TITLE: One Glimpse of His Eyes
AUTHOR: nikki 
written 12/30/98
DISCLAIMER: (Sung to the tune of "Adeste Fidelis"/"Oh Come Oh Ye
Faithful--just play around with the inflections and speed with which
you say the words and it'll work. Really.) Oh come oh ye
X-Philes/Read my new creation/It has Scully and Mulder in quite a
mess/Sadly I don't own them/They belong to 1013 and Chris Carter/I
mean them no permanent harm/I'm not making any money from this/I'm
just having a little bit of fun/And I hope that you do too.
SPOILERS: Beyond The Sea, Blood, Duane Barry, Anasazi, Herrenvolk,
Demons, Redux II, Emily, The Red And The Black, The End, How The
Ghosts Stole Christmas
KEYWORDS: Scully, Mulder, Margaret Scully, Bill Scully, Charles
Scully, Skinner, The Lone Gunmen, character death, character birth,
angst, ust (but you gotta really look for it)
OTHER: The entire story is based upon a rumor of Duchovny's imminent
departure from the show and how that absence will be handled.
RATING: PG-13
THANKS: Gerry, Suzi, Traci...I just can't thank you enough.
ARCHIVE: You betcha. But if you're not Gossamer, Xemplary, Ephemeral
or MTA, I'd love it if you'd let me know where this is going.
FEEDBACK: Constructive comments are always greatly appreciated. This
is my first attempt at writing in first person, and a bit longer than
most things I do, so I'd like to know what you think.
nikoleaw@aol.com

SUMMARY: Death, birth, angst, the Lone Gunmen and a tacky giant bear.
After a second abduction, Scully is left pregnant and alone. Or is
she?


St. Clara's Hospital, New York City
July 2000


Consciousness returned slowly, giving me ample time to hear and
recognize the muted beeps and hisses of the equipment that surrounded
me. I was in the hospital, again, and for a brief moment I was
grateful that my return to alertness was more gradual than it had
been the last time. Then I vaguely remembered that the last time I
had woken up in a hospital, months of misery had followed. I quickly
pushed that memory away before it could fully form, choosing instead
to focus on determining what my newest nightmare might turn out to
be.

I hadn't opened my eyes, or made any movement that might alert anyone
to my newly awakened state, yet my mother somehow sensed it, and
leaned over and grasped my hand tightly as she called my name.

I was still hazy, still not sure why I was in the hospital, or why my
mother was there. I worked on ungluing my eyelids and rasped out a
question. "Mom?"

"Oh Dana." The relief in her voice was thick enough to cocoon myself
in.

"Dana? How do you feel?"

I'd opened my eyes and was trying to blink away the blurred edges
when I shifted in an attempt to sit up. The pain that rocketed
through my lower body stole my breath away and brought back a rush of
memories that I would have been just as happy to forget.


My mother saw the grimace that I could not hide and gently held me
down with her hands. "Don't try to move yet. I'll call the doctor in
and he can help you get more comfortable."

The pain had focused into one single thought in my mind and the one
word that I managed to pant out around the pain sounded frantic even
to my own ears. "The baby?"

My mother tightened her grip on my hand and brought her other hand
over to begin a calming, stroking motion over our intertwined
fingers. "The baby is fine Dana. Just fine." She paused to let those
words sink in and then she went on. "They had to do an emergency
Cesarean, and they were a little worried about the lungs not being
fully developed, but everything was fine. You were close enough to
the due date that there were no problems at all. The baby is
perfectly healthy. Would you like to see? They thought that having
the baby here in the room with you might help you wake up faster.
That you might sense that you had an important reason to wake up."

Somewhere in the back of my still-muddled mind, I noted that even in
the midst of what had to be one of the most anxiety-laden times of
her life, my mother had taken special care to abide by my wishes. She
had not once referred to the sex of the baby. Despite the multitude
of tests that I had undergone throughout my pregnancy, I had been
adamant that I didn't want to know the baby's gender. I wanted it to
be a surprise. I *needed* it to be a mystery that my research could
solve.

Suddenly my mother was carefully holding an overwrapped bundle right
above my chest. I fumbled around and found the bed controls and bit
my bottom lip through the pain while the bed raised my head high
enough so that I could see what I was looking at. I carefully reached
out and removed the cap and saw a bald head. No soft baby fuzz
growing there. Just soft, sweet smelling skin on a head that, having
been spared the great squeeze through a tiny birth canal, was
perfectly formed. I took a tiny hand in mine and counted four perfect
fingers and an even more perfect thumb and felt slightly more
assured. I started tugging at the swaddling blankets, and bless her,
my mother remained silent and didn't try to spare me the joy of
discovery.

A boy. I'd had a boy. And while my baby boy had remained asleep
throughout most of my inspection, it seemed that my blithe exposure
of his "dignity" was just too much for him to bear and he opened his
eyes and looked right at me. Tears came to my eyes and I wanted to
look away, but all I could do was stare back at him. When I finally
managed to look up at my mother, I saw a beatific smile on her face.
It was as if she felt blessed that she had been allowed to share this
moment with me, my first sight of the child that I wasn't supposed to
be able to have. I didn't have the heart, the strength or the words
to tell her that all I could feel was the weight of unbearable
memories crushing down upon me.

====== Eight months earlier
Baltimore Medical Center
November 1999


Consciousness slammed into me like I'd run full speed into a brick
wall. I opened my eyes and was assaulted by the sights and smells of
a hospital.

My mother was the first one to realize that I was awake and her sharp
intake of breath quickly alerted the others.

She grabbed my hand and cried out "Dana" and then her eyes and her
voice filled with tears and she was unable to say anything else. My
brother crossed the room in an instant and suddenly he was towering
over me. "God, Dana. Oh, Dana." He smiled down at me and I began to
panic. What in the hell had happened? Why was I here? Why was my
family here? The last two times Bill had come to see me in the
hospital, I had been dying. Had the cancer come back? Had it
destroyed part of my brain and that was why I couldn't remember how
I'd come to rest yet again in a hospital bed? My eyes scanned the
room and landed on Mulder. He was standing back, at the foot of the
bed. With tears in his eyes.

He moved a few steps closer and reached past my mom for a cup. He
removed an ice chip and held it to my lips. I opened my mouth and
accepted it gratefully. Bill however, was not so pleased by this
action.

"What in the hell are you doing? We need to wait until the doctor
comes in."

I swallowed and hoarsely spoke out. "Bill, it's ok. It's just an ice
chip. For my lips and throat."

"But when someone comes out of a coma, I've heard that they're not
supposed to be given anything to eat or drink..." He suddenly fell
silent as both my mother and Mulder looked at him horrified. He stood
up a little straighter and stubbornly replied, "Well, she would have
found out soon enough anyway. You can't just keep all of this from
her forever."

Coma? I'd been in a coma?

I rolled the ice around my tongue for a moment then stuck it in my
cheek so that I could speak again. "How long?"

No one answered. Finally Mulder spoke. "Two weeks."

I swallowed and asked the million dollar question. "What happened?"

Bill reached over and grabbed the call button for the nurse and began
to stab at it. Then he looked at Mulder and said, "What happened is
that your goddamned job and this idiot partner of yours managed to
once again nearly get you killed!"

My mother sniffled and said nothing.

Mulder looked at me with anguished eyes and softly asked, "What's the
last thing you remember?"

I closed my eyes for a moment and let myself enjoy the sensation of
the cold ice rolling around in my mouth while I thought about my last
memory. I opened my eyes and said, "I remember being at home. I was
zipping the lining out of my coat because Kersh was sending us on a
case in Southern California and I didn't want to be too hot. Then,
then you came over, and, and...that's it."

Mulder managed to look worse than he had a few moments before, while
Bill and my mother both seemed to fill with some unnamable emotion.
Mulder hung his head for a few seconds and then looked back up at me.
"Scully, that...that never happened. At least not the way you
remember it."

Bill interrupted, "You're the reason that she's here! The reason that
she's in this situation and you have the nerve now to try and deny
it! To try and act like there's something wrong with her memory!"
Bill looked like he was ready to hit Mulder, but Mulder ignored him
and concentrated solely on me.

"We did get assigned a case in California, but we never got there. I
never came by your house that night. At least not while you were
there. Your mom called me around 2 in the morning. She'd had...she'd
been very worried about you. She'd been trying to call you all night
and when she couldn't reach you, she went over there, and when she
saw what had happened, she called me...."

At that moment, my blood felt as cold as the ice that had been so
soothing to my parched and swollen tongue just a few seconds earlier.
I had been here before. And this was worse, much worse than a return
of my cancer.

I looked at Mulder and I knew. I didn't trust my voice to carry my
next words. And Mulder knew that, and saved me the effort.

It was as if I could see him gathering all of his strength around him
as he quietly looked at me and sadly whispered, "Three months. Just
like before."

A rush of nausea overwhelmed me. Mulder nearly knocked Bill over
rushing for the emesis basin, but he was too late. Thankfully, I
didn't have much in my stomach to empty, but I was humiliated and
scared and tired and angry nonetheless.

At that moment, a nurse came in. "Why Miss Scully! We are so happy to
see you awake and alert!" She saw Mulder still standing there with
the empty emesis basin in his hands and smiled brightly. "I'll just
get you cleaned up and then I'll just take your temperature and your
blood pressure, monitor a few reflexes and then we'll wait for your
doctor to come and give you the full once over." She made shooing
motions at everyone and then soothed them with assurances that they
would all be allowed back in as soon as she was through. I thought I
heard Mulder murmur something about calling my doctor, and then I
just closed my eyes and let the nurse do her job.

When I woke up again, it was to a husky voice proclaiming, "You told
me she was awake and alert!"

I could hear the fear in his voice as Mulder replied, "She was! I
left and called you, and then I went for a walk so that her family
could have some time alone with her."

I opened my eyes and I could see the relief flood into Mulder. He
came over to my side and took my hand. I barely registered that he
did it naturally and unselfconsciously, just as his gestures of
warmth and closeness had been when I was dying from the cancer. He
was introducing the doctor to me, and most of my attention was
focused on trying not to laugh. The doctor looked like Velma from the
"Scooby Doo" cartoon. This couldn't be right. I decided that they
must have given me some drugs while everyone was away, and I was
curious what they gave me that made me hallucinate.

"I'm sorry doctor. I didn't catch your name. And could you tell me
what medications I'm currently on?"

The doctor smiled at me then walked up, took my hand and shook it.
"Dr. Dana Scully, I'm Dr. Lilian Adams. And judging from the size of
your medical file and the number of doctors you've seen, I'm sure the
pleasure of meeting is more mine than yours. As for medications, you
shouldn't be on any. I left strict instructions that you were to be
given nothing other than nutritional supplements and according to
your chart, they've followed those instructions. And since I know
that the guards outside were hand-picked by Mulder, I doubt anyone
managed to sneak in and slip you a mickey while no one was looking."

Oh. Then that meant that either my doctor was lying to me, or she
really did look like a cartoon character. Oh my.

"So tell me, how are you feeling?"

I was feeling a lot of things that I didn't have names for, and a lot
of other things that I didn't particularly want to share with either
Mulder or a complete stranger, so I settled on describing the one
sensation that was most irritating at the moment.

"Nauseous."

Dr. Adams nodded. "That's to be expected. Your stomach's empty and
that usually makes it worse." She reached into her pocket and pulled
out three packets of saltines. "Here, munch on these. When I'm done
with the exam, I'll see about getting the kitchen to send you
something light and bland and we'll see how well you keep it down."

I eyed the saltines gratefully, remembering what a godsend they'd
been during my weeks of chemotherapy.

"I understand that you've already been through this once with Mulder
and your family, and I'm sure you'll have to go through it several
more times with detectives and such, but it would be very helpful to
me if you could tell me what you last remember before waking up
here."

I liberated a saltine and munched on it thoughtfully while I repeated
my brief story to her. When I was done, she nodded and then asked
Mulder to leave the room while she conducted her exam.

Try as I might, I couldn't help the tears that started to flow when
she set up the small portable stirrups for me. I was overwhelmed by
memories of Emily, of the violation that had occurred to my body and
my soul the last time that I had been taken. I was terrified that it
had happened again.

I don't know if she thought it would reassure me, or just keep my
mind otherwise occupied, but she told me a bit about herself as she
poked and prodded and jabbed and palpated.

When she was done, I knew that she was a long-time friend of
Frohike's. That she had served as a nurse in a MASH unit during the
Vietnam War. She'd come home in the early 70's and gone to medical
school because she knew that soldiers were coming home with diseases
that most doctors weren't prepared to treat. Diseases that the
government had insisted did not exist. She'd started a small free
clinic for vets in New York. Many vets had balked at the idea of
being treated by a woman, and others respected that she had served
her government, done her time In Country, come back alive and
unafraid to admit that her government had done wrong, was still doing
wrong by those men and women who had served it. She told me that
Frohike had personally asked her to take on my case. That she'd met
and talked with Mulder and Skinner and that Skinner had quietly and
forcefully pulled whatever strings were needed to allow her to come
to D.C. and handle my case. She wasn't sure but she thought he'd also
somehow finagled a way for the Bureau to pay her fees, and Mulder was
paying her airfare for her to commute to and from New York to D.C. so
that she could continue to work at her clinic. She said that what
she'd seen in Vietnam had convinced her that there were a lot of
things that didn't have human explanations, and that the government
was capable of unspeakable acts done in the name of national
security. She also indicated that she had more than a slight interest
in Skinner, but that he had been nothing more than unfailingly polite
to her. What a pity.

She gave me a few minutes to let my tears dry up, then handed me a
cool cloth to wipe my face.

"Can I ask Mulder to come back in now?"

I nodded and she went to the door and beckoned towards him.

Mulder sat down at my side and looked as though he'd rather be
anywhere else in the world than there with me.

Dr. Adams sat on the edge of the bed and angled herself so that she
could look at both Mulder and me as she spoke.

"Ordinarily, I speak to my patients alone unless they specifically
request that there be someone else present. In this case, I want to
talk to both of you because what I have to say involves both of you.

Dana, as you know, you were missing for a period of three months. Two
weeks ago, in response to a "request for an alert" that Mulder had
placed with virtually every emergency room in the country, he got a
call when you turned up here. When you turned up, all kinds of tests
were done to try and determine why you were comatose and what kind of
trauma your body had suffered. No answers were found. But what was
found was totally unexpected and prompted Mulder to call Mel and ask
him to find a trustworthy doctor who could run some tests for him. I
ran the tests, and when the results came back, Mulder asked me to be
your doctor. I'm not an OB-GYN, but I keep up with several fields,
and I agreed to take on your case as a specialist in unusual
neurological diseases, arguing that your continued comatose state was
most likely the result of some sort of neuro trauma. I have an OB
who's a fairly good friend and I asked him to come check you out and
make sure nothing was wrong. Talk about some unhappy hospital
officials! Anyway, the reason for the nausea you're experiencing is,
that you're pregnant. As I'm sure you know, pinpointing a conception
date is difficult enough in normal circumstances, even more so when
the mother is unable to tell us when she last engaged in sexual
intercourse. The size of the fetus indicates that your pregnancy is
somewhere within weeks 8 through 10. Which means that it most
certainly occurred while you were gone. That's why any memories
whatsoever that you may have of that time are vitally important."

I didn't know that I was capable of such fury. In retrospect, I think
the magnitude of my fury was compounded by the fact that of all of
the emotions that were swirling through me at that moment, fury was
the only one I would allow myself to feel. And that fury was directed
at Mulder. Once again, my deepest, most private sense of womanhood
had been violated, and once again, Mulder had known of it before I
did. The injustice of it all made me shake, and those saltines that
had seemed so heavenly a few minutes earlier were threatening to make
a second, less attractive appearance. I couldn't think rationally and
I didn't want to. The only thought that I grab hold of in the
malestrom of my mind was, "Again. It's happened again. And this time
they're going to make sure that I know I've had this child before
they come and take it away."

All I wanted was to be left alone. So, in a voice that was deadly
calm and quiet, I told them both to get out. Mulder's eyes held an
apology that I didn't want to hear, and I watched as they changed to
reflect his acceptance of my dismissal. He turned to leave, then
turned back to me.

"Scully, I...I'll be back later this afternoon. I got a call from an
informant. They may have information about why you were taken and why
this was done to you."

I answered his words with as icy a glare as I could muster and I was
relieved when he followed Dr. Adams out the door.

Later that evening, Dr. Adams returned. It seemed that there was more
to the horror story, and she wasn't going to leave me alone until I'd
heard the whole wretched tale. This time, I wasn't so much amused as
annoyed by her close resemblance to the cartoon Velma, and I used
that annoyance to ground me through her little chat.

"You know, if everyone had someone who cared about them half as much
as Mulder cares about you, the world would be a very different
place."

I closed my eyes and hoped that if I ignored her long enough, she
would get the hint and go away. I was terrified and angry beyond
reason at Mulder. I didn't want anyone to give me a reason not to be.

"He fought your entire family over bringing me onto your case. When
he first brought me here, to take blood and fluids for the test, your
mother and both your brothers were here."

"Charlie?" My mother had spent most of the afternoon with me and had
never once mentioned that Charlie had been here.

"Um hmm. You think there's tension in the air when Mulder and Bill
are in the room together, you should have seen him with Charlie! Even
I was relieved when his ship got called back out to sea. Anyway, when
he first brought me here, everyone was there. And Mulder introduces
me and explains that I'm going to take some blood and run some tests.
Mind you, I come in and start setting up a little bio-bubble around
you and I've got this clunky hazmat suit with me. Margaret starts
asking what all of that is for and Mulder tries to explain that there
may be some risk of an unknown toxin being released when I start
taking fluids. Charlie and Bill are screaming that that's just
nonsense, that all kinds of other tests have been done on you and no
one was worried about anything like that. But he's just trying to
explain that none of the other tests were invasive, that they were
sonograms and physical exams but that I was going to be retrieving
amniotic fluid. Which pushed Bill over the edge. He starts screaming
at Margaret that Mulder thinks you're carrying an alien baby that was
magically implanted in you while you were missing and that he's crazy
and a danger to everyone. Margaret is trying to be somewhat
reasonable, but it's clear that she was pretty fed up with Mulder by
then. He decided that the best thing to do was to leave. Just leave
me in there with them and hope for the best. Thankfully, I'm pretty
damned good at saying, "I'm just following orders." Which is exactly
what I said, and went right on about my business. The only thing I
stopped for was when Margaret asked me to take a look at the scar
above your navel and give an estimate as to how fresh it was. Other
than that, I got my samples, broke down the biounit and got the hell
out.

I divvied up the samples and sent them off to two labs that I use a
lot, gave the rest to Mulder for testing in the FBI lab and then went
back to New York, figured I'd come back when the results were in."

----------------------------------------------------------------------
-----------
It wasn't until months later that I learned that Dr. Adams had
skipped over some very significant events in her narrative. Late in
my sixth month of pregnancy, my mother had brought me home after a
shopping spree. We'd come in and I'd automatically hit the button on
my answering machine to hear my messages. One of my messages was from
my OB-GYN, reminding me that I needed to come in the next day for
tests. My mother looked away and then said, "I remember the first
tests after you came back. The ones that Fox had ordered."

It was the first time she'd spoken his name in my presence in four
months. She turned away from me and continued speaking.

"We were all shocked when the hospital doctors said that you were
pregnant. They were asking all these questions that we couldn't
answer and at first, we all kept insisting that the test results were
wrong. That you couldn't possibly be pregnant and that they needed to
redo the tests. Fox was screaming about lawsuits and physically
threatening doctors and finally I made him go home and sleep. Then,
the forth morning that you were in the hospital, Fox and I were
sitting in your room when the orderlies came to turn you. Somehow he
saw your stomach and saw a small scar on your stomach, just above
your navel. He asked me if I knew about it. I looked at it and said
no, and pointed out that it looked fairly new. When I said that, he
nearly threw up right there. He left the hospital and didn't come
back until the next day. He just marched into your room with a doctor
in tow and started setting up this little, 'area' around you. The
boys were yelling at him, I was yelling at him, and Dr. Adams just
worked quietly through it all. At the end, I remember telling him
that it was his love for you that had caused us all to be there,
watching you die yet again, in another hospital bed, and I told him
to leave you and our family alone. It was eerie. He looked around at
me and the boys, as if he was memorizing who we were and then he just
blanked us out. He asked Dr. Adams if she had everything she needed
and then he left."

_________________ 

Somehow I think that Dr. Adams did the right thing that night by
leaving out that part of the story. Especially considering what was
left that she had yet to tell me.

"I got the results back faster than normal because I'd promised
heaven and earth to those labs. So when they came, I hopped on a
plane and met with Mulder again. I don't know what in the hell he'd
promised to the Bureau labs, but he managed to get the results from
them later that day." Even though my eyes were still closed, I could
feel her stare directly at me as she said, "The results were not at
all what he'd expected."

Try as I might to wish her away, I had to admit that curiosity was
getting the better of me by now. This was after all, something
growing within my body that we were talking about. And considering
that Mulder is the master at expecting the unexpected, if the results
took him by surprise, then it must have been far worse than even I
had imagined. All day, while I'd lain in the comforting presence of
my mother, I'd battled with images of Gibson and his gruesomely
stitched scalp; of Emily and of her empty coffin. I knew that I could
not bear to suffer another loss like that.

"I'd deliberately waited until I'd gotten the results back from both
of the labs before I'd even called him, so that I could be sure of
whatever results I got. The results that he'd gotten from the Bureau
matched all of mine, except of course, for the tests that he'd had
done that I didn't." She stopped then, knowing that she had me
hooked.

Finally I opened my eyes and asked her. "And what did the results
tell you? What am I carrying in my womb? No wait, let me guess. You
found protein strands that could not be identified. Peptide bonds
that do not occur in nature and must, therefore, by definition, be
classified as extraterrestrial."

"No. That's what Mulder was expecting. What I found was a perfectly
normal, healthy developing fetus. What the Bureau labs found was the
source of the fetus' genetic material. You see, you guys have that
nifty DNA database that I don't have access to. Well, I could've
gotten access to it if I'd wanted to, but that would've raised a
whole new stink that I didn't want to deal with, and honestly, from
everything Mulder had told me beforehand, I didn't think it would be
necessary. But what they found was that the fetus' genetic material
was a perfect match for yours, and for Mulder's."

I've only fainted twice before in my life. Once, early in med school,
before I'd mastered the art of scientific interest and clinical
detachment, and then, many years later, when I encountered ghosts who
were nothing more than figments of my overtired body and
overstimulated imagination. As I came to, on this, my third ever
faint, I consoled myself with the excuse that I was pregnant and that
blood was busily rushing from my brain to my uterus to help support
the growing life there. Anything but admit that what Dr. Adams had
just told me was the most unexpected and unwelcome news I could have
ever hoped to hear.

I was carrying Mulder's baby. I was carrying the child of a man that
as far I could recall, I'd never had sex with. Hell, I'd never even
told him how I felt about him, although I was certain that he already
knew. I knew that if he were here, he'd have a theory. Something
involving his sperm being extracted without his knowledge and most
likely an in-vitro fertilization with my egg before re-implantation
in my body. I doubted if he would have an answer for the question
that I was most interested in: not how, but *why* had this happened?
For the first time since I'd learned that I was pregnant, I felt my
stomach, to see if I could feel any sign of the life growing within
me. I could not. But I did feel a small lump above my navel, which
when I checked, revealed a small scar, over what felt like a solid
piece of something just under my skin--nearly identical to the one in
the nape of my neck. It had truly happened again, only this time, it
was much, much worse.

I never got to sleep that night, which is probably why I remained so
calm during the horror that came the next day. If I had been well
rested and alert, I would have known that I should have been
devastated. As it was, I was too tired to feel more than an icy
numbness.

My mother and Bill were bringing me up to date on family news when
Dr. Adams and Skinner came in. Dr. Adams' eyes were red and swollen
and the muscle behind Skinner's jaw was twitching non-stop. My mother
and Bill nodded at Skinner and he didn't acknowledge them as he sat
on the edge of the bed and took my hand.

"Agent Scully, there's been...a murder."

Bill stepped over. "What the hell is wrong with you people? Can't you
see she's in the hospital? If you want to visit her, fine, but leave
work outside the door. There's nothing she can do from in here, and
she needs to rest..."

Skinner's head jerked up quickly. He looked at Bill with a mixture of
anger and exasperation and in a menacing growl cut him off. "I'm well
aware of where we are and what condition Agent Scully is currently
in. But this is something that she needs to know, and she needs to
know it now."

Turning back towards me, Skinner was once again that rarely seen man
of compassion. "Agent Scully, early this morning, Agent Mulder's body
was found. He was in the basement, in the X-Files office. It was done
execution style. Clean and painless. The switchboard put a call
through to him at around 6 o'clock last night, so we know it happened
after that, but the coroner said that he didn't think his body had
been there for much more than 12 hours, which would put the killing
between 6 and 9."

My mother gasped then threw her hand over her mouth as she closed her
eyes in a grimace of pain. Bill was blessedly silent. I blinked a few
times as the news settled in, then I smoothly and without conscious
thought slid into my law enforcement agent role.

"What do you mean by execution style? How confident is the coroner on
that time of death? Was there any trail of blood or other indications
that he was killed there or that he might have left the office, been
killed elsewhere and then brought back? Has his mother been notified
yet? I wouldn't recommend notifying her until it is 100% confirmed
that the body found is in fact, Mulder's. When is the autopsy
scheduled and can it be postponed for a few days?"

"Dana! What the hell are you asking about?!" Bill was nearly
apoplectic.

I ignored him and continued to look at Skinner. "I'd like to perform
the autopsy."

My mother's hand shot out towards mine and she stumbled in her haste
to get to me. "My God, Dana, no!"

Skinner's jaw twitched so fast that a distant part of my mind puzzled
over how he could open his mouth at all, as he shook his head.
"That's against Bureau procedure, Agent Scully. You know that. And
even if it wasn't..."

I stared at him a few moments longer and then looked away. My
partner, my friend, the father of my unborn child was dead, and I
felt...nothing, save for a professional interest in determining that
he was in fact dead and if so, in locating the killer. Mulder had
been dead too many times before for me to take it at face value now.

"Sir, there are certain...distinguishing characteristics that another
ME wouldn't know to look for. Items that don't appear on any of his
medical records. If I were allowed even to assist in the autopsy then
I could..."

"No. Agent Scully, while you and Agent Mulder were undoubtedly two of
the finest agents that I have ever seen, there are other perfectly
competent professionals within the Bureau. One of them will perform
the autopsy tomorrow morning. And yes, the Director himself went to
see Mrs. Mulder this morning. Apparently they knew one another
casually from Mulder's father's days in the State Department."

As Skinner stood to leave, he reached over for the hand that my
mother hadn't taken hostage. "Bureau support resources will be
available to you at any time should you choose to utilize them. And I
understand that Agent Mulder had already taken steps to ensure that
you and your child will be taken care of." He lowered his gaze as he
added, "I'm very sorry for your loss."

Later that afternoon, after I'd convinced my mother that I was safe
enough with Frohike, Byers and Langly for her to spend 20 minutes
getting some food, I sent a memo to Skinner. In it, I detailed known
"distinguishing characteristics", such as a faint scar on his chest
from when he'd been clawed by the "Beast Woman" in New Jersey, a
healed bullet scar on his left thigh from when he'd been shot during
the Bogg's case, and others that I knew weren't in his personnel
file. A nicely puckered scar on his right shoulder right under the
collarbone where I'd shot him to keep him from killing Alex Krycek.
Some sort of calcification in his skull right at his hairline from
when he'd had holes drilled in his head in a misguided attempt to
retrieve lost memories.

Two days later, as I was slowly dressing myself in preparation for my
discharge, an envelope arrived via courier for me. My mind was still
dwelling on the conversation that I had just had with the doctor,
regarding the possibility of terminating the pregnancy. I understood
that the hospital was simply making sure that I was aware of all of
my options, however, the conversation had deeply disturbed me. While
I believed in a woman's right to choose, my personal religious
convictions, as well as my knowledge that this was most likely my
only chance to have a baby had fairly well determined my choice
already. However, even in the face of that knowledge, I couldn't let
go of the fact that it was after all, an event that had occurred
without my awareness or consent. I had in essence, been raped, and
the child that I produced would forever remind me of the part of
myself that was ashamed that I had been once again, helpless in the
face of my attackers. And, there was a small part of me, that I
wasn't yet ready to acknowledge, that understood that the life that
was growing inside of me was symbolic of the relationship that I had
shared with Mulder.

I sat down on my bed and withdrew the contents of the envelope while
still musing over the doctor's words to me. While Dr. Adams had
accepted the idea of a mystery impregnation without question, the
hospital doctors, as well as my family, were still more inclined to
believe that Mulder had raped me--explaining why my last coherent
memory was of him coming to my apartment--and then, in an attempt to
cover his actions, had somehow staged another abduction for me. As a
result, I had gotten a brief lecture from the doctor about the
resentment towards the child that was often suffered by mothers who
delivered babies that had been conceived against their wills. While
my hand withdrew a series of photographs and notes, from the ME's
examination, it took a few seconds for my mind to register what I was
seeing. Photos and notes that confirmed the existence of each and
every scar and anomaly that I knew of, and of others that I hadn't
known of. Injuries both internal and external from Mulder's younger
days, confirmed by earlier medical records--the tell-tale remnants of
a dislocated shoulder from his high school baseball days; a slightly
misshapen toe from his time on the basketball team; an unnoticeable
lump of extra bone growth on his shin from his short-lived days of
playing rugby at Oxford; a healed bullet wound in his upper right arm
from an early case gone bad.

At that moment it all sunk in. I had been returned from yet another
unexplained three month disappearance to learn that I was carrying a
baby fathered by a man whom I was fairly certain I'd never slept
with, who was now dead and whom my last spoken words to, had been
words of anger. Mulder had last seen me knowing that I was angry at
him, had died believing that I had not forgiven him.

I suddenly had a clearer understanding of how his memories of
Samantha's abduction had determined his quest. As a young boy, his
desire to find her had most likely stemmed from a childish desire to
"make things right", to erase his parents' displeasure by proving
that while he might have "lost" his sister, he was in fact
responsible enough to find her again. But as a man, Mulder's search
for Samantha became something that he had to do for himself. He
needed to prove to himself that he could locate and punish the
perpetrators, he needed to have the opportunity to tell her that
while he'd been angry at her during those last few moments, he loved
her, and his anger would pass, as it always had before. I felt
energized and driven. I had no doubt that Mulder's death and my
disappearance were related. I too had perpetrators to locate,
multiple grievous wrongs to be avenged. And when I was done, Mulder
would know that I had forgiven him, as I always had before.

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

St. Clara's Hospital
July 2000


I blinked at the tears and just as quickly as they had come, they
were gone. I motioned to my mother to return the baby to his crib,
but she was deeply involved in her fantasy of me as the perfect
mother and leaned over me and asked if I wanted to try and feed him.

I had just woken up, each breath I took was leading me to discover a
new ache or pain in some other part of my stomach, and I had just
looked into my newborns' eyes and seen not the bright blue that I'd
come to expect from newborns, but the golden green eyes of my
ex-partner. I did not want to feed my child. I just wanted to close
my eyes and pretend that the last 6 months had never happened.
Instead, I looked nervously at my mother and mumbled, "Could you get
the nurse? I, I'm not sure what to do."

She smiled at me and shifted the baby so as to allow him better
access to my tender breast. "I breast fed three of the four of you. I
can show you anything that you don't figure out on your own. Besides,
this is your first time and you've just woken up. I wouldn't be
surprised if your milk isn't flowing yet anyway. This will just be a
practice run. Then we can get the bottle and you can feed him that
way until you're ready."

I looked away, embarrassed beyond measure. While my mother and I had
reached an uneasy truce during the long months of my pregnancy, I was
still not as comfortable around her as I had been before the
pregnancy. She still harbored too much carefully hidden resentment
towards Mulder, towards who'd I become after I'd met Mulder, for me
to ever truly feel perfectly comfortable with her again. I understood
that this was a joyous occasion for her, and I didn't want to ruin
it, but I was tired and sore and depressed and angry, not to mention
perplexed as to why I was even in the hospital, and quite frankly,
learning the finer points of breast-feeding from my mother was not
high on my list of things that I wanted to do. I quietly asked her
again if she would let the nurse know that I was awake.

She seemed to sense my reluctance, and, gracious woman that she could
be, seemed to choose to interpret it as fear and post-partum
depression. She rang the bell, and as she placed my son back in his
crib, she turned to me and asked the question that I was hoping she
wouldn't ask.

"Dana, why were you in a New York alleyway at 1 o'clock in the
morning?"

Frohike saved me from having to answer that question. He could barely
open the door to my room for having his arms so full of flowers.
Three dozen pink roses. And behind him was Byers with a teddy bear
large enough to serve as a bed for me. Frohike placed the roses on my
bedside table and then placed a careful kiss on my forehead. He
smiled and bowed politely at my mother as he greeted her with,
"Margaret, you're looking lovely as always." My mother beamed at him
and answered, "It's always nice to see you, Mr. Frohike." I tried not
to giggle as I thought about the first time my mother had met
Frohike, five months ago, and after he'd left had looked at me
questioningly and asked, "Is Frohike his first or last name?" I'd had
to think about it for a minute, and realizing that I honestly didn't
know, I decided that it had to be his last name.

However, thoughts of Frohike's unusual name aside, my eyes were still
riveted to the stuffed monstrosity that he and Byers had lugged into
my room. "What on earth?"

Byers nodded at me and my mother then pointed at the bear. "It's a
gift."

Frohike chimed in, "From all of us."

And Byers finished the thought, "For the baby."

My eyebrow lurched upwards as my mother smiled again and said, "It's
lovely."

Byers explained that because they'd bought it a few weeks previously,
when the baby's sex had still been unknown, the bear was sporting a
gender neutral yellow bow tie.

Meanwhile, Frohike had walked over to the crib and was peering
intently into it. "So?" He finally asked me impatiently.

During the months after Mulder's death, I had kept in close contact
with the Lone Gunmen. They'd been reluctant to help me at
first--they'd known I was pregnant and they were fearful of giving me
any information that might me lead me into a dangerous situation. But
they quickly realized that I was going to follow up on my leads and
get information with or without their help. They decided that helping
me afforded me more protection than not helping me did. And during
that time, Frohike and I became good friends. Frohike had voluntarily
decided to bring me dinner at least one night each week, and to rub
my back and feet while he was there. As he had explained, he'd been
16 when his mother had been pregnant with his youngest sister, and
he'd never forgotten how appreciative she'd been of backrubs and
footrubs during the later months of her pregnancy. As a result of
spending so much time with them, and most especially with Frohike, we
had fallen into our own set of odd unspoken speech patterns.

"It's a boy." I replied wearily.

"Name?"

"Haven't really thought about it."

I guess the baby favored him with a glance then, because Frohike
called over to Byers, "Hey Byers, come check this out." Turning to
me, he asked, "I thought all babies had blue eyes?"

I let out a small yawn as I answered, "Most Caucasian babies do, but
not all of them." And leave it to me and Mulder to produce an infant
who would fall outside of the statistical norm.

The nurse entered the room then. She took one look at Frohike and the
giant bear and said, "I'm going to have to ask you all to leave now.
The doctor will be in shortly to examine the patient, and she's been
through quite an ordeal, she needs her rest."

While I was mildly disturbed that the nurse was talking about me as
though I wasn't there, I was grateful for the sentiment. Between the
exhaustion and the pain, I was getting grouchy and I wanted a few
moments to myself to think before I once again became an interesting
specimen for the doctors to observe.

Byers patted my arm then turned to leave. My mother fussed over the
baby for a few seconds more before kissing my cheek and following the
nurse's waving arm out the door. Frohike was failing miserably in his
attempt to relocate the giant bear into an unobtrusive corner. He
turned to the nurse and nodded deferentially at her. "Just a moment
ma'am. I'd just like to get this out of everyone's way."

The nurse was suckered by the little gnome's charm and actually
closed the door and left me alone with him. He promptly turned on me
and asked, "What in the hell were you doing? Two weeks before your
due date and you were tromping around the streets of New York at 1
o'clock in the morning! No warning, no calls. Suddenly, we notice
your name pop up on the admissions list in a New York hospital. Then
your mother calls and says they had to take you in for emergency
surgery. What was so urgent that you couldn't call us? One of us
would've come with you."

I closed my eyes. I was still trying to put all of the pieces
together in my own mind and everyone's endless chatter and my own
maudlin memories of past months weren't helping. "I know Frohike. I
know. I got a call. I needed to get here right away. There just
wasn't time." For the umpteenth time in just a few months, I knew how
Mulder must have felt as he tried to justify his solo escapades.

"Who was the call from? What was so important?"

"It was from...an informant. Someone who's given me some useful
information over the last few months....someone who used to be one of
Mulder's informants."

Just as I uttered those last words, Skinner entered the room. I
opened my eyes in greeting and wondered where the nurse had gone. I
was hoping that it was time for another one of her sweeps of the
room.

"Agent Scully. I'm glad to see that you're awake now. And I hope that
I haven't missed your explanation for why you were in New York in the
middle of the night."

Frohike answered for me. "She got a call from one of Mulder's old
informants."

"It was *my* informant Frohike. She had information for me. She just
happens to be one of Mulder's old informants."

Skinner briefly checked on the baby and then turned to look at me.
"This informant wouldn't be named Marita Covarrubias, would she?"

I was too tired to hide my surprise.

Skinner rotated his lower jaw and then went on. "I had the
opportunity to utilize Ms. Covarrubias's 'services' a few years ago.
I found her knowledge to be lacking. I don't think that you should
consider her as an ally Agent Scully."

"She's given me information, in the past, on leads about Mulder as
well as on other cases that have proven to be helpful. I had no
reason to doubt her this time."

Skinner gave me a mild glare. "Agent Scully, when I fought for you to
retain control of the X-Files after Agent Mulder's death, I did so in
the belief that you would continue the work that the two of you had
been doing. That you would seek out and bring to justice these
nameless, faceless men who play with people's lives with impunity.
I've sat quietly by and watched you spend the last half year turning
in reports on unimportant cases dealing with charlatans and parlor
magicians that any green agent could have solved. I kept my own
counsel because I assumed that you were trying to keep a low profile
to protect your unborn child and to ensure that nothing you did could
be used to justify any of the Bureau's attempts to close the books on
Agent Mulder's murder. And now I hear that you've been working with
his, questionable, informants, pursuing your own avenues of
investigations, endangering your own life as well as that of your
child..."

I gritted my teeth and let only a small portion of my growing anger
seep through. "Sir, while I appreciate your concern, I am a trained
field agent. And I've been around long enough to know how this story
ends. I refuse to sit back and let Mulder's death become another
statistic in a long list of unsolved crimes." My eyes bored into his
as I went on. "Agent Mulder died for the X-Files. For me. For some
piece of knowledge that he had that someone didn't want him to share.
And that knowledge related to me. To my abductions and the chips in
my neck and stomach. To the child that we never should have been able
to have. I owe it not only to him, but more importantly, to myself,
to find out who that someone was and what that piece of information
meant." This was as close as I felt that I could come to telling them
that I had become convinced that Mulder had been killed because he
had found out the reason behind my abduction and impregnation. That I
needed to avenge his murder in order to reclaim my soul.

"Agent Scully, I understand that. I sympathize with that, and I'm
willing to help you in whatever way I can. But as you yourself just
pointed out, Agent Mulder died for the X-Files. I'm not willing to
lose another agent to them."

"Sir, that's a risk that I'm willing to take."

"And apparently one that Ms. Covarrubias is more than willing to help
you take."

His words jarred another memory loose in my mind. Slowly I said,
"No... She didn't shoot at me. In fact...I don't think I was the
target at all. The bullets came from behind her. I think they were
shooting at her. She knocked me down and tried to cover me."

"But I don't think she wanted me to get hurt. She was trying to
protect the baby and neither of us realized until it was too late
that the shock of being thrown to the ground, coupled with her weight
around my stomach had done more damage than good. She stayed on me
even after she'd been shot in the leg. She only left after she was
sure the shooting was over. By then, I knew something was wrong with
the baby. I couldn't move because of this massive cramp in my
stomach, and I could feel what I thought was blood running down my
legs. She called 911 right before she left." I don't know why, but I
decided not to tell them that despite the blood that was pumping out
of her leg, she sat and held my hand until we could hear the
ambulance sirens in the distance.

Skinner nodded. "Well, at least that explains the mysterious female
who placed the 911 call as well as the presence of blood at the scene
that wasn't yours. It is interesting that none of the databases came
up with an identity match on that blood though. Did you see how she
got away? Did she get in a car?"

I shook my head. "She limped off. If she had a car, it was a few
blocks away because I didn't hear any sounds of an engine starting
up."

Frohike looked at Skinner and said, "I don't suppose it would do much
good to check the hospitals for a woman with a bullet wound to the
leg?"

Skinner scowled. "No. These people take care of their own."

I looked at him intently. "She's not who or what you think she is.
She's not on their side. Not after what they did to her."

Skinner looked at me like a wayward child as he asked, "And what did
she tell you they did to her?"

"It's not what she told me. It's what she let me discover for myself.
The first time she came to me with information. She let me draw blood
from her and test it. Her blood contained the same DNA residue that
was found in Gibson Praise's blood, and in my blood, after I got back
from Antarctica. They used her as a human guinea pig. That's why she
was helping me."

Frohike muttered, "Holy Toledo" and Skinner just stared at me blankly
for a few seconds before asking, "Well what information did she have
for you that was so important?"

I closed my eyes in defeat as I quietly said, "I don't know. The
shooting started before we could say much to one another."

"Well what did she say to you when she called you and asked for a
meeting? It must have been something big to get you to go to New York
in the middle of the night with less than two weeks left to your
pregnancy."

I willed my voice not to hitch as I said, "She said she had
information that related to the abrupt ending of the Branford case."

Neither man needed to be reminded that the Branford case was the one
that Mulder and I never investigated, because I had been abducted the
night before we were supposed to leave. Knowing that, I decided not
to tell them that she'd also said that she had come across some clues
as to what it was that Mulder was going to tell me about my
abductions had he not been killed before he got back to my hospital
room.

"When she met me in the alleyway, she said something about once
telling Mulder that not everything dies. Then she reached in her
pocket and..." I gasped as I suddenly realized that I still had the
lead she'd given me. "My jacket!! I need my jacket!!"

Frohike was at my side in seconds. "Calm down. What about your
jacket?"

"I need it. There's a piece of paper, in my pocket." 

Skinner went to the room's little closet and pulled out my blood
stained jacket. He held it out in front of him as he brought it over
to me.

I shrugged off his apparent concern, even managing a smile as I said,
"I wasn't going to need one this big in a few weeks anyway." But my
momentary happiness was quickly diminished as I realized that the
slip of paper I clearly remembered Marita handing me was no longer in
my pocket.

Frohike, ever pragmatic, asked, "Were you able to look at it at all
before you put it in your pocket? Do you have any memory as to what
was on the paper?"

I was near tears as I angrily answered, "It was pitch black out
Frohike! She held out her hand like she wanted to shake my hand and
slipped the paper into my palm. I glanced at it and put it in my
pocket and tried to listen to what she was saying to me."

"When you glanced at it, what did you see?"

"Nothing! That's what I'm trying to tell you!"

Skinner tried another angle. "What did the paper feel like? Did it
feel like it was a post-it note that had been folded stuck, or a
sheet of notebook paper, or good stationery?"

I gritted my teeth and ground out, "It felt like a piece of paper."
Then I stopped. That was wrong. It didn't feel like a piece of paper.
"No. It felt like, like an index card. Only shiny. You know, it had
that almost slippery feel to it, and it was stiff." Leave it to
Skinner to use one of the oldest interrogation techniques on
me--approach the question from multiple angles until something shakes
loose--I realized that it hadn't been quite as dark out as I'd
thought it had been, and that I'd seen and comprehended more in those
few short seconds before the shooting than I thought I had. I, of all
people, should have known that the human memory often worked in the
most unusual ways. "It was shaped oddly. It was like a square or a
rectangle with something like a little point at the end."

The nurse chose that moment to reappear. She looked disapprovingly at
Frohike as she said, "I thought you were just going to take a few
seconds to readjust the bear. I really have to ask both of you to
leave now. The patient needs her rest."

Frohike stroked the top of my head and gave me a small bow as he
backed away. "I'll come back and visit later. After you've had some
more sleep." I smiled wanly at him.

Skinner nodded at me and said, "I'm glad you're feeling better."
There were things that I needed to talk to him about, but I just
wasn't feeling up to it.

They were almost out the door before I remembered one detail about
the card Marita had given me. I called out as loudly as I could
without disturbing any abdominal skin or muscles. "It was a plant
card. My grandmother used to have them. They come with plants. They
tell you how to take care of the plants. One side has a picture of
the plant and its scientific name and the other side has the
instructions on how to care for the plant. She must have written her
information on the side with the instructions, because when I glanced
at it, it was folded with the picture side facing out. It was a
poinsettia."

Skinner ignored the nurse who was trying to push him fully through
the door so that she could close it. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Because while she was still talking and just as I heard the
first bullet, I remember thinking that it was odd that she would have
a card for a poinsettia in the middle of July."

The nurse would tolerate no more of our disobedient behavior and she
closed the door firmly in Skinner's face. At last, I had the solitude
I'd wanted so desperately. Yet, now, alone for less than 30 seconds,
I found that having nothing other than my own thoughts to focus on
was less than enjoyable. My conversation with Skinner and Frohike had
cleared up my memories as to how I'd wound up in the hospital once
again, and I found my mind wandering over in the direction of the
newborn child in my room.

I couldn't yet think of him as *my* son. Even though I'd carried him
within me for 8 months, I could remember only 6 of those months, and
my energies had been focused elsewhere during that time. Unlike the
other expectant mothers that I encountered at my regular doctor's
appointments, my mind wasn't filled with thoughts of buying strollers
and diapers, bottles and toys. I wanted to know who had taken my most
personal longings and so cruelly perverted them. I wanted to find
killers, of people and dreams, and bring them to justice. I had
wanted so many things, most of which, I feared I could never have.
Now I had a child to care for. And I found that I was both terrified
and furious about it. One glimpse of his eyes and I had known that I
would forever see not only Mulder, but myself, and most importantly
*us*, within our son. I was terrified that I might never be able to
forgive my child for being a living reminder of all that lay
unfinished between Mulder and I, and I was furious at those who had
made me feel this way. I was also furious because after six months of
doggedly following covert leads I was no closer to finding any
responsible parties. And I knew needed to find his killer to put both
our souls at ease, that only then, would I be able to even begin to
accept this baby as the miracle that he was. There had been mornings
that I had woken up certain that he'd been speaking to me in my
dreams, urging me on. It was unlike anything I'd experienced with the
death of my father, or Melissa or even Emily. And despite the absence
of any evidence aside from the feelings these dreams left me with, I
was now convinced that my abductions and Mulder's death were closely
intertwined. That was why I had taken the risk of meeting Marita this
last time. It was time to move on with my life, and she was my best
hope, even if she didn't know it.

==========

"Do you think maybe she dropped the card when the shooting started?
If we went back and searched for it..."

Skinner cut him off. "No. I think she put the card in her pocket and
someone at some point removed it. Even if she did drop it in the
alley, it's been cleaned up by now. Whoever did this knew exactly
what they were looking for."

Frohike nodded sadly as he and Skinner walked over to where Byers was
patiently waiting for Frohike to emerge from Scully's room. Frohike
looked at the two men and then asked. "Hey, did you guys notice
how...uninterested Agent Scully seemed in the baby?"

Byers nodded. "I've read that that's not unusual for women who've had
their children born via surgical procedure rather than through
traditional childbirth. They don't get to experience the climax of
the pregnancy and they don't have that sense of accomplishment when
it's over that leads to successful bonding."

Frohike shook his head. "No. It seemed like it was more than that.
Almost like she wished she hadn't gone ahead with it....I wonder if
once she saw the baby, she started worrying that maybe she hadn't
done the right thing. Maybe she's worried that she won't be able to
handle a baby and a job by herself after all. And I mean, he does
look a hell of lot like Mulder, with those eyes and all. Everytime
she looks at him, she must see the ghost of Mulder."

Byers nodded but said, "Perhaps. But Agent Scully is a very capable
woman. And everyone handles emotions differently. Remember, everyone
was worried about her at Mulder's funeral too, but she was fine."

Frohike looked at him skeptically. "Yeah. Fine. As long as you ignore
the fact that for two months afterwards, she threw up everytime
someone mentioned Mulder's name and she nearly bit my head off for
calling her 'Scully'."

Byers nodded thoughtfully, and chose not to remind Frohike that some
unfortunate women did suffer from nausea for more than just the first
trimester of pregnancy.

Skinner didn't respond although he too had been the recipient of a
polite but stern request from her that she be addressed as Dana, Dr.
Scully or Agent Scully, but never just plain Scully. Frohike nudged
him and asked, "What do you think?" just as Langly approached the
trio.

"I assume from the presence of you gentlemen out here in the lobby
that you've already managed to get yourselves kicked out of Agent
Scully's room?"

Frohike shrugged. "Nah. The nurse wanted everyone out so that she
could get some rest before the doctor came to examine her."

Skinner acknowledged the younger man's arrival with a sharp nod of
the head and then turned back to Frohike. "I think that I agree with
Agent Scully that I would like to know why someone had an instruction
card for a poinsettia in the middle of July."

Langly looked at him in confusion. "An instruction card? All you need
to do is wait until most of the red leaves fall off and it looks like
it's dead, then you stick it in a dark closet for ten months. Water
it every now and then. Shortly before Halloween, you start putting it
in the light for a few hours every day. By Thanksgiving, it should be
all red again. At least, that's how my mom always did it."

Frohike's eyes widened. "Holy friggin' cow!" He looked at the three
men before him. "I think the lead Agent Scully got was the card
itself. I think they were trying to tell her that Mulder's not dead."

Skinner shook his head energetically. "Impossible. The autopsy was
performed by a trusted medical examiner. The body was personally
identified not only by me but by his mother. And Agent Scully had an
opportunity to look at the autopsy photos and notes. Which featured
enough little known data about scars and such on Mulder's body that
she was fully satisfied that the man we found was in fact, Agent
Mulder.

But I think you might be onto something when you said that the card
itself is important." He turned to Langly, "You said you have to hide
the plant in a dark closet until shortly before Halloween?"

Langly nodded and Skinner continued. "What if the card was a warning
to Agent Scully. That she needed to go into hiding until after she'd
had the baby. It's July now. Halloween is still three months away. Or
maybe that both she and the baby need to go into hiding until then?
Or maybe that something big is going to happen around Christmastime?"

Frohike huffed in exasperation. "There're a million things that the
card could've meant. Or Agent Scully could be right and maybe there
was something else important written on the other side. Since we
don't know, I think the best thing we can do is get Agent Scully out
of this hospital and out of town as fast as we can. Get her set up
someplace outside of D.C. for a few months. Let her bond with the
baby while we try and figure this out."

Skinner nodded. "I doubt she'll be willing to go far, but do what you
can. In the meantime, I'm going to try and find Ms. Covarrubias. I
have a feeling that she may know a whole lot more than anyone
suspects and that she may be more important to all of this than any
of us thought."

The End

AUTHOR'S NOTES: No, there's no sequel planned. Open endings are all I
know how to do. Resolutions just don't seem to come my way. But if it
makes you feel better, know that when I wrote it, I wrote it with the
belief that yes, Mulder is still alive. I don't know how, or why, but
the Consortium faked his death--they need him alive, but away from
Scully, and they need the baby she's just had. Again, I don't know
why. Sorry. Is Marita important? Who knows. She's just the messenger
for now. Will Scully bond with her new son? Not for quite a
while--everyone will be worried about them before she begins to show
interest in him. And his name is Dylan. Thanks for reading and don't
forget, sending feedback leads to better orgasms.
nikoleaw@aol.com.