7

Dana sat in the waiting room of the municipal hospital waiting, marking time, as it seemed she had so many times before, for news of Fox. How many hours had she spent sitting in the hospital at Eisenhower Field waiting for Fox to wake up? How many hours had she sat in New Mexico in the motel room waiting for him to regain consciouness, praying that he would be alright? They hadn't been married then, not even engaged, just partners, and it had hurt so much. Now it was as though the world were ending slowly. She couldn't be with him now. Realisitically, she knew that, but her doctor's training made her want to act, to be there performing the surgery. It was so difficult for her to trust his life to anyone else's hands, so very hard. Dana knew many doctors were not comptetent. When they had come in, she had dropped names. This was Ed Tillot's stepson, Teena Mulder's son. It would, she hoped, get him the best medical care there was. She didn't like herself much for doing it, but it was for Fox. Dana felt a sudden pain and got up and went to the ladies room. When she came out again, her tears were barely contained. Her period had started. There would be no baby, no little girl or boy to hold. Fox would die, and she would have nothing, or Fox would live, and she would still have nothing. Maybe, she thought, if she promised him that she wouldn't ask for any child support, she could ask him to love her again, just to make her pregnant, just to give her something that belonged to them both. It was irrationsl, she realized, but she didn't care. She just wanted his baby, wanted it so much there was an aching void inside of her.

She couldn't concentrate very well. Dana could hardly believe he had stopped loving her. She didn't believe it. She didn't believe he no longer cared. Why, oh why would he want a divorce? Hadn't she been understanding enough? She had tried, really tried her best. Had it been the silly bird? Her jealousy? Had she become a sexual bore?

Oh, God, what had she done wrong this time? Why did all her relationships with men fall apart? Her mind ran through the list of losers she had dated. Finally, with Fox, she had found something wonderful. He was not easy, but he was incredible in so many ways.

How could it be going so wrong? A wave of grief washed over her, grief for her empty womb.

Police Chief Johnson came in, along with Both and Smithson.

"Any news on Mulder yet?" asked Smithson. Dana was surprised at his concern.

"Not yet," she replied quietly. The three men sat down heavily.

A law enforcement officer down was a law enforcement officer down.

"I want to thank you for coming after us, Smithson," said Scully.

"The truth is, Agent Scully, I wasn't surprised at what Dennehy had to say. His prior record made me suspicious of something, but I don't much like politicians, and Jensen's record was a little too clean to be believable. He was my next choice. I'm just glad Mulder got there on time to save those girls. I'm not much of a father, but I wouldn't want my girls..." Smithson stopped before he said too much.

" I don't know how he knew."

"Fox, he just knows things sometimes. There's a song...Fox, he paints with all the colors of the wind. I can't explain it any better." Dana stared out the window for a moment. "Skinner, I forgot to call Skinner. Will you stay here a minute, in case the doctor comes, please?"

"Of course, Dana," said Both quietly. Maybe old Deke wasn't half bad. He had scoffed at Mulder's theories in the beginning, but he had apparently looked into them after all. He told Deke that he respected him for that.

"I don't like the new Bureau," replied Smithson quietly. "I like things the old way, but an agent is an agent. Makes them kind of a partner. If we don't watch each other's backs, no one else is going to do it. Remember that, Both. No one else will do it."

Both was well aware of that. He was also feeling a bit safer at the moment, safer than he ever had with Smithson as a partner before.

He doubted he would ever actualy like Deke, but he was impressed by the man's belief that law enforcement people needed to watch out for each other.

Dana explained to Skinner as best she could what had gone on and that she was waiting for word on Mulder.

"I'm sorry if I don't sound very coherent, Sir. It...it will all be made clear in my report. I..it doesn't look good for him, Sir.

I...I'll get back to you as soon as I hear more."

"Okay, Scully," said Skinner in his professional mode. He knew Dana better than to fuss over her. She didn't need it, and she didn't like it. She would view it as a put down. It seemed that Mulder's incredible insight, as well as his ability to put himself in a serial killer's head, had once again caught a murderer and once again gotten him into trouble, very serious trouble. "It sounds as though you all did some excellent work up there."

"Mulder especially, but the two agents, Smithson and Bothrington, excellent, Sir. I...I have to go now, in case the doctor comes."

Skinner sighed as he hung up the phone. He sighed and reached for the receiver again. He picked it up and put it down. He would give it a little while. Maybe someone would call him with good news.

Maybe he wouldn't have to tell Meg that her daughter was a widow and that the young man she had come to love as a son was gone.

Smithson got her coffee and a sandwich and threatened her with death if she didn't eat. Perhaps he didn't approve of female agents, but this one had spunk. She wasn't tearful and falling apart. She had held her own with the guys, had in fact, from what Both had told him, gotten off an incredible shot, wounding Jensen without killing him. He would like to have seen Jensen die, but on the other hand, maybe years in prison, years getting gang banged by the other prisoners who might get a kick out having the old politician, might be a more fitting punishment. Both patted her shoulder.

"Hey, Irish," he smiled at her, "that stud of yours will be up dancing with you in no time. You'll see. Old Dwayne has spoken."

"Bothrington is right," said Johnson, "Mulder's tough stuff. I know. I knew him when he was a kid. He takes a licking and keeps on kicking." He knew immediately that he might have said too much.

"Yeah, well, I guess he always had to," said Dana numbly.

"So," thought Johnson, "Scully was aware of the abuse." She was good for him, this little woman. He hoped they could work out the problems that he sensed they had been having.

A doctor came out. "Dr. Scully?"

"Yes?" she asked getting to her feet quickly. "My husband?"

"He has survived the surgery, Dr. Scully. We've replaced the blood he lost, and we are giving him intravenous antibiotics to prevent infection. He hasn't regained consciouness yet, but if you'd like to sit with him, it's alright. You are a medical doctor."

"Yes, oh, yes, thank you." Dana got to her feet. "Thanks, guys.

I'll call you as soon as I know anything more, and I'll be in to make my statement as soon as I can."

"Not to worry, Scully," said Smithson. "No one is going anywhere in a hurry."

"Just what the hell did you girls think you were doing?"

demanded Edward Tillott. He had had to go to the hospital to authorize an examination for them. When he arrived, he had been greeted by Police Chief Johnson and two FBI agents, who had informed him that Senator Jensen, a man he had known and liked for years, had tried to harm his daughters and had shot his step son, who was now near death in the same hospital. Ed had been heartsick. The first thing he had done was authorize the exam for his girls. He had then moved heaven and earth to make certain that Fox got the best doctor's there were.

"We just wanted to prove to Fox that we could be FBI agents if wewanted," said Jennie tearfully. Her ankle was throbbing, and the adrenaline was wearing off.

"We were going to spy on Mr. Dennehy," continued Amanda. "We never liked him, and we thought he killed those kids. We got a flat tire, and we went to Mr. Jensen's house. He gave us tea."

"Which we are having analyzed," explained Johnson.

"It tasted funny," said Jennie.

"Next thing we knew, Fox came in, and Mr. Jensen pulled a gun and shot him Then his partner came in and shot Jensen."

"Oh, God, I can't believe it. I just can't believe it. You girls are grounded until you are 90," he said. "I'm never letting you out of my sight again. How will we tell you mother?" Then he broke down and pulled his daughters to him, holding them close. He was angry with them, but he was just glad to have them alive. They both started to cry as well.

"Daddy, can we see Fox?" asked Amy through her tears. "I think he might die, and it will be our fault."

"Amy," said Chief Johnson, himself the father of a daughter, "He's in surgery now. Why don't you go home with your dad. We'll notify you when we hear something, and you can come back and visit him then. Tomorrow, you can come to the police station and give a statement. Okay?"

"Okay, Mr. Johnson," said Jennie softly, answering for them both.

"Your brother is a hero, girls," said the police chief as they left. "And you two are very lucky young ladies."

Dana sat at his bedside for a long time. He wasn't on a respirator, although they did have him on oxygen, with a catheter in his bladder, an IV line hooked to his arm and a naso gastric tube for feeding later. His vitals were steady but weak. Dana knew that it could go either way. One bullet had passed through his rib cage on the right side and had lodged near his spine, although not close enough to cause a spinal cord injury, thank God. The other had entered his right thigh. When he had fallen, he had broken the ulna and radius of his right arm and had hit his head, hard. There were stiches in his scalp, along with the cast on his arm and the sutures from the two bullet wounds. He was going to need a lot of care. Dana rememberd when she had been in the coma, how she had been able to hear voices, sometimes even to understand what they said.

"Oh, Fox," said Dana softly, "Don't die on me. Please don't die.

Come back to me, sweetheart. I love you. I love you so much." She stroked his head gently. "If you die, I won't have anything, anything but a big bank balance and memories. Oh, Fox, I won't have a husband, I won't have a baby...nothing...please come back. We'll work it out.

Please.." She heard her voice crack. That wouldn't help. She forced herself to be calm and called Skinner once more to let him know that Fox had come out of surgery but wasn't quite out of danger yet. Then she called her mother to spare Skinner the agony. When she hung up the phone, she spoke softly to her husband again for a little while. She told him how Skinner had praised his work, and how her mom sent her love to him and would pray for him. Dana removed the gold cross from his neck and ever so gently placed it around his.

"Maybe this will help, baby," she said softly. "It's my cross.

The one mom gave me. Hold on, Spook. Keep on fighting. Please." She stroked his hair silently for awhile. "Maybe I should have been more understanding about your mom, Fox," she whispered softly. "If I hurt you, I'm sorry. Oh, Fox, just come back to me, and we'll work everything out. Just come back."

She didn't intend to fall asleep, but she nodded off with her head pressed against the bed.

Dana awoke with a start after a few minutes. She checked her husband's vitals again and made a quick trip to the bathroom. She drank some of the water that the nurse had left, and sat down beside her husband again. Putting her hand on his arm, she spoke to him softly.

"I'm here, Fox. I'm here, Wolfenstein. It's okay. It's going to be alright." Quietly, she began to sing softly in the ancient language her Gran had taught her, a soft lullaby.

Mulder was aware of her presence. He had heard her soft loving words. He was in a twilight state, somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. "Dana," he thought, "don't go away, Dana. If you go, I'll die." He drifted in and out of semi consciousness.

Dana heard a fuss in the hall outside the room, not unusual for hospitals, but then the voices got louder.

"I want to see my son, and I'm not going in there with that woman. With all the money we raise for this hospital...

"Teena, please calm down," said Ed quietly. It was rare for Teena to be this angry or assertive. If Dr. Scully were in there, she could hear. He hoped Teena wasn't on the brink of another breakdown.

"Oh, mom, that's not fair," burst out Amy. "That woman is his wife."

"Shut up, Amy," admonished Jen.

"No, I won't. That's his wife, and he loves her. I'm sure he does. I don't understand how you can hate a woman you never even met.

It's stupid. Maybe she's really nice."

"His wife. Why would my son marry a whore like that? I don't believe it. I just can't believe it. Why wasn't I told?" Teena Mulder turned around and ran away moving quickly down the corridor.

"Come on girls," said Ed quietly, "I think we have some more talking to do, after we get your mother calmed down. No arguments.

Come along, now."

"Oh, God," thought Dana wondering how much more she could take.

It gave her no satisfaction knowing that she had been right, and that it had been unfair not to tell Teena Mulder the truth from the beginning. Suddenly, Mulder opened his eyes.

"Mom," he whispered softly, "Mom."

Dana felt her heart break. She knew it wasn't logical, and she was grateful that he had spoken at all, but it hurt terribly that he had asked for his mother and not for her. She rang for the nurse to tell her that he awakened.

"It's okay, sweetheart," said Dana softly. "Your mom was here, but she had to go look after the girls. They are fine too.

Everything is okay, Wolfenstein. The bad guy's in jail. I'm here, and your mom will come back later. It's okay, Fox. It's okay."

The nurse came. She suggested that Dana might want to go home and get some sleep, but she declined. She couldn't leave him, not now. He appeared to have slipped back into his comatose state once again. She would be leaving him soon enough, God knew, if he got what he wanted. Right now, though, she was still his wife. She couldn't leave her Wolf. When the nurse was finished, she sat at his bedside once more, wondering if she would ever be happy again, remembering what it felt like lie next to him, the way he smelled as she rubbed her face against his bare chest, the way his mouth tasted when they kissed, the way her skin tingled when he touched her. No matter what, she wouldn't have traded any of it, she decided. Her single regret was her empty womb.

Dana looked up, and there was a man standing in the door. He was not tall, slightly overweight, balding, but with a nice face. In a way, he reminded her of her dad. He wasn't a handsome man, but there was something open and honest about him.

"Dr. Scully?"

"Yes?"

"I'm Ed Tillot." He came in the room almost reluctantly, aware of the wary look that crossed the young woman's face. It was the first time he had seen Dana Scully up close. She was a beautiful woman, even with the sadness and exhaustion etched into her face and the dark circles under her eyes. "Marriage to the Mulder men was not good for a woman," he thought. Looking at her, it was difficult to picture her packing a heavy pistol and putting a bullet through his longtime neighbor and friend. He still couldn't quite believe it.

Jensen a murderer, a child killer living so close to his little girls all this time. He shuddered internally. He was grateful to the small redhead who had probably saved their lives after Fox was wounded.

"I thought you might be able to use a thermos of coffee and some sandwiches." He set a bag down. "I had the cook prepare something.

I hope you like it."

"Thank you. That was very considerate." Dana kept her tone carefully neutral.

"We need to talk, Dr. Scully." He sat down. He looked at his stepson, and Dana noticed a look of sadness cross his face. The man turned his attention back to Dana.

"I know you must have heard what went on the hall. I know it must have hurt. I'm sorry. I want you to know, it was my fault, not Fox's. My wife...she..."

"I know, Mr. Tillot. She's fragile and has her own reality."

She knew she sounded bitter.

"Yes." Ed hesitated. "God only knows, I never wanted Fox to get hurt again. He tried to warn me that it wasn't a good idea to keep the truth from her, and I tried to tell her, but she'd been so depressed since Samantha...since that woman who claimed to be Samantha..."

Dana reached over and took Fox's hand while he slept. While she sat in the room with this man, she needed to feel her husband's skin against hers.

"Fox deserved better than Bill Mulder for a father. God, Dr. Scully, my first wife and I would have done anything for a son like him. He was so bright, and such a nice kid. Bill was such a cold man." Ed Tillot sighed. This was a difficult conversation. " He was bad for Teena, and he was worse for Fox." Once again, Ed Tillot looked at the comatose man lying in the bed. "Bill used to hit that boy. He never quite crossed the line into real child abuse, prosecutable abuse until...until after Samantha though. Our house ajoined the Mulder place, and I was out walking. My wife had died two years earlier, and I walked a lot, thinking about her. I heard an awful noise coming from the garden shed. It was Bill in a drunken rage. He was beating the boy with a two by four. One arm was already broken, and Bill was raving that if the police and the doctors couldn't make his son remember what had happened to Sam, he sure as hell would. I was able to stop him before he cracked Fox's skull.

Dr. Scully, I'll never forget that day." Ed paused for a long moment dealing with the memory. He was a peaceful man by nature, and he had always been fond of Fox. It wasn't easy to relive it. " When the police came, Fox just kept begging them not to take his daddy to jail.

He just kept pleading over and over that he knew it was his fault that Samantha was gone, and that it was okay that his daddy hit him."

"My poor Fox," said Dana softly. "I knew his dad was abusive, but..."

"Anyway, Fox was sent to live with an aunt. She was a good woman with no preconceived notions of what little boys were supposed to be like. It was the best thing for him. Teena had a complete breakdown.

All those years Bill had been telling her that the way he disciplined Fox was necessary for little boys, and she believed it. She didn't really know any better."

"Excuse me, Mr. Tillot, but how could she not know?" asked Dana, skeptical. It was something of an effort to be polite, but this man was trying to reach out to her.

"Teena was a quiet, sensitive little girl raised by a harridan of a mother. Her father abandoned them when she was just a baby. I think she fell in love with Bill because he was such a take charge individual. He fell in love with her because she was beautiful and sweet and could be dominated easily. His parents wanted him to marry a cousin, to keep the money in the family. They circumvented that by conceiving Fox in the back seat of a car one night. As for me, well, I'd been in love with Teena since the 10th grade. I always was a fool for her, although I loved my first wife very much, Dr. Scully. Teena and I have been happy, and I've been able to afford enough help that she needn't be overly stressed by child rearing. She does a lot of good. She's a wonderful fund raiser, my Teena. There's something about her that makes people want to give. I can't tell you how many needy children have received medical care due to her efforts."

Dana nodded. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Tillot. Thank you for the sandwiches. I'm glad...I'm glad the girls are safe. I...I wouldn't want anything to happen to Fox's sisters. I..." She turned away. She couldn't talk anymore and couldn't deal with anymore. She was just too tired and too heart sick. She couldn't be impressed by her mother-in-law's kindnesses either, not now, not with Fox laying here like this, not knowing that the woman had never once called when he had been in Alaska. "Tell your wife that Fox woke up before and asked for her." She managed reaching into her purse for some kleenex.

She couldn't be cruel either. It simply wasn't in her nature.

Ed knew that he had been dismissed. He couldn't say he blamed the woman. No matter what Dr. Scully's past might or might not be, he didn't think she was the evil creature of his wife's sometimes tortured mind.

Chapter 8

In the early hours of the morning, Dana finally had to leave.

"I have to go, Spook," she said softly, "for just a little while.

I have to clean up and give my statement, and if I don't take a shower, no one will come near me. I'll be back, sweetheart. You keep resting, and I'll be back. Maybe by then you'll be awake again. I love you." She smoothed away his hair and gently kissed his forehead.

"Remember, I love you more than anything. If you get better, I promise I'll even try to love that stupid parrot." One more kiss, and she left him.

Dana showered and started to change, but passed out on the bed.

It was past 8:30 when she woke up again. She dressed quickly and headed down to the police station. Johnson was there along with Dwayne and Deke. Dana called Skinner and told her that Fox seemed to be holding his own. She asked him to call her mom and let her know.

"No problem, Scully. I want you to remember, we are there for you. You don't have to handle everything alone."

"I know, and thank you, Sir." Dana hung up the phone. A part of her wished for her mother's presence, but in truth, she really didn't want to talk to her about what a nightmare her life had become. How could she possibly explain it? Dana pulled herself together one more time. She then gave her statement. Dwayne and Deke were astounded at how coherent and businesslike she managed to be considering the stress she was under. The report was clear, concise and to the point about how they had discovered Dennehy's very old conviction on child porno charges and arranged to raid his old farmhouse, listened to what he had said, and gone after Mulder at Jensen's place.

"In the beginning," said Smithson when she had finished, "I thought Mulder was a nutcase. I mean, I thought he was trying to set me up when he came to me with this crazy theory about the Senator. Call it paranoia, but he does have a certain reputation, Dr.

Scully. Then I began to dig a little deeper. I was actually waiting on a report from the State of Vermont when we dug up Dennehy's old conviction. That seemed to prove Mulder actually was crazy, but his theory stayed in the back of my mind. It seems that Jensen and his wife had one child, born in 1948. She died suddenly when she was 8 years old. No cause of death was ever established. An autopsy showed nothing. It was listed as heart failure. Other than that, the Senator's record was clean, too clean for a public figure in my estimation. I'd be willing to bet that he killed her, that she was the first victim. We found the ashes in an urn on the mantel, but there isn't much to work with. We also found a small silver box containing baby teeth, apparently his daughter's baby, stored in a small silver box next to the jar of teeth from the bodies in the graves."

"What a monster," sighed Dana. "God, he must have ripped the teeth out of the skull." She shuddered. How that must have haunted Fox, and he had kept it all inside, never discussing it with her, never confiding. It angered her, but it also made her hurt for her husband.

"The odd part of it is," said Bothrington, "that Dennehy claims he has never touched a child, and I believe him. He's a voyeur. He likes pictures, but he claims to know that he's not normal, and has a moral imperative against actually touching a kid. He's a devout Catholic and goes to mass every morning. He says he never liked Jensen, and has been suspicious of the guy from the moment the bodies were uncovered. He didn't dare say anything though. No one would have believed him. Jensen has always been Mr. Nice Guy, the perennial good neighbor, and of course, he had power and money. Go figure. A pedophile with a heart and conscience!"

"Where did he get the baby shoes?" asked Dana.

"Stole them. He would see a baby in a carriage and lift the shoes. Weird, yeah, but I guess it could have been a hell of a lot worse. He'll probably get probation for his help in catching Jensen, go back to his farm house and never bother anyone again." Deke shrugged.

"We gave him a good strong lecture on how taking those dirty pictures hurts kids. You know, he doesn't seem to have thought about it. He may have inherited some family money, but I don't think he inherited very many brains. I mean, he isn't very intelligent in some ways. When we told him, he cried. Thought I'd heard it all."

Bothrington looked at Dana. "By the way, this came for you a little while ago."

"Thank you." Dana tore the envelope open with hands that were a little shaky.

"Thank God," she whispered.

"Not his sister?"

"No. I don't think he could have handled that right now. I have to get back to the hospital. I'll...I'll get to work with dental charts as soon as ...well, I know something definite about Fox..."

"No rush now, Dr. S.." smiled Both, "You go look after that man of yours."

"Thanks, guys. Thanks a lot."

Dana stopped for some breakfast, knowing that if she didn't get some solid food into her she was going to drop. She hated to take the time, but she had learned the hard way, that when you were needed, you couldn't let yourself fall apart. You had to take care of yourself at least a little, or you would end up on the floor and of help to no one. She ate quickly and returned to the hospital. The moment she arrived, Dana knew the nightmare wasn't over, the inevitable was about to happen. As she stood in the door to his room, she saw a lovely gray haired woman sitting there quietly talking to her husband, who was still not conscious. Her clothes were impeccable. Not a hair was out of place. She was a far cry from Dana, who had just about managed to comb her hair, brush her teeth and put on some jeans and a blouse in the morning. When the woman looked at her, she knew it could be no one other than Fox's mother. They had the same beautiful eyes.

"Mrs. Tillot..." acknowledged Dana with a nod. Warily, she stepped into the room. She looked at Fox's vital signs on the monitor. They were stronger, but he appeared to have become comatose again after that brief period of wakefulness.

"You are that Irish woman, his partner." Teena glared at her thinking about Samantha.

"I'm his wife, Mrs. Tillot," said Dana softly. "My name is Dana." For Fox's sake, she thought, she would try to be civil to this woman.

"I had my daughter back. I had my beautiful sweet Samantha back.

What did you do? What did you do to my son that he would give away his sister for you?" asked the woman with venom in her voice. "Did you seduce him? Did you lie and tell him you were pregnant?"

"It wasn't Samantha, Mrs. Tillot. There's a good chance that Samantha may still be alive."

"I don't believe you. Why should I? My son never would have traded his sister away, never, unless you'd done something to him. I won't accept it. I won't accept the fact that my son married a conniving whore..."

"That's enough," exploded Dana. "I'm not a whore. I'm not.

Your son proposed to me because he loved me. That woman was not your daughter, and Fox will, my husband will... tell you himself, if he lives."

"Liar."

"I'm sorry you lost a daughter, Mrs Tillot." Dana was really angry now. She was trying not to raise her voice. She glanced at her husband and was glad he was asleep. She prayed he couldn't hear this. She knew sometimes people in comas heard everything. "But you aren't the only one who has lost a child. My mother lost a child, my little brother. He was two. I was nine. Mom was eight months pregnant and asked me to watch him while she went into the house for a minute. He got away from me. He ran toward the street. A car jumped the curb and killed him. He got away from me, and he died. My baby brother died. The difference is that we had no money for psychiatrists and nervous breakdowns. We could barely pay for the funeral, and mom got to come home and do laundry and watch her other four kids. Then, two weeks later, she had another baby to care for.

That meant five living kids to look after. They never even had a chance to grieve."

"Well, at least they knew," Teena retorted though she was somewhat shaken by the younger woman's words. "At least they knew, and it made sense."

"Brendan was killed by a f-----g drunk driver," hissed Dana using the word she never used. "That makes about as much sense as aliens from outerspace or Senators killing little girls. And you know what else, Mrs. Tillot. My mom and my dad, they were there for me the whole time. It was my fault, mine. I was supposed to watch him. I tried to save him, but I couldn't catch him It was my fault. My mom and my dad, they took me in their arms, and held me, and we all cried together, and they never held it against me. I let their baby boy die, and they never held it against me. Where the hell have you been, Mrs. Tillot? Your son has spent his whole life hunting for his sister, his whole life, and where the hell have you been? You didn't even return my calls when he was dying in Alaska. My mom helped look after him when he came home, not you. Me and my mom. The poor Irish woman, with the dead baby, whose funeral wiped out their life's savings and her so called whore of a daughter. You never even invited your son home for the holidays." Scully stood there glaring at the woman, her fists clenched, all the pain of her childhood coming to the forefront to join the pain of this past week.

"My girls...I was afraid something would happen to my girls..."

Teena said quickly.

"You were afraid you might have to think of someone other than yourself," raged Dana. "He loves you so much he's already asked me for a divorce, and you never even invited him home for Christmas. Get out. For now he still my husband, and I love him, so just go and let me be with him. Now."

Dana turned her back to the woman and waited until she had left.

Then she lowered her head onto the bed and cried. Finally, she could no longer contain her tears. Unbeknownst to Dana, Teena stood watching in the doorway.

Chapter 9

Teena Tillot stood in the doorway of her son's hospital room watching the young redheaded woman that was his wife weeping over him.

She stood stock-still, her heart pounding, as her daughter-in-law's broken words reached her ears.

"Oh, Fox," she wept, "I tried -- I tried so hard. I'm so sorry -- I should have tried harder to understand. But it hurt so much, Spook -- and I didn't know . . . she hates me. Your own mother hates me... She doesn't understand about Sam . . . I hardly understand it myself. That you should choose *me* -- but she can't understand that it wasn't Sam, that you've never stopped looking..." Her sobs grew louder. If he died she would lose him twice. She would lose her best friend and partner; but through his request for a divorce she had already lost her lover and husband and the father of the children who would never be born now. She wouldn't even be a widow if he died, not really, because he had stopped loving her -- not even the memory of what they had could sustain her anymore.

"Oh, Spook," she said, and on her lips, as always, the hated name lost all its sting, "we got the results back on the body. It wasn't Sam -- do you hear me, Fox? It wasn't Sam. She's still out there somewhere."

And then her heart leapt with a great hope. Maybe she could still keep a part of him for herself if he lived. It wasn't all she wanted but it would be better than having nothing at all. "Mulder," she said quietly, trying to keep her voice steady, "Mulder, Samantha is still out there.

You have to find her. We," she choked, "*we* have to find her. No matter -- no matter what happens between us I will still be your partner, if you will have me. We will search for Sam and we will find her -- together we will find her." And then her voice broke again. "Please, please, Fox I can't bear to search for her alone..." And then she wept.

"Oh, Fox... How many children? Sam -- and Brendan . . . and . . ." she was choking now, her words barely coherent to the woman standing spellbound in the hallway, ." . . and our little one, our baby, so young we'll never even know whether it was a boy or a girl..." Dana Scully was no hysterical woman, but all her defenses were gone. She broke down completely now, her slight body racked by sobs as she wept for herself, wept for Fox, wept most of all that there would never be any little boys and girls with Fox's gentle hazel eyes and his teasing grin. She would lose him, whether to death or to divorce, and in losing him she would lose herself.

Finally she wept herself out and stood up, wiping her eyes. She glanced over at the doorway. It was empty -- Teena Tillot had stood unseen and listened and then slipped away unnoticed. She turned back to the bed.

He was so still, and so beautiful, this man she loved. She would always love him -- always, even if he left her. She felt a pang at the emptiness in her body, the emptiness she knew would never leave her again. No baby in her arms. No baby inside her. And worst of all, no Fox inside her, warm and strong and gentle, holding her in the night, kissing and caressing and loving her, no Fox teasing her with his quick jokes and lightning wit, no Fox at her side in search of the truth . . . no Fox . . . no Fox . . . no Fox ever again... She felt suddenly cold. Would she ever be warm again? Suddenly as she looked at him the temptation was too strong. Once more. She would hold him just once more before she lost him forever.

She slipped her shoes off and pulled back the covers and slid into bed beside him. She rested her head carefully on his upper chest, her forehead tucked into the curve of his neck that had always felt like it was made just for her. She tucked one hand under the small of his back and carefully slid the other up around his neck so that she was gently embracing him. There. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine that they were in their own bed at home, the peacefulness of the dark apartment wrapping them in warmth and love and safety. There was always so much love there at home.

And then the tears stung at her eyelids and she wept again, silently, knowing that her apartment would never truly be home again.

The tears slid down her face but she would not let him go even for a moment to wipe them away. And finally, physically and emotionally worn out, she slept.

In her exhaustion she never noticed the moment when Mulder slipped from unconsciousness into natural sleep.

*****

Warm. So warm. Dana Scully smiled drowsily. It was morning late morning by the feel of it -- and she was lying in her husband's arms. She sighed happily. Heaven. She shifted slightly. His arm tightened around her and she smiled again. It was a trick she had learned early on and she used it often just for the simple joy of feeling him pull her closer to him, as though they could never be close enough. His chest was warm and firm under her face and his smell seemed to cling to her hair and skin as she slowly, gently rubbed it against him. She could hear his heart thudding strongly under her ear. She reached up and brushed his throat with her lips, tasting his familiar and exciting taste. If she opened her eyes she would see him smiling down at her, his eyes soft and hazy with love, his face relaxed in contentment.

Or perhaps he would still be asleep and she could watch him for awhile, admiring the still, carved planes of his face, the cleft in his chin that seemed to follow up through his lower lip in the form of that eminently kissable and delicious crease, his long eyelashes making curved shadows on his cheeks, before temptation finally overcame her and she awakened him in one of the several ways she had before.

And then other details began registering on her senses. Mulder's smell was accompanied by the faint odor of rubbing alcohol. The warmth that had soaked into her bones from his body could not ward off the chill on her bare foot which had somehow escaped the cocoon of covers. The sheets themselves felt thin and rough, not the soft, thick, crisp cotton or flannel sheets of their own bed. And over the rhythmic sound of his breathing and heartbeat she could hear a mechanical beeping sound.

And then it all came back to her with a cold, chilling clarity and she allowed a single, choked sob to escape her throat when she remembered that she was in a hospital room, Fox's hospital room, and that she was holding her comatose, possibly dying husband, and that their last words had been of a divorce.

She snuggled deeper into his arms, desperately wishing for the release of sleep, a blessed return to that deep, dark place where Mulder was alive and still loved her. Where they still had a future.

She closed her eyes as his arm tightened around her again and wished...

And then her eyes snapped open. His arm *was* around her, *had* tightened around her -- she was certain of it. Slowly she lifted her head.

And gazed right into Fox Mulder's eyes, hazy with tenderness and concern. She gave him one amazed, hungry look and flung her arms around him and wept.

"Shhh . . . it's okay, lo-- Dana," he soothed. "It's all right."

She clung to him for a moment and then pushed herself resolutely away. "I'm -- sorry," she muttered, trying to pull herself into a sitting position. In doing so she missed the cloud of disappointment and sorrow that crossed his face.

"Oh, Dana," he whispered brokenly, "can't you -- please, can't you give me another chance?" She turned to stare at him, amazed.

"Give you -- but I thought you wanted..."

"Wanted what?" he whispered, his eyes wide with pain.

"A -- a divorce," she forced herself to say, closing her eyes against the anguish of the word.

"I never . . . I thought..." They looked at each other.

"Fox," she said slowly, almost timidly, "you said -- over lunch you said you wanted..."

"I said I'd give you . . . if you wanted a divorce I would give you one," he whispered, fear and hope warring on his face.

"No . . . oh, no . . . I never . . . " she broke off and they stared at each other again.

And then they were in one another's arms holding each other, tears of joy and anguish streaming down their faces. "Oh, Dana -- I love you so . . . never -- please, never leave me," he whispered.

"Wolf -- oh, Fox, I thought I'd lost you . . . I'd never leave you . . . I'll stay as long as..."

"Forever," he whispered against her hair, and then their mouths met in a deep, passionate kiss of joy and understanding and forgiveness and unconditional love. Finally he pulled back, shaken, and tucked her into an embrace as tight as his injuries would allow.

She lay in silence for a moment. Then, "Fox..."

"What, sweetheart?" he asked softly.

"I -- I started my period last night. I had hoped . . ." she broke off as the tears began again. He rocked her gently, understanding the depth of her sorrow.

"That's okay, Shorts," he whispered. "When I get all better we're gonna try again and keep trying until we get it right."

She had to smile at that. "Promise?" she whispered back.

"Promise," he murmured against her mouth.

"I love you, Spook," she said softly. His eyes filled with tears. There was still so much they had to work out, still so much left to say. But their words of reassurance and love had spanned the gap that misunderstanding and anguish had created, and the chasm no longer yawned as large and forbidding as it had. Now they were, if not yet on the same side, at least working towards one another. Now they could begin to heal.

They were both exhausted, and it was not long before they slept again. But this time they slept the sleep of deep happiness instead of grief and pain. And when the nurse came in to give Mulder his medication and found them she noticed that the lines were gone from his forehead for the first time since he had been admitted and that his pretty doctor wife had a faint smile on her face instead of the look of perpetual worry and anguish she had worn for the past few days. She looked, the nurse thought, at least ten years younger. And with a smile of her own she left without administering the painkiller to report these facts to the doctor.

Chapter 10

"Doctor . . ." the young woman turned to find a petite lady standing in front of her, biting her lip. She was beautiful, with dark hair only touched with gray and clear blue eyes clouded with worry. Looking into those eyes the young resident reestimated the woman's age. She had guessed her to be in her forties, but now she estimated that she was a decade older.

"May I help you, ma'am?"

She nodded. "I hope so. I'm looking for Fox Mulder."

The doctor started in surprise. "You're not his mother . . . you must be..."

She nodded again. "His mother-in-law. I'm Margaret Scully."

*Dana's mother. Of course. The same build, the same blue eyes, the same beauty, somewhat faded by years and worry, of course, but...* "This way, Mrs. Scully."

"Is he. . . ?"

The younger woman smiled. "He came out of the coma early this morning."

Margaret Scully sighed and breathed a quick prayer of gratitude.

She had driven as quickly as she could, mentally preparing herself for whatever lay ahead. Walt had wanted to accompany her but he was right in the middle of an investigation, so he had instead sent with her his cellular phone and his car with federal plates and the promise that he would personally pay any speeding tickets. She knew, deep down, that Skinner's concern for the young couple was not just as the daughter and son-in-law of his future wife; the Assistant Director sincerely cared for his two wayward agents in spite of -- or perhaps because of -- the difficulties they had caused him. She remembered that he had once confessed in a lighter moment that Fox Mulder reminded him of himself at a younger age.

Margaret paused in the open doorway, her eyes suddenly tender.

They lay clasped together on the narrow bed, her youngest daughter and the man she loved, her head tucked under his chin, his face buried in the red hair that fanned out across the pillow. There was something slightly odd about their posture, though -- and then she realized that Mulder was curled up against Scully and she had her arms wrapped tightly around him as though she were trying to enfold his much larger body with her own. There was something not quite right -- almost a sense of desperation in the way they clung to one another. Stepping closer, she could see the tracks of tears on both their faces. If Fox had awakened and Dana had been there, surely there would have been tears of joy on both sides. Still, she wondered... She sank carefully to the chair beside the bed and watched them sleep.

*****

Dana Scully awoke with a start. Her husband was stirring in her arms, moaning softly. In an instant she went from drowsy incoherence to competent wakefulness, the doctor in her snapping her mind into full alert.

"Fox -- Fox, it's okay," she soothed him. "I'm here, Fox..."

His eyelids fluttered open. "Dana?"

She smiled at him, her eyes concerned. "Yes . . . I'm here, Fox.

What is it? Are you in pain?"

He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. She sighed. He hated to admit when he was sick or suffering. "Fox Mulder, either you tell me what's wrong or I'll *really* give you a reason to cry..."

She broke off at the sound of a soft chuckle behind her and swung to see her mother watching them with a wry smile on her face. Tears came to Scully's eyes. *Thanks, Mom -- I really needed you here.* She gave her mother a brief smile and then turned back to Mulder. She struggled to sit up and then bent over him. "Mulder, talk to me."

He shook his head, his face contorted.

"Okay, you're *gonna* get some of the good stuff whether you tell me where it hurts or not, so you might as well. Come on, Wolf," she whispered seductively in his ear, "I have to protect my property, you know -- reassure me -- tell me it's not one of the *important* parts..."

His eyes flew open, startled, and he stared at her. Then he smiled -- more of a grimace, really. "No, Shorts -- it's not one of the "important" parts . . . unless you consider ribs, shoulder, and back important, that is."

She smiled triumphantly. *It worked! Guess I'll have to remember this tactic...* "Oh, but Spook," she said softly, "I consider *all* your parts important -- and very, very necessary." She reached for the call button and summoned the nurse, then slid back down and took him in her arms. "They're going to give you something to help, Wolf, but I'm afraid it's going to knock you out, okay?" He simply closed his eyes and rested against her breast. When the nurse came in she spoke quietly, ordering a dose of painkiller and muscle relaxant. The other woman nodded.

"I came in earlier this morning but he was sleeping peacefully.

Despite what 'civilians' think, we don't like to wake patients up to give them pain meds if they can go without," she explained. "And sometimes TLC is the best medicine you can get." She picked up a bottle and syringe that had been lying in wait on a nearby counter and filled the needle, then injected the solution into Mulder's IV. "That should take effect almost immediately," she assured Scully, then turned and left.

*If I'd known his meds were there I could have given them to him myself,* Scully realized. Then she dismissed that thought. She didn't want to let go of him, not for a second, now that she had him back, now that he was awake -- and hers again. She smiled softly.

"Fox..."

"Hmmm?" The painkillers were beginning to kick in.

"I need to talk to Mom, and I think you'll rest better flat on your back for now, okay?"

"Mmm-mm," he protested, though his voice and movements were getting weaker.

"Come on, Spook," she whispered against his hair. "You made me a promise, remember? I need you to rest so you can get better and out of this hospital..." She allowed her voice to trail off suggestively. His eyes were half shut but she could swear she saw an answering gleam behind his eyelashes. She chuckled and bent to place a tender kiss on his lips. He did not respond. He was out. She sighed. "When I said I didn't want you fighting me, this is *not* what I had in mind," she murmured. There was an answering chuckle from behind her again. With a smile she brushed his forehead with her lips and carefully slid out of the bed, arranging his head and arms so that he would rest comfortably. Then she turned to face her mother, who had risen to stand by the bed.

"Mom . . ." her mother held out her arms and enfolded her daughter in a loving and protective embrace. Scully tensed for a moment, then sagged against Maggie, her body limp.

After a few moments Dana straightened up. Her mother pulled back and looked down at her. Her daughter's eyes were swollen and damp she looked as though she had been crying for hours, and she probably had, the older woman realized. Mrs. Scully dipped into her purse and brought out a Kleenex and handed it to Scully, then led her to the far side of the room where two chairs stood. As they passed the bed Dana glanced over at Fox, but he was sound asleep.

They took their seats and Mrs. Scully waited while her daughter finished wiping her eyes. Then she sat back and gave her mother a tremulous smile.

"You want to tell me about it?" she asked gently.

Dana sighed. "I thought -- this time I really thought I was going to lose him," she whispered.

Her mother regarded her closely. "He's going to be all right.

But that's not all, is it, hon?" she asked softly.

Scully shook her head and two tears rolled down her cheeks. "We -- before he got -- hurt, we had an awful fight. Not just an argument -- we've had those before and made up every time," here she smiled, thinking of just how they usually made up after those arguments.

"But this time -- it was different. We said -- horrible things to each other . . ." she trailed off again, looking miserable.

Maggie Scully sighed. "Dana, sometimes in a marriage you go through these -- troubled times. Your father and I did. My parents did. You'll go through more of them in all probability. You just have to remember, sweetheart, that Fox loves you and you love him and that when you come out on the other side of the fight you'll be waiting for each other."

"But, Mom -- this time I really didn't know if we would come out on the other side..."

Mrs. Scully sighed again. Her daughter had been hurt very deeply, she could tell. Would Dana and Fox ever have a chance at normalcy? Trouble just seemed to plague them, and it certainly had not stopped after their marriage. But this -- she hesitated for a moment, wondering whether or not to push.

"Sweetheart," she said finally. "If you want to talk about it I'll listen, but..."

That was all it took. Dana took one look at her mother's sympathetic face and began talking, her words tumbling over themselves in her urgency to unburden herself of her pain and fear and guilt.

How much she had loved him and for how long. The half-joking proposal. His refusal to make love to her until after they were married. The crazy wedding and their anxiety over anyone at the Bureau finding out and splitting them up. Then, blushing a little, how wonderful Fox had been, how caring and gentle, with her, on their wedding night. The stupid arguments they had had at Christmas about the razor and the tree and the coffee grounds on the carpet, and the joy of finding out that she was pregnant. His guilt over possibly causing the miscarriage. Her terror that perhaps *They* had done something to her during her abduction that would prevent her from ever having children. Fox's refusal to make love to her during those three awful months, and how much she had needed him, needed to know that he still wanted her the way she wanted him. The stupid parrot and the awful things she had said to him about finding another man -- things she had never, never meant but could not take back once they had been said. Then making up and praying that there would be another baby...

Then she took a deep breath and told her mother about finding out that Mulder had never told his mother that they were married. Of the pain and sorrow and betrayal she had felt when he had taken off his ring and left it in D.C. How he had tried to reconcile with her at the inn but she had shut him out, physically and emotionally. Not about their conversation at the pizza parlor -- she couldn't tell even her mother that. The wounds were too deep and too fresh, only just begun to heal, and talking about it would only cause them to start bleeding again.

But she did tell her how much Mrs. Tillot hated her, and why, and then, with tears in her eyes, of finding out the night before that she wasn't going to have a baby after all, that Mulder might die and she would be alone again...

Margaret Scully reached for her daughter, tears in her own eyes, and held her for a long moment, stroking her hair. Dana had never been very forthcoming with her emotions -- she tended to hold everything inside until she could not take it any more. But when the dam burst... She watched Fox Mulder sleep, conflicting emotions -- anger, love, pity, even a slight tinge of amusement -- warring within her for prominence. They were more like than they knew, these two. Finally she sighed and drew back to look at Dana with a half-smile.

"Sweetheart, the problem with you and Fox is that you know just how to push each other's buttons. You know one another so completely that you know just exactly what will set him off just as he knows how to get to you. And because you are both so strong and strong-willed . . ." *don't pull any punches, Maggie* . . . "and *stubborn*, you push those buttons every time." Dana nodded dully. Her mother took a deep breath and went on. "Darling, you have to realize that you and Fox are able to *hurt* each other so much because you are able to *love* each other so much. As I listened to you talk one common theme kept coming up. You hurt each other the most not by disagreeing about money or relatives or how big a Christmas tree to buy. You do it by *withholding* yourselves from one another -- whether emotionally or physically or psychologically. The capacity for great joy is matched by the capacity for great pain. And this is your marriage's greatest hazard -- *and* its greatest saving grace. Because when you punish him by withholding yourself from him you are also punishing *yourself*."

She took another deep breath. Now for those dragon-infested waters. "Sweetheart," she continued softly, "I think that when Fox refused to make love to you for those three months he was -- perhaps -- punishing himself as much as he was trying to protect you. He has always taken the responsibility for Samantha on himself, and while you were -- gone -- he blamed himself for being unable to protect you.

And so I think that maybe he was blaming himself for not being able to save your baby as well. I know," she hurried on, raising a hand to forestall Scully's objections, "I know that it wasn't his fault. But Fox," and here she looked over at him tenderly, her earlier anger dissipated, "Fox has a very protective nature. He has come to believe that the only way he can show his love is by being protective sometimes overprotective. That's why he never explained to his mother about Sam, why he agreed not to tell her you were married. Why he risked his life to save his sisters."

She smiled lovingly at her daughter. "You fascinate him, Dana, but you also scare him. You're strong and independent and fully capable of taking care of yourself. He loves and admires and respects that about you, and deep down he loves the fact that he has finally found someone strong enough to take care of *him* as well."

She paused. "But it also frightens him, sweetheart. He's convinced himself that he is responsible for everyone he loves. But you don't like to be coddled, and you won't let him be overprotective.

I think he sees that as a rejection of his love, Dana. And he hasn't yet figured out another way of loving you."

The younger woman stared up at her in shock, realization dawning on her face. The investigation -- he saw the way I was working with Both, without his help -- that I could take care of myself and the case, too -- he thought I didn't need him... The miscarriage -- he equated making love with putting me in danger -- he wouldn't touch me for three months because to him that *was* love -- and he saw my attempts to seduce him as a rejection of that protective love of his... Not telling his mother was his way of protecting *me* as well as *her*... Even his offer of a divorce was because he thought he was holding me back professionally and personally. It all makes sense in a Mulderish sort of way.

She nodded at her mother, tears starting to her eyes. "I think I understand," she said softly.

Her mother nodded back. "So what do you think the answer is?"

She watched curiously as Dana took a deep breath, wiped her eyes, and smiled.

"I guess I've got to learn to give in a little -- just a little -- and let him be overprotective once in a while. And I guess we've got to teach each other new ways of loving that help us both instead of hurting."

Mrs. Scully smiled. As usual, her brilliant daughter had hit the proverbial nail on the head. "He's still got a lot of the little boy inside him, Dana, the part that never really lived and so never really grew up."

She grinned affectionately. "Mom, for an amateur psychologist, you're pretty good."

She smiled back. "After six children, I should be..." Her smile faded a little. It had been many years, but she had never forgotten about Brendan. He would be a man now, perhaps with his own wife and children. She sighed a little. No one could ever take his place, but Fox Mulder had done a lot to ease that old ache. She looked at her daughter, knowing that she, too, would mark the years, all the little anniversaries they would have celebrated with the child they had lost. But now Fox was getting well, and hopefully . . . hopefully there would be other children to fill that emptiness.

She jumped up suddenly. "Oh, Dana," she exclaimed, "I forgot to call Walt -- he wanted to know as soon as there was any news."

Scully nodded and looked over at Mulder. "You go ahead. And tell him -- thanks for everything," she added.

Her mother looked at her and smiled. Dana Kate still looked absolutely exhausted -- when she came back she would insist that she go back to the hotel for a shower and a real rest; hopefully her baby girl had taken what she said about love and protectiveness to heart but there was a peace in Dana's eyes now. She glanced over at Fox, who was beginning to stir on the bed. Things would be all right for these two. They loved each other too much to remain apart for long.

She gave her daughter's shoulder a squeeze and went to call Walter.

Scully watched her mother leave the room and smiled. It had taken a while for her to get used to it, but Maggie was genuinely in love with Skinner.

She walked over to the bed and stood gazing down at Mulder. He shifted and reached out with his right arm -- for her, she realized with a pleasant shock. He winced -- the right side was the injured side -- and grasped at the covers beside him with his left hand, a frown flitting across his face. Then his eyes opened and she could see the disorientation and worry. She stepped closer to the bed. The movement caught his attention and his gaze snapped up to meet hers.

She smiled and was rewarded when he immediately relaxed, a faint smile on his own face.

"You had a good sleep," she informed him, walking around to sit on the bed beside him. He shrugged a little.

"I didn't know where I was at first when I woke up," he said slowly. "I wasn't sure . . ." his eyes flickered up to meet hers and he reached out his left hand, tentatively resting it on her knee.

She took his hand in her own and squeezed it reassuringly. "I'm here, Spook," she said softly. His face lit up.

"I thought maybe I had dreamed you."

She slid her legs up onto the bed and lay back against the pillows, her head on his shoulder. He slid his arm around her and sighed contentedly against her hair. Then she felt him tense slightly.

"Did you get any rest, Dana?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Just earlier, when we were both asleep. I've been talking to Mom," she concluded.

"Dana, you really should get some slee . . ." he trailed off.

She smiled faintly. Evidently he had been doing some soul-searching as well. Now's the time to give a little, that small voice reminded her.

"You're right," she informed him calmly. Then she lightened her tone somewhat. "With all the rest you're getting these days I'll have to start sleeping just so I can keep up with you when they let you out."

His jaw dropped at her easy acquiescence to his concern for her.

What had Mom Scully been telling her daughter? Then he grinned. He had not been oblivious to the undercurrent and promise implicit in her teasing. Out of the hospital -- home again -- home with Dana making love to Dana again -- holding her -- he had thought he would never get to hold her again... He swallowed hard, tears in his eyes.

"Dana, I wish . . ." he trailed off.

"What do you wish, Fox?" She shifted to face him but he would not meet her eyes.

"I wish . . . I wish I had never taken off my ring," he finished miserably.

She propped herself up on her elbow to look down into his face.

His eyes were cast down and he plucked nervously at the sheet.

"I wish I had it here," he whispered. "I'm so sorry . . . so sorry I hurt you... It was mean . . . but I didn't do that to hurt you. I did -- other things to hurt you," he forced himself to say, "but not *that*. I wish..."

She bent and kissed him gently, then lifted her head and smiled into his eyes. "I wish every wish were so easy to grant," she said softly, slipping her hands around the back of his neck to undo the clasp of the chain she had fastened there earlier. When she drew the necklace away and held it up to his gaze he was surprised to see that there on the chain with the cross she always wore was his ring. He had been wearing it around his neck the entire time he was in the hospital and had never realized it.

He looked up into her eyes, which were brimming with emotion.

Knowing now as he did that she had despaired that their marriage was over, he understood that she had hung the ring around his neck hoping that it would somehow bring him back to her. He guessed that, in a way, it had -- her faith had.

I had the strength of your beliefs.

She refastened the cross around her own neck and held the heavy gold band out to him. "I was afraid Krycek would swallow it," she said with a forced laugh.

He looked at her in wonder. Krycek? "I would have wrung his little parrot neck if he had," he smiled back.

A healing silence passed between them and grew, filling the air with warmth and safety and love. He looked back down at the proffered ring and shook his head.

"No," he said quietly. "You put it on." He carefully slid his left arm from under the covers and held his hand out to her palm-side down.

She looked at him for a moment, looked at his hand. They had only been married a few months but already she could see a faint pale band on his finger where the ring had been. She kissed it gently, then slid the band onto his finger and kissed it again. Fortunately the swelling in his fingers had gone down enough so that it slipped on easily. In fact, she thought with a faint smile, perhaps it was actually a *good* thing that he had taken it off -- given the swollenness of both his hands the first few days after his admittance to the hospital they might have had to cut it otherwise. Of course, then she would have been able to justify buying him a ring to match the gorgeous set he had given her... She looked up into his eyes and suddenly it didn't matter anymore.

He reached up with his good hand and brushed her hair out of her face. "I'll never take it off again," he promised solemnly. "I love you, Mrs. Mulder." Then he chuckled. "MD," he said as if it were an afterthought.

Her eyes laughed down into his and she bent to kiss him. He responded eagerly, pinning her body against his with his right arm as their kisses grew hungrier and more passionate.

Cut it out, Dana -- he's not up to this, the rational part of her brain warned her. But the irrational part, as well as her entire body, wasn't listening. As usual.

Apparently, neither was his.

"Hem." They both jumped. Mrs. Scully was standing in the doorway smiling at them, a look of amusement and something else relief? pity? -- on her face. They blushed and separated sheepishly, Dana running her fingers through the already tousled hair that matched her now-flaming face.

"Sorry," her mother said shortly. She knew Fox needed his rest.

And she knew that they knew that as well. "Dana, honey, why don't you head back to the inn and get some rest? I'll stay here with Fox."

Scully opened her mouth to protest. Mulder gave her hand a little squeeze. "You heard the lady, Shorts. You wanna be able to keep up with me when I get out of here, remember?"

Maggie watched with interest as her daughter's blush heightened another shade and wondered what she had missed. She turned around and began rummaging aimlessly in her purse when Dana bent back over her husband and did not turn back around until she heard the creak of the bedsprings as the younger woman stood up.

Fox held his wife's hand in his own for a moment. Their eyes met and once again Mrs. Scully was aware of the silent communication that flowed between them. Then Dana smiled and gave his fingers a final squeeze.

'"I'll be back in a few hours," she promised, and then left hurriedly as if forcing herself to go.

Maggie settled down in the chair next to her son-in-law's bed and opened her book.

"Mom," he said quietly.

"Fox, you promised to rest..." She glanced up and caught the look in his eyes. "What is it, hon?"

"Thanks," he said simply. She reached for his hand and squeezed it, nodding. He sighed and eased back against the pillows. Soon he was fast asleep.

She sat watching him for awhile. He was a good man, her daughter's husband, and he loved Dana very much. With only faint surprise she noticed that he was now wearing his wedding ring.

Leave it to Dana to think of everything. She smiled and settled down to read and watch and wait.

Chapter 11

After the confrontation with her daughter-in-law, Teena Mulder drove home with hands that she could barely keep steady at the wheel.

When she arrived, she left the car in front of the house and went into the den to sit before the fire. She was feeling terribly cold.

Glancing out the window, she saw that it had started to rain again.

She thought idly that it was April showers that were supposed to bring May flowers, but it was only March. It was better than snow, she supposed. She shivered. Her mind wouldn't quite focus for several minutes. Graciously, she thanked Pearl, who seeing her distress, brought her a pot of hot tea, Pearl, who had always had a hug for her little boy when she had come to clean the house and help cook for the dinner parties she and Bill had frequently thrown. Pearl had always seemed to understand Fox. She remembered the way the boy's eyes had lit up when he had seen her. Even as a baby, he had waved his little arms in delight and couldn't wait until Pearl had taken him and fussed over him. Teena thought idly that the dismal weather was perfect for what had been happening in her life, her neighbor being a child murderer, her daughters nearly getting killed, her son lying in a hospital. What a fool she felt like for inviting Fox to that dinner party as a partner for Irene, when all along he had had a wife at the Captain's Inn. Had she become such a basket case that no one had had the nerve to tell her the truth? Was she such a weak woman that she couldn't handle the truth? She sat before the fire in her elegant mansion letting her mind drift over the past and present.

Finally, it focused on the past, on her little boy, her first baby. Teena shuddered remembering how afraid she had been of that birth, of Bill, of his reaction when he had discovered he had a son. It had all been so different with Samantha. Bill had been so happy, had doted on her after the birth, doted on her and their baby girl. He had spent time with Samantha, and he had never hit her, ever. Bill had told her more than once that it was necessary to discipline Fox strictly, to make a man out of him. His father had done the same for him. Samantha was different. She was such a sweet little thing, not difficult like Fox, and not a boy. Samantha had been calmer, much more placid even as an infant. She slept at night, and would sit and play with her toys, chattering to herself endlessly, not like her brother, who rarely slept and was always asking questions. Teena had seldom known how to answer his questions.

Somehow, the boy had made her feel inadequate, and it had seemed as though he had never listened. Fox just couldn't seem to sit still or obey his father, even though he knew he would get hit if he didn't.

She had always been on edge raising him. She had always been waiting for the next disobedience, the next spanking. Always. Of course, it wasn't until she had divorced Bill and married Ed that she had even begun to realize that fear of your husband should not even be a small part of the marital equation. By then, her son was gone.

Teena sipped her tea, and her mind wandered to the present, to the fight in the hospital that morning. Even as she felt angry at Dana, she found herself acknowledging the fundamental truth of the younger woman's words. She had never been a good mother to her little boy, had never understood him, and after Bill had beat him so badly, she had fallen apart and had never been the same. Not once had she fought for him, her only son. The best she had managed was to divorce Bill, and even that had been done with reluctance. She had been afraid to be alone. She had married Ed not long afterwards because she had wanted someone to take care of her. Eventually, they had had the twin girls. They had been very lucky, had had a good marriage. Perhaps it was more than she had deserved. Ed liked Fox. He would have taken the boy back into the house, but Teena had been reluctant. He had been doing so well with his aunt, and she hadn't felt that she could deal with him again. It had never even occurred to her that Fox might view this as a rejection of him, that it might cause him to blame himself even more for Samantha. She hadn't thought she could go through watching the discipline the boy required. She had had no idea that Ed never would have done the same things Bill had done, ever.

As she stared into the fire, she came to realize that she had always been protected from having to deal with life. There had been housekeepers and money, even when she had been married to Bill. The girls had had nurses and later a nanny. Ed had seen to it that nothing bad ever happened to her after she came out of the hospital.

He loved her very much in a way that Bill hadn't. Ed was a warm and generous man, sometimes too much so. She had come to love him, not in the same way she had adored Bill, but in a quiet gentle way. She loved her girls too, more than life it seemed sometimes, and yet not enough to know what they were really doing or to understand the reasons why. They had grown into young womanhood, and somehow she had missed it. She had still thought they were little girls. It had caused their rebellion, not a typical rebellion perhaps, but a rebellion that could have cost them their lives. They were, she realized, a lot like their older brother in many ways.

As her mind wandered back to the scene in the hospital again, it occurred to her that she had not had to think of anyone other than herself in any but the most superficial way in a long, long time. Oh, it was true she raised a lot of money for poor children. Many little ones had received medical care as a result of her volunteer work, but she had never had to touch the children, to feel the pain of the mothers seeing their sick children and having no money for doctors.

She hadn't had to touch them, just as she had not touched Fox when he had lain in the hospital, a battered frightened 12 year old boy. She, Teena, had attended luncheons, written letters, thrown dinner parties, and worked on the consciences of potential donors, but in the years since Sam had been taken from her, she had never once examined her own. She had shut her son away, relieved that he had gone to live with his Aunt Sophia, Bill's rebellious eccentric sister, who had told the Mulder family exactly where they could go, and had made herself wealthy with some sort of computerized fortune telling business.

It had been so pleasant to brag about her son at Oxford, about how he had won a full scholarship, about how he dated a woman of the upper classes, without ever having to find out what he really had been doing or feeling. It had been pleasant, and she'd gotten involved with her baby girls, hugging them and playing with them and leaving the dirty work to the nanny. It had been too easy not to think about Fox. Her current spate of honesty demanded the acknowledgement that a part of her had always blamed her son for what had happened to Samantha, because that too had been easier than blaming herself for going off and leaving a 12 year old boy in charge.

Pearl came in and interrupted her thoughts.

"Are you alright, Mrs. Tillot?" she asked concerned. Teena had been staring at the fire for hours. The elderly woman hoped her long time employer was not going to experience another breakdown. Although Mr. Tillot had tried to underplay it, the girls had apparently really been in grave danger. In the past, Teena Tillot had not dealt well with stress of that nature.

"Oh, yes, Pearl. Thank you." Teena looked at her watch. She realized that she had completely lost track of time. She roused herself from the chair and went to the phone. Teena had left therapy when the sessions had become too difficult, had hit too close to home.

She hesitated for a brief moment and then picked up the phone. She called information and got the number she wanted. She dialed it before she could change her mind. The therapist she had seen before had retired, but his daughter had taken over the practice. Teena made an appointment She was in deep turmoil. She didn't know how she was going to handle her problems, but the fiery tempered redhead, with her talk of her little brother being hit by a drunk driver, had touched something inside her. Teena knew that somehow, she had to try. Her feelings about the young woman were ambivalent at best, even now. Her daughter-in-law scared her more than a little. No one had ever talked to her the way Dana Scully had, not even Bill. Standing there, however, watching the young woman weep, listening to her words as she had talked to her comatose husband, had convinced Teena of one thing, however. Dana Scully loved her strange enigmatic son very much in way that no one else probably ever had, including herself. She had, she realized, truly become a sorry excuse for a parent.

"Pearl," called Mrs. Tillot, "I have to go back out again. Will you tell Mr. Tillot I probably won't be home for dinner."

"Yes, Mrs. Tillot," replied the woman.

At that moment the girls came in. They had gone back to school that day, and she could see that they were flushed with excitement.

Undoubtedly, they had spent the day telling everyone the details of their hair raising ordeal. Teena smiled at them and gave them both a big hug.

"I have to go out for awhile girls," she said.

"When can we see Fox, mom?"

"I'll check at the hospital. Maybe tonight. Okay girls?"

They looked at each other as their mother left. Somehow, something seemed different about her. She seemed to have had a purpose, and the hug had been very unusual for an after school hello.

Chapter 12

Teena crept slowly up to the door of the hospital room ready to flee if she saw Dana. She wasn't certain she had enough courage yet to face the younger woman again. She wanted to talk to Fox first if he was awake. Dana wasn't there however. Another woman was. She was older, about the same age as Teena, with hair that had once been jet black, but now had a bit of gray in it. She also had a lovely profile, strong. She was holding Fox's hand while he slept. Fox opened his eyes, and when his face lit upon the woman, he smiled, a beautiful smile of delight.

"Oh, hi, mom," he said. "I didn't think you'd still be here."

"I know. You expected your wife. I promised my workaholic daughter I'd sit with you while she went to catch up on things."

"She promised she would rest," he muttered.

"Well, perhaps she'll do that too. We can hope." Meg smiled at him.

"Oh, mom, I guess she told you what a coward I was. I couldn't even...my mother hates her, and I couldn't even tell her we were married, and I took my wedding ring off...I hurt your daughter so much..."

"You, a coward, Fox?" Margaret smiled, "I hardly think that likely." Dana had told her a great deal of course, but Margaret never doubted his courage, his judgment perhaps, but not his spirit and mettle.

"Her husband and I were afraid my mom would have another breakdown.

Of course, she found out, and they had a big fight. I don't know how to make it right," he burst out rushing his words, slurring them in his haste to unburden himself. "The worst of it is that Dana forgave me, and I didn't deserve it." He hoped he was being coherent. The pain killers made him hazy. He felt as though he were rambling, not making any sense. In retrospect, the entire incident didn't make much sense.

"My daughter loves you, Fox Mulder," said Margaret squeezing his hand. Fox was still very sick and still caught between a rock and a hard place. It was obvious that he couldn't think straight from the wounds and the medication. He needed some words of wisdom. The trouble was that, other than seeking out Mrs. Tillot and confronting her, Meg too was at something of a loss about what to do to help.

"I don't deserve her."

"Now that's silly. She can be a handful too, as I'm sure you well know." Margaret winked at her son-in-law. She had always known that Dana and Fox had a special love, an exceptional love, but that their life together wasn't always going to be easy. "Don't worry. It will all come right in the end. It always does. Remember something, Fox, part of the reason why you hurt each other so much is because you love each other so intensely. You are both stubborn," she smiled repeating for him what she had said to Dana earlier. "The most important thing now is for you to get well. You two have a baby to make. Gran is in Ireland waiting." She could see he was already drifting back to sleep. She smoothed his damp hair off his forehead.

"I'll try, mom," he sleepily. "But not tonight. I have a headache."

"I'll go and let you rest, Fox," said Margaret with a smile. Sick or not, at least his dry and unusual wit seemed to be intact. "You need all the sleep you can get."

"Thanks, mom," he murmured drowsily and dozed off again. He felt a little more peaceful. He had been afraid that when Margaret heard what he had done, she would stop loving him, and he hadn't wanted that to happen. He was all too cognizant of the fact that it was Margaret who really loved him the way a mother was supposed to and not his own.

Teena fled in the direction of the lobby ahead of Mrs. Scully. It had really hurt to hear her son call the other woman mom, and the way he had smiled at her when he had seen her hadn't eased the pain. .She recalled Dana's words, "You never even returned my calls when he was dying in Alaska. My mom took care of him when he came home..." Teena supposed she had only herself to blame. She hadn't wanted to talk to Dana Scully, so she hadn't contacted her son. She hadn't been able to see past her own anger. When Teena saw Margaret enter the lobby, she was struck by the woman's beauty and dignity. If she had been poor once, it didn't show now. She was well dressed and had an expensive diamond solitaire on her finger. Her face was lovely, the map of Ireland thought Teena, with the same blue eyes as her red haired daughter. Black Irish, thought the woman. She had been taught that the Irish were trash. Bill hadn't liked them, had detested even the Kennedys. Teena had accepted his opinion, just as she had all his opinions. She had always assumed Mrs. Dennehy, a sweet person, was the exception. She hadn't thought much about the other nice people she had known with Irish last names. She hadn't thought. Now, she suddenly wondered about this, just as she had begun to wonder about so much recently. Teena made a hasty decision. She stepped up to the woman.

"Excuse me," she said trying not to sound flustered, "but I believe you would be Mrs. Scully."

"Yes," she replied looking at the other woman. Margaret knew immediately that she was looking at Fox's mother. They had the same beautiful eyes. The woman was lovely, impeccable in a way that screamed of old money.

"I'm Teena Mulder Tillot. I know I have no right to ask, but I was wondering, could you... I..need to talk with you. Could you go to dinner with me?"

"Of course, Mrs. Tillot," replied Margaret, relieved that the woman had sought her out. "I'm looking forward to getting to know you better. I've never been to Martha's Vineyard. You'll have to lead the way."

It didn't surprise her at all when Mrs. Tillot took her to a very exclusive country club on the water front. It was growing dark, but Meg imagined that during the day, the view was probably lovely. The little she had seen of Martha's Vineyard was beautiful. Her mind turned ever so briefly to honeymooning. It didn't surprise her in the least either when the woman asked for and got one of the best tables, even though the club was very busy. Once upon a time, in her poor days, her days of second hand clothes and a baby every year, she might have been intimidated by her surroundings and by Mrs. Tillot. Meg had since faced down admiral's wives, however. Eventually, their financial situation had eased, and she had become an admiral's wife herself. Bill had left her comfortably well off, and raising three sons, Meg had learned never, ever to let herself be intimidated, even when surrounded by males who were two feet taller than her in the midst of temper tantrums induced by raging hormones. Her boys had all been 6 feet tall by the time they had been 13. Not a lot scared her.

Then too, of course, she had become engaged to the Assistant Director of the FBI, a formidable individual who could easily dominate you if you didn't handle him properly. That thought made her smile to herself.

The two women made small talk briefly and ordered a carafe of white wine and a sea food dinner. Then Teena got to her reason for the invitation.

"I...saw you with my son...at the hospital. I didn't want to intrude."

"It wouldn't have been an intrusion, Mrs. Tillot. He is your son." Margaret looked at her.

"He calls you mom...that hurts...but I'm trying...I think I understand..." She was silent for a long moment.

"Why don't you call me Meg?" said Margaret gently following the adage about catching more flies with honey than with vinegar. She might have liked to have told this woman exactly what she thought of her as a parent, but it wouldn't help. It would only make things more difficult for her daughter and Fox. This woman seemed rather childlike and awkward, for all her obvious wealth.

"Thank you. I'm Teena." Teena swallowed. It was time to take the plunge. "I hated your daughter, Meg. I really hated her. When my son told me he had traded Samantha for her... I thought...I thought that she must have done something to him to make him do that. I thought maybe she seduced him or...I don't know what I thought..."

"Maybe you didn't think, Teena," said Margaret quietly. "Perhaps you just let your emotions take over. Of course, it wasn't really your daughter, but perhaps you couldn't face that."

"They have always protected me, always...my husbands, especially Ed. I'm sorry, I'm not being coherent, but I hated her so much they were afraid to tell me that Fox had married her. When I found out, I called her awful names...there in the hospital. She has a fiery temper, that daughter of yours."

"At times," replied Meg. "She doesn't lose it often, but when she does, she is a formidable young lady. Takes after her dad." Meg smiled a little at the thought.

"She told me about your little boy, Brendan, about how she killed him and..."

"My daughter did not kill him, Teena." said Margaret adamantly.

"He was hit by a drunk driver. I went into the house and left him in her care for a moment. She was too young, and he too quick. If there was any blame, it was on my shoulders. It took me a long time to come to grips with it, believe me."

Teena nodded in acknowledgement. "It...it made me think...about what a poor mother I'd become to Fox...At first, when she told me that I didn't have to worry about her because Fox had told her he wanted a divorce, I was glad..." Teena stopped. She needed to compose herself. She felt tears coming and didn't wish to cry in front of a strong woman like Margaret Scully.

Margaret waited patiently, hiding her astonishment. It was another little detail Dana had failed to mention. Obviously, there had been some misunderstanding, but things must have gotten really bad between the two of them before they worked it out. Fox could not have been serious about a divorce. If he had said it, it must have been in the heat of battle.

"But then, I stood in the doorway and watched her crying. She seems to love him so much. I mean, she was devastated when she thought he might die. It's like...well, I remember feeling that way about Bill once, a long time ago...Fox's dad..."

"They do love each other, Teena," said Margaret softly, "very much. It's an exceptional love. It has never been easy for either of them, but they have hung in there in spite of everything, first as partners, then friends and then husband and wife." Margaret stopped for a moment and organized her thoughts. It still wasn't easy for her to talk about the time Dana had been in the hospital. She knew she had been too hasty in writing her daughter off as dead. There was guilt associated with that time as well as with Brendan. "Your son is very special. When my daughter was ill and dying, before they got married, he stuck with her until the bitter end. He was there for her long after we had given up hope. I had just lost my husband, and he was a rock for me."

"I...I want to try to make things right...I mean I don't know if I can...but I'm afraid she will...I don't know if I can...I don't want to be the cause of their divorce."

"Scared she'll snap your head off?" smiled Margaret. She patted the woman's hand. "I'll tell you something about my daughter. She feels just as badly about losing her self control as you do, perhaps worse. Go to the hospital tonight. Visit with your son. Dana will try her best to be civil. I can't say that you'll become best of friends over night. She's been badly hurt. I think it might be possible to start the healing process though, and there isn't going to be a divorce. It was a misunderstanding."

"Do you really think so?" asked the woman looking for assurance.

"You seem so strong. I don't know...I can't always seem to...cope..." Margaret found herself feeling a little sorry for Teena.

Obviously, her money really had been protecting her all her life. If she knew Dana, her daughter had talked to the woman in a way that she had never been spoken to before. Dana was, after all, Mary Elizabeth McBride's granddaughter, and when she finally spoke her mind, she didn't mince words.

"I really think so. I think that my daughter is prepared to love you if you will let her, and I don't believe anything could ever separate those two for very long."

Their meal came, and Margaret, an expert on making small talk to wives at the officer's club, lead the conversation away from Fox and Dana and on to other more neutral subjects. She was wise enough to know that it wasn't a good idea to interfere too much in her daughter's life. Dana and Teena would have to work it out as best they could. Somehow, she thought they would.

Dana had gotten some work done and even managed a shower and a nap. She left her mom at the Captain's Inn to relax and enjoy the atmosphere and was feeling much better when she arrived back at the hospital. Fox lay resting peacefully. She bent down and kissed his forehead. He opened his eyes and smiled at her, and then started to laugh. It died in his throat because it hurt so much, but she filled him with delight. In her hands were two huge Mylar balloons, one in the shape of a flying saucer and the other Marvin the Martian. She tied them to the chair so that he could look at them.

"Oh, wow," he smiled, "cool..."

"I thought you saved *cool* for marriage proposals," she smiled back sitting beside him taking his hand. She could see that her gift had delighted the little boy in him. He wore a similar expression to the one he had worn that day at Bunch Gardens as he had been manically running from ride to ride with his nephews. She hadn't understood it then, not really. It had annoyed her. Now she felt that she did. She was grateful for her mother's words of wisdom.

"Oh, yeah, that stupid proposal. I'm sorry, Dana. It was..."

"It was the most wonderful proposal in the world, even if you were kidding when you made it," she smiled smoothing his hair. "I expected to shock the hell out of you when I said yes."

"You did, Scully, you did. You shocked me, and you made my heart...you made me so happy in that moment, happier than I thought I could ever be." Fox tried to smile. His eidetic memory was rather fuzzy from too much codeine or whatever pain killers they were giving him.

"I called Mrs. Anderson and Krycek is fine," said Dana. "She thinks he misses you."

"Aw...well, you know...two bird brains..." he grinned.

Dana realized that the stupid bird also satisfied something of the child in him. She promised herself that she would try to get to like it.

At that moment there was a commotion in the hall. Four people tramped into the room, Ed Tillot, Jennie, Amy and Teena. Dana sat very still. Fox's hand tightened on hers briefly. The girls were like a whirlwind though. They too had brought balloons and popped themselves on the bed. One balloon was of Casper the Ghost.

"We thought you would like this because your nickname is Spooky," said Jennie giving him a peck on the cheek.

He glared at her. He wanted to wring their necks. He was furious with them for the trouble they had gotten themselves into with their snooping, but he couldn't be really mad. They were too cute.

"Thank you, Jennie." He swallowed. He was touched. Then Amy presented him with another of the space shuttle.

"When I'm feeling better, girls, you are going to get the lecture of your lives," he promised them.

"They've already had one," Ed informed him, "but feel free to do it again."

"We didn't mean for you to get shot." Both the girls looked pitiful. Dana found herself smiling a little. There was a distinct similarity between their expression and Fox's best little boy look.

"You couldn't have known, couldn't have guessed..." he swallowed.

He didn't like to think about what had nearly happened, "Hello, mom.

Hello, Ed."

"Fox," they acknowledged.

"This is Dana, my wife." He closed his eyes. "I..."

"Mr. Tillot," said Dana quietly, "Mrs. Tillot...Jenny, Amy..."

She managed a smile for the girls. "You will get a lecture from me too. It wasn't very nice going through my underwear draw."

"That was Jennie.. She was looking for condoms."

"No way. It was Amy..."

"Okay, girls, that's enough," laughed Dana. The parents looked totally shocked. They apparently had no idea the girls even knew what a condom was.

"Hello, Dana," said Teena softly, "I...I want...I hope...when you get a chance...maybe when Fox gets out of the hospital...you'll stay with us a few days...I want...I want you to tell me about the woman who was pretending to be my daughter...I need to know..."

Dana looked at the woman for a long moment. She still felt angry, but the woman seemed to be trying to reach out to her. For Fox's sake, she would go along with it, at least for the moment.

"Oh, please come," burst out the girls. "It would be fun to have an older sister!"

"I'll do whatever my husband wants," she said quietly. "And, yes, Teena, it would be good to talk to you about what happened." Dana knew of course that she couldn't discuss everything, but she could tell the woman enough to at least make her aware of reality and of what her only son had endured, of what it had cost him to make the decision that he had. She left it like that, not saying anymore. The visit didn't last long. Fox grew restive, in need of a pain killer, although he didn't complain athlete. Dana administered it herself, refusing to listen to any argument. His mom kissed him briefly before he drifted off to sleep, and they left. It hadn't been a total reconciliation, but it had been a start, a good start.

Chapter 13

Dana pulled up in front of the Tillot home and gaped. She should have known when she had driven through the lovely wrought iron gates attached to the high, lacy stone walls that she was not going to see just another Cape Cod style house. It was more like a mansion. Even in the dismal weather, you could tell that when the gardens started to bloom, the grounds were going to be stunning. One could see the ocean at this time of year through the bare trees. Dana was in awe. She was accustomed to her own apartment, or her mother's comfortable child centered home. She and Fox had never even approached the lifestyle that his money permitted them. The most extravagent thing they had done was to buy expensive Christmas gifts for her nieces and nephews and $200 worth of mostly purple underwear that Fox seemed enjoy tearing off of her in the throes of his considerable passion. Well, there had been Krycek. Fox had bought Krycek. He had been expensive, as well as nasty. Mrs. Anderson was an expert exotic bird breeder, and her parrots commanded high prices. Dana didn't want to think about Krycek, however. She opened the passanger side door and helped her husband out. He was having difficulty adjusting to having his right arm in a cast, or at least that was what he claimed, but the gunshot wounds were healing nicely, although he still walked with a pronounced limp and had some soreness in his side. He was very weak, however, and hadn't been eating much. His body had been through too much lately.

"Don't worry about the car," he told her. "The gardener will take it around back."

"Right, wouldn't want the old Honda trashing up the front yard or anything." Dana laughed out loud. He was glad to hear that sound. He had wondered recently if he ever would again. She and Fox had talked about trading in her old 1989 Honda Accord, but had never gotten around to it. It was "old reliable" after all, and Dana could remember struggling to make the payments on it, as well as rent on her apartment and student loans. It had sentimental value. This house, however, was more like Lexus country.

"Now I understand why my mom told me I better not ever forget how to scrub a toilet before she went home," chuckled Dana. Margaret had given this sage command upon returning from lunch with Teena Tillot the day before, but Dana hadn't questioned her then. Nor had she understood, until now.

They entered a large foyer hung with a beautiful brass and glass chandalier, and Fox was soon set upon by Pearl and his sisters.

Finally, Teena hugged her son briefly and a little shyly. She said hello to Dana.

"I'll show you both to the blue guest room," she told them. "I think you will be comfortable. I decorated it myself. Jake has already brought in the bags, I'm sure."

"Thank you," said Dana softly. Teena told her that is wasn't the biggest guest room, but the only one on the main floor. She thought that it would be best for Fox with his leg injury. In fact, Teena was surprised and more than a little worried about how weak her only son looked.

It truly was a lovely room, with a white wrought iron canopy bed, and two comfortable wing chairs flanking a working fireplace, comfortable foot rests and a small table where one could set a tea tray. French doors opened onto a small sunroom that would allow visitors to enjoy the rear garden and had a panoramic view of the ocean. Teena was, she realized, a very talented decorator. She praised the woman effusively. Teena seemed truly gratified that her talents were appreciated. One could leave the sunroom and walk to the beach.

Teena left them to get settled. They went into the bathroom, which was truly magnificent. It had a stall shower, a fabulous sunken tub that doubled as a jacuzzi, and even a bidet, something Dana thought dryly that she had little use for with her handsome husband in his current condition. Fox pretended he couldn't undo his fly.

"Worse than a three-year-old," smiled Dana doing it for him, giving him an unecessary rub in the process. "I'm going to the store as soon as I can and buying you sweat pants, maybe even bright pink sweat pants, for the duration."

"I'd rather have you unbutton my fly." He grinned. As he emptied his bladder, he eyed the bidet and told his wife that only his mother would put a water fountain in the bathroom

Dana rolled her eyes. It was Mulder humor at its worst, but she loved it. "Watch where you're aiming," she replied ascerbically.

Dana thought about how much she would like to soak in that tub with her husband and wishing that he could. It had definite potential for some very interesting activities. She sighed. He was in no condition, she realized sadly. Could he maybe...no...the poor man was so very weak. Not necessarily in the tub...no, no way, no where. Dana, get a grip on yourself... With a sigh, she helped him change and climb into the comfortable bed. He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow. She bent down and kissed his forehead.

"Three months and then some to make up for, and you go and get yourself shot," she said fondly to his sleeping figure. "What am I going to do with you, Fox Mulder? I guess not much, not for awhile."

She tucked the sheet around him a little more tightly and headed out to the main part of the house, at odds as to what to do with herself next.

She ran into Teena almost literally. The woman seemed to have just hung up a very elegant telephone.

"The girls just went to a friend's house to do some homework. It will keep them from pestering their hero and heroine." she explained with a slight smile. "Come sit by the fire and have tea with me."

"That would be nice," replied Dana, although she wasn't entirely certain how she felt about it. Pearl brought tea on a tray served in a Wedgewood pot. Teena poured with an expertise born of long practice.

She held out a plate of scones. Dana had forgotten how hungry she was.

"Thank you," she said politely.

"You're welcome. Is Fox settled in?"

"He fell asleep almost immediately. He needs a lot of rest," Dana sighed, "He has been through so much..."

"I want you to tell me all about it," Teena told her firmly. "All of it. My therapist, my new therapist, says that it is important that I listen to you. My old doctor retired. His daughter is so different...so understanding...I can talk to her...I mean...maybe I had the wrong therapist back then, Dana, but I don't want to blame everything on that, because...well, then I wouldn't be getting better...I guess..."

"It sounds to me as though you are," replied Dana. She was determined to be kind. As long as Fox loved her, she could afford to be. There were certain things she couldn't tell Teena, of course, but it was easy to change the aliens and clones into a terrorist group possibly looking to extort money. She sensed that Teena was really listening, trying to understand. When she had finished, the woman sat silently staring into the fire for a long time.

"You know, I only had Bill's side of the story...He made it sound...it was as though my son was so selfish...and...well you were...I don't know...I loved Bill once. I loved him so much that it hurt, but after being married to Ed...I just don't understand how he could have been so cold, or I could have believed some of the things he told me...I just don't understand why he never liked Fox."

"I think you were the victim of a wife batterer, Teena," said Dana quietly.

"He never hit me," replied the woman. Her therapist had already told her the same thing.

"Maybe he didn't have to. Perhaps, he battered y ou by withholding love from you."

Teena looked at her as though a light had just gone on somewhere inside her head. That was something Dr. Fielding hadn't told her, not yet, perhaps waiting for her to draw her own conclusions.

"Yes," she whispered softly. "Yes, he would retreat from me, and it was as though the world was going to end. I guess I am a sorry excuse for a woman."

"Mrs. Tillot, Teena, the man I was in love with before Fox nearly beat me to death. In some ways that is far easier to deal with. I knew I had to run, to run or be killed." Dana patted the woman's hand gently. "If you really love someone, and that person is often kind and affectionate...well, I would imagine it would be more difficult.

You keep going to therapy, Teena. It will work out. You'll see."

"And you'll forgive me?"

"Yes," she smiled, "I'll forgive you."

"Do you think Fox will?"

"I can't speak for Fox, but I do know that he loves you and adores his sisters. For that reason alone, you and I have to try to be friends, okay?"

"Okay, and I love your mother, Dana. I wish I was strong like her..."

"Perhaps if you h ad been in her situation, had had her wonderful family, you would have been, Teena. That's water under the bridge."

Dana felt she understood Fox's mother a little better. Once, Teena had loved Bill the same way that she loved Fox. The difference was that she had lacked the self esteem to stand up to such a domineering man.

Dana knew it wasn't easy. Fox shared certain traits with his father, the tendancy to retreat into solitude, to turn to stone and withdraw love. No, that wasn't quite right. Fox didn't withdraw his love. He hid it. The difference was that Fox didn't do it to manipulate her, and he would always do the right thing in the end. If he hurt you, he was always sorry later. Afterwards he was warm and loving, and there was nothing phony about it, nothing fake, and again nothing manipulative. When Fox wanted to manipulate, he used his little boy grin, or his best hurt puppy look. It was usually so obvious that it worked. Fox also lacked the brutality that Bill had seemed to possess. He had inherited much of his mother's gentleness as well.

Last but not least, he had married a strong woman who loved him, but who was also not afraid to stand up to him if the need arose. Still, Dana could comprehend now how difficult it might have been for Teena, a somewhat simple minded woman, loving Bill Mulder as she had, to break his spell upon her. Idly Dana wandered if there was something enchanting about all the Mulder men.

Fox began to recuperate in his mother's house almost at once.

That evening, after eating a huge meal of all his favorite childhood foods prepared by Pearl, he delivered the promised lecture to his twin sisters from the white canopy bed as they sat nearby. Jennie looked a little defiant, as though she still saw nothing wrong with walking into danger. Amanda, however, appeared more thoughtful and asked questions. Finally Fox ruffled their hair with his left hand and told them he was tired . He also promised that if they still wanted law enforcement careers, he would do all he could to help, as long as they promised to finish college and get good grades. Being taken seriously seemed to satisfy them, and with their hands behind their back and their fingers crossed, the pair promised not to do any more snooping.

He and Dana had laughed at that. The girls had no idea that their brother used the same trick, but that it had only worked once on Dana.

Before falling asleep that night, he kissed Dana's head gently wishing he could make love to her. He started to tell her how he missed their apartment and her cooking, but in mid-sentence, his eyes closed and he was instantly asleep. It didn't matter. She had gotten the message. Dana nestled down next to him and slept as well.

Dana spent time conversing with Ed and the girls and reading from the extensive collection of books from Ed's library. She read aloud to Fox, and when he fell asleep, she took long walks. Late one afternoon, she returned to find Fox's mother and sisters in the room.

Teena had an ice cream scoop and bowls. ` "Oh, come in, Dana." She smiled. She was growing fond of her daughter-in-law. "I went to Mad Martha's Ice Cream Factory and bought Fox's favorite flavor, pistachio."

In truth, Fox detested pistachio ice cream. It had been his dad's first choice, not his. His ability to communicate silently with Dana stood him in good stead in this instance. A look of his eyes told her to say nothing different. Although he didn't say it aloud, he said, "Just like my mom to muddle it. What can you do?" Dana's lipped quirked up at him.

"That was very sweet of you, Teena," smiled Dana. "I love it too."

Fox thanked her with his eyes as well, though neither of them missed the Snoop Sisters, a designation taken from the title of an old TV show, exchanging glances. The silent communication hadn't passed them by at all. Dana and Fox smiled knowingly. The pair was good.

With Jennie's aggression, Amy's insights, and some experience, they could easily become a lethal combination. In fact, they very nearly had, to themselves. The idea was to become lethal to the bad guys!

By his third day, Fox was starting to grow restless. Pearl's wonderful food, and the affection his family was displaying, along with Dana's love was working wonders. It was, Dana decided, time for him to begin moving around more. In anycase, they would have to leave soon, at least for now. She had to return to work. She couldn't justify taking much more time off because she was not on medical leave. Losing the pay wasn't a problem, but her expertise was needed.

Agents who weren't working didn't do the bureau any good, and she didn't want to put Skinner on the spot anymore than she could help. Although he never complained, she knew the interfamily relationships had to be causing him difficulties.

"Fox, why don't you put your pajamas and robe on and come watch tv with the family?" She had just finished washing his back gently, while wistfully thinking about how much she wanted to be in the tub with him instead of out here bathing him. She didn't dare however.

His arm needed to be carefully propped on the side, and she needed to wash his hair being scrupulous about not getting the cast wet.

"Okay, sweetheart," he said softly. He looked up at her and puckered his lips. She bent down and kissed him sweetly before helping him up, supporting his arm. He was getting better about getting his own things on with his left hand, but was still extremely awkward, and she still had to help him with the sling he was forced to wear. "Only three weeks," she thought, "then down to the half cast."

That would be easier.

Mr. and Mrs. Tillot were sitting in their respective chairs in the comfortable den, while the girls sat on the couch. In a moment of insight, Dana went to the end and the girls gently tugged their older brother down between them.

"They're about to do the wedding show on Mad About You," announced Amy leaning her head on the shoulder that was encased in the cast.

"It's so romantic," replied Jennie putting her head on his other shoulder. Dana slipped her arm across Jennie and put her hand gently on Fox's neck. "Mad About You" was one of her favorite shows. Fox only watched it because Seinfeld followed. They all lapsed into silence as the show began. They chuckled through all the wedding antics, the choosing of the dress, Jaimie eating every chance she got, the argument over the dinner. They adored the stupid marriage ceremony, performed in the middle of the night in Manahatten by the Con Edison worker/Justice of the Peace before the church ceremony in the morning. It was cute. It was wonderful. It was funny. It was perfect for 16 year old girls.

Teena had already seen it and sat with her book. She found herself watching the girls and her only son interact, however. They looked so sweet, and somehow Dana with them seemed to complete the picture. She realized that she had been so unfair in trying to keep her two families apart, so wrong. The girls needed their brother, and he needed them. They were blood, and in many ways they were a lot alike. And her son needed Dana as well. She was his anchor. Teena looked at Ed. In one of those moments of unspoken communication between man and wife, he nodded imperceptibly and smiled. Yes, his girls looked sweet. It was good that they were all becoming a family.

He was delighted at the changes that he saw fomenting in Teena. It seemed as though she were on her way to finally realizing her potential as a woman. He debated with himself about whether he had been wrong in protecting her so much over the years, but in the end decided that the time had probably just been right for her to begin to grow now, the time and the circumstances. He looked forward to the future with her.

Finally the show was over and the girls started quizzing Dana.

Did you have a big wedding? How many bridesmaids? How many people? Did you wear a beautiful dress? Do you have pictures? There were so many questions, she couldn't even get a word in edgewise to answer.

"I got married in a hospital room," Dana laughed finally. Amy looked across Fox and at her sister-in-law. This sounded interesting.

She thought that Dana had beautiful eyes.

"Was it Fox? Did he shoot himself in the foot or something?"

asked Jennie with a wicked grin. Fox threw his head back and laughed out loud. Dana thought it sounded wonderful.

"No, Jen, nothing like that," replied Dana.

As she launched into her tale of their wedding, Fox found himself feeling a little sad, not for himself but for her. Dana was so beautiful, and she had never had a chance to wear that lovely white dress, to be a fairy princess for that one special day in her life.

And, he realized, he had failed to keep his promise to her dad about marrying her in a church with a priest. It wasn't that he thought Bill would have disapproved of what he and Dana had done. It was just something he, Fox Mulder, had wanted to do. He wanted to be a dad like Bill Scully, and the emulation started with the adoration of Bill's daughter and respect for the family's religious tradition.

"That's so romantic!" the girls burst out simultaneously as Dana concluded her story.

"What about the honeymoon? Did you go away anywhere special?"

Teena asked joining in.

"Just to Dana's apartment," smiled Fox.

"But what did you do?" asked Jennie.

"That's a stupid questions, Jens," Amy informed her. "You know what they did!"

"As I recall, we fought about who was going to clean the carpet," laughed Fox.

"You must have tried to make a baby! Oh, you two would have such pretty babies!" exclaimed Jennifer. "I can't wait to be an aunt."

Amanda noticed the brief but uncomfortable silence. She looked at Dana. Her expression had changed. She looked suddenly sad. Dana was no coward however.

"You will be one day, honey," she said softly.

"I tell you what," said Fox diplomatically. "Let's watch the end of Seinfeld. It's my favorite show. When it happens, you girls will be the first to know besides us and the doctor. I'm sure it will be soon. Okay girls?"

"Okay!" replied the girls with a big grin. That sounded just fine to them. "Hope it's real soon!" Amy, however, was thoughtful.

They watched the end of Seinfeld and then a little bit of the news, but Fox was really growing tired. Dana was sleepy herself from all the long walks in the salt air, and even Teena yawned. It was time to call it a night.

Chapter 14

Because of Mulder's injuries they had been given the guest suite on the ground floor to prevent his having to navigate the stairs.

Teena Tillot stood when they rose to leave and hovered nervously near the couch as Dana helped Fox to his feet.

"There's a service bell if you need anything," she reminded them for the umpteenth time.

Ed laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure *Doctor* Scully is perfectly capable of handling any problems," he said firmly.

Scully shot the big man a look of quiet gratitude. She had not known Fox's stepfather for long, but she felt she had gained a powerful ally in Ed Tillot.

"Yes -- of course," her mother-in-law stammered. "I only meant..." She trailed off uncertainly.

Dana took pity on the older woman. "This is a big house," she agreed. "I appreciate your concern. We'll be certain to ring if we need anything."

Mulder watched this exchange with some surprise and not a little interest. His mother was obviously going out of her way to be polite to Dana and Dana -- well, Dana was almost invariably polite, but now she seemed almost to be bending over backwards to be gracious.

He knew well and good that his wife would not call for help for anything short of emergency surgery -- and even then, he thought with a grin, she would probably have a decent head start before assistance arrived. She was strong and brilliant and fiercely independent, and he loved that about her. It thrilled him that this incredible woman had fallen in love with him. He was just afraid at times that she was so strong that she didn't need him the way he had finally admitted to himself that he needed her.

He straightened up painfully and Dana put an arm around his waist, to steady him, she told herself. But the feeling of her fingers through the thin cloth of his shirt just above the waist sent chills through him and had a distinctly unsettling effect on his heart rate. He almost groaned with the sheer force of wanting her. It had been far too long. But he didn't know if he was physically and mentally capable of loving her that way, the way he wanted and needed to love her.

He slid an arm around her shoulders and they moved slowly from the room after bidding the girls good night.

The twins watched them go, then said good night to their parents and headed upstairs.

"Did you see the way he was looking at her?" Jennifer asked Amanda.

"No. I was watching the way *she* was looking at *him*," Amanda informed her.

"She's so pretty," mused Jen.

"They're so in love," sighed Amanda.

"Well, of course they are," Jennifer retorted. "They're married."

'That doesn't mean anything," Amanda said seriously. "Mom and Dad don't look at each other like that."

"That's different," Jen argued, "they're old."

Amanda sighed again, this time in exasperation. "That has nothing to do with it. I swear, sometimes you're so dense, Jen."

"Am not!"

"Are so. Look at Dr. Scully's mom. I bet *she's* in love."

"Mmm," mused Jennifer.

Suddenly Amanda's eye took on a gleam. "Wonder if she's gonna wear that green nightgown."

"Who, Margaret Scully?"

Amanda turned to her twin in surprise. That was pretty dense, even for her. Then she noticed the teasing glint in her sister's eyes and socked her lightly. "Silly."

Jen giggled, the frowned. "Nah. Big brother's just about dead on his feet. She looked pretty wiped, too."

Amanda was frowning as well.

"What?"

She shook her head. "I was just thinking about some stuff from earlier."

"Like what?"

She hesitated. "Like the wedding. Sounds like it was a riot, but I bet Fox wishes he could have had a normal wedding."

Jen giggled. "But Fox isn't normal."

Amanda glared at her, then laughed. "Neither are you, nitwit.

And neither am I. But I think he thinks Dana wanted a big wedding."

"Well, don't you think so? I know *I* would."

Amanda shook her head slowly. "I don't know. Somehow I don't think she really cares all that much as long as she's got Fox."

"She's his wife, silly -- she loves him."

Amanda started to retort that loving someone and being *in love* with someone weren't the same thing but thought better of it.

She had caught a look between Dana and Fox that her sister must not have seen or understood or she would know what she meant. I wonder if I'll ever look at a man that way? she thought. She had had crushes on boys at school and, while they had lasted, had firmly believed herself to be in love, but now she knew better.

She had seen the care and concern Fox and Dana showed each other and the way they seemed to talk without saying a word. That was love. And she had intercepted that look, the one in which Dr. Scully looked at her husband with her heart in her eyes, the one that gave Amanda an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach.

And in that moment something deep within Amanda herself had changed. She did not know it yet, but the interception of that simple, charged glance had done more to change her than all the harrowing events of the previous weeks, and already she was far outstripping her sister in her growth toward mature womanhood.

She had glimpsed something rare and wonderful, and because of it the seeds of protection against cynicism had been sown. No matter what she encountered in the world she would never fully accept the tarnished view of love and marriage and romance, because she had seen evidence that they could coexist. And she might never be able to cite that evidence, but deep down inside her where the credulous child still lived she knew that there was indeed such a thing as unconditional love. It might be idealistic, but it was real. She had seen it.

She said nothing of these things to Jen, however, nor did she think them herself -- yet. Instead she was remembering the other look she had caught, the one she *hadn't* mentioned to her sister. Despite the fact that the glance that had passed between Dana and Fox was so obviously private she had felt only a little funny about intercepting it.

But this expression had made her feel guilty, as if she had been a voyeur spying on her sister-in-law's soul, and she tentatively set about analyzing her reaction.

It was the look of sorrow and longing that had come over Dr.

Scully's face when Jennifer had mentioned a baby.

"Amanda."

'Hmm?" She realized that Jen was already in bed and that she was standing in the middle of the floor in her pajamas.

"Turn out the light?"

"Okay." She padded over to her bed and climbed in and turned out the lamp that stood between the two beds.

"'Night."

"'Night."

Soon her sister's deep, even breathing told Amanda that Jen was asleep.

But Amanda lay awake for a long time in the dark, thinking about Dana Scully.

*****

Up in their own room Ed and Teena Tillot prepared for bed in silence. Ed finished first and sat watching his wife brush her hair in front of the mirror. He had had a crush on her in high school and he still found her very beautiful despite the intervening years. He thought with some self-satisfaction that he was making her happy, trying to make up for all those years with Bill Mulder. It sickened him that Teena had ever been in love with that man, and again he wondered whether he had ever abused her as he had his son. Probably not physically -- and Teena had always sworn to her second husband that Bill had never laid a hand on her in anger -- but he was certain there was emotional abuse. His beatings of Fox were, of course, also an abuse of his wife. He shook his head, wondering what might have happened had Samantha never disappeared. Perhaps -- perhaps there had actually been some positive aspects to her disappearance, tragic as it was, he thought, for although Bill's physical abuse had grown more violent, the escalating severity of the beatings had resulted in Fox's going to live with his aunt and in Teena's eventually divorcing her husband. And because by this point everyone knew about the abuse at least they had not had to face the disbelief of their friends and neighbors when mother and son moved out of the big house on Martha's Vineyard. And maybe Fox had been able to get some of the help he needed.

This reminded Ed of his stepson's wife. Quite a lady.

Beautiful, of course, and strong. Intelligent. Caring -- that she loved Fox deeply was evident in Dana Scully's every glance and movement. He allowed himself a small smile. From what he had heard, she was also a very formidable woman. He had never met anyone who could make Teena backpedal like that while gaining her respect. Yes, she was a good match for Fox. If his stepson would just stop almost getting himself killed the boy might just stand a chance at happiness with this little redhead.

He looked over at his own wife and caught her eye and smiled at her.

The hairbrush ceased to move as Teena Tillot paused in thought.

She could not believe she had been so wrong about Dana Scully. She had always considered herself a fairly good judge of character. Teena would have been shocked to learn that her friends and family would have laughed at this self-assessment. What Mrs. Tillot was good at was sizing up potential donors to her various causes and determining the proper angle of attack to get them to give -- and give generously -- in support of the charity. She was a very good fundraiser, and she put her talents to good use. Her husband wondered whether, deep down, she were not attempting to compensate for her own failures with her son by helping other children, but he would never suggest this to Teena. He had discovered, as many others had, that Teena Tillot was happiest when allowed to sail through life on a sea made calm by wealth and position. She lived in a sort of dream world of her own fashioning to which her husband's and family's and friends' compliance contributed.

But now she had been given a wake-up call and, somewhat to her own surprise, she was responding. Not only had her only son nearly been killed trying to rescue his two half-sisters, but now it seemed that her beloved daughter, so many years gone, might still be alive.

Add to this her talks with that enigmatical but somehow fascinating young Irish woman and you had a recipe for a shake-up of immense proportions.

Despite herself she had genuinely liked Margaret Scully, had even envied her somewhat, this woman who had lived in comparative poverty with regards to material wealth -- compared to Teena Mulder, that is -- but in an immense wealth of love and happiness. Her Captain had adored her, and her children still did. She had come running to her son-in-law's bedside, and Teena had not even gone to Fox when she received the call from his partner that he had returned from Alaska, even nearer to death than he had been this time. Margaret had been there then, too, she remembered, watching over and then caring for Fox while he recuperated even though he was at that point only her daughter's partner and friend. And now he called *her* Mom. It would seem she had earned it.

This reminded her of something she had overheard in the hospital, something she had *not* told Ed -- not yet. It still hurt too much.

She had almost -- *almost* -- been a grandmother. She had never experienced the primal maternal urges with any of her four children. She sighed a little as she thought of the twins; they were almost grown up now, and somehow she felt she had managed to miss their childhood. And Fox -- she was beginning to see that Fox had never really been a child. Sam was too painful even to think about.

And so her heart ached over the child Fox and Dana had lost.

Something had changed in her over the past few weeks, and she felt bereft of the little someone she had never known.

Ironically enough, it was Dana's broken words to her comatose husband that had finally begun the thaw around the edges of Teena Tillot's frozen soul; with a sudden, instinctive flash of intuition that was really quite uncharacteristic of her she had seen in her young daughter-in-law a kindred spirit. They had both lost beloved children. Suddenly Dr. Scully had become quite human in her eyes: no longer simply the overeducated Irish temptress who had seduced her partner into trading his sister for her, she was a woman with hopes and dreams for a family of her own.

Briefly she wondered what would have happened had the child lived.

Would Fox have hidden her grandchild from her as he had hidden his marriage? She understood why Ed and her son had colluded against her in this, but it still hurt somewhat. And then she acknowledged what her reaction would have been had she known. For the first time in her pampered, sheltered life, Teena Tillot was beginning to grow up, and she was experiencing growing pains.

"Hon? You about ready for bed?" her husband asked her. She looked over at him. He was watching her quizzically and she started, realizing that she had been sitting staring at the brush in her hand.

She passed it through her hair once more and laid it on the dressing-table and crossed the room, turning out the light as she did so. She climbed into bed beside her husband. He pressed an affectionate kiss against her cheek and settled down.

She lay in the darkness, her mind whirling. So much to think about -- so many changes. "Ed?" she finally whispered.

"Hmmm?"

"I -- could we talk?"

*****

On the way to their bedroom Dana was very conscious of Fox's arm around her shoulders, his near warmth, and of the way he was watching her. She shivered a little despite herself, and he hugged her closer.

"Cold, Shorts?" he asked.

"No. I'm fine."

He grinned. He knew well and good exactly why she had shivered. It was for the same reason that he felt he was burning up.

She caught herself thinking how damnably gorgeous he was with his even white teeth flashing that easy grin in the semidarkness. He looked good. He felt good. He even *smelled* good, and she realized with a start that despite all her carefully laid intentions, it was all she could do to keep herself from attacking him right there in the hallway. She shook her head. Just cut it out, Dana. You're thinking as a woman, not as a doctor.

I'm thinking as a wife. I'm thinking as a wife who is desperately in love with her husband and who hasn't been with him in three weeks, and in nearly three months before that. He needs a doctor.

What about what *I* need?

That wouldn't be very good for him. It probably wouldn't be very good for you, either.

It's *always* good with him. Every time.

Good *with*, Dana, not good *for*.

She sighed, knowing her conscience was right -- as always.

"Why so glum, Short Stuff?" he asked as they turned into the bedroom.

She shook her head, smiling faintly. "It's nothing." She helped him to the bed and stood over him as he eased down onto the mattress. "You need some help?"

He eyed her speculatively. He really *wanted* her to undress him. Oh, yes. In a very bad way. But he was afraid that in telling her so he would start something that his body was not prepared to finish. He considered and then rephrased mentally: that his body was not *able* to finish. And so he shook his head with a sigh. "I can manage. I *think*."

She nodded, slightly disappointed. So he wasn't physically able to make love to her -- she still wanted him, wanted to touch him and hold him and kiss him, to show him that sex wasn't the only way of expressing their love physically. But then, she thought, maybe that wouldn't be fair to him. And so she nodded with a faint sigh of her own. "Okay. I'm just going to go get ready -- call me if you need anything." She squeezed his hand and disappeared into the bathroom.

I need *you*! he screamed mentally. He wanted to call her back, to ask for her help, to feel her hands on his skin as she helped him undress, to smell the faint perfume of her hair and skin, the remnants of the shower she had taken after she had helped him bathe.

He had *wanted* her to join him in the bath -- it reminded him of their wedding night, and it had taken every ounce of his restraint to keep from grabbing her with his good hand and dragging her in with him. He sat for a moment on the edge of the bed looking at his cast.

He had injured himself before and had had to deal with the inconveniences of having an arm or a leg in a cast. But never before had his injuries affected someone else so deeply. He thought again of how she had remained by his bedside during his coma despite the fact that she had thought he wanted a divorce. He wondered whether it could have been any worse than the days he had spent at the hospital watching over her after her abduction. He had begun to realize then just what she meant to him, what an integral part of his life she had become, and had been anguished over never having the chance to tell her how he felt.

But Dana had had to sit idly by watching her husband slip away from her, believing that he wanted to divorce her, hearing his mother call her horrible names and accuse her of all sorts of awful things.

And to make matters worse she had hoped she was pregnant and had found out while he was in a coma that she was not. For the first time the enormity of her pain struck him.

The sound of water running in the bathroom reminded him that her bedtime preparations would not take forever. He wanted to show her that he was not a complete invalid, and then maybe, just maybe, she would let him try to love her a little. The slippers were easy.

They dropped to the floor and he began working on his pants. Luckily they were only sweatpants, but he still had trouble with the waistband getting caught on his hips. Finally they, too, dropped to the floor, and he sighed in relief. Only his shirt left to go. He looked down at the slippers and the pile of sweat material and considered.

Gingerly he reached down with one foot, wincing a little, and hooked the pants and pulled them up to where his good hand could grab them.

He pushed the slippers so that they sat side-by-side just under the edge of the bed.

Now. To fold the pants. He had vowed to himself to try to be neater around the house when they got home, and he might as well start now. Although she usually said nothing about it he had caught the look on Dana's face at times when he left his clothes and things lying around. He hated seeing that look on her face and knowing he had put it there, just as he had hated fighting with her at Christmas. He loved her more than anything in the world and he knew that because she loved him with the same intensity that made her all the more vulnerable to his unkindness at times. He was tired of hurting her, tired of being hurt. He just wanted to get home and try to get things back to normal. He decided he would even get rid of Krycek if she really wanted him to, although he had always wanted a parrot.

He sighed. She had *not* been happy when he had given her the bird as a birthday present. He had almost convinced himself that it was because she hated parrots and that she was jealous of the fact that Krycek would come to Mulder but not to her. The bird would sit on his finger and take sunflower seeds directly from his lips. With a groan he realized something else.

Dana called the parrot "Phoebe" not only because she hated it so much but because the seed trick probably reminded her of the time she had seen the Englishwoman kissing Mulder during the L'Ively case.

They hadn't been married then, had never even dated. But he knew now that she had already loved him then and that he had loved her and that he had been trying to make her jealous.

Really smooth, Spooky, he berated himself. Go after the woman you don't want just to hurt the one you do. With a start he remembered the beautiful emerald earrings he had given Dana for last year's birthday, the ones he had bought instead of the sexy green silk nightgown because they weren't seeing each other and he had no hope that they ever would be involved.

She had *loved* the earrings. After they were married she had told him about buying the green dress she had worn to Sinead's wedding at the last minute when he wound up taking her instead of Frank what'shisname, because she had not wanted to wear the earrings for Frank but she would wear them for him. They had turned out to be a very personal and very romantic gift.

And what had he given her this year? Now that they *were* married and he could buy her all the sexy lingerie he wanted? A parrot. A stupid parrot that made his beloved wife think of that witch Phoebe every time she looked at it.

He smacked himself on the forehead. Stupid, stupid, stupid Mulder he screamed mentally. Her first birthday less than eight weeks after they had lost their baby. And he had not touched her once during those two months, telling himself that it was for the best because Dr. Chan had said they should not try to get pregnant for at least three months and he would not risk hurting her again.

Now he groaned and dropped the half-folded sweatpants to his lap.

It was all so clear now.

She had not seen the enforced abstinence as concern. She had felt rejected.

She had lost their baby and needed to know that he did not blame her, that he still found her attractive, desirable. That he still wanted to make love to her.

Instead he had pushed her away from him, telling her -- and himself -- that it was for her own good. He had quoted medical statistics back at his doctor wife to prove to her that birth control was not always 100% effective -- after all, it had failed them once already.

And in doing so he had repeatedly driven home her loss and reinforced the guilt it was now obvious she had felt.

She must have felt he was punishing her for losing the baby.

With a sudden glimpse of that dark side of his psyche that he was terrified to admit was lurking there just beneath the surface, he wondered if he had *had* been punishing her. If so, he had also been punishing himself, for he blamed what he had put her through, both physically and emotionally -- forcing her to help him pick out and carry and set up that huge Christmas tree when she was already so tired, making love to her before she was ready -- for causing the miscarriage. Not to mention the fact that it was his fault she had gotten pregnant in the first place. Oh, she had always been a willing participant -- at times, more than willing. But then he, as she had reminded him when she told him she was pregnant, could be a "wild man"

sometimes, and his ardor had evidently overriden the birth control they used so religiously.

He could also be selfish, he realized. After pushing her away for so long until that rather memorable encounter on the dining room table, he had hurt her again by leaving his wedding ring at home and then becoming offended when she refused to make love with him at the inn. He had done what he had sworn he would never do. Like his father, he had put his own physical and emotional needs ahead of his wife's.

She had been needy and frightened and grief-stricken after the miscarriage and he had rejected her.

She had been so empty and he had refused to fill her.

She had been lonely and he had given her a bird instead of himself, a stupid parrot to which he had shown more affection than he had to her. Now wonder she hated it and called it "Phoebe."

Understanding now as he did, he was surprised she even fed the thing.

He began wracking his brain, trying to come up with an idea for a romantic present for whatever holiday came next. He was *not* going to wait until Christmas.

Christmas -- they had thought to have their baby with them for Christmas. A big tree with lots of lights and ornaments -- they would have started buying one for each year of their child's life or, better yet, made them together with their children like the Scullys did. If it had been a girl he would have bought her the biggest dollhouse he could find, and for a boy an elaborate train set just like the one he had always wanted. Of course, he thought with a faint grin, Scully would insist on not stereotyping their children, so perhaps he would buy both. He would try to be the best father in the world, not like his own father, and Dana would be a wonderful mother.

He groaned. Damn!

The next holiday was Mother's Day.

He heard the water shut off and he quickly dropped the sloppily folded pants onto the chair next to the bed. He reached for the bottom hem of his shirt and pulled. He succeded in getting his right arm out of it and was attempting to pull it over his head when the bathroom door opened. He paused briefly to catch his breath, and then she was there, her small, cool hands easily slipping the shirt over his head and sliding it over his cast. He looked at her. She was not wearing the green nightgown, and for just a moment he was disappointed. Still, even in her almost prim pajamas, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Suddenly she noticed his sweatpants on the chair; it was obvious he had tried to fold them, and her eyes widened. He *never* folded his clothes at home, and now, with a broken arm and various other injuries, he was suddenly turning over a new leaf? She swung to face him, her eyes warm. Fixing his gaze with hers she gave him a dazzling smile and deliberately dropped his shirt and her clothes in a pile on the floor. He stared at her a moment, then laughed. As she joined him he reached out and slid his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. She put her arms around his neck and dropped a kiss on top of his head.

"I love to hear you laugh," he said softly. "I want *always* to be able to make you laugh -- and other things." There was no mistaking the deep longing in his eyes.

Dana sighed. "I know you do," she said. "Fox . . ." she trailed off uncertainly.

"Yeah, Shorts?" he said. She was going to tell him he was in no shape for making love, he thought. Or that she was tired -- she certainly should be, after all he had put her through lately.

She smiled at him almost shyly. "You don't -- I don't have to be Bridget Feeney every time, you know." He looked at her, puzzled.

"I -- just want to love you, Spook," she whispered.

He sighed in relief. "Dana -- I want to love you, too. I need to know that we're all right, that *this*" he gestured between them, "is all right."

She reached out and smoothed his hair away from his forehead.

"We're all right, Spook," she said solemnly. "We're *going* to be better.

I love you. You love me. We'll work things out."

He reached for her and drew her face down to his, kissing her gently at first, then with increasing hunger. Finally he pulled back and looked up into her eyes. "I want -- I need you, Dana... Please -- please make love to me."

Her eyes widened slightly. He always described himself as making love *to* her or *with* her. Suddenly she realized that he was giving her control. Perhaps it was physically necessary, but that he would say the words, acknowledge his need for her and his own inability to love her in the way he wanted to, touched her. It also affected her in several other ways, she thought with a smile as she gently pushed him back on the bed and climbed up after him. She bent over him, cradling his face in her hands, and kissed him softly. When she pulled back and smiled down at him he sighed and reached up to run his fingers along her cheek. She was prepared to hear him say something tender. Instead he said with a sincerity that was only half-mocking, "be gentle with me, Shorts." She laughed and kissed him again.

"Oh, don't you worry, Wolf. I'll be careful," punctuating her words with kisses, "and gentle . . . and very, very thorough..."

*****

They lay curled together in the darkness, her head on his chest. He stroked her hair absently. Finally she reached up and kissed the bottom of his chin. "What are you thinking?" she asked softly.

She could hear the smile in his voice although she could not see it. "Two things, actually..."

"Yes?"

"One, I was wondering why you wore those purple panties under your pajamas..."

She laughed. "Well, the pajamas were because I knew you were in no physical shape to . . . well, to do what we just did."

"Mmm-hmm. And the underwear?"

"Because I was hoping you would convince me otherwise." This time he joined in her laughter. It felt warm and good and very healing, just as their loving had.

"And number two?"

His voice was both teasing and serious. "I was thinking . . . perhaps you should be in control more often. . . Bridget."

She socked him lightly. "Bridget yourself." And kissed him again.

Another long silence. Then, "Fox, I wish..."

"Yeah, I know, Dana. Me too." He pulled her closer. "But if not, we'll just keep trying."

She nodded against his shoulder.

"Dana?"

"Hmm?"

Pause. "Wanna try some more?"

He felt her lift her head away to stare at him although it was dark. "Fox Mulder! You just got out of the hospital..."

"I know," he said. "And that's why I'm so lucky..."

"Lucky?"

"Mmm-hmm. I have my own personal physician to play doctor with me..."

"You're incorrigible!"

"Yup, that's me."

"Impossible!"

"Two for two."

"Irresistible..."

Chapter 15

"I wish you didn't have to leave," Jennifer complained as she carried the basket out to the car a few days later. "We never get to see Fox, and we're just getting to know you, after all."

"Well, that's going to change," Dana said with a smile, shutting the door. "Your mom and dad have already invited us for July 4th, and they've promised to come see us in D.C., too." She looked over at Amy, who smiled back. Somehow she and Amy had formed a special bond in the short time they had known one another. Both girls had professed an interest in joining the FBI when they were old enough, but whereas she knew that Jen's interest would eventually flag, she had no doubt that Amanda would make a fine agent if she still believed that was her destiny when she reached the moment of decision. She felt that Amy definitely had a destiny. She would talk to Fox more about it later. For now she simply gave the girl an extra squeeze and whispered, "and when you come to D.C. you and I will talk more, okay?" The young girl nodded, her eyes glowing. Her admiration of her brother's wife had moved beyond simple hero-worship. She respected Dr. Scully and was grateful for her attention. Although the girls had grown up in a two-parent home, they had lacked the female role-model they needed to grow up properly. Dana would fit the bill nicely.

Then again, it appeared the times at home, they were a-changin'. Their mother seemed more -- well, more like a mother instead of a socialite. And Dad looked happier than he had in ages.

"Thanks for everything," Amy whispered to Dana as she gave her one final hug.

The girls attacked Fox next, and Scully shook Ed Tillot's hand, then turned to her mother-in-law. "Dana," she said softly, then reached for her. They hugged briefly, then the older woman stepped back. "Have a safe trip, and, Fox..." He looked at them over the tops of his sisters' heads. "Take good care of this young lady."

He grinned and nodded. "Don't worry, Mom. I fully intend to." He caught her eye and the gleam in his suggested to her several ways in which he planned to "take good care of" her when they got home. She twinkled back at him and then held the car door open for him.

"Well, one of the *best* ways for you to 'take good care of'

me would be to keep *yourself* out of trouble, Fox Mulder," she admonished him. "I swear, you have no idea how much of my time I spend patching him up. If he keeps going at this rate I'll requalify for surgery."

They laughed. He tried to roll down the window to respond but couldn't because she had the keys. But when she started the engine he pressed the "down" button and hollered back at them, "oh, yeah?

Sometime ask her about the mosquito bites..." Their laughter was the last thing the Tillots heard as the car pulled away.

"Mosquito bites?" Jen asked Amy as they returned to the house.

"I dunno, Jen -- but knowing brother Fox and Dana, it should be an interesting story..."

*****

The trip back to DC seemed much shorter than the one to Martha's Vineyard a lifetime ago. There was not much talking, as Mulder promptly turned on his side and fell asleep almost as soon as they hit the highway, but the silence was comfortable rather than oppressive. She looked over at him fondly, at his messy dark hair that fell over his forehead, the long dark lashes that fanned his cheeks -- those lashes, at least, he had inherited from his mother, and his sisters had them as well. Not for the first time she wondered what Sam would look like now. Thankfully, they might still stand a chance of finding out, since the remains discovered in the mass grave had not been hers. And now the search could become what it should have been all along: a brother looking for his beloved sister instead of a son trying to win back his parents' love by returning to them the child they had loved best. He and his mother -- and Dana herself still had a long way to go, but the old wounds were beginning to heal.

And she would be with him every step of the way -- as his best friend, his partner, his beloved wife.

She turned on the radio, so soft she could barely hear it.

She smiled. Celine Dion was singing. She glanced over at her sleeping husband and sang along:

'Cause I'm your lady

And you are my man

Whenever you reach for me

I'll do all that I can

We're heading for something

Somewhere I've never been

Sometimes I am frightened but I'm ready to learn

The power of love...

The power of love, she thought. It was amazing. Amazing that although Mulder was still recuperating -- slowly -- from his injuries, they were both far happier than they had been since they were first married. Perhaps even happier than they had been as newlyweds. Their marriage was certainly healthier. He was still physically incapacitated and griped and moaned about her having to take care of him, but her mother was right: deep down, he loved all the extra attention. Now, instead of insisting on playing lone wolf, he was responding to her coddling more in the manner of the average adult male: he was reverting back to little-boy-hood: in his case, the childhood he had never really had. He was learning to let go, to allow her to be the strong one for once. As for Scully, she was learning to let him worry about *her* occasionally.

Even their lovemaking, wonderful as it had always been, had changed for the better. It was deeper, somehow -- richer, perhaps because they were becoming equal partners in this as in everything else. He had always been in control because she, as she frequently reminded him, was the inexperienced of the two. But ever since that night when he had asked her to make love to him, that had been changing. And the physical aspect was no longer the main focus. Not that she didn't enjoy that part of it, she thought with a grin -- far from it. Her "Wolf" had the ability to turn her into a pile of melted Jello with just a look or a touch. But sex was just a physical expression of the deeper coupling of minds and hearts and souls.

At first he had been apologetic when his injuries had prevented him from loving her with his accustomed . . . enthusiasm.

He had been frustrated at not being able to tear that last pair of purple panties off her, for one thing. And sometimes he had had to content himself with just holding her, when he wanted far, far more.

She had reassured him. "Spook, give yourself time. Your body's been through an awful lot -- both of us have, over the past few months. It's okay. So long as you're here -- just to hold me and love me -- I'm happy. Not," she hastened to add, "that I don't miss my 'wild man.' But he'll be back. I'm just so grateful to have you alive and here and loving me, Fox," she concluded softly, her eyes very tender.

He looked at her for a long minute and then pulled her into his arms with a contented sigh. "Maybe this is better, Shorts really. We're learning a lot from this, you and I. Maybe we needed to know that we could still love each other without sex. I just wish we could have figured all this out earlier -- it sure would have made those three months a lot easier on both of us." She smiled a little.

Those long weeks had been miserable, coming so early in their marriage as they had, before they had really known each other, in the way they were only now beginning to know each other.

Now, looking over at him, she smiled again. It would probably take her the rest of her life to figure him out, she thought -- if she ever could. But that was okay. It was a truth she was willing -- and eager -- to pursue.

Fox Mulder stirred slightly in his sleep and gave a little sigh, then slipped back into pleasant dreams with a smile. His wife eased on the cruise control and took the exit to the District.

Heading home.

*****

When she pulled up in front of their apartment building and looked over, he still had his eyes closed, a faint smile on his face.

But there was something about that smile...

With a smile of her own she leaned over towards him. "Fox," she said softly. "Fox, we're home." He did not stir. "Oh, Wolf," she murmured in the low, throaty voice that always gave him chills, "we're home. I suppose I *could* leave you out here, but I *really* don't want to sleep alone tonight..."

That did it. His eyes popped open and he stared at her, then rolled his eyes when he took in her knowing smirk. "You tricked me," he accused.

"Mmm, but not entirely," she assured him.

His eyes widened. "Oh, really?"

"Mmm-hmm. I *could* have left you out here," she finished with a twinkle in her eye. He looked at her for a moment, then laughed.

"Okay, okay. Just give me a hand, all right?"

Slowly she helped him out of the car and up the sidewalk. His mobility was much better, but he was going to be confined to the office for a few days at least. She had given up on trying to make him stay at home. And, she had to admit to herself, she did not relish the thought of spending the entire day apart from him.

When they reached the door to their apartment she unlocked it and stood back to let him enter first.

"What?" he complained. "You're not going to carry me over the threshold?" At her sarcastic expression he softened his voice.

"That's one thing I regret, you know," he said.

"What?"

"Not carrying you over the threshold."

She smiled. "Something else to look forward to when you get well, Spook," she said.

He limped to the couch and sat down with a sigh. "Dana, I'm really sorry I can't help you bring stuff in..."

"That's okay, Fox. I'll be right back." But instead of going back out to the car she headed down the hall to Mrs. Anderson's to collect Krycek. The older woman gave him back somewhat reluctantly.

"He really is a beautiful bird," she told Dana. "So talkative. But *what* have you been letting him watch on television?

We had a storm and every time it thundered he would yell, 'Help!

Murder!' Scared me half to death the first time I heard it."

Dana laughed. "Just my husband's oddball sense of humor," she assured Mrs. Anderson as she left. "Now listen, you," she said to Krycek as she walked down the hall, "I didn't want you and I've made no secret of the fact that I don't like you. You try to bite the hand that feeds you and I find that very annoying. But -- and this is a very big 'BUT,' " she continued, "Fox likes you. For the life of me I can't see why, but he does. And I love him. Ergo, you can stay. But NO MORE BITING!"

"Help! Murder!" Krycek responded. She sighed and opened the door to their apartment and he immediately, of course, shut up. She shook her head and crossed to the couch, setting the cage on the end table next to Mulder.

"Uh, Shorts? About Krycek -- I've been thinking . . ." he began.

"Krycek and I just had a little talk, Spook -- I *hope* we understand each other. I promised not to hate him so much and he promised not to bite me anymore. If he does," she grinned, adding a little clause to their "contract," "if he does, I reserve the right to cook and serve him up in my choice of dinner dishes. And *you* have to eat it. You got that?" she said sternly to the cage.

But it was Mulder who answered. "Yes, ma'am."

She nodded and headed for the as-yet unpacked car.

Mulder sat on the sofa and watched her out the window, appreciating the gracefulness of her movements and the way her hair gleamed red-gold in the sun. "Okay, Krycek, time for a new lesson," he began, picking up the box of treats on the coffee table. When the front door opened again he held out a treat and said cheerfully, "'Hey, pretty lady!'"

She shook her head with a smile and headed for the bedroom with their suitcases.

"Be sure to hang all that stuff up, Shorts!" he called.

"Actually, Spook, I thought I'd just dump everything on the bed," she called back.

"No way," he said with a grin as she rejoined him, "I have plans for that bed for later."

"Well, right now I think you'd better plan on taking a nap on it," she said, bending to help him up.

"Only if you'll join me."

"I will," she promised, "*after* I finish unpacking. He sank to the bed with a sigh and held up his feet for her to pull off his shoes. She did so with a smirk. Perhaps some women would consider this demeaning, she thought, but it was such a change of pace for them that she did not mind in the least. As long as he didn't get too used to it. She pulled the afghan up over him and bent to kiss him. "Now *sleep*," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, but as she moved around the bedroom she could feel his eyes on her. Every time she turned around he managed to close them, but she knew he was watching her from under those heavy lashes.

So she decided to tease him.

She stripped slowly, seductively, tossing each item of clothing over her shoulder as she pulled it off. Finally she was down to the purple underwear and bra he had bought her at Victoria's Secret on their honeymoon. The last pair of that *awful* purple underwear.

She stopped and looked at him, posed with her hands on her hips. He didn't move a muscle.

She peered closer. Was he faking?

She bent over him. His eyelashes did not even twitch.

With a sigh that was part relief at his finally getting to sleep -- a very small part -- and part disappointment -- a very large part -- she changed into a nightshirt and climbed in next to him.

Immediately, to her surprise, his arm went around her.

"Sneaky Fox." She felt his smile against her shoulder as he snuggled up to her.

"Thought you'd tempt me with that last pair, eh, Shorts?"

She grinned. "Actually, I was thinking maybe we should save it..."

He grunted softly. "Thought you hated them," he said sleepily.

She nodded. "I do -- or did. But maybe we should save them as -- I don't know -- a souvenir of what we've been through."

He struggled with this for a moment. He was feeling very drowsy, but somehow he had the idea that this wouldn't have made too much more sense to him even had he been fully awake. "Symbolic underwear?"

She laughed quietly. "Well, you know. I feel like -- well, Fox, when we first got married you had to teach me everything. Even this purple underwear -- I let you buy it for me even though I knew it would look awful because I thought you knew what you wanted better than I did."

"Well, after I saw how awful it looked on you -- why do you think I ripped so many pairs off of you?"

"Yeah, right," she deadpanned, and was rewarded with his snort of wicked laughter. "But anyway. I think you're right about our learning through all of this. And we've moved past all that."

"What, my ripping underwear off of you?"

"I sincerely *hope* not," she grinned.

"But not every time."

"No," she agreed, "not every time."

"Okay," he said, "but as soon as I get better I'm taking you back to Victoria's Secret and buying you a whole new underwear collection. No," he said, placing his hand over her lips when she opened her mouth to interrupt him, "no more purple. This is the last pair. I promise."

He felt her smile against his fingers. "Actually, I was just wondering if they carried purple underwear for men..."

*End Chapter Fifteen by Juliettt*

The End

Note: "In-laws" is part of Macspooky's "Generations" series and does not fit in with Juliettt's story series (Stakeouts/"Vengeance"/"Epithalamion"/Marriage).