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TITLE: Pride and Joy AUTHORS: Andi Dawkins and Devanie Maxwell RATING: PG-13 (mild profanities) CATEGORY: SHR SPOILERS: Anything after all things is fair game. KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully Romance, WilliamFic, Post-Ep SUMMARY: How do you balance domesticity and a career? A G-Couples' guide to love, parenting, and atelectasis.
Georgetown
She returns to work just over a month after William was born. The halls of the Hoover building are the same. Her fellow agents are the same. Even their old office is the same, right down to the I Want to Believe poster and Mulder's alien Pez collection. It's comforting, she thinks as she prepares for her re-entry briefing. After ascending the elevator to the third floor she enters AD Skinner's office. Agents Doggett and Reyes had assembled there with him in order to keep her informed of the most recent events in the department. After six weeks of communicating almost exclusively with an infant it feels refreshing to be back in business attire and in a professional environment. She offers a greeting to her coworkers. Skinner smiles, opens his mouth, and wails. Reyes seems affected by this. There is a flash of relief that someone else sees this as odd. However, before she can comment, Reyes' face turns beet red and she too cries with Skinner. Doggett also lapses into the same behavior, but at the same moment a brightly festooned clown enters the room, effectively entrancing him with balloon animals. Grateful at the distraction, she takes this opportunity to check Skinner's diaper...
She was unamused. Otherwise he was the perfect father. He changed his diapers; he read him stories. William was even treated to tales of his parents' adventures with evil monsters in far off lands. She told Mulder how they were going to be paying for this in his therapy in 20 years. Mulder just called it neonatal occupational training. Potato, potahto. Either way, the three of them had been adjusting well to their new life together. With Mulder being laid off and she herself on maternity leave they had slowly been mastering domesticity. Now, on this Sunday morning, she had only one day until she returned to the bureau. Hence the dreams. Mulder had said they are a result of her self-image having changed because of the baby and her newfound relationship with him. She has evolved, so must her worldview and the interactions with those she perceived as contrary to that new image. Scully dismissed it as a byproduct of her postnatal addiction to green tea. The argument reminded her of their intelligent sparring over cases on the X files. Only not intelligent and without the dire worldwide consequences. Lifting herself out of bed, she padded into the living room. Mulder was sprawled across the couch with their sleeping son curled up on his chest. Both looked content. The volume was low, but apparently the television was tuned to Blue's Clues. Scully knew this was more for Mulder's benefit than William's, as the latter was just now learning how to focus on fixed objects. She ran a hand through his tousled hair before sitting next to them. Leaning into Mulder, she felt him plant a kiss into her hair. "You figured out who did it yet?" she asked, gesturing to the screen as Steve, who was singing the letter song for what seemed like the 50th time this week. "I have no idea, but it's hard to keep track
since you won't let me buy the licensed notebook," Mulder sighed, mock
stricken at the inhumanity of the situation. "Since seven. He
started to fuss so I figured we'd get an early start on the day. I knew
it would be good for you to catch up on some sleep since you go back
tomorrow so I heated a bottle from the fridge and we were ready to
roll. We just took a walk. I brought back some bagels. Real cream
cheese. They're on the counter. No Cocoa Puffs, so don't even
ask. Apparently a trip to the store is in order." Scully
grimaced, partly at the notion of consuming presweetened breakfast
cereal, but mostly as the prospect of grocery shopping with
him. Antarctica was no match for Mulder, a screaming baby,
and produce. That lesson was learned the hard
way.
"Mulder, you don't even like strawberry pop-tarts."
Scully reminded him as she re-shelved his latest contribution
to the cart. "No, they take a couple out, raise the price . . . and two months later add them back for 'free.' Downsizing. You're a sucker for marketing, Mulder." "They're just pop-tarts, Scully. You don't have to be so paranoid." She didn't laugh, but rather dotingly rolled her eyes as she added more canned goods to their selection. "Go ahead. Throw in one more can of green beans. Maybe by the time Will reaches the fifth grade we can use these for his science project. 'Preservatives of the Last Decade and Their Impact of The Worldstate Today.' First prize. Are those your thoughts? Because I have to tell you, eating all these is not a possibility." Will, from his vantage point in the carrier, scrunched his face in agreement with his father. "See, Scully? You've been outvoted." "Just because you get the most votes doesn't mean you win." "Ouch." Mulder winced, already moving on to the cookie aisle. An artfully triangular display of tomato paste narrowly escaped destruction as he weaved the cart back and forth in an attempt to amuse their son. William seemed unimpressed, arching a tiny eyebrow before returning his focus to his right fist. "So, what will it be?" Mulder asked, rounding the corner. "Oreos, Double Stuff Oreos, or the Oreos with the chocolate filling?" Scully's attention was across the aisle, however, on the nefarious "B" section of the snack food aisle. Across from the cookies, brownies, and Swiss Cake Rolls. Where evil resides in the auspices of Vegetable Thins and reduced fat wheat crackers. "How about something like this?" she offered, holding up a very healthy looking box of multicolored wafers shaped like little carrots, peppers, and most frighteningly, heads of broccoli. Mulder simply stared with an expression not too unlike someone who has just been offered mucus as a viable breakfast alternative. "Double Stuff Oreos it is." Starting to wheel the cart away, he stopped, studied the shelf, and added a package of Reduced Fat Oreos. Because relationships are all about the
compromises.
"Caddyshack II, Mulder?" "Well, we saw the original the week before...and I figured waiting more than a year to see the sequel would be cruel and unusual indeed." Scully smiled, grateful to be sharing in this moment with him. The meaning of his choice of video was not lost on her. It had been a long, hard trip getting here, but things were getting back to normal. As normal as it could be considering a year ago Mulder was still an agent, she was still infertile, and they were still very not together. In that sense. Now, Mulder stayed at home building baby furniture for their month old son and they shared a joint checking account and a bed. Yes, it's been quite a year. William napped throughout most of the movie while Mulder and Scully watched in content silence. He occasionally snorted and she occasionally rolled her eyes. Just like the first Caddyshack. After the film ended they prepared for bed. Scully laid out her suit for her return to work. She and Mulder had discussed the subject at length. Both decided it was best if she returned. Her maternity leave ended so it was now or never in terms of her status. The work was still important to them and since fired agents are not looked upon fondly at the office that left Scully to continue. Mulder had looked into teaching at local colleges, but for now he was content to watch Nickelodeon Jr. and put together little star and moon mobiles. Now, crawling into bed next to an already catatonic Mulder, Scully hoped for a solid night's sleep so she could get through what would undoubtedly be an interesting day. William had been sound asleep after she fed and changed him a short time ago. Hopefully the night would hold few interruptions. Will, sensing the importance of this, wailed on the hour, every hour. And of
course, Mulder was oblivious.
7:52 AM Despite her baby-induced sleep deprivation, Scully felt remarkably refreshed. Even the 7:00 AM Washington DC traffic, arguably the worst traffic in the entire country, didn't seem to bother her. For the first time in ages, she was actually excited to attire herself with hose and a tailored suit. And not just because she had an audience on this particular day (although it certainly didn't hurt). Today Dana Scully was the girl with everything. As she approached the
entrance to the Hoover building, all the remaining nervousness she had
felt about returning to work left her. Even though Mulder couldn't be
there with her, she wasn't searching the sky for him either. He will be
at home with their son, waiting for her to return. This morning,
Doggett will undoubtedly have a case ready to show her. It will be in
the matter of unknown sticky, wet, viscous substances that glow in the
dark and which are great threats to the people of Grand Forks, This is what I was meant to be, she
thinks. "Agent Scully!" Doggett stood and beamed at her from behind Mulder's desk. Or simply: the desk. She returned his smile and took a look around. She was surprised to see that the office had remained completely intact. Not one 8x10 glossy of Bigfoot had been removed. She hoped it wasn't a result of her attitude about the place when Mulder went missing. "Good morning! How have you been? How have the X-Files been treating you?" she asked, genuinely curious. "Oh, you know. Weird, scary stuff. Putting your ass on the line. Explaining to normal people why they should believe you're still normal. The usual." Scully smiled, "Personally, I gave up on that one long ago. It's harder than the work itself, really." "Yeah . . . so how is Will doing?" "He's wonderful. You should stop by and see him sometime." Doggett seemed absurdly pleased by this, and said, "Thanks, I will." After a brief but awkward silence, Scully sat down and hauled her bag onto the adjacent chair. "It looks like I brought back more than I took home, but really it's just my computer and some papers I'll need for reinstatement," she explained. "Speaking of which, when is your appointment?" "Oh, I've got a few minutes before I need to leave. Why? What have you got for me?" Doggett turned the file he was working on around, and pushed it toward her. "Three deaths in one week, all from progressive massive fibrosis, or more specifically Coal workers pneumoconiosis," he added, although there was no need. "What is so strange about that? Millions of people suffer from occupational diseases everyday. Other than the fact that it's not normally deadly . . . " "Well, all three were healthy people in their early twenties. They weren't coal workers or smokers, or really anything that would cause their lungs to fill up with massive amounts of dust. There were no prior indications that their lungs were anything but a hundred percent healthy, however . . . their autopsy results show the lungs of a coal worker of seventy years. And unlike most people who suffer from pneumoconiosis, they died from asphyxia instead of a resulting complication from the disease." "Hmm. It sounds like this doctor just did these autopsies wrong. You see here where it talks about atelectasis at the time of death?" Scully indicated where she was on the report, and discovered that Doggett's attention had shifted. Following his gaze, she realized why. Her ring. A faint blush crept to her face as she casually shifted her hand off the desk, quickly finding the file fascinating. "Atelectasis was indeed present in all the victims during the post-mortems, indicating that..." Scully's voice trailed off, silenced by the feeling that while she had moved on from Doggett's observation, he apparently had not. Looking up from the folder she confirmed this, taking in his amused gaze. It was the same look he gave her on cases when her theory dealt with anything vaguely out of the ordinary. She hated that look. She stared back, ready to tell him so, when he spoke first. "So. It looks like your vacation has been even busier than I thought, Agent Scully," he stated, taking obvious enjoyment from her evasive maneuver. "Was it a small affair or did my invitation get lost in the mail?" She eyed Doggett. "Mulder,William, and myself. Elvis served as Justice of the Peace. It was lovely," she added, maintaining a straight face. She was spared by a ringing phone, Doggett moving around the desk to answer it. Before picking up the receiver he placed a hand on Scully's shoulder. "Congratulations." Scully smiled in return. As Doggett sat down to take his call she gestured towards the door and pointed at her watch. Doggett placed his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. "I'll catch up with you later, okay?" "Come over at one point. You're always welcome. "Will do." Scully, pleased to have that conversation behind her, made her way to the elevator. Stepping in, she slipped her keycard into the slot and pressed the button for the fourth floor. The key access was a recent development. Since that level of the building was primarily executive offices, those in charge had found it necessary to further restrict accessibility to upper floors. It made sense, Scully observed wryly. It was seemingly a refuge for every murderer, conspiracist, and alien hybrid in the greater DC area. Not to mention the horrors seen by the Bureau parking garage. The paint is probably still drying from the cleanup of last month's bloodbath. The elevator doors slid open and she exited into the hall leading to Skinner's office. Several agents standing nearby gave her cursory glances as she passed. She gave a short nod in return and rounded the corner into the waiting area. "It's nice to see you back, Agent Scully. The AD has been expecting you. I'll just buzz him..." Kimberly stated politely to Scully's back as she walked through the door to the inner office. The assistant simply sighed and returned to her records. Inside Skinner was at his computer. Hearing the door, he quickly minimized whatever had been on his desktop. Probably porn, Scully thought irrationally but not without amusement. Domestic life had made her punchy. "Scully, welcome back." Skinner stood and quickly approached her, taking her right hand in both of his and shaking it in warm welcome. Scully rewarded him with a wide smile. "It's nice to be back. Thank you." She took a seat across from his chair and he quickly followed suit. "I know you're anxious to get back to work, so I'll get right to it," Skinner said, handing her a folder that she could only assume contained her forms for reinstatement. "Just fill these out and send them through interdepartmental mail back to my assistant. I'll make sure they get to the necessary people." "I appreciate it, sir." Scully stood up, gathering the files. Grasping them awkwardly in her right hand, she reached with her left to shake his. Walking to the door, she turned midstride. "Things are finally settling down. Why don't you join us for dinner tonight? Around seven?" "I'd like that." Scully smiled lightly and began to turn the knob. "And Agent Scully." "Yes?" "I see congratulations are in order." Scully winced. So much for low profile. "Thank you,
sir."
Scully's
Apartment "Your mom is going to LOVE this." Mulder stepped back to admire his handiwork. In a departure from his normal behavior, he had spent all day preparing for this celebration dinner. And that was with take-out instead of cooking. Not just any take-out, though. Lobster, filet mignon, garlic potatoes, and a $150 bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon from this romantic restaurant in Georgetown located inside an old church. Their dinner was arranged carefully on the kitchen table, still warm. A crystal vase displayed a single yellow rose, surrounded by a white candle on each side. Soft music was emitting from the speakers in the living room, and the lights were dimmed. Such things were uncharacteristic for the apartment, but not an unwelcome change. Sometimes he forgot that he could make romantic gestures now. He would have to do this more often. Mulder took one of the roses from coffee table and started fidgeting. There were eleven more in front of him, and to the left of the flowers dark chocolate fondue was set up with strawberries and cheesecake. He idly wondered if they would make it to dessert tonight. <First, Scully has to get home. What's taking so long?> As if on cue, he heard the deadbolt turn behind him and he rushed to the door. "Hi, sorry I'm late." Reaching up for a kiss, Scully stopped short. Mulder was holding a rose for her, and was dressed in a black turtleneck. He knew her weakness for that shirt. She grinned and was starting to thank him when she noticed her surroundings. Candle light, music, wine? She was simultaneously thrilled and devastated. "Welcome home," he
told her. She rewarded him with a kiss, and wrapped her arms around his
waist. With her face buried in Mulder's chest, she
contemplated what to do. In the hall she had set down several
bags of groceries for their dinner with Skinner in oh, say "What's wrong?" he
murmured into her hair. "But?" "But . . . will that lobster keep?" she asked apologetically as she reached over and turned on the lights. "What?" Mulder was clearly confused and more than a little distressed. "This is a complete surprise - and I wasn't expecting it," she added redundantly. "And you see, this morning I went to my appointment for reinstatement. With Skinner, who we haven't seen since Will was born . . . " Mulder gestured for her to finish. "So I sort of invited him to dinner." "Tonight??" "Uh. Yes, tonight. Mulder, I'm so sorry." "Can't you call and reschedule?" "Reschedule, Mulder? It isn't a meeting; I invited the man to dinner! If I cancel, in all likelihood he's not going to ever come again." "So?" Mulder put his hands on his hips and didn't meet her eyes. Scully took his hand in hers and tried to placate. "Mulder. You know that I want to spend this evening with you more than anything in the world. And we will continue this either later tonight . . . or tomorrow night. Or sometime. I promise. But right now I only have forty-five minutes to bake chicken and cook some green beans. We will play nice for a few hours, then I'm all yours. Okay? Okay, Mulder?" He still wouldn't look at her. "I really am sorry, you know." "I know. It's not your fault." "Don't be disappointed. I promise I'll make it up to you." "Oh yeah? And how do
you plan on doing that, exactly?" Mulder leered at her, and she knew
all was forgiven. "Tease."
They made short work of the dinner preparations; Scully taking on the task of the unpacking, cooking, and presentation of the food while Mulder set about such necessitated tasks as opening the microwave door and shouting the occasional 'That smells great!' from the couch. From the kitchen Scully could see it was a basketball game, the sound muted so he could deliver his own play-by-play to his son. William, nonplussed, gazed in rapt fascination at the ceiling fan. Scully empathized, learning early that sometimes when Mulder went off on a tangent you just have to make your own fun. Pulling the hot pan of chicken from the oven, she realized she had nowhere to put it. "Mulder." No response came, as he had probably not heard her over his 'Thomas goes up for the rebound, he shoots, he scores!' complete with a mimed cheer on Will's behalf, who seemed rather perplexed for a one month old. Scully normally would find this display very amusing, if not for the searing pain radiating through her hand. The heat was coming through the oven mitt, becoming increasingly uncomfortable. "Mulder!" she shouted perkily, finally catching his attention. "Can you please clear the candles and flowers from the table? It's not very Skinner appropriate and I would like to set this down before losing the skin off my RIGHT HAND!" Mulder rose into action, setting William down gently into his carrier and almost leaping over the back of the sofa in order to come to Scully's aid. Returning the now extinguished candles to the cabinet, he reached around and grabbed the nearly intact bouquet of roses just in time for Scully to race across the kitchen and almost throw the chicken on to the table. He was about to solicitously ask about her hand when the doorbell rang. Scully, now rinsing it under cool water, gave him a pointed, questioning look while nodding at the door. Their optical communication at home was no less effective than that in the field, but the former had an intimidation factor that was not to be underestimated. Mulder grimaced and walked briskly to the door. Checking the peephole for confirmation he swung it open to reveal Skinner in a cotton blue button down shirt and khakis. Mulder opened his mouth to welcome in his former boss, but Skinner spoke first. "Are those for me, Mulder? You shouldn't have." Skinner smirked. Mulder, confused, heard Scully let out a snort in the kitchen. Looking down, he realized he was still holding the eleven yellow roses. In his haste to answer the door he hadn't set them down. Now, from Scully's angle, he stood dressed in his come hither turtleneck bearing flowers for the Assistant Director. "I've been looking forward to your visit," Mulder responded, a slight leer to his voice. Both men smiled and shook hands. Mulder gestured him into the living room, where immediately the focus of attention was the baby. "His hair is darker than the last time I saw him." Skinner noticed, lowering his voice as not to wake the now sleeping infant. "It's my obviously dominant and superior genes." "He has quite a little pug nose there." "That's all Scully." As if on cue she appeared, emerging from the bedroom in jeans and a shell pink V-necked sweater. Her hair was pulled back in a twist, completing the transformation from the obvious Federal Agent look of just a few moments ago. Mulder gave her a look of appreciation as she crossed the room to greet Skinner with a brief hug. That was an aspect of their relationship Mulder hadn't seen, and he wondered if it was something that stemmed from the period he spent in a coffin. He found himself attributing a lot to that time. Rationalization is easier if you have a span of time where you've been dead. He'd make sure to put that in his book right next to "Top Ten Reasons that Embalming is a BAD idea." Scully stood back and gestured to the table. "Why don't you both have a seat? I'm just going to see if I can get Will down to sleep before we eat. Hopefully it won't be more than ten minutes or so." Mulder led the way to the dining area, still ruminating over the loss of his first truly romantic dinner with Scully. They were married with a baby and hadn't had anything close to a date since their trip to Los Angeles for the Lazarus Bowl premiere. The honeymoon was on standby until William was a little bit older. Their post-wedding dinner came from the McDonalds' drive thru on the way back from the District. Just like many other trips home, only now they were married with a two-week-old infant in the back seat. It wasn't the most traditional of nuptials, but they never had the most traditional of relationships. The fact they were able to get through it without any deaths, abductions, explosions, or swarms of locusts was enough to make it a success. There had been no question after the birth of their son that they would take the next step. The events of the last few months had gone a long way to illustrate to each of them how very necessary the other was in their life. It had always been clear in some ways, but as a defense mechanism they could always ground their need for each other in the work they shared. It was only after the events of the previous spring that the last barriers began to fall. Now that same need was based in the personal. The last year had been hard for both of them, Mulder thought, but particularly Scully as of late. He found himself really wanting to be with her right then. That wasn't possible, of course, because she had invited a guest to his well-orchestrated candlelit dinner. He liked Skinner, but he needed to leave. Smiling at his former superior, he quickly dished out portions of the chicken, rice, and vegetables to his plate. "We might as well get started, Sir. I would hate for this to get cold." Mulder slid the plate back to the AD, jerking his head toward the fork and cloth napkin next to his left hand. Skinner gave him an inscrutable look. "What about Scully?" "I'm sure she'll be along. I know she wasn't feeling well earlier. I'm sure she wouldn't want us to put off the meal on her behalf." Skinner stared at Mulder. "Is she okay? She seemed fine earlier at work. She was at several meetings. She seemed fine a moment ago." Mulder shook his head solemnly. "She's such a trooper. What a game face. She's been quite ill for the last several days. Vomiting, stomach cramps, dizzy spells. It must be evolving into something else because when she was preparing dinner earlier I heard a lot of coughing and sneezing. Sounded like she was hacking up a lung. I offered to come in and help, but she just kept cutting that chicken. I give her a lot of credit." Skinner stopped his fork midway on its ascent to his mouth; the piece of chicken dangling limply. He nonchalantly rested the utensil back on the china. "That's terrible, Mulder. It must have been rough on her to go to this trouble. Perhaps it would be better to come back another evening?" "No, I'm sure Scully has been looking forward to this. She even mumbled something about it before she passed out on the couch after work. Her fever seems to have broken now, at least. I know she hasn't thrown up in at least two hours. Please, stay." "I think it would be better if we postponed this." "Okay." Mulder stood up and walked briskly to the door. Skinner followed, looking a bit disconcerted. At that moment Scully made her reappearance from the bedroom, a look of confusion on her face. She glanced at the table. "Sir? Is everything okay? You haven't touched dinner," she observed, looking slightly hurt. "I'm fine, Scully. Why don't you get some rest." He smiled piteously at her, then added "Feel better. Take all the time..." "That's nice of you." Mulder spoke loudly, cutting off the Assistant Director in mid sentence. "We'll have to do this another time." Without another word Skinner was ushered into the hallway and the door was closed firmly behind him. Mulder turned around slowly to confront a very perplexed and vaguely irritated Scully. "Mulder, what was that all about?" "Skinner thought you could use some rest." "How did he come to that conclusion?" she asked, a tone of suspicion creeping into her voice. "I have no clue." Mulder stated cheerfully, not meeting her eyes. Will chicken keep?" He continued walking to the kitchen, pulling out the meal he had intended to serve before the distraction of before. "Help me clear the table?" "Mulder." Scully mono-worded, trying with some success to hide the look of amusement threatening to overcome her currently annoyed expression. She was beginning to understand exactly what was going on. Mulder had concocted some excuse to get Skinner out of the apartment so he could get his way about their dinner plans. Part of her found that incredibly endearing, while another wondered what the excuse was. That was always the complicated part. She opened her mouth to ask that very question when she noticed the candles and flowers had returned to their previous positions on the table. The smells emanating from the kitchen told her dinner was warming. Mulder was approaching, managing to look reproachful and intense at the same time. Her questions could wait. His eyes never broke from her face as he closed the distance and raised his hand, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He grazed his thumb across her chin, tilting her head up. His lips inched closer to hers. Scully reached up to close the distance. There was passion. There was intensity. There was... a doorbell ringing. Scully
grimaced, more because of Mulder than the interruption. Scully rolled her eyes, but otherwise didn't acknowledge him. When used for evil, that pout had the power to prepossess. "Who is it?" Mulder asked as she reached the peephole. "Agent Doggett." Scully whispered harshly. "I told him to stop by sometime! I didn't know he'd come over tonight!" Mulder put his hands on his hips, and looked up. He was either counting to ten, or had developed Will's fascination with the ceiling fan. He liked Doggett. He respected the guy. Trusted him, even. But he sure picked a hell of a night to visit. <How do you catch a break around here?> The doorbell sounded again. "Scully. Okay. I want you to think back. Are you thinking? Now, how many people did you invite over? This is very important." "Mulder!" Scully shot him a look of warning, and opened the door. She had a great big smile ready, while Mulder stood behind her with his neutral-at-best face on. Neither of them expected to find a single plant staring back at them, however. "We had a case where a man turned into a plant once. Idaho if I remember correctly. Some sort of blue green bacterium caused it, remember? You did the autopsy. Awful smell." Mulder commented to himself. Scully was out in the hall. "Agent Doggett!" she
called down the stairwell. "Really? What's it say?" Scully shut the door and plopped down in the sofa next to Will's bassinet. He was sleeping like a baby. Naturally. "It says, `Just wanted to offer Congratulations all around. You know where to find me, Doggett.' A real poet, isn't he?" "That is so nice! I can't believe we missed him. I wonder if he heard us talkin-" Scully took a closer look at the gift in his hands. "Mulder. Is that plant . . . is it plastic?" "Looks like silk." "He brought a fake plant?" "What's wrong with that? It never dies, always stays
green, and doesn't require food. What more could an FBI agent
and new mother want from a gift? Just dust it every month or
so and presto: plant for life. They're expensive
too." "What was that?" Mulder set down the plant and headed for the couch. "What did you say?" "I didn't say a thing." "I think you did." As he advanced on her, she backed to the corner of the sofa and managed to contain her smirk. She let out a yelp of surprise as he pounced and tickled her stomach. He kissed her mouth, even as she laughed. Being this way
with Mulder made her feel immeasurably free and safe. It was
unlike anything she had ever known. She would have to tell him that
soon. But for now . . . End. We LOOOVE Feedback: UberScully@aol.com, allthingsMSR@msn.com |