Title: The Way 4. Bending of the Bow
Authors:KMNAHILL and MD1016

Summary: Samantha returns and isn't what Mulder had expected.

Notes: This is the fourth (and final) story of this series. You should read "The Way," "Difficulties Under Heaven," and "The Gate of All Wonders" before you read this, as we refer back to all of them at one point or another.

Barbara, thanks for proof reading it.

Please don't E-Mail us with tons of praise and let us know that the last Five months of our lives weren't for nothing. We hate validation.

As it acts in the world, the Tao
is like the bending of a bow.
The top is bent downward;
the bottom is bent up.
It adjusts excess and deficiency
so that there is perfect balance. -Tao te Ching

Prologue

Immaculate Heart of Mary R.C.Church
September 1, 1996
6:11 PM

The hush of the church was marred by the scuffling of feet that moved slowly from the pews and the constant hiss of whispers. The noise was almost enough to push Margaret Scully over the edge. She glanced up at the stained glass windows, the sunlight making the colors all the more vivid, trying to find some solace, some answers to the questions troubling her peace. There were answers, she knew that with every fiber of her being, but just now they were out of reach. She sighed in frustration.

The air was heavy with the flagrance of an altar full of flowers and the mingling of too many odors emanating from the bodies pressing about her. She was feeling confused and more than a little disjointed but she was certain of one thing - if one more person she didn't know came up to her insisting on shaking her hand and saying, "I'm so sorry," in tones as false as the eyelashes she was wearing, she would scream. Of that, at least, she was sure.

She looked around the emptying church and noted the fluttering of tissues clutched in Ruth Mulder's hands as she wiped away the seemingly ceaseless tears. Margaret sighed again, this time in sympathy, understanding the woman's feelings, yet glad that Ruth's friends were taking her in hand. The head of the Scully clan had her own emotions to contend with. Though the past hour had helped her regain an outward semblance of her usual calm, the facade was only skin deep. Inside, Margaret railed against whatever had caused this, her fears and worries burned away in the furnace of maternal rage and her grief for her youngest daughter.

"Let's get out of here," rumbled the deep voice beside her.

She turned her gaze to the tall man supporting her elbow and gently pulling her to the door leading to the priest's office at the front of the church. "I really should stay and help the kids. They shouldn't be left to answer all these nosey questions."

"They'll be just fine and you've had enough to do. Michele?" He glanced to the dark haired woman standing behind him, interrupting her conversation with Margaret's oldest son, Bill, jr. "I'm taking Mrs. Scully to find someplace away from this mob. You'll be okay?" His eyes looked at her tenderly.

"I'll be fine," she responded with the same hint of tenderness in her voice. "I'll stay out here and lend what help I can. We'll find you when things quiet down."

Skinner nodded brusquely and guided Margaret away from the confusion with a sure touch. Before they could slip away, however, the shrill voice of Madeline McKinna, an old Scully neighbor halted them. Skinner felt rather than heard the long-suffering groan that escaped Margaret's lips and he noticed the definite tensing of her shoulders. So this is not going to be a friendly offer of support, he thought grimly and moved to hover protectively behind the older woman as she turned to face the neighborhood's worst gossip.

"Oh, Margaret! I'm so sorry. I couldn't believe my ears as I listened to Charles. Is it really true? What happened? Did you know anything was wrong before hand? No, of you didn't, you poor dear. Having to face all these people. How awful for you!" Madeline's words tumbled out of her mouth at a rate which made Skinner's head spin. He could only imagine what Scully's mother must be feeling. His expression became even more daunting than usual.

"I was just taking Mrs. Scully somewhere quiet. I'm sure you'll excuse us," Skinner cut in as Madeline stopped to take a breath. He hustled Margaret into the office and shut the door in the old biddy's face before she could protest.

"Really Walter, that was somewhat rude, don't you think?" Margaret asked at the same time drawing a deep breath of relief.

"You want me to let her in?" he asked, a gleam of mischief in his eye.

"Don't you dare!" laughed Margaret, wearily, sinking into the soft armchair which occupied the space next to the room's sole window. "I know I'll regret this later when word gets out but I don't think I can cope with Madeline just now." She rubbed a tired hand across her forehead, feeling a little heartsick.

"She's that bad?" asked Skinner, hoping to distract her.

She afforded him a sad, little smile. "We don't call her Rex Reed for nothing," Margaret quipped.

Skinner laughed then became serious. "You want to tell me what happened?"

"I don't know more than what the girls told me. I fully expected them to turn up here, maybe late, but here."

"I've put out the word to keep our eyes open for them but I can't really do more than that officially. As far as we know, they're fine."

"I know, Walter, I know. I'm sure they are fine. I would know if they weren't, I think." She reached out to pat his arm. "All I know is, it had to be something important. Something important enough for Dana to miss her own wedding."

"Why don't you start at the beginning and tell me again? Maybe I can fill in some of the gaps."

Margaret smiled at the man kneeling beside her. She appreciated more than she could say his strength and support but she had the feeling that whatever her daughter and soon-to-be son-in-law were up to, it would resolve itself in its own good time and not before.

She opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by the door being flung open by two young women, obviously in the midst of an on-going argument.

"I knew it! I knew wearing black to a wedding was bad luck. I don't know how the hell I let you talk me into this!" hissed the taller of the two, though both women were petite in stature.

"Shows what you know," retorted the other. "Black and white weddings are very chic. I guess that's a concept beyond you."

The first woman flung back her dark blond hair with a flourish. "And what's up with this damn thing?" she asked, pointing to the bow embellishing the form-fitting, sleeveless dresses. "This thing makes my ass look huge."

"Will you stop obsessing about your damn ass! I'm sick of hearing about it!"

"Excuse me," Skinner started to say before he was brushed aside by two.

"Mom, are you all right? The guests have all gone and the priest wants to close shop."

Margaret smiled wanly at her daughter-in-law's choice of words. "Jen, Caroline, I don't know if you remember Assistant Director Skinner, Dana's boss. Walter, this is Caroline and Jen, Bill's and Charlie's wives."

Skinner proffered his hand but it was ignored by the two women glaring at him.

"So what the hell was so important that you had to send them out of town? It couldn't wait until tomorrow?" Caroline asked, belligerently.

"I'm as much in the dark as you are about the whereabouts of Agents Mulder and Scully. Probably more so," Skinner said in his most intimidating voice. Few agents could hear that voice without a shudder but Caroline was unfazed.

"Yeah, sure!"

"I knew we should have had a rehearsal. This wouldn't have happened if you would have listened to me."

"How could we not listen to you? All you do is talk. And where's the best man? That's what I'd like to know. He should be here helping out."

"I don't know anything about him except that his name is Danny. I guess Mulder talked to him," Jen offered. "And what do you mean I talk a lot?

That is so not true!"

"That's enough, both of you. I was just about to tell Walter what you told me this morning. Maybe you both should fill him in since you're the last people to have seen Dana."

"Well, Shannon was there too," Jen interjected.

As if on cue, the door opened, revealing a tall, slender woman, her hair cut in a short bob. "I think someone better get out here and talk to the caterers. Bill has them on the phone and they want to take back the booze," she said is a soft Southern drawl. "What if Dana shows up? She'll be wanting a drink."

"Oh my God!" Jen exclaimed as she stalked out behind Shannon, Caroline close on their heels.

Skinner shook his head in bemusement at the sudden silence. He felt as if he'd just survived a whirlwind. And Mulder was going to join this family, he realized. Oh God! He returned his attention to Margaret. "Maybe you better just tell me."

The Tao is like a well; used but never used up.

It is like the eternal void;

filled with infinite possibilities.
-Tao Te Ching

September 1, 1996
Interstate 64, Heading West.

The setting sun acted like the stoked fire of a brick oven in their grey Taurus. Scully flipped on the air conditioning without a word and went back to the map spread out on her lap. Virginia, Pennsylvania, and most of the eastern sea board lay sprawled before her, the creases and wrinkles refusing to be ironed out with the flat of her hand. On the dashboard in front of her lay the note.

What are we doing? She shot a hand to anchor the rumpled paper as Mulder sped around a Lexis that refused to break the 70 mph speed limit.

The chicken-scrawled map and instructions that Moore had copied down for them holding her eye. It was the key: the holder of the answers that they had been looking for - *he* had been looking for his whole life. Or was it? Moore had said that he believed Samantha Mulder lived at the address he'd scribbled down. Or perhaps someone who would know where to find her. Or perhaps not. Scully chewed on the inside of cheek. It wasn't like Moore to be vague. Well, the little she knew of him, at least.

Was he working for *them*? Steering them wrong? No. She shook her head. She refused to believe they were off on some wild goose chase.

That they'd stood up their own wedding for nothing.

Scully glanced at the clock on the dashboard. 6:00 PM. By now the guests would have already gone home. They were probably ripping down the decorations. Caroline would be livid, of course. She was the one who designed the decorations, after all, spending all of those weeks bringing sprigs of flowers and cloth swatches for color and texture approval. God. Caroline had really gone over board. But then, Scully expected nothing less from her. A fleeting smile crossed her lips. She was going to be in serious trouble when she saw her sister-in-law again.

And her mother. Scully's head lolled forward at the thought of her mother's disappointed face. I can't believe, she repeated for the Nth time in her head, I'm not showing up for my own wedding. They hadn't even signed the marriage license, opting to do the honor in front of family and friends just before the ceremony. It wasn't like she was *worried* or anything. Mulder wasn't going anywhere. At least not with any other woman. There was no question in Scully's mind that he loved her.

Marriage wasn't a necessity, it just seem like the next logical step. It was just that ... it was supposed to be their wedding day. The day that all little girls dream about. And there they were, in a car, on the Interstate, weaving in and out of traffic, not even saying a word. Her stomach knotted a little more.

Scully looked at her partner. His jaw was set and his expression fixed. He wasn't with her any more. He was driving on auto pilot, lost in his head, figuring possible scenarios, remembering long buried visions of his sister.

Samantha.

If it had been anything else in the world, it could have waited until the day after their wedding. Or at least later that night. But Sam came first. She'd always been painfully aware of that. And it wasn't as if she resented it.

Not really. But she did fear it. Because what if this promised lead turned up nothing. Or another hoax, like the clone. Would she always play second fiddle to a dream? Scully pulled the note in to her lap and reread the beginning. "This is a treasure map of sorts. It leads to the person you've been looking for." Another shot of jealous shot through her, and guilt forced her to acknowledge it. Scully'd always hoped that she would be able to fill all the gaps. That she'd be the only person he'd ever really need to look for. And that she'd always be right there in front of him, ready to be found.

God that's horrible, she yelled at herself. That's possessive and selfish.

After all, Sam was in his life long before she was. Sam was his *sister* for godsake. She wasn't in competition with her! But somehow, that's exactly how it felt to her. Like she was competing for his attention. Jesus. She couldn't keep the emotions still in her stomach. *...that's my belly now...*

Scully's Apartment September 1, 1996
1:55 AM.

The bachelorette party had been in full swing for over seven hours.

Clubs had been visited, exotic dancers had been ogled, the police had been by - twice -, and more alcohol had been drunk than Scully had ever seen before. Giggles had come and gone several times by the time Scully had settled on the sofa, her feet resting over the arm, her head in Jen's lap - trying to swim away.

"You know, Dana, it's not too late to back out of this wedding thing," Jen kept reminding her, screw driver in hand. "He's not good enough for you."

Caroline, lying prostrate before them on the ground pulled one of Scully's arms over the side of the couch and held it against her turbulent stomach. "Doc, it hurts right here."

"You drank too much." Scully murmured dryly. "So did I. I'm going to look like death in the morning."

"Why don't you want Dana to marry Fox?" Shannon called from the comfy chair. Her straight, narrow nose poked out of the blue blanket draped around her. "I like Fox ... he's got a cute belly."

"Hey!" Scully protested with a raised hand and attempt at a fist. "That's my belly now!"

Caroline laughed, "Awfully possessive, aren't we?"

September 1, 1996
Interstate 64, Heading West.

Scully poped back out of the daydream, as Mulder threw the car in to the right lane, narrowly missing a large hunk of rubber from an abandoned tire on the side of the road. She braced herself against the door handle and looked over to him again. Mulder had been silent since the moment the note was read aloud. Refusing to look at her after the decision was made to "postpone" the wedding. Refusing to acknowledge her once they began the drive to Kentucky. He's anxious, nervous, scared; she tried to reassure herself that his with drawl wasn't because he didn't want her there. He was closing down as a defense mechanism, she rationalized. But it left a knot in the deepest part of her stomach that kept her from downing the coffee she'd ordered that the last rest stop -- four hours before. With a sigh she settled back in the passenger seat and allowed the memory from the night before to replay in her head.

Jen tucked a handful of her straight, shiny, close-cropped hair behind one ear and sighed. "It's not that I don't want her to get married to him," she had said. "He's fine, I guess-"

"I'll say he's *fine*!" Shannon's southern drawl slipped out making the room giggle again.

"It's just that well," Jen cocked her head and considered how she could make her point before proceeding. "It's just that Dana is *here*," she raised her hand about two feet above Scully's head and drew out the imaginary plateau that she sat on. "And Fox-"

"Mulder," Scully corrected, her tongue having trouble getting all the way around the "er".

"*Fox* is only about *here*." Jen's arm dropped dramatically, hovering just above Scully's face.

"Oh, he's gotten closer than that!" Scully shrieked and sent the room in to another bout of giggles.

"Tell! Tell!!" Shannon begged.

"No!!" Cried Caroline, "Too much information!" Her red face twisted in to mock fear at the possibility of learning more than her delicate sensibilities could handle. An idea that led them all - even Jen into more laughing and giggling until their sides ached and their breaths gasped.

Then the knock on the door silenced them. And their sudden silence made them laugh even more. Shannon was the first one up, her slender, well-tanned legs finding it difficult to navigate through the discarded boxes and bottled and party debris. "Who's there?" She called through the door. "This party is for invited guests only."

The obviously male voice rumbled back. "Mulder."

Caroline sat up too suddenly at the name, "No!"

Jen leaped up from the couch dropping Scully's head hard in to the cushions, "No! You can't see her until the wedding!"

"Open the door," came back stern. He was not at all in the mood to be toyed with.

Scully recognized the tone in is voice even through the layers of fog in her head, and waded her way to the front door, fighting off Jen and Shannon along the way. She flipped the lock and stood face to face with Mulder ... and Doctor Moore. Her gasp of surprise carried too much oxygen to her brain, and she wobbled on her feet.

Mulder reached out and steadied her, feeling the need to state the obvious, "You're drunk, Scully."

"This is my bachelorette party, Mulder. I'm getting married tomorrow, remember?"

He looked over her face, seeing the smile slowly fade as she remembered Dr. Moore standing just behind him. Caroline still sat on the floor between the coffee table and the couch, Shannon stood just behind Jen; all three women resenting his intrusion.

"Scully, Moore has something for us." His straight face focused with an intensity that Scully hadn't seen in a long time. The seriousness in his eyes scared her. "It can't wait." Without ripping her eyes from his, Scully addressed her guests with breathless authority, "The party's over, guys."

Complaints came from all around, but the moment Dr. Moore crossed through the threshold and into the room, all protests ceased. The look of tension and a pensive frown

on an otherwise jovial face let them know that something important, if not critical, was about to happen. They placed a hand on Scully's shoulder one by one, and collected their purses.

Jen turned in the doorway, "We need to get started on your hair by noon tomorrow,"

"Right," Scully absentmindedly nodded, her attention still fixed on Mulder.

"We're meeting at the Chapel Dressing room, Dana. 11:45. Don't forget." Shannon shook her cropped hair when Scully failed to respond. "This is a bad omen, guys. A bad omen."

Success is as dangerous as failure.
Hope is as hollow as fear.
-Tao Te Ching

September 1, 1996
Interstate 64, Heading West.

The sun was blinding as it set just at the horizon they were traveling towards. Mulder squinted behind his sunglasses, and tried to ignore the sunspots that danced in front of him on the dark asphalt. They'd been traveling into direct glare for almost an hour, and it was becoming hard to distinguish the hovering balls of blue and pink from the brake lights of the cars traveling in front of them. But he couldn't stop now. They'd wasted too much time already. Scully had insisted that they stop at a rest stop a couple of hours back, but that wasn't what he'd meant by wasted time. He meant the quarter of a century that Samantha had been away. All the nights spent dreaming of finding her again; all of the days of trying to realize the dream.

Next to him was a flash of movement and he saw Scully's head loll forward from the corner of his eye. She must be exhausted, he thought.

She hadn't had any sleep for at least 36 hours, and she never really had a chance to recover from that hangover she was working on when he reached her apartment early that morning. But still he hadn't heard her complain once. Not about the headache she obviously had, not about leaving without telling anyone where they were going, not even about missing their wedding.

Mulder inhaled deeply to help the guilt go down just a little easier. It was his fault. They should have gotten married a year ago. Or six months ago. He'd kept putting it off; reasoning that she was too ill, or she wouldn't want him. But that wasn't the real reason he'd tried to avoid it. Marriage was a legally binding contract that said that he was giving himself to her completely. Even that small part of himself that he tried to save for Samantha.

Samantha.

He exhaled on the thought of her name. For years now her name was a symbol of how unfair life was ... she was the martyr in his life. That eight year old little girl; the prissy brat he resented all those years ago.

She was alive. She was waiting for him to find her. To rescue her from the clutches of the evil men ... the aliens ... they were all one and the same to him now.

They were the enemy. It was him against *them*. And Samantha, of course. And Scully.

His thoughts slipped back to the woman at his side. How would she react to Samantha? Like a sister? A friend? He tried to picture the two of them, standing together next to the heavy oak in his mother's back yard.

His mother nearby. The three of them talking and laughing. But he couldn't picture Sam as anything but the eight year old in the pictures he'd stared at for the last twenty-some-odd years. Sam all grown up? Living all those years without him? Growing and learning?

Time passes too quickly, he thought. And I'm ... I'm driving ... away from my wedding ... and my bride ... Scully ...

His foot lifted from the gas peddle and eased down on the brake.

Slowly Mulder guided the car over to the shoulder. In his ears Scully's voice echoed through his thoughts from the Easter dinner a few months back: "You're getting cold feet." Washington DC. Margaret Scully's house.

April 7, 1996
Easter Sunday

Mulder looked around the dinner table at his soon to be in-laws.

Directly across from him was Bill Jr. A tall, solid, dark man who laughed easily and seemed ever attentive to his two young sons. To Bill's left was his wife, Jen, who looked remarkably like a brunette version of Scully. She was smiling, and offering witty commentary at the appropriate times, but mostly she sat back and watched the events around her. Next to her sat Scully's other brother, Charles.

He wasn't at all what Mulder had expected. He was a small man, and as red as Dana. Mulder thought (at first glance) that he was possibly related to Agent Pendrell in the computer lab back at the Bureau. No wonder why Scully always seemed to like Pendrell.

His mother sat in the seat to Charles' left, quietly slipping the peas on to the back side of her fork. She seemed ... contented with these people. Perhaps even a little included.

She'd worn the small clock pin Scully had helped him pick out the previous Christmas as a sign of her willingness to play a role in his life now.

After so much isolation. Mulder smiled. She seemed almost happy.

To Mulder's right sat Scully in her green print Easter dress and pretty drop-pearl earrings. She looked so happy cutting her thickly sliced ham and chatting easily with her mother, who sat to Mulder's left. "I can't believe you're still planting a vegetable garden after that disaster with the lettuce last year, Mom."

"Yeah," Charles shot her a broad-toothed smile, "I still can't eat Swiss cheese, Mom."

The whole table laughed. Except Mulder. There was a lot he was going to have to play catch up to with a family that size. He looked to the woman on the other side of Scully. Caroline. Charles' wife.

She was a dish-pan blond with a rounded face and an angelic laugh.

Mulder actually knew very little about her, except that she was a screen writer for some high-rated romance show, and that she and Jen seemed to be the best of friends. Which made sense, he thought, since Jen edited romance novels for a living.

Their children played out back on the hammock, and laughing and screaming for fair play was heard above the adult conversation.

Mulder could see them through the lace curtains. Scully's nieces and nephews. Soon to be his. Family and children. Family *with* children. He looked back to the woman on his right and she instantly met his eyes.

"Mulder?" Her face turned to immediate concern. "Mulder, are you ...?" Before she could get the question out, he'd pushed away from the table and ran in to the half bath just off the mud room. The sound of him retching was her answer. Scully grimaced. "Must have been the yam casserole. My cooking has that effect on him." The excuse was feeble, she knew. It was her only contribution to the meal. And she didn't want to tell them the truth; or, at least what she feared was the truth. "I'd better go and check on him."

She knocked on the door and felt the knob give way under her hand. He stood hunched over, both hands firmly planted on either side of the porcelain bowl. She wetted a small hand towel, and waited until he was ready to stand up. But even then he was still looking a little green. "Feeling better?" She placed the cool towel over his face and allowed him to wipe his chin clean.

She turned on the faucet so he could rinse his mouth out.

"I told them it was the yams." She watched the muscles play in his back as he splashed rivers over his face. The thin cotton shirt was obviously wet from his sick. "Here," she pulled him upright to face her and began unbuttoning the front.

He brushed her hands away but refused to meet her face, "I can do it." He wasn't in the mood to be babied.

Babies. GOD. He leaned against the towel rack and wondered why they had to make *that* particular bathroom so small. Scully was standing practically on top of him.

"So," her voice was expectant. "Was it?"

"Was it what?"

"The yams." Mulder unfastened the last button and slid the shirt off his shoulders. Suddenly he felt very self conscious in front of her.

Which seemed odd to him, since it had never really bothered him before. She wasn't even looking at him in a particularly 'obvious' way - but then, perhaps that was what was different. "I didn't think so."

"What?"

She watching him snap back from a million miles away. "You're nervous, aren't you? About telling them."

Mulder balled up his shirt. "*I'm* telling them?"

Scully felt for the knob behind her and opened the door, "Right after dinner." Then she pulled him by the wrist and opened the clothes washer's lid. "Before dessert."

"I have an idea," Mulder tossed his shirt in, and found the powdered detergent on the shelf to his left. "Why don't you tell them, after I leave. I'm not feeling well."

"Oh, no, Mulder, we agreed. You're telling the family and I'm telling Skinner." She bit her lip before continuing, "Unless of course ... "

"What?"

"You're getting cold feet." She watched him measure out a small amount of soap, and start the machine. "Do you want out?"

Mulder turned to her and looked her squarely in the eye.

"It's not too late, you know. No one has to know ... if you've changed your mind." She turned and leaned against the humming machine, and stared down at her feet. "I mean, really it's understandable. I understand. Our relationship is fine the way it is."

She turned to leave, unable to take the twisting in her stomach, and unsure how she was going to face her family and pretend everything was fine. But Mulder placed a hand on her shoulder and stopped her.

"Dana." She tuned to meet his gaze, eye to eye. "It sounds like maybe you're getting cold feet." She shook her head. "Really?"

She nodded. "Good. Because there is no way on Earth that I would let you off as easily as you just tried to with me."

"I just ... I can't lose you." Her voice was hushed with emotion, but still strong with conviction. "And if this is too much ... if this instant family thing is too overwhelming . . . I can't lose you, Mulder. I can live the way we have been forever if I have to, but I can't lose you."

Scully knew she wasn't going to cry, but she wasn't so sure about Mulder. He pulled her tight against him, and felt her arms squeeze him even closer. "I love you, Scully." He kissed the top of her head. "And now I'm going to tell our family as much."

She looked up just as his lips came down, and they kissed slowly, gathering strength and reassurance from each other.

"Let me get you another shirt first," she winked at him, and slipped out the door.

September 1, 1996
Interstate 64, Heading West.

"What's the matter?" Scully sat up, immediately concerned when her partner pulled the car over to the side of the highway, jerking her out of her reverie. "Are you tired? Do you want me to drive for a while?"

"No."

Her throat tightened when she saw him switch off the ignition and pull the key from the steering column. "Mulder ...?" But when he opened his door and stepped out on to the freeway, she nearly leaped out of the car.

What was he doing? He wasn't going to run out in to traffic, was he?

"Mulder, talk to me!" He visored his eyes with his hand and walked in front of their car, the gravel gritting coarsely beneath his feet. Scully could see the stiffness in his spine from hours of sitting behind the wheel.

Maybe the monotony of the highway finally became too much for him. Or the anticipation of meeting his sister again. "Mulder, let's get a motel and rest for a few hours. Regroup. It'll be hours still before we hit the Kentucky boarder, and even then, we don't know how long it's take to get to the address. Or what we'll find there-"

"What? What do you *think* we'll find, Scully?" His eyes were hidden behind the black of his shades, keeping his thoughts hidden from her.

"I ... I don't know. Maybe nothing."

With his hands on his hips, Mulder hung his head and hissed, "I don't believe it. You think this is some kind of wild goose chase?"

The pitch in her voice went up a half step. "No, of course not, Mulder. I just ... I don't trust Moore, that's all I'm saying." All of a sudden she felt n the defensive. And she didn't like it.

"Moore saved your life!" His words were harder than he intended. Or at least Scully hoped they weren't intended to cut that deeply.

For a long moment she was silent. Then she raised her head to him. "I'm on your side, Mulder. Tell me what's really going on. Where is all of this anger coming from?"

Hugging his arms close to his body, Mulder turned from her and looked to the pink and orange sunset. Well, she'd pegged that one right. He *was* feeling a tremendous amount of anger. But he honestly couldn't say why. It wasn't Scully. Well, not her exactly. But there was a small part of him that felt guilty towards her, too. And that he resented. "This isn't my fault." His voice was almost ragged in her ears. "I didn't plan for this to happen."

Scully's brown furrowed. "Mulder? What isn't your fault?"

"This!" He threw a hand up, gesturing to the trees that surrounded him. "This!" Another hand went to the car beside them. "All of it, Scully. I didn't ... Jesus. I'm so tired." His arms hung limply from his shoulders as he turned away from her. "I'm sorry."

A small hand ran up the small of his back; firm and confident. "There's nothing to be sorry about. Mulder, I don't blame you for anything. As far as I'm concerned there wasn't a choice. You were given the possibility to find your sister ... there was no choice."

"There is always a choice, Scully."

"Right." She walked around to face him, her brilliant eyes forcing him to see her. "And I've chosen to be here with you. So we didn't get married today. So what? It doesn't mean that you chose against me, Mulder. It means you chose *for* Sam." She ran a hand up his chest and neck and cradled his thin, stubbled cheek. "Now, lets get some dinner and get back on the road. You don't want to be late for your date with destiny."

He tried to hide the smile that was forming just inside his heart. How did she do that? "So now you're believing in destiny?"

"I'm believing in you."

About twenty minutes up the road, Mulder pulled in to a small roadside diner that catered to large, truck-driving clientele. The neon yellow walls and purple vinyl stools must have been designed to keep the customers awake and alert, Scully figured. The monotony of the open road was hard to keep fighting, and she was afraid that both she and Mulder were losing that battle.

Scully was feeling the draining exhaustion that came from being alert and immobile. She wanted to fidget against the thick Naugahyde seat, but she didn't have the strength. Not even the grilled cheese and fries on the huge plate in front of her could tempt her to move. And Mulder didn't seem to be fairing much better. He stared down at his burger - one bite missing - trying to will it away. Of course, the food stubbornly refused to vanish.

"Not hungry?" Scully offered up a lop-sided smile as she balled up her paper napkin. Mulder's answer was a glance down at her full plate and a sigh. "How long has it been since you slept?"

Again, Mulder didn't speak. He leaned back in the over-sized seat. He knew what she was leading up to, just like she knew how he was going to respond. He watched her shoulders climb an inch closer to her ears as she prepared for his resistance. Resistance that, though he regretted it, he had no choice but to giving.

"I've been up for 42 hours, Mulder." Her voice was low and heavy. "I think we should stop for-"

"No." One syllable, carrying harsh tones and all the intensity that he could muster.

"Mulder, listen to me-"

"No." He pulled the coffee mug off of the chipped saucer and sipped the last of it away.

"Mulder." Her eyes pinned his over the rim of his mug and dared him to cut her off again. Her humor was completely gone. "I'm exhausted. I can't drive any more."

"I'll drive."

She rolled her eyes. "Come on. You're just as tired as I am-"

He leaned in over the table and spoke in a grumble of his normal voice, "I'm not stopping, Scully."

Her lips remained tightly closed against the phrases she wanted to scream at him. It wasn't the time to remind him that Sam wasn't the only person in the world that needed him. And even if it was, he wouldn't listen, she told herself. She could see the drive in his eyes, the tension in his jaw. She wasn't going to win this argument by forcing him in to anything. And she couldn't have him close up on her like he had been a few hours before.

There was too much at stake this time.

Sitting back in the booth, Scully played the only card she had left. "Okay, Mulder. But I'm trusting you not to push this too far. I'm *trusting* you to know your limits, to not get us killed on the road."

Mulder's eyes narrowed and he chewed the inside of his cheek. Damn it.

Damn it. Damn it. He pulled out his wallet and dropped a $20 on the Formica. Damn it all to hell. His eyes lifted to his partner; her darkened eyes expectantly watching him, trying to analyze just what he was going to do next.

"Scully -" he couldn't take her eyes. She could look right through him.

Right into his soul. He picked up a fallen fry from the table and pinched it between his thumb and fore finger and studied the grease that bubbled through the fried skin. "I can't stop now. She's so close, Scully. I can't stop now."

Then, he pulled himself up from the seat, his legs protesting all the way.

Scully watched him go out of the diner and shook her head. The man had waited twenty four years, he could wait one more day ... She stopped that thought. She wasn't being fair. If some one had said to her that Missy was alive, and that she was at the other end of a scribbled address, how would she react? Would she allow a motel stop? Or would she insist that they continue? Would she risk it?

Slowly she stood, stretched her back, inhaled a deep breath, and followed him.

The coolness of the night felt soothing against Scully's neck. Lately, it seemed like she was always hot. The Summer had been a long one, and now that fall was just a breath away, it was luxurious to run a hand through her hair and feel the breeze on her scalp. And then she saw Mulder and stopped dead in her tracks. He was leaning against the passenger side of the car, arms crossed, hair mussed.

He tried to smile, but it wasn't in him. Instead he mumbled, "So where's the nearest motel?" Tears prickled in Scully's eyes, but she swallowed them down. This was the Mulder she knew and loved. "Just on the outside of the parking lot." She caught the keys that he slid across the roof of the car. Then she looked up at the stars and thanked God for letting Mulder listen to reason; keeping him alive and safe just one more night.

The motel room was pretty much like any other of the countless motel rooms that the two agents had come across on their travels. Two double beds, a TV, a small bathroom and vanity. In silence, Scully splashed water over her face and stripped down to her bra and panties, Mulder to his briefs. Neither one bothering with the heavy suitcases in the trunk of the car. They curled up together on the bed farthest from the door, and pulled the thin comforter up and over their shoulders. Not exactly how Scully had always pictured her wedding night. But then, it really wasn't her wedding night, was it? She looked up at Mulder's tense face and kissed his nose.

His eyes fluttered open and unfocused, and he ran a hand behind her lower back and pulled her closer.

Scully blinked, cursing herself for forgetting the lights before she got so comfortable. Well, she decided, it didn't really matter. Mulder was already on his way to oblivion, and she - well, Scully would follow, just as she always did. She smoothed a finger across his furrowed brow, and it slowly began to relax against her gentle pressure. God. If Mulder ran blind into a burning building, she would probably follow him there, too.

So, she reasoned with a small yawn, she was just going to have to keep him pointed away from the blaze.

She trusts people who are trustworthy. She also trusts people who aren't trustworthy.

This is true trust.
-Tao Te Ching

September 2, 1996
Route 60, Kentucky

The road out to the farm was not in the best of repair and Scully was feeling a bit nauseous as the car jostled from hitting yet another pothole. She had known that French Toast was going to be too heavy for her but Mulder had insisted they have a good breakfast to avoid having to stop again for lunch. She glanced at her partner. He didn't seem as manicky as he had yesterday but with each passing mile he'd grown quieter, more tense and withdrawn, as if the reality of finding his sister required all his energy.

She hated these times - always had. He was so detached from everything, including her. They were more infrequent now, almost non-existent since they had become engaged but she knew if she reached out and touched him, he'd jump in startled surprise, having forgotten she was even in the car. What was he thinking, she wondered. What memories were replaying themselves in his mind? Were they about Samantha, about the night she disappeared? Or were they of more recent events, the quest itself and the price he had paid to find her? Did he ever wonder if the price was too high?

"You're staring, Scully," he said softly, belying her perception of his present state of mind.

"Sorry," she said, blushing as if she'd been caught having some immoral thoughts. She looked down at the hand-drawn map they'd obtained when they last stopped for gas. She couldn't suppress a small grin as she remembered the stereotypical mechanic, Mr. Frank S. Farley, as he'd proudly introduced himself, who'd been delighted to give them directions. After all, "those roads through them hills could be downright tricky."

"You okay?" she asked.

He nodded but his jaw remained clenched.

"Mulder..." She reached out and touched his hand.

"I've just been waiting for this so long, Scully, so long..." His voice trailed off, once again caught in the grip of his memories.

They continued on in silence which was only occasionally broken by their grunts as they bounced over particularly rough patches of ground.

After another half-hour, they turned a bend and saw their destination. Sitting back from the road, partially obscured by huge hardwood trees, was a large, well-kept farmhouse, its white clapboards almost glowing in the autumn sunlight. Mulder stopped the car and sat, staring at the sight. He was having trouble organizing his thoughts. It just... it just looked so damned normal! He could make out a porch, trimmed by a flower bed and a huge barn behind the house, further up the hill with a cornfield off to one side. He knew Sam was living on a farm but he really hadn't considered what that meant. Now it looked... substantial. How could she live out here, running a farm by herself? Moore told them she was going by the name, Conner, but Mulder assumed it was an alias. The files didn't contain any details, other than this address, more recent than 1984. That was when *they* had lost track of her. Now they had found her again, were threatening to take her again. But he'd gotten here first! They wouldn't get to her again. Without a word, he turned the car up the drive.

The approach to the house was in better condition than the road itself, mused Scully, taking in the well-maintained vegetable garden, some of the bounty ready for harvesting. The house looked old, almost defining the word, homey. Although they had not talked about it, neither one wishing to speculate on what they would find, Scully knew Mulder was expecting to see his sister, and *only* his sister. Scully was having serious doubts about this as she took in her surroundings. This may turn out more complicated than she thought it would be. She sighed. Why should this be any different than anything else they've been through? Scully's Apartment Sept. 1, 1996 1:30 am

"Mulder, what the hell are you doing? Why would you bring him here? Why would you even listen to him?" Scully's brain, still fuzzy from too many screwdrivers, refused to comprehend, to even acknowledge the rotund figure standing in her living room.

Mulder took her by the elbow and guided her none-too-steady form over to the couch. "I know this is a shock, Scully. I'm sorry but I couldn't chance a phone call." He looked over at Moore before turning pleading eyes back to the woman he still hoped would take him as her husband, assuming she was speaking to him by the time they were finished. "I found him trying to leave me a God damned note. I made him tell me, Scully. Now you have to listen too. This is important."

She nodded before the intensity of his gaze.

"My dear, I know I'm the last person you wanted to see, especially tonight. May I offer my best wishes, by the way?" Moore approached but was halted by the frozen look of mistrust on Scully's face. "I knew I wouldn't be welcomed here. This was a mistake, Agent Mulder, and I need to leave soon, in any case. I've told you what I know."

"You told me," Mulder snapped. "Now you're going to tell her! You owe her that much."

"So you mentioned before but I don't acknowledge the debt. I did what I thought best. I didn't have a choice and I've paid for my mistake." Moore's face twisted in unfamiliar lines of bitterness.

"Amber?" Scully's heart did a flip-flop of panic as she thought of the young girl's innocent face.

"Is well - at least as well as she was when you knew her."

"Then her condition was irreversible?"

"Yes." With one word, Moore killed Scully's hope - the one justification which might have saved him in her eyes.

"Where is she now?"

"In hiding, with her mother. I'll be joining them as soon as we're through here. You'll not be bothered by me again."

They were going on the run again, Scully knew. She merely nodded, angry for what had been done to Amber, for the life she and her mother would now be forced into. "And the project?"

Moore tensed as if in pain. He swallowed hard. "Goes on. But without me! I'll not be a part of it. Never again! Never... not after what I saw them do!"

Mulder moved to sit next to Scully, putting his arm around her shoulder, giving comfort for what was about to come. Without taking his eyes from Scully's face, he spoke directly to Moore. "Tell her," he demanded.

Moore hesitated, seeming searching for the right words but gave it up. There were no *right words* for what he was about to say. "They killed Janet's baby and they returned Janet to the streets of Chicago." He paused before adding in the same monotone, "I'm afraid her addiction is much worse now."

"Those bastards!" Scully's response was immediate and definitive. She was on her feet, blue eyes flashing fire. "And you helped them," she accused. "You helped them kill an innocent baby and now you think we're just going to let you walk away?" She looked around her frantically, scanning her apartment for her gun.

"Scully, wait!" Mulder was again by her side, arms out, trying to deflect her furious movements. "There's more."

Scully's eyes searched his face, desperate for answers. Mulder had listened to this person, this erstwhile friend, and had heard something important enough to come here on the eve of their wedding. She trusted Mulder; she would listen, too. She knew this but her head warred with her heart, her sense of justice at odds with her trust. She sank down on the sofa, waiting.

"You need to understand something about the way these men are organized. There are several projects scattered throughout the United States, possibly around the world. Each project has a separate team and there is no exchange of information, at least not at my level. I have no proof of anything but I can guess what some of these experiments pertain to given the findings of my previous research with abductees. I found out about Janet and her baby quite by accident but it was enough to show me that what I was trying to accomplish was folly." Moore began to pace the room, becoming increasingly agitated as he continued. "I started to do a little exploring of my own, not an easy thing to do, I assure you. I was hoping to find... well, none of that matters anymore and I'm running out of time. I found this." He looked at Mulder who pulled a set of papers from his coat pocket. "It's not a complete file, you understand and I couldn't chance staying there trying to sift through it, but the name grabbed my attention." Mulder handed her the papers.

She shuffled through them, scanning each page carefully before turning bright eyes to her partner, her lover, the man she wanted to spend her life with. "My God, Mulder, this is Samantha's file." Mulder didn't respond with words but his eyes told her all she needed to know, both his hope and his fear.

She turned her attention back to Moore. "Why?" It was all the question she needed to ask.

"This file belongs to a woman who is in a project marked for termination. I don't think I need to tell you how thorough these men are when it comes to covering their tracks once they are through with their subjects." Moore took another turn around the room, coming to a halt in front of Scully. "Perhaps I spoke hastily when I said I didn't owe either of you a debt. You tried to help my family - a misguided attempt but a sincere one, nonetheless. When I saw this file, and realized the fate in store for this woman, I had to come. I had to atone in some way for what I had done to my own family."

Scully couldn't hide the unbiddened tears which threatened to overwhelm her fragile composure. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe, it was the reinstatement of her trust in the man before her, but Scully felt profoundly moved. "Is there anything we can do?" she asked, thickly.

"Nothing," Moore replied and with that he was gone, disappearing into the night.

September 2, 1996
Conner Farm, Rush, Kentucky.

They pulled up to the front of the house, neither speaking or even looking at the other as they exited the Taurus. A little girl of about nine ran around from the side of the building before either agent could decide on a course of action. All three froze in place, surprise on the part of the child, shock plainly registering on the faces of Mulder and Scully. Scully had seen pictures and the image of the face standing before them was engraved in Mulder's memory. It was Sam's face!

The long, dark hair, the expressive eyes, the tilt of her head were identical to the Samantha of Mulder's memory. It was if time had froze. He half expected to see his mother come out the front door and call them all in to dinner. With the blink of an eye however, the facade of the past faded and Mulder returned to the present. Another blink and the young person standing before them took on her own features. While the resemblance to Sam was strong, this child was not his sister. He let out a deep breath.

As if this was her cue, the girl took half a step forward, cautiously watching the two strangers.

"Hi there," offered Scully in the tone used by adults not used to dealing with children. "I'm Dana and this is Fox. What's your name?"

Ignoring the question, dark eyes flashed to Mulder's face. "Your name's Fox?" she asked incredulous.

"Yeah."

She giggled. Mulder hunched in automatic response, looking for all the world like a shy schoolboy.

Scully couldn't resist a small smile of her own at this interchange but kept it carefully hidden from her partner. "What's your name?" she repeated.

"Karen."

"It's nice to meet you, Karen. Do you live here?" Scully took a step closer and crouched down to be at eye-level with the girl.

Karen nodded but she was obviously fascinated by the man with the weird name. Mulder was looking increasingly uncomfortable but couldn't help returning the girl's gaze. She was so much like Samantha.

Scully glanced to both of them and sighed softly. Mulder's brain seemed to have gone on hold. It was going to be up to her to get the information they needed. "Karen, is your Mom home?"

Mulder's eyes flew to hers. Then back to Karen's. Then back to Scully's. Scully could almost hear him turning this question over in his mind, ideas and preconceptions screaming as they reshifted themselves in his brain. The barely perceived tensing of his stance alerted her to his acceptance of the probability that Karen was Samantha's daughter.

Karen shook her head. "No, but my Dad's around back."

Thud! Scully's stomach dropped and she could only imagine Mulder's reaction. This was going to be bad. A daughter, a little Samantha, Mulder could cope with, but a husband? Scully risked a look to see his face pale, his jaw working as if he were literally chewing on this new piece of data. Okay, thought Scully, let's take the bull by the horns. "Karen, what's your Mom's first name?"

Before the child could answer, a strong baritone broke into the conversation. "Can I help you?"

Scully straightened to get a better look at the newcomer. He was as tall as Mulder, more deeply chested, with sandy blonde hair and walked with a slight limp. His brown eyes spoke of openness and honesty - here was someone who knew his place in the world and was content with it. For some reason Scully was glad Samantha had found this man. If it *was* Samantha, a little voice nagged in the back of her mind. She tried to push that thought to the side for the moment.

She looked over at her partner trying to gage his reaction but he was hiding behind the neutral mask of an FBI agent. Scully faltered for a moment, unable to slide smoothly into their partnership due to the conflicting emotions she was experiencing. She felt disoriented - the professional mein clashing with his personal demons. What role did he want her to play? How could she ease this for him? Mulder remained silent.

"Mr. Conner?" Scully asked, taking Mulder's silence to mean she should take the initiative.

"Yes."

"Mr. Conner, I'm Dana Scully. This is Fox Mulder." A pause but they received no reaction to the Mulder name. Scully floundered, unsure of what her partner wished to reveal to this stranger.

"We're with the FBI," supplied Mulder, speaking for the first time, his eyes never straying from the man's face. With practiced ease, he displayed his badge. Scully followed suit.

"FBI?" Conner repeated. "What's going on?"

Mulder swallowed hard, the emotion in his voice noticeable only to Scully. "We're looking for Samantha... Conner. We have reason to believe she's living here."

"Sam? Sam's my wife. What's this all about?"

Concern, a mild defensiveness, showed in Conner's eyes but not panic, Scully noted; no paranoia that they work for the government which they might have expected given Sam's abduction. Could it be that he didn't know?

Mulder took another breath. "There's a chance ... we believe... that is, we think that Samantha may be my sister."

The silence following Mulder's statement was profound. Scully could never remember hearing a sound. It was as if the birds themselves had fallen silent, waiting to see how this drama would unfold.

It was Karen who broke the tension by stealing into her father's arms and looking up at him. Quietly she asked, "Is this Momma's brother?"

Conner looked down at his daughter and then back at Mulder, searching his face for clues to the truth. Apparently satisfied for the moment by what he saw, he answered, "Maybe, honey, maybe."

Shaking himself as if to break the spell which had befallen them, Conner looked over to Scully. "Let's go into the house. Sam's in town getting groceries but she'll be back in less than an hour. She'd skin my alive if I didn't at least offer you some hospitality."

Without waiting for a reply, Karen lead the way, her father holding open the screen door for them to enter. Allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light after the bright sunshine, Mulder took the time to try and settle his thoughts. Sam. Was this person they were waiting for really Sam? His Sam? She had a husband, a daughter. Shit! She had a life! If this was Sam, did he have a right to barge in here and mess that up? Thoughts of Scully lying in a hospital bed after she had been returned to him, knowing what they had done to her, silence his thoughts. If he could stop these bastards from getting to Sam or her family, he had to try.

"You all just have a seat here in the parlor. I'll go get us something cold to drink. Karen, honey, you come with me," Conner instructed. Karen looked as if she wanted to protest but followed him into the kitchen, leaving the two agents alone in a comfortable living room.

Mulder wandered over to a shelf which was filled with picture frames of various sizes. Photos of the family stared back at him, smiles and obvious warmth mocking his loneliness, his quest, the emptiness of his own family life. A picnic in a park. Karen, as an infant, asleep in her crib. Another, with them all dressed in Halloween costumes. They were shades of what-might-have-beens which haunted Mulder's dreams as much as the nightmare of her disappearance, leaving him shaking with desperate longing.

Scully slipped her arms around his waist, hugging him from behind. He reveled in her touch, her mere presence fending off the darkness of his mood. For the millionth time, he thanked God or whoever else was responsible for bringing her into his life. He turned and hugged her tight, breathing in the smell of her hair, allowing her body to comfort his soul. "I love you, Scully," he whispered. "If I didn't tell you that today, I'm sorry."

"Are you okay?"

He pulled away and picked up a photo of the family at Christmas. "I should be in these pictures, Scully. If this is my sister, I should have been here to take these, to help them open their presents, to..." He stopped as his voice cracked.

"I know, Mulder, I know." Scully reached up a smoothed back his hair. "If it is her, there will be new pictures for all of us."

Scully moved over to the well-stuffed sofa, noticing how the tasteful print picked up the colors in the ceiling border that ran around the room. The furniture was practical and was polished to a high gloss but this was a room that was lived in. It spoke of order, and love, and welcome and was obviously someone's home in the finest sense of the word. Scully felt comfortable here, despite the circumstances. And she realized with a start: These people would be her in-laws. Scully smiled, dazed by the idea for some reason.

Easter Dinner, 1996
Scully Residence.

When Dana returned from the mud room, she walked briskly walked to the sewing room and retrieved one of Mulder's tee-shirts from his suitcase, and tossed it back in the laundry room, The whole family watched and noted the hum of the washer. Margaret sipped her tea as her daughter settled back at the table. Dana was trying her best to act as if nothing had happened at all.

"What's wrong with Fox?"

Stabbing a piece of sliced ham on her fork, she smiled sweetly. "Nothing. He's fine. It was just something he ate."

Caroline perked her nose up and folded her arms tightly across her chest. "Are you sure, Dana? He looked like he wanted to run. Something's got him spooked."

Jen ripped another roll apart, and added, "Yeah, he wasn't talking much tonight."

Then Caroline sat up with serious intent. "You think he's got some bad news? Maybe he didn't make finalist for the Publisher's Clearing House."

Bill Jr. couldn't resist getting in on the needling and offered up a dry, "He shouldn't have ignored that chain letter I sent him."

"He's fine." Dana focused on her plate and pretended the people around her weren't having a good time at Mulder's expense.

Jen put the roll back down on the plate and leaned on the table, studying Dana's nonchalance. Her eyes narrowed to slits. There *was* something more there that Dana wasn't telling them. And she was dying to know what it was. "What do you think she's not telling us?"

All eyes landed on Margaret. If anyone could tell what was going on in the mind of Dana Scully, it would have to be her keenly-observant, often-confided in, mother. But Margaret rested her elbows on the table and shrugged. "I don't know."

Jen blurted out, "Are you pregnant?"

"No." Scully answered without a second of hesitation.

Caroline leaned it to her. "Are you sure? You can tell us."

Scully gave her a cold look. "Of course I'm sure. I'm a doctor." Then she stuffed a new potato in to her mouth.

"I think she's pregnant."

"I'm not pregnant."

Excited, Jen insisted, "Give her the test."

Caroline's head wagged. "I can't give her the test without a lemon."

"I have a lemon in the fridge," Margaret offered.

"Mom, don't help."

With a definite nod, Caroline announced, "She's preggers."

But Bill Jr. put his fork down and glared across the table to his over-confident sister in-law. "My sister isn't pregnant, she's not even married. That's not possible."

His wife, sharing a knowing look with Caroline, playfully smacked his arm. "Oh, Bill, this is the nineties, get with it."

He looked at Jen, hurt and completely confused. "What are you saying?"

"Unplanned," mouthed Caroline in exaggerated size.

Scully bit off a hunk of roll, determined to keep cool and collected. She'd faced fat sucking mutants, she could handle her in-laws. "I'm not pregnant."

Bill considered the information laid before him, and sighed, a sad but resolute authoritative tone to his voice. "If you are pregnant, Dana, we're going to have to beat up Fox, you know."

Mrs. Mulder spoke up. "What? Why?"

"Well, if someone goes and knocks up your baby sister, you're supposed to do something, aren't you?" His logic was crude to say the least. But it earned a great round of laughter from both Caroline and Jen.

"Yeah, like buy a rifle and force him to marry her!" laughed Caroline.

Jen squealed with delight, "Ooooo a shot gun wedding!"

"I'm not pregnant."

"She's not pregnant." Mulder stood behind them with a half smile on his face. "As far as I know."

The room's scrutiny went from Scully, to the man over her left shoulder, and then back to Scully again. She wiped her smiling mouth but refused to turn to look at him. "Thanks for the confidence in that, Mulder."

"She is, however ... going to marry me." The eruption of screams and shouts of excitement and laughter bordered on hysteria. Only Scully and Mrs. Mulder remained seated. The rest took turns hugging Mulder and welcoming him in to the family.

Caroline whined a little when she gave him her congratulations. "I still think she's preggers." Scully looked up from her plate to find a quiet, wistful mother sitting and staring at her. Mulder's mother. The woman smiled and nodded slowly, not bothering to wipe the tear that ran down her cheek. "This is good," she said. Scully leaned forward and gently placed her hand on the hand of her soon-to-be-mother in-law.

The connection was made.

Can you deal with the most vital matters by letting events take their course?

Can you step back from your own mind

and thus understand all things?
-Tao Te Ching

Connor Farm.

Her revery and Mulder's brooding were interrupted by the arrival of Karen and her father, each loaded down with a tray. Scully quickly moved a stack of magazines off the coffee table to allow enough room for the refreshments to be deposited. Karen set out two plates of fresh-baked cookies, while her dad's tray was loaded with ice filled glasses and a pitcher of lemonade.

"Here we go. I hope I got this right," Conner started as he straightened his back. "Sam's the hostess of the family." He turned to glance over at Mulder, obviously uneasy with his silent moping, then looked back at Karen. "Honey, get your snack and go out on the porch. I need to talk with these folks for awhile."

"Aw, Dad, can't I stay too?"

A raised eyebrow was all the response needed as Karen picked out two crispy treats and dragged herself over to the door. Every movement was a protest. As the screen door banged shut behind her, her father permitted a smile of amused tolerance to light his face.

"Please, help yourselves," he offered, turning back to his guests.

Scully reached for a chocolate cookie, her gaze locking with her partner's. How should we handle this, her eyes asked. He gave her a barely perceptible nod. It would be her show for now while he observed.

"Mr. Conner, if you don't mind my saying so, you didn't seem very surprised by the possibility that Agent Mulder may be your wife's brother."

"I'm not, and, please, call me Randy. 'Mr. Conner' was my father." He gave Scully a disarming smile before he continued. "You see, Sam, she doesn't remember much about when she was little. She was raised by the state as an orphan."

Mulder's eyes burned into the back of Conner's head but he held his silence.

"I see," said Scully, shifting uncomfortably, aware of Mulder's glare."Maybe you can tell us a little more about that."

Randy sipped his glass of lemonade and sat back into the sofa's cushions. "Yeah, sure. I met Sam when we were in college. She was there on a full scholarship. She's real bright, my Sam." Pride infused Sam's husband's tone.

Mulder stiffened.

"We hit it off right away. She was real quiet and shy. Not like some of the other girls. When she wasn't in class, she was working as a waitress in this

diner I used to go to. We started going out after awhile and she told me about when she was a kid."

"You said she 'didn't remember much'," Mulder prompted.

Randy jumped a little, almost as if he were surprised that Mulder was still in the room. "Yeah. She told me her earliest memory was when she was about twelve. She was in some kind of institution with other kids. The only thing she could remember was that her name was Samantha. Nothing about having any family or where she came from."

"She never tried to find out as she got older?" Mulder's voice was slightly raised.

"I asked her about that one time. It was right before we were married. I thought... well, this might sound a little silly, but I thought she'd want some of her family with her on the day of her wedding." Randy ducked his head shyly.

"What did she say?" asked Scully softly, her mind flashing to what her own family was doing about now.

Randy hesitated, glancing over at the dark, moody man standing in his living room. He was apparently embarrassed by what he had to say. "She said that she had no interest in finding a family who had abandoned her. She said I was all the family she needed. We never... we never talked about it again."

Mulder reacted as if he'd been punched in the stomach. It certainly felt like something had hit him given the pain he experienced at Conner's words. Air rushed out of his lungs and he was having trouble breathing through the lump that had closed off his airway. A sudden rage blinded him, turning his vision red. He had to get away, move, use up some of this energy before he started punching out the walls. Had to get away from all of the trappings of normalcy. He felt his legs pumping as he dashed out the door, needing to be alone with the anger which consumed him.

Mulder wanted to curse but wasn't sure who his target was. He was having a hard time remembering who his enemy was - "them," the shadow government who hounded his career, putting not only his life but Scully's in jeopardy? His father, who for reasons of his own had chosen to give up one of his children? Some beings he couldn't understand but wanted to believe in? Samantha, for her lack of faith in him? Or was the real enemy himself? Didn't he work hard enough or fast enough or thoroughly enough to find the truth? To find Samantha so they could share their lives as a family.

He found he was breathing hard. It felt as if he'd run five miles but when he looked around, he saw he was standing across the large front yard of the Conner house. He couldn't bring himself to even think of it as a "home". The afternoon sun was burning his eyes as he blinked back the moisture he found there.

He expected to find Scully positioned on the porch, waiting for him, watching over his actions, ready to save him from himself. She wasn't there. Mulder wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved.

"Fox? Are you okay?"

He looked down in the worried face of Sam's daughter. My God, *his* niece! I might have a niece, he thought, dazed by the implications. Fox? Uncle Fox? Uncle Mulder? He put off that decision for later.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he lied.

"You look kinda sick." Out of the mouths of babes...

"Maybe a little. But I'll be okay."

Karen nodded wisely. "I'll tell Mom when she gets home. She can always make you feel better."

Mulder smiled weakly, "I hope so, Karen."

"Is he going to be all right?" Randy had jumped to his feet when Mulder had run out the door. He was obviously concerned, something which Scully appreciated, but was equally uncertain about how his concern would be received.

"I think so," said Scully with more confidence than she was feeling. Every molecule of her being wanted to go to Mulder, hold him, protect him from what he had to be going through. She also knew she couldn't really help. She couldn't take away his pain as much as she wanted to and she knew she would be more helpful if she stayed where she was, doing damage control. She couldn't let Mulder's brother-in-law see him as some kind of basket case. "He's been under a lot of strain since we learned of Sam's whereabouts. He's been through this before and has been disappointed."

"I don't understand."

Scully sighed, reluctant to give this relative stranger too much information. "Mulder's never stopped looking for Samantha. Others have used this against him in the past."

"But..."

Scully held up her hand to interrupt. "I'm sorry. As much as you want to know about Mulder, I can't tell you. It's his story to share and he might want to wait until Sam's here." She let Randy digest this information before she continued with her own questions. "Does your wife remember anything about her early childhood?"

"What? Oh, um, nothing much. She has nightmares sometimes but she won't talk about them. In fact, she got pretty angry once when I suggested that she go talk to someone about them. She says she can handle it and doesn't want some damn busybody poking around where they don't have no business being."

"Does she have these dreams often?"

"They sort of come and go. Sometimes they're real bad, almost every night. Then they seem to get better and she'll go months without having any. Sometimes..." He paused as if unsure he should continue.

"Sometimes?" Scully encouraged. She had the feeling Randy wanted to talk about this and was more worried about his wife's condition than he wanted to let on.

"Sometimes she has nightmares when she's awake."

Scully eyebrow rose in inquiry.

"She'll be standing in the kitchen, staring at a knife, just staring and then start screaming. When I try to talk to her, she says it was nothing, just a bad memory. But she can't say what she remembers. And sometimes, we'll be in town and she'll think someone's following us. It doesn't make any sense

but she just won't deal with it." Randy rubbed his face wearily. "She can be damned stubborn sometimes."

"I know how that can be," Scully smiled, glancing towards the door where Mulder had disappeared.

"Like sister, like brother?"

"Maybe. We still have to decide about that." Scully was rapidly coming to the conclusion that they had found Mulder's sister, however. She was worried about these flashes of memory Sam had, especially the feeling she was being followed. Given the shadow people who were interested in finding her, she may very well have been correct about this. It was important that she and Mulder talk to Sam and her husband and warn them about the danger they might be in now that *they* knew where she was. "When do you expect Sam to get home?"

"Any time now."

They were interrupted by Mulder's return. Karen was leading him by the hand as if he were an errant child. Scully was hard pressed to hide her amusement as her eyes caught Mulder's embarrassment. Before she could comment however, they heard the sound of a car pulling up the drive. Her levity died as she picked up on her partner's tension and felt her own pulse quicken in response.

Sam was home.

Karen rushed to the door and flung it open before anyone could stop her. Worried glances flew among the three adults, revealing their concern about the news that was about to be declared and how it would be received.

"Let's get out there," Randy said, the others needing no further encouragement.

They reached the porch as Karen was grabbing the car door.

"I'll do that, honey. You go play," Randy yelled before Karen could blurt out her announcement.

"But Daddy..."

"Go on now. We grown-ups are gonna have a talk and we don't want any Miss Busybody underfoot. Go on!"

Karen moved off, her entire body in as open rebellion as the nine-year-old dared. Randy walked over to the car to lend a hand bringing in the groceries as Mulder and Scully hung back, rooted to the porch. Scully idly wondered why her heart was racing and if Mulder could hear it. Probably not, she thought. His is beating even louder.

Mulder felt frozen in place. The agent had a passing thought he might never move again. Perhaps he was really asleep and, in this nightmare, he'd be able to see Samantha but not be able to reach out to her, touch her, tell her what she meant to him. There was a roaring noise in his ears, blocking out sound and his peripheral sight went hazy as all his attention focused on the dark-haired woman emerging from the car. He hoped he wasn't having a stroke since everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.

He was trying, without much success, to contain his excitement. He'd been burnt before and used the anger he'd felt then as a talisman against further disappointment. But it was hard to keep his guard up when every fiber in his being wanted this to be true, wanted this woman turning to look at him to be his sister.

Mulder couldn't hear what Conner was saying to her - he was leaning in close and speaking softly- but she gave him only a fleeting glance, more interested in the two strangers standing on her porch. She handed out two bags to her husband and took a third for herself before marching up to greet her guests. She was tall and thin and moved with an easy, bouncing grace. Mulder was reminded of Sam's fondness for skipping.

"Hi, I'm Samantha Conner. Randy said you wanted to speak with me?" She gave them both a warm but non-committal smile. It was the kind of smile one gave to a passing acquaintance who bought cookies from you at a bake sale. There was no recognition, no wonder or joy at finding a lost brother.

Mulder gave a nod and reached to take her package. He needed the movement to cover his rush of sadness.

"Thank you," Sam said, leading them back into the house. "Randy, you couldn't fix them something better than cookies? And on those old plates!" She rolled her eyes as she took in the remains of Conner's hospitality.

Randy had the grace to look sheepish but the gleam in his eyes was unrepentant. "I told you she was the hostess of the family," he said in a loud aside to the two agents. He took his bags into the kitchen.

"Please, sit down and make yourselves comfortable. I won't be but a minute." She whisked herself into the other room after seizing the bag out of Mulder's grasp before either could defend Randy's abilities as a host.

"She's a bit of a whirlwind," Scully said, keeping her voice carefully neutral. Mulder nodded again and walked to stand in front of the large picture window. His hands deep in his pockets, he studied the rug beneath his feet.

"She has your eyes," Scully pointed out, determined to get Mulder to respond to her. Damn it, this regression of his into isolation and self-absorption was not going to help this situation.

Mulder looked up at her comment. "Does she? Too bad she can't remember we get them from our grandmother on our mother's side."

Scully was taken aback by the bitterness in his voice. She came quickly to his side and stared into his troubled face. "Mulder, what did you expect? Randy told us she couldn't remember her childhood; that she's repressed what few memories she did have. Did you think all she would have to do was look at you for everything to be all right? God, think this through! You're the psychologist. If this *is* Sam, how can we help her regain what's she's lost?" Scully had reached out and held onto his arm, part of her itching to shake some sense into him. Leaning forward with her body, she tried to convey her love and support.

Mulder looked down, seeing her with fresh eyes. Her sincere wish to help Sam, to focus on the immediate problem rather than his jumbled emotions, helped bring him back to the reality of the moment. It was so easy for him to get lost in the darkness, he thought, borrowing the phrase from Melissa, appreciating anew Dana's ability to light his way. "And you're cheaper than those damn flashlights we're always losing," he whispered aloud, as he caressed her cheek, smiling at her confused expression.

"Just go check on Karen. I'm sure we'll be just fine without you for a few minutes," Sam was saying as she backed into the living room, loaded down with another tray and obviously talking to her husband. Mulder hurried forward to relieve her of the heavy load while Scully rearranged the items on the coffee table.

The odor of fresh-brewed coffee arose from the delicate, blue-flowered patterned pot which was surrounded by matching china cups and saucers. A plate of brownies accompanied the cream and sugar.

"I wish I'd known you were coming. I'd have gotten in something special," Sam muttered, clearly displeased with her offering. "Would you like something more substantial? I could make sandwiches." She was slightly out of breath, a testament to her scurrying in the kitchen in an effort to be hospitable.

"No, really, we're fine," Scully reassured the woman. "You shouldn't have gone to any trouble."

"Nonsense. Randy and I don't get many visitors and I don't get to fuss as much as I'd like to. Please, sit down."

Scully sat next to Samantha on the sofa and helped her pour the coffees as Mulder situated himself in a nearby armchair.

Once they were settled, Sam looked at Scully. "Now, how can I help you?"

Scully stole a glance at her partner but he had once again retreated to his role as observer. "Mrs. Conner, I'm Dana Scully and this is Fox Mulder." She paused, waiting for a reaction which never came. "We understand from your husband that you're an orphan and were raised as a ward of the State. Is that correct?"

Sam straightened and her friendly face became more guarded. "Yes."

"He also told us you have few memories of your early childhood."

"Yes. What's this all about?"

"Mrs. Conner, can you tell us anything at all about what you do remember, regardless of how slight. It might be very important."

"I don't remember anything. Who are you people?" Samantha had moved further away from Scully and was growing increasingly agitated.

"Mr. Conner said you had 'flashes' of memory. We might be able to help you recover some of your past," said Mulder softly. The intensity of his gaze pinned Sam to the sofa, belying the gentleness of his voice.

"I don't want it recovered, don't you understand? It's dead and buried and I don't want to dig it up! I won't! Now, who are you and what are you doing here?"

"Mrs. Conner... Samantha, I come from a small town in Massachusetts," Mulder began, his eyes never wavering from hers. "I grew up there with my mother, my father and my sister." He swallowed hard. "One night, when I was twelve, someone came and stole my sister. We never found her. There were no clues, nowhere to look. It tore the family apart."

Samantha was on her feet, unconsciously tracing the path Mulder had made towards the window. She glanced at Scully but Dana was lost in her own memories of a stormy night, wrapped in a blanket, listening as her brand new partner told her the same story he had just related to Samantha. Sam turned back to Mulder.

"I'm sorry about your family but it has nothing to do with me." Her hands were turning red from her wringing them together.

"Samantha, we have reason to believe you might be my sister," he said it simply, no evasion, no embellishment, studying her carefully and checking for her reaction. He didn't know what he was expecting but it wasn't this.

Her pale face gleamed with sweat, her body trembled. She was breathing hard and fast as if it were difficult getting the air past her tense muscles. She stared at Mulder, a flash of *something* crossing her features, only to be replaced with cold suspicion. "You're crazy! Who sent you here?" she hissed.

"Mrs. Conner, please, come and sit down," Scully encouraged, "we'll explain what we can."

Samantha threw her a look but returned her attention to Mulder.

"Answer me! Who sent you here?"

Before Mulder could speak or offer her comfort, Randy appeared in the doorway. "What's going on here?"

"Did you know? Did they tell you why they're here?" Sam demanded.

"Yeah, Agent Mulder here thought you might be his sister. I don't understand. I thought you'd be happy!"

Samantha reacted as if she'd been slapped. "Agent? What kind of agent? Who are you people?" She backed away, trapping herself in the corner of the room.

"Sam, honey, it's all right. They're not crazy. They work for the FBI. If anyone could..." He got no further as Sam snatched a poker from the fireplace, holding it before her like a weapon.

"The government?" she screeched. "They work for the government and you let them in here? You let them find me? Get out! Get out of my house, you bastards!" She scanned the room, keeping close watch on Mulder's and Scully's positions. "Are there more of you? Hiding? Waiting for me? Get out!" She started to cry, the poker shaking in time with her sobs.

"Honey, listen to me."

"I'll listen to you when they leave!" Sam cut him off.

Mulder took a step towards her, his hands held in supplication, his insides being ripped apart as he watched what was happening, knowing that his presence was unwelcome. He wanted to make things better, to take away her pain, to make things right for her.

Sam raised the poker, fear foremost in her eyes. Randy rushed forward to stop her, grabbing hold of the rod, as he wrapped her in a hug. At the same moment, Scully reached for Mulder's arm, pulling him back. He glared down at her. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded through clenched teeth.

"Mulder, this isn't helping. Look at her! She's scared to death!" Scully pulled him around trying to get him to listen. "She needs time. I think we should leave," she whispered.

"She needs me to be here!"

"Look at her," she repeated. "She needs time." She stepped back as if to allow Mulder a better view of Samantha and her husband even though the tall agent could easily see over her head.

Randy held Sam in a bear hug, trying to keep her restrained, murmuring words of reassurance which had no effect. She argued, demanding that Randy get rid of them. He had removed the poker and put it aside. His eyes told the pair to leave.

Mulder's jaw tightened as he took in the scene. Guilt and envy ate at him in equal measures with a fair dose of frustration thrown into the mix. How could he leave her like this, he wondered. But Scully was again tugging at him.

"Mulder, we can come back tomorrow. Think about what she needs, not about what you're feeling."

That hurt. This was his sister, damn it! It wasn't selfish to want to be with her when she was hurting. But he didn't have much of a choice. Without saying a word, he turned on his heel and left, pulling his arm out of Scully's grasp. She silently followed, feeling his anger in the pit of her stomach.

They were almost to the car when they heard the porch door slam shut. Turning, they saw Randy approaching them warily. When he got closer, he stopped, looking at the ground, putting his thoughts into words. "I'm sorry about this. If I had known she'd... well, I can't..." he floundered before trying again. "Let me talk to her, try and calm her down some." Mulder refused to make eye contact and instead stared off across the fields.

"We'd appreciate anything you could do," said Scully, exasperated with Mulder's obvious attempt to ignore the gesture Conner was making.

Randy gave Mulder a final glance before patting Scully's arm affectionately. "Come back tomorrow afternoon. We'll try and get to the bottom of this." He retreated back into the house, as Mulder got into the car.

Scully sighed, knowing she was in for a long ride back to the motel.

He who stands on tiptoe
doesn't stand firm.
He who rushes ahead,
doesn't go far.
-Tao Te Ching

September 2, 1996
Route 60, Kentucky.

Mulder sat in the passenger side of the car, not trusting himself to speak.

The frustrations of the last quarter of a century were piercing his skull, drilling their way through his forehead. But it wasn't the mounting headache that left his whole body in knots. It was the simple fact that he had seen her - talked to her - and she denied him. His own sister had refused to acknowledge his right to know her. He knew she'd remembered.

At least partially. He'd seen the look of recognition; a little flash of ... something. But then, she withdrew. Deny everything. That last thought made Mulder wince.

He watched the grassy pastures roll by with little regard. The last place he wanted to be was in a car, driving away from her. It was ridiculous. To find her only to discover that after all he'd gone through - after all he'd suffered and forfeited for her - that she didn't WANT to be found. To see the life that she'd made away from him. The woman his sister had become, so different from the little girl she was.

Next to him he heard a feminine voice. A question was put to him, but the words slipped around him refusing to sink in. The look of abject horror on Samantha's face repeated before his eyes, keeping his ears deaf to anything but the sound of her husband - HUSBAND - wrapping his arms around her, and in a smooth, bass voice, consoling her. That man consoled her when she wouldn't even let Mulder touch her. Or her daughter. His niece.

Karen, his niece. Poof. Instant family.

He turned to the woman next to him, this time he could see her lips moving, but the sounds were unrecognizable; almost non-existent. Like he wasn't anywhere near her.

He closed his eyes and let his head flop back against the head rest. She shouldn't be here, he thought. Scully doesn't know what to do. She wants to help, but she can't. She's demanding attention that I can't give her right now. I'm sorry Scully, but I can't. I have to do this alone. I can't split my focus. Everything is so out of control. I can't deal with you now. I can't share this with you. I'm sorry, Scully, but I can't ...

And his silent apology rolled on and on until she turned off the car in the motel parking lot.

Without a word, she climbed out of the car and entered the motel lobby.

She didn't see him slam his fist on the dashboard, didn't hear him curse himself. "Damn it, Mulder! She loves you! She doesn't deserve to be treated like she doesn't count in all of this. Like she doesn't have a right to be here." The timber of his voice boomed in the empty car cabin. "She deserves so much more." We all do, he added quietly in his head.

When she returned, a coppery key on the end of a huge green key chain tightly gripped in her right hand, Mulder made an effort to smile at her.

And she returned the favor in kind. "I got us a room on the ground floor."

She turned the ignition and he placed a hand on her arm. She looked up to meet his eyes, but they were focused straight ahead, some where off in the distance.

He inhaled before he spoke. "Scully." He wasn't sure where to go after her name. "Scully ... Scully, I'm having some trouble ...I mean, Samantha ... she ... I can't ... I want you to know ... that ..."

With more tenderness than Mulder had ever seen in his life, Scully placed a hand over his and murmured a soft, "I know, I understand."

No. No you don't, Mulder thought as he pulled his hand away from her.

She didn't understand. She KNEW her sister, she had years to know her, watch her grow. Scully didn't have any idea what he was going through, of the torment she was putting him through, insisting that they leave to give Sam time.

Sam didn't need time. She'd already had too much time. If Scully understood, she would know that without question.

Mulder needed to be with his sister. To help her to accept him; help her to remember whatever she might have forgotten. He had to tell her that he never stopped looking for her - that she'd been part of his life for the last twenty-five years, even if she didn't know it. He needed to tell her that he loved her. But more importantly, that he was sorry. He needed her forgiveness for being a bullying older brother who didn't have the courage to save her. That he HAD tried, but in the end, his attempt hadn't been enough.

"I'm sorry," he said aloud, and started at the sound of his own voice reverberating through him.

"It's okay, Mulder. I understand." Scully switched off the car and gave him another smile, this time it was returned with a vacant stare. Mulder blinked, clueless to what she was talking about.

Leaning against the motel headboard, Mulder stared past the moving image on the screen from across the room. Scully sighed. He'd made no attempt to communicate with her since that odd conversation in the car, over four hours ago, and she was beginning to worry. It wasn't like Mulder to be so lifeless. He didn't even put up a fight when she demanded to drive. When she'd gotten the room, she had considered, albeit briefly, if maybe Mulder would be more comfortable in his own room. If maybe he needed his own space to be alone. But she had reconsidered when she thought that it would be better to be within ear shot, should he decide to talk ... or within arms length should he decide to do something that wouldn't help the situation at all. Like going in the middle of the night to try and see her again. Having Sam think her brother was some kind of crazy stalker was the last thing Scully wanted. It would take time for her to come around, but Scully knew that eventually she would. Who could resist Mulder indefinitely?

She sat across the room at the small table, her laptop pulling her E-Mail off line beside her. Mulder's features were frozen. His tie hanging loosely down either side of his opened work shirt He looked hung over. Or in pain. Or mad as hell, Scully surmised. He wishes I'm not here. He feels I'm holding him here, keeping him from her. She leaned forward, resting her head in her hands. God, this was hard. She knew in her heart that she wasn't really denying him his sister. If anything, she was helping to smooth things between them. Sam had been upset by their arrival, and Mulder's insistence that she was his long lost sister didn't help. Scully trusted that Samantha's husband would be able to calm her down enough that they would be able to talk calmly in the morning. And it was her job, Scully's job, to make sure that Mulder was ready for that talk, too.

She sighed and looked at him. His eyes traveled from the muted TV to the ceiling. Scully had always figured that when Mulder found his sister - IF he found his sister, that he would finally be at peace. That he would be able to relax. To live and enjoy life without some childhood trauma shadowing his every move. That he'd finally be happy.

But he HAD found her, or at least someone they both believed to be Samantha, and he wasn't happy. He looked tired. Haunted, almost.

Angry. The muscles in his jaw popped as he gritted his molars. The ceiling still held his focus as Scully sighed again. What was he thinking?

"She's beautiful." The thin film of his voice barely made it to Scully and she wondered if he was talking to her, or just talking. "Don't you think?"

Scully nodded and gave him a small smile. He missed them both. "Yeah. She doesn't look as much like you as I had expected."

Immediately he sat up and demanded, "What's that supposed to mean?"

The force of his tone caught Scully off guard. "Nothing." She caught herself before she stammered, but not before the look of utter shock was able to register on her face. "It was only an observation. She looks more like your father-"

"And just what do you know about my father?" His eyes were ablaze.

Scully's heart squeezed in to the back of her throat. With wide eyes she insisted, "Nothing."

The moment that followed was tense and painful. And Scully, for the life of her, didn't know what was going on. What had gotten in to Mulder?

Why was he verbally attacking her? Then the moment passed, and Mulder leaped up from the bed, declaring that he was going for a jog.

It wasn't until he was out the door and she heard the engin rumble to a start before she questioned him running in his dress shoes and pants. She bolted out the door just as their Taurus skidded out of the parking lot and on to the small access road.

"Damn it!" she cursed, slamming her fist in to the door jam. "Damn it all to hell."

Before he knew what he was doing, Mulder was in the car and speeding away from the motel. He had not intended to leave Scully with such a blatant lie - he had no intentions at all. He was just acting and reacting; feeling lost and alone. Just like that night half a life time ago when his nightmare first began.

The first heavy drops splattered across the windshield and he automatically flipped on the wipers. They scrapped across the mostly dry surface with a protesting groan. A storm was most definitely coming, Mulder knew, and he left the wipers on in preparation.

"She will listen to me," he repeated to himself endlessly, the sound of his voice as ineffectual as the creaking wiper blades. "She has to listen." She was his sister for Christ sake! How could she ignore that? Even if she wasn't readily accepting to that idea, she couldn't ignore the *possibility*.

"Randy will help."

That last thought stuck in his mind. How could she have a life without him? How could she go on, when he hadn't? Well, not until recently.

How could his baby sister have a baby, herself? They'd robbed him. All of them: his father, the shadow men, Samantha - they'd all denied him.

"NO!" Mulder slammed his fist in to the steering wheel and the car wobbled in to the passing lane. "Stop blaming!" he reprimanded himself.

"Stop hating." He'd found Samantha. That was all that mattered. His sister was alive and safe and just a minute away. He'd sit her down, they'd talk. He'd find out how much she remembered. He'd make it easy for her; help her accept him. He'd be the brother she always deserved to have.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw it. The sight that stopped his heart in his chest.

Fire.

The dark fields surrounding the two story farm house were like a void surrounding a blazing star. Tongues of red and yellow stretched from the upstairs bedroom windows. The roar of the blaze rolled over Mulder as he turned on to the long, dirt driveway; his foot slamming down against the floor board.

He had his gun out even before he saw the front door broken off the hinges, and the gaping holes left by a high powered gun. Black smoke poured from the top of the door frame. Just the thought of rushing in to the heat burned his eyes. God, fire. Why fire? The heavy smell constricted his lungs. Anything else he could have handled. Anything but fire.

And then he heard a scream. Or what he thought was a scream. The constant roar of the blaze drowned out and distorted the sound, but instantly Mulder thought of his sister and knew what he had to do. He refused to lose her to his fears again. Not this time. Not ever again.

With his shirt sleeve, Mulder wiped his face and hunched down. Then he took in a gulp of air, and plunged forward in to the burning house.

Like an expert, he swept through the darkened foyer and front room. The visibility was down to nothing in the dark haze. The smoke billowed from the stairway like a thick cotton blanket.

Mulder tried to feel his was in to the living room with his feet, nearly tripping over a large object. Mulder bent down to try and see what he'd run in to. A body. In a dark suit. He rolled the man over; another faceless shadow-government pawn.

Mulder pushed himself up and away, desperate to continue his search for Sam.

But then, from his left, Samantha emerged. Her daughter held ungainly in her arms; both clinging to one another. Behind them, Randy lurched forward, nearly knocking the three of them off balance, but Sam recovered quickly and helped to steady her husband. Behind him, another man in a dark suit held a large gun.

Mulder reacted before he knew what was happening. He felt the hot iron of his gun recoil in his right palm. A stifled scream erupted from his smoke-swollen throat. Then a second scream and a third; one on top of another; and then both Randy and the would-be kidnapper fell to the ground. Samantha was the next to scream, dropping to the floor next to her husband, repeating his name. Karen still clinging tightly to her body, crying uncontrollably. A second later, Mulder was there, too, assessing the damage and cursing his actions. The bullet, it seemed, ripped through Randy's left arm and carried on straight in to the chest of the suited man. "Shit."

Struggling deliriously, Randy tried to sit up. Mulder wrapped his arms around the wounded man and pulled him up to his feet. "Get her out!" He screamed above the roar of the encroaching fire, "I'll help Randy! Get out of the house!"

"Get away from him!" she screeched, "You shot him!"

The hatred in her eyes shot through Mulder like a thunder clap. He felt his body go numb around the tunnels that watched the scene play out before him. Through the choking smoke, Mulder heard himself say, "Fire! Damn it! Get out! I've got him!" He saw Randy put an arm around the 'other' Mulder, and Sam hesitating for less than a moment before struggling to her feet and scurrying with her daughter in to the coolness of the night.

The two men followed closely behind, all four coughing and hacking the soot from their lungs.

The rain was falling steadily, and Mulder stopped a few feet outside the door to try and clear his head enough to think. Sam reappeared at Randy's side after loading her daughter in to the back seat of the black Jeep Cherokee. She gently pulled her husband towards the car, Mulder following blindly, supporting the majority of Randy's weight ... and then all of it when his legs gave out.

Somehow they got Randy in the vehicle, next to a still weeping Karen, her tiny body convulsing around each sob. Randy did his best to assure her that everything was going to be okay. But the little girl couldn't take her eyes off of her daddy's arm long enough to hear him. Sam ran around to the driver's seat and Mulder crawled in the passenger side next to her.

"What are you doing?" she demanded as the engine turned over. "Get the hell out!"

"I'm going with you," Mulder heard himself say, "you need protection."

She turned to the man beside her and lashed out: "We need protection from YOU!" Her frantic, random swings knocked the stick shift out of 'PARK' and when the car jerked in to motion, Randy let out a cry behind them.

Karen whimpered, "Daddy, don't die!"

"Don't worry, sweetheart," his words echoed more hope than his voice could carry.

"No one's going to die!" Sam's determination helped to put a little hope back in to their daughter. Then her focus switched to her husband.

"Randy, how bad is it?"

"Lot of blood."

Sam winced at the slur in his speech. He didn't mention the pain, but it was clear to everyone in the car that there was a lot. "Damn!" She ran around to Randy's door. "Let me see."

A lot of blood was an understatement.

Rivers of fluid gushed from the wound, dampening his shirt, jeans, and half of the seat. Sam yanked off her belt, and tried to secure it, tourniquet style, around his upper arm. He cried out at the intense pain that surged through every molecule of his being. Then his head lulled to the right. "Stay with me, Randy." Sam tugged at his cheeks to get some blood back in his pale face. "Christ! Randy! Talk to me!"

"Daddy!" Karen rocked back and forth as she cried, scared to touch her father.

Suddenly, like a jolt of lightning through a carcass, Mulder jerked back in to himself. The horror and terror was pushed away, and the immediate concern of saving Randy from his terrible aim smacked him in the face.

Hospital? Where? They were in the middle of nowhere.

"Get in the car!" Mulder leapt out from the passenger side of the car and pulled his sister off from her husband, and shut her in the front seat. Then he ran around to the driver's seat. Scully could help. She would know what to do. He threw the car in to drive and stepped hard on the gas, sending the car away from the engulfing blaze behind them, and hurdling into the emptiness of night.

Why did it always have to be so dark?

June 29, 1996
Pennsylvania, SR 2920.

The night seemed to engulf everything around them on the little-traveled back road. The old iron bridge that stretched lazily across the dry river bed was less than 100 yards away, by its blackness was silhouetted against the moonless, starless night. Mulder couldn't see a thing; not the bridge, not his partner sitting a few inches to his right, not even his hand held an inch from his nose. He reached across with that hand and encountered a shoulder clad in a linen blazer. And a whisper came back at him, "I'm still here." Feeling for his watch, a small light flicked on Mulder sighed. "It's only 10:30," his whisper leaning closer to her ear than intended. "It feels like we've been here for hours."

"We have been here for hours," she whispered back. "Where the hell are they?" Mulder settled back in his seat. In his mind it was quickly becoming obvious that the mysterious tip had been a hoax, and their chief suspects were not, in fact, meeting with the 'pay off'. At least not at this particular bridge on that particular night. Damn! Everything had been so carefully calculated. Every possible detail carefully scrutinized.

Together, he and Scully had gone over a hundred possible scenarios, hoping for a real break to catch the villains in the act. What would they do when the group didn't show? Scully's hushed voice washed though the car. "We'll just go over the facts again. Find the one scenario we obviously didn't think of."

Mulder held his breath. "Why did you just say that?"

There was a small hesitation on Scully's part, caught off guard by his question. "Well, it just stands to reason that we must have missed something if they didn't show up tonight. I mean, even if the tip was a hoax, to throw us off their trail -"

"No," his mouth came carelessly close to her ear, and she could feel his moist breath against the left side of her neck. "What I mean is, how did you know what I was thinking? I didn't say a thing."

She paused again and replayed the conversation in her head. "Of course you did. You asked what we were going to do if they didn't show -"

He stopped her. "No, Scully." The thrill in his voice was plain, "I THOUGHT it, but I didn't SAY it."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't."

Their voices were abruptly interrupted by the steady white beams of an approaching car. Then the quiet rumble of another. Without another second, both agents were out of the car, weapons drawn, eyes and bodies focused on the newest arrivals to the scene. The stark light cast a minimal wash over the surrounding area, and with their dark-accustomed eye, Mulder was able to signal for Scully to take the right flank and she nodded her acceptance of the plan./p>

Just ahead of them, on the bridge, and partially obscured by the solid iron girders, several dark men in dark suits stepped out from their dark cars and into the light. Then all hell broke lose. A flash of red from the bushes on the far side of the river bed sent men scattered in every direction. Car doors slammed, more gunfire, angry screams and curses rang out. Mulder felt the low rumble of a car barreling towards him and he instinctively threw his body out of the car's path, landing on a rock incline./p>

Somewhere he heard Scully's voice screaming for someone to "HALT! FBI!" and several shots fired again as he tumbled down the slop and hit the dried mud hard. With his face. And then the darkness, the inevitable darkness that seemed to follow him, swallowed him, too.

The hard and the stiff will be broken.
The soft and the supple will prevail. -Tao Te Ching

Motel 6, Wayvern Road
Sept 2, 1996
11:02 PM

Scully sat on the bed against the headboard, a warm glass of tap water in her hands. She ran a tired palm over her face and kicked off her shoes.

What the hell was she going to do? Leave? Stay? Be resentful or understanding? Remain intact or crumble like a discarded paper bag?

She was inclined to opt for the latter, knowing full well that in the end, she'd resort to the former. It wasn't the first time Mulder had run off without her. And no matter how hard she tried to kid herself, it wouldn't be the last. Mulder was Mulder. And when the goings got tough for him, he invariably left her behind.

Only this time she was stranded at some motel in the middle of nowhere Kentucky. This time she knew with almost guaranteed certainty where he was running to and what would happen when he got there. And no doubt, she'd have to be there on the sidelines waiting to pick up the pieces at the end of the day.

She sighed heavily, her chest feeling constricted inside her bra. Why did

she put up with his crap? She knew that she would never leave him willingly, no matter how many times she threatened to when he ran off without her. They were empty threats, and they both knew it. And she felt diminished by them. Weak. Ineffectual.

So she would have to wait. What other option would she allow herself?

Ignoring the fact that this was supposed to be their honeymoon ... and somehow her thoughts always came back to that: the wedding that never was. The elegant white dress hanging adoringly from the brass hook in her bedroom. Lace and satin. And those thoughts, the ones that resented the situation they were in, or more importantly, the ones that repeated 'it is no accident that this happened now', made her feel selfish and guilty.

Mulder was finally going to get his sister back.

Scully clutched at her turning stomach. There was no doubt in her mind that Mulder loved her. None. So why should one Catholic ceremony matter in the long run? Because. Because the vows said much more than a simple confirmation of love. Maybe in her heart she feared that the commitment was too much for him - that the phrase 'for better or worse, 'til death do us part' was too much for her to expect. Maybe a 'through good times and bad, as long as it doesn't get too bad' would be easier for him to deal with. Or maybe a 'for today and tomorrow, but we'll wait and see about the next day' would work. Damn him!

The glass hit the night table hard and she grabbed the phone. She stared at it for a moment wondering just what she was planning to do. Call Sam?

Call her Mom? "Oh, yeah. Call Mom. How old am I again? And just when did I become so dependant on my mother?" She moaned aloud to herself, "I should probably call her." And after a brief weighing of the pros and cons, she decided in her mother's favor. There was no reason for Margaret to suffer while she sat waiting for Mulder's return.

As she dialed the number, Scully briefly considered: What if he doesn't come back tonight? What of he doesn't come back-

"Hello?"

"Mom? It's me."

The frantic voice of her mother sent a flood of guilt through Scully's stomach. "Dana! Are you all right? Is Fox okay? What happened?

Where are you?"

"I'm fine, Mom. And Mulder's okay, more or less. What happened is a little more difficult to explain."

Margaret didn't miss a beat. "Did you two elope? Are you married?"

Scully couldn't tell if she heard hope or annoyance in the rapid fire her mother was sending.

"No, Mom, we're not married. We, uh ... we found Mulder's sister. We think."

Margaret shrieked, "What?!? She's alive? You're kidding! That's wonderful, honey! Is she okay? What's she like?"

"Yeah, she's been living in Kentucky. She's got a farm. A family."

"Kentucky? Dana, is that where you are?"

"Yes." Scully took a deep breath. "I'm sorry about not calling sooner, but for a while we were scared we might have been followed ..."

"Followed? Dana? What aren't you telling me?"

There was a moment where Scully considered lying, simply to save her mother some unnecessary grief. But she couldn't do it. "Mom. There's a lot I'm, not telling you." Then her voice caught in her throat and cracked.

"Oh, Mom. It's all falling apart."

The concern in Margaret's heart doubled at Scully's last statement. Rarely had Margaret ever seen Dana emotional, and the whimper on the other end of the phone line sent up all of her flags. "What's falling apart, sweetheart?"

"Mulder. Us. Everything. You realize, of course, that now that he had Samantha back, he doesn't need the X-Files. And me."

"Dana-"

"No, really! I'm not his wife. He's not my partner anymore-"

"Of course he is, Dana. Things like that don't change over night."

"Yes, they do. Your whole life can change with one word. One blink of an eye, and -" Scully choked down a deep sob and tried to brush the tears from her eyes.

"Did the two of you have a fight? Is Fox there now?"

"No. He's being unreasonable. Expecting too much too fast. He took the car and left, Mom, and my first instinct was to get the hell away from this place. I almost called a cab and came home."

"What?!"

"He doesn't want me here."

"Dana, honey. Calm down. I'm sure that's not the case. Fox loves you."

And Scully laughed a deep, painful chortle. "Yes. Yes, he does. Mulder loves me. But I'm wondering: Is love enough?"

There was a moment of silence and then Margaret asked, "Enough for what?"

The question hit Scully off guard. "Are you saying I'm wrong? That I'm being ... unreasonable?"

"Of course not, Dana. I'm simply asking what you really expect. What do you want from him?" Margaret swallowed, "because it sounds like you're wanting more than he's giving-"

"Or can give?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that. I think Fox is a man who is capable of a lot of giving."

And finally Scully smiled. "That, he is."

There was a comfortable lull before she spoke again. "Mom, I'm sorry about the wedding, too. I didn't mean ... I had no intention for things to turn out the way they did."

"I know, honey." Margaret cleared her throat. "Should I try to reserve a new date for the church? Father Christopher said the schedule towards the end of the month looks light."

Scully's face twisted in agony. "I don't think so, Mom."

That was the one response Margaret didn't want to hear. "Well, just let me know. We've saved the cake, just in case."

Nodding, Scully wiped fresh tears from her eyes, "Thanks, Mom. I bet it was beautiful."

"It is. Shannon really out did herself."

"I'll have to thank her."

"Yes, you will."

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you, baby. Be safe."

And as Scully hung up the phone she whispered, her own personal plea.

"Mulder, be safe."

Scully didn't think it was possible for her to sleep in her agitated state but realized she must have dozed off when the screech of tires and a clap of thunder jolted her awake. She settled back down, trying to slow the pounding of her heart. It wasn't the Taurus. She snuggled into the pillows, hoping to recapture the warm place where she had been.

Mulder's abrupt entrance, his shirt front stained in blood, yanked her to her feet, however. She was by his side in a heartbeat, trying to simultaneously pull at his shirt and push him into a chair.

"My God, Mulder, what happened? Sit down and let me see," she snapped when he resisted her prying fingers.

"It's not my blood! I'm fine. It's Randy!" He grabbed her arm, propelling her to the door. "It looks bad."

Splashes of wet assaulted Scully's face as soon as she stepped out from under the small overhang above the doorway. She briefly wondered if she was trapped in a nightmare as lightning creased the sky, revealing the mud-spattered jeep. Sam was reaching into the backseat, dealing with Randy, Scully assumed, though she couldn't see him. But it was Karen's forlorn look of despair which caught at her heart. The child was standing by the car, oblivious to the downpour, staring into the rear window, tears and raindrops coursing down her cheeks.

"Mulder, get Karen out of the rain before she catches a chill. I'll take a look at Randy."

Mulder shook his head. "You'll need help with him. He was dead weight when we got him in there."

"Is he conscious? What happened?" Scully had to raise her voice to be heard over the storm as they reached the car.

At the sound of her question, Sam spun around. "What happened?" she shrieked. "He shot my husband! That's what happened! You bastards burnt down my home! That's what happened! Get the fuck away from us!"

Scully didn't have time to react to Sam's accusations, though she noticed Mulder's flinch. She was looking past Sam, seeing Randy's pale, waxy-complexioned face, the blood soaked interior, his short, labored breaths. "Listen to me. I'm a doctor. Your husband is going into shock. If you don't let me in there to treat him, he might die."

Sam studied Scully for what felt like a minute, fear and helplessness warring with her suspicions, before nodding her head and stepping to one side.

"Take care of your daughter," Scully ordered before ducking inside to attend to Randy.

Sam refused to make eye contact with Mulder as she hurried around the back of the jeep, scooping up Karen as she went, running with her into the motel room. Mulder followed her with mournful eyes full of apology.

He stood there until Scully tugged at his sleeve. "I don't like moving him but I can't do anything until we get him out of the car. Can you handle him?"

Mulder nodded, not trusting himself to speak, his knees trembling with exhaustion. He reached all the way into the jeep, almost cradling Randy's body as he positioned the barely conscious man. Sitting him up with his legs hanging out the car door, Mulder leveraged him into a fireman's carry, almost slipping in the mud, until Scully helped to balance him.

Giving the two men a quick, worried glance, Scully went ahead into the room, wanting to pull down the bedcovers. Randy was going to need their warmth.

Mulder followed carefully. He was blinded for a moment by the room's light but squinted enough to gently lower his burden onto the bed, holding him upright until Scully could tear away his bloody shirt.

"Okay, get his feet," instructed Scully, pushing away the pillows. Once Randy was flat, she grabbed the discarded cushions and placed them under his feet. She then pulled the blankets over his body, leaving his wounded arm exposed. A cursory exam had revealed a ragged, gaping hole. Assuming Randy lived, Scully knew he'd lose at least partial use of the arm due to muscle damage. "Get me the extra blanket. And we're going to need more towels." She looked around, noticing Sam and Karen shivering in the corner of the room, both soaked to the skin. "We're going to need more blankets too."

Mulder hurried to the bathroom, grabbing all the thin motel towels he could find and then reached into the closet for the heavy thermal blanket. He spread the blanket and then walked over with two of the towels to give to Sam. Neither spoke, as she snatched them out of his hand.

"I'll see about getting more blankets," he muttered to no one in particular.

Dashing through puddles, he made his way to the office, only to find it locked for the night. Damn, these one-horse towns, he thought fiercely, looking around to see if he could find the manager's apartment. He noticed that the motel was mostly deserted, especially the block of rooms near his and Scully's. He ran back the way he came. Hell, I didn't want to answer a bunch of questions anyway, he thought, as he kicked in a door to an empty room. He removed the linens he needed and repeated the process in the next room. What is it with us and motel rooms, he wondered grimly? He remember the lecture he received from the finance department head after their last room was trashed in Oregon. It had been Skinner's idea of punishment. At least this bill would go on his personal charge instead of the Bureau's.

Scully was still examining Randy, probing his arm, occasionally checking his vital signs, when Mulder returned. He gave two blankets to Sam, along with an armful of towels, and then moved to talk with Scully. She had her medical bag opened on the side of the bed within easy reach. He knew from personal experience it was better stocked than most doctor's bags and that Scully started lugging it around sometime after New Mexico. She had laughingly told him she wanted to be prepared in case she ever needed to shoot him again.

"How is he?" he whispered.

"He's lost a lot of blood and I still can't guarantee that he won't go into shock. The mucosa around his nose and mouth is very irritated as well. Mulder, it's almost as if he's been burnt."

"It was probably the smoke," he replied, more to himself than in response to her observations.

"Mulder, what the hell happened?"

Mulder took a moment, staring down at the prone figure before him. Scully had the feeling he wasn't really seeing Randy.

"Our 'friends' were there. One was already dead in the living room. Another was herding the family out of another room. The house was already on fire... there was smoke..." he paused, his eyes revealing his fears at the memory. "I guess they didn't see me. I... I pulled my gun. I went through him," he pointed to Randy's arm, "to get to the bad guy. Shit, Scully, I wasn't even thinking."

Scully placed a hand on his arm to gentle him. "Mulder, you did what you had to. If you didn't shoot, they all could be dead."

"And if you'd have left us alone from the beginning, none of this would have happened," hissed Sam. She was standing behind Mulder. Scully jumped, not noticing when she had joined them.

"Sam..." Mulder started.

"Shut up! Haven't you done enough?" Sam snapped.

"That's enough," Scully said bristling. "We don't have time for this. Samantha, this may have turned out much worse if we didn't come. They knew where you were. They had your address. That's what we came to warn you about. It was only a matter of time before they would have come for you."

"So you say now, but I didn't hear anything about that this afternoon!"

Scully sighed. Nothing was going to break through this woman's anger and the young agent didn't have the energy to argue. "As I said, we don't have time for this. We've got to get Randy to a hospital."

"We can't," Mulder said, startled out of his black thoughts. "You know how easy it would be for them to get to him in a hospital."

Images of Frank Kellogg's pathetic, broken form and the assassination attempt on her own life flashed through Scully's mind. "Mulder..."

"He's right," Sam interjected. Scully looked at her in amazement before she continued. "I don't remember much but I do remember a hospital room. He can't go to a hospital."

"They can't control every hospital," Scully argued. "He needs attention that I can't give him here."

"We can't even stay here," Mulder said firmly. "There are two men dead but these bastards travel in packs. There's no way of knowing if we were followed."

"Did you see anyone?"

"Scully, these guys are invisible when they want to be, you know that. It wouldn't take much to track us. We're too vulnerable here."

"Then call Skinner. Get us some back-up. He needs to go to a hospital!"

Mulder put his hands on his partner's shoulders. "Scully, how long do you think we could keep them protected? Skinner can't help."

Scully closed her eyes in silent acknowledgment. "He'll never make it all the way back to Washington."

"We can't go there either. They'd expect us to do that."

*Mulder, it will be perfect. No one would think to look for her there. There are woods, it's quiet, so we can plan our next move...*

Melissa's voice trailed off. *No, it's too isolated. We'd be cut off from help if we needed it.* *It's a retreat house, Mulder. It's a place for meditation and spiritual growth. It's suppose to be isolated and cut off.*

It was an old argument. Close to a year ago. She'd been sick; something to do with the implant she learned later. She, Mulder, and Melissa stood in her living room, trying to think of a safe haven. A place where she could heal. She looked down at Randy and then at the brother and sister who were standing before her now, glaring at each other. There was a lot of healing needed again. Thank you, Melissa, Scully silently breathed.

"The cabin," Scully whispered. "We're not that far from the cabin."

"Cabin?" Mulder looked at her blankly.

"Melissa's cabin. They may not remember it."

Sam had crouched next to Randy, smoothing back his hair, careful not to jar his bandaged arm. "What are you talking about?"

"There's an isolated cabin about five hours drive from here. It has everything we'll need until we can figure out what to do," Scully answered. "I don't like this but Mulder's right about taking Randy to a hospital. He'd be an easy target. I think he's stable enough to travel to the cabin and I don't think they would expect us to go there. We should be safe."

Sam didn't bother asking who "they" were. "You've got to be kidding! You come barging into my life, get my home burnt down, shoot my husband... What makes you think I'll go anywhere with you?"

Mulder opened his mouth to protest but Scully's hand on his arm forestalled him.

"For one simple reason," Scully said coolly. "I'm the doctor. You can't trust anyone else for Randy's care and there's a good chance he'll die without it. You're going to have to trust us that much and that means coming with us. Understand?"

Sam scowled up at Scully, a mix of rage, frustration and defeat vying for dominance on her face. She glanced over to the chair where Karen's frightened eyes peeked out of the blankets in which she was nestled. Finally, as seconds ticked by, she gave a reluctant nod.

Scully slowly exhaled. "Fine. Mulder, start packing our things. I want to give Randy a few more minutes rest before we have to move him. I want to be sure he's stable. Bring all the blankets. We'll probably need them.

Samantha," she waited until the other woman raised her head. "I saw the back of the jeep was already packed, so I'll assume you were planning to leave."

Mulder jerked around to stare at his sister. In all the confusion, he hadn't noticed the suitcases.

"Randy... Randy argued with me but I knew we had to get away," she said, almost defiantly. "We were in the middle of packing the car when they came."

Scully walked over and looked out the room's sole window. "It's stopped raining. You and I will go out and rearrange the luggage so we can fit our things in the back. Then, I'll figure out how to position your husband so he'll be most comfortable. Let's go." She almost marched out of the door, Samantha following slowly.

Mulder followed with his eyes as the door shut. Maybe Scully would be able to bring them through this mess after all.

It flows through all things, inside and out, and returns to the origin of all things.
-Tao Te Ching

Back road, Somewhere in West Virginia. September 3, 1996
4:02 AM.

The headlights cut through the night though the darkness gave way grudgingly. There was no moon and a wispy fog lent a proper atmosphere to their getaway. That's how Mulder was thinking of it - a getaway. On the run, again, from nameless, faceless men who wanted to destroy everything he most valued. Sometimes he wondered if he'd ever get to stop running. He'd hoped that marrying Scully would have been a start. He glanced in the rearview mirror, hoping to catch her eye, to reconnect however briefly. But she was checking her patient again, fussing with the blankets which they had wrapped around him. He restrained himself from asking how Randy was doing since the mere sound of his voice sent his sister into a paroxysm of rage.

She was quiet now. She'd resisted getting into the passenger seat next to him but knew Scully could do more for Randy than she could.

Karen was tucked on her lap, sleeping.

He envied the child. Mulder knew he could run on adrenaline for days, had been doing so, but he was exhausted in body and spirit. His sister's constant antipathy was unexpectantly hurtful and draining. He needed to escape it for awhile and could think of no better place than a bed. A big bed. A big, soft bed with Scully in it...

"Look out!" Sam harshly muttered.

Her voice snapped Mulder out of the light doze he'd been drifting in to in time to brake for a deer which had crashed through the brush on the side of the road. With a nimble jump, the creature disappeared again into the night.

"Thanks," he murmured, mindful of the sleeping girl.

Sam responded with a snort and deliberately turned her head away to face the darkness.

Mulder sighed and accelerated slowly. This time, when he looked into the mirror, Scully was there - her eyes full of assurance and love.

And when she caught his searching eyes, she knew he needed her there and wanted her there. All of the self-doubting from earlier in the evening seeped out of her in an exhale.

June 29, 1996
Pennsylvania, SR 2920.

The gunfight had been chaotic and random, and when the dust finally settled, three men were in custody, two hand cuffed together and to the bridge, itself; three men lie dead in small pools of their own blood; and four or five more had run blindly in to the surrounding forest. Neither car had escaped Scully blasting holes through the tires, but at the moment Scully didn't care. After the initial round of gun play, Mulder had disappeared from her sight line.

But then things had been crazy, she rationalized. There were twice as many men as they had initially anticipated, which meant twice as many guns being wielded. Scully's eyes surveyed the dead men spotlighted by the headlights and mused how that many men could possibly fit in just two cars. There must have been another group waiting - like she and Mulder had been waiting - for their opportunity to strike.

"Mulder!" she called out, refusing to allow her panic to edge its way in to her voice. "Mulder! Where are you?"

No answer came back.

Next to her, one of the bound men hiss, "You lose your boyfriend, sweetheart? Maybe he took a bullet like my pal, Stan, over there."

His hateful chuckle was broken by the handle of her gun striking his left cheek. "Shut the hell up, asshole!" There was no confusion in her command, and the man stayed silent.

She back tracked to where she had last seen her partner and called his name again, with the same results. Her heart and mind began to race. Had one of the escaped men come across a wounded Mulder and taken him hostage? Had Mulder taken off after one of the fled men? Would he leave her? Not possible. Or was it?

Quickly, Scully ran back to their car, called for back up and grabbed the flashlight from the glove compartment. Then she began her search for her partner.

It wasn't until several police cars, and an ambulance had arrived that she found him, face down, on the bank of the dead river. He didn't move when she touched him and didn't respond to her use of his name. She checked for a pulse, holding her breath, and found a strong beat in the side of his neck. "Oh, thank God. Thank God."

Not daring to move him, for fear that he'd broken his neck or back, she called up to the road, "I've found him! I need a stretcher here!" The paramedics' response was almost immediate.

Carefully, the three workers loaded the still-unconscious Mulder on to the collapsed bed, and lifted him up the side of the river, and loaded him in to the truck. Mulder had needed medical attention, but he had been lucky that night. They both had been. She knew it in her heart. And it didn't have anything to do with reading minds, or paranormal activity. She loved him. She knew him. It was as simple as that.

September 3, 1996
A Cabin off of Grand Philmore Road
Hunket, West Virginia.

The early morning light filtered through the thick forest by the time the Jeep stopped in front of the cabin. From their approach, Scully could see that very little had changed from the last time she'd been there. Even the rusted key to the front door lay undisturbed in its hiding place in the shallow hollow of the lone hickory. "Please let this work," she half mumbled, running to unlock the door. Shards of rust stained her fingers brown as she inserted it in to the heavy lock. Just behind her, Randy's guttural groan for his daughter sent a chill down her spine.

"Karen!"

He'd been delirious for nearly half an hour, one minute calling for water to put out some imaginary fire, and the next, begging for someone to save his little girl from the flames. His fever had spiked around a hundred and five, Scully guessed. Dangerously high without the proper medication and facilities to treat it. And the worry in her gut screamed that their immediate surroundings were less than adequate.

The ancient door swung open with a groan of its own. Inside the small cabin, the air was stale and thick, the layer of dust covering everything showed it had been several months since anyone had ventured there.

"Put him in the bed in the back room," Scully instructed, before she ran back out to the car to retrieve her medical bag. But even outside she could hear Randy's fevered cries.

Between Mulder and Sam, they carried Randy's dead weight with as much care as the awkward position could allow. Karen, with her stuffed animal still clutched tightly to her body, ran ahead of them and opened the bedroom door.

"Karen! Get out of the house! Stay away from the fire, Karen!" Randy's sweat poured down his face and neck. "Karen! Can you hear daddy? Where are you, baby?"

Unsure what to do or say, the terrified little girl huddled in the doorway between the two rooms, afraid to answer. Her father had been deliriously calling for her, and no amount of persuading from her mother could convince him that she was safe.

In a sudden spasm, Randy grabbed his wife's arm, "Sam! You have to get Karen out of the fire!" His gasps and wild, dark eyes chilled Mulder to his very core. The man showed no sign of acknowledging to the undoubtable pain in his shoulder. He moved his arm as if muscle and bone were still intact. Randy's only thought, his only concern was his daughter's safety. "The fire, Sam, get out!"

"Karen's safe, Honey. Calm down." Sam's low tones were helpless in soothing her frantic husband. She ran a palm over his forehead and tried not to watch as Mulder stripped off Randy's bloodied shirt. "Honey, you have a fever," she tried to reason, "you need to relax."

Mulder couldn't suppress the wince that contorted his face. The temporary bandage that Scully had created in the car had grown layer by layer as the hours passed, as each subsequent pad had leaked through. There was no way to get the shirt completely off his shoulder and arm without cutting it, but Mulder figured at this point, who the hell cared?

He rushed in to the kitchen and slammed through the drawers looking for anything that resembled scissors.

Scully ran in, black leather bag in tow, calling to her partner as she passed him. "Mulder, boil some water for herbal tea. I know Melissa would have had some Camomile in here some place." With an elbow, she pushed Sam from the wounded man to make room for her to work. Her mind completely focused on the man in front of her. From the medical bag she

pulled a syringe and a small clear bottle and inspected the safety seals on both before ripping in to them and measuring out a dosage.

"What are you giving him?" Sam demanded from over her shoulder.

"Samantha," Scully, attempting a diversion, didn't look up from her patient, "I'm going to need some more towels and blankets."

"Answer me!" Sam's shrill scream threatened to stop Scully physically if she didn't receive an answer. And with at least half a foot advantage, she probably could.

Scully's head jerked around. "His fever is too high. We've got to bring it down or we're going to lose him. Now, I need blankets!" The threat worked like a charm, and Sam was off to the bathroom, searching feverishly for blankets and sheets.

It took only a second to swab down the inside of Randy's arm and another second for him to backhand her off her feet without even knowing she was there. Both syringe and bottle went flying, one bouncing against the wall beside her before rolling under the bed, and the other - the pointed other - embedded itself in her right thigh. "Damn!"

Mulder ran in when he heard the impact. "Scully!"

Without batting an eyelash, she yanked the needle from her leg and was on the floor to retrieve the vial. "Hold him still, Mulder, I need to set up another shot."

Sam was back by the time she was ready to inject the thrashing man, with an arm full of towels and blankets, as instructed. "Let's try this again," Scully's tight voice resonating the buzz of fear and energy in the room.

Mulder held Randy's upper body still, and Scully seemed to have his left arm fairly secure. So, Sam dropped her load, and without being asked, she grabbed her husband's legs and kept them from flailing as Scully injected the clear substance into his arm.

It took several minuted for Randy's body to begin to react to the medicine.

But, when it was all over, the other three relaxed slightly. Samantha and Scully silently pulling thick blankets tight across the patient. With one of the dampened towels in hand, a cool compress was made, and Scully handed it to the other woman. Worn out, Sam sat down next to her husband, and gently brushed the hair back from his forehead. "It's okay, honey. I'm here. Karen's here. We're safe now."

Eyes still tightly closed, Randy managed to get out a feeble, "Karen's safe?"

His tongue slurred the words. "Where's Karen?" And on cue, out from a darkened corner of the room, the teary-eyed little girl cautiously approached and put a hand on his. I'm here, Daddy."

Scully looked over the family. The three of them huddled so closely together; homeless, but alive. Randy's bandage really did need to be changed. The wound needed to be carefully inspected now that they had him stationary. But she'd give them a minute. They needed some time just to be reassured that they were all going to be okay. God, she thought, let them be okay.

She turned and saw Mulder watching her from across the living room.

Blood and sweat stained his shirt and his hair hung down over his forehead.

The dark circles under his eyes told her exactly how he was feeling. How they were both feeling.

Mulder motioned with his head, "How's the leg?"

"Leg?"

"It looked like you got the first dose of whatever it was you gave him."

"Oh. That." An absent hand went to her thigh and the tingle reestablished itself. "It's just an antibiotic to help with the fever. No real harm done."

"Penicillin?"

A small smile played over her features, and she made her way to the kitchen sink to wash her hands. "No. You're allergic to Penicillin, and I keep most of this stuff around for you."

Mulder mocked embarrassment. "Okay, Dr. Scully. Now what?"

The cold water smelled faintly of sulfur, as she splashed it liberally over her face. "Now we rest. Go ahead and make up the sofa bed, here, and I'll see if there's not some kind of sleeping bag in the shed out back."

Mulder shifted in place. "And then what?"

Scully sighed. All of the towels were in the other room with Randy, she was dripping over the sink with wet arms and face. "And then you and Sam and Karen are going to get some rest, and I'm going to change Randy's bandage and sit up most of the day with him until his fever goes down enough." She ran her hands over her pants and tried to dry her cheeks on her sleeves.

"And then?"

Scully bit the inside of her cheek. "And then we should think about some food, I guess. How stocked are the pantries?" She crossed to the other side of the kitchen table and pulled open both cabinet doors at once.

"And then?"

"And then?" Scully turned and looked at her partner, finally catching on to exactly what he was asking. "And then I don't know." She sighed at the one can of tomato soup and the unopened jar of pickled peppers that looked down at her. "But something is going to have to be done soon." She collapsed down on to the bench next to the table and sighed again. "God. How did this happen?"

Mulder turned to look in at his sister. Samantha. And her family. And then back to Scully, her head in her hands, resting over the kitchen table as if it were the only thing holding her up.

Nine Hours Later.

The late afternoon air was thick with humidity. All around the cabin, birds called out from the dense trees. And Fox Mulder heard none of it. He sat on the large dead tree that lay some twenty feet from the front of the cabin, staring off at the seemingly endless forest around him, contemplating the unbelievable situation he found himself in.

His sister slept with her daughter just on the other side of the wooden door. That concept was still hard for him to grasp. At times when he was in the room with her, he found himself stealing sideways glances just to make sure that she was still there. And she was.

Even though she didn't want to be.

That was one thing Mulder had never counted on. In all of the years he'd been looking for his sister he never once thought that she didn't want to be found. Don't all people who are abducted want to be returned? Returned to what? Ahh. That was the real question.

There was no doubt that his family basically split apart the instant Sam was taken from them, but life had never been peaches and cream for the Mulder family. Dad was always moody, and Mom ... well, she was Mom. Trying to be helpful and motherly, but never really succeeding. Mulder had always supposed that compared to other families, his wasn't so bad.

No one was ever beaten. He and his sister had their own rooms. They had plenty of toys to play with; an allowance if they did their chores. And the other stuff. The yelling late at night when the parents thought little Fox was asleep. The small nod of the head instead of a hug. The missed Little League games and forgotten birthdays and unrewarded achievements.

A full 180 degrees from Scully's upbringing.

His thought was interrupted by the opening of the cabin door and the meek exit of little Karen. Her hair was in a fresh braid, and she was sporting a fresh set of clothes. There's something right about children in cotton tee- shirts and jeans. Traditional. Comfortable. The expression on her face, however, was wary. "Why are you out here all alone?"

Mulder tried to offer her a smile. "Just thinking. Sometimes I like to sit alone and think." Karen was near the same age that Sam was when he'd last seen her. God, had they ever been that young?

Karen nodded. "Me, too."

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"Can't sleep. And the lady ... "

"Scully."

"Yeah. Scully." The words sat oddly on the little girl's lips. "She said to make sure you hadn't gotten in to trouble."

"No trouble here."

Karen ran an absent finger over her bottom lip with her left hand, and found a scratch on her left shoulder with her right. "So, are we your prisoners?"

Her simple, child-like question stopped his heart. Mulder shook his head and sighed. "No. Not at all. Is that what you think?"

She considered the man in front of her with a tilted head. "I don't know.

Mommy doesn't like you, and you shot Daddy-"

"I didn't mean to, Karen. I don't want to hurt any of you. I was afraid that those men would take you-"

"You took us."

"I was trying to help." Mulder paused at her bluntness. She had accurately assessed the situation with amazing clarity. "A long time ago, my sister was taken away from me by ... bad people. And then I found her, Karen. I found my sister. And it's been twenty-two years. So long ... " he ran a hand through his hair and rested his head against the elbows on his knees.

He debated about how much to tell the little girl. How much information was too much? "And when I saw the man, with the gun on my sister and her family ... I didn't steal you, Karen. I did what I thought I needed to do to keep you safe ... and so that I don't have to wait another twenty four years to see my sister again."

Mulder looked up at Karen. Her little freckled nose really did look like the picture of Sam he'd been carrying around for a better part of his life. Her little wisps of baby hair framing her face played in the light breeze. "You know what I think?" Mulder sat up and inhaled, preparing for the brutal honesty that only a child can give. "I think you're a lousy shot."

Mulder chortled. Brutal was right.

"But I don't think you're one of the bad men. And you're too tall to be one of the little men." She sat down beside him and, in her most adult voice, she patted his leg and explained. "Mommy will come around. She just has some issues."

"Issues?" Mulder had to work hard not to laugh aloud. "Where do you get an idea like that?"

"Oh, you know." Karen used all the authority she had in her high pitched voice, "Oprah."

Then what she said repeated in his head. "Karen, what do you mean by 'one of the little men'?"

The door to the cabin swung open again, and Sam's sudden appearance sent Karen flying to her feet. "Get in this house right now, young lady!"

The stern tone of a mother made even the agent wince. "I can't even close my eyes for a second without you running off somewhere," Without a moment's hesitation, Karen bolted for the door and disappeared inside.

"And you," she address Mulder with a bite, "I don't want you alone with my daughter."

"What?" Mulder was on his feet, indignant and wounded. "You can't possibly think - I'm not going to hurt her!"

The color in her cheeks was starting to come out, and a vein in her neck popped up. "I can think whatever I like! I know nothing about you - or your partner in there, for that matter-"

"Samantha!" Mulder's exasperation bubble up, "I'm your BROTHER."

"So you say." She turned from him and opened the door. "I say I don't have a brother. Stay away from my kid!" She disappeared from sight and Mulder just stared after her.

Was it supposed to be this hard? What was the point of finding Sam again if she was going to refuse to have anything to do with him? Mulder sighed.

His eyes and neck ached, his head throbbed, and he was starting to feel a little light headed. It was definitely not the time for him to be thinking semantics. And yet, for some reason, he couldn't seem to help himself.

Somehow he was going to have to convince the woman that not only was he her brother, but she should love him and accept him in to her life as such. No mean feat. A blood test? Matching fingerprints? And what would he tell their mother if he couldn't convince her? Could he allow her to live out the rest of her days thinking that Sam was gone forever? Or worse, that her only daughter had died all those years ago and lay in some unmarked grave? Could he do that?

It was too much. Mulder rolled his head and stretched out his shoulders as he rose from the log and made his way to the cabin.

When there is no desire, all things are at peace.
-Tao Te Ching

Scully stood against the sink when Samantha stormed back inside. She dried off her hands and watched the strange, dark woman pacing around the room. "He's not against you, you know."

"What?" Sam's head snapped to her in more of an accusation than a question.

Scully was patient, though. She knew that subtlety and tact were required if the volatile situation was ever going to be extinguished. "Mulder. He's not the enemy. You should stop blaming him.

He's not responsible for your house-"

"He shot my husband!" The fury that shot out from her mouth wasn't enough to keep Scully from defending her partner.

"Trying to save your family! And he feels as guilty as sin about it, too. Mulder is a kind-hearted man. His methods may be a little questionable, but his intent never is." Sam's anger ebbed a little as she studied Scully's features. Her mouth and eyes softened a bit and her shoulders relaxed.

Scully wasn't sure why, but she felt as though the woman was looking clear through to her soul.

Then Sam nodded, her full lips rounding around the newest of her realizations: "You're in love with him."

The statement caught her off guard, but Scully didn't take it as anything but an observation. "I am." Exhausted, Sam looked around the room before she finally decided to have a seat on one of the benches at the kitchen table.

Scully took the bench opposite her. It was time that the tension was doused with a good deal of rational talk, and while she was glad to be the peacemaker, Scully couldn't help but think that Mulder should be with her to witness it. But then, there would be time for that later. First thing, first.

"Look, he's really not asking for much. He just wants to talk; touch base.

He's been looking for you for twenty-five years. The first night on our first case, Mulder told me about you. How nothing else mattered in his life except finding his sister."

"But why?"

"I don't know. Mulder tends to take the world's blame on to his own shoulders. Maybe he was trying to make amends. Maybe he was trying to prove something to himself. Maybe he loved you. Why don't you ask him?"

Sam looked towards the door. "Why does he think I'M his sister?"

Scully bit at her upper lip. How much to tell? "We were given your address by ... a man who was working with a group who, we think, may have had something to do with your abduction."

"What? And he just gave you my address and said, here you go, Fox. There's your sister?"

"Well, not exactly. He wasn't ... Well, at least, I don't think he was a party to what the group was doing ... but even if he was, we have reason to believe that there are in fact several organizations within the group-"

"You're not making any sense."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm just not sure how to answer your question. Why don't you ask him?"

"I don't want to ask him!"

God! Scully wanted to scream. The woman was infuriating! "What are you going to do? Avoid him? Refuse to return his calls?"

With out warning the door behind Samantha gently swung on its hinges and Mulder stepped over the threshold. And stopped. The tableau of his partner and his sister sitting at the kitchen table together, talking ... it was all a little too normal. Like that two story house that had been reduced to ashes.

The two women turned to see Mulder fidgeting; not entirely sure what to do with his hands. His expression shifted from initial apprehension to disorientation to that of a nervous little boy who knew he was treading where he wasn't supposed to be. "Uh, hi."

Scully turned back to Sam and gave her a weary smile. "If you leave now, you may be able to lose him at the sofa." Then she stood and announced to the room, "I'm going to check on Randy."

Then the two of them were alone. Brother and sister. The first time since THAT night. Mulder thrust his hands in to his jeans pocket and leaned up against the wall near the stove. "You know," he began, desperate for any kind of contact at that point, "You're about Mom's height."

Sam closed her eyes and turned from him. "Stop it."

Well, that was smooth. Why don't you beat her over the head and drag her back to Chilmark by the hair? But she was, Mulder tried to defend - to himself, or the world in general, he didn't know - she WAS about his mother's height.

Pursuing that line of thought, however, was somewhat obsolete. At least at the moment. Give her time, Scully had said. Time. Geez. "So, where's Karen?"

Immediately Sam's head bounced up and looked around. "Karen?" She crossed to the bedroom and called again, "Karen? Answer Mommy."

Nothing. Accusing eyes shot back at Mulder, but the instant concern in his eyes surprised her.

"She's not outside," he said, "I was by the door the whole time."

Then a hushed voice traveled down through the rafters to them. "I'm up here, Mommy."

"Where?" All eyes scanned the wood paneled ceiling and gradually gravitated past the sleeping man in the bed, to the small ladder hidden in the farthest corner of the darkened bed room. It traveled up the wall and through a small opening that none of them could remember seeing before.

"Come up, Mommy, it's wonderful!"

Before her ascent, Sam tested her weight on the narrow, wooden ladder. It seemed solid enough, if not just a little bit dusty. But she was completely unprepared for the shimmering white light that radiated down from a small circular window in the ceiling. The dust Karen had kicked up hung lazily in the air and shimmered like fire flies in the sun's rays. And the sweet little dark haired girl sat in the center of the beam, like an angel in the lights of heaven, smiling broadly at her mother, and then at Scully as she poked her head up through the hole.

The crawl space itself was roughly half the size of the bedroom below it and no more than four feet high. Just big enough to store a decent supply of dried food and canned goods. There were several brown paper bags and a box lined neatly against the wall nearest the hole.

"Isn't it wonderful, Mommy? Like Anne Frank's secret little attic. When she was hiding from those really bad German men. Can I sleep up here? Please!"

Sam pulled her legs in to a cross and looked around, "Why do you want to do that, baby?"

"I don't know," she admitted reluctantly. "But I'll be out of your way up here, and I'll be able to see the stars, just like Anne Frank could see the top of that church from Peter's room."

Sam ran a hand through her hair. "I knew you were too young to read that book." And with a heavy sigh, she patted her leg, "Come here, baby."

When her daughter was comfortably seated in her lap she brushed the wisps of hair back from her face. "Now, Karen, I don't want you to be scared. This isn't like what happened to Anne Frank at all. We're all going to be fine."

"Oh, Mommy," she said in her most grown up voice, "I know THAT. Uncle Fox is going to take care of everything."

Once again, Sam's eyes rolled shut. "Oh, he is, is he?"

"Yep. He's going to protect us from the bad men. And the little men, too. You know he's been looking for us for a hundred years!" her voice grew in exaggeration. "Do you know how long that is? That's forever!"

Scully smiled to herself and ducked back down in to the bed room to give them some space. Well, damn it if Karen wasn't on his side, too.

Mulder certainly had a way with children. And what was that theory that no one could resist him indefinitely? Sam would have to crack, just like the rest of them. And when she did - well, they'd get to that when it came. But Scully was pretty sure she wouldn't have to wait too long.

Crossing over to Randy, who was lying as still as a stone in the bed, Scully quickly checked his temperature and pulse. Mulder, from the other side of the bed watched her with a wary eye. "Everything okay up there?"

"Just fine." Scully graced him with a small smile. "And I think our immediate food problem has been solved. There are several bags of pasta and rice and dried fruit up there. It's not Thanksgiving dinner, but we're not going to starve." With one hand she felt Randy's pulse in his wrist, the back of the other swept gently over the man's forehead, checking for fever. "And Randy's doing better," she slipped a careful hand under his shirt to check the bandage. "He should be awake and alert by morning."

"How much damage did I do?"

The heavy guilt in his lilt made her sigh. "We'll know more when he wakes up. Initially, there's going to be some loss in mobility, of course. But long term ... I'm thinking he should be pretty much okay. We'll have to wait and see what kind of nerve damage there was, if there was any."

Mulder nodded, and turned away from the man in the bed and left the room.

Karen scurried down the ladder and called up to her mother, "Okay, Mommy. I'm ready!" Then an arm reached down from the hole, and lowered a paper bag half full of food. Karen cradled the bag in her arms and ran in to the kitchen. "I'm so-o-o-o-o-o hungry!" she announced with glee. "Let's eat!"

Scully couldn't help the small chuckle that came from Karen's just being a kid. It's been a long time since she saw anyone enjoying life as much as Karen seemed to, despite everything that had happened to her in the last few days. Children were amazing that way: so full of life and love, and love of life. Karen would do them all some good.

Dinner was eaten mostly in silence; not from the tension that everyone at the table could feel, but more from hunger and exhaustion. Mulder cleared the dishes and rinsed them out, Scully pulled out their sofa bed again, and Sam helped her daughter make up a bed in the little loft. Then, just an hour after sundown, the cabin snuggled in for the night, each person in their respective beds.

Except Scully, who still sat at the foot of the pull out, her head in her hands. Mulder, already under the covers, looked over her back with concern. "You're tired," he said, "come to bed."

Scully looked up at the ceiling and inhaled deeply. "There's something that I have to tell you, Mulder. And I think I should tell you tonight, before we go to sleep." Her reasoning wasn't foolproof; in fact, she was aware that it probably came out of a completely emotional response directly linked to her lack of sleep. But she needed to tell Mulder about her conversation

with her mother. Just why, she couldn't say. But she felt a deep sense of guilt from telling her mother things that she should have been talking to him about, instead. And perhaps there was a small part of her that felt ridiculous for always running home. "Mulder, I think it's important that you know ..."

Mulder's body tensed involuntarily at the heaviness of her voice. What could she possibly have to tell him? Something that she didn't want to say, but felt she needed to, from the tone of her voice. Was she still mad at him about leaving her at the motel? How mad? Mad enough to do something drastic? "What is it?"

"Uh ..." she still kept her back to him, and she curled a lock of hair behind her ear. Just tell him, she scolded herself. Then we can both get some sleep. It's not like anything was said that shouldn't have been said. It's not like there's a big secret. Tell him you called you mother. "When you... left me, Mulder-"

"Wait." Mulder threw the covers off from his body, and scooted to the end of the bed to sit by her. "I think I know what you're going to say, and before you do, please hear me out." Without another word, she turned to him, the confused expression on her face throwing a wrench in his thought process. Maybe he didn't know what she was going to say. But, he figured, he should apologize anyway. No matter what she was going to tell him, he couldn't go wrong with an apology. Besides, she deserved one.

Like always.

Taking her hand, Mulder pulled it to his lips and kiss it gently. Where to begin? It didn't really matter, he decided. He could apologize to her indefinitely and still never make up for every injustice he committed against her. "I take you for granted, I think." His eyes slid down to her chipping nail polish. "You deserve better than that; better than my running out on you at the motel."

"Yes, I do." Her quite tone wasn't biting, but her words stung just the same.

"I love you, Scully."

Breathing heavily, she gently pulled her hand from his. "I know you do. I don't doubt that, Mulder. Even when you ditch me and run out on your own."

With a hopeful glance to her, Mulder asked, "Then I'm forgiven?"

There was a long moment where she chewed on her lower lip. The optimism Mulder had expressed just a second before quickly ebbed. Then she stated with a resigned sigh. "Aren't you always?"

"No. Apparently not."

"Look, Mulder. If you want me to say that you are forgiven for leaving me at the motel - you're forgiven. If you want me to say it's okay and that I'm not hurt by it - well, I can't do that. It always hurts when something important happens in your life and you shut me out. It hurts when you don't want me around."

"Jesus, Scully. It has nothing to do with that."

In frustration, Scully stood.

She paced the small space and leaned against the heavy wooden table. "Mulder it has everything to do with that. When it becomes inconvenient for you to have me around you try and distract me, and when that doesn't work, you leave me entirely.

"I will NEVER leave you entirely."

"I want to believe that."

"Scully, I love you. I would never leave-"

"I'm starting to think, Mulder, that the two aren't as mutually exclusive as I originally thought."

There was a moment's hesitation on Mulder's part. Was she really saying what he thought she was saying? Originally he was worried that she might've wanted to call off the wedding. But with the new information buzzing around in his head, it was starting to sound like she was calling off a hell of a lot more. "Tell me in English, Scully. Just exactly are you saying?"

For a long minute she didn't respond at all. She didn't know what she was saying. And she was afraid to open her mouth again. They were skating dangerously close to disaster, and she wasn't sure she'd be able to survive if that happened. How had this come up, anyway? She was just going to admit to him that she told her mother not to re-book the church. Now it was sounding like everything was at stake. Their relationship, their partnership. All of the fears that she'd admitted to her mother ... The knot that swelled in her stomach fought to stream down her face, but she closed her eyes to it, and tightened her grip on the table behind her.

Mulder, however was two steps beyond the fear stage and well into panic.

Was she trying to tell him that it wasn't working out? Was she saying good-bye? Impossible! Or was it? They had no idea how long they were going to have to be on the run. Was she bailing out? Not HIS Scully. But then, he remembered, she wasn't exactly HIS. "Scully?" Mulder prodded, "if this is about the wedding, as soon as we get back-"

"Back? How soon is THAT going to be, Mulder?" She couldn't help herself. The words were tumbling out of her mouth faster than she could edit them. "As soon as the shadow men in their shadow government stop hunting us down? And even if, for some bizarre reason they suddenly weren't interested in us anymore, we're AWOL, Mulder!"

"No, we're not! Don't you remember? We're on our honeymoon. We have another week before we have to be back to work."

"Oh, that's right," sarcasm dripped from her lips, "our honeymoon." And there they were, back at the heart of the matter: The Wedding That Never Was. It was odd how entire chunks of her life could fit so easily under an umbrella title. Pre-Mulder, Post-Mulder, The Abduction, The Illness, The Engagement, The Wedding That Never Was. "Look, Mulder," she started again, clearing her head back to her original reason for their little talk.

"Let me just say this so we can get some sleep. We're both exhausted. I'm so tired ..."

She looked up to see the fear of a marked man staring intently at her. His body remain immobile, even with the pounding vein running over his forehead pulsing a steady beat. "When you left the motel ... I was upset-"

"And you had every right to be."

"I know. That's not the point I'm trying to make." She crossed her arms in front of her, and rested her chin on her chest. "Just let me tell you this, so we can get some rest, okay?" The snap in her voice closed his mouth, and he sat, as she'd asked and braced himself for the worst. "Before I knew what was happening ... with your sister and the shadow men ... I made a phone call." There was an uneasy silence in the room. "I called my mother."

His question was delayed by the unanticipated statement. Was that all?

Was that the dreaded admission? "How is she?"

"She wanted to know if she should reschedule the church for the wedding."

Mulder sat back in the bed, his head hitting the back of the sofa. So that WAS it. "I guess, by the lack of eye contact, that you told her no."

She defiantly met his gaze and held it. "I didn't know what to tell her. I keep thinking that maybe ..."

"It's okay, Scully." He couldn't keep the pain from his voice, but he held out a hand to her and silently begged her to take it. And reluctantly, she did. "It's okay to be scared. And we don't have to get married, if you don't want to-"

"Me?" She pulled back a little. "I was worried about you. That the vows would be, well, not what you wanted to commit to. 'For better or worse' - "

"'Til death do us part, Scully. I'm already committed. I can't promise you that I won't freak out from time to time, but you're stuck with me until I finally keel over. Married or not, I love you." He pulled her close, and she allowed him to wrap his arms around her shoulders. "And you love me.

There is nothing else."

Shutting her eyes around his last statement, she laid her head on the firmness of his chest. "At this moment, Fox, I believe ... that love is enough."

"Then, Dana, you will never be wanting."

Rushing into action, you fail.
Trying to grasp things, you lose them.
Forcing a project to completion,
you ruin what was almost ripe.
-Tao Te Ching

September 4, 1996
The Cabin.

As Mulder slowly drifted up from a hazy sleep, the comfortable realization that he lay on his right side, snugly spooned by the love of his life gave him the necessary boost to pull him in to complete consciousness. He looked down to see her left arm draped delicately over his midsection, much the way it had hung limp off the hammock on a quiet afternoon. That had been the day that he realized that Dana Katherine Scully was in love with him.

The warm buzz from that cherished memory flooded his body.

A sleepy hand made its way to hers and slowly ran along the soft arm that held him. She stirred behind him, burrowing her head deeper between his body and the thin mattress. Her fingers ran gently over his clothed stomach before relaxing again. It was moments like these that he lived for.

SMACK!

The bedroom door opened with a bang; the wooden frame having shifted in the coolness of the night causing the door to stick. The noise set off a trained reflex in Scully, but luckily Mulder anticipated her move and rolled over her to grab her wrist before she reached the gun on the floor beside the sofa bed. Pulling a gun on Karen would NOT make for a wonderful way to start the morning.

In bounced the little girl, hair still stringy from sleep, nightshirt a mass of wrinkles, her beaming face looking as if it were Christmas morning.

"Hello, Uncle Fox!" She climbed up on to the bed beside him before he and Scully had a chance to catch their breath. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Not as good as you, from the look of you. How was your bed?"

"I can see thirteen stars outside my window! And this morning, the water on the glass made little rainbows all over everything!

I love this place! I think it's magical." She leapt off the mattress and landed squarely on the wood paneled floor. Quickly surveying the lack of cooking happening in the kitchen, she turned back to the two adults lying or rather, trying to sit up and demanded, "So who's making breakfast? I'm starving!"

With Scully's hair running every which way, she allowed for a mammoth yawn before kicking the covers aside. "What time is it, anyway?"

Samantha emerged from the back room with an apologetic smile, "Around eight, I think. To Karen's credit, she's been keeping herself entertained since dawn." Her night shirt hung down past her mid thighs and she pulled a red sweater up over her shoulders to ward off the chill.

"I should check on Randy, anyway," Scully headed past the taller woman, but was abruptly stopped by a hand from Samantha.

"He's in the bathroom." She pulled her arm back, not the least bit embarrassed at the protective nature of her last move. "He's feeling much better. Sore and tired, but his fever is gone and he was able to get out of bed on his own."

"That's gotta be a good sign." Mulder murmured under his breath, the palm of his hands rubbing at his sleepy eyes. "Maybe he'll feel well enough to eat something." Mulder looked from his sister, and followed her glaring gaze to Scully.

Something was going on between the two of them; something definitely female, and vaguely territorial. The only women that Mulder actually saw Scully interact with were people connected to their cases and her family. It was true that she didn't have many women friends. Well, friends that he knew about. Mulder found the new side of Scully fascinating to watch.

Without even noticing it, Scully ran a hand through her hair and took a step back from Samantha. "I'll fix something for us to eat," she mumbled.

Samantha backed away, too. Just a step, but Mulder caught the gesture as if it were highlighted with fusca neon lights. "I'll check and see if he's up to eating." She quickly ducked back in to the room and the tension in the room dropped back down to normal levels.

"What was all that about?" Scully was annoyed by the smirk on Mulder's face.

"What was what about?"

Could she really be oblivious? Or was she just not ready to deal with it?

After all, they all HAD just woken up. He'd leave it alone. Maybe it was nothing more than what it had been: a prolonged glance between two people who were practically strangers.

Anyway, his stomach was rumbling. "So, where can we get some eggs and bacon?"

Several hours later.

Outside the cabin, Mulder found Samantha sitting on the log, much as he had done the previous day. She looked up when she heard him coming, and offered a small smile. "This place is beautiful, if nothing else."

"Yeah, well, if you like peace and quiet." It was a feeble attempt at humor, but an attempt all the same. "Can we talk?"

He could feel her body tensing next to him, and her shoulders rose half an inch. "Uh ... what about?"

"What do you mean, what about? About why I came to find you in the first place. About what you remember."

"I don't remember anything."

Well, this wasn't getting him anywhere fast. Should he push her? Would she clam up all together? "So you've said. But I think you remember more than you're letting on."

"Why are you here? Why after all this time?"

"It's not like I've been partying, Sam, I've been looking for you. The moment I got your address, I got Scully and we headed straight for you. Christ, I even took her from her own bachelorette party." Sam's eyes shot to his, surprise stared up at him. Mulder shrugged it away. "So, she'll have another. I do intend on marrying her, you know."

"Good. She's ... she'll make you happy, I think."

"She does." Mulder took a moment for the thoughts to mature before he sprang the next bombshell on his sister. "I'd like, when we do get married, for you to ... stand by my side and be my best ... sister."

Sam's eyes rolled to the heavens, "This is a bit ridiculous, don't you think. I mean, we don't really know if I'm your sister."

Mulder was confident in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. "You are."

"Says an address on a piece of paper."

"Says me. And says you, I think. You remember, Sam. I know you do."

"You don't know anything!" She balled her fists. "I refuse to talk about this with you."

"Then let's talk about something else. Something safe." She shook her head but the beating heart in his chest told him not to give up on her so quickly. "Please. Anything you like. The weather, Karen, music, anything. Maybe you have some questions for me. What can I tell you?" He ran a hand through his hair and skimmed through all the things he always promised himself that he'd tell her once he found Sam again. "How did you meet Randy?"

"How did you meet Dana?"

Mulder laughed. "Touche. She was sent to be my partner and debunk the work I did on the X-Files."

"He was a graduate student who came in to the cafe that I worked in at college."

"We worked well as a team, and she didn't do a lot of debunking."

"He ordered a lot of tuna melts, and I did a lot of serving."

They both laughed. "Come on," Sam motioned towards the cabin, "let's go in an see how Dana is making out."

And inside they went. Mulder felt like he'd tackled a real hurdle in getting her to laugh. The girlish chuckle that he'd remembered so vividly as a boy was now a womanly tittle, but the heart was the same. The soul.

Inside, Scully sat at the kitchen table, Mulder's billfold in her hands, counting out bills. "Well, with the four of us together, we have a grand total of $379. That's not bad, but if we're going to have to buy gas and food for five on that, it's not going to last us long."

Sam, from the sofa, hugged a small throw pillow to her chest. All of our bank cards and checks are gone."

"It doesn't matter," Mulder cut her off, "you can't touch your bank account. They monitor those things." He sat opposite his partner, with his back to the table. Karen sat on the orange shag rug at his feet.

"Can't you get money?" She look up at him, her big blue eyes brimming with admiration, "From the government?"

"Not this time, I'm afraid." Over his shoulder, Mulder asked, "The Gunmen?"

Scully shrugged. "At this point, I'm even thinking Skinner."

"You're kidding."

With a sigh, Scully switched in to rational mode. "Look, Mulder, we're not going anywhere on this." She dropped the money on the table in front of him. "And frankly, I don't know WHERE it is we're supposed to go."

"We need a safe house or something."

"For how long?" Her lips pursed in momentary consternation. "How long do you plan on living on the run?"

Mulder turned from her and sank back in to the thick wood behind him.

She was right. Of course. They had to DO something. Running wasn't going to get them anywhere.

From the couch, Sam's maternal tones filled the room. "Karen, sweetie, why don't you go and tell Daddy a story."

The precocious child's eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

Sam's face broke in to a prideful smile. "Yes, I am. Now go check on your father."

With a groan of protest, she marched from the room and bounced on to the bed with her father. "Hello, Daddy!" They heard her say, "I'm here to keep you company."

Then Sam sat forward. "Look," she addressed both Mulder and Scully, "I don't want you to take this the wrong way actually, I don't really care how you take it but I refuse to play these cat and mouse games. These people never bothered us before you showed up, so if you'll leave us to go our merry way "

"They won't leave you alone." Mulder's voice was low and steady.

"They'll find you, no matter where you go."

"Well," Sam stood, her hands fisted on her hips, "if that's the case, it doesn't really matter, does it?"

Mulder wasn't about to give in. "They've taken you before, they'll take you again."

"So you've said. I guess I'll just have to take that risk."

Mulder's eyes bore in to hers, "Are you willing to risk Karen, too?"

Sam started, taken aback. "Karen?" And a second later she composed herself. "You don't know what you're talking about. You're trying to scare me."

"Yes, I am," Mulder admitted without hesitation, " but I DO know what I'm talking about. Karen mentioned 'the bad men'. Has she talked about them before?" Sam's look of horror told him she had. "Men in black, or little men in grey coming in to her room. Did she tell you that? Did you know it was happening?"

"NO!" Sam gasped, "She didn't ... she had nightmares, that's all. All little kids have nightmares." Her head shook fiercely. "No, you're trying to scare me."

"Does she have the scar, Sam?" Behind him, Scully's eyes widened at his allegations. "At the base of her neck, or on her belly? Did she tell you about the lights?"

"Lights? Wait a minute ... little grey men? Are you ... What are you saying? Are you hinting that my daughter was abducted by aliens?!"

"I'm asking if she ever told you about them. If you knew it was happening."

"YOU'RE INSANE!" And with that the conversation ended. Sam stormed out the door, and Mulder slammed his fist into the table.

And immediately regretted it.

"Damn!" Scully was at his side in a second to assess the damages. All she needed now was Mulder with a broken hand and Sam thinking he was more of a looney than before. But he pushed her away, his anger still too fresh to deal with his physical pain. "Damn it, Scully. She knew!"

Leaning against the wall, she gave him the space he needed. "I don't think she knew, Mulder, anymore than you do. So a kid says she saw men. My nephew says he sees Santa Claus. That doesn't mean Santa's real."

He headed for the door, "I've got to talk to her."

"No!" She caught his arm. "Give her a chance to process what you've been telling her."

"I'm going to finish this, Scully!" His eyes were wild with passion.

And Scully's eyes matched his, emotion for emotion. "Don't argue with me, Mulder. You can't afford to have everyone against you! Take some money. Go down to the store "

"No, Scully."

" get some milk or bread or something. I don't care. Just take a few minutes to relax. Think things through a little more."

"We can't afford to waste."

"At this point, Mulder, it doesn't really matter. What we can't afford is for all of these emotions that you've been bottling up inside of you for decades to come crashing out and destroy any possibility of a relationship that you might have with your sister."

What she said made sense, Mulder decided. Well, of course it did. Damn it. She did it again! "Okay. Okay, I'll get some bread. Fine."

"Thank you." On tiptoes, she reached up and kissed his cheek. "This is going to be okay, Mulder, if we all can keep our heads."

He nodded, not knowing what else to do, and set out on his quest for the loaf of white bread. Or maybe a nice rye.

"Bread," Mulder repeated silently to himself as he slowly maneuvered the jeep down the steep, curving roadway cut into the mountainside. "And milk. Karen needs milk. Maybe I should pick up some cookies as well. What's the point of milk if you don't have cookies to go with it?" He found himself smiling when he thought about her upturned nose and quick mouth. Shit, how did I get to be Uncle Fox? Assuming Sam would let him *be* Uncle Fox.

His smile turned into a frown as he replayed their last fight. She remembers, he thought fiercely. She may not remember everything but she remembers more than she's letting on. And she knows about Karen. Some part of her had to know. Why was she still fighting him on this? He wasn't twelve anymore. He could protect her and Karen. Couldn't he? Unbidden images of Scully's pale face, tubes helping her breath, blocked out the sun dappled road until he banged his hand hard on the steering wheel. The pain helped him focus. He had to stop this. He'd find a way to salvage this. He had to.

He slowed to a stop as he reached the end of the cabin's cut off. Another turn and he'd be on a road that actually showed up on the map. The small general store was across the way, another hundred yards to the right. Mulder wasn't expecting trouble but the jeep might be recognized by the local police. He had no doubt that someone was on the lookout for their car. Exiting the vehicle, he made his way parallel to the ditch lining both sides of the street, keeping wellwithin the concealing foliage.

Shit! Fuck! He pulled back further, hiding behind a large tree. Peering around slowly, Mulder studied the movement of dark sedans and army trucks as they pulled into the store's parking lot. It looked like a staging area for a fucking allout assault. Several more cars were heading in their direction. Mulder didn't wait to see their passengers debark. Heart in his throat, he ran back to the jeep.

Confront the difficult
while it is still easy;
accomplish the great task
by a series of small acts.
-Tao Te Ching

"Where'd Uncle Fox go?" Karen's voice cut through the tension which had hung like a pall over the cabin since Mulder's exit.

"He went to get some bread," Scully answered. She couldn't help but notice Sam's flinch at the sound of her brother's name. Alleged brother, Scully corrected herself firmly. We still don't know anything for sure.

"Good. I like bread," Karen replied, oblivious to the currents flowing around the room. "I found some wild parsley and onions just like you showed me at home, Mommy. Can we cook them in dinner tonight?" She held up a grubby hand full of greens.

Sam's head snapped up. "Karen, what have I told you about wandering away? You're to stay near the cabin!"

"But, Mom, I didn't go very far. I wanted to get them for Uncle Fox."

"Stop it! Stop calling him that!" Sam hissed. "He's not your uncle!"

Karen took a step back from her mother's sudden outburst. She slowly lowered her new-found treasure as her eyes brimmed with tears.

"Sam..." Scully started.

"You stay out of this! I've had it up to here! He's not my brother and he's not her uncle!"

"Samantha!" Randy stood by the doorway leading to the bedroom where he had been resting. His tone was stronger than it had been in the last couple of days, testimony to his returning strength. "That's enough!"

"Randy, don't you start."

"I said, that's enough! Whatever Agent Mulder is to you, he got us out of that house and away from those bastards!"

"And shot you in the process."

"Let it go. We're alive. That's all that matters. There's no reason to keep sniping at him and taking it out on Karen." He walked over to where she was standing, still clutching her herbs. Placing his hand on her head, Randy seated himself on a bench. "Come on, honey. Show me whatcha got."

Scully watched as Sam struggled to regain her composure. Her compassion for the woman's situation warred with her growing irritation over Samantha's recalcitrance. And something more, though Scully was loathe to identify it, even to herself.

"Listen to me Karen," Randy continued after examining the greenery. "It's important that you stay right here, close to the cabin. These aren't like the woods near home. You don't know what's out there, okay?"

Karen nodded, sagely. "There might be lions out there."

Randy gave a small chuckle. "That's right, honey. There might be lions."

"Daddy? Do you think there might be bad men out there? They aren't going to take me away again, are they, Daddy?"

Scully felt her world tip over. Her arms ached to hug the child to her, to keep her safe, even as her fingers itched to examine her for scars. Oh God, no! Nonononono, her mind screamed. Bright lights and masked figures. Pain. Other beings in the background, never quite seen but felt. Garbled voices which only added to the terror. Nononononono.....

"What do you mean, honey?" Randy asked softly, though his eyes were locked onto the pale, frozen countenance of his wife.

Mulder's entrance through the door prevented her answering. "We've got to get out of here! Now!"

With the small fragment of his mind that wasn't occupied with moving three adults as quickly as possible to the waiting jeep, Mulder wondered why everyone always asked the same questions at times like this. 'What's going on' and 'what's happening'. He grabbed Karen, physically carrying her, knowing that Sam and the others would automatically follow. It would save a lot of arguing this way. Still, Sam was shrieking about leaving their stuff behind.

"Mulder, stop! What's going on?" Scully demanded. She continued moving, however, already guessing what he would answer.

"There's an army waiting for us at the bottom of the hill but I don't think they're going to wait much longer. We need to get out of here now."

"How did they find us?"

"I don't know. Maybe they guessed. I don't want to stay here and confirm their suspicions, however." He dumped Karen in the backseat, before turning to face her mother. Without waiting for her to draw breath, he jumped into his instructions. "Get in and hold Karen down. Brace yourself in. This is going to get rough."

Maybe it was something in his eyes, maybe it was her own sense of survival and the need to protect her child - Mulder was never sure which - but Sam climbed into the jeep without further argument. Randy was right behind her.

Scully got into the front seat and drew her gun. God knew she didn't know what she planned to do with it but she wanted to be sure it was ready, just in case. "Mulder, how are we going to get passed these guys? There's only one road down from here."

"I guess we're about to see if these Jeeps really are 'The only one.'"

He took one final look in the backseat to be sure that his sister's

family was as secure as possible and then threw the car in gear.

Dirt flew up behind them as the tires gripped the path, partially obscuring their view of the cabin. Scully glanced back and mentally vowed to come back and restore it to its former order as soon as all this was over. She owed it to Missy's memory.

"Mulder, this isn't Puerto Rico. These woods are solid with trees. How are you going to get down this mountain?" Scully asked, almost having to yell to be heard over the noise of the gunned engine and wind.

"I saw a dry stream bed on my way back up. That's going to have to do."

"But you don't know where that will lead us to. There are dozens of those stream beds up here. Most of them just stop when the water goes underground."

"Scully, we don't have time to debate this." He effectively ended the discussion by making a hard left and turned off the road.

Refusing to brake, he compromised with the physics of gravity by downshifting and hoped for the best. Branches slapped at the windshield as the jeep leapt over small bushes. Scully banged her head against the roof once after a particularly nasty jolt which almost overturned them and she tried to look in the backseat to see what damage was being done to their passengers. All she could see was bodies tangled together, each one trying to anchor the others to the seat. Randy's arm was bleeding again but there was nothing she could do about it now.

A small scream escaped her as Mulder swerved to avoid a rock outcropping, throwing them all to one side of the vehicle. Sweat broke out on her forehead and she could hear Mulder breathing hard. The world flew by, a green and brown blur of rushing sound. Light and dark merged as they passed through the shady forest. And still down they went, following a path that wasn't really there.

"Get down!" Mulder ordered, pushing her head to his lap, hunching over her as best he could, as he steered the Jeep between two large oaks. The sound of metal scraping ground Scully's rapidly fraying nerves.

She had lost all sense of direction by this point but hoped they were angling far enough down the mountain that they could bypass the troops sent to find them. God knew it would be easy enough to figure out which way they had gone seeing the damage they were causing to the surrounding trees.

"Mulder, what if there are road blocks?" she gasped out.

He grunted but didn't answer her directly. Just keeping the jeep with most of its wheels on the ground at any given moment was taking most of his concentration.

Finally, he saw a break in the undergrowth and what looked like asphalt. Now if only they were far enough down the highway... Mulder remembered the ditch he saw earlier but didn't have time to avoid it. "Hold on!" he yelled as the jeep took one last bounce before spinning out onto the roadway. There was no sign of any pursuit.

"Everybody okay?" he asked, not really ready for an answer. "Randy, how's the arm?" He'd noticed the blood when he looked in the mirror.

"Just keep going. We may be out of the woods but I don't think those fellows are going to give up so easy," came the reply.

"I think we'll be okay if we put enough distance between us now."

"You don't think they've notified the locals?" Scully asked, still scanning the area for signs of trouble.

"These guys work alone. They can't set up roadblocks in daylight. It'd draw too much attention to themselves."

"And a mass gathering at a general store is inconspicuous?" Scully responded skeptically.

"I'd bet they had a good cover story for that. Notifying the cops though is another matter. I don't think we'll have any trouble between here and Washington."

"Washington?" Scully and Sam asked simultaneously.

"Scully, we're out of options. We've got to get help on this."

Scully bit her lip nervously, knowing he was right but wondering what "help" he was referring to. "Skinner?"

Mulder shrugged. "Maybe. But we need to find out what's going on first, what he's been told."

"We can't go back to the apartments," Scully said, thinking out loud.

"What are you talking about? We can't go to Washington!" Sam complained as she tried to tighten Randy's bandage.

"We don't have a choice!" Mulder responded in kind, more sharply than he intended. He turned back to his partner. "The apartments are probably

being watched. They won't be safe."

"Where then?"

"You're not going to like this, Scully, but I don't think we have any other options."

She looked at him in confusion until she noticed his lopsided grin. "Oh, Mulder, not..."

He nodded. "It'll be okay," he assured her as he stepped on the gas, following signs for the interstate.

September 5, 1996
1:04 AM. LGM Office.

"Mulder!" Langly's voice broke in surprise as he opened the door to the Gunmen's latest office and stepped back to allow everyone to enter.

"Boys," Mulder nodded to the others to include them in his greeting.

"It's good to see you, buckaroo," Frohike said as he got up from his desk, ignoring the flow of data that was streaming across his computer monitor. He limped over to shake hands with the two young agents and then looked questioningly at Sam and her family. "We were starting to get a little worried."

"What've you been hearing?"

"Only that a small motel, in a remote part of Kentucky, was ransacked for no apparent reason and that two of the occupants left under mysterious circumstances. The police found towels covered with blood, though testing revealed that it did not match that of a pair of rogue FBI agents, reportedly seen in the area," Byers said as he came in from the back room.

"I'm assuming this is the source of the blood?" He looked pointedly at Randy's blood soaked sleeve.

"You assume correctly. I suppose it's too much to hope that you have a first aid kit here?" Scully said, pulling off her jacket and moving Randy into the nearest seat.

"I'll get it," volunteered Langly.

His bruises had finally healed, Scully noted clinically, studying the young man as he left to fetch the supplies. She involuntarily recalled the message waiting for them in their email that Easter Monday morning after they returned from Seattle. Van wrecked while driving back; Frohike's leg broken; Langly in the hospital with severe head trauma; a *certain* copy book missing. Byers, who had stayed behind to tend to "business" for a few additional days and was planning on flying to Washington later, had heard the news on his portable police scanner. He started the process of damage control, figuring that they had been made by the bad guys, and moved their equipment to a new office. He'd also been the one to notify the agents that their hard evidence was missing as well as the copy which had been sent to MIT. The only thing left was a crumpled napkin that Mulder had shoved into his pocket. So far it had revealed nothing that might hint at what Amber had been trying to tell them. There simply wasn't enough information to work with.

"Is there somewhere I can work on Randy's arm? I want to make sure we didn't do any more damage during that ride down the mountain." Scully moved closer to her patient, earning an angry look from Sam. Scully ignored it. If she still wanted to crucify them, there was nothing more Scully could do.

"Right back here," offered Frohike as he opened a door at the rear of the room. "There's a couple of cots if you want to crash and the bathroom's through there."

Scully nodded, herding Randy and the rest of his family towards the back, grabbing the kit from a returning Langly. If nothing else, she was grateful for their restraint in not asking a lot of questions. She'd leave that for Mulder, she thought wearily, knowing she had her own battle to fight with Sam.

"So what gives?" asked Byers as the door shut behind Scully's retreating figure.

"Can we just leave it that they're friends, running from the bad guys and we need your help?" Mulder collapsed in the nearest chair and instantly had to

right himself as it tilted alarmingly to one side. He threw a disgusted look at Byers who snickered.

"Whatever you say, Mulder. What can we do for you?"

"Mi casa, es su casa," added Frohike for good measure.

Mulder relaxed slightly. Whatever else they might be, he was finally among friends. "Food for starts. It was a long drive back and I didn't want to risk stopping."

"Done," said Langly, reaching for the phone.

"What else have you heard?"

"Nothing much. There's been an unusual amount of troop movement from a base in southern Virginia, heading west. We figured they were going in your general direction." Byers went and fetched a map from one of the more cluttered desktops.

"There was a fire at NIH," Langly continued with the briefing. "Burned one of the buildings to the ground, despite a pretty quick response from the local fire department. The official story is the building housed some flammable chemicals that must of leaked and that's what cause such an intense fire. Funny thing is, I have a friend that told me the building was unoccupied but very hands off. Tight security. Why all the fuss for a storage facility?" Langly asked clearly skeptical with the "official" explanation.

Mulder nodded, leaning his elbows carefully against the nearby desk, and placing his head in his hands. Moore knew. He'd told them that the project was getting too big to be contained at NIH for much longer. With his defection, Mulder assumed the players involved in all this were afraid of a security leak and destroyed the evidence by their favorite method - fire. God, this was so frustrating! Always three steps behind these bastards!

"Anything else?" he asked without taking his hands from his face. He really didn't want an answer but had to ask the question anyway.

The three men glanced at each other before Frohike spoke quietly, "After we heard about your disappearance, we went over to Agent Scully's mother's house. Just to be sure she was okay, you know?"

Mulder's head came up as looked around him in disbelief. "You went to... how is she?" Mulder didn't want to think about what Margaret Scully had been going through. First the wedding, or rather lack of wedding, and then their leaving. Scully did call her, he knew, but one quick call wasn't really enough, was it? And his own mother... what was he going to tell her about all this?

"She seemed okay. She had some people over so we didn't stay long," Frohike explained. "She invited us in when we said we were friends of yours."

"Yeah, Mulder, I'd worry about that if I were you," Langly smirked. "She didn't even bat an eye."

"Who didn't bat an eye?" asked Scully as she slipped in the room. She shut the door quietly behind her.

"Seems the boys went to see your mom," Mulder said, as matter-of-factly as he could. The picture of these three sipping tea with Scully's mom was almost enough to send him over the edge.

Scully blinked.

"She's a real nice lady," supplied Frohike, even as he edged away from her. There was still the little matter of a certain video tape, after all, and he didn't want to take any chances.

"Scully," Mulder said softly, reaching for her as he stood and moved away from the audience, "I think you should go to your Mom's. Make sure she's alright."

"So you can ditch me again?" she asked, half in jest. Her smile faded as she noticed the expression on his face. "You *were* going to ditch me! I don't believe this!" Scully, hands on her hips turned from him and tried to dissipate the anger bubbling up in her.

"I have to get Sam and her family away from here and I don't know how long that's going to take. I can't ask you to go with us. You'd be jeopardizing your career, the rest of your life. We could be on the run for a long time." The words tumbled over themselves until he finally looked up to see the steely expression on her face.

Her lips were pinched so tightly their color bled away. With sarcasm dripping from her voice, she baited him. "I suppose you're going to tell me that since you don't know when we'll see each other again, I shouldn't wait for you and when I meet some guy who treats me right-"

"Scully-"

"Cut the dramatics, Mulder! You are not leaving me again. Understand? Now, let's get something to eat and then think this through." She left him standing in the corner, his mouth half open in surprise and grudging admiration.

Can you remain unmoving
till the right action arises by itself?
-Tao Te Ching

"You're sure you want to do this?" Mulder asked Byers for the third time. He didn't like this scenario but they had run out of options.

"We know that these guys would probably recognize Langly and Frohike from the *accident*. I'm the only one who can get into your apartment without being spotted right away." He straightened his tie in the mirror before heading for the door. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"No. But I can't think of anything else to do. We need his help for this, so we've got to let him know I want a meet."

Scully bit her upper lip as she stared at the equipment surrounding her without really seeing it. She was feeling a little better, now that she had changed her clothes, borrowing an outfit from the ever-helpful Frohike, and had had something to eat. She tugged at the oversized pants, trying to tighten the belt another notch, relieved that Mulder's sister and her family had fallen asleep in the back room. She wasn't feeling good about this plan to contact Deep Throat's successor, however. He'd helped them in the past but always for his own agenda and always with an attitude. She couldn't trust him and it didn't help her confidence that her partner didn't really trust him either. But he was right. They had run out of ideas.

The snap of the door's closing behind Byers brought her back to the present. Catching Mulder's eye was enough to bring him to her. "You don't like this," he said as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm not sure what you're hoping to accomplish by this."

"I'm not either but I guess we'll find out."

It was dark. Most of these meetings were always in the dark, Mulder realized as he paced by the empty play ground. It was ironic that this emergency meeting site was a place so alive during the light of day and so dead as soon as the sun went down. So like his life until recently. Until he found Scully...

August 2, 1996
6:07 PM

It had been a lousy end to a lousy week, and Mulder was looking forward to going back to his small, shabby apartment and turning on the Sci-fi channel, and not moving from his couch for the entire weekend. After the mutant-serial killing- soda jerk had not only escaped his arraignment without incident but somehow managed to vanish from the face of the Earth in the process, Mulder was just going to need some time to himself. He wanted to be alone. To relax and enjoy the controlled quiet of nothing happening around him. Of course, Scully had suggested that they go away together for the weekend. Since everyone knew about their upcoming marriage there was no need to sneak around, and they could enjoy each other's company at some small bed and breakfast in Massachusetts somewhere.

But Mulder shook his head. "That sounds great, Scully, but I'm really wanting to go home and crash for a few days." She collected a file from his desk and leafed through it before extracting two pages from the autopsy report and placing them in her briefcase. "That sounds good. You want me to pick up a movie or two? Maybe some chicken?" Taking her hands from their busy work of packing up for the night, Mulder pulled her to him in an uncharacteristically sensual way. At least uncharacteristic for office behavior. At home how they related to each other was more or less how any couple in love might act. Touching, quick kisses in passing, long love making sessions, cuddling, fighting, laughing. But never at the office. Never when their jobs were pushed to the front. He cradled her hands and raised her smooth knuckles to his lips and kissed them chastely. "Scully ... Dana. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I need some time alone. I just want to lie on my sofa and do nothing." She took a moment and searched his eyes, but found nothing but honesty and a little guilt. "You want to go home alone?" He nodded and focused his eyes down on her hands. Her perfect, flawless hands. How did women have such beautiful hands? "It's not that I don't want you to come home with me -"

"No," she shook her head resolutely, and offered him a hint of a smile. "I think it's a good idea. We've been spending a hell of a

lot of time together lately. More than I think may be good for us." Mulder took her cue with a shocked glance up at her face, "You think it's bad for us?" Again, she shook her head, this time lifting a finger to the locks

that had fallen haphazardly on to his face. "I just mean that, well, we see each other nearly every waking - and not waking - moment. You need some time alone. So do I." She pulled from his embrace and grabbed the handle of her briefcase and planted a firm, quick kiss on his lips. And smiled. Very unprofessional. "Go home, Mulder. If you need me, or if I need you, we know how to get in touch." He nodded absently thinking he got off the hook on that one much easier than he'd expected. Then she was out the door, and he was alone. And the silence of the basement office at 6:15 PM on a Friday night in August was nearly enough to drive him mad. So, after running a quick check of his e-mail, he shut down the computer, pulled a few files into his arms, turned and clicked off the light.

And then clicked it back on again. What was he doing? Taking work home with him? Again? No. Not this time. He dropped the files in the chair next to the door, and locked the office. And on his trip out to the car, he planned his evening. "Gotta pick up dinner," he told himself, "and some toilet paper, and some juice." The mental checklist he created dictated at least three stops he was going to have to make. Unless he went to the grocery store, and actually COOK dinner instead of getting something to go. And he could live without videos, he decided. The kind they had at the supermarket were more Scully's speed than his, anyway. And of course, that lead to thoughts of her and what she might be doing. "I should call her tonight," he sighed, "just to wish her a good sleep." Deciding that that WAS, in fact, what he was going to do, Mulder unlocked his car, and set off on his weekend. When he arrived back at his bachelor pad, a small note was hanging from his door. Scully, he thought with a smile on his lips, as his eyes surveyed the familiar script: Mulder - Thought you might enjoy a real dinner instead of that frozen stuff I know you were planning on eating. Enjoy your weekend. Love, Dana

He tucked the note in to his shirt pocket and unlocked his door. And immediately his senses were overcome by the most extraordinary aroma of baked lasagna. Mulder's stomach rumbled in response. "Scully," he mumbled, "why are you so good to me?" Slipping off his shoes, and throwing the bag in his arms on to the small wooden chair, he gasped as he entered his small, brick-lined kitchen. On the oak table rested not only a place setting for one, not only the still-pipping hot lasagna and a small caesar salad, NOT ONLY a six pack of Samuel Adams, but also a large arrangement of wild flowers with every shape and hue of the rainbow represented. Next to a perfect white daisy, he found the small card. "Sweet dreams, my love" How the hell had she made it to his place and set this up before he'd had a chance to get there?

Twenty minutes later Mulder was in front of her apartment, the dinner in his hands, and love swelling in his eyes. He knocked tentatively at first, knowing once he was there he probably wasn't going to be leaving, and the desire to spend some time alone had been an honest one. If she'd hadn't left the flowers, maybe then he would've made it through. But then, wasn't that her intention all along? To lure him back to her place, and then lock him inside for their two days off? Mulder grinned wickedly, until he heard the familiar voice.

"Mr. Mulder, you've been a busy man," a deep, gravelly voice reached him out of the darkness. "You wanted to see me."

The voice startled Mulder back to the present. "I need your help."

The dark man merely nodded. "You've found your sister."

"You... she *is* my sister?"

"Surely you wouldn't be here if you didn't believe that already. Don't waste time you don't have." He moved from the tree which kept him in shadows. "You are in serious trouble, Mr. Mulder."

It was Mulder's turn to nod, swallowing the growing frustration he was feeling. He really didn't need to be told the obvious.

"Dr. Moore's defection came as a deep blow to several important, though *irregular*, projects your smoking friend had personally approved. Unfortunately for him, those who oversee the bigger picture had not authorized them. Indeed, several, like 'Project Einstein', of which you are familiar, had been ordered shut down." He handed Mulder a digital tape.

"What's this?"

"Proof, Agent Mulder. You now have a choice. In your hand, you hold all that you'd need to prove everything you've been working for, including what was done to your partner. You can release the information in whatever fashion you see fit."

"You said a choice?"

"Or you can return this tape to the men who will use it to deal with our cigarette smoker and be willing to deal for your sister's life. There is a phone number on this paper that will work one time only but it will put you in touch with the man you need to meet. I should warn you. This tape can be decoded once but it will be obvious to anyone you show it to after that. The men you'll be dealing with will not appreciate any sort of duplicity. *That* is your choice." He turned and began to move off into the night.

"Wait. Why are you doing this?"

The man walked back and stood inches from Mulder's face. "I do not answer to you, Mr. Mulder. I never did and I never will." Without another word, he was gone.

September 5, 1996
LGM Office. 8:53 PM.

Scully examined the tape as if she could divine its secrets by wishing hard enough. Everything they'd worked for, everything they paid for in lost time, blood and tears, was right here in her hand. All the unanswered questions, both for herself and her partner, and for all the "Ambers" that had suffered at the claws of those monsters. It seemed such a little thing to have such a high cost. And now? What were they going to do now?

Perched up on a desk, she unconsciously swung her legs, an old habit from childhood she slipped in to whenever her feet didn't touch the floor. The Gunmen and Mulder had their heads together trying to find a way to decode the tape while preserving its encryption. While her scientific nature applauded their efforts, Scully knew it was wasted. Those bastards were too good, too careful. The time would be better spent in deciding which path to follow. It would not be an easy decision to make - for either of them.

"There's no way, Mulder. Once this code is broken, we won't be able to restore it to its original state," said Langly, straightening his spine with a stretch that should have dislocated several vertebrae.

"There's got to be!" Mulder responded, pacing the room as if he were frantically searching for an answer.

The Gunmen looked at each other in an effort to confirm their group consensus.

"I'm sorry, Mulder," Byers said sympathetically.

"C'mon Mulder," said Scully, slipping off the desk. "Let's go for a walk. I'm sure the boys won't mind keeping an eye on things for a few minutes."

Mulder glanced at the closed door, behind which huddled his sister and her loved ones. She'd made it quite clear that she didn't include him in that list. He didn't know what to do, what to say, to reach her. He wanted so much for them.

"C'mon, Mulder," Scully repeated, tugging on his sleeve.

The breeze had an unusual hint of moisture in the air for a crisp Autumn night in Washington. The stars were hidden by the lights of the city and Scully regretted that for some reason. She wanted to see the stars tonight. Without a word between them, Scully and Mulder turned together and headed for their bench near the basin. Walking in silence, Mulder reached out for her hand and kept it firmly in his.

"What do you think?" he asked when they finally reached their destination. He knew deep down what they had to do, no, what *he* had to do, but he needed to be sure Scully would be all right. It wasn't a choice for Mulder. His sister came first. The choice was whether or not Scully would see it the same way.

"I don't know, Mulder. I really don't. We have a duty, an obligation, that's bigger than just our personal situation. We need to bring these men to justice. That's got to count for something. On the other hand, if we try to prosecute them, they'll kill Sam and we won't be able to protect her. Not forever. You know that. We both do." Scully looked out to watch the water flowing by them. The water didn't care what they decided, she realized.

"She's my sister, Scully. And even if she wasn't, can we just turn her over to those bastards? And what about Karen?" Mulder started to pace by the water's edge.

"If we don't stop them, there will be more Karens," Scully pointed out softly. "And more Ambers. If we don't stop these thugs, who will?"

He met this comment with silence.

Scully had one final argument. With tears in her voice, she offered it. "You know they'll close the X-Files, Mulder. All your work will have been for nothing."

Mulder ran a hand through his unruly hair. "Scully, do you remember when you accused me of looking for the truth with nothing but a shovel?"

Scully looked up, startled, unsure where he was going with this. "I believe I changed that to a backhoe."

Mulder gave her a small grin. "I found out later that Skinner had just told you that they were closing Melissa's case. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Mulder, I..."

"You thought I didn't see you, Scully. Wouldn't be there for you, didn't you?"

"Mulder, that's not true."

"Yes, it is. Your greatest fear was that I was going to betray you. Even now, whenever I go off without you, there's a little part of you that thinks I won't be coming back." He walked back to the bench and kneeled in front of her, taking her hand. "Scully, I always saw you. I always knew when you were keeping something from me. And, Scully, I will always come back to you." He kissed the palm of her hand. "Always." He looked deeply into her blue eyes, willing her to believe him. If I have to leave you for awhile, he thought, to keep my sister safe, know, dear God, please know that I'll find my way back to you.

"Mulder," she whispered, more mouthing his name than actually speaking it, she bent down touching her lips to his.

"I can't make this decision without you, Scully. You've paid your own way on this ride. I need to know what you think."

She rose from the bench and walked towards the edge of the tidewater. Scully didn't answer right away, instead focusing once more on the water. Flowing by them, uncaring, its course set by nature.

Nothing under heaven is softer or weaker than water, and yet nothing is better for attacking what is hard and strong, because of its immutability.

The words came back slowly as she continued to watch the water. All her study of the Tao, which she had undertaken at her sister's death, returned. They didn't really have a choice. It wasn't the time for the truth to come out or it wouldn't be so difficult. They were talking about Sam's life and that of her daughter, and she and Mulder would have to find another way to protect all the future Karens and Ambers.

"Make the deal, Mulder."

Mulder breathed, whether in relief or stress, Scully didn't know. He walked up to her, folding her gently in his arms. "Are you sure? What about you? And Melissa?"

"Missy's dead. They can't hurt her anymore. And whatever they did to me, well, we'll deal with it when we have to. You need to save your sister and her family." She smiled up at him. "Our family," she amended.

He kissed her long and hard. "Let's go make that phone call."

The Master can keep giving because there is no end to her wealth. She acts without expectation, succeeds without taking credit, and doesn't think that she is any better than anyone else.
-Tao Te Ching

September 6, 1996
10:11 PM.

Well, it happened again, Scully thought to herself as she stared blankly at the flood of garble that swept over the monitor. Mulder was out to God knew where, with the nameless man. Alone. And once again he'd left her behind. Alone.

And the Gunmen weren't any better. Conveniently, they'd left on unspecified "errands". "Yeah, you'd better run," she hissed in the empty office, "I'm not done with you guys yet." The more she thought about it, the more she was able to remind herself just how pissed she still was about the whole secret video thing. If Frohike thought that something like that didn't happen without repercussions, she'd just have to set him straight.

So, Scully was left in the LGM office as the designated babysitter. Well, at least it wasn't her that needed the supervision this time. She stood from the computer chair, bored with the mindless tasks that Mulder had contrived to keep her occupied while he was gone, and paced the tight space allowed by the office. Every wall, including those covered with blinded windows were blocked by shelves and cabinets full of computer hardware. Wires hung from the exposed ceiling tiles and as snakes under the well-worn gray rug.

The remnants of their meal was still stacked in and beside the huge porcelain sink.

On the wall near the entrance door, there hung a small utility calender with certain dates highlighted and circled in different colors. Of course, there were no words to give any hint of their significance. To the right of that were three metal filing cabinets, all locked, Scully discovered. Briefly she considered testing her skill at jimmying small dead bolts. But the emergence of Samantha from the back room startled her, and any secrets that she might obtain in the Gunmen's absence was completely forgotten.

Instead she feigned interest in the computer screen again, and hoped she would take the hint.

Sam was able to pick up on the small red-head's startled - and then quickly covered - reaction. The tension between them was unmistakable, and as she watched the other woman cross the room, putting tables and machinery between them, she couldn't help but comment. "Why are you doing this for us, if you don't like me?"

"There's more than just you at stake," Scully shot back crisply. "And my personal feelings have nothing to do with the situation. You're Mulder's sister-"

"There is no proof of that," Sam retorted without missing a beat. Scully had to close her eyes against the wall of fury the parroted phrase raised in her. Scully's tolerance for the hateful woman was quickly finding its end.

"He's the only one who believes that, and he's the same guy who believes I was abducted by aliens. He's a lunatic!"

And that was the last straw.

"How dare you!" Scully growled, her composure completely lost. "How dare you insult him that way? He's turned the world upside down for you! He's given up everything for you! His career, his life," finding it hard to get her chest to move all of a sudden, she breathed heavily, before blurting: "His marriage!"

"Oh, please," Samantha dismissed her tirade with a swat of her hand, "He's going to marry you. He loves you."

"I KNOW THAT!" Her face was ablaze with the most violent of crimson; her neck lined like a spider's web as she fought for control that evaded her.

The pitch of her voice rose nearly an octave and it reverberated through the metal in the room. "I know he loves me!"

The color had drained form Sam's face. That response wasn't what she was expecting from the Agent before her.

Anything but. A second later Randy was in the door behind her, groggy but ready for action.

Scully saw him and dropped her eyes. A new frustration with herself throbbed through her temple. "I'm sorry I woke you, Randy." She managed to get out weakly, pulling herself back together. "I didn't mean to ... wake you."

Touching her husband gently along his midriff, Sam looked up at him with her cloudy blue eyes. "I guess I pushed the wrong button. Go back to sleep, sweetheart. You need to rest."

"Why don't you come back with me?" He looked over both women. The fuse had seemed to have died down, but he wasn't wanting to take any chances. "You look tired, too."

"I will," she placated, "as soon as I finish my talk with Agent Scully."

His eyes narrowed, "Why don't you come back with me now? You can have your talk tomorrow."

"Tomorrow we might not be here-"

"Samantha." He cut her off, "We already discussed this. We can't go to my father's place. I won't involve him in this."

Scully's ears picked up.

"What about Karen, Randy? We can't keep her in the line of fire! We'll leave her with your father. She can't live on the road forever."

"If they were able to get to her before, they'll find her there, too."

Sam pulled away from him. "Not you, too! No one got her! No one got me!" She backed in to the island of tables and a stack of floppy disks tumbled to the floor. "Just because that man, that LUNATIC," she pivoted and screamed at Scully, "says that's what happened doesn't mean that it did!"

"You remember, Sam, I know you do!" Randy's voice was stern with his wife, but his eyes were tender and worried.

"I remember NOTHING!"

"But I remember." The meek little voice came from behind that tall man.

he stepped aside, and picked up his little girl. "Daddy, they hurt me."

"Who hurt you sweetheart?"

"The bad men. And the little men. The light. I don't want to go to Grandpa's, Daddy."

Scully came from around the table, her eyes straining to catch a glimpse of anything obvious at the base of the little girl's neck. "What light, Karen?"

The little girl, eyes tearing look up at the woman and shrugged. "Just the white light. It hurt my eyes, but I couldn't close them."

Sam held out her hands for her daughter, "Come here, baby."

Karen went willingly to her mother, but quietly insisted, "They hurt you, too, Mommy. Don't you remember? Those men with the masks?"

Running a shaky hand over her daughter's hair, she pulled the child's head to her lips and kissed her forehead as if to keep away the unseen evil spirits that surrounded them all. "That's enough of that, Karen. I want you to lie down for a nap."

"Wait," Scully stopped her with a hand to her arm, "I'd like ... " she began but caught the look of death from the other woman, " ... if you 'll allow me, to make sure that Karen really is okay."

"You're not touching my baby!" Sam turned defensively away from her.

"No, I'm not going to hurt her. They may have slipped a tiny piece of metal behind her neck, or in her belly. It would be just under the skin, easy to feel-"

"Why the hell would anyone do that?" Randy's anger sparked.

Scully shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe it's a kind of marker. There was a sliver of grooved metal that was removed from my neck-"

Karen gasped. "The bad men took you, too! Does Uncle Fox know?"

"Yes, he does."

"Stop this!" Panic was worming it's way in to Samantha's voice. "No one is touching my daughter, least of all YOU!"

Randy reached out for his wife. "Now, Sam, maybe it's a good idea to let her take a look, if she knows what she's looking for-"

"NO!" Tears streamed down her cheeks. "She's fine!" Then she tore past them and kicked the bedroom door closed behind her.

To Scully's surprise Randy didn't simply kick the door down like Mulder probably would have. Instead, he ran his right hand through his full head of hair and turned to the petite woman behind him. "I know Sam isn't giving the best of first impressions, but she really is a wonderful person.

She's bright and funny and usually very easy to get along with." He turned to the heavy door and waited a moment for any sounds that might make their way through to him. Nothing did. "She's just scared," he turned back to Scully. "And exhausted. And with the fire and the men and the ... well, the appearance of you and your partner, she's ... uh, her protective instincts have kicked in. Samantha is terrified of heights, but I've seen her climb up on to the roof of a three story barn when she thought Karen might have been stuck up there." He chuckled briefly at the memory. "As it turns out, it was an old dress of hers that some how escaped the clothes line during a storm." He pulled back in to the present and caught Scully's gaze head on. "What I'm trying to say is that she'd do anything for that child. Anything for me."

Scully slowly nodded. "I think I understand. I'd die for Mulder." She turned and sat on the computer chair, resting elbows to knees, and then head to palm. "But Randy, you have to know that we're not the bad guys, here."

"I do. And I think she does, too. She's feeling helpless; and Sam is a strong woman. She's anything but helpless. She needs to put her back up against something. Or someone. And lucky you, guess who she picked?"

Randy gave her a wide grin that exposed a small dimple in his right cheek.

Then he turned back to the door, and rapped his knuckles lightly over the wood. "Samantha. Sam, let's talk." He opened the door just enough for him to slid through, and then he disappeared behind it.

Scully sighed. Randy was a good guy. Level headed and caring. He balanced off Samantha's emotional responses with quiet perfection.

Samantha was lucky to have a man who loved her so much. Just like Dana knew she was lucky to have Mulder. That thought tickled something inside of her. As much as she had been doubting his intentions to marry her, and questioning the sanity of such a move, she'd never really contemplated life without him. He was hers. No question. And she was his: mind, body and soul.

August 2, 1996
6:49 PM

She slammed the door with a satisfying thrust of her hip, a small paper bag proudly advertising 'Tony's Pasta Place' snuggled under her left arm. With a satisfying smile she flipped the keys in her right palm until the door key slid between her forefinger and thumb. Mulder had been brooding for nearly a week, and when he'd told her at work that he wanted some time alone, she'd taken it as a positive sign of self healing. After all, Mulder wasn't known for self preservation. Scully considered this her influence on him.

So, she'd have to spend the weekend alone. So what? She'd done it before - countless times - and she'd always survived. And anyway, the solitude might do her some good as well. Seeing one person night and day for weeks on end would but a strain on any relationship. Yes, they both needed a little time.

So, in preparation for their weekend apart, she'd quickly scurried to her car, phoned in a double order of lasagna, and made a quick stop at the liquor store. Which, as luck would have it, was located in the same strip mall as a small florist shop. And at that point, she decided to go a little wild.

It was important for him to understand that just because they were getting married didn't mean he wasn't allowed his private moments. Mulder had been alone for so long, she didn't want him to feel smothered. Protected and loved, yes. But never smothered. She was able to set the table and make it out to her car across the street in time to watch him pull up next to his building. She chuckled to herself, feeling like she'd accomplished an impossible task: surprising Mulder.

In the brightly lit hallway, Scully was about to unlock her door when a peppy, familiar voice erupted behind her. "Dana! Glad I caught you!"

Scully grimaced. Not because she wasn't happy to see her friend, but because she knew that Caroline's unannounced visit meant only one thing: the dreaded wedding questions.

"Not tonight, I have a headache," Scully slipped out with a dry humor that Mulder would be proud of.

"You keep canceling appointments at the boutique - God, I hate that word - so, I boxed up some samples of China and brought them to you." And on cue, she shoved the heavy box in to Scully's arms; the bag of dinner plopped unceremoniously to the floor.

"This is too heavy!"

Caroline grabbed the keys from her sister-in-law, and swept up the discarded, grease-soaked bag, and flew in to the apartment. "Mmmmm, what's for dinner, huh?"

With a sigh, Scully reluctantly followed. And made it across the living room before she felt the inevitable. "Caroline!" her voice was frantic, "I'm dropping -" before she could find a place to deposit the China it crashed to the floor and she swore at the top of her lungs.

Caroline rushed in to the room, late as usual, just as Scully's door sprang alive. "Scully!" It was another familiar voice. This time decidedly male. "Dana? Are you okay?"

She pulled the door open and the bright face of her fianc

smiled a worried smile down at her. "Mulder? I thought you were taking the weekend off."

"I heard a crash-"

"From your apartment, you heard the crash?" She was skeptical and then noticed the covered tray in his arms, "You didn't like the dinner?"

"I loved the dinner," he edged his way closer to her, pushing the food against his left hip, and taking her waist in to his right arm.

"I loved the flowers." He lowered his face towards hers and brush his lips like a feather over her nose and eye lids. "I love you."

From somewhere behind her, Caroline shrieked, "Ooooo, kissing! Can't you guys do that on your OWN time?" Mulder looked up curiously to find a small woman, hundreds of fabric swatches pinned to her shirt, her thick, straight blond hair pulled tightly back into a pony tail, and at her feet a card board box that looked as if it had seen the inside of a trash compactor.

"Hi, Caroline," he said with a strain, and then turned back to Scully, who was pulling the lasagna from his hand. "What's going on here?"

"Girl stuff," Caroline happily sang out, but Scully made a face at her on her way to the kitchen. "Mulder, what do you think of this color for the bride's maid's dresses?" She pointed to a triangular piece of fabric that shimmered a translucent green against her white cotton sleeve. "Dana thinks it's too much, but I'm thinking she's way off base here."

"It's too much," Scully heard him say from the kitchen. She was slicing off a large piece of the pasta pie when she felt him come up behind her. "Dana," he said, coming up behind her, "why didn't you tell me you were doing wedding stuff tonight? I would've come over to help." No, you wouldn't have. And neither would I. "It was a surprise to me." She pushed the power button on the large black plastic box and turned to her man; her hands resting comfortably against the arms that pinned her against the counter. "Besides it's tedious and mind numbing. She brought over cina patterns to pick out."

"China? Like dishes?"

"I think we're turning into my parents, Mulder. We've got to fight this." She shook her head wanly and rested the top of it against his chest.

"I can think of worse people to turn in to." He ran a hand through her silky reddish strands. "But really, Scully? China? I hope you're not expecting me to cook or something."

"Mulder the only thing I'm expecting out of you is to keep me happy. Whether or not the cooking gets done, or the laundry, or the children get bathed is a minor thing that we'll work out on a need to do basis."

"Does that mean you're going to do the laundry?"

She gave him a stern look and slipped out from his arms and back in to the living room where Caroline could be heard sorting out the pieces of china from the box and lying the pieces out on the nearby coffee table.

"Hey, Scully?" he followed behind her like a puppy dog. "Did you say children? As in plural?"

She smirked. So he was listening. "Must've been your imagination."

"HEY!" he plopped down next to Caroline. "I like this ... shard." He held up the piece to the light, "Are these aliens in this pattern?"

"What?" Caroline grabbed the china from him.

"Looks like aliens in a congo line to me."

Yep, Scully chuckled to herself, that's my guy.

The memory faded suddenly, and Scully felt a wash of overwhelming dread seep through her chest. Her watch told her that Mulder couldn't possibly have made it to the drop-off point yet, and still she felt in her bones that something was wrong. Her eyes skimmed the low table and landed on her black cellular, the desire to press "MEMORY 1" itching in her palm.

Don't call me, Scully, he'd said. No matter what happens, we can't let them trace the call back here.

But if he wasn't there, yet ...

No. Don't call him. Don't risk anything more. But then, there was nothing more than Mulder.

The door to the make-shift bed room creaked open, and a fearful little face peered up at Scully.

"Do I ... have the metal?" Karen's weak question was followed by a sob from the anguishing mother behind her.

Looking from both parents down to the trusting green eyes of the girl, Scully answered honestly. "I don't know. May I look for you?"

Slowly Karen nodded, her pony tails sweeping her shoulders. With a gently smile, Scully lifted the little girl up on to the table and placed her practiced hands on the base of her neck. Then she slid her fingers down the child's back. Nothing but smooth, tanned skin.

"Karen, can I look at your tummy?" The little girl nodded and lifted up her shirt willingly for Scully to inspect. Other than the fact that she was an outtie, there was nothing for Scully to comment on. "You look good to me," Scully gave a wide toothed grin to the child, and immediately Karen flew in to her arms. She hugged the little girl to her, tearing at the relief that rushed through her veins. Of course, she wasn't able to check all of the places They could hide implants, but knowing that Karen didn't have the marks that her own body was scarred with, renewed her hope in an unjust, uncaring world.

Randy took his daughter from Scully and led her in to the back room. Nap time had been postponed long enough, and both of them needed rest.

Samantha, on the other hand, simply stood staring at the woman before her, tears silently running down the course of her cheeks. "I was so afraid," her voice wavered and she stopped for a moment, collecting another breath. "Why ... why do you do it?"

Scully's brow tightened. "Do what?"

"You put yourself in danger. You purposely walk in to Their line of fire. Fox ... he's out there, risking his life for me. For my family."

"He believes he's doing it for his family, too."

Sam shook her head. "Why?"

Scully sighed. "Because that's what he does. That's what we do." She tried to find a way to explain a little of what made her Mulder tick.

"He's spent his life trying to understand the things that aren't meant to be understood. Like your disappearance. He studies them, dissects them. That's just what he does. And the X-Files allow him to do that. To keep other Samantha's at home with their families. To keep other Mulder's from having their families ripped apart."

"And you?"

"I follow him. He drives me nuts, pushes my buttons, tests my beliefs. But he also fills my life. He gives me a reason to fight against the men that took me. Without him there, I'm nothing. I know that. Without the X- Files, he's nothing. So I do everything I have to, to keep the department open, and he does what he has to save the world, one person at a time."

"So now he's trying to save me?"

Scully smiled. "Of course. To him, you see, you are the ultimate truth."

All things end in the Tao
as rivers flow into the sea.
-Tao Te Ching

September 7, 1996
7:21 AM.

They took his gun, well, both guns; but Mulder wasn't surprised at that. He seriously doubted he'd be allowed to attend this meeting armed. He also knew that they would expect the gun so he brought it along and played out the game. No sense in disappointing them.

He looked around the room, appreciating the decor. Scully would love this, he thought. The dark paneling shone with recent polishing, the chairs were covered with fine leather, probably butter soft to the touch. Mulder was sure that the old wood was a perfect cover for the video cameras and taping devices he assumed covered the room. A nicely decorated prison.

There was no doubt in his mind that he was a prisoner. One glance at the two neanderthals guarding the door confirmed that. They were both well-over six, three, definitely armed, and probably weighed in at over two-fifty.

"Mr. Mulder," said a gray-haired man in cultured tones, "I must say this is a surprise. I don't suppose you'd care to tell me how you got this number?" He was dressed impeccably, every hair in place, his tie a masterpiece of refinement. Mulder had met him before.

"I don't think so, if you don't mind. Good contacts are so hard to find these days," Mulder quipped.

"So true, so true. Well, it's no matter. I'm sure you know that we tend to move fairly often and this office was about to close anyway. What can we do for you, Mr. Mulder?" He waved the young agent into a nearby chair, and chose a seat for himself.

Now that the time had come, Mulder was at a loss for how to proceed. His confusion must have shown on his face.

"Allow me to assist you. I understand you have recently found your sister. Is this correct?"

Mulder's expression turned to stone.

"Really, Mr. Mulder, you should have known we would be interested in why you were contacting us," the older man chided. "We have our own methods of gaining information. I assume this has something to do with her."

Mulder nodded. "I want you to leave her alone. I want you to leave her family alone," he said, grimly.

"I'm sure you do. No brother could want otherwise for his sister. But you must know, Mr. Mulder, that your family has long held a special interest for us. Much time has been spent on them. Surely you can appreciate my reluctance to make you such a promise."

"I don't care what you do to me," said Mulder, "I want you to leave them alone."

"So noble, as always. But we're not interested in you. That choice was made long ago."

Mulder jumped to his feet, ready to strangle this smug piece of shit right where he sat, until the quick movement of the guards, pushing him back into his chair, reminded him that this was not the time to be losing his temper.

"Fox, may I call you Fox? Allow me to give you some advice. You must learn to control your emotions. They only cause you to make mistakes in the long run." He nodded to one of the men in the room, who left through a side door. "We've been following your movements through a colleague of ours for some time. We knew when you found your sister, and we know how you found her. We know you rescued her from the, er, more enthusiastic maneuvering of said colleague. But for you to call us, that came as a surprise, as I mentioned before. I had to ask myself why, you see. So I gave certain orders last night after your telephone call."

The door opened to reveal the return of the guard who was now holding another figure - Sam! She was barely conscious, leaning heavily to one side, seemingly unaware of Mulder's presence. Mulder leapt to his feet, ready to rush to her but was again prevented by a pair of beefy hands. Scully! My God! Sam was with Scully! "What have you done to her, you son of a bitch! If you've hurt her... if you've hurt Scully..."

"Calm yourself, Mr. Mulder. Your sister is fine. So is your lovely partner. And your friends for that matter." The older man waved his hand negligently. "You must excuse the rather time consuming directions we gave you last night but I needed that time, you see, to be sure we could retrieve your sister. She only just arrived. I wanted to be sure I got the truth from you, Agent Mulder, and I was sure that your sister being here would guarantee this. Now suppose we begin."

Mulder's stomach was in knots and the lump in his throat threatened to choke him. "I have a tape," he said in a sickened tone of voice.

"Ah, yes, this one I believe." The man reached into his suit coat and pulled out the digital tape which Mulder had left in Scully's safekeeping.

Mulder was lost. He had nothing now. Nothing to bargain with. Nothing to hope for. He looked helplessly at his sister. I'm sorry, Sam, he thought. I'm sorry I let you down again. That I couldn't protect you now, any more than I could when I was twelve.

"I have not had the time to decode this. Perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me its contents and save us all the trouble."

"I, ... I don't know the entire contents. The person who gave it to me told me that it contained information about certain projects that are ongoing; projects which are not totally sanctioned."

The gray-haired man leaned back, his eyes narrowed, thoughtfully. "And you had decided to give us this tape? You expect me to believe you would not use this tape for yourself? That you, and your partner, would give this up for a sister you don't even know?"

Sam was reviving now, Mulder noted. She did not struggle in her captors arms but instead was gazing intently at her brother, listening to the on-going exchange.

"Well, Mr. Mulder?"

"We were going to give you the tape in exchange for your promise to leave Sam and her family alone."

"I see." The older man rose to his feet and paced around the room. "And you would have trusted our word?"

Mulder shook his head. "You don't know where I got this tape. You don't know that there isn't another copy. If you ever bothered my family again, all deals would be off." It wasn't much Mulder knew, trying to bluff his way out of this, but it was all he had.

"True. You make an interesting opponent, Agent Mulder. I am inclined to accept your deal." He held up a hand when Mulder's head shot up in surprise. "I am inclined. But, I cannot speak for my colleagues. Wait here."

He nodded to the man holding Sam, who moved her to a chair. By the time Mulder looked back, the older man had disappeared through the door.

The waiting stretched out interminably for Mulder. Questions to Sam were met with silence though she gave him a slight nod when he asked if she was all right. Despite the reassurances of his "host," he couldn't help but worry about Scully and what she was doing. If Sam was gone, how would Scully

have reacted? What would Randy do? Hold on, Scully, he prayed.

Don't do anything yet. Wait for me. Wait.

The door opening gave Mulder a jolt. The last few days of too little sleep and too much tension were taking there toll.

"Your offer has been accepted, Mr. Mulder. The tape has been decoded and we noted that it had not been tampered with." The older man moved with confidence into the room. Settling into a deep burgundy colored chair, he looked thoughtfully at the young agent. "You should know that the projects involving your sister have been over for some time. That was why she was released when she was still a child. In fact, she would have been returned to your family but there were old debts that had to be paid and she was the price. I don't expect you to understand that but I thought you should know."

"And the project involving Samantha's daughter?"

Sam's head jerked up.

"I'm not at liberty to tell you about that, Agent Mulder. But you needn't worry. Your deal included young Karen. She will not be bothered in future. None of your family, current members or future members, will be bothered." He stood up and Mulder stood with him. The older man pinned him with his gaze. "I trust you understand, Mr. Mulder, that we, of course, do not intend to be bothered by your interference in the future, either."

Mulder nodded slowly, know he was finally sealing the fate of the X-Files.

The man smiled. "Good. You're free to go."

Mulder walked over and helped his sister to her feet. Dazed with the suddenness of it all, Mulder realized the running, the terror, the nightmare was over. It was all over. Without a word, they left the room together.

September 7, 1996
Interstate 95.

The morning sun was clear and cool around the car, as Mulder piloted back to DC.

His immediate concern for Scully and the others had been eliminated by a brief call.

"No, we're fine, Mulder. Well, all except for Frohike. I've duct taped him to a folding chair and I'm forcing him to sit through a couple of hours of "Sightings"and "Murder She Wrote."There had been a palpable taste of revenge in her voice.

The man would never be the same again.

Scully had briefly explained that one minute she and Sam were talking and the next she was trying not to breath in the green gas that seemed to come out of nowhere. The next thing she could remember, Frohike was crouched over her, trying to give her mouth to mouth. Of course, he hadn't bothered to check to see that she was, in fact, already breathing. The duct tape had been lying on the floor within arm's reach. The rest was history.

It had been more than twenty minutes since he'd hung up the phone with Scully, and not a word had been spoken in the cabin of the car since. Once Mulder thought Sam might say something, but instead she turned to stare off into the pastels of the countryside, running her fingers lightly over the passenger door's arm rest.

"We've got about an hour's drive back to DC." His voice seemed unnaturally loud against the quiet hum of the engine.

"Hmh."

Was she chilly? Should he turn on the heat for her? Was she thinking about Randy and Karen? Or maybe how her life might be different with a brother in it? Or was she coming up with a way to get as far away from him as possible? He had to know. "Maybe we could talk a little bit about what you remember. If you have questions, you know, I could fill in some of the gaps."

She sighed and ran a hand down her neck. The drugs in the gas she'd been exposed to seemed to be wearing off, but her voice still sounded as if her throat was bothering her. "It doesn't matter what I remember ... IF I remember-"

"Of course it matters! Sam, why are you so adamant about this?" He tried to keep his voice just below a roar. But she was just as exasperating as an adult as she had been as a child. "You remember me. You know I'm your brother. Jesus! Samantha, we have so much catching up to do. Do you want to see Mom?"

"Mom?" The hesitation registered as a small intake of breath. Then she shook her head. "Why do you want to dredge up the past? The sooner we begin to rebuild our lives, and look towards the future, the better."

"I totally agree," Mulder's serious tones incited her more. "So tell me what you remember, Samantha. And we'll build off of that. Tell me the truth."

She laughed at his sudden passion. "The truth? You don't want the truth. You want your version of the truth. And Fox, you can search until the day that you die and you still won't ever find it. Because it only exists in your twisted, warped memories."

"What are you talking about?"

She gave him a look that every older brother knows like the back of his hand. That let-me-tell-you-how-stupid-you-are patent expression. "Aliens, Fox? Space ships?"

"I know what I saw. I saw the lights. I saw the aliens!"

She countered without thinking. "You saw Dad's cronies in white contamination suits-"

"They were aliens! I couldn't move!"

"You were drugged."

"NO!"

"Yes! And so was Mom. And so was I. They gassed the whole damn house."

"NO!"

"YES!"

"I remember-"

"You remember what they wanted you to remember! What you chose to remember!"

"NO!"

"When you can't deal with an experience, you change it. You twist it. You always have. You warp it in to something you CAN deal with. Ghosts, monsters, magic, aliens ... And what's really scary, Fox, is that you choose to believe that your sister was abducted by aliens who performed horrible experiments on her and held her hostage for twenty five years rather than accept the fact that your father was a bastard. That's beyond denial. That's sick."

The car swerved to the side of the road and came to an abrupt halt on the grainy shoulder of the highway. The muscles in Mulder jaw rippled in waves as he ground his molars into the frustration and anger that flashed through him. Anger? No, not anger. Torment. Men in suits? Gas? All those endless years of vainly searching.

George Hale had been searching for elves.

Sam released a tremendous breath and dropped her hands from their brace on the dashboard. She wetted her lips and spoke again. "Fox."

"Sam-"

"No. Let me say this before ... before I change my mind." She crossed her arms tightly against her body, and her voice shrank down to almost a whisper of the ferocity that she'd shown earlier. "Fox. I'm not your sister."

"Yes, I you-"

"Samantha Mulder is dead."

His throat ceased up and constricted around the words that he was wanting to say. The denial. The rejection of that last utterance out of her mouth.

Mulder fought gaging as the entire contents of his stomach balled up and slammed against his lungs. He managed a weakened, "No."

"When she was taken from her home and family, she begged for them to take her back." Idly, as if she were relating some distant even, Sam's left hand ran down the seat belt across her chest. "They never listened, though. Instead they tortured her."

"What are you-"

"Then one day - maybe a month or two after - her father came. He didn't talk to her, but he as there in the room, watching over her. She looked up from the table ... or chair ... whatever it was that they strapped her to, and she tried to reach out for him. She begged for him to save her. To take her home. Not to leave her there. She promised that she'd be a good girl from that moment forward."

"He was there?" Mulder's disbelief left his voice airy. "He knew all along?" This is the truth, he told himself. And the truth was making him sick.

Samantha shrugged. "He left her. That man left his daughter with strangers who were hurting her. He heard her cries. He heard her pleas.

And it was at that moment Samantha Mulder died."

What she was telling him was worse than anything he could have imagined.

Worse than the horrible, hateful things he had feared his father might have been a part of when he first found out about the elder Mulder's involvement with the Consortium. Mulder shook his head and leaned it back against the rest. "But you didn't die, Sam. You're a survivor."

Her eyes focused on the nothing that waited for them just beyond the reach of the still headlights. Mulder could see that she was remembering, but her stony face revealed nothing of what she might have been feeling. "I used to blame myself for what was done to me. I thought I must've done something horrible. That *I* was horrible. Then I blamed him. Them.

But as I got older, I decided that it really wasn't anyone's fault. Not mine. Not his. Not yours. It was just chance. Rotten luck that I happened to be born the daughter to a father who didn't love me, and a mother that wasn't strong enough to."

"I loved you, Sam."

She dismissed his gentle revelation with closed eyes. "You hated and resented me."

"No, I-"

Her eyes snapped open and pinned him to the seat. "You were a big bully, Fox."

"I was twelve. That's how older brothers are."

Sam's look softened, and in her face he saw something new, something that he recognized from a long forgotten dream. A small, sad smile in the corner of her eye. His sister, Samantha, had the saddest eyes. "Maybe."

"When they took you, Sam, I tried to help. You were calling for me to help you-"

"I remember calling for you. You said my name, but you didn't help me. I was sure you hated me."

"Hated you?" His throat erupted in a chortle. "You can't know how hard I looked for you. I devoted my life to finding you."

"I know. Your ... partner ..." there was a small smile on her lips as she said her name, "Dana gave me an idea. But don't you understand, Fox? ou devoted your life to finding the eight-year old who was taken out of her bed twenty-five years ago. But I'm not her."

"Of course you are. Time doesn't change that."

"Time changes a lot." In her eyes he caught a glimpse of just what she might have been trying to tell him without saying the words. The pain and fear, and loneliness. Things he knew all too well; but in a way that could never match her experiences. What he saw scared him. "Look, I can't be the sister that you lost. I'm simply not that person any more. That little girl died on the operating table. She died the second her parents abandoned her. She's gone."

Then, as if a veil of light broke through the despair in her soul, a ray of hope gleamed from her face. "But, Fox, if you want ... maybe ... you and *I* could try being friends. Then maybe ... maybe I could learn to be your sister again."

Maybe was a promise of a chance for a future. "That's all I can ask for."

"Good. Because for now, that's all I can give."

Epilogue

September 16, 1996
Scully Residence

It was more than a week later when the welcome home party was thrown in Sam's honor, along with her family. The general understanding, however, was that it was also a welcoming back for Mulder and Scully - married or no. Early in the evening toasts had been made celebrating unity and family and friendship and love. As Scully had hoped, it was a good night for healing.

In the comfortable living room, the atmosphere was light and warm, as was typical for the Scully clan. Outside the French doors, the children played in the backyard and Karen had happily found herself included in a mud war - boys against girls - as all pre-pubescent games should be.

With the squeals of laughter that came from her daughter, Samantha actually found herself smiling.

Scully spied Mrs. Mulder and Randy in a quiet corner, chatting quietly after he'd brought her a fresh beer. Nothing like getting to know the in- laws, Scully thought. His wife, however, was finding it hard to relate to a mother after so long. She sat across the room, half watching her daughter playing like a healthynine-year-old. Scully recalled that in their initial meeting, Sam had commented on how much Mrs. Mulder had changed, and her mother sadly smiled, and with a nod, remarked how Sam had changed as well.

That first meeting had been brief, but emotional. The next day, they'd tried spending the day together and ended up sitting in silence for hours with nothing to say. Well, nothing that either was willing to say. But Mrs. Scully had reminded Dana, "She needed time to open up to Fox. She'll need some time for her mother, as well. She hasn't had a life that leads to easy trust." Truer words were never spoken.

So it came as no surprise that Sam was a little distant. And even though everyone was painfully aware of the odd tension being generated, no one mentioned it.

Most of the focus was thrown to the center of the room where Jen and Caroline, the chatter boxes, sat bickering over an X-Men board game that had been meant for the grandchildren.

Jen had already selected her piece and was trying to decipher the box top when Caroline whined, "I want to be Rogue. She's got the best butt."

"Oh my god." Whimpered the small woman next to her, and she held up her hand in defiance.

Scully rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Such different worlds. Like night and day.

From her spot on the couch, sandwiched between her brothers, Scully frowned at her partner sitting quietly by the darkened fireplace. He'd started out the evening quietly observing and joining in on the occasional quips passed playfully between family members. But Scully recognized the warning sign of his withdrawal in to his own little world - his set jaw, and darkened eyes - and she handed her soda off to Bill, Jr. and pulled herself off the couch.

Mulder watched her stand and cross to him, stepping over the board game with a few minor protests from it's players in the process. Leave it to Scully to make her presence known. He'd noticed how much she enjoyed sparing with her sisters-in-law. It was good that she had some friends, he thought. Some female companionship to help balance the male dominated world of her professional life. And private life, he added with a smug smile.

When she stood over him, he reached for her hand and pulled her down to him, settling her comfortably in his lap. Her body eased close to his, and he tried to remember when he'd held her last. In the motel that night when they'd both been so tired? No. It'd been weeks since he'd really held her.

Weeks since he'd made love to her. That realization left his brow furrowed.

With a light kiss to her ear, he whispered sweetly, "Randy and Mom seem to be hitting it off."

She nodded with a smile and looked up at his serious gaze. "Hey, why the long face, sailor?"

His eyes seemed especially green in the soft glow of the living room lamps.

"I could ask the same to you."

She shrugged. It wasn't that she was necessarily blue. It was more like everything in her life was radically changing. "I don't know. I guess ... the X-Files. They've been so much a part of our lives for so long. I love them. I love working on them with you. But now ... They're essentially over, aren't they?"

"I sold out ... to the highest bidder." His eyes fell on Samantha, and somehow it didn't seem like such a high price.

"Do you regret it?"

"I have my sister back, and a niece, and a brother-in-law I never knew about-"

"And lost a father, and my sister." Her voice was quiet and reminiscent.

"Do YOU regret it?"

"I have you."

The End.

Here ends The Way saga. Thanks for playing.