Title: The Promise
Author: Jessica Zyvarek Taylor
Summary: Mulder sacrifices himself for his sister.
Feedback: ok, here's the deal. I love feedback. worship it really. 
And I'd love to get said feedback from you. yeah, you. jzyvarek@udel.edu

**

The Promise 

 Looking back on it, she realized that it had been his way of saying
good-bye.  Cryptic enough that she wouldn't try to stop him. But he would
have known that she'd figure it out.  And between the unexpected visit at
two in the morning and the serious expression he wore, she'd understood
about fifteen minutes after he'd pulled away.  Planning on never seeing
her again.  And he hadn't told her.  in some way, he had, but it was not
the sort of good-bye that she would have thought appropriate.  So maybe
for him, it was appropriate, but not for any other human.  Certainly not
humans with feelings. 

 He woken her from a sound sleep- her first in months- during one of the
few times she could remember things in the X-Files being quiet.  But it
had been a deceptive quiet, and after everything that she'd been through, 
it should have struck her as the calm before the storm.  But it hadn't. 
She was just glad to not be on an airplane traveling toward another
nameless horror and not getting called before Skinner to defend an action
that she'd had nothing to do with.  Knowing Mulder like she did, she
should have realized that he never relaxed.  And it was when he appeared
relaxed to everyone else, it was usually then that he was in the most
trouble.  Because there was no one looking out for him.  There was no one
to even realize that he'd gotten in over his head until it was too late to
stop him. And no one even had any idea what he'd gotten into or where to
start looking for him.  Although she was able to construct bits and pieces
of his actions that night, they were scattered and confusing enough for
her to realize that he hadn't wanted to be found.  At least not right
then.  He'd definitely intended to vanish and get a few days head start
before she'd even be able to convince anyone else that anything was wrong.
 And those few days may have been what cost his life.

 It should have occurred to her at 2:04 A.M. when her doorbell rang that
he was in deep trouble.  But it didn't.  The only thing that occurred to
her was that it was two in the morning and someone was ringing her
doorbell.  A phone call would have been bad enough at that hour, but this
was ridiculous.  And she would have told him, except that instead of
waiting in the hallway and listening to her lecture, he pushed his way in
and dead-bolted the door.  Immediately following that, he stared intently
out the window for a five minutes before relaxing, but only a little. 
She'd been silent while he did this, assuming that he had a valid excuse
and he would explain it to her.  He didn't.  When he turned away from the
window, he just stared blankly.  At her.  

It struck her then that he was trying to memorize everything about her- 
almost as if he'd never see her again.  And at any other time, she would have
 made him talk.  But right then, it only served to annoy her. She pulled her robe more tightly around her and turned away from him.  It felt like he was
 staring right through her. In the groggy state she was in, rapidly
 attempting, and failing, to wake herself up, she decided that if he was in
 any trouble that he would not be standing there in her living room staring at
 her.  Usually when people were in trouble, they moved around a little more
 and tended to be a bit more fidgety.  But not Mulder.  He was calm and
 practically frozen on the spot.  Until she turned away.  Then he remembered
 what he was doing.

 "Scully?" His voice sounded wrong.  The apartment was so quiet, they
could hear the clock ticking.  And he just didn't sound like himself. 

She knew from the voice that this was completely serious.  It
lacked the mocking lilt that usually distinguished Mulder's voice. She
turned back to look at him.  And when he looked away, she walked up to
him.  Once she was an arm's reach away, she stopped and waited for him to
continue. He could not meet her gaze and settled instead on fixing his
eyes on a crack in the molding just above the front door. "Mulder, what is
it?"

 "I need you to tell me something." Wait, that was wrong. "Actually, I
need to ask you a favor." He was starting to exhibit the characteristics
that normally she would have observed and pegged as upset, possibly
paranoid.  He had started to look around the room nervously.  And he was
shifting his weight between his feet.  It was if he'd suddenly become
hyperactive in the last few minutes.  His hands were shaking.  But
otherwise, he was not moving.  He remained less that two feet away from
her, even though he looked like he was about to jump out of his skin.

 "Mulder, what could possibly be so important that it couldn't wait until
the morning?" She was just having an off night, for some reason.  She knew
that it must have been damn important to get him there in the middle of
the night, but she couldn't help but be annoyed.  They weren't currently
working on a  case, so she couldn't come up with an immediate cause for
his actions.

 He looked down at his hands, which he'd begun to clench and unclench
repeatedly. "If anything, well, I mean if something.  If Samantha came
back and I couldn't take care of her, would you do it for me?"

 This time, she did realize something was up.  He'd never mentioned his
sister's name to her before.  He'd always said 'my sister,' but never used
her name.  She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder.  When he felt
her touch, he looked up sheepishly, like he was expecting her to get mad.

"Mulder? Why is this coming up now? In the middle of the night? Is
something going on?" 

 What almost looked like tears appeared in the corners of his eyes. And he
stared right back into her eyes. "Please, Dana, it's really important. 
Will you take care of her?"

 The expression on his face just about brought tears to her own eyes. 
Suddenly at a loss for words, she silently nodded, and bit her lip. 
Whatever was going on, he wasn't telling her. At least not yet.

 "Promise me, Dana."

 She was so confused and upset by what he was saying that his use of her
first name didn't even register.  It was all she could do to form words.

"I promise." The words came out as a choked whisper. At the time, she
wouldn't have been able to tell why she was so upset.  It was like part of
her knew.  Part of her understood what was going to happen and was trying
to tell her so that she could stop it.

 Then he walked towards the door, content with the answer he'd received. 
When he reached the door, something made him turn around to look at her
one more time.  The sight of her in tears, knowing that he had caused
them, hurt, but there was nothing he could do about it.  He walked back so
that he was standing not even six inches anyway from her.  Then he
tenderly reached out and wiped the tears from her eyes.  His hand rested
on her cheek for a brief moment.  Then he turned and strode purposefully
out the door, this time without looking back.

 She stood completely still for several minutes.  Completely and totally
not comprehending what had just occurred.  She'd couldn't understand why
his need to know someone else would look after his sister had become so
incredibly important in the last few hours. She tried to think, but
somehow, her mind had frozen.  She'd just promised to take care of his
sister if he couldn't do it.  And the only way that he wouldn't take care
of her would be if he were dead.  And it had become so important to him
right then because he had a reasonable idea that he would be dead. Or
gone.  Or somehow, something terrible would happen that would keep him
away from his sister.

 And by the time she got outside, the street was once again deserted.  The
last person who had driven up that street had no intention of ever coming
back.  And understanding slowly dawned on her as she stood in the middle
of the deserted street in her robe.  He was in trouble.  A lot of trouble.

 And she had no idea what that trouble was.  She had no idea how to get
him out of it.  She had no idea if she could get him out of it.  And that
part of her mind finally broke through and she understood completely.  He
was gone.  He was never coming back.  And she was never going to see him
again.

**

 He hadn't wanted to involve her.  He hated that he was keeping things
from her, but he really saw no other way.  Everything had begun to slow
down for some reason.  At least, that was how it looked.  But when was
anything the way it looked?  He hadn't intended to keep it from her.  But
when he realized exactly how much danger he was in, he knew that he
couldn't involve her.  There was nothing he wanted more than to have his
sister home and Dana safe.  But some how the two seemed to be mutually
exclusive. He wasn't even sure that he'd actually found anything.  And he
didn't want to hear her lecture him on getting his hopes up. He didn't
want to get his hopes up.  Unfortunately, he couldn't help it. The thought
of actually getting his sister back was practically unfathomable.  His
contact had given him very little to go on and he was running into
dead-ends every time he turned around.  But his entire adult life seemed
to be culminating around this one event. 

 And for once it seemed like it was within his grasp. He knew that this was 
the real thing and lives were definitely on the line.  He was almost positive that someone was holding Samantha and he was sure that he'd be able to get to her.  Or he'd die trying.

 He'd learned of a warehouse where possible abductees were being held and
he planned on going out there to see for himself.  But he'd also
discovered a tail that had been following him for quite a while.  That he
was being followed merely served to assure him of the information he'd
received.  And he had every intention of showing up and raining on their
parade.  He knew that they- he'd yet to figure out exactly what
organization 'they' worked for- might be willing to trade information
about her whereabouts for certain documents that he didn't actually have
yet. But he was doing everything he possibly could to get that
information.  It was when his contact had asked him a certain question
that he realized exactly how serious this was.  It would appear that this
time, he'd actually found her. Or at least something that closely
resembled her.  It was just a simple question.  One he knew the answer to
immediately, without even having to think.  But it was when he actually
thought about it that he understood the implications.

 Was he willing to die to get her back? Absolutely.  But if he did, what
was going to happen to her? Would she be able to function in society after
25 years of being kept somewhere hidden away?  If she needed someone to
care for her, and he'd traded his life, what would happen?  Then it hit
him.  He knew that there was only one person he'd ever trust to take care
of his sister.  And he didn't know it she was willing to make that
commitment.  But he had to ask.  He would definitely trade his life for
Samantha, the same as he would for Scully, but unlike Scully, Samantha
would most likely need assistance adjusting to a new life.

 He'd been sitting in his car in the parking garage in the FBI building
since he'd left work three hours earlier.  He knew that by asking Scully,
he'd be drawing attention to his plans.  Attention that would probably
result in her demanding to come along and be apart of his attempt to get
his sister back.  He was willing to trade his own life.  But he was not
willing to trade Scully's life.  It wasn't his life to trade and he wasn't
about to allow her misplaced loyalties in him to guide her to a
detrimental life-altering mistake. And then there was the part of him that
was afraid that she wouldn't make that decision.  That part feared that
she would refuse to help him.  He didn't want her life on the line for
him, but somehow, he wanted to know that she was willing to do that.  He
wanted to feel that unwavering faith that he had somehow earned from her. 
He didn't deserve it and he felt guilty that she trusted him so much, but
it made him happy at the same time.  To know that there was a possibility
that she cared about him as much as he cared for her.  He hoped that she
would understand , whatever happened, that he wasn't cutting her out of
this because he didn't trust her.  He cut her out because he didn't want
to put her through the agony of making the decision that he was making. 

 He finally started the car and began his loop through the city.  He was
attempting to lose the tail, but he seriously doubted the effectiveness of
his attempts.  If whoever was following him hadn't fallen asleep during
the three hour stretches he spent spacing out in his car, then he most
likely would be able to follow him safely through a series of convoluted
turns. He took a detour to three different grocery stores, hoping his tail
would start to think that he was just a fanatical shopper, and then he
started the ATM route.  After two hours, his car was beginning to resemble
a ticker-tape parade.  In the end, he'd visited at least 27 different ATMs
and withdrawn and deposited a total of about $4000.  He only had about
$300 in cash on him and he knew credit cards were out.  But in some
twisted way, this chase had become quite amusing to him.  If nothing else,
he'd gotten to make quite a lot of work for the bank tellers in the
morning.  So after a grand total of four more hours in the car, he'd given
up and decided that he had to talk to Scully. He was starting to get
excited too.  He could feel the adrenaline pumping.  He knew this was
really it.  He was going to get to see his sister finally. He was
completely sure of it.  Only one thing stood in his way.  And it was the
most painful of all.

 He'd lied to her before.  But in the past, he'd always had every
intention of coming back before she'd even noticed that he was gone.  This
time he knew that he would probably never see her again and that made this
so much more difficult.  It would almost be easier to leave now and know
he'd never see her again than it would be to go in and look at her and
know it was the last time.  His mind would never let him forget even a
single detail, but it didn't stop him from wanting to stare at her and
drink in the sight of her. Even knowing it was the last time,  he had to
see her.  At least give her the chance to understand that this was the
end. Having decided to make this last and most agonizing stop, he aimed
the car in a direction, instead of just going wherever the road took him. 

 It didn't occur to him about the absurdity of the hour until after she
answered the door.  Seeing her there in her robe looking completely and
totally disheveled prompted him to look at the clock on her mantle. Just
after two.  Ok, so this would definitely tip her off that something was
wrong. But he didn't really have the time to think about how inconsiderate
this was.  When he vanished of the face of the earth, then was the
appropriate time to think about being rude.  But, right now at least,
decorum was the least important thing he could think of.  He tried not to
look at her, knowing that he'd only be able to stare at her if he gave in,
but he couldn't help it.  She was his best friend.  And the only thing in
the world that mattered to him other than Samantha.  And he didn't think
she knew it.  It wasn't really something that came up in everyday
conversations.  It was something you saved for deathbeds and final
partings, when you knew that it was the last time that anything would pass
between you and you realized that it had to be important.  But even
knowing that this was visit marked his departure, he couldn't tell her. 
He wasn't the type to pour out his heart.  He knew that deep down inside,
somewhere, she had to understand what her friendship and support had meant
to him over their years together.  And he knew that she'd forgive him for
not telling her once she realized that he'd done it to protect her.  At
the very least, he could almost convince himself of that.

 And so he asked her, and listened to her response.  How could he ever
have doubted her? He should have known that she'd be willing to take care
of his sister.  Of course she would. Even he knew that after everything
they'd gone through together, his quest had become almost as important to
her.  She could never get her sister back, but there was a chance that he
could have Samantha back. And if she was willing to fight all these
battles with him, of course she was willing to help him.

 And talking to her, knowing that this was the last time, was every bit as
emotionally draining as he thought.  He felt tears begin to fall on his
own face, and then he noticed hers.  So, he knew that she understood how
important this was. And she seemed to understand that this was a turning
point in their relationship.  But he was relatively sure that she didn't
know that this was the turning point where it stopped.  He had to leave. 
He knew that staying there one more minute might make him spill everything
and then she would be drawn into this.  He didn't want her involved.  He
didn't even care whether or not she wanted his protection, she was getting
it anyway.  He turned to leave, but something made him turn back.  He
suddenly had an irresistible urge.  To cross the line that he'd never
dared to even approach for quite a while. He had to touch her. It was as
close as he could come to saying good-bye. 

 And as he lightly caressed her cheek, he felt her tremble.  It was at
that moment that he wanted desperately to have told her.  He wanted her to
try to stop him. He wanted to have her convince him not to do this.  He
would have listened to her, if only she'd known.  He stood there for just
a second, reveling in the contact that he'd never had before and would
never have again.  The look in her eyes reflected at that moment pure love
and trust and understanding and friendship and all the things he'd never
thought himself lucky enough to have.  He knew that she would understand
why he'd done this, she might not like it much, but she would understand. 
And she'd do the same thing if it meant keeping him safe.  It was with
that realization and acceptance that he walked out the door to face
whatever demons were awaiting him.

**

The next few days passed in a haze. Nothing seemed like it was happening
to her. It was like she was watching a horror movie- she could see all the
horrible things happening, but there was nothing she could do about it. 
It took her four days to convince Skinner that Mulder was gone, and not
just investigating something on his own like he usually did.  But he did
eventually start to believe her.  It was when he recognized the look on
her face.  The same one he'd seen on Mulder's face when she'd disappeared.
 
Completely unsure of what to do or where to go, but not willing to back
away from the situation to let someone else handle it.  He could see the
terror in her eyes at the thought of never seeing him again and
reluctantly assigned a missing persons case number to the file.  Since it
wasn't an X-File, Scully couldn't be assigned to the case.  And when she
personally petitioned to have the case assigned to her, it was denied by
the same board who had previously suspended her.  And when she'd
privately, as privately as you could get in an office that probably had
more bugs than an ant farm, begged Skinner for the case, he refused,
citing her personal  attachment and heavily implying outside pressure. 

 The fact that he would deny her this simple request really cut her. 
Skinner was on their side. As long as it suited him. But instead of
letting her investigate her partner's disappearance, the one most likely
to be able to figure out what he'd gotten himself into this time, he
allowed his loyalty to be ruled by the shadows which she doubted he'd even
met himself.  She was sitting numbly at her desk, completely unfocused on
anything.  She'd refused to take the personal days offered to her but she
didn't have any reason to be working.  She didn't have the heart to pull
out a file and start working.  And even if she had wanted to, she wouldn't
even know where to start.  It was usually one of Mulder's theories that
got them involved in cases.  If not, it was an anonymous tip that Mulder'd
gotten.  Either way, Mulder initiated almost every case they'd ever worked
on together.  And without him, she couldn't start a new one.  She'd looked
through all the new files she could find and pawed through the contents of
his drawers hoping to find something, anything that would point to his
destination after he'd left her house.  But it wasn't there.  Whatever
he'd gotten, he'd either destroyed or taken it with him so that no one
would be able to follow him.  Not even her.

 It took her two more days of sitting in their office, doing absolutely
nothing short of moving things around on her desk, for her to accept that
she needed time off.  She was obviously not dealing with this at all, a
much more pleasant alternative to admitting that he was gone, he didn't
want to be found, and there was nothing she could do about it. So, she
solemnly collected her coat and purse and left the office.  For once she
didn't bother to lock the door.  He wouldn't be there in the morning to
get mad at her for forgetting. 

 After taking a week off, she was still no closer to finding him.  And
neither were any of the  other agents who were officially assigned to the
case.  It was at that point that she reluctantly decided to withdraw
herself.  After having dealt with them, unofficially for two weeks, she
knew that they were all capable agents and if he was going to be found it
was going to be by one of them.  It took her another week to accept that
he probably didn't want to be found.  He'd made an attempt to say good-bye
to her.  She understood that now.  She didn't understand why he couldn't
just tell her what was going on, but she wasn't going to hold it against
him anymore. There was no point. No matter how angry she got at him, it
wasn't going to get him back.  She'd begun to doubt that anything would
get him back.  Once she could convince herself totally of that, then she
could get on with her life.

 It was hard.  Leaving such a large chapter of your life unfinished with
no kind of closure on it whatsoever is like having a huge, festering wound
in your soul.  Very difficult to get past.  But not entirely impossible.
Not as long as she put her mind to getting past it and then refused to
look back. The first thing she had to do was leave the bureau.  There was
no getting away from memories of him if she had to look at his desk and
all of his things everyday.  Even moving to another position, she would be
preceded by the reputation that they'd earned in the previous years.  And
she soon realized that the reasons she had the joined the FBI and the
reasons she'd stayed in it for the last four years were completely
different.  She no longer felt like she could make  a difference, at least
not there.  Her attention began to turn towards medicine once again.  She
hadn't spent all those years studying and working her ass off to end up
playing medical school and cutting up dead bodies forever.  But real,
living people, those were the people that mattered to her now.  She'd
stopped trying to reveal the mysteries surrounding why the person was
dead.  It didn't matter why they were dead- they were dead.  End of story.

 The people who were still alive and could still be helped- those were the
people she wanted to work on.  And eventually, about six weeks after he'd
walked out of her door, and out of her life, she found herself leaning on
a filing cabinet signing a resignation that oddly looked like her own. And
suddenly, she was taking a final look around the office and closing the
door.  She'd removed her personal things, but had left his untouched.  No
body had ever been found.  There was no good reason to presume him dead. 
So his office was left.  No one else wanted it. The door was closed and
locked and presumably forgotten.  In another two months, the case was
officially stamped  unsolved and dropped off the list of priorities.  With
no one around to contest it, Skinner had no choice but to allow the agents
working the case to start working on new cases.

 Scully didn't know that no one was working on the case anymore.  She was
the next-of-kin to contact if they ever did get anywhere, so she knew that
if he, or his body, was ever found, she would hear about it.  But she knew
that the case would eventually be dropped if there was no new information.

 And she figured that it was just as well that everyone be allowed to move
on, like she had.   She was now working in the emergency room of a 
Maryland hospital.  It was as exciting as the FBI had been at first.  She
liked it.  She liked when she was able to save someone's life, instead of
just deciding what had ended it.   She'd decided to move out of her
apartment so that she could be closer to her new job.    And however much
she loved her new job, moving was about the hardest thing she'd ever had
to do.  Even after all the boxes were packed into the truck and the entire
place was empty, she could still see the living room exactly how it had
been that night. Right down to the color of the shirt he was wearing when
he stood silently, tearfully in her doorway right before he'd left.  Tears
threatened to fall, but she remembered the promise she'd made to herself. 
She was not going to let this destroy her and control the rest of her life
the way it had destroyed and controlled his. She turned around and locked
the door, not bothering to take one more look around.  There was no way
she would forget it.  Or him.  And standing in the middle of an empty
apartment was not going to change that.

 And so, in the space of three months, her life was entirely, irreversibly
altered.  It wasn't so bad, either. She had a job that she enjoyed, a nice
house, instead of just an apartment, and she had the beginnings of a
social life.  People she worked with had actually started to ask her to do
things with them.  She'd refused, of course, for the pure shock at being
asked.  People treated you so differently when they didn't think you were
an anti-social workaholic with no feelings.  But she wasn't yet ready to
make the jump quite that far into mainstream life.  She always politely
declined, hoping that they'd make future offers when she was ready.  She
had gone so long only having one friend, but having that friend there
constantly, she couldn't adjust immediately to not having it that way. 
And no matter how much she tried to not think about him, more than once,
she'd woken in the middle of the night and dialed his number because a
nightmare had frightened her.  And the answering machine always picked up.

 And she never left a message. What was the point.  And every morning, she
told herself that it had just been a dream, that she hadn't actually
called a man who'd been gone for three months.  And likely been dead the
whole time.

 Three months later, she had reason to celebrate.  She hadn't called the
number, which had been disconnected recently, in over a month.  She
stopped having the nightmares which demanded a soothing voice.  The
horrors she saw everyday weren't terrifying enough to keep her from ever
getting a decent night's sleep.  Sure they were matters of life and death,
but it wasn't her life or death, so it wasn't quite as bad. Also, she'd
just been made a supervisor.  Her mother had taken her to dinner that
night to celebrate before her shift started.


 For once, the night seemed to be quiet.  It was the middle of November. 
Cold, but not yet snowing.  People weren't traveling for the holidays yet.
 She was working the 11-7 shift and it was already 3:30.  The worst part
of the night was over and they'd yet to have a patient, except for one
little girl with a broken arm.  Hardly life threatening. She was sitting
down in the lounge with another doctor and two orderlies. All four of them
wear staring at the clock.  They heard the automatic doors slide open, and
an ambulance crew run in.  Then they sprang into motion.

 The patient was a little girl.  The EMTs had estimated that the girl was
around 5 or 6.  She was tiny- thin and short- with shoulder length brown
hair and blue eyes.   She was staring blankly at the ceiling, allowing the
doctors and nurses to poke and prod her in various places, without making
a sound.  Until they held a flashlight up to her eyes.  Then she began to
scream and cry hysterically.  She was terrified.  When she began to claw
at the people holding her down,  they started letting go. Only Dana was
left holding her down, but just as suddenly as she'd started screaming,
she stopped.  A nurse reappeared with a sedative, but Dana refused to
allow it.  She wanted to talk to the girl before they had a chance to
sedate her.  As long as the girl was quiet,  everyone went back to their
prior duties, leaving Dana and another doctor alone with the girl.  The
other doctor, Dr. Villanelli, began reading the information the EMTs had
left with him.

 "Says here that she ran in front of a pick-up truck and the guy didn't
stop in time.  Didn't hit her too hard though, doesn't seem to be too much
damage." Dr. Villanelli put down the chart and looked over at Dana.

 She shrugged. "We still should check for internal damage." Then she
glanced at the girl's amazingly peaceful face. "And we need to find out
who she is. "

 Dr. Villanelli picked up the chart again and looked it over.  "They don't
have anything here. The driver didn't know recognize her and he lives in
the area.  He would have known her if she's from around here. It's a
pretty small place."

 Dana shrugged again. "Get the police down here to fingerprint her and to
find out if there are any missing children in the area. But we should get
her x-rayed in the mean time. " She paused for a moment, while she gently
brushed the hair off the girl's forehead.  "I'd like to know why she ran
in front of a truck."

 Dr. Villanelli stopped on his way out of the room.   "Oh, I didn't think
that was too important.  It says she was running from some animal." Then
he continued out to order the x-rays.

 Intrigued, Dana picked up the chart herself and read it. The irony was
not lost on her when she realized that the girl had been running from a
fox.

She stood there smiling as the orderlies wheeled the girl off to x-ray. 
Then she made her way out to look for the police and see if she could find
out anything from them.  No one questioned that she practically took
charge of the investigation.  She had just slipped back into her old role
for a few minutes.

 When the girl was brought back into examination room, she was still not
talking.  One of the cops endeavored to get her to at least say her name,
but she would just turn her head and stare at something else.  She was
cooperative when they fingerprinted her.  But as soon as they had her
fingerprints and were sure that she wasn't going to volunteer any
information, the cops cleared out.  Luckily, the girl had no real physical
damage, just a few cuts and bruises.  More likely that they had come from
running through the woods at night by herself than from the truck.  Dana
doubted that the truck had actually struck the girl.  The driver had
probably stopped in time, but was too terrified to tell whether or not the
girl had really been hit.  Certainly if a girl that tiny was hit by a
truck, she'd be in a lot worse shape.  Since there weren't any other
patients right then, Dana stayed with the girl, who had turned her
attention on the fingerprint ink on her fingers. Shaking her head, Dana
realized that it was just like some people to not think of things like
that.  She got some paper towels to clean off the girl's hands, when
something occurred to her.  Instead, she picked up some paper and took it
to her.  When the girl stared blankly at the paper and then at Dana, she
took it as a good sign that she would eventually cooperate enough to give
out her name. Then they would be able to return the girl to her family.

 She realized sadly that missing children would probably always be a sore
spot with her as well.  Trusting that the girl was at least understanding
what she was saying, Dana began explaining that the paper was for finger
painting.  The girl's eyes lit up momentarily and then her entire face
fell.

 "What's wrong? Don't you like to paint?" Dana tried to catch her
attention, but she was once again staring intently at her hands.

 When the girl shrugged, Dana pulled an ink pad out of her pocket.  She'd
picked it up when she got the paper.  Slowly, she showed the girl how she
could put her fingers in the ink, and then started showing her the basics
of finger painting: dip finger in ink, paint. Not all that hard to
understand.  The girl watched, but made no move to join in. She made no
attempts to talk either.  The most Dana had gotten from the girl was a
shrug.  Maybe this wasn't going to work after all.  She got up from where
she'd taken a seat on the bed and absentmindedly wiped her hands on her
coat.  She didn't notice the huge smears of ink until she heard the girl's
laughter. The girl's giggles were contagious and Dana couldn't help but
laugh herself.  She took off the coat and gave it to her.

 'Would you like to try?" There was no way that she was wearing that coat
anymore.

 The girl bit her lip before nodding slowly, all the while looking around
to see if anyone else was in the room. Her movements were extremely slow
and measured as she rolled her fingers in the ink and started to smear the
ink on the coat.  Dana watched silently for a few minutes. Then she tried
again. "My name's Dana.  I'm a doctor and I'm here to help you o.k.?"

 Distracted from her masterpiece, the girl looked up and seemed to
carefully consider Dana's words before she nodded again, very slowly, and
only once.  Then she went back to work.  As far as Dana could see, she was
only making vague streaks, but she was working on it as if it were a major
work of art. "Do you have a name?"
 
This time, when the girl looked up, she looked as if she had just noticed
that Dana was there. She bit her lip and continued to stare at Dana.
Dana knew that she couldn't give up as long as she was making some kind of
progress.  "I told you my name. Will you tell me yours?"

 The girl contemplated her for another minute and then started rolling her
fingers around in the ink, making quite a mess over her gown, the sheets
and the coat. Her tiny hands were completely covered with ink when she
held them out in front of her. "Dana." Then she dropped her hands abruptly
into Dana's lap.  Right onto the khaki pants she was wearing.

 Slightly annoyed, but not deterred, she pressed on.  She'd gotten the
girl to speak.  "Yes, that's my name.  What's your name?" She lifted up
the girl's hands off her legs and dropped them onto the previously ruined
coat.   The girl giggled again. Then she looked back at Dana. "Dana." 

 Dana sighed and dropped her shoulders. At this rate, she would get very
tired of her own name very soon. "Yeah, that's me." She sighed dejectedly
and tried to remove some of the ink with a paper towel.  She only
succeeded in smearing it. She tossed the paper towel onto the floor. She
was tired. She wasn't getting anywhere, she'd have to buy a new coat and
pants and she wanted to get out of there before the girl could
inadvertently ruin anything else. 

 She was halfway across the room when the girl spoke again. "Dana." Dana
turned to look at her, but it seemed more like she was repeating the word
to herself than she was trying to get Dana's attention.  Dana was halfway
out the door when the girl raised her voice, loud enough so that Dana
would definitely hear it. 

 "Dana Scully."

 Dana froze for a moment.  How had the girl known her last name? No one
had addressed her by it in front of the girl. She decided it must have
been her name tag on her coat and that girl must have known how to read.
She continued out of the room, a little embarrassed by her reaction. 
She'd never been one to see ghosts around every corner.   That had been
someone else's job...

 Dana sat at the front desk for the rest of the shift, too tired and
stained to go anywhere else. On her way out, she bumped into Dr.
Villanelli. "Good night, morning, whatever, Matt." Her valiant attempt to
still be cheerful at the end of a very boring night was well received.
Dr. Villanelli smiled and repeated her farewell. She smiled back and walk
away from him towards her car.

 "Dana! I almost forgot. Here." He was holding something out to her. "I
found this on the floor in the lounge.  Looks like it just wore out.  Too
many times through the washer- that's what always happens to mine." He
handed her the name tag and smiled again before walking off to his own
car.  He didn't notice that she was immobile, staring at the name tag.  If
the name tag had been on the floor in the lounge, there was no way the
girl had seen it.  She hadn't been in the lounge since before the girl had
come in. She stood there, shaking, until a security guard showed up and
offered assistance.  Then she got in her car and drove home, once again
refusing to accept what she'd just seen with her very own eyes.

**

 She refused to think about it.  She was exhausted and chose instead to go
home and think about nothing before she fell asleep.  And for the first
time in months, her sleep was rocked with terrifying half-images and
horrifying half buried memories. She'd slept less than three hours when 
she finally gave up and turned on her lights.  It was now mid morning and
she was blanking on what to do.  There was nothing around to clean and
she'd done her laundry the day before.  She thought about calling her
mother, but her mother would know that something was wrong and would not
drop it until she knew exactly what it was. She looked around her bedroom,
hoping to find something to distract her.  Her eyes fell on a picture
frame, almost hidden behind the other ones lined up on her dresser.  A
forgotten picture of a forgotten time she had shared with a man she swore
she'd never forget.  She felt tears form in her eyes when she realized how
long it had been since she'd thought about him.  Not since he had crossed
her mind, but since she had really sat down and remembered what he looked
like and how his voice sounded.  Even looking at the picture, it didn't
seem real.  It seemed almost like the whole thing hadn't actually happened
to her.  Almost like it had been in a movie she'd seen a long time ago and
now didn't quite remember.

 Dana climbed out of bed and picked up the frame.  Dust had formed on the
top of it and the tears fell faster as guilt rocked through her.  Her
mother had told her how he'd reacted while she was gone.  And she'd simply
moved on, content that she would never see him again.  She knew that no
matter where he was, he would be cursing her name if he knew what she'd
done.  She ran her fingers over the top of the frame, trying to get rid of
the dust.  At least without dust, there would be no physical proof of how
long it had been since she'd picked it up.    She sat back down on her
bed, clutching the picture as if it were her life line.   His face stared
back at her, accusing her, mocking her.  Then his face blurred, as the
tears overflowed and ran down her face.  And she knew that it wouldn't
have mattered what she'd said or done.  He would never mock her or laugh
at her or accuse her of anything.  The last thing she thought of before
she fell asleep, with her arms wrapped around a dusty picture frame, was
how much she wished he was there to wipe the tears away.

 By the time she woke up that afternoon, the picture had slipped out of
her grasp and fallen on the floor.  She didn't give it another thought as
she pushed it even farther under the bed.  Now she knew that when the next
nightmare came to call on her, he would be within an arm's reach.  She
blindly went through the motions of getting ready for work, not allowing
herself to think about him.  Or what had happened. She tried to not think
about anything, but the harder she tried, the more things popped into her
head.  The little girl from the hospital even managed to work her way in. 
Even sleep had not helped her understand how the girl had known her name. 
She decided that one of the doctors or even one of the cops had mentioned
her name. But still, Dana actually found herself looking forward to going
to work that night and seeing the girl.  She really wanted to find the
girl's parents and know that she would be safe taken care of.  She wanted
to know that every child in the world was home safe and being taken care
of. A fleeting thought occurred to her reminding her that even if Samantha
were found, Dana would likely never find out about it. She picked up the
phone and dialed a number that she was surprised she still knew.


 Ten minutes later, she was swearing her eternal gratitude to Danny for
updating her address in Samamntha's file. And she was assured that
Samantha still had yet to be found. She didn't know whether to be happy or
hurt about that.  So she decided to not be anything about it and ignore it
all together.

 And after taking a shower and getting dressed and driving to work, she'd
completely forgotten about it and was thinking about other things.  Like
how she was going to drive home if the snow continued to come down like it
had on the way there.  And why she'd locked the de-icer in the trunk, even
though without it, she wouldn't be able to get the trunk open.

 And she didn't count on the FBI showing up to investigate the mysterious
appearance of a child who was never reported missing.  Apparently, the
fingerprinting that the police had done the night before had either been
wrong or had not come up with a match, so the FBI decided to try it again.

 And then, since no one other than Dana had been able to elicit a response
from the girl, they wanted to talk to Dana.  She recognized one of them,
but she wasn't sure of his name.  So she let him introduce himself and
explain what the FBI's purposes were in this case.  Then the other agent
asked for her name.  When she gave it to them, she watched them glance at
each other, sharing a look that she and Mulder had shared several times. 
The the-person-we're-talking-to-is-a-complete-and-utter-raving-lunatic
look.  Then the agents suddenly remembered lots of other things that they
should have been doing which were much more important. And Dana was once
again left alone to do her job.

 As interested as she was in the child, she stayed away from her for most
of the night.  She didn't really want to deal with the agents anymore than
she had to because she was afraid of what she might say to them. And she
was very very close to telling them exactly how much she hated them for
making Mulder's life, as well as her own, miserable. So she hid out in the
lounge and talked to coworkers, only having a chance to look in on the
girl twice.  And both times, the girl was sleeping peacefully. It was
another quiet night, so quiet that Dana almost fell asleep a few times.
And each time, she was jolted back awake by the thought that maybe she'd
made a huge mistake by leaving the FBI in the first place.  And then she
thought about what a huge mistake it would have been to stay there without
him.  And she truly didn't think that she could have handled that.  She
couldn't really handle thinking about it for much longer either. Bursting
out in tears in front of all the people she worked with on a regular basis
just didn't seem like a real good idea.  So she went to look in on the
girl.  Just one more time before her shift ended. She was sure that by the
next day, since there really was no medical reason to keep her there,  the
FBI and the police would have the poor thing shipped off to some child
welfare place and Dana would never have contact with her again.

 But fate would not have any of that predictability crap.  And when Dana
opened the door to take one final look at the girl, she found an empty
room and an open window.  Astonished that the girl would take such
measures when she'd appeared previously to have very little idea of where
she was in the first place, Dana went over to the window and looked out
into the snowstorm that threatened to engulf the city.  The nurse who came
around to see why it was so cold was the one who discovered Dana staring
blankly out the window.  And she was the nurse who had to explain what had
happened to Dana when she went tearing out of the hospital mumbling
something about leaving children alone.

 Luckily, the snow had not frozen over yet and Dana was able to get into
her car and get it started fairly easily. Then she set out on a completely
ridiculous mission to find the missing unidentified girl and get her out
of the storm.  She didn't understand why she hadn't just called the police
and had them look for her.  No doubt the police were a little better
prepared to find her than Dana, but they didn't care as much.  Dana had no
idea why she cared, had no idea when her attachment to this child had gone
beyond that of a doctor/patient relationship, but it had and now Dana was
way more concerned about this girl than she should have been.  And it took
driving through a raging snowstorm for her to realize that. And when her
car skidded off the road and she had to stand there in the snow for a half
an hour until someone else came along to help her haul her car out of the
ditch she had a good idea that she'd gone completely out of her mind.  But
nonetheless, she drove around for quite a while before deciding that there
was no hope of finding the girl if she couldn't even see out her
windshield.  When she got home, she stared at the flashing light on the
answering machine for ten minutes, knowing that it was probably the
administrator of the hospital trying to acertain her reasons for running
out of the hospital in the middle of her shift. Without even listening to
the message, she picked up the phone and dialed her boss.  And luckily,
her boss believed her when she lied and said that she'd seen someone hit
her car.

 Dana was still extremely concerned over the little girl. And as she
watched the news reports about the blizzard-like conditions outside, she
grew even more worried.  She knew that the girl wold never survive the
night in this weather, alone in th snow, but she didn't think there was
anything she could do about it.  She didn't know anyone with a truck and
she knew there was no way her car was moving out from under the eight
inches of snow that had fallen since she'd gotten home.  She turned off
the TV after listening to the tenth report about how the homeless were
being taken off the street and out of the cold since it was doubtful that
anyone could survive this cold.  She couldn't stand to think of that poor
child out alone in this.     And there was nothing she could do.  And she
felt that terrible helplessness that she had last felt when he had walked
out her door that night, never to return.

 Somehow, she found herself curled up on her bed, again possessively
holding the picture.  She looked at it, not quite sure what had brought
all of this pain back, silently caressing the side of his face.  They
looked so happy in that picture- even though that time had not been so
happy.  Her mother had taken the picture on Thanksgiving the year earlier.

 Melissa had just recently been killed and she was still feeling the pain
of having lost her father.  And Mulder's own father had been shot the same
time as Melissa. But there had still been something for them to hold onto.
 
He still had his faith in the possibilities and she still had her faith
in him. And they still had each other.  And they had the most important
thing.  They still had their combined strength.  And now all that was
gone.  And all she was left with was a faded picture and a wellspring of
memories.

 Thankfully, there were no nightmares this time.  It was a knock at the
door that woke her this time. She rolled over and decided who ever it was,
they could either come back later or they could just go away.  She
pondered how bad she would feel if she were to discover that it was
Publishers' Clearing House, and then remembered that she hadn't entered. 
So it obviously wasn't nearly important enough to get out of bed for.  The
knocking ceased just long enough for Dana to fall back asleep and be
thoroughly confused when it started again, thinking that she had answered
it the first time.  The knocking persisted.  And the longer she ignored
it, the more determined she was to not answer it.  And then it just
stopped.  Smiling into the blissful silence, Dana drifted back to sleep. 

 The next time she awoke it was morning and she'd forgotten completely
about the knocking.  She decided to make an attempt to dig out her car
while it was still light and before she would be pressed for time to get
to work.  She knew that she would already be in hot water at work- she
didn't need to be late getting there.  While she was digging through her
closet for an extra ice scraper, she began to desperately wish that she
had a job where she wouldn't have to work if the weather was this bad.

 But the point was rendered irrelevant when Dana opened the door.  Curled
up next to her door was a tiny bundle, barely recognizable as a child.

Dana was too scared to move for several minutes as she slowly took in what
was going on.  After this child had disappeared from the hospital in a
snowstorm, after Dana had driven around looking for her for hours, the
girl had shown up on Dana's porch and almost froze to death before Dana
finally found her.  Dana didn't understand how the girl had found her
house.  Or how she'd even lived through the night. Or what connection she
could possibly have to this girl.  But remembering his words about fate
and how things that happened were supposed to happen, Dana scooped the
girl up from the ground and carried her inside to warm up.
 
Dana spent the entire afternoon and evening feeding, caring for, and
staring at the girl.  The only words she'd heard from her was her own name
two days before.  She thought about taking her back to the hospital, but
she couldn't.  The girl had run away from the hospital for a reason and
for yet another unknown reason, Dana could not subject the girl to being
taken back to a place she so obviously detested.   Still, she had to do
something with the girl.  And she had to go to work. She knew the girl was
too young to be left alone, but there was no one who could take care of
her.  Everyone would want to know who's child it was.  And if they didn't,
they might at least want to know what the child's name was.  And come to
think about it, Dana wanted to know what the girl's name was too.

 The girl wasn't being particularly helpful when it came to explaining
herself.  In fact, the girl was saying nothing at all.  She wasn't trying
to be unhelpful, but she didn't know how not to be.  Nothing really made
much sense to her.  She didn't understand most of the questions that
people were asking her and she didn't remember the answers to the rest of
them. She didn't stare back at Dana because she knew that would bother
her. She stared around the room and waiting for something to come to her.
And eventually, something did.

 Her diminutive voice seemed to echo through the room. "I'm eight." Having
remembered that, she was too tired to think for a while.

 Dana looked at the girl in front of her.  The paramedics had estimated
her age to be around 5 or 6.  Dana had thought probably 5.  She couldn't
believe that the girl was eight.  She was so small.  And she was about to
voice this when she remembered that she herself had been tiny for her age.

 Everyone had always thought she was much younger.  And she couldn't see
why this child would have any reason to lie. Dana hadn't even asked her
how old she was. So she just accepted that  girl was eight and tried to
coax a name out of her. It took a full half hour until the girl managed to
attempt to speak again.  And even when she did, it seemed much more like a
question.

 "Ann?" The girl looked at Dana and shrugged.  The name sounded familiar,
but not necessarily like hers.  But then, she couldn't think of a name
that sounded like hers.

 Dana smiled.  Now the girl knew her name and how old she was.  She would
probably remember more and then she could go home.  "Ok, Ann, is there
anything else you remember?" Hopefully the girl could come up with an
address or even the name of her school.

 Ann shrugged again and thought hard. "I'm hungry." 

 Dana almost laughed.  That wasn't exactly what she'd been thinking of. 
"Well, I go to work soon, but I'm going to find someone who can watch you
and get you something to eat."  Dana picked up the phone and started
calling people.  The first three people she called couldn't get out in the
weather and the fourth had to work.  Sighing, she called her mother.  She
didn't especially want to drive to her mother's house, but she knew that
her mother would take good care of Ann until she got home. And knowing
that her mother had raised four kids, Dana knew her mother would at least
make Ann comfortable, if she couldn't wrestle more answers out of her. And
luckily, her mother was more than happy to have Ann stay with her for the
night.  She didn't even question who's child it was or why Dana had
suddenly earned charge of a child.  Her mother always seemed to understand
when not to ask questions.  And that was because she knew that her
children would explain everything to her as soon  as they could.   Dana
would explain everything to her.  Once Dana figured out just what the hell
was going on.

**

 That night when Dana got to work, she didn't mention anything about Ann. 
She listened with interest when the FBI explained that they hadn't been
able to identify the girl either and listed their reasons why the case
should be dropped since not only didn't they know who the girl was, but no
one had reported her missing either.  And then there was the small problem
being that no one even knew where she was anymore. Dan pretended to be
upset at their decision and no one questioned it anymore.  The FBI
disappeared and life pretty much went back to normal.  Because of the
weather, the emergency room was a lot busier than it had been the previous
two nights and Dana found herself thanking God that she had the next few
days off before returning to daytime hours.  For some reason, working at
night was much more exhausting than working during the day.

 By the morning, Dana had almost forgotten about Ann altogether.  Until
Margaret Scully came running through the door. Somehow, during the night,
Ann had snuck out of the house and was nowhere to be found.  And there was
no one that they could call because they weren't supposed to have girl in
the first place.  This time, Dana cold not go running out of the hospital
looking for Ann. She had to send her mother home to look around for Ann
some more while she impatiently awaited the end of her shift. Two hours
later, Dana attempted to casually walk out to her car when every nerve in
her body was screaming at her to run.  Two hours and fifteen minutes
later, the charge nurse politely explained to the man on the phone that
Dana Scully had gone home and she was not authorized to give out her home
number. Ten minutes after that, Dana was walking around her mother's
neighborhood in the howling wind looking for Ann and didn't even hear her
beeper go off.

 Another three hours had passed and Dana had absolutely no luck locating
Ann.  And with the weather turning threatening again, Dana solemnly headed
back to her mother's house.  She held out little hope this time of finding
Ann.  Or of Ann finding her.  The poor girl was probably hopelessly
confused.  And lost.  And cold.  And  a whole string of adjectives that
Dana hated having to connect with an 8 year old child.  Her mother had not
asked her any questions yet, but Dana was sure they were coming.  And
certainly if she brought up the subject and asked her mother what Ann had
said, she would be forced to answer her mother's questions first. 
Questions that she had no answers for.  Questions that she barely
understood herself. 

 She decided that she would avoid the inquiry as long as she could.  She
knew that her mother would have some serious concerns about Dana hiding a
child from the police and probably her parents too. Dana didn't bother to
check her beeper when she took off her coat and threw it on a chair.  The
second time the beeper went off, she was in the kitchen with her mother,
having a cup of coffee.  By the time she finally got around to checking
it, the caller had left four messages.  She didn't recognize the number,
but whoever it was appeared to want to reach her pretty badly.

 Hoping that it had something  to do with Ann, praying that she was safe,
Dana returned the call.  The  man who answered the phone was not a person
that Dana could recall ever speaking to.  But he was calling to inform her
that her daughter was sitting on his couch asking when Dana had moved. 
Dana felt her heart leap into her throat when she heard that Ann was
alive.   And  then she felt her heart drop to the floor when she realized
that Ann had somehow found her way to Dana's old apartment by herself not
even knowing where that apartment was.  But Dana didn't sit around trying
to understand it.  She had to get to Ann before the girl took off again. 
And even when she did get to her, Dana had no idea how she was going to
keep Ann from running off.

 Dana was as hysterical as any mother would be when she finally reached
her old apartment.  She felt uncomfortable knocking on a door that she had
always simply walked through for years.  But all those feelings were
forgotten when the door opened and the man led her to Ann.  Ann was crying
herself and seemed inconsolable.  Until she saw Dana.

 Dana barely kept her balance as the girl launched her self at Dana from
the couch.  Ann buried her face in Dana's neck and sobbed for several
minutes before finally allowing Dana to lower her to the floor.  The man
who now lived there motioned for them to sit down and told them they could
stay as long as they wanted.  Still holding onto to Dana fiercely, Ann
looked up and met Dana's eyes. Dana was so confused by everything that had
happened that she almost didn't catch it when Ann whispered something to
her.

 "I was afraid they'd taken you again."  And once again, Ann buried her
face in Dana's neck and began to cry.

 It took almost an hour before Dana had the strength to thank the man and
carry the now sleeping child to the car. For some reason, Dana just didn't
feel like driving to her own house and instead drove back to her mother's.

 And once again, Margaret did not ask any questions when she awoke the
next morning to find Dana and the strange child curled up asleep on the
couch with their arms wrapped protectively around each other.

 By the time Dana woke up, Margaret and Ann were in the kitchen having a
huge breakfast.  Ann had the biggest smile on her face that Dana had ever
seen on a living being.  And Margaret was smiling as well when she
explained to Dana what the secret was.  'Ann' was not actually her name. 
Ann was her mother's name.  And her own middle name.  But she'd managed to
remember her first name. Margaret and the girl looked at Dana and then at
each other. Just when Dana thought she'd explode from not knowing, the
girl spoke.

 "My name's Samantha, Mommy!"   And Dana was so upset to find out the
girl's name was Samantha Ann that she didn't even realize the girl had
called her mommy. Through the tears that had formed, Dana looked at her
mother, unsure of how much she'd told her mother. Margaret fairly beamed
back at her and nodded.

 "It's her, Dana."  Margaret stood up and began collecting the dishes and
putting them in the sink. Dana stood frozen in the doorway, unable to
accept everything.

 Even if it was the real Samantha, it didn't explain how she'd known
Dana's name, where her old apartment was, or about her abduction. Ann,
Samantha, whoever she was, simply had to be a fake.  But even as the
thought crossed her mind, Samantha gave her a crooked grin and a wink that
was undeniably Mulder .  Somehow, some way, he'd managed to trade places
with Samantha and send Samantha home to the person who had promised to
take care of her.  The only other person who loved Samantha as much as he
had.  And through the tears, Dana smiled, realizing that only Mulder would
go so far as to trade his life to hold someone to a promise.  To hold her
to a promise.  To hold her to the only promise that ever mattered to him.

The End

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ok, now most of you know me by now and you know how desperately I await
your comments. And I do reply to every one I get... and if you're a
lurker, I won't turn you in... just ask- whoops- I guess I can't mention
any names... they know who they are and so do i. please let me know what
you think of my stuff!!!! later,jessica ;-) (jzyvarek@udel.edu)

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