Title: Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep
Author: Alanna <alanna@ibm.net>
DISCLAIMER: The characters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully
belong to Fox Broadcasting and 1013 Productions. The
Bartlett family and the situations into which I have placed all
the characters are of my own creation.
RATING: PG-13
CLASSIFICATIONS: XRA -- heavy on the A.
SPOILERS: Mytharc up to and including "Emily". 

SUMMARY: Letting go.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Richardson, Texas
January 4, 1998

"I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Bartlett. At this point, I really don't know
of anything else that we can do to help Crystal." 

The doctor's voice infuriated Rebecca Bartlett. How DARE this
man give up on her precious baby girl so easily? She looked
over at her husband, cradling their three-year-old daughter in
her hospital bed and trying not to get tangled up in the maze of
feeding tubes and respirators. Crystal was so tiny and frail,
miles away from preschooler who would jump around the room
and race her friends to the swingset. And this awful disease
was eating away her little body.

Becky stared at the ridiculous doctor with barely-veiled hatred. He
just cowered at her gaze. Becky was young -- 22 years old -- but
teenage parenthood and the past three months of their daughter's
illness had taught her everything she could ever need to know about
responsibility and faith. So she sent a prayer of release up to her
God as her husband, Clay, shook Dr. Williams' hand and said thank you
for all of his help. 

Help? What help? What help had Dr. Williams ever given,
aside from helping her little Sunshine to die? May he rot in hell for
*helping* to take away their Crystal. 

The door shut behind him, and she moved her oh-so-tired body
onto the hospital bed, curling up next to her husband and child
for their last night as a threesome. And they helped Crystal
say her prayers.

"Now I lay me down to sleep.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take."

Their little girl drifted off to sleep in their arms as Becky and Clay
Bartlett smothered their tears.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Early-morning sunlight drifted through the miniblinds of the
semi-private hospital room, and filtered through the sheer
curtain surrounding the bed. 

Becky Bartlett stretched out as quietly as she could, bringing
one leg back up to the bed from where it had dangled over the
edge, and squinted her eyes against the dim sunlight's
assault. 

She remembered the night before -- holding her baby as
Crystal drifted off into sleep bathed in a cold sweat, her body
collapsing under the weight of that bizarre cancer. And she
remembered Dr. Williams' words. 

"I really don't know of anything else that we can do to help
Crystal." 

Bastard. She had been raised as a good God-fearing
Christian, yet calling that man names made her feel so much
better, because in her delusion born of grief, that horrible man
was killing her daughter, and she and Clay couldn't bear the
idea of not having their little Sunshine. Becky scrunched her
eyes shut, blotting out the pain. If she had to open her eyes
and find her little Crystal gone, she'd rather not wake up at all.
Ever again.

And then she heard the noises. Something was wrong. 
Something was very wrong. 

Unable to bear the suspense any longer, she opened her eyes. 

And there was Crystal, still covered with wires but sitting up in her
bed and playing with the edge of the privacy curtain, a strange little
childish game of peekaboo. 

As Becky Bartlett's heartrate slowly returned to normal, her
little Sunshine smiled radiantly at her, her curly golden hair a
halo in the sunlight. And her tiny voice cried out:

"Guess what, Mommy? I said my prayers and Baby Jesus
came and made me well again!"

~*~*~*~*~*~

Annapolis, MD
January 7, 1998

The beige Taurus pulled up to the apartment building with a
hush, its tires skidding slightly on the thin coating of ice on the
pavement. All the curtains and blinds of the building were drawn,
giving it an air of emptiness, of lifelessness. The sky was black,
completing the mood.

A man stepped out of the car first, his tall body covered in a
thick wool overcoat which hadn't seen much use of late,
judging from the creases stubbornly staying in the fabric. As
he walked around to the trunk and took out a suitcase, a
woman got out of the car and stood next to the curb. Her
normally vibrant hair was dulled by fatigue and lack of care,
and her strong body was tiny inside her beige trenchcoat. The
man put his arm around the woman's waist and they walked up
to the entrance of the building. 

"I think I left my parka here and I'll probably need it tomorrow, what
with the forecast saying snow." The excuse was lame, Mulder and
Scully both knew, but she knew that even though so many fences had
been torn down in their lives over the past few months, his chivalry
demanded a reason -- however ridiculous -- to keep from leaving her
alone. She gave him silent thanks for that and ushered him into her
apartment.

Scully hauled her suitcase into her bedroom, resisting his
offers of help. She needed to show him (and herself) that she
was fully capable of functioning on her own, even though she
needed him more than she would ever admit. Bustling noises
from the living room accompanied her slow unpacking, each
article of clothing being put back into its rightful place. 

And then she saw Fuzzy.

Fuzzy the Bear was a stuffed animal Emily had kept with her
in the hospital, always crooked under one small arm. As far
as teddy bears went he was fairly average, yet Emily had loved
him with a singular passion. Even as the only family she had
ever known disappeared around her, the little girl had shown no
emotion, choosing instead to shower all those feelings on a 9"
bit of fake fur and stuffing. And as the life had breathed out of her
tiny body, Emily lay on her hospital bed with the new mother and
father she did not know by that name, and Fuzzy the bear clutched to
her chest. 

Nobody had claimed Fuzzy after Emily's death. Nobody had
really even claimed Emily. For a child with playfriends and
doctors monitoring her every heartbeat, Scully had been
shocked at how few people had seemed to care about her
passing -- nobody but these two strangers who had become
the toddler's spiritual (and, for Scully, biological) parents in the
last few days of her life. Scully had known she should bury Emily
with her teddy bear, yet she simply hadn't been able to do it. 
Instead, Fuzzy had remained in the deep pocket of Scully's overcoat
until he had found his way tucked down in the bottom of her suitcase,
as a painful memento of her little girl. 

Now Scully had brought Fuzzy back home. Back to her home,
but not her daughter's. She ran her fingers over the bear's cold
black plastic eyes, and wanted to rip each one out with her bare
fingers. But instead, she merely picked up the bear under its arms --
as Mulder had cuddled her baby girl -- and placed it on her bedside
table. She suddenly couldn't bear the sterility of her bedroom so
she walked into her living room, where Mulder was sitting on her sofa,
staring off into the middle distance.

She walked over and stood behind him, admiring the strength
of the muscles of his neck and shoulders -- the neck and
shoulders which would bear the burdens of the world if only
they could. Though her hands remained at her side, Scully
could almost feel his skin under her fingertips. She knew
exactly what it would feel like -- warm and smooth. Perhaps a
little fuzzy.

Scully felt ill. She felt like she needed so much, but didn't
know where to begin to list those needs. But she did know
that she needed his comfort. Needed to feel him near her,
whispering soft words of solace into her ear, his strong arms
wrapped around her soothing her pain. She needed to know
that he was there for her, because she felt so incredibly alone,
and it hurt. God, it hurt.

And so she took a step toward him, softly laying her hand on
his shoulder. All her need for him turned into
self-consciousness and awkwardness. He turned toward her
with a start, pain etched into his face. But he had dealt with
pain of his whole life and learned to manage it. She had not. 
She might never learn. She wanted to ignore the pain,
because ignorance was easier than being torn apart at the
seams.

Mulder stood self-consciously, then asked in a hoarse voice,
"Will you be all right?" 

"Yeah, I think so. Thanks for dropping me off. Did you get the
parka?"

He nodded his head, holding up a shapeless mass of navy
Gore-Tex. Mulder took a short step toward the doorway, then
stopped and turned his body toward her, almost holding out a
hand. 

"If you need anything, Scully -- ANYthing -- just call me, okay? I can
stay if you need me to, as long as you need me to...." 

Mulder couldn't hide the entreaties lurking beneath the surface
of his words. But she couldn't deal with subtext right now. Not
while Fuzzy was laying on her bedside table and her heart was
threatening to break from unshed tears and her sublimated neediness.

"I'll be fine, Mulder." She wished she could be convinced of
that herself.

He stared at her then, and she watched his brow furrow, not
believing her words for a minute. Though they were no longer
touching each other, she felt the slight shudder moving through
his body and the slow rise and fall of his chest with his sigh. 

And she saw just how much he cared.

On some level, she had always known that he loved her and
worried about her, yet this was altogether different. This was
his taking her concerns into him -- allowing them to be part of
his own soul. Scully felt herself being absorbed by him,
merging with him, which surprised her because their oneness
had always been there. Why on earth was she not accepting
it?

Because of a dead little girl.

She took that moment to look at him, to *really* look at him. 
To see the beauty of his dear face, with earthy eyes, strong
bones, and a determined chin. And lips which could thrill her
when they wrapped themselves around her name and words
meant for her alone. But each cell of that face was soaked in
pain. Not the pain he had lived with for twenty-five years, but
her pain. He was taking it all on himself. And God, she loved
him for it. 

She loved that he wanted to save her.

But she couldn't let him do that. She cared too much to allow
that of him. Because right now, she felt beyond salvation and
couldn't add to his burden of pain, no matter how much he --
they -- might want it.

Scully moved toward the door and Mulder followed. Before she
could talk herself out of it, she allowed herself to be pulled into
his hug, a hug of comfort. His embrace was so warm, so soothing, but
so invigorating. His touch tingled through her body. And though it
was a hug of comfort, it turned on a dime into so much more. 

His hand moved over her back, up and down with a slight
pressure. His other hand cupped her cheek, tilting her face up
toward him. His eyes held a question, to which she assented. 
But he didn't kiss her lips. Instead, whispered her name in her
ear -- softly, so softly -- and then began to brush his lips all
over her face. The pressure of his kisses were like puffs of air on
her skin. Over her eyelids, against her cheekbones, on the tip of her
nose. Everywhere but her lips. 

She knew the proper biological term was "sensory overload",
but she simply felt like she was flying away. Scully leaned
into him, nuzzling his lips with her face. She allowed him to
lavish this attention on her, all the while saying her name over
and over again, the word whispering out of his mouth simply,
but with a heart full of love.

Suddenly, she flashed back on the image of her little girl, and
of all she had lost. And she remembered how Mulder would
take on other people's pain, and realized that this was his way
of taking on her pain. His way of sympathizing. And though
she loved it -- God, she loved it -- and though she loved him --
God, she loved him -- she couldn't allow this to happen. She
just couldn't. Because she would lose herself, their
partnership, and him. She had to deal with her pain herself,
not by giving it away to him.

As his lips brushed across her brow and his fingers threaded
through her hair, she stiffened in his arms and pulled away. 
And, as if it were coming from a different person, she heard her
voice say, "I think you should leave now."

Scully forced herself to look up into his eyes. The look of
resigned acceptance of her rejection and betrayal shattered her
heart into a million pieces. But she couldn't back down. She
couldn't succumb to the weakness. So she returned his gaze,
calmly and quietly.

Mulder turned heel and left.

And Scully collapsed against the closed door, breaking at last.

~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter Two.
~*~*~*~*~*~

Washington, D.C.
February 11, 1998

A month passed.

The kisses were never spoken of again.

Scully withdrew further and further within herself, and it
scared the hell out of Mulder. Everything scared the hell
out of him these days. Everything she said and did, that
is. Otherwise, his life was just fine -- work was fine, his
health was fine, but emotionally he was ruined because
Scully wasn't fine. And because she had rejected him.

She barely spoke to him anymore. Oh, she would speak
to him as usual, but she never *talked* with him. 
Everything these days had to do with their cases -- what
types of evidence they had uncovered, what personal
history the suspect had which might have caused him to
commit the crimes, who would fill out the official
summaries and turn in the expense reports. They had
been out of town twice in January on business, and after
each day's work, she retired to her hotel room, hardly
bothering to eat or even talk to him.

They were still partners, but they had become strangers. 

For the first time in his life, Mulder hadn't a clue what he
should -- or could -- do. She was slipping out of his life --
and her own -- and that terrified him more than anything
else could. He only knew that he needed her back so
much it hurt. It kept him awake at night, tiny pinpricks of
need smothering his body. And when he did sleep, his
dreams were haunted by visions of her pushing him away
and her voice saying, "I think you should leave." 

Last night had been another such night. After going to
bed early from a lack of anything to do which would take
his attention away from missing her, he tossed and turned
on his bed -- he'd given up the sofa a month ago, unable to
sleep on it and wanting to punish himself with his
long-neglected futon. Finally, he simply lay on his back,
very still. Afraid to move because if he could only fall into
stasis, he wouldn't hurt anymore. 

His hand lay on his belly, rising and falling as he breathed. 
Mulder began to inch it downward, needing to touch
himself, needing to replace his pain with exhilaration, even
if it were only temporary. He took his flaccid cock in his
hand, then slowly moved his hand down its length. Once,
then twice. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Only a vague
sense that even that wouldn't soothe him. 

So he burrowed down further under the covers, unable to
close his eyes, filled with a desperate need to hear her
voice. He glanced over at the clock. 2:18 A.M. Before he
realized it, the phone was in his hand and he was dialing
her number. Mulder didn't feel guilty about it, not even
when the phone approached the tenth ring. He needed it
too much for it to be tainted by guilt. He merely waited,
knowing that she would answer.

And then she did.

"Yeah?" 

"Scully." Nothing else, just her name. Just her beautiful
name.

"Mmm... hi, Mulder." He caught the nuances of her voice. 
She was trying to sound groggy and half-awake, but he
could sense she'd also been lying in bed, unable to sleep. 
He just knew.

"You awake?"

"No, you woke me up." He allowed her her white lie. 
Mulder knew how much she needed it. 

And then his heart took over, controlling his words. "Um, 
I'll let you get back to sleep, then. I just wanted you to
know I miss you, and.... I miss you...." His voice trailed
off.

Silence.

Oh, God. 

"I know." Pause. "Thank you, Mulder." 

He somehow remembered to breathe. Just barely. And
he felt his heart slowly begin to beat again, and the feeling
slowly returning to his limbs, his soul. 

"Good night, Scully."

"Sweet dreams." And the dialtone clicked.

He fell into a sound sleep, with dreams of sunshine and of
a redhaired woman smiling at him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Two days later 

The phone rang, jarring Mulder out of his daydream.

"Mulder."

"Hey, Mulder, it's Langly." 

He was surprised to be hearing from Langly, the Gunman
voted Least Likely To Seek Out Mulder for Any Reason
Whatsoever. Mulder leaned back in his office chair, and
glanced over at Scully, who was busy sorting through
receipts and placing them in neat little stacks.

"Hi Langly, what's up?"

"Just stumbled across some information online which you
might find interesting. Is this a secured line?" 

Mulder didn't even have to think twice before saying, "We'll
be there in fifteen minutes."

He hung up the phone and grabbed his coat. 

"What was that, Mulder?"

He stopped next to her desk and looked down at her. 
Something in his demeanor must have touched Scully,
because for the first time in weeks her face showed some
genuine interest in what was happening in that office. 
Since his nighttime confession two nights ago, she had
warmed to him, but he still worried he was speaking into
the wind. Still, even though he knew he should probably
be mortally wounded by her apparent indifference to what
he had told her, he couldn't be. She knew. She had said
that she knew. And though she hadn't told him that she
loved him in return, Scully knowing that he loved her was
enough for the time being. 

And as she looked up at him with a question written on
her face, he began to suspect that she loved him. 

Mulder reached down and gently nudged her shoulder. As
she stood, he grabbed her hand and said, "Get your coat. 
The Gunmen are expecting us."

"What?" 

"I'll explain on the way."

~*~*~*~*~*~

The Taurus twisted and turned through the neglected
back-streets of an anonymous warehouse district, toward
the supposedly top-secret location of the Gunmen's office. 
Mulder had promised to explain the situation to Scully
once they hit the road, but he suddenly felt extremely shy. 
And worried.

Right after they had returned from San Diego -- the day
after The Kiss -- Mulder had arrived at the Magic Bullet's
office, not a little hung over and depressed. He pulled out
the notes he had taken as they had watched Emily pass
away (the memory made him wince) and gave them to the
Gunmen, who copied them down carefully, with
instructions to scour the Internet and CDC/NIH databases
on a regular basis to see if the drug combinations and
treatment methods used on Emily showed up in any other
medical cases.

And now, Langly had found something.

Mulder recounted the meeting to Scully, choosing each
word carefully and using the most neutral terms possible,
for fear of opening fresh wounds that still had not healed
since her daughter's death. When he finished explaining,
she wasn't silent and impassive like he had feared, but
rather curious and touched. As they pulled the car up to a
curb down the street from the office and prepared to
navigate the alleys to the entrance, Scully reached over
and lightly held his hand. 

"Thank you, Mulder."

His heart soared.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Five minutes later, she was seated next to Langly while
Mulder peered over his shoulder at a document on a
computer screen. Langly began to explain.

"I almost didn't find this -- took me forever to hack into this
part of the Centers for Disease Control's mainframe."

"Tell us what this is." Scully didn't bother to hide her
anxiety.

"Okay. Apparently, a Dr. Kenneth Williams in
Richardson, Texas, contacted Barbara Warren at the CDC
about three weeks ago, seeking her advice on a patient of
his, a three-year-old little girl named Crystal Bartlett."

Three years old.... Oh, Lord.

"The girl had this strange disease he had never seen. 
Something about an anaerobic mass which resembled an
organism and spread through her nervous system, leaving
her with hours left to live. In an e-mail later that day,
Warren asked him to write it up and submit the medical
report as a possible new contagion, but two days later, Dr.
Williams wrote back saying that the mass had
mysteriously vanished without a trace, and that Crystal
had been able to walk out of the hospital that morning,
apparently unaffected." 

Mulder's hand rested on her shoulder as Scully turned and
looked at him, shock and tears mixing on her face.

And he knew she had returned to him when she said,
excitement layering her voice, "Could you go by my
apartment and get my overnight bag? I'll stay here with
Langly and get all the information we need, then I'll book
our tickets and call Skinner."

He leaned down and took her hand, squeezing it tightly,
reassuringly. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Wait here
for me."

"I'll be waiting for you."

And then he saw her smile at him as he fled the offices, to
get them ready to go find Crystal Bartlett.

Another Emily.

~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter Three
~*~*~*~*~*~

The car began to slow down on a quiet residential street. It
was late Friday afternoon, and though it was still February,
the Texas sunshine was out in abundance and some
children were playing in the front yards. During the drive to
the Bartlett house, the scenery passed before Scully in a
blur. She hardly noticed the parade of houses, trees, and
parked cars, as focused as she was on her destination. 
When she didn't know how much longer they had until they
reached the Bartletts' home, every second had felt like the
countdown to an explosion. 

Now that they were almost there, the tension threatened to
overwhelm her. 

She didn't really expect "another Emily", as Mulder did. 
But she did feel that what had happened to this child would
answer some of her questions about her own little girl, or at
least help to clarify the questions she had already asked. 

Mulder slowed down and pulled up in front of a tiny
red-brick house with white shutters and a neatly-trimmed
front lawn, the grass still brown from the cool winter. The
single-car garage was empty, and a plastic Big Wheel
tricycle lurked just inside. And an old-fashioned bench
swing, littered with toys, hung from the porch roof. 

Scully stared at a fuzzy teddy bear lying on its side on the
bench swing. It was gray and well-loved, one of its black
button eyes hanging by a thread. 

She blinked away a film of moisture, steeling her jaw. Just
because this little girl had the same symptoms as Emily
didn't mean that it was the same disease. Just because
this little girl was well again didn't mean that she held the
answers to what had happened to Emily. Just because
Crystal Bartlett was born around the same time as was
Emily didn't mean they were part of the same "family". 
Just because Crystal Bartlett appeared to share some
similarities to Emily didn't mean that she was also Dana
Scully's daughter. 

Mulder killed the engine. Scully sensed his hesitation, felt
the tension flowing through the distance between them. 
Somehow, his apprehension made her angry--why was he
doing this? Why did he allow himself to be tortured over
what was *her* nightmare? 

Yes, Scully had to know. Had to see for herself. 
Demanded proof. Needed it, more than she could ever
admit. But Mulder didn't. This wasn't his cross to bear, for
once. But typical of Mulder, he was trying to take it off her
back and bear it anyway. He wouldn't allow her to mourn
and adjust the way she wanted. He began to get out of the
car and reach in his pocket for his badge.

She pinned him with an intense stare. "This isn't an X-File,
Mulder."

His jaw gave a little twitch. "Then why are we here?"

Bastard. He knew why they were there. He just wanted
her to say it aloud. "Because I have to know."

"So do I."

"No, you don't." She gave a shake of her head. "This has
nothing to do with you, Mulder. I appreciate your coming
along, but--" She stopped as he turned his face away,
staring forward through the windshield of the rental car. His
expression was stony, but she knew him well enough to
know pain when she saw it. 

She shut her eyes and turned her face away, too. She
wanted to protect him from her pain, but he wouldn't let her. 
Shutting him out wasn't doing anything but hurting him
more.

"I'll stay here if you want." His voice was low and tight.

She turned to look at him, trying to find words to tell him
what was happening to her, the way that, for the first time
in her life, she felt herself slowly disintegrating, hour by
hour, like a pillar of salt. But she couldn't tell him. She
couldn't allow herself to say it aloud, because to say it was
to give it substance, and to give it substance was to give it
power. 

"No, you should come," she said instead, her voice cold
and distant because that's the only way she could sound
right now. She hated the sound of it, and she hated what
she saw the coolness do to Mulder, but she couldn't
change things. 

She couldn't change anything, no matter how much she
wanted to.

They had decided to first approach the Bartletts and
explain the situation, then request permission to obtain
Crystal's medical records from Dr. Williams. Mulder had
even had one of the legal aides at the Bureau draw up a
permission form and e-mail it to them, which Scully had
printed out on the plane in preparation for their visit. The
Bartletts hadn't returned any of the phone calls Scully had
made, so they were entering this situation blindly. Scully
had never before been so nervous about approaching a
house -- the thought vaguely amused her, which helped to
quell the butterflies in her stomach. And yet, as they
made their way up the front walk, she found herself close
to wringing her hands. Instead, she forced herself to ball
them up into tiny fists and keep them at her side. 

Mulder rang the doorbell. Scully unclenched her fists, then
clenched them again, grateful for the lack of windows within
easy eyeshot of the front door. The temptation would have
been too much to resist, and she didn't really want to
attract attention -- not yet. 

After three attempts at the doorbell, Mulder gave up and
turned around to face her. 

"So, what do you want to do now, Scully, hang around or
go see Dr. Williams?"

She felt oddly grateful for the reprieve, even as frantic as
she was to meet this family. But before she could choose
a course of action, a voice rang out from the next-door
yard.

"Hey there! Y'all looking for Becky and Clay?"

A woman was standing on her front porch, along with a
young girl -- perhaps eight or nine years old -- in
rollerblades. They stared at Mulder and Scully, who in turn
stood up straight and approached her.

"Um, yes," Scully began, "We're looking for the Bartletts." 

"What for?" the youngish blonde woman interrupted.

Scully took another deep breath, but before she could find
a noncommittal way to explain their interest, Mulder spoke
up.

"We're with the government. We're doing research on a
new disease and we wanted to ask them some questions
about their daughter." 

She turned around and glanced at Mulder, who raised his
eyebrows slightly to acknowledge his lie, and despite her
anger toward him, she was suddenly overwhelmed with
gratitude that he was there with her, to support her. But
she couldn't smile at him -- not yet -- because she couldn't
let him believe that she was better when she still felt like
every bit of her emotional reserve was wasting away.

"Oh, you must mean Crystal, right? She's a cutie. I felt
awful when she was taken away to the hospital like that a
few months ago, but I'm real glad she got better. That was
a miracle if I ever saw one." Scully took a step forward,
drawn to this woman's words like a moth to light. "She and
my little boy, Cody, like to play together." 

Scully opened her mouth to speak, to ask a question, to
say *something* to get past this whirlwind of emotion, but
all she could say was, "Oh?"

"Oh, sure. She's a little sweetheart. Oops, I'm sorry! I
haven't even introduced myself!" The woman stepped
forward and crossed the driveway, extending her hand. The
girl with her rolled her eyes and skated away. Mulder
ventured down the steps to meet her. "I'm Vickie
Stedman, and that was my daughter, Kayla. We've lived
here for a few years, since before Becky and Clay moved in
last summer." 

Scully simply stood, mute, as Mulder made all the
appropriate, "Oh, really?"'s, encouraging the woman to
continue. She felt like an outsider, an onlooker, in this
domestic scene. And she felt a leap of fury force its way
through her throat into her face -- fury that Mulder was
stepping in and taking over. Asking the questions and
endearing himself to the witness as she stood idly by. But
she couldn't act. She couldn't say a word. She was too
afraid, though she could never admit it, even to herself.

And so she stood and listened as Vickie Stedman told
them all about Becky and Clay and Crystal, though most of
her chatter was about her little boy and the preschool the
kids attended. 

"Oh, Crystal's real bright, always sharing her toys with
Cody. And when they're playing outside, she's a real
fireball. She even looks like one, what with that red hair of
hers." 

Oh, God. Mulder turned to look at Scully just as she
began to catch her breath. Red hair. Her fingers reflexively
flew to her head and tucked her own red hair behind one
ear. As she and Mulder stared at each other, they heard
the low rumblings of a car pulling into the driveway, and
Vickie's voice calling out...

"Oh, look, here's Clay now."

They turned to watch the beat-up gray Hyundai inch its
way up the driveway, carrying a none-too-amused driver. 
Scully stepped forward to meet him as he got out of the car
-- she needed to take the initiative noww, as a way of
reasserting her strength and role in the situation. 

"Mr. Bartlett?"

"Yes?" His voice dripped suspicion. Clay Bartlett looked
barely older than eighteen, though their research showed
that he was, in fact, twenty-four. His strawberry-blond hair
was longish in back, and he sported frayed jeans, a
NASCAR t-shirt, and a Marlboro gimme cap. But the way
he carried himself -- tall and proud -- suggested a man who
was very conscious of dignity and responsibility. 

She chose each word carefully, all the while noting the
awkwardness of their all standing in his driveway, and
watching Vickie suddenly become shy and skulk back
toward her house. 

"Mr. Bartlett, my name is Agent Scully and this," she
gestured toward her partner, "is Agent Mulder and we're
from the F.B.I. We've been investigating a mysterious
disease infecting young children, and we learned that your
daughter was recently ill with something resembling that
disease. We were wondering --"

"Who told you?" Clay's voice was firm and blunt.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I know who you two are. I got your messages on our
answering machine. Who told you about Crystal? Dr.
Williams said he wasn't going to tell anything. He said it
was confidential."

The conversation suddenly became exponentially more
difficult. She took another deep breath, but Mulder
interjected, once again cutting her off and taking over for
her. She stifled her irritation, concentrating instead on
what they were saying to Clay.

"Dr. Williams didn't say anything, I can assure you." 
Mulder's voice was calm and soothing -- it even began to
soothe her. "We found the information while searching
through the Internet. We'd like you and your wife's
permission to obtain a copy of Crystal's file from Dr.
Williams, so we might use it in our research."

The lies flowed from Mulder's lips like honey. He was too
good at this. Scully idly wondered if he had ever lied so
glibly to her, then thought back over their relationship. 
Yes, she admitted, he had in the past, but that time was
far in the past. Whatever tension they might be feeling
right now, she knew in her heart that he wouldn't lie to her
like that. They trusted and needed each other too much to
lie. But withholding the truth -- that was something they'd
become experts at doing. And she hated it.

Clay Bartlett shuffled his feet, then shoved his free hand in
his jeans pocket and pushed past them toward the front
door. As he began to mount the steps, he turned and
looked at them. "Look, Mr. Miller and Miss Scully -- I don't
know who you think you are, waiting for us at our *home*
like this, but I don't appreciate it at all. I don't give my
permission for you to plow through my daughter's files. 
Now, Becky and Crystal should be home any minute and
you're welcome to ask them, but I'll bet they say 'no'. As
far as we're concerned, the Good Lord stepped in and
healed our baby, and we don't much appreciate you folks
coming in and trying to take over what has already come
and gone. Now, if you'll please leave, I'd thank you."

And he was gone. They could only watch him slip inside
the house. Mulder turned to look at her.

"Okay, what should we do?" He walked up and put his
hand on her shoulder. 

"I'm really not sure, Mulder. Let's wait a few minutes and
see if we can catch Becky Bartlett and the little girl." And
so they began to slowly walk down the front driveway. 
Scully glanced behind her shoulder and saw Clay Bartlett
watching them through the front window, then closing the
drapes as he caught her eye. She turned around to face
forward again, her mind instead focusing on Mulder's hand
on her shoulder, squeezing softly as they walked. 

If she could just remove herself from this world -- if she
could just remove herself from all the pain in this world --
she could be happy. She could be perfectly content, even
blissfully so, with Mulder's hand on her shoulder for the rest
of her life. She would let him touch her in other places too,
and indulge herself with his own beautiful body. 

But she *was* in this world, filled with pain and fear and
unwelcome surprise. And she did suffer -- far more than
anyone in this world deserved. Mulder didn't deserve to join
in this suffering. He deserved better. Though she often
loathed his protective streak, she found herself desperately
needing her own. She needed to protect him from this pain
in her life, even as she wanted so much to bury herself in
his arms and let him place those same kisses on her brow
and tell her that he was there and that everything would be
okay.

Yet as long as the mystery of what had happened to her --
and what had happened to Emily -- was still out there, she
couldn't let that happen. She couldn't give her suffering to
him. So she tried to convince herself that the distance
they were feeling was all for the best. 

They stopped at the end of the driveway, next to the rental
car. She craned her head back to look at him, trying to
see which messages he would send with his eyes. 
Instead, he merely looked at her and put his other hand on
her other shoulder. 

And Becky and Crystal Bartlett chose that moment to pull
into the driveway, right in front of where Mulder and Scully
were standing. She took a step forward to meet them, but
Mulder whispered in her ear, "Hang on a sec -- let's let
them get out of the car."

Becky Bartlett was the opposite of her husband -- tiny and
blonde, but with a face that looked nearly twice as old as
her twenty-two years. Just like her husband, though, her
face showed a strength of character befitting her mature
demeanor. As she stepped out of the car, she threw a
pointed look at Mulder and Scully, then deliberately turned
around and walked to the passenger side of the car. 
Crystal was blocked from view by the carseat, but they
caught their first glimpse of the little girl as her mother
picked her up and shut the car door.

At that moment, Dana Scully's world stopped spinning. 
Time stood still. She gasped, "Oh, God," then collapsed --
shocked -- backward, taking a few wobbly steps then
falling hard into Mulder's solid, warm body.

Crystal Bartlett's tiny face was identical to that of Emily
Sim.

Scully's daughter.

~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter Four
~*~*~*~*~*~

The first time Mulder had seen Emily, he'd felt an incredible
bond with her. Just like that. He had felt a profound rush of
affection and warmth, all focused on this little girl and her
mother. Emily changed *everything* for him -- everything he'd
held dear. It scared the hell out of him, but it was a good kind of
fear. He'd felt as if he'd been given a family. Even the doctor at
the hospital assumed Emily and Scully were his. When Scully had
turned away from him to watch Emily die, his new family had dissolved
before his eyes. The dream snatched away.

But this time, Scully hadn't turned away from him. Even
though they were both still shocked by the sight of this little
girl in front of them, she had fallen into *his* arms. She had
turned to him for support. That filled him with a bittersweet
joy. 

He looked down at her. She hadn't fainted or lost her footing. 
She simply stood very still, breathing heavily, enveloped by his
arms. Mulder tightened his hold on her, steadying her, giving
her strength. 

She whispered, as if by reflex, "I'm fine, Mulder." 

He wouldn't accept that, but he didn't have the heart to rebut. 
So he just ran his fingers along her shoulders and whispered,
"I'm right here." 

She stood and pulled away, then took a step toward the
woman and child, who were standing still and watching them. 
Mulder's heart broke for his partner, whom he loved more than
life itself. He just wished she would believe it, and accept it
before it became too late and she was irrevocably steeped in
her aloneness.

Becky Bartlett stepped forward. "Ma'am, are you okay?"

The transformation that came over Becky's face was
surprising, even to Mulder. She walked toward them, reaching
out the hand which wasn't holding Crystal, and said, "Let me
get you some aspirin, or a glass of water, okay?" 

Scully began to protest, but Mulder put his hand on her
shoulder, pressing down firmly. 

"Thanks, Mrs. Bartlett. That would be a big help." 

She smiled slightly, then suggested they come up and sit on
the porch swing while she ran inside to get the pills. Mulder
the Investigator wanted to be invited inside the house, to get a
glimpse of the life this family lived. He knew that he and
Scully were still considered the enemy. Becky was helping
them out of simple hospitality, not appeasement. He also
knew that Scully needed to take this one small step at a time,
even though he also knew she was desperate to discover
everything, right then.

Becky opened the front door, still carrying Crystal on one hip,
and they heard her call out, "Clay, we're home!" She was
back with a bottle of Tylenol and a glass of water before Scully
and Mulder even reached the front steps, and she set them
down on the railing.

"I assume you've met my husband. Typical male, he's back
there working on his hot rod rather than offering to help me
out. Crystal, clean up your toys off the porch swing, so these
two people can sit down, okay?" And Becky gave them a
warning glance -- her look saying, "Don't try anything" -- before
heading back out to the car to begin retrieving groceries.

And then Mulder and Scully were with Crystal. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Mulder was amazed at how much she looked like Emily. He
could imagine what the resemblance was doing to Scully. He
looked over at her stoic face, then back at the little girl. 
Though Crystal had slightly curly strawberry blonde hair (which
conveniently matched Clay's own), the two faces were
identical, save for a smattering of freckles across Crystal's
nose. But unlike the quiet, shy Emily, Crystal was a bundle of
energy. She reached up to the porch swing and, nearly losing
her balance, pushed all the toys off the seat in one fell swoop,
then yelped when one hit her in the chest. And she began
giggling, her face lighting up like a ray of sunshine. 

As Mulder and Scully watched her with absolute intrigue, little
Crystal stood up straight in her overalls and sweater, and said
with all solemnity, "All done." She patted the swing with her
tiny little hand and chirped, "Can siddown now, 'kay?" 

And Fox William Mulder was in love.

His hand still around Scully's shoulder, he guided her over to
the swing and they sat down. Mulder stole a glance at her --
she stared at Crystal, her face a mask, but shock and
fascination lurking behind her eyes. He kept his arm around
her, unable to let go. In a way, he felt as if he were still
holding her up. Then she looked at him, and he realized that
he *was* her rock right then. 

His soul filled with love and gratitude.

And then Mulder felt a nudging around his leg. He looked
down into a tiny, familiar face, which burst into giggles and
said, "Mister, you're sitting on my Pox!"

He raised his hips up and discovered he had indeed been
sitting on a small lump of dark red -- a beanbag fox. Mulder
handed it over to Crystal.

"There you are, Ma'am." But just as her fingers grazed the fur,
he pulled it back, playing a silly little game of keep-away. He
put it behind his back, up in the air, down on the ground, with
Crystal all the while doing a crazy dance trying to grab it. 
Finally, he placed it in her hands and she snatched it, then
began petting it and cooing, "It's okay, baby Pox." 

Mulder chanced a glance over at Scully, and saw her gazing
at Crystal. Love made her radiant. She turned her head and
looked at him, and he forgot to breathe. He had seen her
looking gorgeous before, but the pure love in her eyes made
her simply beautiful and perfect. In the heady rush of joy
flooding through his veins, he hoped that that look in her eyes
was for him too. And as Crystal began patting his knee, he
drew Scully just a little bit closer.

"What's your name?" Crystal asked him, her eyes big, like it
was the most important question in the world. 

Mulder was definitely in love. 

He squeezed Scully's shoulder, then pointed at the stuffed
animal being hugged tightly by the little girl in front of him. 
"Fox, just like him. Fox Mulder. And this lady is Dana
Scully." 

Crystal beamed her sunshine smile, then held out a tiny hand
to him. He took it, enchanted. "Hi Pox," her little voice
chirped. Then she turned toward Scully and held out her
hand. "Hi, Miss Danasully." 

Mulder watched Scully take Crystal's hand, as if it were a
precious gift. All she could do was nod and smile, then her
voice said, quietly and gravely, "Hello, Crystal." 

Crystal begin to laugh once again and, with the silly
indignance of a three-year-old, yelled, "Hey, how'd you know?" 

But before Scully could answer, Becky Bartlett was once
again on the porch, staring at them. She reached out her
hand to Crystal, catching the little girl's free hand and gently
pulling her away from Scully. 

"Okay, Sunshine, it's time to go inside." She turned to Scully.
"Are you feeling better?" Scully could only nod. Then, with
false sincerity, Becky said, "Thank you for taking the time to
come out here and see us, but I'm afraid we can't help you. 
Crystal is completely well now, and we'd like to just put all this
behind us."

Mulder opened his mouth to argue, but Becky cut him off. "If
you have any questions, please speak with Dr. Williams, but
my husband and I have already discussed this after getting all
your phone messages, and we would appreciate you folks just
leaving us alone."

Before Mulder or Scully could say anything, the woman and
toddler had disappeared inside the house, locking the door
audibly and leaving a flustered and rather stunned pair of FBI
agents in their wake.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"I'm sorry, Scully. I know how much you want it, but I just
don't see how we can."

"Why the hell not?" Across the restaurant table, Scully's
eyes flashed fury at Mulder. "Oh, I know why not, but...." she
sighed deeply and her voice became quiet and plaintive. "But
Mulder, I have to know. I *have* to." 

Oh, God. How could he resist? 

After they had left the Bartletts', they'd found a hotel. When
he went to check in, Mulder had specifically requested
connecting rooms and managed to get the last pair. Though
she didn't open her door as they settled in, Mulder was able to
hear her sobbing. It broke his heart. 

They had been arguing all during dinner over what they should
do next. As he had watched Becky and Crystal disappear
inside her house, he knew that they couldn't break up this little
family. He couldn't tear this girl away from the only parents she had
ever known, even though the thought of not having her in their lives
tore him apart. But even worse, it tore Scully apart.

"Mulder, we can do it. We can go back and just tell them that
we want a copy of her records, that we'll leave them alone after
that. And then I can run the blood tests and --"

He put his hand over hers, which had remained on the table
while her dinner got cold. "Scully, no, we can't. You know we
can't."

"Why the hell not?" She said once again. Her voice
ricocheted off his heart.

"Because it won't end there and you know it. Because even
though you say now that you just have to know, that won't be
the end of it." 

She turned away from him and looked out the window at the
dark parking lot. 

He squeezed her unresponsive hand. "Scully, you and I are
two people whose differences complement each other. But we
are also very much alike in that we both have to know
*everything*. You wouldn't be happy with just a blood test
then moving on. You would have to be able to see her and be
a part of her life. You couldn't just step aside without saying
anything. It would tear you apart."

She turned back toward him and lowered her chin to her
chest, breathing deeply. His thumb began to trace circles on
the back of her hand. "It hurts to step aside, Scully. I know it
does. But we have to -- for this little girl's sake." 

Scully looked up at him then and blinked very slowly, tears
shining in her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was tiny and
trembling. 

"I can't, Mulder. I just can't." Though she didn't say the
name, the memory of Emily lay between them.

"Yes we can, Scully. I will help you." 

And the whisper of a soft, sad smile on her lips told him all he
needed to know.

~*~*~*~*~*~

They stood just inside his hotel room, the door shut against
the outside world, sheltering them within. She reached for his
hand and pulled him into her arms. A rush of joy surged
through him, mingling with the pain to create a bittersweet
warmth. He began to caress her back, grateful for this one
moment they shared.

"Thank you, Mulder," she whispered for not the first time. But
suddenly it felt sincere and warm. 

And she didn't pull away from him. They remained there for
several long moments, pressing into each other, their arms
holding each other tightly. He moved his face down and buried
it in her hair, breathing in her scent. She smelled so good --
clean and a bit minty. From instinct, one hand came up and
began to move through her hair, caressing it. 

Though he hurt deeply, memories of Crystal and Emily still
haunting him, that she was turning to him for comfort and
peace thrilled him. She looked up at him and he saw the
same love in her eyes that he had seen when she looked at
Crystal. And though they had been through so much that day,
he felt like he was really seeing her for the first time -- that she
was finally opening herself to him. He loved her for that, more than
she would ever know. 

He didn't kiss her lips -- not yet. Not while they were still
hurting. But he did let his lips roam over her face, comforting
her. Loving her. 

And she didn't pull away from him. Not this time.

Finally he stood up straight and looked at her, not wanting to
push the envelope any further while they were both still hurting
so much. 

Mulder whispered, "We're going to be okay, Scully." 

She looked up at him. "Yes, I think we will. And I'm glad
you're here."

"I'll always be here." And with that he gave her a short hug
then let her step away from him. "Will you be all right
tonight?" 

"Yeah, I'll be okay. I think I just need to get some sleep."

"Okay. If you need anything, just knock, okay?"

"I will." She gave him one last smile and reached up to kiss
his cheek. "Goodnight." Her voice was a beautiful whisper. 
Then she walked out of the room, closing the connecting
doors behind her.

"Goodnight," Mulder whispered to the closed door, then got
undressed and began to pull back the covers of the bed, finally
confident that they would find a way to survive. Together.

As he sat down on the edge of the bed, the jangling of keys
next door startled him. Since her door was closed, he couldn't
go into her room so, clad only in the sweat pants he wore to
bed, he hurried to the door of the room and leaned out into the
hall. 

And there was Scully, dressed in dark pants and sweater,
trying to quietly shut the door of the room. The look of shock
and guilt on her face as she looked at him told the ugly, harsh
truth.

She was ditching him.

~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter Five
~*~*~*~*~*~

Scully could imagine how she looked right then, could
imagine the look of shock and guilt spreading over her
features. It mirrored how she felt. And as Mulder reached
out and grabbed hold of her shoulder, she felt like she was
watching herself from a distance, taking part in a scene out
of a b-movie, as the hero and heroine argued with each
other in some grand melodrama. The distance helped her
maintain her sanity, but just barely.

"What are you doing?" Mulder's voice struck out at her with
radar precision, every word caught in a web of fury and fear. 
His other arm swung around to catch her other shoulder and
she was an insect trapped in his hold. The look in his eyes
made her fear that he was about to start pulling each leg off,
or else throw himself into the mesh after her.

All she could do was return his gaze, trying to steel herself
and not appear weak.

He shook her slightly. "Tell me, Scully! What are you
doing?"

The wildness of the look in his eyes alarmed her. She
began to breathe slowly in a measured cadence, trying
desperately to keep control.

"Let go of me." The growl in her voice surprised even her. 

Mulder tightened his grip on her shoulders. "No. Not until
you tell me what you're doing, sneaking out of the hotel
dressed all in black." 

She looked away from him and narrowed her eyes. 

"You wouldn't be planning to ditch me, would you?"

"And what if I were?" Her head whipped around to face him,
and she felt a twinge of pride at seeing him flinch slightly. 
"How the hell would that be any different than all the times
YOU have ditched ME?" 

His face crumpled and she was surprised to realize that
even though she should feel guilty throwing out such words
at him, she didn't feel the least bit sorry. She could only
watch, fascinated, as he rebuilt his composure nearly as
quickly as it had fallen. 

"Damn it, Scully, that's not fair." 

She raised her chin, determined not to let him out of this. 
"Yes, Mulder, it IS fair. If this had been Sa -- your sister,
you would have been miles away before I even realized you
were gone." She let her voice drip with venom, afraid to hurt
him yet strangely enjoying the catharsis of lashing out. And
then she dealt her ace: "You've searched for your sister all
your life -- how on earth can you expect me to stop now? 
Are you a hypocrite?"

Mulder's face stilled and a mask washed over it. She knew
the signs of shock when she saw it. He began to speak,
each word calm and measured, but dripping with intensity.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is for me not to seek out
Samantha? I know enough about that woman -- if she IS
my sister -- to set the Gunmen searching for her. They
could probably get me a short list of names and addresses
within a few hours. But I've left her alone. I've had to do
that, because I know she's happier with the life she has
created for herself than if I stepped in and threw everything
into upheaval."

She understood what he was going through and what he
was trying to say to her, but it wasn't enough. All she
could think of was that no matter what this might do to
Mulder -- no matter how much she might hurt him -- she
*needed* to know, with a primal intensity. 

She needed to know if Crystal were her daughter.

That passion, that need to know, was the force which had
driven her to dress in black and sneak out of her hotel room. 
She had planned for it to lead her to Dr. Williams' office to
steal Crystal's patient files. It coursed through her veins,
blinding her. It drove logic from her mind and hesitation from
her heart. She needed to act, to lash out, to spit out her
fury in a fountain of anger. Oh, GOD it hurt. Her entire
body throbbed with anguish, which she convinced herself
was hate for Mulder, who still stood before her, hands on
her shoulders, calmly staring at her with a question lurking
behind his eyes.

And then she snapped, with the small click of someone
playing with a remote control. Fury was the little devil in her
head which made her say....

"Mulder, get away. Just go inside and let me go." 

Her voice froze as it left her mouth. He simply clutched her
shoulders harder and stepped slightly toward her. Before
she realized what she was doing, her hands molded
themselves into tiny claws and bore into his chest, nails
digging into skin with an irrational force. They pushed him
away from her, using all the force stored up in her
tightly-wound body. 

But before she could get too far away from him, he lashed
out and guided her -- just short of kicking and screaming --
back to the room and slammed the door behind them.

Her body accidentally ricocheted off the heavy wooden door,
but she barely noticed the pain as she focused on Mulder's
face, finally showing the fury she wanted to see. She
wanted to hurt him, more than she'd ever wanted to. She
needed to lash out at him because, in her pain-buzzed
mind, he was the one keeping her from her truth. And in
this short moment, she hated him for it.

Not even trying to catch her breath, she propelled herself
forward and began to pummel him with balled-up fists and a
face full of fury. Her voice seared her throat as she
screamed, "What are you DOING, dammit? Why the hell
are you doing this to me? I can do whatever I fucking want
to!" 

It was as if she left the body of Special Agent Scully and
became Dana, who took down her much bigger brother
Charlie when he ruined her eighth grade science fair project. 
She knew this wasn't her, but God it felt good. It felt so
good to take out her anger on this man standing against
her.

This man who wasn't even resisting, but instead just looking
down at her with understanding and patience and sadness. 
The fire which had burnt so strongly was now doused with
guilt and shame and fear. The brightest flames die the
quickest.

All the energy drained out of her body as she held his sad
gaze and let her body reverberate with the aftermath of her
fury. Deep droughts of air coursing through her body, he
changed in her eyes from enemy to ally to confidante. She
found herself slowly sinking into him, as his arms reached
around her and crushed her body in his, supporting her. 

"Oh, God, Mulder. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," became her
mantra.

His voice was soft, like crushed velvet soothing her muscles
and nerves. "Don't be. Don't worry about it."

Mulder pulled her over to the bed and her legs gave way
against its edge. They sank down, sitting together, one of
her shoulders resting against his chest and the other
grasped in his hand. She found herself melting into him as
he pulled her closer. And they sat together for several long
moments as tears threatened to spill over her eyelids. 

Finally, she lay back on the bed, sinking down into the
mattress. "I have to tell you something, Mulder." He was
silent. She almost second-guessed herself, then forged on. 
"I'm sorry I pulled away from you when... when we got back
from California." 

"No, Scully, you don't have to --"

"Yes, I do. I'm sorry." She moved her hand over to grip his
tightly. "I wanted it, more than you'll ever know. I wanted
you to hold me. But --" she took a deep breath. "But I felt
like I had to go through this alone. You've suffered so much
in your life. How could I let you suffer this too?" 

She sat back up then, and placed her other hand on his
chest. It rose and fell, heavy under her hand. His other arm
came up and began to smooth away the hair from her face. 
Mulder's fingers stroked her skin softly, soothing her, their
featherlight touch full of tenderness. Tears sprang,
unbidden, to her eyes. "I guess I was trying to protect you."

"You don't have to protect me. If you shut me out, you're
only hurting both of us." His fingers played over her face,
combing her hair. "I've been there before, Scully. I've felt
what you're feeling right now, and it hurts like hell. But I
survived, and I want to help you with your pain. I want to
help you survive."

She raised up on one elbow and looked at him. Mulder
pulled her into his arms and gathered her into his body. 
She sank into him and they both fell back on the bed. 

"It's just... Mulder, the first moment I saw Crystal, it was
HER. It was like Emily had come back to me."

"But as much as we want her to be, Crystal isn't Emily. 
She's a different little girl."

His voice a sorrowful lament in her ear, he continued. 

"I wanted Emily too, but we lost her. I want Crystal, if she
*is* your daughter. I want to take her home with us and buy
her stuffed animals and watch Sesame Street with her and
for us to be a family. But she has a family. She already
has two parents who love her and we can't just take her
away from that. It's your choice, though, and I'll be here for
you, whatever you choose."

The rush of love she felt for him swept through her body from
her toes to her hair, which already missed his touch. But
the pain still stained her face. It stained him too -- it was
etched into every line on his face, into the very skin that
covered his body. 

"How do you do it? My wounds are new but yours are old. 
How were you able to learn to cope with them?" 

"They may be old, but they're deep. They cut through my
flesh, into my bones." His hand moved up to her arm. 
"They have cost me my family, my career, and most of my
adult happiness." Mulder sighed deeply and ran his fingers
up and down her arm. His touch scorched through the thin
cotton of her sweater. 

"I want more than that for you, Scully." 

"More than what, Mulder? I've given you everything -- my
career, my life. More what?"

Pain and guilt flashed across his face. "Not everything,
Scully. You still haven't given me one thing."

She looked at him, a puzzle written on her face. But the
missing piece was in his gaze. It told her everything she
needed to know.

He loved her. He would help her. They would find their way
through, together.

Scully raised herself up on one elbow and held his gaze. 
She felt like she could live forever, just like this. Her mind
flashed back to the scene in her apartment, when he kissed
her. She could still feel his lips on her face, soothing her. 
Thrilling her. One long finger began to trace his lips. His
chest began to rise and fall against her own, though his face
remained neutral. 

They had been through so much together. They had shared
so much pain. But she still hadn't given him one thing --
herself. They could have so much together. In many ways,
they only had themselves. Why not share this new part of
themselves, the part which could bring them so much
happiness and peace?

She let her lips play over his face, brushing against his skin
with deceptive lightness. The silkiness of his skin against
her slightly chapped lips electrified her. The soft wet snap
of her kisses beat out a steady rhythm. With each one she
gave him another part of her heart. 

Then he tilted his face up under her and captured her lips
with his own. Her eyelids slipped shut and she brushed her
lips against his once, then twice. And then his lips opened
and his tongue began to play against her skin. Oh, God, it
felt good. More than that, it felt painful, but it was a sweet
pain, a beautiful pain. A pain of union. Their kiss deepened
as their mouths opened and the union became complete. 

The harshness and bitterness of their earlier confrontation
was gone, but not forgotten. They needed the tension to
come together, even if it had inflicted scars. But they would
survive together. She knew that now. She knew that
whatever pain she might endure, Mulder would be right there
beside her. Inside her. 

Scully pulled away from him then simply looked at him. He
smiled softly and simply said, "Oh, wow."

Her soft answering smile was wistful but happy. So happy. 
She trailed her free hand down his bare chest, then rested it
where his sweatpants' waistband met his skin. He placed
his hand over hers and began to speak.

"We want this, right? Because once this happens, we can't
go back."

"It's already happened, Mulder."

He gave her a low, sad chuckle, but his face became
serious once again. "Scully, if we are going to let this
happen, then I want to take it slow. I don't want the cloud of
what we're going through right now to hang over it. I want it
to be perfect. Right now, 'perfect' would be just lying here
with you in my arms. That's all I need."

She understood. She understood exactly what he meant. 
Her wounds were still too raw and her mind still too
scattered to allow everything to happen so quickly. Right
now she needed *him*, not his body. And so she gave him
one last, long kiss, then watched as he reached up to turn
off the lamp.

And in darkness, they gathered each other close and slept.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The little girl skipped down the sidewalk as fast as her tiny
legs would carry her. Her hair was pulled up into a perfect
ponytail, with long strawberry-colored curls cascading
downward that bounced with each jump. And then she
began to run through a playground, jumping over a
teeter-totter and climbing on a jungle gym. 

Scully ran to catch up with the tiny blur, but the child was
always a step ahead. Then she stopped at the swingset
and, with a toddler's fastidiousness, seated herself on a
swing. As her legs pumped quickly back and forth, she
raised her face to meet Scully's, and spread a huge,
beautiful smile across her face. 

"Hi!" a cherubic voice called out.

Scully stepped forward and kneeled in front of the child, who
had stopped swinging and was now looking at her with
curiosity. The older woman reached behind her back and
drew out an old, greatly loved teddy bear.

"This is Fuzzy. He's for you, Crystal." 

"How'd you know?" Her voice was excited but confused and
her hands reached out and took the teddy bear from
Scully's arms.

She gazed on the little girl with awe, then her voice said,
"Because I'm your mother." 

Crystal's face twisted up in childish fury and she screamed
out the cruel words, "You're NOT my mommy!" 

Crystal then ran, leaving a stunned Scully in her wake. All
the woman could do was watch as the little girl fled, nearly
tripping over herself then -- at the edge of the playground --
she stopped and turned around, and she became Emily. 

Scully's daughters.

Rejecting her.

She awoke with a silent scream.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Mulder's sleep had been nearly dreamless, except for one
brief moment which repeated through his mind -- the
moment when Scully's lips touched his face and they began
to drink each other. A moment of beauty surpassed only by
the promises it held.

A rustling noise and slight vibration woke him. The room
was dark but as his eyes adjusted he noticed the absence
of Scully. And then he saw her -- huddled up against the
headboard, shaking slightly with her knees pressed against
her breast. The hem of her slacks had inched up to her
knees, and her bare skin gleamed in the pale light. He
moved over toward her and she instinctively pulled away. 

Shock.

She was in some sort of semi-conscious state, similar to
sleepwalking. The image of her, so small and curled up to
ward off demons tore at his heart. He was too worried to try
and reach out to her again, so he lay his hand on her calf. 
She flinched slightly, but allowed him to run his hand up and
down it, comforting her while she remained curled into
herself. After a few minutes, she reached for Mulder.

He realized right then how much she needed him, even
though she might never show it while awake. And her
reaching for him..... his heart cried with love for her even as
his arms held her gently, like precious china. Finally, she
stretched out on the bed and burrowed into his body, falling
into a still sleep.

Mulder lay awake most of the rest of the night, consumed
by waking dreams of the horrors she faced and imagining
how he could ward them off.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Muted sunlight filtered through the heavy drapes covering
the high windows in his -- their -- room. It seared through
his eyelids and greeted him like heaven as he opened his
eyes to the next morning. But the most beautiful sight was
his Scully's dear face, inches away from his own. And she
was smiling softly at him. In that moment, he knew the true
meaning of the word, "blessing".

"Hey."

"Good morning."

He knew in that moment that he need never fear that what
now existed between them wasn't genuine and mutual. It
warmed him immeasurably. 

"Did you end up sleeping well, Scully?"

"Like a log."

"How're you feeling?"

Scully stretched out luxuriously, her toes pointed and her
legs like taut alabaster. Mulder, and Mulder alone, knew
she was at peace. A simple peace that was a luxury for
them. She favorited him with a precious gift, a small Scully
smile.

But that happiness also told him that she remembered
nothing of the nightmare she had suffered, nor her shocked
awakening. He would be there to comfort her, though, when
the memories flooded back. And he would hold her close
when the tragedy of her life caught up with her.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Breakfast was a quiet affair. She poked at a serving of eggs
and biscuits while he managed the better part of an order of
pancakes. The earlier kisses were not repeated, but were
replaced by something far more precious -- closeness. 

Even though they were at a booth, Scully had chosen not to
take her customary seat across from Mulder. Instead, she
had scooted in next to him, her thigh alongside his and her
arm brushing against his. They had remained together like
this all through breakfast, their emotions remaining
unspoken. 

And it was perfect.

Well, as perfect as her life could be right then. She was, for
lack of a better word, sore. Her entire body ached from
fatigue and pain and some other emotion she couldn't quite
name. But he was right beside her. He was there, still with
her, after everything that had happened. And he would
always be with her, no matter what they might face. It was
a comforting thought.

Just as she was preparing to pay the check so they might
head to the airport, the phone in his pocket trilled. As she
put her credit card in the little dish with the receipt, she
listened to him. 

"Yes?... Oh, good morning. Thank you for calling." Off
Scully's curious look, Mulder mouthed, <<Becky Bartlett>>. 
The air around them stilled and she unconsciously held her
breath. Fear paraded slowly through her mind, not giving
her an opportunity to form thoughts. 

She watched Mulder listening carefully, then assenting to
something. He could barely get a word in edgewise, then
looked at her and said, "We'll be there in twenty minutes." 
He disconnected the line.

"She says that we can see Crystal's records. Mrs. Bartlett
didn't sound too thrilled, but she claims she and her
husband have discussed it and they'll sign the waiver to get
photocopies from Dr. Williams." Mulder picked up her hand
and squeezed it softly.

Oh, God.

"Are you okay with this, Scully?" She remained silent. 
"We don't have to go by there, you know. We can take that
flight back this evening and just put it behind us."

That caught her attention. Put it behind them? She could
*never* just put this whole experience behind her. Scully
wanted to be angry with him, but she couldn't. Not after last
night. The emotions rubbed too raw for anger. So she
signed the receipt and took her briefcase in her hand. 

"I'm ready." 

She only hoped she would be.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The retrieval itself was an eerily easy affair. They were not
invited inside the Bartletts' house, nor did Crystal make an
appearance. Instead, Becky stood out on the front porch
and scribbled her signature, then went back inside the
house with scarcely a dozen words passed between them. 
And Scully and Mulder turned around and left. 

They were nearly to the freeway before either of them
spoke. Mulder finally turned to her and said in a
near-whisper, "How're you doin'?" 

She gave him a soft smile. "I'm fine."

Scully had decided that since they couldn't really do
anything during the weekend, they should fly back to D.C.
and take things from there. She wasn't even wholly certain
she wanted to retrieve the files, but the knowledge that she
could pursue Crystal's history was enough for the time
being. She would have to choose her path when she was
ready, but having the means to travel down that path was
sustaining her on a fine line of anticipation and satiation. 

Mulder pulled into a gas station at the intersection and filled
up the tank while Scully went inside to the convenience
store. She slipped inside the ladies' room and stood in front
of the mirror for a long time, forming an image of herself.

Woman.
Friend.
Lover.
Daughter.
Doctor.
Searcher.
Mother.

The truth of each was written in the soft lines beginning to
appear on her face. Though unpronounced and scarcely
visible, she wore them with pride. She had *earned* them. 
Scully had already buried one daughter with tears, fury and
mystery. And now she faced the possibilty of another, plus
countless others "out there", perhaps never to be found. 
Though the idea was terrifying, she had found a sort of
peace within herself. She had found that peace within
herself. The peace of being able to decide. The peace that
if Crystal *was* her daughter, she could still walk away and
be able to live with the knowledge without acting on it.

She finally wiped her eyes of the tears nudging at their
corners, straightened her suit jacket, and walked out the
door to pay for the gas. Instead, she saw Mulder's back as
he walked out to the car and the clerk informed her that he'd
already paid. She rocked back on her heels and absently
glanced around the store. Everything was sterile and in its
place -- a model of bland suburbia. Her eyes fell on a copy
of the Weekly World News, where a headline screamed,
"Alien Spaceship Appears in Kansas Cornfield!" She
couldn't resist a short half-laugh and a roll of her eyes. 
Mulder would love that. Impulsively, she picked it up and
took out a couple of dollars to pay, then headed out to the
car.

Mulder's gaze tracked her as she approached. She met his
eyes and gave him another soft smile. As she opened the
door, she caught sight of a big bag of M&M's in the
passenger seat. Scully picked them up and turned them
over in her hand while she sat down in the car. Looking over
at Mulder, he said, "You looked like you could use some
chocolate."

What a man. She was so very lucky to have him.

As he shifted the transmission into drive, Mulder asked,
"What have you got there?"

Scully held it up so that he could see it with a glance, and
raised her eyebrows.

"The Weekly World News, Scully? Since when have you
started reading that rag?"

"You've corrupted me, Mulder." He laughed in reply. "I'll
read it to you while you drive."

They pulled up to a stoplight. "And to think they sent you
to straighten me out."

She looked down at the half-sheet in her lap. It was a
mockery of everything they had endured together, and yet
strangely appropriate for the two of them. He glanced over
the cover and began reading aloud, without even thinking.

"Miracle Cure for the Common Cold! New Prophecies from
the Stars! 63-Year-Old Woman Gives Birth to Baby." His
voice caught on the last headline.

Scully clenched her hands in her lap a little more tightly
then, still looking down, murmured, "Guess there's still hope
for us yet, Mulder."

She wouldn't let the melancholia overwhelm her. She would
be strong and focus on the hope, not the grief. Mulder kept
his foot on the brake while he leaned over and gave her a
soft, warm kiss on her cheek, near her lips. "We're going to
be okay, Scully."

Scully looked up at him. His calm concern and love
grounded her. The light changed and his attention focused
once again on the road before them. She ran her fingertips
over the envelope containing the Bartletts' waiver, which
rested on the dashboard. It contained her hope and her
fears, all on one piece of paper -- the paper which could be
the key to opening a door or allow her to move on with her
life and find peace.

The envelope was folded in half and placed inside the
briefcase at her feet. She reached over and placed her hand
over Mulder's. 

"Let's go home."

~*~*~*~*~*~

THE END

Special thanks to Mara for her tireless editing. All feedback is
gratefully received at emmalanna@aol.com.

This was a really difficult tale to tell, and I've worked harder
and longer on it than anything else I've written. I would love
to hear what you think, pro and con. Ghirardelli chocolate
and my everlasting Love and Devotion to anyone who takes
the time to send detailed feedback :)

emmalanna@aol.com


~~~ Alanna, alanna@ibm.net ~~~
"sex and violence, melody and silence" --the verve.
stories: members.aol.com/emmalanna/fanfic.html