Title: Guardian II: Renewal
 Author: Amy Vincent

Disclaimer: I ought to point out that NONE of the characters in 
this story (except Rebecca) are my creation, but that of Chris Carter, 
who incidentally owns all rights to them along with Ten-Thirteen 
Productions and the Fox network. I am appropriating them without 
anyone's permission, although no infringement is intended. There's 
one scene that's about PG-13, but that's all. Any and all comments 
are very welcome; please send praise or flames to XFScully@aol.com.

Summary: Samantha returns. Mulder comes home to his wife, a child 
he didn't know he had and his long lost sister.

Author's Note: Here is the sequel to my earlier story "Guardian;" I'd 
like to say the story stands on its own -- but it doesn't. 
Originally, this was a short-short, no more than a vignette, 
but I decided to work in some of the edited flashbacks from 
"Guardian" and expand the story -- with the result that this 
is as long as "Guardian" itself. I'm afraid what little 
government conspiracy and alien activity stuff was in the first 
story is almost absent here -- it's pretty much total 
relationship. But it's no mushfest -- 

<Cue melodramatic music> When we last saw our dynamic duo, 
Mulder had just been returned by the aliens after two years. 
Meanwhile, here on earth, Scully has been giving birth to his 
daughter, taking care of his sister, and essentially has been 
left to her own devices in all of this. This begins about 
four days after their reunion at the end of "Guardian."


***************
RENEWAL
by Amy Vincent
***************

Jonquil, South Carolina
November 26, 1999


The light glinted off the blade -- the sharp edge was within 
inches of his face --

Mulder flinched reflexively, then forced himself to take a deep
breath. It's your own damn straight razor -- you're gonna have to 
work through this if you want to get this beard off, he told himself 
sternly.

It didn't help.

He'd only been returned a few days, after all -- only come home 
to Jonquil this morning. As profoundly happy as Fox was to be home, 
the changes were almost overwhelming. And he could scarcely adjust 
to them for the terrifying memories that still haunted virtually every 
moment. 

(There had been sharp edges, so many sharp edges, coming toward 
him -- irresistible, inescapable -- hour after hour after hour of 
torment, unnatural consciousness forced on him, denying him the 
comfort of sleep --)

Mulder put the razor down for a moment and took a deep breath. 
The steam from his shower filled his lungs; the familiar smells of 
soap and shampoo were strangely comforting. You're *home,* he 
reminded himself, tucking his towel around his waist. Look at 
your reflection instead of the razor edge, and you'll be okay. 

As quickly as he could, Fox wiped a small corner of the mirror 
clear of the steam and got to work. It wasn't the smoothest job 
ever; he nicked himself a few times, wincing at each cut far more 
than he would once have, but kept going as fast as possible.

Finally, in a couple of minutes, he was done -- scratched up 
but smooth faced again. As he finished the last stroke, Mulder found 
himself pitching the razor across the room, to get it as far from 
him as possible. It flew into the shower, knocking shampoo bottles 
off the shelf. He slumped against the wall in disgust at his own 
instability.

The door flew open; Scully skidded into the bathroom, obviously
having run from down the hall. When she saw Mulder standing there, 
apparently well, she sighed. "I thought you'd fallen in the tub. 
Are you all right?"

"Just a little shaky," he admitted, trying to smile. "Let's see -- 
in the last four days, we've learned to avoid bright lights and loud
noise. I think we can add sharp edges to the phobia list."

"It'll get better, Mulder," she murmured, taking his hand. "Sam 
was the same way when she got back; after a few months, she got over 
it. You will too."

He nodded, trying to take courage from her words -- and was 
suddenly very aware of her proximity in the small, steamy room, 
of the feeling of her hand in his own.

With her other hand, Dana reached up to touch the newly smooth 
skin. "Now this is more like it. I spent the last few days half 
convinced I'd brought home a stranger."

"Stranger than most." Mulder delighted in her soft laugh, the
electric touch of her fingertips on his face. A slow, delicious 
warmth was spreading through him -- an instinct he'd begun to fear 
had been eliminated from him somehow was back. Definitely.

He put his free arm around her waist, bringing her close. Dana's
blue eyes widened in surprise; she and Mulder hadn't been alone, 
really alone, for any length of time since his return. Nurses, Sam, 
Becca, a few college friends -- well, at any rate, there hadn't been 
opportunity for more than the occasional kiss.

She'd been glad of that. Only out of concern for Fox, she told 
herself; he was still weak, fragile, incredibly moody. No need to 
rush things. 

But here he was, the heat of his skin soaking through her 
t-shirt even as the thin sheen of water on his body had. His arms 
once again embracing her. That familiar, beloved face dipping close 
to her own.

Their lips met gently at first, then Mulder pulled Scully
passionately against him. His mouth closed over hers tenderly, 
hungrily, as if he could never have enough. She felt a dizzying 
wave of desire rush through her as she tilted her head back, 
returning the kisses for those few precious moments before her 
longing suddenly vanished, replaced by another emotion.

Fear.

Suddenly, his closeness, his touch seemed utterly wrong -- as
bewildering and threatening as the advances of a stranger in an 
alleyway. Dana froze suddenly, turning her head away from Fox's kiss.

"Scully?" he rasped in confusion.

She opened her mouth to say something, but couldn't find words. 
To her horror, she realized she had started to cry.

"Scully? What's wrong?" Mulder was gentle now, still holding her,
but bewildered at the tears running down Dana's face.

"Everything." She tore free from his hands, pushing blindly out 
of the bathroom and flopping down on the side of the bed. The air in 
their bedroom seemed dry and chilly after the post-shower warmth, but 
she welcomed that. It was bracing. Scully forced herself to breathe 
in deeply and regularly, to bite back the urge to weep.

Behind her, in the doorway, Fox felt himself trembling, and not 
from the cold air. The fear sweeping through him now was something 
far more profound than any of his phobias; yet somehow, he found 
the presence of mind to tug his bathrobe on and come sit near -- 
not too near -- Dana on the edge of the bed.

After a couple seconds of silence, he murmured, "I hope that,
whatever else is happening, you can still talk to me about what you're
feeling. That's the one thing I couldn't bear to lose, Scully."

She shook her head. "I'm just trying to figure out what to say. 
It's just -- you've been gone a long time, Mulder."

He nodded, took a deep breath. "Yeah, I've thought about that." 
Keeping his voice calm and understanding, utterly gentle, he asked, 
"Is there somebody else?"

"No! Oh, no, that's not it -- " She touched his arm for 
reassurance, and Mulder felt at least one of the iron bands squeezing 
around his chest loosen. But it didn't make his next question any 
easier to ask.

"Do you still love me?"

She looked past him, not meeting his eyes, for only a brief 
moment -- the longest moment of Fox Mulder's life. Her face seemed 
horribly distant, almost blank. Yet when she finally returned his gaze, 
the tenderness there reassured him even before her words.

"Yes, Mulder. I still love you. I don't think anything could 
ever change that. Because if there was any force capable of tearing 
that apart -- it would have succeeded within the last two years. 
They've been hard."

"I know that. How you managed to help Sammie and raise -- 
Rebecca --" his voice still choked on the name of his daughter; 
it was unfathomably strange to him instantly to be the father 
of a child who was already walking. "Well, it took a lot of 
courage. A lot of strength."

She nodded. "That wasn't the worst of it, Mulder. It was tough,
but --" 

Dana stood up suddenly, walked to the window that overlooked their
secluded street. "You left me. For the noblest reasons, I know. 
Against your own wishes, I know. But without one word of explanation, 
or of warning -- to say the least of perhaps giving me the option 
to argue with you. To listen to my ideas about what was easily 
the most shattering event in either of our lives."

Mulder sighed. "I knew you would be angry that I kept it from 
you."

"Angry doesn't begin to describe it."

"Scully -- I knew you might try to talk me out of it. I was 
damned close to backing out of the deal myself. I thought -- 
I was afraid that if I told you, you'd convince me not to do it. 
And I couldn't have lived out my life knowing I had a chance 
to save Samantha and gave it up."

She glanced at him briefly. "But you could live out your life
knowing you gave me up."

Hard question, but -- "Yes. Not happily. Horribly. But my pain
seemed secondary to Sam's."

"I can agree with that. It just disturbs me that *my* pain 
doesn't seem to have been part of this equation."

"Scully -- Dana, NO. I knew it would hurt you, I hated that so 
much, but -- it wasn't easy to know it was coming. The waiting -- 
that hurt too."

"I guess we'll never know which is worse." Scully turned finally,
folding her arms across her chest as she looked at him again. He was 
hugging himself in the blue-and-white robe, his longish hair 
flopping damp against his worried face. Mulder looked as boyishly 
endearing as he ever had.

And as far away.

"I'm going to fix lunch. Fajitas okay?"

He blinked at that. "Uh, yeah. You mean -- that's it?"

"Mulder, I love you. You love me. But there's a lot of 
distance between us and -- it's going to take a lot of time. 
And I really can't bear to get any deeper into this right now." 
She walked evenly out of the room, leaving Mulder to stare 
at the doorway for a few long minutes before rising and 
getting dressed in the few clothes he still had in the back 
of her closet.


Dana tried to clear her mind as she went downstairs. That didn't 
go *that* badly, she consoled herself. We both spoke our minds. We 
can still communicate. We can work from there.

So why was her chest hurting?

She pushed those considerations away and went into the kitchen. 
As she opened the fridge to start searching for the chicken, Scully 
heard the doorbell chime. "Sam? Can you get that?"

"Sure thing!" a cheerful voice called from the living room. 
Samantha bounded out, with energy more like a teenager's than a 
36-year-old woman. It fit her face -- perhaps the only blessing 
of her long absence was an apparent slowdown in the external signs 
of aging. Her real age, her energy, and her slightly youthful face, 
combined with moments of utter innocence and then of otherworldly 
wisdom, gave her an aura of mystery. And the ability to win every
time at those carnival "Guess Your Age" booths.

Sam tugged her waist-long dark hair into a ponytail as she went 
to the door. "Just a second," she called, as she leaned forward to 
glance through the peephole. Then she jumped straight up in delight.

"Dana! It's the Gunmen!" She pulled the door wide as she flung 
open her arms to grab three of her favorite people in the world. 
Byers was the first to hug her.

"Happy Late Thanksgiving, Samantha. I should be hurt that you 
didn't invite us down, but there were more important celebrations 
going on, right?"

"You better believe it. Fox! Get down here!"

Frohicke, for his part, had squirmed past Sam to find Dana. 
"Hi there, Scully. How are things?"

Scully had walked into the hallway, grinning one of her rare,
full-lipped smiles even as she still held the chicken in one hand. 
"Overwhelming, my friend. But it's good to see you." She hugged 
him close as Mulder appeared at the top of the stairs.

His first thought was, I didn't make it home after all. This is 
some parallel universe or something. But Fox pushed that aside 
with a small laugh as he said, "Damn, it took you guys long enough. 
The aliens have been gone for five days. If you're going to make 
a living chasing flying saucers -- "

"I'll have you know we were following up on a VERY promising 
lead in California. My sources suggest that Newt Gingrich isn't 
dead after all." Langley was obviously still excited about the idea, 
even amid the thrill of his lost friend's return. 

Mulder laughed. "Running things from behind the scenes?"

"It goes deeper than that," Byers explained seriously.

"I missed you guys," Fox chuckled as he pulled each of them, 
in turn, into that abashed one-armed male embrace.

Sam shared a skeptical glance with Dana -- why can't men just 
hug and deal with it? -- and then ducked quietly into the living room 
for a moment. Scully held up the package in her hand. "You guys 
want fajitas? You've had a big trip and there's plenty of stuff -- "

"Thanks, Scully, don't mind if we do. We're hoping to have a 
LONG talk with Mulder about his experiences."

Dana's face darkened somewhat, but Mulder was capable of speaking 
for himself. 

"Guys, I know how much you want to hear about this, but I 
don't know how much I can tell you."

Langley blinked. "You lived on an alien craft for almost 
two years, Mulder. Do you remember any of it?"

"I remember it all," he said quietly. "It's not a matter of 
whether I know anything you'd want to hear. It's whether I can 
bring myself to tell it. It -- it's just gonna take some time." 

The frustration on their faces was nothing new to Mulder; he'd 
worn that expression a thousand times while questioning abductees. 
But all the awkwardness and pain in those victim's faces hadn't 
prepared him for the viselike grip of silence that held him. 
Was it some sort of hypnotic conditioning? No way to be sure. 
But while horrible memories still floated through his mind, constant 
shadows flickering at the periphery of reality, he could no more 
have given words to them than he could suddenly learn to fly.

Still, they accepted it rather easily. Byers nodded and patted
Mulder's shoulder, saying "We should've expected that -- Sam hasn't 
been able to tell us much either, even after this long. Whatever 
you've got, whenever you're ready."

"Hey, speaking of Sam, where'd she get to?" Langley asked.

"We're back here. Look, honey, look who's come to see you!" 
Samantha's girlish voice laughed joyously as she shuffled forward, 
holding Becca's hand as she toddled into the room. The little girl 
looked up at the visitors and beamed.

"Uncle Fricky!" Rebecca cried, scampering over to Frohicke. 
He chuckled and swept her up into his arms.

"How's the princess? Brought you something -- " Mulder watched 
in utter astonishment as Frohicke pulled a small stuffed rabbit 
from his coat pocket. He'd never exactly seen his friend as 
a big fan of kids, but he and his daughter were obviously enamored 
of each other.

Scully clucked her tongue. "Honestly, you're spoiling her."

"That's my prerogative. I never had a goddaughter before, and 
I intend to fulfill my obligations to the fullest."

"Wait a second -- you're Rebecca's *godfather*?" Mulder was
beginning to flash back to old Twilight Zone episodes.

"I thought you'd like that," Dana said. "And anyway, it made
a certain degree of sense." She was grinning now, as was 
"Uncle Fricky;" Fox raised an eyebrow, hoping she'd continue. 
Scully handed the chicken to Sam and folded her hands in the way 
he knew meant a story was coming. "After all, Frohicke was 
the first to know."

***

October 16, 1997


"There's gotta be more to the Bloodline project -- some avenue 
you haven't seen, that Mulder didn't explain -- "

"Damnit, I wasn't ALWAYS completely in the dark," Dana snapped,
hugging herself into a ball in the rocker by the window. Byers, 
Langley and Frohicke were all on the sofa, like some bizarre 
computer-geek version of the "see no evil" tableau. They'd flown 
into town yesterday, frantic about Mulder, wanting to see Samantha, 
trying to pick Scully's brain for information.

Scully knew, as she always had known, that they meant well. 
They weren't all bad, just annoying, she reminded herself. Right 
now they were only trying to get some clue about what had happened 
to their friend.

They couldn't accept that he'd done this to himself.

And to her. And to -- 

She pushed that out of her thoughts, forced herself to keep 
speaking. "Bloodline is no more than it appears to be. A map 
of the aliens' movements overlaid with the movements of abductees 
and their family members. Mulder played one of his hunches and 
made contact. Made a deal."

"I just can't believe that," Langley muttered.

"It's one of the only things Samantha can tell me, so far," 
Scully sighed, nodding her head towards the room upstairs where 
Mulder's sister was sleeping fitfully. And she'd thought Fox's 
nightmares were bad -- Sam, so far, had been unable to sleep 
more than two hours at a stretch, and instead of shrugging off
her nightmares after a few minutes, would often sit shaking for 
longer than she'd slept. Scully had ended up sleeping curled 
next to Samantha's back -- the closeness helped comfort them 
both a little. But it would take Sam a very long time to lead 
a normal life. If she ever would.

Again, Dana pushed her darker ideas away, and rose from the 
chairs. "Guys, I don't want to be rude, but I'm exhausted from 
taking care of Samantha and -- everything. We just have to go 
into this later; I'm not up to it yet. Not now."

"Mulder's not going to get home if we just sit here," Byers 
said.

THAT did it. "He's not going to get home if we DON'T just sit 
here. He's not going to get home if we crawl on our hands and knees 
to Tibet and pray with the Dalai Lama. He's NOT GOING TO GET HOME. 
Not through anything that's in our power. Right now, the only 
thing I *can* do is throw you out of my house until I've had some 
sleep. Maybe later you can come back and lecture me about how 
important Mulder is, okay?" She stalked to the door; after a 
moment, the abashed Lone Gunmen got up and walked out without 
a word.

They hurried out to the van (equipped with the latest 
surveillance devices, a top-of-the-line computer, and an 
eight-track that Frohicke refused to dump) in silence. Finally, 
as Langley slid open the door, he muttered, "I guess we're pushing 
her."

"We *need* to push," Byers insisted. "The trail's still warm. 
I'm not convinced that the government didn't have anything to do 
with this, and if we're going to get the facts we need to get them 
now."

"True," Langley said. "We'll try her tomorrow. She's just 
tired."

"We ought to apologize, anyway," Frohicke said. "Scully's 
gonna be mad enough that we don't agree with her interpretation of 
events. I'm just gonna run in and make nice."

"Give it UP, man," Langley sighed. "We went out boozing with 
you the night after Mulder told you they were together. You said 
you'd get over it --"

"I HAVE. Jeez, even I'm not desperate enough to go in and hit 
on a grieving woman." Interesting in theory, but -- "I just -- 
I think one of us should apologize, and so I'm gonna go back." 
Frohicke walked back to the door, knocked softly.

No answer.

He knocked again, and when Dana still failed to appear at the 
door, he opened it and walked in. Scully was sitting in a crumpled 
heap on the floor near the sofa, crying brokenly.

"Scully? Oh, man, Scully, we're sorry -- I just came to say we
shouldn't have been bugging you right now. Are you okay?" 
Whatever fragment of a caring, chivalrous man that dwelled deep 
within Frohicke's squirrelly self was taking over; Dana Scully 
had always had that effect on him, along with all the various 
raunchy effects that she also inspired.

Dana looked up at him, surprised, but unable to stop sobbing. 
"No, no, I'm not okay."

Awkwardly, Frohicke sat on the floor beside her. "I know we 
stayed too long and got on your nerves. And you're tired -- 
after all, you're responsible for another person now and 
that's tough."

Scully jerked herself into another tight little ball, now 
looking at him with wide eyes. "How did you know?"

This was strange. "You -- you told us you were taking care 
of Samantha until Mrs. Mulder got back from that cruise and 
could get down here. And we saw her upstairs. Kinda helped 
me figure it out."

After a moment of silence, Dana began to laugh -- a shaky 
sound that was somehow even sadder than her weeping. "More 
than that. I'm pregnant."

"What?" Frohicke had felt out of place before; he was now 
WELL beyond his depth. He gestured vaguely in the air. "With 
a baby?"

That didn't even win a sarcastic comeback. Scully was 
still trembling, choking out her breath in something that was 
no longer simply laughter or tears. "Mulder and I are going to 
have a baby. And he's not going to be here. He never even knew. 
I only found out this morning -- I ran the test just before 
you got here. I don't know what I'm going to do."

Her voice was getting shrill, hysterical, edged in a way 
Frohicke had never heard before. "I'm so goddamned mad at him 
I don't want ANYTHING of his near me. And yet I know this is 
all I'll ever have of him now -- the only part of him that's 
left -- I don't know what to do. I don't know what -- " 
She broke apart, breaking into tears too intense to speak 
through.

Frohicke simply sat there for another minute, completely 
bewildered. Scully had always come across as the tower of 
strength, giving as good as she got, handling everything in 
stride. And nothing in his rather limited experience with women 
had prepared him for the sight of such a strong person tearing 
into shreds before his eyes. Still, in the movies, there was 
one thing that always seemed to work -- 

When Byers and Langley, fed up with listening to "Inna Gadda 
Da Vida" in the van, finally came back into the house fifteen minutes 
later, Scully was still weeping in Frohicke's awkward embrace -- 
and clinging to him as if she would never let go.

***


Mulder was as amazed by the story as Frohicke had been that day; 
yet it wasn't hard to picture. Nor were the other escapades 
the Lone Gunmen and Scully laughed over the the fajitas and well 
into the afternoon. Mulder had to hold his sides at the story 
of the baby shower Frohicke and Melissa had tried to cohost, and 
genuinely enjoyed the visit. Yet, the whole time the others were 
talking animatedly, trying to catch Fox up on one event or another,
he felt himself growing more and more distant from the conversation. 
He was a spectator in this, not a participant. In this party, and 
to some extent, in their lives now.

Neither Scully nor the Lone Gunmen seemed to notice his increasing
quiet, for which Mulder was relieved -- no point in spoiling the party. 
Yet Samantha was watching him carefully, understandingly, the whole 
time she helped Rebecca with her little slices of chicken. At last, 
when the Gunmen had departed for an exciting Indian mound nearby, 
she grabbed her brother's hand. "I need some fresh air. C'mon, Fox, 
let's hit the beach."

"Sam?" Scully was puzzled; Samantha usually didn't enjoy the
waterfront on chilly, breezy afternoons like this. 

"Hey, I ended up making the fajitas. Least you can do is 
wash up."

"That's not what I -- never mind. Be sure to take your coats; 
it's freezing." She waved them through the back door, thinking 
about them no more, as she turned to continue her work.

***


 Fox and Samantha walked along the shore in silence for a long 
time. Mulder still felt somewhat awkward around his sister; throughout 
his lifetime, he'd prepared himself for her return in a thousand ways. 
Been ready to help her through her troubles, to tell her about 
the man he had become.

He had never envisioned a future in which *he* was the helpless 
one. The one who twisted, screaming, from sleep five times in a night, 
who couldn't stand next to bright artificial light without trembling. 
Sam had sat by him in the hospital as many hours as Scully had, 
calming him and caring for him the way he'd always hoped to care 
for her.

He had also never considered that she would already *know* him. 
Through the years, Fox had mentally composed stories to explain what 
Oxford had been like, how he joined the Bureau -- everything down 
to how people did the Hustle at his senior prom. But Sam had been 
living with Dana for two years, and had asked her everything about 
her older brother. Scully knew most of his stories -- maybe not 
the Hustle, but the important ones certainly -- and had filled in 
the blanks. 

Still, Mulder felt less distant from her than from anyone else 
right now. They shared a connection more powerful even than the love 
he'd carried for her all these years -- their abductions. The 
experiences that haunted him, tormented him, remained inexpressible; 
yet Samantha didn't need explanations. She KNEW. While the two 
of them hadn't discussed their time away from earth, he knew that 
this shared knowledge bound them together, and felt more reassured
by her silences than anyone else's words.

After a long time, she finally spoke. "You were unhappy in 
there."

With almost anybody else, he would've denied it. But Samantha's
words were a statement, not a question. "I've been gone so long, 
Sam."

"Tell *me* about it." Fox smiled at her words, but knew the 
joke wasn't meant to dismiss his experience.

He continued, "I barely know them now. Scully and Frohicke
best friends? Sam, she used to shudder when he walked in the room. 
Literally. And while they're as bent as ever, even the Lone Gunmen 
have mellowed. But that's nothing compared to Rebecca.

"Jesus, Sammie, I'm a father!" He stopped walking, kicked at 
a scrap of driftwood near his feet. "I always wanted kids, but -- 
I thought I'd have a little warning, you know? And be there when 
my child was born, bathe her and feed her and be there for her."

"You can still do that," Samantha had stopped a few steps ahead 
of him, and was looking calmly out to sea.

"I know. Thank God. But -- it's hard to know where to start. 
I haven't been around children much. I don't know what she needs. 
I don't know if I'm strong enough yet to be a father to her. 
And Rebecca's not some day-old infant -- she's a little person 
in her own right. A person who doesn't know *what* the hell to 
make of me."

Sam closed her eyes, knowing that was true. Easily the most 
painful moment of Fox's return so far was the first moment he'd 
seen Rebecca; instead of some honey-lit Hallmark card scene, 
it had basically consisted of Mulder staring at his daughter as 
if *she* were the one who'd just been dropped off by a flying saucer 
and Becca returning the stare suspciously, then hiding in her 
mother's shoulder.

Hiding from the stranger.

"She's already gotten a lot better, Fox. Rebecca likes you now; 
the two of you will come to love one another. Give it time."

Mulder sighed deeply. "I thought the moment you first saw 
your child, you were supposed to melt with adoration and instantly 
feel just like a parent. It wasn't like that for me."

"It wasn't like that for Dana, either."

"Really?" Fox's voice was soft. He hadn't had the guts to ask
Scully much about her pregnancy and delivery yet; the guilt of not 
being there was still too strong.

Samantha smiled. "No, not at all. You heard, in there, how
ambivalent she was about having a child alone when she first 
found out. She hadn't totally resolved those feelings when Rebecca
was born."

(end of Part 1)

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

From: mimidana@aol.com (MimiDana)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: Repost: Renewal (2/4)
Date: 4 Jul 1995 07:05:30 -0400


Remember to send all comments on the story to XFScully@aol.com. 









 --Mimi

***************
RENEWAL (Pt 2)
by Amy Vincent
***************

***

May 20, 1998


"Push!" Melissa commanded.

"Jesus Christ, I AM pushing!" Dana yelled back. Her sister was 
the only midwife she would've trusted for a home delivery instead 
of a hospital; still, the combination of New Age crap (candles, 
incense, chimes) and the backbreaking pain of labor were wearing 
on Scully's nerves.

"Take it easy, honey. You're getting close now," Maggie's 
soothing voice said, as she rubbed her daughter's shoulders. Dana 
nodded and sighed deeply as the contraction ended. 

Sam, meanwhile, sat nearby; the four women had gathered together 
for this night -- it seemed appropriate, comforting. Before the 
night was over, three generations of Scullys would be here, caring 
for one another, bound together. It felt right.

Not at all what she was used to. 

"Here comes another one," Dana groaned, clutching her mother's 
hand for strength. Maggie winced at the viselike grip, but was 
too excited to feel too much pain.

"Come on, Dana. Only a few more," Margaret whispered.

Sam started a little as the head appeared, then emerged. Despite 
all the blood and Dana's cry of pain, she was beyond any emotion 
besides wonder. 

Melissa, meanwhile, grinned triumphantly.

"We've got the head, Dana. One more big push now and we'll have 
it, okay? Ready?"

Dana nodded weakly as her mother wiped some sweat from her brow. 
Samantha leaned in a little closer.

"Push!" Melissa cried again, as Dana shivered from the final
contraction. Scully threw herself into it, yelling not from pain 
but from strain, as she clenched every muscle, put every bit of 
strength she had into that final push.

And the child came free -- baby and afterbirth in one great rush 
of fluid upon the floor next to the futon. Melissa caught the baby 
up in her arms, patting the infant's bottom as she did so.

As the room was filled with the baby's first wailing, Melissa 
smiled through her tears and said, "You have a daughter, Dana. 
A little girl."

Maggie began crying too, as she reached out a hand to touch 
the tiny form of her grandchild. Dana looked up at her baby in 
something like awe, but made no move to hold her.

"Just a minute -- let me clean this up -- " Melissa set herself 
to work cutting the cord. When she'd done, she handed the infant 
to Samantha to bathe. As Melissa busily dealt with the afterbirth, 
Jand Maggie took care of her daughter, Sam dipped her niece in 
the basin of warm water she'd kept ready. 

Something about the warm liquid comforted the child, stilling 
her sobs. Sam held her surely, steadily, bathing the tiny limbs 
with practiced care. She could already see a few red curls, and 
the round little face -- not much of Fox in this one, she thought. 
Still, just the knowledge that she was holding her beloved brother's 
child in her arms made her shiver. It's not the same as having 
you here, Fox, but it's wonderful.

When she'd finished, she wrapped the small infant in the 
receiving blanket, and passed her to Melissa, who was grinning 
madly. "Here you go, Dana. Ready to hold your baby girl?"

"No -- " Dana whispered.

"What? Honey, don't worry, you're not going to drop her; it's 
all right," Margaret cooed, gazing down at the baby.

"No, no. I need a minute," Dana said. "Can I just be -- 
alone with her for a second?"

"Of course," Maggie nodded. That made sense. She motioned 
to Melissa to nestle the baby next to Dana on the little makeshift 
futon, and come with her into the hallway. She did so, turning 
backward to look at Samantha, who hadn't moved.

"Sam? Come on, we're going to go into the hallway now."

Samantha looked up at her dryly. Melissa was a good woman, 
but had the annoying tendency to act as if Sam's mental processes 
had stopped along with her life history at eight years of age. 
She waved briskly at her, indicating that they should keep going. 
None of you realize it yet, but this is about Fox. I need to 
be here.

Melissa didn't pick up on the subtext, but went into the 
hallway with her arms around her beaming mother. After the 
door shut, they sat in silence for a moment.

"It's overwhelming," Samantha said -- the first words she'd 
spoken in hours. 

Scully nodded, trembling slightly. Sam clucked her tongue 
in sympathy. "You're out of balance. Hold on." She crept 
to Dana's side, and began moving her hands gently over her -- 
stroking Scully's forehead, arms, legs, and abdomen with a 
light touch. Despite the fact that Sam's fingers were barely
touching her, Dana could feel a comforting warmth spreading 
through her. Sammie had demonstrated this odd technique before, 
and right now Dana was of no mind to question the source. 
She sighed gently, relaxing at last.

Dana turned and gave her daughter a long look. I'm a mother; 
am I ready for that? It's not the time I would have chosen. 
If it weren't for the fact that this is the only child I'll ever 
have a chance to have with Mulder, I wouldn't have gone through 
with this. But I'll make the best of it.

She sighed again, now with something that was both resignation
and acceptance. "She *is* beautiful, isn't she?"

"Looks just like you," Samantha agreed, running her hands along 
the thin white webbing of stretch marks along Dana's sides. 

They were quiet for a little while longer, until Scully finally
spoke. "That's not the only reason she's beautiful. She's Fox's 
daughter too. And the final result of our love for each other."

Sam smiled, but knew Dana wasn't completely comforted yet. 
"The final result."

Dana listened to her own words for a second, then whispered, 
"The end. That's why I keep pushing this away -- as long as I had 
her within me, things were more or less the same as when Mulder 
was here. Her birth changes everything. And it means he's truly 
gone."

Shaking her head, Samantha lifted the child easily from 
her mother's side, holding her expertly before Dana. "No. 
You told me once that I was a part of my brother's life every 
day, even though he hadn't seen me in over twenty years. 
No matter how far away Fox is, he's always with us. Through our
memories, and now through -- what name did you finally choose?"

"Rebecca. Rebecca Margaret Scully." Dana held her arms out 
at last; the act of naming her daughter had made this real for her. 
Samantha smiled and gently deposited the baby into her mother's 
embrace, carefully balancing the little head as she did so.

They sat in a silence too perfect for words for a long moment. 
Then Scully spoke carefully, evenly. "You certainly know how 
to take care of babies."

"Yes. Yes, I do." Sam refused to let the memories spoil 
the moment for her. 

Dana, for her part, looked up with sad eyes at Samantha, 
convinced at last of what she had feared since she'd bathed 
Sammie in the hospital eight months ago.

And run her hand over the same sort of stretch marks along 
her side.

*** 


Fox didn't seem surprised. No reason for him to be. But 
his face was lined with pain at the certain knowledge of what 
his sister had been asked to endure. After a decent pause, 
he asked roughly, "Only one child?"

"No. Fox, this isn't something I can talk about."

He nodded, and sat heavily on the ground. Samantha walked 
slowly around him in a circle, trying to picture their faces. 
It had been so long ago, and for so short a time -- 

She pushed it away, spoke again more evenly. "Becoming a 
mother changed Dana's outlook. Changed Dana herself."

"Changed her into a woman I don't really know." Mulder folded 
his knees up to his chest, rested his chin upon them.

"You're wrong there, Fox. These years *have* transformed her 
-- but she is still the woman you remembeer. The center of her, 
the essence of what makes her Dana Scully -- that's still there. 
You just have to reach her."

"I don't know if she wants to be reached," Mulder whispered. 

Samantha considered that for a second. "No -- she wants that 
as much as you do. But she's frightened."

"So am I."

She patted her brother's shoulder softly, then tugged her 
sweater a little more closely around herself. "I'm going to go 
back in. Don't stay out here too long, okay?"

Mulder nodded, but didn't even turn to watch as his sister 
trudged up to the little green house.

As Sam stepped in through the back door, she shook her 
long hair out of the ponytail and wandered through the house 
looking for Dana. She found her upstairs, checking her email 
as Becca slept on the sofa nearby.

"How's he doing?" Scully asked, without even turning from 
the grey screen.

"He's worried. Alienated -- no puns intended. But coming 
along. Much stronger than I was at this point." Dana did look 
backward at that, sharing a warm look with the woman who had 
become closer to her than her own sister.

Sam HAD been a wreck when she was first returned. She was 
a woman of thirty-four whose only applicable life experience 
was that of an eight-year-old. Besides recovering from her 
tortures, she was hopelessly behind; she'd never been on a date, 
gone to junior high much less college. Never earned a paycheck. 
Never ridden a bike.

There had been times this ignorance had actually provided 
enjoyment, even delight. Scully had been taken aback one night, 
after she'd been with her about a month, to find Sammie staring 
slack-jawed at the television. After a second, she turned to 
Dana and cried, "This is the BEST movie! What IS this?"

Star Wars.

To Samantha, everything was new. Every song on the radio 
was something delightfully original, every old rerun on TV had 
the potential for surprise. Scully had reveled in introducing 
her to the things she'd enjoyed most over the years to see 
what Sam would make of them; she screamed her head off at 
"Jurassic Park," laughed herself silly at old episodes of 
"Moonlighting," but dismissed "E.T." as propaganda. She was 
thrilled to find out Star Trek HAD come back after all, 
though she spent the first few TNG reruns wondering where
the hell Spock was. 

This had its down side, occasionally; Samantha developed 
a nauseating fascination with disco that had never truly died, 
and Scully'd been forced to scour some second-hand shops once 
in a desperate search for a BeeGees poster that Sam actually 
wanted. Still, it had been fun sometimes.

When they left pop culture, and tried to deal with the 
*life* that Samantha had left behind, it was far harder. 
While she'd become outgoing, even vivacious, with the people 
she knew and trusted, strangers, particularly crowds, could 
sometimes overwhelm her. Her education was spotty -- she 
sometimes displayed a knack with mathematics or computers 
that sent chills down Dana's spine. Yet she could still 
only read at perhaps a seventh-grade level, and her handwriting 
still looked as if it cried out for one of those fat pencils 
people use in early grades.

Essentially, Scully had realized within a couple of 
months that Sam would never be able to live on her own. 
While she was a woman of intelligence and strength, 
Samantha would always require sheltering and support.

And Dana had provided that support, without a second 
thought, or one regret. Sam had given her infinitely more 
than she'd taken.

She was trying to help Dana again now. "Fox is scared. 
Overwhelmed by the changes in our lives, and in us."

"I know," Scully said, softly. "I remember how strange 
it all seemed to me when I came back -- and I'd only been 
gone three months. That was more than long enough to make 
the entire world seem strange. I can imagine what's he's
going through."

"But you can't yet go through it with him."

"No." Scully clicked the computer off, without even 
reading her last letter. "I can't -- be what I was to him 
before. I'm not the *person* I was before."

"You need to help him find a way to discover the person 
you are now."

Dana nodded. "You're right. But how? There's still 
such a distance between us -- "

"You'll find a way," Sammie smiled, then picked the 
drowsy Rebecca up to take her to her bed for the afternoon 
nap. She didn't doubt that for one second -- one of the more 
childlike aspects of Sam's personality was her absolute, 
uncritical faith in the woman who had become more than a sister
to her now. Almost a mother. Certainly Dana was more willing 
to take on that role than Claudia Mulder, who had refused 
her second chance.

***

November 3, 1997 
Chilmarc, Massachusetts


Dana stopped the car in front of the small house where 
Mulder's mother lived -- the house Fox and Samantha had grown 
up in. Next to her, Sam shivered slightly; was she remembering? 
Good times or bad? Hard to guess from the blank expression 
on her face.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Scully whispered, patting 
her hand.

"I want to see her. I *need* to see her. She doesn't return 
your calls, she hangs up on me -- but maybe when she *sees* me, Dana. 
She'll know I'm her little girl; she'd just know it, wouldn't she?" 
The terrible need in Sam's voice made made Scully bite her lower 
lip in fear. This could go incredibly wrong, she thought.

Still, if there was any chance, they needed to take it. Despite 
all Dana's attempts to convince Mrs. Mulder that her daughter had 
truly been returned, to try and talk to her about Fox's disappearance,
she'd never been able to get in more than a few words edgewise 
before Claudia found a reason to end the conversation. At first, 
Dana had hoped that it was just shock -- that when Mrs. Mulder 
got home from the vacation she'd been taking she would face 
the situation.

That didn't seem to be happening. And Samantha *needed* her 
mother. With her father dead, and her brother vanished, this woman 
was the only tie Sam had to the life she'd left behind. Scully 
knew it was important for the fragile person next to her to have 
as much continuity, as much support, as possible. While she was 
beginning to realize that Sammie might be living with her for a 
long time, Scully did want Claudia to be a part of her daughter's 
life. It would be the best thing for them both.

And it would make it a little easier to tell Claudia she was 
about to be a grandmother.

They walked quickly up the steps to the door; to her credit, 
Sam didn't hesitate or fumble before knocking loudly on the door. 
Pounding, almost. 

She ought to, Dana realized, it's *her* house.

After a moment, Mrs. Mulder opened the door. Her jaw dropped 
in shock when she saw the two women standing there; for one second, 
Scully saw something like hope in her eyes. But then she narrowed 
them, tried to shut the door again.

Scully threw her hand in the way, ignoring the painful crunch 
of the doorjamb; she forced it back open, got them into the hallway. 
"Damnit, NO. You've *got* to see her."

"To see who, Dr. Scully? Another pretender?" Even though 
Mrs. Mulder knew full well that Dana and Fox had been lovers 
of long standing, she was still utterly formal with her.

"Mama -- LOOK at me. Don't you know me?" Samantha's voice 
was shaky, her dark eyes wide. "Look me in the face!"

 Claudia looked at Sam for a long moment. The same dark hair. 
The same snub nose. The angular chin so like Fox's. The wide-set 
eyes so like Bill's.

"I've been fooled before. Not again, thanks." Mrs. Mulder's 
voice shook, and Scully had to fight the urge to reach out and 
shake this woman senseless. She *wants* to believe, I can hear it. 
Why won't she? Why can't she?

Dana fought to control herself; it was hard enough with Sam 
there, trembling with hurt, but it was also now sinking in to her 
that this had been Fox's house -- that there were childhood 
pictures of him on the walls, pictures she had never seen. 
In a little league cap. Kindergarden graduation. Wearing
a diaper --

She ran one hand over her still-flat stomach, trying to 
steady herself. "Mrs. Mulder, I have talked to this woman 
for a *long* time. Everything she says convinces me that 
she's truly Samantha. Beyond that, I've personally rechecked 
her fingerprints, dental records, and DNA. This IS your
daughter."

"No," Claudia shook her head and turned away from the pair,
retreating within herself. "I won't be hurt again. I won't 
lose her again. I can't do it."

Sam flung out her arms, as a scolded child begging for 
forgiveness might. "Oh, Mama, PLEASE! *This* is when you're 
losing me, can't you see that?"

Dana grabbed one of Samantha's hands to try and comfort her, 
and spoke roughly. "How can you do this to her? How can you 
not even try?"

"Don't you dare presume to lecture me, Dr. Scully. Not 
until you've lost your entire family in ways you cannot understand, 
that no one will explain. Not until you've been a mother and 
learned what it is to love a child -- and then have it taken 
away."

THAT sent a cold chill down Dana's spine, but she straightened 
up and answered, "I *have* lost people. I lost my father. 
I lost Fox. But I have the courage to keep going, not to turn 
away from the others who love me. And I hope *I* have the strength 
to love my baby no matter what happens -- not to ever become some 
frightened, bitter woman who can't stop looking out for herself 
to take care of her child."

Claudia's eyes flashed briefly as she realized that Dana was
pregnant; for one second, Scully actually thought she saw the 
shadow of a smile on her face. But the angry words drove her 
back in her shell; Scully could've bitten her tongue off as 
Mrs. Mulder drew her cardigan more closely around her.

"Leave my house," she whispered.

No strength in that voice, no command, but it didn't matter 
-- the rejection was complete. Sam slumpeed as she dropped her 
hands to her sides.

"Come on, Samantha," Dana sighed. "We did our best."

Sam waited one more minute, looking around the room she'd 
spent so many hours in. Many times redecorated, even remodeled 
-- but she could still see the places wheere she'd been told stories, 
spoiled by an older brother, and loved as much as any other child 
in the world.

Days long past.

"You stopped looking for me, Mama. But when you look again, 
you'll be able to find me," Samantha whispered, before turning and 
walking out to the car without one backward glance.

***



Claudia Mulder is a fool, Scully thought, looking down at Sam; 
she'd dozed off on the sofa, her copy of "Island of the Blue 
Dolphins" splayed across her chest. Dana could only hope Rebecca 
would grow up to be as wonderful as Samantha. She brushed the 
dark bangs away from Sam's face for a moment, then turned her 
attention to the household around her.

The rest of the day had gone well; Mulder had dozed for a 
while late in the afternoon without dreaming at all, Rebecca had 
woken up from her nap in a good mood and after a little coaxing 
even let Fox read a story to her -- Dana's mouth quirked up a 
corner, remembering his sleepy voice struggling to put some
drama into "The Poky Little Puppy." Still, she felt a little 
queasy in her stomach; she and Mulder had managed to avoid all 
but polite conversation since their confrontation this morning.

And it was almost time for bed.

But as she started up the stairs, she heard the sound of a 
heavy box being dropped in the study, and Fox's voice cursing
softly. Scully, curious, headed in to see what was happening.

Mulder was sitting on the floor; most of his clothes were 
hung up in the closet there. A box containing his few remaining 
possessions (shoes, et al) as next to him, a bit strained at 
the seams. He caught Scully's surprised expression and shrugged.

"I figured this might be the best idea for the time being," 
he said softly.

She stood silently for a long moment, then swallowed hard 
and replied, "This sofa bed is awful, Mulder. You're still not 
well. Why don't you let me sleep in here?"

Fox didn't know whether to be happy that she was still 
worried about his welfare, or hurt that she'd accepted the 
idea of separate bedrooms so easily. "No -- you're still
pretty well settled in over there. I don't have as much 
stuff to move -- thanks to the Great Bonfire." He grinned 
ruefully; Scully's sheepishness about admitting she'd torched 
his stuff had almost soothed the pain of losing so many of 
his possessions. (Not the "I Want To Believe" poster, though. 
THAT was a bitch.)

"You're right," she nodded. Dana stood there a few moments 
longer, still uncertain of what to say. After the pause 
had become awkward, she turned and simply walked away.

It takes time, Mulder reminded himself in an attempt 
to cheer up. Yet his heart was heavy as he did what little 
unpacking he had to do, and set up the bed. Yet just as he 
was sliding beneath the blankets to try to sleep, there 
was a soft tapping at the door.

"Come in," he said calmly, trying to ignore the pounding 
in his chest.

Dana tiptoed inside; the sight of her in her striped men's 
pajamas was, at that moment, sexier to Mulder than any negligee 
could have been. But her body language was still stiff, bashful.

"Mulder, I just wanted to say -- I know you're still having 
difficult dreams. I don't want you going through all this by 
yourself if you don't feel you can. Please -- just say you won't 
hesitate to call me if you need me, okay?"

"I won't. Thanks," he answered, warmed at least by her concern. 
Fox waited for her to turn and go, but apparently she still had 
something on her mind.

"And -- I wanted to give you this." Scully held out something 
he hadn't realized she was carrying; it was a small, cloth-covered 
book. A journal, he realized. When he looked, puzzled, into her 
face, she shrugged. "I was in therapy for a while when you were 
gone. My analyst suggested keeping a journal in ink instead of 
typing on the computer; he said it got you deeper in touch with 
your feelings. After a few months, I realized he was right. 
I worked through a lot of my problems by writing in this book; 
it occurred to me that maybe if you read it -- you might 
understand me a little better."

He accepted the book almost reverently, running one hand 
along its binder. "Scully -- you didn't write this for anyone 
else to see. This is very personal."

She nodded. "There's nobody else in the world I would 
give this to, Mulder. But it's okay -- there's nothing in 
there I wouldn't have said to you if you'd been with me."

"Thank you," he whispered.

After pausing one moment longer, Scully bent down quickly 
and kissed him -- although it was only a soft, short kiss, 
Mulder felt the gentleness he so missed in her touch. As she 
leaned back from him, he touched her cheek. "I love you, Scully."

"I love you too. Good night." With that, she tiptoed back out. 
For a long time, Mulder simply stared at the closed door, clutching 
the journal to his chest as if it were a life preserver in the 
middle of a raging sea.

Behind that door, Scully stood, shaking. She lifted one hand 
to touch the wood, wishing that somehow, there was some way she 
could go back through that door -- that holding him close, making 
love to him as she so longed to do would magically make everything 
right.

But she was old enough to know better. After a little while, 
Dana turned around and went to her empty room.

***

May 22, 1998
Jonquil, South Carolina


"Owww!" Scully protested, as she adjusted her nursing daughter 
in her arms. Maggie cocked an eyebrow at her. "God, Mom. I thought 
feeding your baby was supposed to be this beautiful, sensual 
experience."

"And it's not?" Melissa asked, realizing her mother's shoulders 
were shaking with laughter.

"This kid sucks like a Hoover. Lord," Dana sighed, adjusting 
to let the hungry little person drink her fill.

"Wait until she's teething," Margaret chuckled. "Now *that's* 
when it gets fun." Scully's eyes widened in dismay, and Maggie 
finally had to leave the room to slow her laughter.

Dana's predicament wasn't the only thing contributing to 
Maggie's jubilant mood; she had other grandchildren, but she'd 
been instrumental in supporting Dana through her pregnancy. 
Become much closer to her daughter as a result. And she 
couldn't help but be happy that something of Fox was left to them;
Mrs. Scully sighed briefly, remembering the young man who'd loved 
Dana more than his own life -- in the end, more than anything 
except his sister's life.

As if on cue, Samantha appeared at the foot of the stairs. 
"Everything okay?" she asked.

"Just wonderful, Sam. How about you? Are you getting enough 
rest with the baby crying at night?" Maggie stroked the younger 
woman's dark hair.

"Oh, yes ma'am -- " Sammie started as the doorbell chimed. 
"Oh, boy, more curious friends. I think we've had half the 
faculty of McCrory College in here these last two days." 

Sam bounded towards the door, ready to hug the visitor and 
grab the baby gift; yet when she opened it, the pink-ribboned 
package was held by none other than Claudia Mulder.

Maggie had never before seen Mulder's mother, yet she knew 
her instantly; if the uncanny resemblance to her son hadn't 
tipped Margaret off, Samantha's reaction would have -- the 
young woman had gone completely pale, and yet was smiling 
hesitantly.

"Mama?" she whispered.

But Claudia swept by Sam as if the door had simply opened on 
its own. She forced a smile as she looked up at Margaret. 
"You must be Dana's mother. I'm -- "

"I realize who you are, Mrs. Mulder. I'm rather curious 
as to why you're here," Maggie said, folding her arms across 
her chest.

That stopped her in her tracks. She stood at the foot 
of the stairs, just below Mrs. Scully, looking up at her 
in confusion. "Isn't it obvious? I'm curious to see my 
granddaughter."

"But not your daughter."

"My daughter *isn't* here," Mrs. Mulder hissed, almost 
desperately.

Maggie wasn't beyond feeling pity for this woman; decades 
of pain and loss had scarred her deeply. But that was no excuse 
for what she was doing to Sam, who stood trembling only feet away.

"Then neither is your granddaughter," Margaret replied. 

"What can you mean?"

"What I mean, Mrs. Mulder, is that there's no point in 
coming here to acknowledge one member of your family until 
you're willing to acknowledge them all. And that you aren't 
welcome in this house, or in Rebecca's life, until 
you have the courage to accept your own child."

"How dare you -- " Claudia was trembling, not so much with 
anger as with emotional exhaustion; it had clearly taken all 
her courage just to walk through the door. Maggie felt a twinge 
of guilt, but suppressed it. This is the only way, she 
reminded herself.

"I do dare. And that's final. Now you can turn around 
and try to talk to your younger child or you can just walk 
out that door."

Claudia stood there for another long moment, as if trying 
to find words to change Margaret's mind. But then she wheeled 
around and went back out the open door, still held by the 
now-weeping Samantha. Without one word or gesture, she 
hurried back out to her car, still gripping the gift in
white-knuckled hands.

As she got into the car, Sam slammed the door with all 
the strength in her body, then ran to the back of the house. 
Margaret sighed, then called up the stairs.

"Did I do the right thing?"

From her room upstairs, where she'd been listening in 
shock, Dana replied, "Absolutely."

(end Part 2)

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

From: mimidana@aol.com (MimiDana)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: Repost: Renewal (3/4)
Date: 4 Jul 1995 07:05:30 -0400


Remember to send all comments on the story to XFScully@aol.com. 









--Mimi

***************
RENEWAL (Pt 3)
by Amy Vincent
***************

***

December 23, 1999


Mulder shook his head, as if to clear it, after reading 
Dana's account in her journal. Hearing about his mother's 
treatment of Samantha made his blood boil; we prayed for 
this all these years, Mom, and now you just turned your
back on the miracle? The miracle I gave up my *life* for?

Still, even through his anger, he admired Maggie's style. 
It took guts to say that to a woman she didn't know, he thought; 
but if any woman could do it, it's Mrs. Scully.

His thoughts were broken by one small word. "Daddy?"

He wheeled around to see Becca standing in the door of 
the study, sniffling and holding up a finger for his inspection. 
Fox rose from his makeshift bed to kneel beside her, trying not 
to let his happiness -- Daddy, she's never called me that before 
-- distract him from whatever needed to bbe done. "What's the 
matter, honey?"

"Becca fell over," she whimpered; as he took her tiny hand 
in his own, he could see a cut, small but bleeding, along 
Rebecca's forefinger.

"And you hurt your hand. Don't worry, it's just a little 
cut. We'll go downstairs to get the bandaid, and wash it off, 
and then it'll be good as new, okay?" Mulder felt like he was 
blithering along like an idiot, but he was so overjoyed he couldn't 
care. She called me Daddy, and she came to me when something 
was wrong. Rebecca trusts me now, she feels like she can depend
on me.

She loves me, Fox finally allowed himself to think, knowing 
it was true; Becca was now smiling up at him through the tears 
on her chubby cheeks. A rush of emotion, of utter protectiveness, 
swept through him with an intensity he'd never known -- he'd 
never felt anything like this, not for Scully, not for Sam.

Only for his daughter.

"Dinos?" she asked.

"What? Oh, the dinosaur bandaids. You can have whatever 
kind you want, Becca," he said, sweeping her up in his arms to 
carry her downstairs.


"So, is he still sleeping in the study?"

"M-O-MMMM," Scully groaned, adjusting the phone beneath 
her ear to allow her to toss the salad. 

"Dana, I'm just concerned. The two of you haven't made as 
much progress in patching things up as I would've hoped; 
not sharing a bed's a pretty good indicator."

"You're the soul of tact, you know that?"

"Tact doesn't solve problems. In fact, with you and Fox 
it may be creating them. If you're still feeling hurt about 
what he's done, you have to face him with it," Maggie insisted.

 Scully paused for a moment. "I know. I know. But I 
feel guilty -- it's not like he ran off to Club Med. He spent 
the last two years being tortured, for God's sake."

"Honey, if I know Fox, the distance between you is hurting 
him more than any confrontation ever could."

As her mother spoke, Scully saw Mulder descending the stairs, 
Rebecca in his hands -- with a flash of alarm, she saw the blood 
on the little girl's hand. "Oh, Mom, something's come up; I have 
to go."

"Call me tomorrow," Margaret managed before Dana'd hung up 
the phone.

"What's the matter?" Scully said, holding up her arms to 
take her daughter. 

Mulder, reluctant to give her up, said, "She cut her finger; 
it's not serious but I was going to wash it up for her -- "

Dana plucked the child out of his arms without a second 
thought. "Here, honey, let me see."

"Scully, I can do this; you were busy -- "

"Don't worry about it," she said, now engrossed in examining
Rebecca's wound. 

Fox stood there a few moments more, feeling awkward and 
superfluous. Finally he said, "Well, at least let me take over 
fixing lunch while you do this."

"Mulder, no. I've got everything under control, okay?" 
Her voice was annoyed even through the distraction.

Angry words rose in his throat, but he forced them back; 
first by thinking that it wouldn't reassure Becca at all to hear 
him shout at her mother, and secondly through guilt. She's right 
-- she's kept things under control here ffor a long time. Who am 
I to interfere?

*Rebecca's father,* a voice within him answered, but Fox simply
turned and went back upstairs, trying to ignore the pain. We used 
to share every chore equally, he thought. She even put up with 
the omelets so I'd be cooking. Now I'm no more than a ghost 
in this house. Not Scully's husband. Not Rebecca's father. 
Just the invalid, trying to stop screaming in the night. Yet 
his frustrations were tempered with understanding; he'd read enough
of Dana's journal now to realize that she'd *had* to take control. 
That anything less would have destroyed her, and perhaps Becca and 
Sam along with her. As he flopped back down on the sofabed, 
Mulder shivered as he remembered the entry he'd read yesterday 
-- just another example of a time when Sccully would've collapsed 
without anything less than the full power of her courage.


May 21, 1998


"I can't watch," Frohicke said, ducking his head behind his 
hands.

"Don't, then," Scully replied curtly, tugging her robe more 
tightly around her. She was still woozy from last night -- Rebecca 
was less than 12 hours old, after all -- but Dana knew she could 
not live even one whole day in suspense.

Briskly, she took a needle up and pricked her baby's hand. The
shriek of pain and surprise echoed through the house, and made all 
three of the Lone Gunmen jump, but Scully coolly took the thin 
glass tube and collected a blood sample. "You sure you know how 
to run this machine?" she asked.

"I'm certain of it," Byers said, grateful to have something 
to do. "The latest thing in genetic scanning; used by our 
benevolent government to watch us, track us -- "

"The tube," Scully reminded him.

"Gotcha," he said, running it through the scanner. They all 
four watched, in a reverent hush, as the iridescent lights filtered 
through the blood. 

 Dana held the whimpering Rebecca close to her, stilling her 
sobs as the scanner continued. 

Finally, its whirring stopped, and blue letters appeared in 
the screen: NEGATIVE FOR PATTERN.

"She doesn't have it!" Langley cried, then winced as Rebecca 
burst forth in new crying.

"You idiot," Frohicke snapped, bashing Langley over the head 
with his cap.

Dana just laughed, holding the squalling infant still closer. 
She doesn't have it, she thought. Rebecca doesn't have the pattern 
of UFO abductees. She's safe. I can protect her. 

***


By that evening, Mulder had calmed down; the breakthrough with
Rebecca delighted him too much for Scully's reaction to completely 
depress him. Samantha, too, had been overjoyed. "See? That didn't 
even take so much time, really. When she gets older, she'll 
never even remember you were gone."

He hoped not. Right now, it certainly seemed as if he had 
never been away; Becca was rolling a ball back and forth with him, 
giggling wildly at his intentionally goofy attempts to field her 
clumsy pitches. Even Dana had paused from her constant work to 
watch, and had ruffled his hair affectionately.

"I always knew you had a clown down in there somewhere," she 
laughed.

"You make it sound like I'm hiding Bozo behind my spleen. 
Here, honey, I'm gonna roll this one fast, okay?"

Rebecca nodded her head, and held her little arms out wide. 
The doorbell chimed. "I'll get it," Sam offered, unwilling to see 
the family unit disturbed. Behind her, Fox bounced the ball once 
before rolling it towards his daughter.

She opened the door; Claudia Mulder stood there once again, 
looking thinner and older than when Sam had last seen her. 
They faced each other, pale and silent for a long second.

"Sam? Who is -- " Dana's voice trailed off as she looked 
towards the door; next to her, Fox gasped.

"GOT IT!" Becca cried, wrapping her arms around the ball, 
before realizing that for some reason the game seemed to have 
stopped.

"Hello, Mama," Sam said evenly.

"Samantha," she replied, voice trembling but under control. 
Scully's eyes widened in surprise.

"Hi, Mom. What brings you to this neck of the woods?" 
It had been so long since Scully'd heard that hard, sarcastic 
edge to Mulder's voice that she'd almost forgotten it.

Mrs. Mulder hadn't forgotten, apparently; she squared her 
shoulders as if she'd been expecting this. "Fox, I had heard 
that you were -- back home. Are you all right?"

"Peachy keen. Long way to drive just to get a status report. 
Haven't you ever just let your fingers do the walking?"

"Fox," Sam warned, her voice low.

He didn't seem to hear her; Mulder pushed himself to his 
feet to face his mother more squarely. Claudia, however, knew 
what she had to say.

"It's Christmas. I wanted to be with my son. I wanted to 
see my granddaughter. And -- and I wanted to tell my daughter 
I'm sorry." She looked back over at Samantha, whose dark eyes 
were now glistening with tears. "Darling, I -- I don't know 
what to say to you. To tell you what it's like to feel that 
you have no more hope left in you. All I can say is that I'm
so glad you're all right," her voice cracked in a sob, "and 
that even if there isn't a place for me in your life now, 
I can never be truly unhappy again. Not if you're alive and 
safe and well."

"Oh, Mama," Sammie whispered, enveloping Claudia in 
her long-armed embrace. "There's always a place for you. 
Don't you remember? I told you that when you were ready to 
look for me, I would be here."

Mrs. Mulder took hold of her then, gripping her daughter's 
shoulders as if she would never let go. 

Scully bit her lip. If it were me, she thought, I couldn't 
forgive so easily. But I'm not the person who's been wronged 
here. That's Samantha. And if Samantha chooses to take her 
mother back into her life, it's not my place to judge. 
Anyway, it was hard not to be moved by the sight of the two 
women crying in each other's arms. 

From the floor, Becca whispered, "Who's that?"

"Rebecca, that's your grandmother," Scully answered.

"Nuh-uh." Becca frowned. Grandma had black hair in a 
ponytail and always wore blue jeans. This lady didn't 
look like her at all.

"It's your other grandmother, honey. Daddy's mother."

For his part, Fox was studying the two women almost 
dispassionately. Then, to his surprise, he found himself 
wishing desperately for his father. Dad, for all the harm 
you caused us, all the mistakes you made, you'd have given 
up anything to be here now. And as much as I sometimes hated 
you, I'd do almost anything to have you see this. "Becca?" 
he said hoarsely.

She looked up at him with those hazel-gold eyes -- 
the only feature she'd inherited from him. "Sweetheart, 
would you like to say hello to your grandmother? 
I think she'd like that."

Dana stared up at him in surprise. It was utterly unlike 
Fox to reach out like this -- to drop his emotional shields 
and try to connect to someone who'd been so distant. She 
watched, speechless, as he lifted Rebecca up in his arms
and walked over to the two women in the doorway. 

Rebecca was confused; they'd been having lots of fun 
just seconds ago, and now everybody acted like they were 
going to cry. Even this lady with the gray hair, who was 
trying to smile at her, had tears streaming down her cheeks 
She felt scared, and gripped onto her father's shirt. 
He patted her back, comforting her. Finally Becca said 
the only thing she could think of. 

"Hello." Claudia laughed, and threw her arms around 
Fox and Becca together. Sam gave Mulder an luminescent smile, 
thanking him without words for his generosity. Fox sighed, 
feeling the last strands of resentment slip from him. Life's 
too short, he reminded himself. The three of us have spent 
almost 30 years apart. That's long enough.

In the living room behind them, Scully kept watching them, 
her emotions in a tumult. For Samantha's sake, she was 
desperately glad that Mrs. Mulder had finally come to her 
senses. It was good that Rebecca would get to know both 
her grandmothers. And it was nothing short of astonishing to see
Mulder behave this way; that kind of forgiveness, that emotional 
strength, was something he hadn't displayed as a younger man 
-- it was a sign that he was not only reccovering, but maturing 
beyond the person he'd been before he was abducted.

All of this was good.

Why then did she look on the happy family in her house and 
feel as if she were a thousand miles away?


Through all the storytelling and laughter and weeping that 
filled the rest of the night, Mulder *did* notice Scully's 
withdrawal. She was quiet, reserved. At first he chalked it 
up to her desire not to intrude on the family reunion, but 
after a while it became clear that she was truly ill at ease.
Later that night, when Mrs. Mulder and Samantha had bedded down 
in Sam's downstairs bedroom, and Dana and Becca were asleep, Fox 
couldn't help but wonder why.

Is she still angry at Mom? he wondered. Wouldn't blame 
her if she were -- but it's not like Scully to hold back if 
she's truly upset.

At least, it didn't used to be -- Mulder sighed, frustrated 
again by the continuing separation between them. He picked up 
her journal, by now dog-eared from his reading, hoping that 
perhaps this night's entry would provide yet another clue.



**May 24, 1998

I can't believe it; Mom and Rebecca are both asleep, and 
Melissa's gone to the grocery store with Sam. For the first 
time in days, I actually have a few minutes of peace and quiet.

This isn't necessarily a good thing. With enough silence to 
hear myself think, I find myself remembering Mulder more than ever 
-- I want him here so badly my bones achee. I want to see him 
look down at his daughter in wonder and awe. I want to see that 
happiness wash all the pain away from those tortured eyes.

But he gave up this privilege, didn't he? Gave me up without 
one word -- In my darker moments, I find myself wondering whether 
he wasn't, in some way, *glad* to leave; whether he wasn't overwhelmed 
by the commitments between us. I threw away everything to follow 
him; he tried to tell me not to! Maybe he wasn't ready to be so 
totally responsible for me.

Still, I know that's not true. At least not entirely. 
I haven't had a chance to write about this yet, but, about 
two weeks ago, I was going through Mulder's things. I was 
going to give some of his clothes to charity; it would be 
easier not to have to look at them, and it would make room for 
the baby's things. But when I picked up a pair of his shoes, 
I found a ring -- **


"Oh, DAMN!" Mulder swore. The ring! How could he have 
forgotten that? Why hadn't he looked for it before now? As he 
kept reading, the pain and hurt in Scully's heart seemed to 
bleed off the pages; the mental image of her sobbing as she 
clutched his note slashed through him, leaving him physically 
weak.


**Finally, I managed to get myself up; I decided that 
if I wasn't going to wear it, I wanted it the hell out of 
sight. This is so awful, but I just took it and threw it 
in the cedar chest, which I almost never open. Someday, 
later, if my child needs to know that his or her father 
really loved us, I can always take it out. The only 
proof I'll have. At least if it's in there, it's safe.**


After a few long minutes, Fox got out of bed and went 
over to the cedar chest, which was in the corner of the study. 
There it was -- a tiny grey velvety box, with a by-now yellowed 
note crumpled around it. Mulder unfolded it with shaking hands, 
read his two-year-old marriage proposal through the tearstains 
that blurred the ink.

"Oh, Scully, I'm so sorry," he whispered, then thought, 
why am I saying this to thin air? Why hasn't Scully *told* 
me about any of this herself? How have we managed to live 
a month in this house without even talking about what's
wrong?

Fox got up, began pacing across the floor. He knew a 
large part of his silence stemmed from guilt; he was still 
furious with himself for hurting Dana so much. But then, 
he asked himself, would I do things differently if I had 
them to do over? Knowing only what I knew then? Trading 
for Sam WAS the right thing to do. The bravest thing 
I've ever done. How long am I going to torture myself 
for that? 

The only thing I should've done differently was tell 
Scully what I was planning. And, honestly, I think the 
secrecy is the only thing she still truly blames me for. 
She *does* still blame me, no matter how hard she tries to
be careful with me.

Then he stopped in his tracks.

Oh, hell. That's it.

(end Part 3)

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

From: mimidana@aol.com (MimiDana)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: Repost: Renewal (4/4)
Date: 4 Jul 1995 07:05:31 -0400


Remember to send all comments on the story to XFScully@aol.com. 










 --Mimi

***************
RENEWAL (Pt 4)
by Amy Vincent
***************

***


Christmas Eve went well. Mrs. Mulder helped them with the 
final decorations and cooking, even baking one of the chocolate 
pound cakes Fox and Samantha had both craved since childhood. 
Rebecca was now old enough to have some vague ideas about Santa 
Claus, and was getting progressively more excited at the idea 
of receiving a LOT of toys. 

They all tried to get Claudia to stay for Christmas itself, 
but she refused; she hadn't even told her neighbors she was 
leaving, she'd promised to help with the church luncheon, etc. 
Mulder also suspected that his mother was also not quite prepared 
to face Mrs. Scully, who would be flying in tomorrow afternoon. 
Still, it was actually an enjoyable visit, filled with old stories 
and making much over Becca. We've still got a lot of patching 
up to do, he thought, but this is a good beginning.

Scully, meanwhile, was still running herself ragged. Between 
calling around to make sure that Melissa, Bill Jr., and Margaret 
would all be arriving at the Columbia airport within an hour of 
each other, trying to watch Claudia's technique with the cake 
so that she could duplicate it later, change the dressing on 
Becca's litle cut, she still managed to do a thousand other 
things. While she would sometimes let Sam or Fox watch over 
Rebecca, otherwise she kept moving, kept trying to remain in 
complete control. Mulder kept his silence, but watched her 
with new eyes.

That night, after Mrs. Mulder had tearfully set off in 
her rental car for the airport, and Samantha had finally coaxed 
Rebecca to bed, Dana began towing boxes out from the car trunk. 
Fox plopped down on the floor by the Christmas tree, and got 
to work putting together the Lil' Chef Play Kitchen.

"Mulder, if you're tired, I can handle this," Scully said, 
touching his hair briefly. He smiled up at her, knowing that, 
truthfully, only concern motivated her -- but was determined 
to stand his ground.

"No way, Scully. You think I'm gonna pass up the chance to 
play Santa for the first time in my life?" 

"If only you'd kept the beard," she chuckled, "you'd look 
perfect."

"Excuse me? I'm not that grey just yet, and not NEARLY 
that fat."

"You will be if your mom keeps it up with the pound cakes."

He grinned back at her, then devoted his attention to 
figuring out how the over door attached.

For the next hour or so, it was almost like old times; they 
were laughing and joking about all the gifts, teasing each other, 
working together. At one point, the talking Big Bird *began* 
talking and wouldn't shut up -- after a few desperate attempts 
to hush it so Rebecca wouldn't be awakened, Mulder had to
pretend to smother it under a pillow, and Dana got so hysterical 
(trying to laugh silently) that they couldn't get *anything* done.

But finally, somehow, they got everything arranged perfectly; 
Scully stood back to admire the array. "This looks wonderful. 
She's going to love it."

Fox was still examining a few of the toys. "I admit, Scully, 
I'm kind of surprised you bought the little oven. Sounds 
suspiciously like gender stereotyping to me."

She swatted at his shoulder. "I'll have you notice that I've 
*also* bought the Lil' Helper Tool Kit. Hopefully she'll get 
the hint."

Mulder thought he saw an opening. "Don't you think she'd 
be more likely to 'get the hint' if she saw equal sharing around 
the house? I mean, you've been carrying a lot of the weight 
around here for a long time. Why don't you let me do more?"

"You're still not well -- " Dana frowned.

"The doctor says I'm perfectly healthy. Psychologically I may 
still have a way to go, but the last time I checked, I was okay 
to put a bandaid on my daughter's finger. You're not letting me 
do these things, Scully, and I want to do them. I *need* to do 
them. Why are you fighting me?"

Fox's voice was soft, but Scully still felt her temper flickering
into flame. Being careful to keep her voice steady, she answered 
"I've been taking care of her for a long time -- I've been 
managing *just* fine -- " As her voice rose, she cut herself off. 
"I'm sorry. We don't need to get into this."

"The hell we don't," Mulder whispered.

Dana felt almost panicky. Why am I acting like this? she 
wondered, even as she answered, "Mulder, this isn't the time. 
It's Christmas Eve and if we raise our voices we're going to 
wake Becca."

He stared at her for a long moment, and then stalked away 
toward the hall. Scully sighed, glad she'd managed to avoid 
that confrontation -- when suddenly his hand closed, hard, 
around her arm. "What the -- "

Fox had thrown his winter coat over his clothes, and was 
holding out her parka in his other hand. "Better put it on, 
if you don't want to freeze," he muttered; then he began 
towing her toward the back door -- the only time he
had ever used anything resembling physical force with her. 
Half in shock, Dana began struggling into the coat as they 
went outside, into the bitingly cold night.

"What the hell has gotten into you?" she hissed as he 
shut the back door behind them.

"Scully, we can't keep going on like this. We're not 
getting any closer -- we're growing further apart! Just 
sitting back and being polite isn't going to change how 
we feel." Mulder's eyes were wide with pleading. "Don't 
you see that?"

Dana stood there for a couple of seconds, breathing 
hard with anger. But she forced herself to remain calm. 
"Mulder -- I don't want to do this."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to hurt you!" 

"THIS is what's hurting me, Scully! Stop being careful! 
Stop taking care of me for one goddamn second -- "

"You want me to stop taking care of you?" she cried. 
"I'd like to know just how long you'd last if I -- NO. 
I'm not going to do this -- " Dana stalked away from him, 
walking away from the house, towards the ice-dark ocean.

Mulder ran after her, grabbing her arms as her whirled 
her back to face him. "Yes. Yes, you are. Damn it, Scully, 
LET ME HAVE IT. I deserve it, we both know it, just let it 
go! You need this as much as I do!"

"I need this? *I* need this? Who are you to tell me what 
I need?" Scully yelled, temper snapping at last. She threw 
his hands off her arms and pushed him away from her savagely. 
"You didn't seem to give a damn what I needed when you ran off 
and left me! Without one word, Mulder, not even one word!" 
She pushed him again, hands hard against his chest. He stumbled
backwards, but made no move to protect himself or to speak.

"I needed *you,* Mulder, when you weren't there! When I 
was morning sick and had to listen to my students laughing at 
me behind my back -- I got pregnant so my lover ran off -- 
don't you realize how they laughed at me? How awful that was? 
I had to hold my head up before all of those people, and I had
to tell myself that I DIDN'T NEED YOU. And damnit, I don't. 
I don't!" She shoved him yet again, her anger only feeding upon 
itself, getting stronger.

"Don't you see what I did on my own? I had to take care 
of Rebecca! I had to take care of Samantha! None of it was easy 
but I managed it all; I even got you back! I nearly got killed 
trying to save you, Mulder! I've HAD to take care of you, take 
care of everything; I can handle it! I can handle ALL of it!" 
She slammed her palms into his chest again, this time knocking him
completely off balance; Fox tumbled backwards into the sand. 
Dana gasped and pulled her hands back suddenly, shocked at 
her outburst.

Mulder sat before her on the ground; to her surprise, 
in the faint moonlight she could actually see a faint smile 
on his face. "I know, Scully. You've handled it all. More than 
anybody should ever have to handle. And you've done it all 
on your own. But you don't have to do it any longer," he
whispered.

Scully hugged herself, feeling tears well up in her eyes. 
She tried to tell herself it was just the stinging winter breeze, 
and looked down at her feet.

His low voice continued, "Scully, I should have told you 
I was going. It was a mistake to keep it from you -- the biggest 
mistake I ever made in my life. From the bottom of my soul, 
I apologize."

"You've said you were sorry before, Mulder; you always 
turned around and kept me in the dark again -- "

"I know. I always thought I was strong enough to take 
on the world on my own. That there wasn't anything I couldn't 
handle. I shut you out to fight my battles alone -- and 
found out that I couldn't do it myself. Learned for 
the first time, truly, how much I needed you." Fox felt 
his throat closing up, made himself keep going. "God, Dana, 
there wasn't one night, one moment of those two years that 
I didn't dream of you. Long for you. No matter how horrible 
it was, I -- just the thought of you could sustain me. Your
courage, your love -- *they're* my truest strength, Scully."

Dana finally looked into his eyes; tears were streaming 
down her cheeks as she stared down at him. Mulder swallowed 
hard. "Don't make the same mistake I did. Don't shut me away 
because you think you can handle this all by yourself. You're 
braver than I ever was but -- we're always stronger together 
than alone."

Through her sobs, Scully choked out, "After everything 
that's happened, I'm supposed to believe that you've come 
back to rescue me? That from now on, you'll stand between 
me and my troubles, protect me from harm?"

He shook his head. "No. I can't promise to do that. 
But I can promise to stand by your side."

She put her hands over her face and wept; after a moment, 
Fox pulled himself onto his knees and embraced her around 
the waist, pressing the side of his face into her belly. 
"I'm so sorry that this is what it took for me to learn, 
Scully," he whispered. "Can you forgive me?"

"Oh, Mulder," Dana answered, letting her hands drop to 
stroke his dark hair, his shoulders. "I can if you'll 
forgive me -- I've been shutting you off from Becca, 
from me -- "

He leaned back from her to shake his head, "Don't blame 
yourself. There's been enough of that around here. It's over 
now -- " Fox murmured.

Scully let one of her hands drift to brush against his lips 
as he spoke; when her fingertips touched his mouth, Mulder 
kissed them each. He felt her shiver at the touch, felt 
his own heart leap.

Dana dropped to her own knees to face him. They looked 
into each other's eyes for one moment -- only as long as it 
took to bring their mouths together. She wound her arms around 
him as they kissed, tongues intertwining -- let him tilt her 
body back until she was dizzy, off-balance. Fox allowed his lips
to wander from her mouth to touch her cheeks, her forehead, 
her damp eyelashes. "I've missed you so," she whispered, 
running her hands down his back to press his body even closer 
to her.

"Can you be a little more specific?" he said -- she could 
hear the smile in his voice.

"Umm-hmm. I missed *this* -- " Scully tugged the coat 
off her shoulders to let it drop behind her; the chill of 
the night air was like a blessing against her glowing skin. 
She took Fox's hand in her own, guided it to her breast -- 
they both gasped as he cupped his palm against her. "Ohh -- 
and I missed this -- " Dana pushed her hand through 
the folds of his coat to run her fingers down his chest, 
to the waistband of his jeans; he shuddered as she closed 
her hand around the fabric, pulled him close again.

Mulder claimed her mouth again in a deeper, stronger kiss; 
despite the incredible chill in the air, it took every fiber 
of his self-control to stop himself from taking her right there 
in the sand. When finally he pulled himself away for a moment, 
he was panting for breath, shaking with desire -- yet still 
unable to speak the words to ask her to go inside with him.

Scully sensed his reluctance and smiled. "Let's go 
inside -- Fox."

She *only* used his first name in bed.

"Oh, God -- " he looked back up at the house; she'd run 
further than he'd thought during their earlier fight. 
Their home, and the bedroom within it, seemed MUCH too 
far away. "Want to race?"

"Save your strength. You're going to need it."


Samantha woke from her shallow sleep as the back door slammed; 
she sat up groggily, wondering if something had gone wrong with 
the Christmas plans.

Then she heard Dana moan in a register she'd never heard from 
her before -- then heard Fox whisper something to her, his voice 
lower, rougher than usual. 

"Oh, my," Sammie whispered, grinning widely in the dark. 
Despite her own relative innocence in such matters, TV and movies 
had taught her enough to realize what was going on. As Sam heard 
the stumbling footsteps on the stairs, she set her own alarm 
clock for 5 a.m. I'd better wake up Rebecca myself first
thing in the morning, she decided. Otherwise, she'll run into 
her mom's room and get an early education. Or interrupt something. 
God knows those two need to make up for lost time.


It wasn't, technically speaking, an impressive performance; 
they were both too wild with desire to make it last long. 
The subtler, gentler aspects of sensuality were lost to the 
blinding need to unite, to recapture the closeness that made 
the rest of the world disappear. Yet during those few minutes 
Dana felt bliss such as she had never known. They were wrapped
around one another, weeping, moving together ever so gently in the 
night -- bound together as if in one skin.

Never again to be apart.

***


"Big Bird not talking," Rebecca complained, from within her 
nest of wrapping paper and ribbon. 

"I'm sorry, honey; maybe Santa was a little rough with him 
last night," Mulder explained, taking the broken toy in his hands 
for examination.

"Big Bird's not the only one," Scully whispered, stroking his 
back. Fox shivered, but made himself concentrate on the chore at 
hand.

Nearby, Samantha was whirling around, admiring herself 
in the mirror. "This silk jacket is *exactly* what I wanted, 
Dana. Thanks."

"The color's okay?"

"Red's my favorite; you know that! In fact, I'm going to 
wear it to the airport today." Sam tucked her hair up in her 
barrette and smiled down at Rebecca. "You want to come with me 
to the airport to get Grandma and Uncle Bill and Aunt Melissa?" 
The tiny girl nodded her head, auburn curls shaking.

"Honey, you don't have to do that -- I'd told Mom I would 
come out to meet them -- " Dana began.

"No way. I've had my license for six months now and you 
almost *never* let me drive. Why, I could *almost* assume 
you don't trust me." Sam cocked an eyebrow at Scully.

Dana was ready to argue the point, then caught Mulder's eye 
and relaxed. "That would be great, Sam. Thanks."

Samantha found Becca's jacket and pulled it over the eager 
little girl's shoulders; Rebecca loved going for a ride. On their 
way out the door, Sammie leaned over and kissed Fox goodbye. "We 
probably won't be back for a couple of hours," she said.

"Okay," he agreed, keeping his voice regular. Perfect, he 
thought.

She kissed Dana too, then whispered, "You left your coat on 
the beach." 

"Oh! Umm, thanks." Scully put her hand over her mouth, 
and Samantha laughed all the way through the hall as she watched 
Dana's face. 

"And I thought this coat was red," Sam giggled, as she closed 
the door behind them.

Dana and Fox stared at each other, open-mouthed, for a long 
second before collapsing in laughter. "Oh, God -- just when I 
start treating her like a child -- " Scully gasped.

"I have to hand it to her; she's very perceptive. I was 
hoping for a little more time alone with you," Mulder sighed, 
pulling her back onto the sofa beside him.

"Same here," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Mulder shook his head, "Not so fast, you wanton creature."

"Wanton?"

"Don't misunderstand; I *like* wanton. There's just something 
I want to do first." Fox shifted out of her embrace and went to 
the fireplace; Dana recognized the hastily wrapped little package 
as something Mulder had slipped off to fetch earlier in the morning.

"You're giving me one of my presents late?" she asked, raising 
one eyebrow as she held out her hands.

"You could say that; it's a hell of a lot later than I'd 
planned to give it to you. But maybe I'm still rushing things. 
You tell me," Mulder placed the awkwardly wrapped lump in her 
outstretched palm.

Heart thumping in her chest, Dana peeled back the paper and 
drew in her breath; she recognized the grey velvet box she'd thrown 
in the cedar chest a year and a half ago.

As she sat there, staring at it, Fox said quietly, "Don't 
ignore the paper." Scully realized the wrapping was the note 
she'd found so long ago, now slightly yellowed; she could still 
read the tear-blurred words there: "Dana, if you've been snooping, 
or for some reason want to wear my shoes, you've spoiled your 
Christmas. I had a big formal performance planned for your entire 
family, but if you've found this ahead of time -- I love you. 
Will you marry me?"

Beneath those words, in newer, blacker ink, it said, "Better 
late than never?"

He'd just written that. Why then were those words blurry 
too? Scully realized that tears were welling up in her eyes; 
Mulder reached up with his thumb to brush them away. "I meant 
it then, and I mean it now, Dana. If anything, I love you even 
more. Do you think we're ready?"

Scully laughed. "Our daughter's almost two. We ought to 
be close."

Fox smiled, but his eyes remained serious. "No joking 
around, Scully. That was your rule, remember? I don't want 
convention or others' opinions to have anything to do with this. 
Now, if tradition's important -- " Mulder dropped to his knees 
on the sofa in front of her, making her laugh again through 
fresh tears. 

"Don't -- it couldn't be any more perfect than this," 
Dana whispered, reaching out to take his face in her hands. 
They kissed once, briefly, before she leaned back to open 
the box, to let him ease the ring around her finger.

Then Scully slid down from the sofa to take him 
in her arms; after a few moments, Mulder lowered her to 
the floor by the hearth -- the same place he had first 
made love to her three years ago. He began caressing her 
again, his memories melding with her passionate response 
to bring them together once more in perfect harmony. 
In complete renewal.

***

THE END