Title: Trovato Author: Aurora Vere Archive: Spookys, ok. Ephemeral, ok. Anywhere else, please ask. Category: VRA Rating: PG-13 Spoilers: Requiem, All Things Keywords: Scullyangst, MSR Summary: It has been four years since Mulder was taken...four years since Scully's child was born. Where is Scully now, and is there hope for Mulder, for their future, for the future of the world? Feedback: Gladly accepted at AuroraVere@aol.com. Disclaimer: They're not mine, but thank God they've finally done it. I think. Chris Carter, take a hint and turn up the heat. We'll all love you for it. ;) Author's Notes: Yes, I know. It's another post-Requiem fic, not that there are fifty billion of them out there or anything, not that you have fifty to read today. I think you might like this one, though. It's not your usual post-ep. There's an interesting little twist at the end that could bring new life to the Project. So keep reading, and please, if you like it so far, write me and encourage me to keep working on this story... there's just so little time nowadays... :) Oh, and by the way, "trovato" means "found" in Italian, just in case you might not know....but what's exactly been found? Read on and find out. :) -------------------------------------------------------------------- Trovato by Aurora Vere -------------------------------------------------------------------- "Merry Christmas, Mommy." She smiled, nuzzling the receiver in reply. "Merry Christmas, Will." The soft, high voice buzzed through the ear of the phone, bubbling with excitement. "Nana said Santa is coming to her house with lots of toys for good little boys." "Nana's right." Her smile widened. "But Nana doesn't have boys." Eyes aglow, Dana Scully checked her reflection in the mirror while grabbing her keys. "Nana has grown-up boys and girls," she reminded him gently as she knelt to pick up her overnight bag. "Does Santa bring toys for grownups too?" Her smile grew into a full-fledged grin. "Only if we're good." "Have you been good, Mommy?" She chuckled. "I guess we'll see tomorrow morning, won't we?" She heard his rapid giggle and found herself fighting one of her own. "All right, Will, Mommy's got to get off the phone now and run a few errands before we pick up Uncle Bill and Aunt Tara at the airport." She heard another voice, a muffled one, and recognized it as her mother's voice in the background. "Nana said don't be late, or you won't get your presents," he chided. Dana grinned. "Tell her I'll be there." "Okay. Merry Christmas, Mommy." "Merry Christmas." The receiver slid into the charger quietly, gently, as sudden memories flooded her thoughts. Four years. Christ, had it been that long? The hours, the days had all melted together into one mass of memories...a number of firsts, then seconds, and then more complex operations conducted by the clumsy young hands of one Charles William Scully. Then consciousness had emerged, that beautiful gift from God or the cosmos or another life more advanced than our own or whatever the hell it was that guided our lives every day of the year...the knowledge of self, of cause and effect, of right and wrong, love and fear. Then personality developed, along with Will's unquenchable thirst for answers, reading at the age of two, learning how to write and draw and communicate on surprisingly adult levels. And that inquisitive lopsided grin, that sparkling wit which indicated intelligence far beyond his years, a gift from another who shared his resemblance. What a little man he'd become, quite the spitting image... She winced. No. She would not think about that now. Hastily she turned the knob and walked into the hallway, nearly forgetting to lock the door. She had everything, didn't she? Clothes, keys, makeup, presents...? No, presents were already there. Something was missing, though. Something was always missing.... Dammit. She would *not* think about that now. * * * * Dana often wondered why she hadn't just moved the aquarium into her own apartment. Will had begged her for one. Then again, she couldn't imagine feeding Mulder's fish anywhere else but here. It was a daily ritual, usually during lunch or some remote corner of the afternoon when Dana had nothing better to do. She used it as one of her many excuses to indulge herself, if only for an hour, in a happier past. The fish seemed to like her, she noted with pleasure. Every time she neared the aquarium, they would swim in frantic circles, waving their fins as if in greeting. Will would've liked to feed them. He loved his own fish. She could just imagine the smile of discovery on his face and the burning questions that would most certainly follow-- whose fish they were, how long she was taking care of them, when their owner was coming back. Someday she would bring Will here, but not until he could understand. Not until she could find some healing. Mulder. She sank into the couch, sighing heavily. Her eyes closed, imagining him as perfectly as the day she'd last seen him, and the ache, raw starvation, clutched at her insides in desperation. Her hands ran across a dusty spot on the arm of his couch, and she sighed again, softly. It was up to her to keep him alive. * * * * * The words intoned round and round in her head like a liturgy as she dreamed of basement offices and four-hour trips in cramped, compact rentals and overhead bins that bumped her head as she stood on her tiptoes to reach that bag which may have shifted mid-flight and alternating the window seat and enjoying a brief luxury of contact with Mulder's leg in economy class.... ...the seedy motels and the air conditioning which only seemed to work in one of their rooms which necessitated opening the adjoining door and allowing temptation to roam free.... She missed the mundane, the monochromatic in life's spectrum of color. ...sitting on his couch, confiding a private moment to him over a bowl of half-burnt popcorn.... ...her head on his shoulder, faintly aware of the blanket he'd wrapped around her.... <"Scully, you won't believe me, but you're asleep and you can't argue and now the time seems as good as any to tell you...."> Yes....? <"...that I think we need to pursue other investigative avenues...with us...with you and me...."> I hear you, Mulder.... <"...I know it's unexplored territory, and incredibly risky, but I want to solve this one last mystery before I die."> Yes..... <"If you can hear me, somewhere in your sleep, I want you, Scully. Actually, it's more than want. I yearn for you."> Yes, she'd heard him...heard everything he'd said, as clear as day, even through the haze of semi-consciousness. She'd heard enough to find the strength to stop him, just as he was rising from the couch, to hold his hand and follow him to bed.... ...and then her strength had returned -- "Scully?" She winced in sleep, her forehead wrinkling. "Scully." Dana felt the briefest touch on her shoulder, and murmured incoherently in protest. "Scully, it's me." The voice was louder now, but still gentle, tender, slightly faded. "Scully, wake up. I'm back." She smiled, her eyes still fluttering mid-dream.... Another touch, this time on her cheek. "Scully." Her flesh tingled as she dreamed of Mulder's hand caressing her face, tracing the outline of her eyes, her lips.... Something was different though....pleasantly different.... his touch more real than her dreams had ever allowed in the past four years....so real that her face was singing, her flesh humming from some unknown stimulus.... And then she heard him, more real in her ears than in her head, saying her name with such gentleness that she felt the strangest compulsion to open her eyes and chance the ending of such pleasures. Then when her eyes focused on the man kneeling in front of her, caressing her face with the gentlest of motions, she felt her soul spring to life again. "Mulder...." Oh my God....he was here...finally here...back....oh sweet Jesus Mary Joseph he was back....safe....alive....thank God or alien or cosmos for bringing him back alive.... Her hands flew to him, around him, taking him in her arms. "Keeping watch, Scully?" he said, his voice cracking slightly between syllables. She smiled, clutching him to her. "Every day," she murmured. She felt him sigh as his arms possessed her, pulling her even closer. No words, silence, nothing was needed, though a million questions raced through her mind all at once. Later, she reminded herself. Later. For now it was simply enough to hold him. It was all they both needed. And then she realized something. He was cold. Christ, he was cold. "Mulder, you're freezing." She felt his forehead, frowning. "Occupational hazard," he said, his voice breaking again. She pulled away briefly, examining him with a half- clinical, half-amorous look. Gone were the days when she could separate her science from her sentiment, at least when it came to the health of her partner. Her eyes drank in the sight of him, hungrily, nourishing her soul on every pore of him. Christ, he was beautiful, though disheveled, haggard, and bone-thin...so thin that the clothes he had worn the day he'd been taken drooped wearily from his shoulders. And those eyes, those beautiful green- gray eyes, were nearly colorless, empty, with a hollowness that negated even the slightest of emotion. He looked like a soul in transition, teetering on the edge of the physical world. "Mulder," she sighed, her voice a whisper. "What did they do to you?" He blinked, his eyes nearly transparent. "Mulder..." she prompted, cradling his face in her hands. She watched him intently for seconds, minutes, until the slightest sign of human expression etched across his brow. "Tests," he rasped, wincing as his eyes lowered. "Terrible tests...." She reached for him again, pulling him to her. "They killed us," he whispered in her ear. "Exterminated us, one by one....we were evidence, Scully..." She frowned. "Evidence of what?" "....wanted to start over, clean slate...no human memories of aliens or of abductions...colonization...." He continued, oblivious to her question. "....happening now, soon...very soon..." She pulled away, steeling herself to look into his ghostly eyes. "Why didn't they kill you?" she asked him gently, feathering her fingers across his cheek. She watched him barely manage to shake his head, his eyes absently fixed on hers. "They said I was different, that I was special. That they could use me." "Use you?" She frowned. "How?" "That I could mediate, communicate between us and them... prepare the way...." She shook her head. "Mulder, what are you saying?" "They're coming, Scully. They're ready. Everything is in place." He blinked, his hollow eyes resting for only a second before fixing on her again with his distant gaze. "I saw things, heard things no one else could hear. Plans they were making. I projected my thoughts into their minds. They were confused, amazed. Scared." "Scared?" Nodding weakly, Mulder continued. "They think I'm their peer, their equal. They spared me---" he said, his voice trailing off, "---but not before they tested and poked and prodded me till I couldn't even find the strength to take a breath." Inhaling deeply, he smiled. "Damn, that feels good." Dana smiled with him, allowing him his simple luxury. "They were frightened of me," he rasped in the space between them. "They can't destroy me because I have their DNA inside me, their essence. Genetically, I'm some kind of brother to their race." Her eyes widened incredulously. "I don't know how it happened, Scully, but it happened. Something was put inside me a long time ago, and now I'm part of whatever they are, what they're made of. They can't kill their own." Her mind raced for possible answers...there were so many... the black oil, the vaccine, the rubbing, the many times he'd been captured by the Smoking Man and his shadowy cohorts.... "They want me to find the others before it's too late," he whispered, his eyes glassy. "They'll protect us, save us from annihilation and give us a place in their plans." She frowned. "What do you mean?" "Scully, we can save people. We can save the world if we can find out how to replicate whatever it is inside me, whatever I'm carrying. We can beat them at their own game, with their own rules. We just have to figure out how." For the first time in the four years he'd been away, Dana saw a faint spark in Mulder's eyes. "It's like the Project all over again, but with hope, with purpose. We can win this, Scully. We can find a way." Her eyes widened again, complete and utter disbelief washing over her. Slowly, ever so slowly, Dana shook her head in complete amazement. "How in the world will we...?" Mulder reached for her, his hands shaking from the effort. "Don't ground yourself to the world, Scully. You won't find answers here. Look how long I searched." Smiling, she nestled herself in his embrace, ignoring the eerie chill of his flesh, and pressed her lips softly to his dry, cracked ones. "Enlighten me, then," she murmured, as his mouth claimed hers hungrily. * * * * If she'd had doubts as to Mulder's humanity before, he had taken great pains and pleasures to erase them from her mind. Especially if he could read her mind. Slowly, languidly, Dana began to stretch beneath the covers of Mulder's bed, feasting her eyes on the sleeping figure next to her. How peaceful he looked, sleeping there beside her. Contented. Relaxed. Fulfilled. Satisfied. He had come back, and he had come. And now he was sleeping, possibly for the first time in years, oblivious to her loving gaze as she examined him up and down, up and down, watching him in sweet repose. There hadn't been much gentleness in his touch, no tenderness, only hunger, starvation, emptiness in need of filling, aching in need of assuaging. She'd understood; in fact, she'd welcomed his hunger, offering to nourish him, to feed him, to fill his empty soul with the love they'd only just begun to discover... As he'd filled her belly with the gift of life, she'd brought it full circle, back to the shell of her lover, her friend and partner. His skin was warm now, full of color, his temple pulsing ever so slightly with each heartbeat. Every so often he would sigh contentedly in his sleep, his lips slightly parted and trembling as if in mid-sentence. She heard her name, once, while she watched him dream, and found herself trembling unconsciously. God, how she loved him. There was so much to say to him...so much to tell him...about their work, the Files, how the DOJ had closed them down for good in Mulder's absence, claiming it an unnecessary burden on the Bureau's resources.... Christ, how would he take that news? How could she tell him she'd let it go without a fight, without a word of protest? How the memories were just too painful to continue? How she'd abandoned his quest, his cause, because she couldn't deal with the fact that she'd let him go back to Oregon without a sign of her inner reluctance? She'd caused this suffering, this plight of her lover, and she hated herself for being at fault. She wasn't supposed to be at fault. Her only salvation was Will...sweet little Will, completely innocent of everything that had happened before his birth... trusting, obedient, loving, filled with the remnants of all that was good and decent in the world.... How would Mulder take *that* news? Unless he already knew...unless he'd read her mind and knew her every thought...he claimed he could do that, why not? Why not catch up on four years' time by accessing her most hidden thoughts, her private failures, the things she could never tell her own mother? Maybe she wouldn't have to tell him after all. Sighing heavily, she snuggled closer to him, resting her head next to his, and fought back the tears that threatened to flow. He was found. He was back. He was hers. Again. After all that had happened, maybe they were both past mere words. * * * * *