Summary: Skinner sends Doggett and Reyes on a case that will have a profound effect on the lives of Scully and Mulder.

Author's Note: FabulousMonster started out as a Beta and ended up a Collaborator. She deserves kudos for both. Kudos also to our other betas, advisors, and cheerleaders: EnigmaticDoctor, Philiater, and Cathgerm.
The rest of our fanfic can be found at:
http://www.keleka.net
and
http://www.fran58.net/authorspgs/fabmon/fabmon.htm

THIS STORY WAS AN EPISODE IN A VIRTUAL SEASON 10 THAT ASSUMED "THE TRUTH" NEVER HAPPENED. (IF ONLY IT HADN'T!)

Restitution, n. 1. Return or restoration of some specific thing to its rightful owner or status. 2. Compensation for benefits derived from a wrong done to another. 3. Compensation or reparation for the loss caused to another. Black's Law Dictionary, 7th Edition.

Teaser

What's a nice Jewish boy from Chicago doing in Wyoming?

That thought raced through Jerry Harris's mind as he sped past the state line into 'The Cowboy State.' The large 'Welcome to Wyoming!' sign jarred him from his highway hypnosis. He sat up straighter and looked around. There hadn't been much to see since he left Fort Collins and headed north on Interstate 25, but he expected things to pick up as he approached Cheyenne.

He reached again for the directions he'd scribbled down during the phone call. 'North on 25 to Cheyenne. Stay on 25 North and take the State Road 211 exit, going west. Go twenty miles until you see the red barn on the left side of the road. Turn left at the barn and follow the trail a mile to the house.' He had a feeling he was about to discover the true meaning of 'in the sticks.' He half expected to find sheep in the front yard.

The phone call had been an unexpected voice from the past. It was Junie Johnson, one of his favorite students back when he'd first joined the faculty at Colorado State University over a decade ago. She was a nursing major, but she'd minored in psychology and taken several of his classes. She was bright and inquisitive, unlike so many of his students, who were just filling seats. She'd kept in touch after graduation and invited him to her wedding two years later, but he'd been out of town and unable to go. She'd written him several times after that, but he hadn't heard from her in years. Until yesterday.

She'd sounded so upset on the phone that he'd agreed without hesitating to visit that weekend. Strange things were happening in her home, she'd said. Things no one could explain. She remembered some conversations they'd had about parapsychology. Would he come investigate? He was hardly a paranormal investigator, he'd reminded her, but he'd be happy to come look around. He liked to think of himself as an open-minded skeptic. His field of expertise was 'Consciousness Studies,' and he'd learned over the years that the mind was a trickster. There was probably a simple explanation for whatever was happening at Junie's house.

The scenery sped by as he thought about Junie's call. Cheyenne, the state capital, was a mere blink of the eye compared to Chicago, and soon he was pulling onto State Road 211. The Laramie Mountains loomed not far off in the distance, separating Cheyenne from Laramie. The beauty of the mountains still stunned him, even after all these years. The city boy in him always thought of them as 'God's Skyscrapers.'

At the end of the lane, he reached a modest white ranch house. He wondered whether the two-story addition to the house was recent as he pulled up to the adjacent garage. When he got out of his car, a chill wind made him pull his coat tighter around him. The temperature was ten degrees cooler than in Colorado. He stretched to relieve the stiffness in his back and looked around.

He'd never been on a farm before. God, he was almost ashamed to admit it.

"Baahh, baahh."

What the hell was that? He approached the fence that surrounded the house and peeked over. Three plump sheep were grazing near the house. He smiled to himself at the irony--he hadn't *really* expected there to be sheep in the front yard. Just then the front door opened and he heard his name being called.

"Dr. Harris!"

Jerry smiled and waved at Junie, who was standing in the doorway. He fumbled with the gate latch and entered the yard. Two of the sheep gamboled up to him, nuzzling his hands. He looked at Junie and laughed and tried to keep walking through their insistent attention.

"Faith! Hope! Leave him alone. He doesn't have any food for you. Shoo! Shoo!" Junie called out, waving her hand at the sheep. They trotted away, bleating softly.

When he reached the door, they hugged a little awkwardly. Jerry held her at arm's length and looked at her, smiling genuinely. "Little Junie Johnson," he said. "You look wonderful!"

Junie blushed and looked away for a moment. "It's 'Van de Kamp' now, Dr. Harris." She stepped aside and motioned him to enter.

"The first thing we have to do is stop that 'Dr. Harris' nonsense," he said. "It's Jerry."

She smiled at him, pleased, then took his hand and led through the house, into the kitchen. A small boy, a toddler, sat on the floor in one corner, playing with blocks. Little Junie was a mother, he marveled. It saddened him that he had missed so much in her life. He vowed to do a better job of keeping in touch with his favorite students after they graduated.

"Jerry," she said, a little shyly, and then pointed toward the kitchen table. "Won't you have a--"

Before she finished, one of the kitchen chairs suddenly pulled out from the table. Jerry felt his heartbeat quicken in surprise. He looked at Junie and saw a strange sort of relief on her face.

"I was afraid nothing would happen while you were here and you'd leave thinking I was crazy. I'm not sure whether to be relieved or scared."

Scared definitely, Jerry thought. "Is that what you were talking about on the phone?" He gestured toward the chair. "That sort of thing?"

Junie nodded, and Jerry could see tears filling her eyes. He wondered what other things she had seen. He avoided the chair, pulled out another one, and sat down. "Has anything bad happened? Anything malevolent?"

Junie coughed to relieve the tightness in her voice. "No. Nothing malevolent, really. Just....Just...." She stopped and looked toward the kitchen counter where a pot of coffee was perking.

"Would you like some--"

Suddenly, one of the cupboards opened and a coffee mug floated out from its place. It paused for a moment then slowly glided through the air to land gently on the table in front of Jerry.

"Oh my God," he whispered. He heard Junie break out into a sob and begin to cry. He jumped to his feet and took her in his arms, trying to calm her with gentle reassurances. He didn't know what was going on, but so far it didn't appear to be threatening. If anything, it was downright hospitable.

After a moment, Junie stopped crying, but she still clung to him. He patted her back gently and looked over her shoulder. The little boy was watching them curiously, holding a square block in one hand and waving it back and forth as if conducting an orchestra.

"You have a little boy," Jerry said after a moment, hoping a change of subject would help Junie gather her wits about her.

It seemed to work, as Junie pulled back and dabbed at her eyes with a hanky she pulled from her apron. She looked at the little boy, her eyes glowing with pride. "Yes, yes," she said. They both turned to where the boy was still watching them with wide, intelligent eyes. "He's almost two years old." She stepped toward the boy and he held up his arms, smiling broadly. She picked him up and set him on her hip and then turned.

"Jerry, this is my son, William."

Act One

"Sheep in the front yard?"

John Doggett paused before entering his basement office when he overheard Monica Reyes's words. Leaning against the door jam, he regarded her thoughtfully as he tucked the file he was reading under his arm and munched on the donut in his right hand. Monica stood bent over his desk, head cocked to one side to hold the phone to her ear, hastily scribbling some notes on a pad of paper. How did she get back from lunch so fast? he wondered.

Doggett dropped the file on his desk and dropped himself into a chair to concentrate on his donut.

"Yes. Yes. We'll meet you there tomorrow morning, Dr. Harris. Thank you for calling." She hung up the phone and then looked at Doggett, a mischievous smile already beginning to play about her lips.

"Where we going?" Doggett asked and then popped the last piece of donut into his mouth.

Monica pulled the swivel chair out and sat down before answering.

"Wyoming."

"Huh?"

"Wyoming."

"I heard you the first time, Monica," Doggett said, his words mumbled a bit as he struggled to swallow the donut. "On whose authority?"

"Skinner's."

She was enjoying this, he knew. She liked knowing what he didn't and making him work to find out. It was annoying. Exasperating. Confounding. And he loved her for it. It wasn't like when he first started working with Dana Scully and she made getting every piece of information as difficult as pulling a tooth. Monica wasn't trying to hide anything; she was teasing him. And he enjoyed playing along.

"What the hell for?" he blurted out, pretending to be irritated. "Big Foot? UFOs? The reincarnated spirit of Montezuma?"

Monica laughed. "Close, John." She stood and walked to the other side of the room to gather her things. "Come on. We have to catch a plane to Denver in three hours, and first we have to go home and pack. I'll tell you about it on the way."

Doggett grumbled something about not getting paid enough, but pulled his trench coat off the coat rack, grabbed his briefcase, and followed Monica out the door.

By the time Doggett and Reyes arrived in Denver and picked up their rental car, it was nearly 9 p.m. eastern time and neither felt like driving far. They stopped for dinner and then checked in at a motel just north of Denver.

Doggett had just showered and pulled on his gray sweat pants when he heard the soft knock on his door.

"I don't know why we have to have separate rooms," Monica complained when he opened the door for her to enter. He pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her still-damp hair.

"Mulder and Scully always had separate rooms," he said, pulling away. "I've seen their expense reports." He crossed to the back of the room and reached inside the bathroom door to turn off the light and fan.

"Mulder and Scully were incredibly secretive, John," Monica countered. "Even paranoid. We aren't."

John shot her a look. "We aren't?"

Monica laughed. She slipped off her bathrobe and pulled back the covers on her side of the double bed. "No, John, we aren't. It's no secret how we feel about each other." She slipped under the sheets and propped up on one elbow to watch Doggett root through his suitcase for his faded USMC t-shirt.

Doggett pulled the t-shirt from the suitcase and slipped it over his head. "I just don't think it would be a good idea for Skinner to find out that we're...uh..." He waved his hands back and forth between them, indicating their current situation.

"Sleeping together?" Monica finished for him. He nodded. "Skinner already knows, John. He doesn't care."

Doggett froze with the sheets in one hand and one foot on the bed. "He knows? Jesus, Moni. How the hell does--"

"He's not stupid, John. And he's been through this before. There must be something about working together on the X-Files...." She waited for him to respond. When he didn't, she said, "Come on, John. It's cold in here all by myself. Warm me up."

Finally Doggett relented and slid under the covers. "If he has a problem with it, he should just ask me. Ya know. Guy to guy."

Monica laughed and put her arms around Doggett. "You worry too much, John."

"Yeah." Doggett knew she was right. He worried too much. He was too suspicious. Too distrusting. But he couldn't get over the niggling feeling that something was wrong, that they were about to step into something outside the realm of ordinary police work. If he told Monica he felt this way, she'd take it too seriously. She had this totally unfounded belief that he had psychic abilities of his own. It was all pure poppycock if you asked him, but he couldn't deny some of the bizarre things he'd seen since starting work on the X-Files.

"This professor we're meeting tomorrow...." he began.

"Mmmm?"

"You said he teaches psychology."

"Yes."

"His specialty is 'Consciousness Studies'?"

"Yes."

"What is that, exactly?" He could tell Monica was drifting off. It always amazed him how quickly she could fall asleep. She didn't lie in bed and ponder things the way he did.

"The rational investigation of the mysteries of human awareness," she mumbled.

"Sounds like b--"

"Go to sleep, John."

Doggett chuckled and reached above them to turn off the lamp before cozying up close to Monica.

"Yes, dear."

The black SUV pulled out of an unlit area at the back of the Motel parking lot. Slowly, it made it's way through the lot until it was behind the rented Ford Taurus parking outside John Doggett's room. The dark figure behind the wheel watched the room's window. After a moment, the room's light went out and the SUV drove off silently.

"I guess this is the place," Doggett said when he pulled the rental car up in front of the white-washed garage and cut the motor.

"Any sheep in the front yard?" Monica asked with a hint of humor.

Doggett rolled his eyes. Monica was enjoying this entirely too much. He climbed out of the car, pulled off his sun glasses, and looked around. A white SUV was parked in the garage. 'Van de Kamp Veterinary Clinic' was printed on its back door in bold, blue lettering. There wasn't another house in sight.

By the time Doggett had finished surveying the area, Monica had gotten out of the car and was leaning over the front gate.

"Oh, John! They're so cute!" She unlatched the gate and entered the yard. Three sheep immediately ran up to her and began nuzzling her hands, looking for food. "Just a second," she said to the sheep. "I've got something for you." She reached into her jacket and pulled out a granola bar.

"What are you doing, Monica?" Doggett asked with a hint of annoyance.

"I bought them a granola bar when we stopped for gas," she said, smiling broadly. "Sheep love granola bars."

Doggett shook his head. "Monica, you grew up in the world's largest city. Your father is a banker. How do you know what sheep like?"

Monica laughed and quickly unwrapped the bar. She broke it into three pieces and handed each sheep a piece. "You'd be surprised what I know about sheep," she said. "That one," she pointed to the large black sheep, "is a Suffolk. Those two," she pointed to the smaller white sheep with the naturally short tails, "are Shetlands. They're my favorite."

Monica was briefing Doggett on some of the finer points of Shetland sheep when the front door to the house opened and a woman stepped out.

"You must be the FBI agents Jerry told me to expect," she said, drying her hands on her apron. "I'm Junie Van de Kamp."

Doggett and Reyes both reached for their badges and held them up for Junie to see. "Yes, ma'am," Doggett said. "I'm Special Agent John Doggett. This is Special Agent Monica Reyes."

Junie nodded and smiled. "I'm sorry about the sheep," she said. "They're spoiled rotten."

"I think they're beautiful, Mrs. Van de Kamp. Do you have others?" Monica asked as she and Doggett followed Junie into the house.

"Not anymore," Junie said, motioning the agents to the sofa and taking an armchair herself. "My husband used to breed Shetlands, but he's been too busy the last couple years. Faith, Hope, and Charity are pets. And lawnmowers."

"Faith, Hope, and Charity," Doggett mumbled, chuckling.

"Dr. Harris called about an hour ago. He should be here shortly," Junie volunteered. Her hands were in her lap, her right hand nervously twisting her wedding ring.

"Dr. Harris told me you've had a rash of unusual events in the house in the last few months," Monica said, smiling to put Junie at ease. Junie nodded. "Perhaps you could tell us about some of the things that have happened while we wait."

Doggett and Reyes listened attentively for several minutes as Junie described some of the strange occurrences she witnessed. When she finished, she studied their faces, trying to gauge their reactions.

"I know it sounds crazy--"

"We've seen stranger things, Mrs. Van de Kamp," Monica interrupted. There was a vibrancy about Monica that was infectious. John could feel it and he could tell it had an immediate effect on Junie. Her nervousness melted away as soon as she knew she wouldn't be ridiculed for what she saw.

"You have? Oh, my."

"What about your husband?" Doggett asked. "Has he seen anything?"

"Yes, frequently. And..." Junie's voice faded and she lowered her eyes.

"And what, Mrs. Van de Kamp?" Monica prodded.

Junie exhaled deeply and then looked intently at Monica. "He says he's seen some things at the clinic too." At Monica's puzzled look, she explained, "He's a veterinarian. His clinic is on the outskirts of Laramie."

"Is your husband home, Mrs. Van de Kamp?" Doggett asked.

Junie nodded. "He's upstairs with our son. I'll call him."

While Junie was out of the room, Monica reached for Doggett's hand and squeezed it gently. "Don't worry, John," she whispered. "Sounds like a friendly spirit."

Doggett rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe Skinner had approved the 302 on this case. More than just approved it, he had specifically sent them on the case. Suddenly Doggett felt a cold chill go up his spine. Something was wrong.

Junie's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Agent Doggett, Agent Reyes, this is my husband, Ted, and my son--"

"William!" Monica gasped. Her grip on Doggett's hand was crushing. He tried to disengage his hand from hers.

"How did you know my son's name?" Junie's voice drew Doggett away from Monica and he looked for the first time at Ted Van de Kamp and the little boy standing in front of him holding his hands. He turned back to Monica.

"William?" Doggett said in a hushed whisper. "*Our* William?" Monica nodded. "You're sure?"

"Dammit, John. I delivered him. I ought to recognize him!" Monica snapped, then quickly recovered her poise. She stood and walked toward William, but Junie stepped between them, suddenly on the defensive.

"What do you mean you 'delivered' him?" she asked. "Oh my God. He's not.... You're not his...." She covered her hand with her mouth, he eyes wide in horror.

Doggett stood and took Monica by the arm. He pulled her toward the front door, opened it, and pushed her through to the outside. He paused to look back at the Van de Kamps and said "I'll be right back." Outside, he pulled Monica out the gate until they reached their rental car.

"What the hell was that, Monica?" he barked. "Do you have any idea--"

"I'm sorry!" Monica exclaimed, interrupting Doggett before he could gather up steam. "I was surprised. I lost it for a moment. I'm fine now."

Doggett exhaled in exasperation. He turned and looked back at the house. Junie Van de Kamp was watching them through the living room window, tears streaming down her face. "Look at that," he said to Monica, nodding toward Junie. "That woman thinks you're William's mother. She probably--"

"At least we can tell her what's causing all the strange things happening in her house," Monica said.

Her statement stopped Doggett cold. William had his powers back--or had never lost them--and now they were getting stronger. He rubbed his hand over his face and then through his hair. "Jesus," he said.

"And that's not all," Monica continued. Doggett looked at her, his eyes filled with trepidation. "Based on what Mrs. Van de Kamp told us, I'd guess he can read minds, too."

Doggett turned to face the mountains, his fists jammed on his hips, his face set in steely resolve. "Dammit! Skinner knew what he was sending us into, Monica. He knew."

Monica's face softened and she reached for Doggett's shoulder. "You can't know that, John. He--"

Doggett whirled to face her. "You think the Assistant Director of the FBI can't get his hands on sealed adoption records if he wants to? He'd want to keep an eye on Scully's baby for her. For all of us." He walked back toward the gate, his back to Monica. "I'm tellin' ya, Moni, I've had a bad feeling since we left Washington. Why else would he send us on this case? There's been no crime. There's not even the threat of a crime. You can't tell me the FBI has nothin' better to do with its budget since '9/11' than spend it investigating Casper the Friendly Ghost."

Monica moved behind Doggett. She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. He seemed to settle down at her touch. She could always do that to him. It both pleased and annoyed him.

They both looked up when they heard the front door of the house. Ted Van de Kamp walked purposefully toward them, shooing away the sheep when they ran up to him. Doggett and Reyes broke physical contact and stood side-by-side at the gate, waiting.

When Van de Kamp reached the gate, he stopped, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. Doggett studied his face. Despite the determined set of Van de Kamp's jaw, his eyes were those of a scared man.

"Agents," he began, carefully. "I'm sure it was a shock to you, coming out here to investigate our problem and finding the child you gave up for adoption--"

"Whoa!" Doggett interrupted, raising his hands, palms perpendicular to the ground. "We're not William's biological parents, Dr. Van de Kamp. I'm tellin' ya."

Van de Kamp's eyes took on a puzzled look. He looked at Monica. "But you said...." Then he looked at Doggett. "And you said...."

Monica reached for the latch and pulled the gate open. "It's okay, Dr. Van de Kamp. We're not going to come between you and William." Van de Kamp's shoulders sagged at her words and Monica reached for him reassuringly. "I think we need to talk."

The black SUV pulled in behind the red barn, just off State Road 211, and parked between it and several hay stacks. Behind the tinted windshield, a dark figure raised a pair of binoculars and peered down the lane toward the Van de Kamp home.

Act Two

It didn't seem this far the last time, Jerry Harris thought as he sped along State Road 211. He was already running late. He'd cancelled his classes so he could be at Junie's house when the FBI agents arrived, but his Department Head had popped into his office just as he was about to leave and wouldn't stop talking. Now the agents would get there before him. He hoped Junie's husband would be there.

"Shit!" he exclaimed as the red barn flew by. He'd missed the turn- off to Junie's house. He had to drive another mile before he found a place he could turn around safely. When he finally reached the cut- off again, he was so distracted that he didn't notice the black SUV partially hidden behind the barn.

It must have rained last night, he thought as he made his way down the dirt driveway. It wasn't muddy, but the dirt wasn't flying, either. Suddenly, someone stepped out into the middle of the road and he slammed on the brakes. His heart pounded and he had to take several deep breaths before he could focus on the figure in front of him. It was Junie! She was standing just a few feet in front of his car, a blank expression on her face. He stared at her for a moment, disbelieving, and then opened the car door and got out.

"Junie!" he called out when she didn't move. "What's wrong? Has something happened?" He took a few steps toward her. "Are the FBI--"

Before Jerry knew what was happening, Junie rushed forward and slammed him against the hood of the car. She grasped his head in her hands and twisted sharply until his neck snapped.

Harris's body slid down the front of the car and slumped lifelessly to the ground. Junie blinked, stepped back, and blinked again. Her features began to melt and remold as her body grew in height and breadth. Blue eyes were replaced by green; facial hair appeared where there had been none before.

Jerry Harris was dead, now locked away within the trunk of his car. But Jerry Harris was alive as he turned deliberately, got behind the wheel of the car, and continued the drive to the Van de Kamp house.

"We can't do this, Monica," Doggett protested. "We can't tell these people they got an alien baby who can do magic tricks with his mind."

Monica stepped back and studied her partner. She knew he was right, and yet she didn't know what else to do. It wouldn't be long before the Van de Kamps figured out William wasn't a normal child, and she knew they would be terrified. She didn't know what else they could do, and Doggett wasn't offering any ideas.

"What do you suggest, John?" she asked, not trying to hide the exasperation in her voice. She knew the Van de Kamps were waiting in the house and were on edge; every moment this dragged out just increased their anxiety. "Should we just leave and let these poor people find out for themselves? William's powers are getting stronger. Have you ever heard of the 'terrible twos,' John? Do you have any idea what kind of havoc he'll cause? At least if they know what he is, if they understand what they're in for--"

"What is he, Monica?" Doggett snapped. He turned his head away and closed his eyes for a moment. When he looked back, Monica could see turmoil steeped in his blue eyes. "Dana never told us anything. We're left to guess that Mulder is William's father. Mulder's no goddamned alien, Monica. I don't know what William is. Do you?"

Monica ran her fingers through her hair and paced away several steps with her back to Doggett. She felt a chill run through her. She wasn't prepared to face the Van de Kamps. She turned back to look at Doggett.

"Then let's call Dana."

"No," Doggett said and reached for his cell phone. "Skinner. Let him decide."

Monica hesitated and then nodded her agreement. She knelt down when one of the Shetland sheep rubbed against her leg. She smoothed her hand against the sheep's furry face and watched Doggett as he punched Skinner's number on his speed dial.

"Kim, this is John Doggett. Is the AD in? It's urgent." He listened, frowned, and then punched the 'end' button on his phone. He looked at Monica. "He's not in. He took a personal day."

Monica gave the sheep one last pat and stood. "Call his cell phone," she said. She was starting to get a bad feeling. John had said earlier that something was wrong, that Skinner had known they would find William here. She knew Doggett had uncanny intuition about these things, whether he would admit it or not.

Doggett nodded and punched some more buttons. After a moment, he shook his head. "Voice mail."

"Well, we've got to tell them something, John. We can't just walk away from this."

Doggett paced to the gate and back. He flipped open his phone and tried Skinner's cell phone again. "I'm tellin' ya, Monica. Skinner doesn't want to hear from us. He's hangin' us out to dry on this one."

Monica shook her head. "I don't know him well, John, but I don't think he would do that. If he knew we'd find William here, he sent us because he thought we'd do the right thing, whatever it is."

"The right thing?" Doggett scoffed. He ran his hand through his hair and looked away. "Okay, Monica. We'll do it your way," he said after a moment. "But you're going to have to tell'em. I have no idea what to say."

Monica smiled and stepped close to Doggett. She took his hands in hers. Doggett avoided her gaze for a moment, but finally he met her eyes.

"It's the right thing, John."

Doggett nodded. "Yeah. Let's do it."

When they re-entered the house, the Van de Kamps were sitting on the sofa with William between them. Monica felt their tension like a noose around her neck. Subconsciously she fingered the slender silver chain she wore. As she tried to decide how to begin, she could feel their eyes on her. She took a deep breath and exhaled.

"First, I need to apologize for my outburst earlier," she began. "I was very surprised to see William. I never expected to see him again."

"Mon...Mon!" William blurted and then broke out into a fit of giggles. Junie Van de Kamp put her arm around him and pulled him close. He pointed one chubby finger at Monica and said it again. "Mon...Mon!"

Monica's eyes widened. Jesus, she thought. He can't possibly remember me. He was too young the last time I saw--. Suddenly, unbidden images invaded her mind. She saw a face, fuzzy, vague, but unmistakably Dana Scully. She saw the mobile hung above William's crib. And then she saw two faces, out of focus like the first, looking down from above the mobile. She recognized Dana. She recognized herself. Good God, she thought. Is he telepathic too? There was no doubt in Monica's mind that William remembered her.

Fortunately, the Van de Kamps were distracted by William's rambunctious behavior and didn't notice Monica's reaction.

"William's mother is a friend of ours. I was with her when William was born. We're not his birth parents, I assure you."

Junie let out a relieved sigh. "Well, that's a relief," she said. "He's been such a good baby, and so healthy! We've always had this nagging fear that his mother would change her mind and try to take him away from us."

"I don't think that's ever gonna happen," Doggett said.

William's attention was riveted to the living room window while the adults talked. He began to fidget and tried to squirm out of his mother's arms.

"Down!" William cried out abruptly, pulling away from his mother and slipping off the sofa. His little legs churned and he ran to the window. He pushed aside the curtain and stared out in the direction of the dirt road.

"There's something else we need to tell you about William," Monica said after a moment. She knew this was going to be the hard part. She glanced at Doggett. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. She turned back to the Van de Kamps who were watching her intently. "We aren't going to have to investigate the strange things that have been happening in your home," she said finally, deciding that it was best just to get it out in the open. Then she would worry about how to convince them.

"You aren't? But Jerry said you investigate this kind--"

"Yes, yes, we do. But in this case we don't have to," Monica interrupted. "We already know what--or in this case, who--is causing these things to happen."

William chose that moment to turn and look at Monica, his brow furrowed. He pointed out the window. "Mon...Mon!" he said excitedly.

"William is...different," Monica continued slowly. "He's not...he's..." Monica puffed out a breath of air. This was more difficult than she had expected.

"Are you trying to tell us that William is causing these things to happen?" June Van de Kamp asked, her eyes widening in disbelief. She laughed nervously and waved a dismissive hand in Monica's direction. "There's no way, Agent Reyes. I've been looking right at him sometimes when something on the other side of the room would move."

"Dr. and Mrs. Van de Kamp," Monica began. "William is special. He has telekinetic powers. And he can read your mind." There. It was out in the open at last.

"Are you out of your mind?" Junie Van de Kamp blurted out. She looked at Monica and then at William. "He's just a little boy."

Suddenly they were all distracted by William who ran across the room to Monica and pulled on her hand. "Mon...Mon!" he said, and pointed again toward the window. "Mon...Mon."

"What is it, William?" Monica said gently. She knelt so she could be on his level. "What are you trying to tell me?"

William screwed up his face in frustration. He stared intently at Monica and she felt a wave of fear course through her. William was afraid, but of what? She went to the window and looked out. She saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"Hope...Mon...Mon," he said and pointed again to the window.

"Isn't Hope one of the sheep?" John asked.

"One of the Shetlands," June said. "Hope is his favorite. He loves that sheep."

Monica looked out the window again. All three sheep were grazing peacefully.

"Hope is in the yard, William," Monica said. "Hope's fine."

William shook his head and pulled away from Monica. He ran to his parents, and then back to the window, then back to Monica. Finally, he stopped in the middle of the room and went completely still. Doggett took a step toward the little boy, but Monica held up her hand. She looked at Doggett and shook her head.

Suddenly the front door flew open. As the adults watched in amazement, one of the small Shetland sheep floated into the room, her feet at least a foot off the floor. With its eyes wide with fear, it bleated pitifully. It floated through the living room and settled gently on the floor beside William who threw his arms around the sheep's neck and hugged it tight.

Doggett and Reyes looked at each other. Even they had trouble believing what they'd just seen. Then they looked at the Van de Kamps who were staring at William and the sheep in astonishment.

After a moment, Doggett broke the stunned silence.

"I assume that's Hope."

Ted Van de Kamp raised his head and looked at Doggett. He nodded dumbly and then looked back at his son who was coaxing the sheep toward the kitchen.

Monica grabbed Doggett's arm and pulled him outside. "William's afraid of something," Monica said once the door was shut behind them. "He brought that animal in to protect it." She looked around, her senses on alert, looking for anything threatening.

"Maybe he just wanted to show ya the sheep, Monica," Doggett said half-heartedly. Monica could tell that he was shaken by what just happened.

"You saw how frantic--" She stopped mid-sentence and squinted her eyes against the bright morning sun. She saw a puff of dirt over the ridge and then a car came into view. Doggett turned to look, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. "Maybe it's Dr. Harris," Monica said.

They waited while the car closed the distance and pulled up beside their car. Doggett instinctively moved closer to Monica until they were standing side-by-side. There was no sound or movement from the car for several long seconds, then, finally, the driver's door opened.

The man who emerged looked like a college professor, Monica thought. She supposed it was his reddish-brown beard, streaked with silver and neatly trimmed. He looked just like she had imagined him when they spoke. She saw Doggett turn slightly so the new arrival couldn't see him reach for his weapon and release the safety. Quietly, she reached behind her back and did the same.

"Dr. Harris?" Doggett asked.

The man didn't answer. He leveled his eyes on Doggett, then Monica, and finally looked beyond them to the house.

"Dr. Harris," Monica said, trying to sound unconcerned. "I'm Special Agent Reyes. We spoke on the phone yesterday."

The man didn't respond. Instead, he began to move toward the house, ignoring the two FBI agents. Doggett quickly insinuated himself between the man and the house. He glanced at Monica who had drawn her weapon behind her back and moved into position behind him.

The door to the house opened and Junie Van de Kamp appeared. "Jerry! Thank God you're here. You won't believe what just happened," she called out.

"Get back in the house!" Monica yelled.

"Why? What are you doing?" Junie replied, alarmed. "That's Jerry Harris!"

"Get back in the house!" Monica repeated. She backed up, pushing Junie into the house and pulling the door closed. She had just backed up against the door when the man jerked open the gate and came into the yard. She saw Doggett raise his arms, his weapon pointed at the man.

"Stop right there!" Doggett ordered.

The man, whose eyes had been riveted to the house until that moment, now seemed to notice Doggett for the first time. He made a sudden movement toward the door.

"I said stop right--"

The man grabbed Doggett and threw him aside. Doggett twisted as he flew through the air, trying to land on his feet, but he came down hard against the fence. He lay on the ground, stunned.

"Federal Agent!" Monica shouted. "Stop or--" The man was only a few feet from Monica when the sound of a horn blaring drew her attention. The black SUV roared over the ridge and down the farm lane toward the house, throwing up clouds of dirt behind it.

The intruder turned and watched the speeding vehicle curiously for a moment and then returned his attention to Monica. He grabbed her arm and thrust it aside, knocking her weapon from her grasp. Monica slammed the heel of her left hand in an upward thrust against the man's nose as hard as she could. It should have incapacitated any man. Instead, he knocked her hand aside, as though he were merely swatting away a fly. The knot of fear in her stomach tightened as she realized there was nothing she could do to stop him--this thing--from taking William.

"Monica, get in the house!"

That voice! It was Skinner. Skinner had jumped out of the SUV after it skidded to a halt and was standing just inside the gate. His weapon was drawn and steadied with both hands, and aimed squarely at the back of her assailant's head. Frantic, she reached for the doorknob. She slid inside the door and slammed it shut behind her, throwing the bolt just as she heard the sharp retort of a gunshot.

Monica ran to the living room window in time to see 'Jerry Harris' dissolving into a green goo. Skinner had pulled Doggett to his feet and was moving him to safety from the toxic fumes emanating from the dissolving Alien Bounty Hunter. She had read about the Bounty Hunters in Dana Scully's reports, about their shape-shifting abilities and the injuries suffered by humans when exposed to the fumes from the green goo, but this was the first time she'd actually seen one.

Junie Van de Kamp grabbed Monica's arm and spun her around.

"What have you done?" Junie screamed at Monica. "That was my friend! What have you done?"

Monica looked over Junie's shoulder. Ted Van de Kamp and William were huddled in a corner of the living room. She met William's eyes and her mind was flooded with a sense of awareness, a feeling that William understood on some level what was happening and that he was the cause of it. She tried to project a sense of calm and reassurance, and he smiled at her in return. Doggett's question echoed in her mind: 'What is he?'

"That wasn't your friend. It was an imposter," Monica said to Junie Van de Kamp. She had to get outside. John was hurt. "Stay in the house!" she said to Junie with as much authority in her voice as she could muster. "Don't open the door for anyone but me or Doggett." Junie nodded meekly.

"Where's the back door?" Monica asked. Junie pointed toward the kitchen. Monica didn't know how long the toxic fumes from the Bounty Hunter would linger, and she didn't want to risk going out the front door and being exposed to it. By the time Monica ran around the house, Doggett was on his feet, leaning heavily against Skinner. A trickle of blood ran down the side of his face from a cut on his scalp.

"John, you're bleeding," Monica said, worry lines creasing her forehead. She reached inside his jacket for his handkerchief, then pressed it gently against the wound on his scalp. "We've got to get you to a hospital."

"There're no hospitals out here, Agent Reyes," Skinner growled. Monica opened her mouth to respond, but Skinner cut her off. "And we don't have time for hospitals."

"Time?

"You don't think they'll stop with just one Bounty Hunter, do you?" Skinner asked. "There'll be more. Or worse."

Monica froze. She knew what Skinner meant.

"Super Soldiers," she said, grimly.

end act two

Act Three

"There. That ought to hold you until you can see an R.D.," Ted Van de Kamp said as he put the final butterfly bandage to Doggett's scalp wound. He had clipped the hair close around the wound, cleaned it, and removed several splinters from Doggett's scalp.

"R.D.?" Monica asked. She sat beside Doggett on the bed in the Van de Kamp's guest room, holding his hand while the veterinarian worked.

Ted smiled. "'Real Doctor,'" he said. "Inside joke. It's what veterinarians call MDs."

Junie Van de Kamp brought in a glass of water, a bottle of Tylenol, and a bag of frozen peas. She handed the water and Tylenol to Monica and the frozen peas to Doggett. When he gave her a stupefied look, she moved his hand to his head and told him to hold the peas against his head to help with the swelling.

Monica fished out two of the pills and handed them to Doggett.

"Did you lose consciousness at any time, Agent Doggett?" Junie asked.

Doggett swallowed the pills. "I...don't think so," he said, handing the glass back to Monica.

"Do you remember how you got hurt?" Junie asked.

Doggett closed his eyes for a moment and grimaced. "No. Not really. Monica was behind me. I...." His shoulders slumped and he sighed in frustration.

Junie motioned Monica to get up and then helped Doggett lie back on the bed. "I think you have a grade two concussion, Agent Doggett. You should see a doctor as soon as possible."

"We don't have time for that," Skinner growled from the doorway. He had been silent while the couple treated Doggett's injuries, but he was growing impatient with the delay.

"You keep saying that!" June Van de Kamp spat at Skinner. She'd been very quiet since Skinner had shown her Jerry Harris's corpse in the trunk of his car. Until then, she hadn't believed that the man she'd greeted outside her house wasn't her old friend.

Skinner knew how traumatic it would be on Junie and her husband to learn all these things in a matter of hours. He'd had nearly a decade to get used to the idea of aliens and government conspiracies.

"Mrs. Van de Kamp," Skinner began, his voice gentler this time. "The most important thing right now is to protect William. All of us are in great danger. We have to leave here. Now."

"Great danger from what?" Junie Van de Kamp crossed the room and stood toe-to-toe with Skinner. "You killed...the imposter. He...You..." She shook her head in frustration.

"Yes. I killed it, but--"

"It? What do you mean, 'it'?"

Skinner glanced over Junie's head at Monica. Their eyes met and after a moment, Monica nodded. There was no other choice.

"Alien. It was an Alien Bounty Hunter," he said slowly. "An extraterrestrial who came here to take William. Or maybe to kill him. We don't know exactly what they want."

"Extraterrestrial? Are you people crazy?"

Skinner bristled at having his sanity questioned. How did Mulder put up with this crap for so long? he wondered. His lips pursed in irritation.

"Honey, I think maybe we should hear him out," Ted Van de Kamp said in a low, composed voice.

Skinner's lips parted in surprise at receiving support from such an unlikely source.

Junie turned and looked at her husband. "You're not saying we should believe this nonsense?"

Ted Van de Kamp crossed the room and took his wife's hand. His expression stilled and grew serious. "Yes, Junie, I am." He looked at Skinner and then at his wife. "I don't pretend to understand it, but you saw what William did with Hope. And you saw what happened to that...that thing in our front yard. For William's sake, I think we should do what they say."

Junie swallowed hard and bit back tears. "I knew he was too good to be true," she said and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands.

Ted pulled Junie closer and put his arms around her. "Why don't you take William to his room while I discuss this with the others?" Junie nodded and called to William, who had been watching the adults with wide eyes from the rocking chair in the corner. He climbed off the chair and ran to his mother, wrapping his arms around her leg.

After Junie and William left, Ted Van de Kamp turned to Skinner.

"Tell me how to protect my family."

Skinner was loading the last of the supplies into the SUV when Ted brought him some chains.

"These ought to fit your tires, Walter," Ted said. "I called the Shoshone ranger station and everything's fine right now, but you never know what's going to happen up there. If it snows, you'll need those."

"Thanks," Skinner said. "Are you finished loading?"

"Yeah. All set." Ted pulled some papers out of his jacket pocket and handed them to Skinner. "Here's a map, just in case we get separated. We go straight up the interstate until just past Sheridan, then take exit--"

"I know," Skinner interrupted. "I worked in Yellowstone a couple summers while I was in college. But I need directions to the cabin, just in case."

Ted nodded. "They're in there." He scuffed his shoe in the dirt and Skinner knew he had something else to say.

"What else?" Skinner asked.

"I've got a rifle. A twenty-two."

It went against Skinner's instincts to arm someone in his protective custody. But he'd never seen an FBI protocol that covered this situation. Besides, he knew the extra weapon might come in handy. "Look, Ted," he began, cautiously. "There's a lot you need to know, and we don't have time. I'm sending Agent Reyes with you. She's an experienced Agent, and she knows what we're up against. Listen to her. Okay?"

Ted swallowed hard, but nodded.

Skinner excused himself when he saw Monica and Doggett standing at the gate. Monica had her arm around Doggett's waist and he leaned against her wearily. "We're ready," Monica said.

"How's he doing?" Skinner asked. He opened the gate and led Doggett to the passenger seat of the black SUV.

"He's still suffering from dizziness and nausea," Monica said. "Sir, I think we should drop him off at a hospital in Cheyenne before we head north."

Skinner started to shake his head.

"No," Doggett interrupted. "I'm staying with you guys." When Monica started to protest, he interrupted. "End of argument, Moni."

Monica's frown told both men what she thought of John's decision.

Skinner shut the door to the SUV and pulled Monica a few feet away. Monica was taller than Dana Scully, and of darker complexion, but they were much alike in other ways. Stubbornness, determination, intelligence, courage, and fierce loyalty to their partners were just a few character traits they had in common.

"I want you to ride with the Van de Kamps in their SUV--"

"Sir, I think I should stay with John--"

"Agent Reyes," Skinner began, his patience beginning to wear thin. "I'm not letting three civilians make this trip alone, and I'm not leaving you alone with Doggett in the state he's in. He and the Van de Kamps need us for protection."

"Protection. From Super Soldiers."

"Yeah. I know." Skinner reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a box. "You carry a P228, right?" Skinner asked.

"Yes, sir," Monica answered and looked at the box of 9mm ammunition in Skinner's hand.

Skinner opened the box, removed one bullet, and held it up. "I had these custom made," he said. "I've got more if you need it. And 45mm for Doggett and me."

Monica's brow furrowed in confusion. "What's special about them?"

"They're pre-fragmented, filled with magnetite pellets. They'll disintegrate on impact and each pellet will make its own wound channel."

"You think this'll stop Super Soldiers?"

Skinner shrugged. "I don't know. But if nothing else, it might slow them down some."

"Like Kryptonite weakened Superman?"

Skinner chuckled. "Yeah, like Kryptonite weakened Superman."

Monica took the box of ammunition and slipped it into her jacket pocket. She took Skinner's arm and pulled him further from the vehicles.

"Sir,...this family has to go into hiding forever. Do they understand that?"

Skinner sighed and looked beyond Monica. Leave it to Reyes to get right to the heart of the matter, he thought. "No. They don't. When we get somewhere safe, we'll have to explain it to them."

"Safe? Sir, *is* there someplace safe?"

Skinner gave Monica a penetrating look. "I have to think there is, Agent Reyes, or there's not much use going on, is there?"

For the first time since Skinner had known Monica Reyes, he thought he saw fear in her eyes. He knew the X-Files had been her dream assignment; now it had become a nightmare. He looked beyond Monica and could see Junie Van de Kamp carrying William to the white SUV.

"There's something else I need to give you," Skinner said, nodding toward the black SUV. They returned to the vehicle and Skinner pulled a twelve gauge, double-barreled shotgun from the back and two boxes of shells.

"These shells are filled with magnetite pellets," Skinner said. "I've got another shotgun and more shells if we need them."

Monica shouldered the gun and slipped the shells in her pocket with the other ammo.

"There's one more thing," Skinner said. "Ted has a rifle, but I don't have any magnetite ammo for it. You'll need to tell them how to kill a Bounty Hunter with it, and...you'll need to tell them about Super Soldiers."

Monica's eyes grew large. "Sir, do you think that's wise? Telling them about Super Soldiers? The fewer--"

"They need to know what they're up against, Monica," Skinner said softly. "If we don't tell them...." He shook his head in dismay.

"They'll be dropping *me* off at a hospital. A mental hospital."

Skinner chuckled. "I don't think so, Monica. Ted seems to be on board with all this. And he wants to protect his family."

"Scully was lucky William was adopted by such devoted parents."

Skinner nodded. He'd been thinking the same thing since he'd gotten here. But he feared that when they heard the true cost of having William, they'd give him up.

"Okay, let's get this show on the road."

Skinner could feel fatigue beginning to lick at him as the stark Wyoming landscape began fading into darkness. The red tail lights of Ted Van de Kamp's SUV were just a few car lengths ahead of him, moving at a rock-steady seventy miles an hour. Cruise control is a wonderful thing, Skinner thought, and then huffed a small laugh.

He looked to his right. Doggett's seat was all the way back, or as far as the load of supplies in the back would let it. Doggett's head lolled to the left and he was facing Skinner. In sleep, most of the worry lines disappeared from Doggett's face. Skinner tried to remember whether those worry lines had been there before Doggett was appointed to head the taskforce to find Fox Mulder.

Skinner returned his eyes to the road. He wished Doggett was awake and they could talk. It would help keep him awake, and, well, he just plain wanted to talk. There were things he needed to say to Doggett, about Monica, about Scully and William, about life in general.

He considered John Doggett one of his few friends. He and Doggett were both former Marines, both divorced by women they loved but couldn't talk to, both respected law enforcement officers. At least, they were both respected before their lives became entangled with Fox Mulder and the X-Files. Skinner laughed again.

"What's so funny?"

Doggett's sleepy voice startled Skinner and he jerked the steering wheel slightly to the right, but quickly pulled the vehicle back in line. John was setting his seat upright when Skinner glanced over at him.

"I'll tell you sometime when you're feeling better."

Doggett took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. He was silent for a long minute as he surveyed their surroundings.

"Where are we?"

"About thirty-five miles south of Sheridan," Skinner said. "We just passed Buffalo. How're you feeling?"

Doggett gingerly touched the side of his head where the steri-strips held together the gash on his scalp. "I've been better."

Skinner chuckled.

"I could use a pit stop," Doggett said as he tried to blink the sleep out of his eyes.

Skinner nodded and picked up the small FPS two-way radio that lay on the seat beside him. "Car 2," he said into the small gadget.

"Car 1," came back Monica's voice.

"Let's make a gas stop next chance we get," Skinner said. "And my passenger needs a bathroom."

There was a small delay before Monica responded. "How's he feeling?"

Skinner handed the radio to Doggett.

"Been worse," Doggett said. "Just find me a bathroom."

Monica's laughter filled the car and made both men smile. "Will do."

Doggett handed the radio back to Skinner. "Where're we goin'?"

Skinner glanced at Doggett with worry-filled eyes. "You don't know?"

"Should I?"

"We made the plans back at the house. You were there."

Doggett rubbed his jaw. "I don't remember anything between the flyin' sheep and Moni wantin' to drop me off at a hospital."

"Flying sheep?"

Doggett told Skinner about William's performance in the Van de Kamp living room.

"That explains a lot about the Van de Kamps' cooperation," Skinner said.

"So where're we goin'?" Doggett asked again.

"Ted's uncle has a cabin in the Wapiti Valley, on the edge of the Shoshone National Forest. Only uses it in the summer."

"Shoshone National Forest?" Doggett asked. "Isn't that near Yellowstone?"

"Yeah, just outside it. Why?"

"Never been to Yellowstone," Doggett said. "Always wanted to...always wanted to take Luke."

Skinner nodded. Scully had filled him in on that horrible case, the one that ended with an Assistant Director of the FBI charged with second degree murder and an investigation into corruption in the New York City field office. But even more worrisome to Skinner, it led to a yet another pair of X-Files partners becoming personally involved with each other.

"You think we'll be safe there?" Doggett's voice intruded on Skinner's thoughts and he shrugged in response. He really had no idea whether there was anyplace on earth safe from the aliens and their government conspirators. For all he knew, Fox Mulder was dead already.

Doggett turned and looked at the supplies in the back. "Damn, Skinner! You got some serious survival gear back there."

Skinner looked in the rearview mirror at the boxes and bags stashed in the cargo area of the SUV. The bags of food in the rear had been added at the Van de Kamp house, but he had brought the boxes and camouflage duffel bags of supplies and equipment.

"Where'd you get it all?" Doggett asked.

"The Gunmen."

"Huh?"

"They left it to me. All of it. And this SUV too. What you see back there doesn't even make a dent in the supplies they had stockpiled."

"You're shittin' me."

Skinner laughed, the first real laugh he'd had since before he'd gotten the call from his old frat brother, Jerry Harris, telling him about the incredible paranormal activity going on at a home in Wyoming. His heart had pounded in his chest when Jerry told him the family name. He'd been monitoring the Van de Kamps ever since they adopted William, and there had been no indication that William's powers had returned.

The phone call from Harris had changed everything. Skinner knew his home was monitored. It was just a matter of who would get to William first: him or the aliens. He had left immediately for Idaho and, the next morning, called the X-Files office.

"I thought they were broke," Doggett said, interrupting his reverie. "I thought they sold everything they had trying to find Yves."

"They sold everything they had in D.C.," Skinner answered. "They had a hide-out in Idaho. It's stocked with enough food for a year, and everything else a good survivalist needs. I was on my way there when I told Monica to take the case."

"And they left it all to you?"

Skinner shrugged. "Sort of. They had it all in a joint living trust. A will would have had to go through probate. The trust was more...private. I was substitute trustee in the event of their deaths. We're all the beneficiaries. Mulder, Scully, me, you, Monica, Yves Harlow, and Jimmy Bond. I figured that included looking after William."

"Why don't we go there?" Doggett asked. "I mean, instead of this cabin we're goin' to."

"We might end up there, but this is a good intermediate stop. I don't want to reveal the location of the Gunmen's hideout if I don't have to."

They traded stories about the Gunmen until they pulled off and turned into a Travel America truck center.

"Wait for me, John," Skinner said after he pulled up next to the pump. He stretched for a moment after he got out and then circled the vehicle to Doggett's side.

"I'm okay," Doggett said as he exited the SUV, though Skinner noticed he was holding on tight to the door.

"Dizzy? Nauseated?" Skinner asked, watching Doggett closely. The last thing they needed right now was for Doggett to take a header and get hurt worse.

"Nah, I'm fine," Doggett said. "Just need a minute to get my sea legs."

"John!"

Monica had jumped out of the white SUV at the pump in front of them and run back to Doggett. Skinner felt a flash of annoyance that she had left the Van de Kamps alone.

"Why don't you help Agent Doggett while I stay with the Van de Kamps, Agent Reyes," he said.

Monica froze, recognizing the reprimand in Skinner's voice. She nodded sheepishly and then took Doggett's arm and walked with him toward the truck stop.

Skinner started the pump and then joined the Van de Kamps at their vehicle. Junie was in the back seat. William was sleeping peacefully in his car seat. Skinner drew in a soft breath. In his sleep, William looked remarkably like Fox Mulder. It was the first time he had ever noticed any resemblance between the two. He swallowed hard.

"We made good time," Ted said.

Skinner was happy for the distraction. "Yes," he agreed. "But we'll have to slow down going through the Bighorn Mountains."

When Reyes and Doggett returned, Skinner escorted the Van de Kamps inside. He paid for the gas with cash and bought sandwiches and sodas for everyone.

Once they were back on the road, Doggett opened their sandwiches for them and they consumed them without fanfare. That was another thing Skinner liked about John Doggett. Food was just food, not a social event. No need for idle chit chat; when he or Doggett had something to say, there was usually a point to it.

"Good sandwich," Doggett said as he gathered up their trash and handed Skinner a can of soda. "I feel a lot better now. Head's finally stopped pounding."

"Good," Skinner said. "You see that red box right behind us? There's some special ammo in there. Load your clips with it."

Doggett opened the ammo box and began loading his clips with the magnetite bullets while Skinner explained what they were.

By the time they reached the entrance to Bighorn National Forest, Doggett had finished loading three clips with the new magnetite ammo. "You think they know where we are?" he asked as he slid his Sig Sauer into the holster on his belt.

"I don't know," Skinner admitted. "I wouldn't be surprised if they do." He looked at Doggett for a moment before continuing. "There's something we need to talk about." When Doggett didn't respond, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "It's about Agent Reyes. About your relationship with Agent Reyes."

Doggett's features froze for a moment and then he looked directly at Skinner. "So you do know. Monica thought you did," he said quietly.

Skinner glared at him. "No, actually I didn't--not for sure. Not until last night," he replied tersely.

Doggett glared back, shifting angrily in his seat. "What the hell--?"

"I spent the night in this car, in your motel's parking lot. I saw--"

"You were spyin' on us?!" Doggett's face turned red with anger.

"Not spying, Agent Doggett. I was watching your backs. Imagine my surprise when Reyes disappeared into your room and didn't come out until morning."

"Christ, Skinner. We're both adults. We knew each other before--"

"I want you to end it with her!" Skinner interrupted. He slammed the steering wheel with his fist. "Dammit, John. Haven't you learned anything from Mulder and Scully?!"

"This is none of your damned business!" Doggett said, his voice rising. "What Monica and I do--"

"None of my business? I'm your fuckin' supervisor. I'll close the X-Files for good and transfer you two so far apart...." Skinner stopped, letting his threat hang in the air. Finally, he sighed and said, "I'm not going through this again. I'm not going to sit by and let two more lives be destroyed."

Skinner exhaled in frustration. He hadn't meant to blow up like that. He'd intended to talk to Doggett quietly and rationally about the risk he and Reyes were taking; about how the government conspirators wouldn't hesitate to exploit their feelings for each other, just as they had manipulated Mulder and Scully.

Doggett sat stonily in the passenger seat, his jaw muscles spasming under his taut skin. Skinner pursed his lips and tried again.

"John,..."

"Supervisor or no supervisor--Go to hell, Walter!" Doggett growled.

Skinner paused, looking out into the darkness. He was about to respond, to try to reason with Doggett, when the SUV's brake lights came on suddenly ahead of him. He hit his brakes and held tightly to the steering wheel until the SUV lurched to a stop just a few feet behind the other vehicle.

"What the hell--?"

Skinner quickly surveyed their surroundings. To his left, a guard rail was all there was between the road and a sheer drop into the valley below. To the right, there was only the narrow shoulder between the road and the mountain. He could see a long sawhorse blocking the road ahead of the Van de Kamp car. It was painted green with white, block letters that read 'National Park Service.' Monica started to open the front passenger door when Skinner snatched the little radio off the dashboard.

"Stay in the car!" he commanded tersely. He turned to Doggett as he was opening his door. "Get behind the wheel, John," he said.

Once out of the car, Skinner knew immediately there was something wrong. It was quiet. Too quiet. He looked toward the dense forest. He reached for his weapon and released the safety.

A man wearing the uniform of a National Park Service Ranger stood by the side of the road. Skinner smiled at the Ranger as he approached, but the Ranger didn't smile back.

"What's the problem, Ranger?" Skinner called out. He stood a few feet from the driver's door of the Van de Kamp vehicle. He glanced at the vehicle. Ted's hands gripped the driving wheel resolutely, a look of grim determination on his face. Monica, in the front passenger seat, held the shotgun in her lap, her gaze locked on the Ranger.

The Ranger's bland expression didn't change. "I need you all to exit your vehicles, sir."

Skinner didn't move. Time seemed to slow down as he analyzed the situation. He looked at William strapped into his car seat in the back seat of the Van de Kamp's SUV. 'Is he human?' he asked in his mind. He was answered with a cacophony of emotions, the strongest being an icy fear.

Skinner spun on his heels and drew his weapon, but before he could raise his arm, he found himself soaring through the air. He crashed against the grill of the black SUV, scraping his cheek across the metal as his glasses flew to the ground. Stunned, he shook his head dumbly. In a daze, he watched the Super Soldier pull Ted and Junie out of their SUV. He threw them, one in each hand, over the side of the road.

As Skinner scrambled to his feet, he heard the first shotgun blast. He looked up in time to see Monica pumping the shotgun, and then firing again. From a few feet behind him, he heard the bark of Doggett's weapon, then again, and again, and again. The Super Soldier stumbled backwards and looked down at his chest, his face a mask of sheer horror.

Monica reloaded the shotgun and fired repeatedly. Doggett emptied his clip, slapped in another, and resumed firing. The Super Soldier fell to his knees as the deadly barrage continued. He reared back his head and released an other-worldly howl. His body began to shake violently until it was a blur.

"Look out!" Skinner yelled. He, Doggett, and Reyes scrambled behind the SUV as the Super Soldier exploded.

"Jesus Christ," Doggett breathed.

They peered around the SUV. Skinner winced as he put his glasses on. His cheek was bruised, but not broken, from the impact with the SUV's grill. It was already starting to throb like a son-of-a-bitch. He trudged back to the other vehicle and joined Doggett and Reyes beside the remains of the Super Soldier. The magnetite bullets and shells had worked.

"Mama! Mama!" The sound of William's screams caught the attention of the agents.

"Oh my God!" Monica shouted. She handed the shotgun to Doggett and ran to the side of the road with Skinner. Grimly, they looked down the bank at the two bodies sprawled below.

It was night and Skinner was alone driving through the Wapiti Valley, toward Cody. 'Well, not exactly alone,' he thought, glancing towards the back of the SUV. Ted Van de Kamp's lifeless body was wrapped in a faded Army blanket.

Skinner shivered. He prayed that in their rush to flee they had hidden the Super Soldier's macabre corpse--if it could be called that--and covered their tracks well enough. If he was stopped by law enforcement now, he could kiss his career and his liberty goodbye.

Doggett's words as they were loading the corpse in the back of the SUV echoed in Skinner's mind: "When did we stop being cops and become criminals, Assistant Director?"

Doggett had wanted one of them to remain behind and call in the U.S. Park Police. He was still angry from their argument in the car, and Skinner knew that eventually he would realize the danger of the idea. Still, the chastisement had stung, and Skinner needed to bite his tongue to keep from lashing back.

Monica was too busy tending to Junie Van de Kamp's injuries to notice the conflict between the two men. William, still strapped in his car seat, frantically tried to get out and then gone very still. When Skinner and Doggett finished loading Ted's body and reloading the supplies, Skinner got in the back seat of the SUV with William and shut the door.

William looked at him expectantly, his dark eyes revealing an almost mystical wisdom. Skinner ran his hand over William's head. "You got your old man's head of hair, kid," he said.

"Mama?"

The scared look on William's face made Skinner's heart ache. The boy was losing his second set of parents and he wasn't even two-years old yet. No child should have to go through that type of trauma twice, not even a child with William's gifts.

Skinner chewed his lip for a moment. Finally, swallowing hard, he said, "Do you understand what just happened, William?" The words had barely left his lips when his mind was flooded with images that frightened him for reasons he couldn't explain. It was more feeling than image, he realized after a moment; a feeling of loss so profound that it took his breath away.

"Yeah, I guess you do," Skinner said, slumping back against the seat. He ran his hand over his face and sighed. William was an enigma, a puzzle too complex for someone with Skinner's uncompromising mindset. "I'm sorry," he offered and patted the little boy on the head again.

Outside, Doggett had found a canteen of water and dampened his handkerchief which Monica was using to wash some of the dirt from Junie's face.

"How is she?" Skinner asked when he approached.

"She's in a lot of pain," Monica said softly.

Skinner knelt and rooted through the medical kit he had given Monica. He found a small vial and held it up to the moonlight while he drew some of the fluid out with a hypodermic. He injected Junie and disposed of the used needle.

"What was that?" Doggett asked. "What'd you give her?"

"Morphine," Skinner answered dryly. He dropped the vial and hypo back in the back and strode back to the black SUV with Doggett on his heels.

"Morphine? Jesus Christ, Skinner. How do you know how much to give her? You'll kill--"

Skinner swung around, grabbed Doggett by the jacket, and pulled him close. "I learned everything I need to know about morphine in Vietnam," Skinner growled. He released Doggett and stepped back, his hands clenched in fists at his side. "Now are you going to start working with me on this or not?"

Doggett grimaced and looked away. After a moment, he turned back to Skinner. "What do ya want me to do?"

"Are you able to drive?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

Together, they gingerly loaded Junie into the back of the Van de Kamp SUV. Doggett climbed behind the wheel and Monica strapped herself in the passenger seat with William on her lap. It was either that or have William ride with Skinner and his dead father, and Monica wouldn't hear of it.

Though the rest of the drive through the Big Horn Mountains had been uneventful, Skinner was on edge the whole way. Finally, they left the mountains, and as soon as they cleared the dense forest, Skinner radioed Doggett to find a dark, safe place to pull over. There was something he had to do.

End of Act Three

Act Four

Dana Scully looked out the tiny window of the plane at the mountain scenery below. When had she stopped marveling at such beautiful sights? When had she lost the innocence she brought with her to the FBI ten years before? She looked about her at the other passengers on the twenty-two seat commuter plane. Did they have any idea what kind of world they lived in? What kind of dangers were around every corner? There was a time when she thought the Lone Gunmen bordered on paranoid schizophrenia. When had she realized that they were right all along?

God, she missed Mulder.

Mulder could always snap her out of these moods. Of course, he could always put her in these moods, too, with his theories about government conspiracies and alien abductions. She laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. Memories of evenings spent with Mulder flooded her mind and she smiled in spite of herself. Then she remembered the night they conceived William.

She jerked upright and shook her head, slapping herself mentally. Don't think about William. Don't think about William. It had become her mantra during the last year.

The touch of the airplane's wheels on the ground surprised her. She had been day-dreaming longer than she realized. What was becoming of her? She'd thought she had this longing for Mulder and her lost son under control. But last night, Skinner's call had re-ignited the pain. She almost hadn't recognized the tinny noise coming from her purse, but then remembered the 'communication device' Skinner had given her. She didn't know what else to call it. It was a cell phone, but not really. She knew Skinner had to use a laptop computer to call her on it.

Scully marveled at how much Walter Skinner had changed since Mulder's abduction, death, and rebirth. The Gunmen had taken him under their wing, and taught him everything they knew, or so Frohike had claimed. Skinner was a eager student, Byers had said, determined to be ready when the time came. He'd thrown himself into his studies with the fervor of the new convert. She only hoped he'd had time to learn enough before the Gunmen....

She shook her head again. The untimely and heroic demise of her three quirky friends was something else she tried not to think about. There were so many things not to think about these days.

Skinner had told her to come to Cody, Wyoming immediately. He'd checked the schedules already. If she caught the red-eye to Denver, she could be on the first flight to Cody early in the morning. He hadn't told her why, but she knew it was urgent or he wouldn't have contacted her. He had told her to bring her doctor's bag. She prayed it wasn't for Mulder.

She'd used the stash of cash and fake IDs he'd given her months ago to buy the ticket. She'd taken the subway to the suburbs, then a city bus to a tourist hotspot, and finally, a taxi to the airport. She'd felt uneasy about checking her bag with her service weapon, but she knew she couldn't get it through airport security without using her FBI credentials, and she didn't want to alert anyone to her travels.

When she de-planed, she wandered toward the security checkpoint, wondering where Skinner would be waiting for her. When she found him, she was surprised that the airport police hadn't detained him. He was slouched in an uncomfortable-looking chair against the wall, eyeing everyone who walked by. He had a two-day growth of beard and a dark bruise on his jaw. He looked like he hadn't slept for two days either. He stood when he saw her and took her bag.

"You look horrible, Walter," she said by way of greeting.

Skinner smiled ruefully. "Nice to see you, too." He took her arm and steered her toward the doors. "Wait till you see Doggett," he added.

"John's here?" Scully was surprised.

"And Monica."

The gang's all here, she thought. It must be even worse than she'd imagined. She felt a familiar tightening of her chest, and tried to tamp down her growing disquiet. They moved wordlessly through the small airport. Once in the car and on their way west, Skinner told her why he'd summoned her.

"Oh my God," was all she could say when he finished. She was going to see William again. She was going to hold her baby in her arms again. "What about William?" she asked breathlessly. "Was William hurt?"

"No. He's fine."

Scully slumped back in her seat. She didn't know how much more of this emotional roller coaster she could take, and the tears came unbidden. Skinner reached into his jacket pocket and handed her a handkerchief. She'd long ago gotten over her dread of crying in Walter Skinner's presence.

"How badly is William's...mother...injured?" Scully asked when the tears finally stopped.

Skinner looked at her for a moment and the pain in his eyes was apparent. "She isn't going to make it," he said, grimly.

"Then why...?" Scully felt her breath catch. Why did Skinner need her if she couldn't save Junie Van de Kamp? Surely he understood that she couldn't take William home. He would be in even more danger if he became part of her life again.

Skinner interrupted her thoughts. "Life and death decisions aren't mine to make, Dana," he said. After a long, uncomfortable silence, he added, "I've been giving Junie morphine to keep her comfortable."

Scully looked at him quizzically. Slowly, realization dawned, and she looked at him aghast. "You want me to euthanize her," she asked breathlessly. "You want me to...." Her voice trailed off painfully.

"I don't know what else to do," Skinner admitted. There was an air of defeat about him that Scully had never seen before. He seemed ready to give up the fight, and if he did, what would become of them all?

Scully shook her head vehemently. "We should take her to a hospital," Scully said. "She needs a real doctor, in a hospital, not a pathologist--"

"Dana, if we take her to a hospital, they'll find us," Skinner interrupted gently. "They'll find William," he added.

Scully gazed at him intently. 'Find another answer. Don't make me do this,' her eyes pleaded with him.

"Besides," Skinner continued, "I don't think she'll make it to a hospital."

"You should have taken her last night," Scully said, her voice unable to do more than whisper.

Skinner gripped the steering wheel. "Dammit, Dana. In a perfect world, we would have taken her to a hospital. But it's not a perfect world and I had to make a decision. I made it. I decided to save William. And now we've got to live with that decision."

She was quiet for a long time after that, staring sightlessly out the window. She remembered Dr. Wieder in California. She remembered telling Mulder that she would have made the same decision Wieder did, to push an overdose of morphine to speed Lynette Peattie's death, and to end her suffering.

Scully gritted her teeth. "I want to examine her," she said hoarsely. She looked pointedly at Skinner. "I won't make any decision until I see her."

Skinner kept his eyes on the road. "Okay."

They drove to the cabin in silence.

The cabin was lovely, Scully thought when she first saw it. Then she remembered what was waiting for her inside. What was she more afraid of, seeing William again or having to make a life-or-death decision about his adoptive mother? She felt the bile rise to her throat, and fought down a wave of panic.

Skinner hefted her bag from the back of the vehicle and trudged into the house, not waiting for her. She tried to open the car door, but her hand was shaking so badly that it slipped off the handle. She sighed heavily, leaned her head against the window, and stared out into the dense forest surrounding her. 'Please God, help me do the right thing,' she thought, and closed her eyes. Absently, she fingered the cross around her neck.

A gentle tapping on the window snapped her out of her reverie. It was Monica. Though she didn't appear to be injured like Skinner, there was no smile on her normally happy countenance. With everything else unfolding, Scully didn't know whether she could handle a cheerless Monica Reyes.

Scully opened the car door and climbed out.

"Dana," Monica said. "I'm so glad you're here."

Scully tried to smile, but couldn't find it in her. She could empathize with Monica, though. Taking care of a dying woman, two injured grown men, and a little boy couldn't have been easy on her. Before she could say anything, she found herself being drawn into an embrace.

"I'm so sorry to put you through this, Dana," Monica whispered in her ear. It was all Scully could do not to break down and cry again. Monica hooked her arm with Scully's and together they walked to the cabin.

The interior of the cabin was furnished in a 'rustic minimalism' motif. The downstairs main room was a combination sitting area, kitchen, and dining room. A small bedroom ran off the kitchen; another ran off the hallway leading to the sitting area. The upstairs was an open loft. John Doggett sat at the rough-hewn dining table, drinking from a mug. When he turned to look at her, she gasped. There was an ugly gash held together with several steri-strips on the side of his head.

"John," she said, walking quickly to his side to look at his wound. "How'd this happen?"

"I had an unfriendly encounter with one of those shape-shiftin' things," Doggett said and took another sip from his mug.

"An Alien Bounty Hunter?" Scully looked at Skinner and he nodded.

"Yeah," Doggett said. "I lived. It didn't."

The wound looked infected, Scully thought, and for a few moments she was able to distract herself by opening her luggage, pulling out her doctor's bag, and rooting around nervously for some topical antibiotic. When she found it, Monica took it from her hand and looked at her with understanding eyes.

"He's in the bathroom, Dana. Taking a nap." She nodded toward a door on the other side of the room.

Scully blinked, trying to comprehend. "In the bathroom?"

For the first time since Scully had arrived, Monica smiled. "We put a sleeping bag and a pillow in the bathtub. It made the perfect crib for him."

Dana's eyes moved slowly to the bathroom door. She took several steps toward the door and then paused to look back. Skinner was practically asleep on the sofa, but he was watching her through droopy eye-lids. They were all on edge, she could tell; they were worried about what would happen when she saw William again. Truth be told, she was worried about that, too.

Finally, she closed the distance to the door and opened it quietly. William was sleeping peacefully with one arm thrown haphazardly over his head. 'My God, how he's grown! And look at that hair! It's strawberry blond!' she thought happily. She wanted to whisk him out of his makeshift crib and hug him tightly to her.

"Dana?" Monica said softly behind her. "Junie needs you."

Scully squeezed her eyes shut, determined not to cry. Slowly, she backed out of the small bathroom and shut the door. She picked up her doctor's bag and went up the stairs to the loft. Before she was halfway up, she heard steps behind her, and turned to see Monica hurrying after her.

The loft was spacious with a sloping ceiling from the cabin's A- frame. The back wall was entirely glass, with a tranquilizing view of the forest. The furnishings were sparse: a dresser, nightstand, and queen-sized bed. A few feet from the bed, a sleeping bag and pillow were laid out. Someone had slept up here last night to tend to Junie.

"She had a bad night," Monica said.

Scully sat on the side of the bed and looked down at Junie. She felt mixed emotions: jealousy at this woman who witnessed William grow into the beautiful little boy she saw sleeping in the bathtub; gratitude that she and her husband were so willing to sacrifice and fight to protect him.

Scully's visual examination of Junie wasn't promising. Her skin was pale, her breathing was shallow and labored, her eyes were black and blue--'raccoon eyes'--and her skin was slightly blue. When Scully lifted her hand to take her pulse, Junie's eyes opened and she whimpered in fear.

"It's okay, Junie," Monica said softly. "It's okay. I'm here." Junie seemed comforted by Monica's presence, but continued to watch Scully. "This is Dana Scully," Monica continued. "She's a doctor. She's going to look after you."

Scully concentrated on the task at hand, trying to block out all thoughts about her patient being William's mother. It took all the professionalism she could muster.

"Mrs. Van de Kamp," she said calmly. "I need to examine your chest. Just relax. It'll only take a moment." She lifted the sheet and was surprised to see that Junie was still dressed.

"We were afraid to move her much," Monica whispered in explanation.

Scully nodded and unbuttoned Junie's blouse. Her ribs were broken. Her chest moved in an odd fashion, not coordinated with her breathing. Scully frowned. Paradoxical breathing, she diagnosed. She was using her abdominal muscles to breathe. A lung had likely collapsed.

When she listened intently with her stethoscope, she could hear the distinct crackling of fluid in the lungs. Breath sounds had indeed decreased severely on one side confirming her suspicion of a collapsed lung. If Junie was to survive, she'd need a chest tube, and likely a vascular surgeon as well. But Scully thought her injuries were too grave for her to survive much longer.

When Scully examined Junie's head, she found bluing around the base of her skull, signaling a basilar skull fracture. Blood was already collecting inside her head increasing the pressure to very high levels. Scully knew eventually the pressure would simply crush the brain underneath and cause herniation. Even with surgical intervention, Junie was likely to die.

When Scully finished her examination and walked down the stairs, she was surprised to see Doggett looking at himself in the mirror on the wall by the front door.

"I look like shit, Agent Scully," he said ruefully when she approached.

Scully couldn't suppress a bittersweet smile. "Yeah, John, you do," she agreed.

Doggett ran his hand over the top of his head. "I think I'll get Monica to cut the rest of my hair short so it doesn't look so bad."

Scully put her hand on his arm. "I'll do it, John. Come over--"

"I think you have enough on your plate, Agent Scully," Doggett interrupted, pulling away from her.

Scully looked at him for a long while, wondering at Doggett's sudden formality and the stiff awkwardness of his body language. Something was clearly on his mind, and she thought she knew what it was. She frowned and moved closer to him.

"You know what Skinner wants me to do?" Scully whispered, glancing furtively at Skinner who was sound asleep on the sofa.

Doggett opened the door and pulled Scully outside. "Yeah, I know what he wants you to do, Agent Scully, and if you and the Assistant Director are gonna commit premeditated murder, I'm outta here. Even if I have to walk back to D.C. I won't be a party to it!"

Scully put her hand on his arm and tried to calm him. "She isn't going to make it, John, whether I do anything or not."

"Then we should take her to a hospital, dammit!" Doggett jerked his arm away from her and turned to leave.

"She wouldn't survive the trip, John," Scully tried to explain. "Her injuries...." She sighed and tried again. "The trip would kill her and cause her more suffering."

Doggett spun around. "So you're just gonna do this? You're gonna let that woman die out here?"

"Do you think I want this? I didn't ask for this, Agent Doggett," Scully replied, becoming agitated herself.

He regarded her coolly. "Maybe you didn't ask for it, Agent Scully, but you can't say you don't welcome it."

The sound of Scully's slap across his face echoed throughout the forest. They looked at each other in astonishment. After a moment, Doggett rubbed the angry mark across his cheek; Scully gazed down at her hand as if it weren't a part of her body. When her eyes returned to him, they were full of anger and reproachment.

"Do you honestly think I would let an innocent woman die so I could have William back?" she seethed, furiously blinking back angry tears.

Before Doggett could respond, they were interrupted by Monica's strident summons.

"Agent Scully!"

Scully and Doggett turned in tandem. Monica was at the cabin's doorway.

"It's Junie," Monica said, breathlessly. "Something's wrong. Please hurry," she said and then ducked back in the cabin.

Scully ran in behind her and up to the loft. She found Junie gasping for air, her eyes wide with fear. She kept trying to form words, but failed with each rattling breath.

"Don't try to speak Mrs. Van de Kamp, you're very ill." Scully tried to reassure her, but Junie remained agitated.

With surprising strength, she grabbed Scully by the lapels and pulled her down. Between dry lips she whispered, "Please don't let them get my son."

The plea seemed to drain all of Junie's strength, and Scully felt her grip lessen slowly. Suddenly, Junie started making a deep gurgling sound, and her pupils became fixed and dilated. After a moment, her breathing stopped completely, and Scully lost her pulse. She tried to resuscitate Junie, but to no avail.

Junie was dead.

Scully felt as though a hand had closed around her throat. She stood silently and looked down at Junie's lifeless body. Without realizing it, she crossed herself, something she hadn't done outside a church for a long, long time. She reached for the sheet and pulled it over Junie's head.

"What did she say, Dana?"

Scully looked up and met Monica's concerned eyes. It was nobody's business but hers. Hers and Junie's. Scully shook her head, fighting the tears that pricked her eyes. She turned and walked blindly away from the bed, nearly colliding with Doggett who was lurking just a few feet behind her. She pushed past him and met Skinner at the landing. His brow furrowed when he saw her.

She was angry at Skinner and knew she shouldn't be. He hadn't asked for this. But knowing he wasn't to blame didn't stop her feelings of hopelessness and anger. She wanted to lash out at him, at Doggett, at Monica, at everything and everyone associated with the X-Files.

At Mulder, who had left her desperately alone.

She was tired of the cycle of pain and death. She ached all over.

"Get out of my way!" she growled wearily at Skinner. When he didn't move, she sighed and put her hand purposefully on his chest. "I said, get out--"

"Mama!"

Scully froze at William's cry. William was at the bottom of the stairs, trying desperately to get his foot up on the first step.

"Mama!" he cried again.

Scully rushed down the stairs and whisked William up in her arms. "It's okay, baby," she said. "It'll be okay."

William looked at her, looked right through her, and then struggled to get away. "Mama! Mama!" he called out over and over.

Realization hit Scully like a slap on the face. It was Junie he wanted, not her.

"Shhh, baby," she cooed. "I'll take you to see your Mama."

As soon as Scully spoke, William stopped struggling. His expression stilled and grew serious.

"Do you know who I am, William?" she asked tearfully, wondering whether he understood.

William stiffened, and after what seemed like hours to Scully, slowly nodded. He looked at her warily.

She felt a chill race up her spine.

"What did you do with Junie's body?" Scully demanded.

Fatigue and jet lag had finally overtaken her after she took William upstairs to say goodbye to Junie. She had collapsed on the sofa and it was dark when she woke.

Skinner knelt at the fireplace, stoking the fire. He turned to look at her briefly and then returned to his task. "She's in the storage shed out back with her husband's body," he said, stabbing fiercely at a log with the poker. He stood abruptly, and trudged the few steps to the sofa where he collapsed in exhaustion. His head fell back against the cushion.

"I hurt everywhere," he said after a moment. He snorted a laugh. "I haven't had the shit beat out of me since before Krycek died."

Scully nodded. She reached out and grasped his hand, and was rewarded with a gentle squeeze. They sat in silence for a moment. Scully looked around the room. She stiffened suddenly. "Where's William?" she asked.

There was another reassuring squeeze of her hand. "He's out back with John and Monica," Skinner said. "I believe they're chasing fireflies."

Scully smiled, trying to imagine the hard-nosed Doggett chasing fireflies with a toddler. Then she remembered his murdered son. She shook her head. There'd been too much pain and suffering in their lives.

"That's something I have to see for myself," she said, moving to look out the back door.

Outside, a kerosene lamp lit the small clearing behind the cabin. Monica was perched atop a red picnic table with one hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her laughter. William bounded around the clearing, chasing one firefly and then another.

"Jesus, I forgot how much energy two-year-olds have," Doggett gasped, laughing. He was bent over, hands on knees, breathing heavily. "He's worn out this old man."

"You're not old, John," Scully said, stepping into the light. She hoped he would read her words as an apology for their earlier argument.

Doggett straightened and studied her intently, his countenance darkening. Reflectively, he rubbed his jaw where Scully had struck him earlier. She cringed inwardly.

Doggett crossed the clearing and hopped up on the picnic table beside Monica. The smile returned to his face as he watched William gambol about the clearing. "Well, I may be an old man, but when I look at him," he said, tapping his chest above his heart, "I feel...I feel good."

Monica put her arm around Doggett and kissed him gently on the cheek. He leaned into her, but his eyes locked with Scully's. "He makes me feel good, too," Scully mouthed, and Doggett gave her a lopsided grin before turning his attention back to William.

Scully watched William play for awhile and then called to him, "Time for your bath, William."

William regarded her impishly and then scampered away. Doggett caught the boy as he raced past the picnic table and lifted him over his head.

"C'mon champ," Doggett said. William giggled and squirmed as Doggett swung him around before handing him to Scully.

"Again! Again!" William squealed, reaching for Doggett and struggling to get out of Scully's grasp. When Doggett didn't take him, William started crying.

"It's okay, William, Mom...I'll look after you," Scully said, struggling with squirming boy.

William turned in her arms to look at her. His face took on an alarming shade of red and his pupils dilated. When he couldn't push away from her, he began to scream. Flustered, Scully put him down. The boy dashed behind Doggett's legs.

"Hey, what's this all about?" Doggett said crossly. He reached down to hand William back to Scully. The boy gripped his pant leg and began to scream again.

"It's okay, John, he's had a rough day," Scully said, trying to appear calm. "Why don't you take him?"

"You sure?"

"Yes, I think it's for the best."

Doggett hoisted William onto his shoulder. "C'mon buddy, let's get you cleaned up."

Scully watched them pensively as they went into the bathroom. Reyes came up behind her and put her hand on Scully's shoulder. "It's okay, Dana. William has to be overwhelmed by everything that's happened. He might not understand it all, but he has to know.... Two-year olds can be amazingly perceptive...."

"It was more than that, Monica," Scully interrupted tightly.

"What do you mean?"

Scully shook her head. "I don't know. I guess I'm just tired," she said, rubbing her eyes.

"Why don't you turn in for the night? Doggett and I can look after William. There's nothing much else to do."

Skinner walked up to them. "Agent Reyes is right, Agent Scully," he said. "Get your rest." He looked at her pointedly. "We all need to be fresh tomorrow."

Scully averted her eyes at his intense stare. "Good night, Monica. Good night, sir."

In bed, Scully stared at the ceiling, chilled by a creeping feeling of dread. When she tried to close her eyes, she saw her son, red- faced and screaming. She heard Monica's words, 'Two-year olds can be amazingly perceptive.'

She saw the terror in William's eyes as he looked at her.

'God, I hope not,' she prayed.

In her dream, she saw a tow-haired boy gamboling along the shoreline. He appeared to be ten or eleven years old, paralleling the waves on sturdy legs. Sitting on a sand dune, Scully shielded her eyes against the sudden glare.

"Who is that?" she asked the young woman with auburn-tinged hair sitting beside her.

"Don't you know?"

She looked at the young woman, her brow furrowing. "Should I?"

The young woman stood up and called out to the boy: "William, come here!"

Scully gasped. "That's William? That's my son?"

The young woman smiled as the boy ran up beside her, panting from his exertion. She put her arm around his shoulders protectively.

Scully reached out to touch the boy's face. He grinned sheepishly. "He's...you're so beautiful," she said, half laughing, half crying.

The young woman frowned when Scully touched the boy. "William, time to go," she announced.

"No!" Scully cried. "Please, let him stay with me!" As she reached desperately for the boy, her nails grazed his cheek. He backed away, wincing in pain.

The young woman yelled and grabbed Scully's arms. As they tangled together, the woman's hair fell away from the back of her neck.

Scully saw the scar.

"Mommy, let him go."

Scully fell backwards into the sand, her hand landing in a pool of water. She looked down at her reflection. The cruel features of the Alien Bounty Hunter stared back.

Scully jerked awake, shaking and gasping for breath. Disoriented, she leapt out of bed and stumbled into the living room. The room was quiet except for the sound of Skinner's snoring from the overstuffed couch. Grabbing an afghan from the chair, she opened the screen door silently and slipped onto the porch. The cold air was bracing.

She leaned against the porch rail. Tentatively, her fingers sought the small scar at the back of her neck. She sighed, and her breath condensed in the air.

She knew exactly what she had to do. Everything was suddenly clear.

Horrifically, horribly, terribly clear.

"Footprints in the snow!" Doggett yelled, exploding into the living room from the outside. The mid-afternoon sun streamed through the windows.

"What do you mean?" Skinner asked, rising from the kitchen table.

Doggett grabbed a rifle and tossed another one to Skinner. "I was out getting some firewood. There are prints leading from the woods all around the cabin." He glanced around the cabin. "Where's William?"

"He's having a nap," Monica said, emerging from one of the bedrooms.

Skinner threw on his coat. "Agent Doggett and I will check this out. Agent Reyes, stay with William. Scull--"

"Wait," Scully said, coming down the stairs from the loft. "Wait."

"We can't wait! If the Bounty Hunter is out there--"

"It's not the Alien Bounty Hunter. And it's not one of the Super Soldiers," she said, firmly. The room quieted.

"I'm going outside," she said, putting on her coat as she moved towards the door.

"Dana!" Monica exclaimed, moving towards her.

"It's okay, Monica," she said, smiling softly. She looked at Skinner and Doggett. "I'll be fine. Stay here."

The snow crunched under her feet as she walked to the middle of the clearing. The sun felt agreeably warm on her face. She looked back towards the cabin and the three anxious faces pressed against the windows. She smiled.

A flash of color along the tree line caught her eye. She froze in her tracks. She heard the soft snap of a twig.

"It's okay," she called out. "You can come out."

Slowly, a figure emerged from the trees. "Did someone call for a cab?" The voice was warm honey over gravel.

She stood before him, taking in his lean frame, the two-day growth of beard, the smattering of gray in his hair. And his eyes. His sad, sad eyes. "You're late," she said, breathlessly.

"One year too late," he agreed. And then she was in his arms, crushed against his lips and body, as if he could physically pull her into his being. Her fingers trailed up his back to the back of his neck. Surreptitiously, the pads of her fingers lightly traced along the area until he abruptly captured her hands in his.

"It's me," he said simply.

"Mulder," she whispered against his cheek, wetting it with her tears.

"It's okay, it's okay," he crooned in her ear. He held her face tenderly in his hands, sweeping his thumbs along her cheeks to wipe away her tears. "Hey, I think we've got company," he said, gesturing over her shoulder towards the cabin. She turned to see Skinner loping towards them.

"Mulder, you sonofabitch!" he hollered. He enveloped both of them in a bear hug. "What are you doing...how did you get here?"

Mulder laughed and clasped him on the shoulder. "Good to see you too, Walter!"

"Let's get you both into the cabin," Skinner said, standing back to regard them warmly. "It's freezing out here."

Arms around each other's waist, Mulder and Scully trudged towards the cabin. "Welcome back, Mulder," Doggett said, shaking his hand vigorously at the door.

"Thanks, Agent Doggett," replied Mulder, grinning. "You can put away the hardware," he added, nodding towards the rifle in Doggett's hand. "I'm harmless."

"Mulder," Monica called from the hallway. "Welcome home. I have someone with me who'd like to see you." She led a saucer-eyed William by the hand.

Mulder froze. Disentangling himself from Scully, Skinner, and Doggett, he approached the boy quietly. As Mulder knelt down, William stuck a finger in his mouth and tottled backwards slightly towards Monica.

"It's okay, William," Monica said, pushing him gently towards Mulder.

"Hello, William," Mulder said quietly. "It's been awhile. I haven't seen you since you were a baby," he choked. "You've really grown. You're a big boy now, aren't you?"

William nodded gravely, and Mulder chuckled. He reached out tentatively and touched the boy's hair. "His hair's darkened a bit," Mulder said to Scully, looking at her over his shoulder, "but he still has your coloring." He turned back to the boy. "You're a handsome fellow."

William nodded again, and they all laughed. Mulder moved a bit closer to the boy. "You know, William, it's been a long time since I held a little boy in my arms. May I pick you up?" He opened his arms as the boy moved cautiously towards him.

Rising with the boy in his arms, Mulder turned to look at Scully again. She gasped at the similarity between the two. William may have her coloring, but his facial structure, the shape of his eyes, his nose--he was a Mulder through and through. She smiled tremulously as Mulder kissed William on his silken cheek. He hitched William against his hip and walked towards her.

Almost immediately, the boy began to struggle. Mulder frowned. "What's wrong?"

"He's been a bit fussy." Scully put her arm around Mulder's waist and caressed William's chubby leg.

The boy howled. Behind them, kitchen cabinet doors flew open and glassware crashed to the ground. Doggett ducked as a coffee cup whirled past his head.

"What the hell is going on?!" Doggett cried out.

"Mulder, take William over to the window!" Scully ordered, backing away from them. Stunned, Mulder complied. He set William down, and the child hid behind his legs. The flying glassware came to an abrupt end.

Mulder looked at Scully wide-eyed. She gripped her arms and swept a foot through the broken glass.

"There are some things I need to tell you, Mulder," she said softly.

Five hours and two pots of coffee later, Mulder's debriefing was complete. Scully looked around at the weary faces before her. Skinner, Doggett, and Reyes had taken turns filling in the pieces of the past year. She had said very little, content to sit back and watch Mulder.

'God, he looks tired,' she thought as he leaned his chair against the wall and stared at William playing with building blocks in the other room. She saw the slight thickening of his neck and the worry lines across his forehead. 'Tired and older.'

Doggett interrupted her reverie. "There's one question you haven't answered, Mulder. How the hell did you get here?"

Mulder's eyes flickered to Scully. "Ah," she said, clearing her throat, "I contacted him."

"You contacted him?" Skinner asked incredulously.

"Last night. Before they died, the Gunmen figured out a way that Mulder and I could communicate." She shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"It was a one-shot deal," Mulder added hoarsely. "Only in an emergency situation. After what's happened over the last couple of days...." He trailed off.

"I thought it was the time," Scully finished.

Reyes reached over and patted Mulder's hand gently. "Well, however it happened, it's good that you're here, Mulder." He smiled ruefully.

"It's good that you're here," Reyes continued, "because there are some decisions that have to be made now."

Reyes's statement hung in the air. "Monica's right," agreed Doggett. "What now? We've got to come up with a game plan."

"With all due respect to you," Scully said softly, nodding at Doggett, Skinner, and Reyes, "these are decisions that only Mulder and I can make." Mulder nodded in agreement.

Skinner sighed and stood up from the table. "You're right, of course. Agent Reyes, Agent Doggett, maybe it's time we turned in for the night."

"I'll put William to bed," Monica volunteered.

"No, Scully and I will get him," said Mulder. "C'mon, Will. Let's get you tucked in for the night," he said, clapping his hands enthusiastically as he reached down for the boy. He turned to look at Scully. "Are you coming?"

Scully looked at Mulder and William. She saw the tenderness in Mulder's face. She saw the fear in William's.

"You go ahead. You need some time with him," she said, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Okay," he said, appearing puzzled. He hoisted William onto his shoulders and the boy squealed in delight.

"Good night, William," Scully said faintly as Mulder and William disappeared down the hall.

There was a soft rap on the bedroom door. "Hey Scully, it's me," he called softly.

Propped up in bed, she smiled to herself. "Come in, Mulder."

He entered slowly. "You didn't need to knock," she chided him gently.

He smiled slightly. "I didn't want to presume."

He sat down beside her, took her hand in his, and kissed it. She sighed at the feel of his lips on her skin. He held her hand against his cheek. "He's a beautiful boy, Scully, so beautiful," he said huskily, his eyes gimlet in the lantern-light of the room.

"Yes, he is. He's wonderful," she said. "He seemed to thrive with the Van de Kamps..." she said, her voice trailing off.

"They must have been good people," he smiled, capturing her chin with his hand. He shifted closer to her. "The decisions you've had to make...the choices...."

She gripped him fiercely by the arms. "Mulder, there's so much I need to tell you," she cried. "So much has happened. So much is going to happen...."

His kiss was swift and direct. She felt herself tumble backwards onto her pillow. He perched himself above her and brushed an errant strand of hair away from her face.

"Here and now, Scully. Let's keep it-this--in the here and now."

She looked up at him, a frown creasing between her eyes. "You've changed."

"What do you mean?"

She thought for a moment. "Since I've known you, you've never really lived...never been part of the present. Your past--your sister, what happened with your family-has defined who you are." The frown between her eyes deepened. "And the future. You left William and me because of the future."

His face was inscrutable. "I've learned how to live in the moment."

She pulled him down to her until his face was inches from hers. "Mr. Here-and-Now," she whispered. His eyes were feral. He brought his mouth deliberately to hers.

She thought of the Van de Kamps. She thought of William.

His pressure on her mouth increased. She felt a rush of warmth between her legs.

Maybe she was learning to live in the moment, too.

She heard a baby crying.

"William, are you all right?" she called. He was lying motionless in his crib. As she approached, his eyes flicked in her direction and then past her. His pupils dilated and his breathing became rapid. Puzzled, she turned to look behind her.

Knowle Rohrer emerged from the shadows.

Scully backed towards the crib. "Go away!" she shouted. "Don't hurt him!"

"I won't," said a voice behind her. She whirled to find Rohrer holding William.

A sudden sharp pain at the back of her neck made her sink to her knees in agony. Incapacitated, she felt Rohrer place William in her arms. Her arms began to contract involuntarily around the boy. He screamed as the pressure increased.

"But you will," Rohrer intoned dispassionately.

Scully bolted up in bed, covered in a sheen of cold sweat. Mulder jerked awake beside her.

"Scully, what's wrong?" he asked with alarm.

"Mulder," she gasped, reaching for him blindly.

He held her tightly against his chest. "Scully, you're shaking!"

"Mulder, I need to talk to you. I need to talk to you right now about William!" she babbled.

"Okay, okay, I know we have to talk." He rubbed his face sleepily. "I was just hoping it wouldn't be at 3:00 AM," he teased gently.

"Mulder, don't joke! I need your attention!"

"You have it," he said in a placating tone, holding her face in his hands. "You always have it."

She nodded and took a deep breath, willing her heart to stop racing. "Mulder, about William--"

"I know, Scully, I know. We have to take him. We have to protect him. I know some people in New Mexico, we can--

"Mulder, stop," she said, laying her fingers against his lips. He looked at her quizzically.

"You're right, William needs protecting. The question is: who can really protect him?"

He gripped her shoulders. "We can, Scully. We're his parents. We're the only ones who understand what he is, his importance...."

Tears filled her eyes. "Mulder, *we* can't protect him-only *you* can."

He looked at her, dumbfounded. "What do you mean?"

Her throat felt constricted. "Mulder, *I* am a danger to William. As long as *I'm* part of his life, he isn't safe."

"Scully...."

"Listen to me, Mulder."

"No, this is crazy!" he snarled. He ran his fingers through his hair. "Look, I understand that you are concerned about William. I understand that his reactions to you, the way he's been acting, must be disconcerting, but--"

"Mulder, don't you see?" she cried in anguish. "William *knows*--he *knows* about me!"

"What? What can he know?" he demanded, clasping her hand angrily.

Wild-eyed, she turned and pulled her hair away from the back of her neck. He flinched slightly at the sight of her scar. "*This*--*this* is what he knows!"

He shook his head, not comprehending. "Mulder, as long as this chip is in my neck, the Alien Bounty Hunter, the Super Soldiers, and God knows what else, may be able to read my mind, find him, control me-- control my actions--around him," she sobbed.

Mulder sagged against the pillows. Exhausted, Scully straddled him and rested her forehead against his. "Even now, I am a terrible danger to you and William," she said, her voice strangled.

"Scully, what makes you think William is safe with me?" he asked, shaking her gently. "I left you over a year ago because *I* was the target, *I* was the one who was a threat to you and William."

"Mulder, I am not saying this solution is perfect," she whimpered, "but at least They can't control you. It's a trade-off I'm willing to make."

"I'm not," he said petulantly.

She regarded him intently. "Then ask your son."

"Scully..."

"He knows, Mulder."

"He's two-years old."

She rose from the bed and put on Mulder's flannel shirt. "Go get him, Mulder. See for yourself."

He looked at her angrily, and for a moment, she thought he would refuse. Then, pulling on his jeans, he padded out of the room.

'Please God,' she prayed, 'for the safety of my son, please let Mulder *see.*'

She heard Mulder's voice outside the door. "C'mon, sleepy boy. Let's go see Mommy and tell her how wrong she is."

He came into the room holding a drowsy William. "Hello, William," she cooed tenderly.

At the sound of her voice, the boy snapped awake and tightened his grip around Mulder's neck. He squirmed violently.

"William, relax," Mulder grunted, trying to hold onto the struggling boy.

William pretzeled in the unique way of two-year olds and freed himself from Mulder's grasp. Landing on the bed, he began to cry stormily.

Mulder reached for him. "William...."

The nightstand began to shake violently. Scully grabbed for the lantern before it tumbled off the table. The bed rocked against the wall.

Scully grasped William's wrist. "It's okay, William, I know you're scared," she said in a soothing voice." The boy's wails increased in volume.

"William, I'm not going with you!" she said sharply.

The crying stopped abruptly. William looked at her saucer-eyed. "Do you understand, William?" she asked quietly. "I'm not going with you." Tentatively, she sat beside the boy. "Mulder...Daddy will look after you. Do you understand?"

The boy stuffed three fingers in his mouth and began to suck noisily. Slowly, he nodded.

Scully stifled a cry. Mulder slumped against the wall. They sat in silence for several minutes.

Scully glanced over at William now drifting off to sleep. Lovingly, she rubbed the boy's back. "I didn't realize how much I was hoping I was wrong until just this moment," she said achingly.

She picked up William gently, cradled him against her chest, and leaned against her pillow. Mulder stood up and sat beside her. He rested his head on her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Scully."

"Mulder, I packed supplies for you," she said, unhearing. "At first light, you need to leave with William."

"Scully...."

"Mulder, please don't," she interrupted. She looked at him plaintively. The pain in his eyes shattered her heart.

Mulder tangled his fingers in William's silky hair. "We'll leave tomorrow," he said desolately.

They lay down together, William slumbering against Scully's chest. Mulder encircled them in his arms.

"It'll just be for a little while," he said absently, his voice muffled against her ear. "We'll...you'll find a way to negate the chip in your neck."

"Yes, of course," she agreed tearfully.

She thought of the last eight years. As a scientist, she was no closer to understanding the technology now than she was then.

She glanced up at a sleeping Mulder and then down at William. A tear rolled down her cheek as she kissed them.

"Goodbye, my loves," she whispered.

Epilogue

Skinner trudged down the hallway toward Scully's apartment. He was bone tired, but his weariness went far beyond physical fatigue. Of all the things he'd had to do on account of the X-Files, this had been the worst. Innocent people had died. A child had suffered a terrible trauma. And he couldn't even begin to count the number of felonies he'd committed, all in the name of 'The Truth.' And his colleague...his friend...had experienced a heart-wrenching lost.

The first thing he'd done when he returned from Wyoming was take a shower and sleep for ten hours. Then he'd sat down at his desk and typed his letter of resignation from the FBI. He'd saved it to his laptop's hard drive and left it undated. He didn't want to do anything rash, but if he felt the same Monday morning, he would submit it to the Director and then leave the Hoover Building forever. His only regret was knowing how much pleasure it would bring to Al Kersh.

He stopped in front of Scully's door and took a deep breath. He could only imagine how difficult it had been for her to give up her son a second time, even if it was to Mulder. He understood why she'd done it, and he understood what it really meant: Mulder and Scully could never be together, not as long as that chip was in her neck. Not as long as the aliens and their human confederates were still alive. Was there ever a better example of star-crossed lovers?

He knocked. He waited. Finally, he heard a slow shuffle from behind the door. It stopped, and he knew he was being examined through the peephole. He wondered for a moment whether she would open the door. He was hardly the harbinger of good news these days.

The door opened. Scully stood at the door, looking every bit as weary as he felt, and motioned him in. It was only five in the afternoon, but she was already in pajamas and a bathrobe. He wondered whether she'd gotten dressed today at all.

"When did you get back?" Scully asked dully after they'd settled on her sofa.

"Early this morning," he said.

"What took you so long?" she asked, chuckling weakly. Skinner appreciated her small attempt at a joke to reduce the tension in the room, but he still had to glance away from the pain in her tired blue eyes.

Skinner huffed a small laugh and rubbed his hand over his face. It had taken him three days to cover their tracks back in Wyoming. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small paper.

"I thought you'd want to see this," he said. He handed her the clipping from the Wyoming Tribute-Eagle. In bold letters, the headline proclaimed: "Local Family Killed by Grizzlies." He waited while Scully read the news story. When she looked up at him, her eyes were filled with tears.

"How?" she choked out.

He shook his head. "Don't ask."

She looked away from him for a moment. When she turned back, she said, "It won't fool them."

"I know, Dana. It wasn't meant to fool them." When Scully's look turned to puzzlement, he added, "I wanted closure for the Van de Kamp family."

Scully nodded, seeming to understand. She looked at the clipping and was silent for a long time. Finally, barely above a whisper, she asked, "Do you think they'll be all right?"

Skinner knew she meant Mulder and William. He'd wondered that himself. How would a man with no child-rearing experience raise a supernatural toddler while hiding from the aliens? He didn't know. He only knew that he couldn't do it.

Scully was looking at him expectantly. 'Tell me what I need to hear,' her eyes entreated him. "Yes," he said, firmly. "Yes, I do."

She began to sob, clasping her hand tightly against her mouth. She leaned into Skinner, and he put his arms around her, holding her close. "I don't know if I can do this," she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

Skinner embraced her tighter, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Yes, you can do this," he said softly. "And Mulder can do this. William will be all right."

He put his hand on her forehead and pulled her away from his chest so she could see his face. "And Monday morning, you'll go to the Academy and teach a class, and one or two of your students will pass out when they see you do an autopsy for the first time...." He grinned when she smiled wanly.

"And maybe later on you'll come to the office for a consult on a case, and Kersh wil be...Kersh..., but Doggett and Reyes will be there...." He thought of the resignation letter on his hard drive. "And I'll be there."

Skinner pulled her to him again and rocked her gently. "It'll be like any other day, and it'll be followed by another day, and then another.. And slowly...slowly...it'll get easier."

Scully shifted in Skinner's arms, resting her cheek against his left bicep. "Do you really believe that, Walter?" she asked, hollowly.

He felt his chest tighten. "I want to--. He stopped abruptly, realizing what he'd almost said. He began again. "I have to believe."

Scully nodded imperceptibly and closed her eyes. She sagged in his arms.

"Hey," he said. "You need to get some rest." He lifted her off the couch, then laid her down and covered her with an afghan. Her eyes were enormous against her pale skin. He stood above her and clasped her hand.

"Get some sleep, Agent Scully," he said more gruffly than he intended, the emotion of the last week beginning to overwhelm him. She squeezed his hand in response.

"I'll see you Monday," Skinner said, moving towards the door.

"Monday," he heard her echo quietly as he pulled the door closed behind him.

*The End*