Title: Their Fondest Memory
Author: Spock
Feedback: always appreciated at spockdaggoo@yahoo.co.uk
Category: MSR
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: the series
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, never did, never will, but I love 'em to
death anyway. I own, Lynn and Katie, though.

Author's note: This story is written in the same post-series universe
as A Fond Memory and Another Fond Memory. You don't have to read those
first, though, cause this one is set chronologically earlier. Besides,
I'll revise those to fit canon.

Summary: It's the year 2024. Mulder and Scully meet the need to
reminisce the time when William was brought home. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 

The Scully/Mulder residence
Virginia
Autumn 2024 

She wanted to look out at the night sky, wanted to see the stars dot
the dark blue canvas, but the prospect of getting out of bed in the
shape she was in, was just not in the cards. The moon was up there,
too, pretty full, she concluded as she let her tired eyes roam the
moonlit half of the bedroom. She sighed at what she saw. Their bedroom
was in perfect disarray. Mulder's dusty and paint-dotted dungarees
were haphazardly tossed over the dresser, dirty socks, t-shirts and
boxer shorts hugged every free surface. The carpet, where she could
still see it, needed some serious hoovering. She said hi to the
dustbunnies she knew resided underneath the bed.

You can't teach an old dog new tricks, she thought with another sigh.
She heard him hum in his sleep, and she held her breath, trying to
discern any words he might utter in his sleep. There were none,
instead she heard the wild abandon of her pulse at her temples. God,
she hated being sick. Really hated it. She felt completely wasted. She
couldn't recognize the feel of her body. This wasn't her, stifling yet
another cough, was it?

She wanted to touch her Love, and she wanted his kisses, but she was
too weak to love him, the way he was supposed to be loved, and it tore
at her soul. She saw the longing in his eyes, every night when he
murmured his love to her, she could see how he fought the need to
touch her more intimately. She wanted his touch, ached for it, but her
body was failing her.

Her stubborn cough and her insistent fever were keeping them apart.
All she could do was to look at her Love, to watch him sleep, she
couldn't sleep 'with' him. The distance between them seemed like
miles. She could barely see his nose, she thought in her lonely
misery. Too far away, my Love, you're too far away, she cried
silently. They had always shared one side of the bed, and now he was
all the way over on the other side, practically abroad.

And then there was the other thing they didn't share, the thing that
was too bitter to even contemplate.

She had yet to see the baby. 

William and Lynn's baby had been delivered three days ago. Her
granddaughter had come into this world, and she hadn't welcomed her.
Mulder had been there. He had hovered outside the delivery room, snuck
in and,  much to William's dismay, her Mate had been holding Lynn's
hand yelling 'Push!' when someone had informed him that the father
should be the one to do that. She had talked to Lynn on the phone,
congratulated the happy mother, but she hadn't seen the baby.

She hadn't been allowed to participate in the preparations for the
baby's homecoming either. Mulder had been over at William and Lynn's
house, helping his son redecorate one of the rooms into a nursery,
while she had been lying in bed, feverish and coughing her lungs sore.

It was unfair.  

Mulder's enthusiastic accounts of the baby's tiny feet, her tiny
hands, her tiny lopsided grin had done little to make the pain go
away. Bless him, he had believed his narrative would help her get
well, that she'd find strength in his words, something to look forward
to. She wanted to see the baby for herself, to see William holding his
baby girl and watch Mulder coo with her. She wanted to be a part of
the experience. She wanted to coo with the baby herself. But her touch
was a peril to the little one, a bitter reality she had a hard time
accepting.

She let her hand cross the space between them, finding his lean and
strong arm. The little one had been cradled there, she knew, because
Mulder hadn't been able to stop talking about how the little baby, who
didn't have a name yet, had felt in his arms. She would be a tall one,
he had declared, her legs were long and lean, and a basket ball career
was just around the corner for her. She wanted to see that for
herself.

It was wholly unfair.  

In a few days William and Lynn would be bringing the baby home, and
she might not be there to welcome the little one. She didn't want to
be out of the loop like this. She had to get well soon.

A nasty cough escaped her lungs and her tears spilled onto her hot
cheeks.

She walked her fingers from his arm to rest over his heart. She felt
its even beat, but it did nothing to alleviate the fierce pounding of
her own. She couldn't resist, the need was too overpowering. She
mustered enough strength, inched close and nestled up against him,
hoping that some of his peacefulness would find its way into her
restless heart.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few days later
William and Lynn's house
Maryland 

"Scully, wait till you see what we've done with the nursery."  

She halted at the bottom of the staircase, turned and faced him. His
eyes were shining with a sense of perfect happiness, a huge grin
adorning his face. She couldn't help being happy herself. Her flu had
decided to move out of her body. She hadn't believed it, but had
embraced the turn of events with open arms. Just like that, her fever
and her cough had evaporated, and she attributed it to her Love.
Finally she would be able to see the baby at the hospital and now she
was about to inspect the nursery, to see in how many ways Mulder had
managed to mess up doing the redecorating of it. She loved him, but
did he know anything about tools? Poor rich kid, he had never learned
to use them tools. Well, it didn't matter what Mulder had done with
that room upstairs, she'd love him anyway.

"Don't tell me you've managed to ruin the nursery with your
wallpapering?" she asked, because he expected her to be skeptical.
She took a firm hold of the banisters for good measure, closing her
eyes, bracing herself for his answer, as if expecting the worst.

Mulder grabbed hold of her waist unexpectedly and scooped her up. She
bit her tongue in surprise and yelped as he started up the stairs,
taking quite a few steps at a time, barely seeing his feet, she
concluded aghast as he almost made her head connect with the wall. She
managed to observe that his eyes were out of focus. His ear-to-ear
grin scared her. What would come of this journey? Would they ascend in
more ways than one?

She held on for dear life. The bounce of his gait was making her
insides churn. He all but danced up the stairs, singing a tune in sync
with his skips. She wanted to tell him to slow down and be careful,
but her breathing came in short gasps. She wanted to remind him that
they were both over sixty and that she had been ill and didn't want to
relapse now that they were planning on going to the hospital for the
baby and her parents. She didn't like the prospect of his back broken
either. She had waited for this day forever, and she didn't want to
risk messing everything up. In the evening she was planning to romance
the socks off her Lover. She held her breath and clutched at his
sweater. Her heart was pounding.

At last they came to the nursery door and he put her down gently. She
swayed on her legs and managed to glare at him, her pulse raging and
her face feeling flushed. Mulder stood perfectly still, looking at the
closed door, and her curiosity won over her agitation. She ran her
fingers through her mussed hair.

"Mulder, what could be so..." Her voice trailed off as Mulder knocked
softly on the nursery door and she heard her son's soft 'Come in'.
Wasn't William at the hospital with Lynn and the baby? She heard
someone downstairs, there was clatter emanating from the kitchen. She
raised an eyebrow at Mulder and he just smiled at her.

"Mulder?" 

He put his hand on the small of her back, as he always did, the
sweetheart, and she waited with baited breath for his next tactics.
Was he going to carry her over the threshold? He had never had reason
to do that since they had never married. He opened the door and guided
her inside the nursery.

As she stepped inside the room, she was greeted by the warm glow of
the evening sun. She looked around, and even though the sun obscured
some of the room for her, she knew the room was beautiful. The
wallpaper was a warm creme color with beige dots, and as she walked to
one wall she could see that the dots were really small sunflowers.
They were glowing in the sun's warm embrace. She turned to Mulder, not
able to hide her affection. He nodded sheepishly, picking a sunflower
seed from his pocket and popping it into his mouth.

She looked around and there were two cute little wooden shelves full
of toys on the wall opposite the window. As her eyes traveled from one
to the other, her eyes settled on the little frame in the space
between them. A little 'I want to believe' poster, in a wooden frame
matching the shelves.

"Your idea?" she asked her Mate softly, feeling warm and fuzzy
inside.

Instead of answering her he nodded towards William where he was
leaning over the little baby bed. He had been working on that thing
for two months now, having designed it himself, devoting each spare
moment to giving it finishing touches. Mulder had kept her up to date
on the entire process, but she hadn't been allowed to see the designs
or pictures of it.

"May I see it, William?" she asked, walking over to him. She felt
Mulder following right behind her.

"You may, Mom," her son spoke gently and she watched him reach down
into the beautiful wooden baby bed, with ornately carved posts. He had
done a terrific job. And Lynn's excellent sewing and crocheting skills
had really come in handy too, judging by the quilt her son was
arranging into the bed.

"It's really beautiful, William," she breathed and stepped closer,
because she wanted to test the smoothness of the railing.

She stood there, right behind her son, waiting for access, as he
straightened his back and turned to face her, holding the quilt folded
in his arms.

"What you got there?" she asked, running her hand over the expertly
sanded railing of the bed, reveling in motherly pride. Her son was
part Scully, she mused. William smiled down at her, inching closer so
that she could see the quilt better.

"The baby..." she gasped as she caught sight of a rosy nose and heard
a snort from somewhere within the folds. William nodded, gazing down
at the little bundle in his arms.

The baby.  

She let her hand fall from the wooden railing, stepped backward, on
wobbly feet, her eyes fixed on that red little nose, she found the
sleeve of Mulder's sweatshirt and clung to it for support.

"Muld..." she managed, quickly losing the clarity of her eyes and the
feel of her legs underneath her. The room seemed to spin all of a
sudden.

"Mom, meet your granddaughter," she thought she heard William say.  

"Mom?" 

William's voice came closer. A part of her still lucid brain informed
her that her son was stepping towards her. She tried to hear him, but
her pulse rang in her ears. She watched her son walk closer and
closer, the image of him blurred, but she recognized the color of his
shirt. Cerulean blue. Mulder screamed something into her ear, or did
he whisper, she wasn't sure. She winced and felt him hold her more
tightly, and somehow, the pain made her see clearly.

Suddenly she could see the baby's tiny arms, the way they were fencing
air.

Fencing.  

Fighting.  

She closed her eyes from the sight. She couldn't help it. Every muscle
within her just gave in, and her knees gave away.

Her baby.  

Little William. 

Oh, God, she thought. Not this. Not now.  

The smell of the air outside her apartment when she just let those
people take little William away. The look on little William's face
when he was strapped into an unfamiliar baby seat. The toys she hadn't
parted with. The boy she had parted with. His crying rang in her ears.
His baby-blue hat had been the last thing she saw when those people
drove away with him.

She could see those images so clearly in her head. They came crashing
into her senses and the floor beneath her was gone. Oblivion was
already waiting for her, and she would have surely fallen, if Her Love
hadn't caught her.

He lifted her up. He turned her gently towards him. She leaned into
his warm chest and buried her face in his sweater, letting his strong
arms hold her up. His strong arms.

She lost track of time. Her Love surrounded her. He was making sure
she would return to him. Her Mate was going to ease her pain. Mulder
was there. Mulder would help her.

Seeing William with his baby had brought back a time she had fought to
forget. She couldn't help the guilt that washed over her heart. She
couldn't help but let the regret take her over. She had let go of
William, the most precious thing she had ever owned. She had given him
up. She had stood there in the street, passive and numb, watching the
car disappear around the corner. She had done nothing. Nothing but let
him go.

She had stood there swallowing her tears. Monica had helped her
through the door to her empty apartment, because she had been too numb
to manage on her own. She had told Monica to leave, that she needed to
be alone. She had closed the door to her bedroom behind her and had
fallen to her knees in utter grief. She wouldn't have to go through
that again. She wouldn't let this little girl down like that would
she?

"Hey, grandma..." Mulder murmured from somewhere above her. She
couldn't reply. Couldn't look up at him, or at her son and his baby.
Not yet. She could only clutch at Mulder's sweatshirt and hope to hear
the thump of his heart because it soothed her like nothing else could.
Her Love. The one she had always held close. The one she hadn't
forsaken.

In the emptiness of her apartment, she had sobbed for her baby boy.
Vehement, desperate tears that had scarred her for ever, tears that
had etched her face like no hands of time ever had, tears that had
tormented her such a long time, and now, it seemed, those tears would
never fully dry, because she hadn't forgiven herself. William had
forgiven her a thousand times over, but she had never made peace with
herself. She would mess up again, she feared, mess up and let
something happen to William's child. She would fail her.

"Hey, none of that..." she thought she heard Mulder whisper, stroking
her hair.

She clung to her Love.  

"Shh, baby..." Mulder spoke softly, tilting her head up with gentle
fingers, cupping her face and drying her tears with his fingers. He
tucked strands of her hair behind her ears. She tried to open her eyes
to look at him, but her heart was still heavy. She knew she'd cry for
a little while yet. She needed to cleanse herself of that time, to be
able to greet her grandchild with a steady and open heart. She had to
be strong. For William. For herself.

She lingered in Mulder's embrace, knowing Mulder would hold her as
long as she needed to be held.

A few minutes passed in silence, but then she heard it, the distinct
coo of an infant, and she had to open her eyes. Her heart was thumping
irregularly, yet she managed to turn her face towards her son, where
he now stood in the halo of a beautiful setting sun. She had to lift
her hand to block out the brightness.

"Okay," she breathed, lowering her hand, closing her eyes, allowing
the bright rays free reign over her face.

"You sure?" Mulder murmured to the top of her head. She nodded, her
eyes still closed.

She had to do this. William was waiting, the baby was getting
impatient. She thought of the two of them standing a few feet away.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," she managed in a whisper, deciding to open
her eyes, squinting them until she dared to stand on her own. She
stepped into William's shadow and took a few more steps so that she
could see his features.

"The Bad Memories?" William asked, sympathy written all over his
face. She nodded reluctantly and stepped closer to him. He was
cradling his child so gently. Tentatively she stretched out to cup
William's cheeks. Maybe she could do this? Rejoice with her son? She
stroked his face with her palm, and he leaned into her touch.

Once William's cheeks had been chubby and peachy, now they felt taut
and stubbly under her hand. Her son had become a father, at
twenty-three. He had found love so early on in his life, unlike his
parents, he had married, and only after having known Lynn for a year.
They had found each other, recognized the bond between them and had
gone for it. Without hesitation they had taken the plunge.

She and Mulder had tortured themselves forever, and their child had
learned from their mistakes. If you found love you should hold on to
it, with both hands.

Looking at William now, she could see that he bore the signs of
fatherly pride. She could see it in his countenance. His eyes shone
with it. Just like Mulder's eyes had shone with it all those years
ago. The two men were so alike in the way their faces showed emotion.

William was fidgeting a little, waiting for her to acknowledge the
baby's presence in his arms, and she withdrew her hand from his cheek.
Could she? Could she take this child to her bosom? Would she be torn
away from her, too? William had told her over and over again, that he
had understood why she had given him up for adoption. Her son had
tried his best to convince her he held no grudge. Yes. She swallowed
her hesitation. She had to do this. Slowly she lowered her gaze to the
little one.

She let her eyes travel from William's right arm, over the short
expanse of quilt, covering the baby's legs. She was kicking adamantly.
A soccer player, rather, she mused. Finally her eyes reached the
baby's face. The baby blinked her eyes and seemed to focus on her
father. Scully looked up at William and saw that he was on the brink
of tears. His eyes were full of devotion. She swallowed emotion and
returned her gaze to the little one. The baby looked like a gigantic,
constipated raisin, she mused, but she would not tell her son that.
She'd reproach Mulder later for not having relayed this nugget of
information to her. But the baby was beautiful, though. Her eyes were
big and inquisitive, her nose a determined red button in the center of
her face and her mouth slightly ajar, ready to speak her
unintelligible language.

She reached out to the baby's tiny hand, which peeked forth from the
cocoon of pink quilt. Immediately the precious little fingers gripped
her index finger in a tight hold. She gasped at the strength of her
grandchild's little digit. At the grip she found herself
helplessly transported to the time when William had first held her
finger like that.

In the roar of the helicopter, little William's first living hour, the
little guy had searched his mother's pinky to hold on to. The trip to
the nearest hospital had lasted ten minutes, or maybe it was more, she
had been mesmerized by her baby's hold of her finger. She had a memory
of Mulder holding them close, trying to protect his little baby from
the godawful noise of their transportation, his jacket wrapped around
little William. William's tiny hand had squeezed her pinky, and she
had felt so complete.

How could she ever have let him go?  

The baby squeezed a little harder, and she willed the painful memory
away.

"What are you going to call her?" she heard Mulder ask from behind
her, yet she was not able to drag her eyes from the little
raisin-face, sensing that tears were ready to surface. She had already
fallen in love with the little girl that was holding on to her so
strongly. The little baby seemed to need her.

"Katherine." 

William said the name reverently, looking down at his child with utter
and complete affection. She tried to swallow her tears so as not to
seem too emotional, but her tears were more determined at that moment
than her will could ever be. Her namesake, she thought, tears clogging
her throat. Would she let her son down? Would he regret having named
his baby after her? She felt Mulder's arms snake around her waist and
his warm chest press into her back. He was moved by the choice of name
too. She heard him sniffle behind her.

"Little Katie, eh?" Mulder whispered hoarsely over her shoulder and
squeezed her. It hurt a little. Her sides were still sore from all the
coughing she had been doing. The baby squeezed her finger again, as if
to make a point, as if to make her forget her soreness and concentrate
on the moment at hand. She wanted to chuckle at the child's need for
attention. She really should focus, shouldn't she?

"You wanna hold her?"  

William's question took her by surprise and she unintentionally
withdrew her finger from Katie's hand. The baby wailed
unappreciatively. She regretted her reaction. Holding the baby was the
most natural thing to do in a situation like this. Grandparents were
entitled to hold their baby grandchildren, it was not only their
right, but their duty as well, and Scully knew it was also her wish.
But she wasn't altogether sure her arms were strong enough. She was
still too emotional to take on such a grand task, too weak.

She turned in Mulder's embrace and to her relief he nodded at her. She
felt his arms release the hold of her. He stepped over to William, his
arms outstretched. William handed little Katie over to Mulder. Both
men were totally mesmerized by the little one, yet William soon began
instructing Mulder in the fine art of holding babies. Mulder muttered
his replies, explaining to his son he had done it before. God, she
loved both of them so much. They were so alike, not in appearance but
in almost every other way. Their bickering was just so endearing. She
knew Mulder was gentle, he had always held little William with such
tenderness. She had witnessed that tenderness in William, too, these
past few moments she had already seen it. She knew her granddaughter
would be safe with them.

She looked at her own arms.  

Her thoughts were drifting again, drifting back in time, to her old
apartment in Georgetown.

Mulder just entered her bedroom. She stood up from the bed, holding
their baby she walked over to Mulder and handed the baby to him. The
look in Mulder's eyes, his smile melted away whatever hesitation she
had harbored. That moment had been the first time she had truly, with
all her heart and with every corner of her soul, believed that Mulder
loved her.

She touched his elbow now, to share the moment with him.  

She watched the men in her life look at the little girl, and she knew
this child would not be abandoned or forsaken, not given up to
strangers or threatened. They would all protect her. They had to.

Mulder turned to her and scrunched up his face.  

"Hey, granny," he said, trying to sound like a week-old girl, but he
wasn't very convincing, she mused, knowing exactly what he was trying
to achieve. She smiled at him, how could she not? He returned her
smile.

Mulder held Katie's tiny hand and waved it at her. Poor Katie didn't
know what awaited her, she thought as she looked at the wide-eyed
newborn, cooing baby, seemingly enjoying the aerobics. William wasn't.
She observed how her son looked on, miffed at Mulder's tactics. What
would it be like to have Mulder as a grandfather, she wondered, but
when Mulder and the baby inched closer to her, her earlier hesitation
came back in full force.

"Me?" she asked meekly, looking down at her arms again. Her arms had
betrayed her little boy, how could she hold his little girl?

Mulder inched closer to her. 

"Katie, wanna be held by granny?" Mulder cooed, and she had to look at
the baby. She saw the baby roll her eyes at Mulder. Mulder saw it,
too, and they were both momentarily muted.

"Scully, one plump little relative up for grabs," Mulder finally
managed hoarsely, emphasizing the word 'relative' due to what had just
occurred.

Scully exchanged eye rolls with her son, inwardly perfectly moved by
Mulder's words. What would she have done without him? Well, that was a
redundant question, wasn't it? She would never have gotten William
back. She would never have been handed such a treasure as little
Katie.

Swallowing her lingering hesitation she took the baby from Mulder's
strong arms.

She looked down at the tiny person she was holding. Katie was flailing
her tiny arms and kicking her baby feet and the rest of the world
seemed to fade away. All the restlessness she had experienced lately
was instantly pushed into the background of this new memory. A memory
she would always treasure.

This was real. This little bundle in her arms was the future, sprung
from another whom she and Mulder had fought for. This little mite was
what she had to fight for from now on. She might fail, but she would
try her damnedest not to.

She looked up into Mulder's face and saw a grandfather, a proud,
on-the-brink-of-tears grandfather, momentarily lost in reverie. Just
like he had been when baby William had fallen asleep in his arms that
first time. Mulder had looked so hopeful for the future. There had
been no lines of worry on his face. Little had he known, she would let
him down. In the worst way.

"William..." she whispered, sensing a new wash of tears threatened to
spill on to her cheeks. She gave Katie back to her son. She had to get
out. She needed air.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A week later
The Scully / Mulder residence 
Virginia 

He heard a muffled sound from across the table and looked up from his
lasagna at her.

"Scully?"

He said her name softly, but she didn't answer, instead he saw a tear
on her cheek, and it hurt him physically. He put his fork down on the
edge of his plate, wiping sauce from the corner of his mouth with the
back of his hand and looked at his Love. She was staring into
nothingness, patting the tablecloth in slow circles. He heard her
sigh.

When was she going to get out of the funk she was in? What was going
on with his Mate? Ever since their visit to Wills' house, she'd barely
spoken to him.

He had hoped the incident at Wills' that first visit with Katie had
been shock. Scully hadn't been prepared to see the baby at that
particular time, she had been surprised is all. Yet, their daily
visits to Wills, Lynn and the little one hadn't cheered her up.
Nervous, he fidgetted in his chair. How long could he watch her like
this? He wanted to give her privacy, time to work things out on her
own, she had always been strong enough to manage, but this was
becoming ridiculous.

"Does it bother you that I cry?"  

He registered her question, saw the sad expression on her face and
knew he had to hold her. They were sitting at their kitchen table,
facing each other, and his Love was too far away. He got up and
rounded the table and reached out his hand to her, determined to
change things.

"Scully..."  

She nodded, took his hand, her eyes remaining downcast, and he knew
with complete certainty that whatever she needed to get off her chest,
it had to happen sooner rather than later, and that he wanted to be
close to her, be able to hold her, because he needed to feel her as
much as she obviously needed his shoulder. He hated seeing her like
this, so diminished. He had hated it all those years ago, and he hated
it now. He needed to kiss away her worry, her sadness, and if that
didn't help, he'd have to hold her as close as he could. He'd have to
squeeze the pain right out of her if necessary.

He really wanted to make love to her, it had been quite a while, maybe
intimacy would help.

He was glad that she stood up and followed him without question. He
strode into the semi-dark den, lit only by the green fluorescence of
the fish tank in the far corner. He walked over to the creaky old
couch, sat down and patted his knee, tugging at her hand, letting her
know she was welcome there. She hesitated a little, seemingly
wondering whether she should let him hold her like this, and he winced
at that. What was wrong? Was she sick again? Worried that she'd
infect him in case she was?

"C'mere."

He needed to console her and he pulled her gently into his lap and
gathered her close.

"Scully..."

This was the way they had always talked about things that mattered.
This was the way they had started their relationship in her apartment
all those years ago, it had been the way they had comforted each other
when colonization was at hand and they had had to gather strength and
courage to fight it. He was determined to continue the tradition for
as long as she agreed to it and his legs would carry her weight.
Judging by her still toned figure it would be long before the
tradition would be given up. He would never give it up, he decided
with determination, not even if Scully suddenly went humongous on him
either.

He held her close. To his relief she lifted her eyes to him and he
took the opportunity to gaze into her eyes, showing his resolve to
make it all better, whatever it was, and to his surprise she leaned
close and kissed him on the nose. He had to smile. Scully had shown
him during the two decades of their co-habitation that she loved his
nose. A lot. She'd kiss it more often than his lips, even.

The past month he had missed her soft kisses terribly. They had always
kissed a lot. In the mornings, before lunch, after lunch, during
lunch, while doing the dishes, in the shower, at the mall, well, at
every opportune moment they had given and stolen kisses. But in recent
weeks they hadn't, partly because of her flu, but also because she had
seemed reluctant to. The kiss she had just given him gave him hope
that he'd not lost her entirely. He leaned in to capture her lips
between his, but caught a grimace and knew they weren't out of the
woods yet.

"Do you want me to sing 'Joy to the World', Scully?"  

Her lips didn't twitch. Her eyes remained somber. What on earth had
made him ask that question? He worried his lower lip with his teeth,
quickly deciding on gentle directness, stroking her back as he
murmured his next question.

"Scully, tell me what's been bothering you."  

Just as soon as he had asked the question he saw another single tear
meander its way down her cheek. The lone tear reflected the green
light of his aquarium before reaching her jaw and falling onto his
sweater. Mesmerized he watched the stain of it grow from a tiny point
into a one-inch oval, before disappering into the fabric. He knew he
wanted to prevent other such signs of her sadness by getting to the
source of her pain. And suddenly it hit him.

"Is it what Wills said? Is it the memories of...giving him up?"  

He didn't want to mention that time. Once they had gotten William
back, they had both decided that they weren't going to dwell on it
anymore. It was all in the past, and their family was intact. But now,
watching her, he feared that not talking about it, had been the wrong
way to go.

"If you want to talk about it, sweetheart..."  

She straightened her back suddenly, and looked him straight in the
eye.

"I don't."  

Her confident reply came as a surprise to him, and he was momentarily
at a loss for words and he stopped caressing her back. She
didn't want to address the problem? Was this denial? His degree
in psychology failed him miserably.

"I want you to tell me about it, Mulder."  
 
Scully rested her head on his shoulder, and he relaxed into the
cushions of their Love Mobile, resuming the movement of his hand over
her spine.

"You want me to to tell you about..."  
 
"Yes," she interrupted him and pressed her lips to the side of his
neck. He felt her warm breath on his skin, her lips lingering just
below his ear, where she knew he was the most sensitive. She kissed
him there. Once. Twice. Three times. And he turned his face towards
hers, almost certain that she'd want to taste his mouth.

"The story, Mulder."

She said it quietly, pulling back, and it was a gesture he didn't want
to witness in her again. When had she ever pulled away from his kiss?
He didn't have to search his memory for long. He knew when, and now he
was supposed to go back there. He had to revisit the nightmare. Scully
leaned in again, this time burying her face in his sweater.

"Well, I had this idea of... ," he began, but was interrupted by a
huff over his heart.
 
He wasn't quite sure he had heard her right, but the tone of her voice
seemed to suggest that she wanted to challenge his account.

"Scully, Honey B, is this gonna be one of those
who-did-what-first-and-why squabbles?"

He pushed her away gently and saw her tentative smile. All he needed
was her smile to feel at peace. It had helped him during their time as
partners. Her acceptance of him had been his source of strength when
everyone else had thought him a lost cause. He was genuinely glad that
she was accepting banter. It had been a while since they had
challenged each other verbally. And, banter on the old couch in the
den usually meant sex on the old couch in the den, his love-starved
soul informed him hopefully. Crossing his fingers and toes he
continued "OK, Scully,  *we* had only just decided to really get him 
back," he said, adding a touch of fake indignation.

"The Van De Kamps..." he began, but at the mention of the name she
sagged into his embrace, a quiet whisper reaching him. 

"They weren't bad people..."  

What was she saying? Did she regret having hurt the Van De Kamps? Or
was his Mate trying to justify her actions? Either way, he was
unnerved by they way she shifted restlessly in his lap, as if she was
trying to squirm out of her skin.

"But they weren't his parents, Scully, we were," he spoke as steadily
as he could. Her voice shook as she croaked her reply into the fabric
of his sweater.

"We still are..."

What the hell was going on inside her, he thought. What happened to
that smile? What was with her? He needed to reconnect with her. It
burnt a hole in his heart not being able to see her eyes smile, to see
her as her usual serene self. He felt desperation seep into him. What
could he do? Use jest? He took a hold of her, wanting so badly to go
back to the good-natured repartee from a few moments ago. With forced
confidence and a wiggle of his waist he thought he'd achieve that. She
leaned back and looked at him, her eyebrow raised. Maybe there still
was hope, he thought.

"Yeah, and now, grandma, you're gonna fool around with a grandpa," he
breathed,  eyeing her up and down suggestively.

Suddenly she purred, her gaze matching the intensity of his.
"Well, I don't usually fool around with grandpas."  

He thought he had had fallen asleep and was having a beautiful dream.
Scully was looking at him with desire.

"But you'll fool around with this one," he went on, feeling more and
more secure in the belief that he was going to get his way, fingering
her hips for good measure, because she didn't seem all too
apprehensive about the idea.

"Is that right?" she slapped his fingers, and it stung wonderfully. 
They were going to be okay.

"Why do you knock it when you haven't even tried it?" , he huffed with
air and pomp, going all the way with the banter, fuelled by the
knowledge he would have her now, after so many weeks apart, she'd let
him in again.

They hadn't made love for almost four weeks, which was a record, and
he was experiencing withdrawal. Prolonged celibacy wasn't his style,
he had decided that when he and Scully had become involved. He needed
her all the time, wanted her every night. It had been pure torture to
see her suffer for weeks with the flu from hell. He wasn't used to
being without her touch, her soft and accommodating body, her tender
murmurs in the darkness of their bedroom, they way he sunk into her,
the way she clung to him.

Since their first night together, in Scully's apartment, they had
spent each possible moment together. He had needed to be with her
every waking hour. He had been so afraid that his days would run out,
due to his illness, and that each day was his last, that he had
insisted on it. He had needed to soak himself in her, so that he would
remember her, even in the far beyond.

When they had found each other, he and Scully had been at it like
rabbits, and once he was returned as good as new, he needed her with
as much, if not more vigor. Turning sixty a few years back had done
nothing to change the fact that he needed her constantly. And his body
hadn't yet failed him either. Viagra might come in handy some day, but
not yet. He firmly believed his plumbing had been kept alive by the
frequent use. No time to gather rust, he mused. It was exactly what
his own grandfather had used to say, although at the time he had never
realized that grandpa Mulder hadn't been talking about the plumbing in
his old summer cottage in Topeka.

Scully was now rubbing her lips together seductively, checking his
plumbing more eloquently than he ever could. He felt utter elation,
seeing the want in her eyes and feeling the movements of her little
fingers. He had almost forgotten the sound of her seductive alto and
the pressure of her palm on him.

"You think Snug Vixen will handle Big Fox?" he whispered and Scully
withdrew her hand.

"Perhaps," she whispered and looked away, as if searching for words.
He felt a lump in his throat Had he gone too far?  Or was this Scully
playing the tease?

He had always admired her detachment. God knows she had perfected it
for years, managing to ignore his magnificent innuendo the way she
had. Considering the fact that she had been in love with him for many
years, and still endured his blatant suggestive remarks, he had to
admire her.

He was overcome by a tremendous need to hug her close and nuzzle her
neck, maybe even give her a hickey for old times' sake. He tugged her
to him, breathing her in.

"Oh, my little vixen...prove it," he murmured to the side of her face.

He pushed at her and saw her smile a little. He nodded and gave her a
tentative kiss on the lips. To his surprise, she kissed him right
back, opening her mouth to him, seeking entry into his. The kiss was
soft and warm, a reverent promise of eternal love, and it reminded him
of that kiss all those years ago when she had handed little Wills to
him for the first time. A memory he would always treasure. Him holding
his son and kissing the love of his life was what had warmed him
during those lonely nights in the desert. Every time he had thought of
that moment, his companion, Gibson Praise, had quietly padded to the
other end of the trailer, leaving him to his thoughts, knowing he
needed to linger in the memory to be able to remain sane. That kiss
had lasted a couple of minutes at least, and he was determined that
this one be equally long, if not longer. He angled his head for better
entry. Scully groaned and pulled away.

"Mulder..."

He felt a lump form in his throat, seeing Scully's pained face,
hearing her next words.

"Tell me...about...William."

There was that other memory, the one Scully wanted voiced now. She
wanted his account of the events. She wanted his help, not his
unquenchable lust, he realized with self-deprication.

The memory of when toddler Wills was returned to them. When the little
guy found his way back to his mommy, after months away from her. A
beautiful memory, if only there wasn't so much pain woven into the
fabric of it. A memory, if it would help his Love out of her
moodiness, they had to recount, or there would be no more kisses, he
had a feeling.

His Love wasn't smiling, she was wincing.

"Scully?" he asked concerned, but she shook her head. 

"I'm fine." 

He cleared his throat. It was no use stalling. 

"We were lying there in that shabby motel room, I forget which
town..."
 
"Nowhere, New Mexico."  
 
He nodded at her and continued, determined to get this over with as
soon as possible. He wanted to see her smile genuinely, to see her
eyes shine with calm and peacefulness.

"Yes, Nowhere. We were lying there, having just made love, but you
hadn't..."

He wasn't sure about this. Not at all. This wasn't a pretty story, he
knew. He knew that she knew it, too. But the happy homecoming
justified the pain of the journey, didn't it? His Love gave him her
consent with two words, whispered barely audibly.

"Continue, sweetheart."  
 
She was urging him on with her forced smile. He buried his face in her
neck and he murmured into her skin, not really wanting to utter the
words he did.

"For the sixth time you couldn't orgasm..."  
 
Why was he doing this? Reminding Scully of this horrific time in their
lives? She was quiet, but her breathing far from even and measured and
he was clenching his teeth, looking for his next words, knowing it was
best to just continue without holding back.

"You couldn't find release, because you...missed our baby."  
 
He felt her sag into his embrace and they sat quietly for a while,
just holding on to each other, riding out the pain of this memory,
this nightmare in their past. He knew her tears were close, because he
felt it, too, the hurt, the pain of having been unable to help her. It
was a pain similar to the pain he had felt having been away from
Scully and Wills. It was torture he'd never want to revisit. The pain
he had felt when he had found out about Wills' adoption had almost
engulfed him. He had wanted to hit Skinner for being the bearer of
such horrific news. He had wanted to reproach Gibson for not having
told him. But the young man had only wanted to protect him. But his
most lonely and most miserable moment, he had blamed Scully for her
weakness and had chosen to fight The Fight instead of fighting for his
relationship with her. He had been completely lost then, almost eager
to be put to death, eager to simply leave her behind, to leave
everything behind.

"What are you thinking?"  

He started at her question. He thought for a second that she could
read his thoughts, that she could see the guilt within him.

"I'm sorry."

He barely heard his own words because of the pounding at his temples.
He closed his eyes and sighed. He heard her next words, and as they
were whispered in his ear, he knew no one knew his heart better than
Scully did. She could see right through him.

"For what, sweetheart? For wanting to keep up the Fight?"  

He had contemplated leaving her. He had been angry with her and
disappointed in her because of the decision she had made. In that cell
he had all but told her to finally just leave him. She had sent his
baby away to strangers without asking him. Without asking him!
 
But she had suffered too. During the time Wills was with the other
family Scully had suffered from depression and panic attacks.
Completely alone she had had to fight off her demons, and he
hadn't been there for her.

He opened his eyes and pushed at her gently, to look at her. He lifted
his hand to her hair and ran his fingers through the silky strands. In
New Mexico he had caressed her tear-streaked face in the same fashion,
only then she had barely recognized him. He didn't want to continue
this discussion. He didn't want to.

"Your hair is still so soft."  

The strands ran smoothly between his fingers, their silken buoyancy
balm to his dry and old fingers.

"We were lying there with each other," she began, and he closed his
eyes again. She wasn't letting go of the subject. She was patiently
waiting for him to fill in the blanks. He heard her sigh and he opened
his eyes and stopped the movement of his fingers in her hair, letting
his hand wander down the side of her neck and down her upper arm. Her
arms were so delicate still. He wanted to kiss her soft skin, but knew
that it had to wait. She was waiting for him to continue his
narrative.

"We were holding each other, but we were lying to ourselves, Scully,
pretending we were okay, that there was hope, that we would win the
Fight."

Why this memory? Seeing Scully's solemn face, he had to stop this, he
thought. Skip the part where they were utterly lost, forward to the
part where Scully picked her son up and took him from the strangers'
arms, the moment when Scully kissed Wills' forehead, held him close to
her heart and vowed to never let him down again. He had watched her
holding on to Wills, begging him over and over again to forgive her
for her desperate decision.

He saw her determination not to cry where she sat in his lap. He
didn't want to talk about that time. Why dredge up the past?

"I can't do this, Scully, this is too..."  

She pressed a finger to his lips then, looking at him with so much
love, that when she removed her finger he still could not speak.
"Just tell me the story, my Love, because I think we both need to hear
it. I need to hear it, so that I can continue. I need this, Mulder, I
need to know what you felt then, when I could do nothing but cry, when
I was so lost that I couldn't recognize your voice, that I wet my bed
and faked my orgasms. Tell me the story. I need to hear it from you. I
need for us to do this now...please."

Hearing her words, he realized that this went much deeper. Scully
needed to talk about the bad time, not just about the time when Wills
came home and recognized his old chew toys. This was unresolved pain,
and he had ignored the signs. For years he had refrained from
addressing them. He had seen her steal moments to sit in the porch
swing, her face in tears. He had seen that but had conveniently
trusted her inherent strength to pull her through. He had been a
coward, plain and simple. Compared to her he had always been that. A
goddamned coward.

They had miraculously been given the gift of a child when it had
seemed more hopeless than anything, and they had been given love and a
bond that could never be severed. He loved Scully more than anything,
and now they had been given a grandchild, a sweet little baby girl,
who would forever be a part of their lives. This was a true story
about how these gifts had been made possible, a trip down the lane
where the most important memories lay. This could well prove to be the
most important discussion they would ever have. He could not stop now.
He felt their future depended on this moment.

He looked around the den, buying time. Mementos of their life together
adorned the walls and the surfaces of tables. Pictures of baby Wills
seemed to fill every frame, except for the big space above the TV set.
Many years ago they had bought an 'I want to believe' poster, a
reminder of why they were together, but these things were just that,
things. Their memories lay elsewhere, in their hearts, in that house
not too far from theirs, across the state line.

"Do you ever miss the office, Scully?" he found himself asking,
wanting to get momentary reprieve from the angst.

She looked at the poster and then turned to face him.  

"I miss working together, yes, I miss the time when things were clear
and to the point."

He raised an eyebrow, and thought he saw her lips curve up.  

"They never were that, Scully," he mused, thinking back to the
hundreds of cases they had investigated, which were all far from clear
and to the point. And then there were the abductions, Samantha's
disappearance and Scully's cancer, but those had been almost carefree
compared to the pain of losing their boy. It had weakened Scully,
almost beyond recognition, and it had torn at his soul, more than he
had been able to admit to anyone, not even to his Mate.

"There was a time when I believed that the world could be explained
rationally..." she went on, almost dreamily. He brushed his fingers
over her shirt-clad breasts ever so softly, lowering his voice to a
mere, hoarse whisper, needing to recollect the innuendo and banter of
the time when they were still partners.

"But then I pulled you under, with my amazing charm and incredibly
witty humor....I pulled you under to the weird world of the
...paranormal."

Mulder even chuckled at his own dramatics, delivering the last word as
if it was the directions to the Holy Grail itself. Why had they never
investigated the Holy Grail? Could have helped them out a lot, he
mused. She huffed at him and tried her best to hide yet another smile.
Oh, yeah, he could still cheer her up, his heart was thankful.

"You're so full of it, Mulder, you had nothing to do with my starting
to believe the strange and....paranormal."

"Wha..."  

He was slightly taken aback by her sudden confident demeanour. She had
quite successfully managed to bring back the Scully of thirty years
past. The young agent who stepped into his office, blatantly ignoring
his charm, wit, magnificent pompousness with a few select words and a
raise of her not-so-plucked eyebrow.

"I used my own very well-developed ability to deduce. Your...tirades
had nothing to do with it whatsoever."

He watched her roll her eyes and flick her wrist in mock offense, and
he pulled her face towards his, determined to make her see.

"Not even my radiant smile and full lower Lover Lip, as you so
vehemently called it once I had had you in the sack five times, had
anything to do with convincing you?"

Very confident that this would make her cave, he waited for her
response.

"Are you trying to make me forget about the story, Mulder? Cause if
you are I will tell you right now that that radiant smile of yours is
gonna be lacking a few Pepsodent Teeth if you don't start narratin'"

The couch creaked underneath them at the movements of his angered
Mate. Mulder drew in his lip and braced himself for more, intent on
receiving anything she had to toss at him, but instead he felt her
ragged breathing feather his face in angry gusts. She winced and
touched her fingers to her temple, and he knew now was not the time
for banter. He gathered her close, feeling her heart pound furiously
in her chest.

"Nowhere, New Mexico," he began, and Scully buried her face in his
neck, her hand clutching the back of his Knicks sweater. Mulder could
never get used to the fact that Scully had chosen him to nestle up
against, that he was the fortunate man that she came to for comfort.
God, he was grateful. But now he was afraid, too, because she was
clinging to him, much like during that godawful time when she cried
herself to sleep, if she was lucky enough to sleep at all.

"I love you so much," he murmured, caressing the bumps of her shoulder
blades. He felt her squeeze him more strongly.

"I'm not forgetting about the story, Mulder, so don't even try."  

He smiled at her swift response and was grateful to feel her pulse had
grown steady again.

"O.K."  

He continued, although reluctant to dig into an old wound.  

"You decided to tell me, but you didn't have to, Scully, I already
knew you weren't enjoying us. I could sense it as we lay together in
those scruffy beds in those shabby motels. I knew the reason, too, but
I was afraid to go there. Too afraid to deal with the reality of
having...lost our baby."

He paused, closing his eyes to augment the feel of her warmth pressed
up against him. During that time in New Mexico he could so easily have
lost her. Not to the enemy, but to the enemy within her. To her
depression, her total lack of strength to continue.

He felt her tiny palms rub lazy circles on the space between his
shoulder blades. He mimicked the action on her back. She was so tiny
in his arms, and fragile.

"Mulder, I'm menopausal."  

The air left his lungs and his heart momentarily stopped, augmenting
the feel of her elevated pulse. Through the fabrics of her shirt and
his sweater, he could follow the thump of her heart, wild in her
chest.

He closed his eyes, letting her words sink in.  

His Love was menopausal. 

It was as if time was turning back. Her words transported him to the
time when she had told him the IVF hadn't worked, that there would be
no baby. He had held her then for an hour at least, if not longer. She
had sobbed into his neck where they had sat, hugging each other, their
hearts broken. He was never going to be a father. He was dying and
he'd never see his and Scully's child, because there would never be
one. God, he had wanted to tell her then, about the illness. That they
should treasure the time they had left, that they should finally show
each other how much they needed one another before it was entirely too
late, but he couldn't tell her that, not another piece of bad news.

God, he had lied to her more than once, hadn't he? Kept things from
her, in the name of protecting her from hurt? Her ova, his illness,
the Truth. Still, having observed her the last few weeks, her words of
the past few minutes made sense, and there were things that weighed
more heavily on her shoulders than his past lies.

He pulled her face close to his and pressed his cheek against hers.
For a full minute they just sat there, motionless except for Scully's
hand, roaming his back.

"Oh, My Love..."  

His voice was broken, he didn't know how to use it further, so he
didn't.

"That's why I am this emotional, Mulder," she began. He could hear the
familiar emotion, clogging her voice.

"It's hormones, and it's the concept of not being able to bear more
children, which has me thinking of the time when I gave our baby away.
All of our efforts to bring a child into this world and I gave him up.
I know it's irrational. I know I'm old and children haven't been an
issue for me for a long time, but what I'm feeling now, how my body is
reacting, it's a similar kind of hopelessness, the same kind of
despair, of doom. It's giving up, Mulder..."

He heard her words and wanted to erase that hopelessness from her,
caressing her back he tried, but how could he possibly achieve that
when he was overtaken by those same sentiments at her words? He
swallowed his emotion, determined to face the demon he had chosen not
to dare. He pushed at her shoulders gently and looked her straight in
the eye.

"Did you want more children, Scully?" 

She didn't answer, and he closed his eyes. He should have known. He
should have known this. Willing away his devastation, he pressed on.

"We talked about it and decided against it. Were you being honest with
me? Did you want more children?"

He was afraid of her answer. He was afraid to open his eyes and see
her regret. He couldn't believe he had dared to even give this
question voice. There was nothing he could do about it now. If Scully
told him that she had wanted another child, what could he do? Pray for
another miracle? He opened his eyes to find her somber gaze settled on
the emblem of his shirt. Her cancer going into remission, had it been
the result of prayers, or was it the chip? To this day, they didn't
know for sure. And what about Wills, had he been the miracle he had
told her not to give up on, or was it again alien intervention? Was he
going to have to pray for a third miracle? A third alien intervention?
Had they been wrong to chase the buggers away for good?

"I know it is all moot now, but there was a time I did want another
child, Mulder."

He gasped and felt his chest constrict. She touched his chest and
pressed her palm against the fast beat of his heart.

"Being pregnant by you was a heady feeling, Mulder. It made me feel so
close to you. I carried a part of you inside me, and it felt so right.
When you were gone I used to caress the swell of my tummy thinking
about how I would have you with me always, even though you might never
be returned to me. I used to wear your shirts, because maybe your baby
would learn the scent of his father. Your baby, growing inside me, was
my only consolation when I buried you...I would have loved to have you
there all through my pregnancy, to hold me, to feel the baby kick, to
make love to me gently so as not to hurt the baby...all those things.
So, yes, I might have thought about it..."

Her voice trailed off and gave way to silence.  

He was on the brink of tears and had to hug her close. 

"I promise you I'll never die on you again."  

He had to promise her something. He had to give her something to hold
on to, even though the last thing he'd want would be to see her die
before him. She thought about the scenario. Her soft chuckle warmed
him. He took it to his heart.

"So, there are regrets?" he asked, nestling his face into her neck,
deciding to go all the way, because now there was no turning back.

She was quiet. He knew she was thinking about her response, weighing
her words.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that I need to know that you will
never leave me..."

He had to draw back to see if she really meant what she said. How
could she believe that? How could she ever believe that he would ever
be able to leave her? It couldn't be that she was insecure?

"You're not any less of a woman, Scully, please, put that thought out
of your mind right now. I could never abandon you, and deep down you
know that...you have to know that..."

He hugged her again, more tightly this time, determined to make her
understand.

"Mulder..." she wailed, and he quickly loosened his hold of her. 

"Scully..., I'm s..." he began, shaken up by the pain he had heard in
her voice, feeling his chest constrict again. But she took a hold of
his hands and lifted them up to her lips and kissed his palms.

"I'm O.K., My Love, you can hold me, but you have to..." 

"...be gentler," he finished her sentence, reprimanding himself
silently for his thoughtlessness. He lowered his eyes, but raised them
to meet hers when she cleared her throat.

"You were telling me a story, My Love, please continue," she said,
leaning forward, nuzzling his neck.

He licked his lips, too afraid to hurt her again he just let his hand
rest loosely on her waist. He wanted to hold her as close as he could,
but it wasn't in the cards. They were getting older, and he should
have known this day would come. And now he had to go back in time, to
relive pain. He hated it, but if it could help her through the new
test of her faith, he would.

"You thought I could never forgive you for giving our baby away, and
I'll admit, it hurt so much to learn that our baby was with strangers,
but I couldn't forgive myself for having left the two of you. It was
torture knowing that you had been alone in your decision, that I
hadn't been there for you. It was all my fault, not yours. I could see
the pain so clearly in your eyes, and knowing I had put it there...I
just wanted to brush it away. I didn't want to face it, didn't want to
lose hope..."

He had to pause. How would he continue? He hated the way he had
behaved all those years ago. He hated the fact that he hadn't even
mentioned William's name for such a long time. For weeks he had
avoided the issue, the gaping hole between them. They had tried to
love each other, but had failed miserably. Scully had cried in the
bathroom afterwards, and not just on one occasion either. She had
thought it was all her doing, that she had to bear the pain alone. And
he had let her believe that. He had talked generally about hope of
rescuing the goddamned planet, cleverly avoiding the most important
thing of all: their child. How the fuck could he have been such a
goddamned idiot? How could he have risked their love like that?  How
had she put up with him all these years? How?

"I'm sorry, my Love, I'm so..." 

He couldn't continue. He sobbed into her neck. It was like the Flood,
washing him away for his sins. His cowardice had always been his
biggest crime. He had been too afraid to cry with her, to console her.
He had talked about fighting colonization, a nice, general topic of
hard facts, enemy, super soldiers, planning - no emotion.

"Mulder.." 

He heard her voice, felt her fingers in his hair, but he wanted to
cry, wanted to weep the way he finally had done in that bathroom at
that motel. He had knocked on the bathroom door and opened it to find
Scully clutching a picture against her heart, sobbing wretchedly.

"...when you finally came to me and cried with me..." 

"Scully, please forgive me..." he croaked, unable to say more,
letting his Love continue.

"...I knew I'd see my baby again...I knew that you missed him, too." 

He lifted his face to look at her. Through his tears he could see her
smile, a genuine smile. Had his tears comforted her? Were his tears
what she had needed? He'd cry an ocean for her.

"Tell me the good part, Mulder, tell me what you felt when we were
reunited with our child."

He took a deep breath and wiped his own tears with the sleeve of his
sweater. Aghast he gauged her reaction, but she didn't frown upon his
use of his garment. She just smiled and shook her head. He smiled back
and encircled her waist with his arms.

"Nowhere, Maryland, April Fools, 2003, we received a phone call from
our lawyer."

"Lawyer..." Scully snickered and let her forehead fall onto his
chest, humming into his sweater in contentment. He continued.

"Skinner, the bearer of the Bad News, also bore the Good News, Wills
was to be returned to his biological father."

"Thank God the courts ruled in your favor, Mulder."  

"I proved my paternity."  

"God, I was worried then."  

"You didn't think I was the father? Scully, I'm shocked, who did you
think was the father?"

She ignored his mock-reproach with a kiss to the skin right on his
pulse.

"If you hadn't contested the adoption..." Her voice trailed off, and
he nodded, kissing the lobe of her ear, wetting her temple with his
teary cheek.

"We wouldn't be sitting here together," he murmured. 

She drew back from him, and in an instant he regretted his words.  

"You believe that, Mulder?"  

Her voice was breathless, and he saw fear in her eyes. He had to
reassure her. Quickly. Oh, god there were mood swings involved here,
he thought. Scully was menopausal, he had to tread lightly.

"Scully, you know me, I see the enemy everywhere, I am a pessimist..."

"Yes, you are. You always think the worst," she whispered and touched
her fingers to his temple, catching an errant tear with her thumb.

"Skinner told us that we were safe to pick up our son the next day,
and as I put down the receiver and looked into your worried face I
knew..."

"What did you know?"  

She was looking at him, an eyebrow raised and her mouth ajar. He
licked his lip, wondering if what he was about to say was what she
wanted to hear.

"I knew that once I told you the good news, we would make love and
you'd find release."

"Oh," she said, looking at him funny. Had he fucked up entirely now,
he wondered.

"So... you just got word that we were gonna get our son back, and
you thought of sex?"

"What's wrong with sex?"  

He huffed at her, relieved that she hadn't reacted badly to his
straightforwardness, that his talking about sex hadn't unnerved her.
Her tone of voice had been jovial, just like it had always been when
innuendo had been flung. They had always talked about sex, even before
they got involved their office had been the arena of some serious sex
talk. And, although, he had initiated most of it, she had given too.

If that part of their lives was over now, it would hurt like hell, but
he would manage. If this, holding on to his Love and kissing her,
would be the only thing he'd get to do from now on, he would embrace
that because she was the most important thing in his life. Fuck sex,
who needed sex anyway? His loins gave a mild cry then and he
swallowed. He still needed her, in every way. It was time to test the
waters, to see if their love would overcome yet another obstacle. He
fingered her ribs.

"Mulder!" she squealed in what seemed like agitated delight,
squirming to get away from his tickling.

"Mulder! Stop!" she chuckled helplessly, and he loved this power over
her, and the fact that she responded in such merriment.

"Admit it, you love it when I tickle you!" he cried joyously.  

"No!" she managed, trying to tickle him back, failing miserably, his
long arms keeping her at bay.

"My little Vixen is scabby, gotta scratch that itch," he ventured and
attacked her kneecaps, his heart light as a feather.

"Mulder! I'm begging you...please, don't."  

He completely ignored her plea. The couch creaked and whined
underneath their struggling forms, like it had many times before.
Unfortunately they were interrupted by the shrill ringing of the
phone.

"Mulder, I need to answer that! What if it's my son?"  

"Sure. Fine Whatever. But gramps wants to fool around soon."  

"OK, gramps. Let me go."  

He released his prey and watched her retreat and wobble to the phone.
God, he loved her after-tickle wobble. He hadn't been witness to that
for a long time.

He shifted on the couch and watched his life's companion. Her curves
were still the best curves he'd seen on a sixty-year-old woman. Her
waist was still slender and her face...he could stare at her face for
an eternity and not grow tired of it. Her lips had fed a few thousand,
scratch that, million fantasies over the years, her eyes had
mesmerized him more times he could ever count, and they still did.

"Mulder!"  

He snapped out of his Scully Fantasy as she came to straddle him, her
toned thighs encircling his hips.

"Scully, when did you remove your skirt?" he managed before she
claimed his mouth in a lovers' kiss.

Her tongue was massaging his gums and soft palate, and she was
tickling his mouth, he realized. He chuckled helplessly and she
quickly pulled away, leaving him in acute need of another mouth
tickle.

"When you ogled my face."  


Wrong number. Saved by a stranger, she mused as she lifted her hands
to his chest and settled herself more comfortably over his thighs. The
man between her naked thighs was no stranger. He was not the enemy.
She could take them back to that moment twenty-three years ago. He
wouldn't hurt her or force her in any way, because he knew what she
was up against. When she had been weak, all those years ago, when they
had been on the run, he had showed her so much respect, even though he
failed to see it. He had given her the time and space. He hadn't
pressured her. They had tried to make love, but it had always been on
her terms. He had tried his best, loving her so gently. Her inability
to find release hadn't been his fault. The circumstances had been to
blame. Now, her body was going through the Change, and she was certain
he would not pressure her now either.

She ran her fingers through his hair. Age had rendered it silvery at
the temples, but he had been blessed by the hair fairy. No receding
hairline, no thinning. His hair was so soft. It had always been soft,
even when he got that hedgehog hair cut. Now his hair was a little
longer, more to hold on to, she mused as she leaned in and gave him a
quick, but open-mouthed kiss. She was determined to feel again, to put
her fears aside, to forget the changes wreaking havoc in her body, the
hot flashes, the heat intolerance, the chills, the headaches, the mood
swings from hell and the heart palpitations. All of those things that
chagrined her more than other women, because her ovaries had been
tampered with and her natural ova harvested.

Her hormone level had experienced dramatic decrease and although it
was normal at her age, she attributed the severity of the symptoms to
the chip in her neck. Her insides were practically shot to hell. Alien
technology gone bad, she thought, horrified. His mouth was so
yielding, however, and it would make her forget the changes in her
body.

She knew she could never have another child. It had been their mutual
decision not to have more children. It shouldn't bother her, but still
she thought about it. She pulled away from his warm mouth and looked
down into her lap. She knew that there was passion hooding his eyes,
and if she looked at him, she'd see it. Would it all be in vain? Would
Mulder reproach her hesitation. If she wanted to stop, would he find
satisfaction elsewhere? She felt guilt in having ended the kiss,
afraid to look at him, she leaned forward and rested her cheek on his
chest. Her Love sighed deeply and she hated the vehemence of it. He
needed her. It was as clear as day. They had a grandchild now. She had
a family that needed her. She had to be strong for them, but most
importantly, she had to be strong for her Mate.

"Scully, we don't have to..." 

No, she wouldn't back down now. She wouldn't make the same mistake
twice. She wouldn't let anything come between them again. She wouldn't
let go of Love. She had given it away once, and once was well enough.
With determination she pulled back from his chest and settled more
comfortably over his thighs.

"I came to you like this." 

She inched closer to him, her lower abdomen pressing into his. 

"You had been so gentle. Not pushing me."  

She let her hands trail down his sides to the hem of his sweatshirt,
resting her fingers on the waistband of his jeans. She pressed her
palms onto his sides. She loved his hips, so lean yet muscular. He had
kept in shape. He was still a very potent lover, she could feel him
already, eager to be let loose, but would he notice her apprehension?
She willed away insecurity, it had no place in the moment.

"Scully? Are you sure about this?" Mulder asked, seemingly able to
see straight through her. She could not lie and pretend she wasn't
wary about intimacy, but she loved him more than anything, and he was
there, so close. His fingers afraid to scare her away, resting lightly
on her thighs. She loved the feel of his calloused hands on her bare
skin.

"Mulder, please, none of that now. Let's tell each other the story."  

"We were going to get him back," he whispered in response, and she
nodded and snaked her hands inside his sweatshirt, feeling his warm
skin underneath her palms. He mimicked his actions from long ago and
massaged her naked thighs gently. She was glad he shared her resolve.

"Yes, and I was going to love you the way you deserved to be loved",
she breathed into his ear, simulating her actions from long ago as she
tugged his shirt upward.

"Gramps is gonna get some, eh?" he breathed, lifting his arms to
allow her to pull off his sweater. Once he emerged from the confines
of the garment, she leaned in and nibbled at his earlobe, massaging
his now bare chest with her fingers, and he returned his hands to her
thighs.

"Oh yeah." 

He moaned as she licked the shell of his ear. Yes. She could forget
her irritability, her fatigue, and her problems concentrating. If she
could make him moan, all would be well.

"We had just got word that William,...our son, would be returned to us
and I needed to reconnect with you, Mulder. Needed to feel your want
and needed to make sure our love would be intact when our baby came
home."

He stilled his hands on her thighs and withdrew them. At the loss of
contact, she pulled back to look at him.

"Mulder? Did I say something wrong?" she asked breathless, feeling
droplets of sweat forming in the space between her breasts.

"You doubted my love for you?"  

She barely heard his question. He was looking at her, a desolate
sadness in his eyes, and she regretted her words.

"Mulder, our lives up till that point had been somewhat..."  

He didn't complete her sentence, like she had expected him to. He just
sat there, looking at her forlorn, lost like a little puppy, on the
brink of tears. She gently pressed her palms over his heart and locked
eyes with the love of her life.

"There wasn't a day I didn't believe in our love, Mulder."  

"But there were days when it was hard to...show your love..."  

She closed her eyes and nodded at his hoarse whisper, momentarily
unable to speak, glad that he spoke next.

"Yes. Scully, we had fought so hard, lost so much, and we kept losing
more and more all the time. Our friends, our lives hung in the
balance..."

Keeping her eyes closed, she listened to her Love as he listed their
past tribulations. In her darkest moments she had wanted to erase the
years of knowing him, pondered whether she wouldn't have been happier
if she had never met him. Those years had taken her sister, her
health, her baby boy, and for a brief moment, her will to live. They
had almost killed her and they had killed Mulder. Her Love had been
dead. She opened her eyes to look at him.

She looked deep into his eyes and knew that that decade had brought
her so much. It had brought her a new way of perceiving the world,
challenges that no man had ever faced and it had brought her eternal
love. Now, having known and loved him for over thrirty years, she knew
with perfect certainty that Mulder's love for her would never die. As
painful as those years had been, they had enabled this very moment.
She was here, in Mulder's familiar lap. She was safe and she was
loved. William and Lynn were at their house, a house which Mulder had
given to them, because he believed a family needed a house, just like
he had stated when William had been returned. They had bought this
house, under aliases. It was nothing fancy, but it had become a house
filled with love and respect.

"What?" he asked. She had been silent for a while, she realized,
gazing at him, drinking him in. It was time. If felt like they had
waited forever. She had missed him too, and now she would tell him
that. Mouth to mouth resuscitation was what they needed, the doctor in
her mused. Figuratively speaking, of course. But as she leaned forward
and kissed his lips, it did feel like a kiss of life. She wanted to
live again, wanted to feel alive.

"I want to show you my love, sweetheart," she whispered, and their
tongues met. His mouth was like a haven to her, and she had gone dry
for a miserably long time. She ground herself over him, because she
felt like it. She could feel again. Mulder lifted his hips to meet her
grinding, Soon the exertions got the better of her, however, and she
pulled away from his mouth, her lungs crying out for air and her
heart, the muscle, needing a break.

"Wow, Scully, for a woman going through the Change, or whatever it's
called...you sure do know how to kiss," Mulder mustered as he leaned
back into the cushions, his breathing ragged as well. She loved the
fact that she could still make him gasp for air. Her womanhood was
slowly fading, but her love grew stronger every day.

She would not tell him the whole truth now. Eventually she would tell
him that she might never orgasm again. She would inform him that she
was hormonally deficient and that she might never be rid of the
symptoms of menopause. Now, though, she would love him, because she
knew he needed her to. It was so clear to her when she looked into his
eyes and saw the longing firmly lodged there. He needed to reconnect
with her, needed their usual witty repartee.

"Just because I'm menopausal, Mulder, doesn't mean that I can't
kiss...or make love."

"Well, thank heavens for that. So, let's get busy!"  

They chuckled out loud together. She loved his laughter, loved the
fact that she had lured it from him. They needed the laughter, they
had so much to be happy for, and her thoughts went to a little person
not that far away.

"We have a grandchild, Mulder, can you imagine?" she felt her tears
well up.

"Wills is a daddy, Scully."  

"Yeah..."  

"You think he'll be a good father?"  

She raised her eyebrow, and a tear escaped from the corner of her eye.
Was he totally oblivious?

"Mulder, he is your child, of course he will be a good father. There's
no doubt in my mind whatsoever."

"So, we will get through this, Wills and Lynn will raise little Katie
and the world won't end?"

"The world won't end," she stated softly and started unbuttoning her
shirt, continuing in a gentle voice "...and we will always have each
other..."

"...our present and future..." , he helped her with the last one,
their fingers moving in exactly the same way as they had on a lumpy
bed in a scruffy motel room in Maryland all those years ago, when they
had been given the green light to go and get their son the next day.

"We will always have our memories..." she whispered, feeling his
hands move up to cup her silk-covered breasts. She had to moan, his
thumbs rested atop her nipples. "..the good... and the bad," she
continued arching her back to press her breasts into Mulder's warm
palms more firmly.

"Well, actually menopausal grannies tend to have problems
remembering..."

"Mulder!" 

                   The End

A big hug to Nicole for finding the time in her busy schedule to do
awesome beta. Me loves you!

archivist's note - 

Chronologically these fics follow:
* A Fond Memory
* Another Fond Memory