Title: Uragiru
Author: penelopody
Written: July 2000
Category: case file, MSR, RST, and some angst. Rating: R + (there's sex and violence in this tale)
Spoilers: None really
Distribution: Anywhere with my name and e-mail. I'd be thrilled to bits.
Disclaimer: For the most part they aren't mine. And so I guess this is infringement. It's very sad. After all, I mean them no harm. I've developed a plan to move to Micronesia if anyone finds me out.

Summary: Someone dear to Scully is murdered. The murder effects fairly drastic change in the agents' lives. This is all entwined with a case file involving the assassination of the leader of the Japanese socialist party, a baby called Imogen, a biker called Gabe and an FBI agent called Dom. But the story belongs to Scully and Mulder, and it's all about the love. (I should have found someone else to write this summary...)

Author's notes: Truth is, I had every intention of writing a simple love story as my first foray into fanfic. Unfortunately the plot (and the angst, and the sex) hijacked me. This story is the result.

Thanks: to Ally for providing all the charming encouragement and handholding a virgin fic writer needs; to Catherine for frighteningly detailed edits and priceless commentary; also to Screwball for technical assistance; and to Tinka, cause she rocks.

And so it begins...


\\How lovely on the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news.\\

My cell phone should be a character in the movie of my life. It foreshadows change like the ubiquitous messenger in Shakespeare's plays.

"Scully." I walked out into the courtyard with my miniature messenger to my ear.

"Hey Scully, it's me."

For this conversation there was a script embedded in my brain and I followed it easily. "Mulder, where are you?"

"Telegraph Avenue. Berkeley's a fun place, Scully, you shouldn't keep yourself closeted up in academia."

"You asked me to find you a professor." I knew he would ignore me before I even spoke. Sometimes my partner is abysmally predictable.

"Can I get you something pretty, Scully? A studded collar, or one of these nice little ceramic ... uh, pots? You could put it on your dresser."

"Mulder, I'm not quite as naive as you think I am."

"A sweet Catholic girl like you? The sisters would be horrified..."

I put a halt to his line of thinking. "So, have you found your wandering conspiracy theorist yet?"

"No. Not yet. And I need to speak with him. Those DNA samples he sent... somehow he has material knowledge of the alien virus. Hey Scully, there's a tattoo parlor here. Think I should get a tattoo, to match yours? I'll show you mine-"

I blushed but didn't dignify his comment with a reply. Not that it would matter, he could probably feel the color in my face as it trickled through the airwaves. My phone chirped in my ear, and I frowned. "Mulder, I have another call."

"Who else would be calling you?" He didn't mean to be rude.

"I don't know."

"So you're dumping me," he said petulantly, and I sensed the pout. Then he switched gears. "I think I found my guy. Call me when you're done."

I flipped to the other caller. "Scully." There was an unsettling pause.

"Agent Scully, I believe you have family in Santa Cruz." Then nothing. The caller had hung up on me.

The panic started in my lungs and spread in all directions.

I have family in Santa Cruz.


\\Even death moves quietly now Soaking long sleeves in the turquoise blood Of morning\\

Unfortunately Scully hadn't called me until she was half way there and even the burst of speed which was instantly inspired by the uncontrolled panic in her voice hadn't been enough.

So, of course, I was too late.

The house nestled prettily in the Santa Cruz hills. A view of the ocean, a swing set, small pairs of shoes, if it was domestic bliss you were seeking, this might just be the place. It wasn't what I was seeking, but I wasn't immune to its charms. That is, until I noticed the obscene blaze of yellow tape. Maybe erasing a perfect life is no worse than any other slaughter, but at this moment it felt worse, especially because I knew this family.

I stepped over the yellow tape.

"Hey." Then louder, "Hey! Sir! Sir. I'm sorry, no one is allowed in here."

"FBI." I pulled out my badge and brushed the local cop out of my way.

As I opened the front door I could see she'd been here. The house seemed awash with blue, as though her eyes had bled at the sight greeting them. I ran a hand over my face to clear my head and turned to approach one of the more senior looking people.

"What happened?"

He turned. "Who are you?"

I let my anger show. "FBI. Fox Mulder. My partner, Dana Scully-" The compounded horror and pity in his face stole my words along with my anger.

"Ah geez. This is her brother's place." I nodded. I already knew.

"What happened? Where is she?"

"All four dead. Two little kids." His voice cracked. "Your partner, she found them, went in the ambulance with the wife. Nine months pregnant too. Due any day. I think your partner thought the little one might be saved."

"Where's the hospital?" I was glad that my voice didn't betray the moaning which swelled in my throat. The abacus rattling through my brain added four new people to the list of Scully family members I'd destroyed: Charlie Scully; Lanie Scully; Toby Scully; Jake Scully and then maybe this last one, not yet born.

I followed her path to the hospital, listening to her sobbing in my head, because I knew she wouldn't scream out loud.


Someone had forced her to wait outside. She looked up as I rounded the corner. It is hard to imagine that eyes the color of those could ever look dead. But when someone has killed your brother, your sister-in- law, your two little nephews, eyes shaded with death is definitely an acceptable option.

I knelt in front of her, leveling our faces.

"Scully." She looked away quietly. I had no idea what to say beyond her name so we stayed like that in silence for several minutes, a frozen goddess and supplicant. Eventually my knees began to distract me from her pain so I lifted myself off the floor and sat beside her.

I was surprised when she started speaking. "They weren't involved with us. I don't understand it. I tried to keep everyone out of it. But they were all dead. I had to check. It took so long to check - and it didn't matter because they were dead before I got there."

"Oh, Scully."

"I don't even know what to hope for- this baby. It will be- Charlie and Lanie are gone, and Toby and Jake. It starts its life so far behind." I reached for her hand, hating how she was stumbling over her words. Her hand shook in mine. Part of me was horrified at this evidence of her fragility, her humanity. The other part was overjoyed that she let me touch any part of her.

The door swung open. "Miss Scully?" Scully stood up. The doctor's eyes were a strange brew of sorrow and triumph. "The baby is alive. A little girl. She's still in critical care but we think she'll make it." Scully took a shuddering breath.

"Can I see her?"

"Yes."

Her eyes flickered briefly to mine as she followed the doctor.


We had the funeral in Santa Cruz. Four coffins planted in the rough earth overlooking the sea. My baby brother had left the navy but he was never going to leave the sea. I stood with his baby daughter in arm. In just six days she had become thoroughly enamored of me. My feelings about her weren't so unequivocal. But she was an effective armor against the tears that threatened at every breath.

In an unexplored way she stilled my heart.

Mom sobbed helplessly as the coffins were lowered one by one. She had scarcely known her grandsons. Charlie had made no effort to include the extended family in his blissfully happy years with Lanie. I think he felt sorry for me so I had been allowed to visit at times. It was generous of him to open his little piece of joy to me, although it was only in the strictest confidence. I felt like a stranger as the earth was shoveled into place.

Bill and Tara were showing heretofore unimagined restraint. They hadn't said a thing about the baby and while Bill had turned blazing eyes on Mulder, he had seemed satisfied to wrap a long arm around Mom and keep his peace.

The priest finished and people began to leave. Ultimately I was left almost alone. Of course, Mulder was still there. I had felt his eyes fixed on the back of my head throughout the service. I had tried not to shift in my seat, despite the fact that he made me feel like I was in the sights of a sniper. I have often considered wearing Kevlar permanently. Now he approached gingerly, shifting from foot to foot, not knowing if he should be there. I saw him reach into the recesses of his brain for something appropriate to say but I interrupted him summarily.

"Scully, I-" His eyes were eucalyptus smoke and they blended into the hills in the background.

"I'll be back at the hotel tonight. I can't stay at the house. But I need to spend some time with Mom and the family."

"OK. Can I drive you there?" He sounded so much like a fourteen-year- old asking for a date that I felt a twinge at rejecting him.

"No. Bill's taking me. I'll speak to you later."

"OK. I'll wait for you." He stepped back without looking at the baby.


The local response to Charlie, Lanie, Toby and Jake's deaths was overwhelming. My family stood nervously in one corner of the house as Charlie's community comforted one another with tear-stained embraces. After a brief squall the baby had fallen asleep in what was to have been her room. Without her I felt naked, and the garish horror I had witnessed in this house assaulted my unprotected senses. I shut my eyes and felt my way into the back yard. The sky was clear and the moon was reflected on the swelling ocean. Its silver blue cooled my sight and I sat in one of the plastic outdoor chairs, breathing deeply.

It was hard not to long for Mulder's presence, although I was well aware that in all probability my family's deaths were horribly entwined in his life's work. Ultimately I gave up trying and imagined that he sat by me. A stranger distracted me from my reverie.

"Hey."

I said nothing and after a brief pause he continued bravely. "I'm Gabe Duncan, Lanie's brother." I felt my eyes soften at his introduction. "I need to talk to you about Lanie and Charlie's baby."

I looked at him and wiped my eyes a little self-consciously. "I'm sorry. I just needed to be out of there for a while and-"

"You found them here, didn't you." I nodded reluctantly, a little taken aback to see such intensity and understanding in eyes that were gray and not hazel.

"Do you want to sit out here?" I asked. He folded himself into another plastic chair and considered me for a moment. I was amazed to see that his gaze held no anger toward me, although he must have known that death and destruction were not following me arbitrarily.

Finally he broke the silence. "I don't know if you're aware that Lanie and Charlie had named you as guardian of their boys, if anything happened to them." I wasn't aware, and I'm sure I looked it. "They named me too. They might have changed their will since Lanie got pregnant again, but I'm thinking that-"

"We'll probably be her guardians."

Such symmetry.

"Yeah." In the moment of quiet that followed this revelation I took in his roughly bearded face, tank top and black jeans. He probably had a black leather jacket to complete the look. He was not a typical father figure - but he seemed real.

"OK," I said eventually, shakily.

"I know you probably don't want to think about this right now, but we do need to work it out."

"Of course," I murmured. His eyes shifted to mine for a moment.

"Dana, umm- the thing is, I don't have any other siblings. And Lanie and Charlie, they wouldn't want Bill and Tara to look after their little girl. They trust y- trusted you." The slip made him wince. "And me I guess. And- I know neither of us is married but they still - it's what they wanted."

"All right." I wanted to sound more enthusiastic, or just more hopeful, but it was beyond me for the moment. "I need to think about this. It's come as rather a shock and I need to think about what I can do, what I should do." He glanced at me sharply, and, for the first time, I saw irritation in his expression.

"That's fine, but you realize we do need to work this out. There's a baby without a family or a home and we need to give her one."

I was startled into raising my voice. "I know! Don't think I don't know about her. She's been with me constantly the last six days. She's just a little thing, she's lost so much. I look at her and my heart hurts." I was crying now. "But I saw my brother and his whole family murdered in this perfect place. She could have grown up here, with them. And - it's very likely they were killed because of me. I can't bear to know that. How can I look at her and not see what has happened here? How can I expect her not to hate me for this?" I couldn't say any more. I couldn't believe I'd said so much. After all, it was his sister too.

He filled the silence gently. "You can help me replace what she's lost."

I closed my eyes and thought for a long moment then turned to him. "Right, you're right. Let's talk this out."

"Now?" he asked.

"Sure."


Scully arrived at the motel at three a.m., by which time I had given up being sick with worry and was just sick. She didn't appear surprised to find me sleepless in her room, so I assumed she had wanted to torture me. Which seemed fair enough when I considered it. I stood and watched her. I had become accustomed to her accessorizing with the baby, so I noted its absence with surprise. Scully avoided my eyes and sat on her bed, tugging off her shoes. I was nervous and silence did not come naturally, so I gave in and spoke first.

"You OK, Scully?"

I saw her tongue form her familiar response and then bite it back. "I need to talk to you about something, Mulder."

As much as her empty repetition of 'I'm fine' had infuriated me, I wished for its return. "What is it?"

"Mulder-" Her somewhat excessive use of my name only added to my trepidation and made my voice Skinner-like, low and censorious.

"Tell me."

She bit her lip and frowned. Finally it all tumbled out in free fall. "I'm going to leave the bureau. At least for a time. I need to look after the baby- Imogen."

"You named her?"

"With Gabe. She's Imogen Lanie Charles Scully." She looked at me, as though seeking approval for the odd use of her brother's name. I liked it, but there were other matters on my mind. As usual I focused on the least of those.

"And Gabe is?"

"Lanie's brother. He and I are her- the baby's- Imogen's guardians. He's going to move to Northern Virginia. We're going to live there and look after her. That's what we've planned."

"You're leaving the X-Files." It had finally made its way to my central nervous system and I sank into the hotel room chair.

"Yes, Mulder. I have to. I can't look after her otherwise."

Our being here was proof enough of that, so I nodded. A Greek chorus rose up in some overly dramatic part of my mind. Their wailing distracted me long enough for her to leave.


Eight Months Later-

\\I try not to consider How each cell recalls you One to another\\

Imogen was a highly effective alarm clock. They should sell an Imo 2000 model in K-Mart. Unfortunately I would sometimes wake to her caterwauling and reach for my gun. Hard to resist long formed habits.

I stumbled into her room.

"Morning, possum."

With her honey colored sleeper and round gray eyes, she fitted the endearment neatly. Her baby warmth served to quash my irritation at the early morning wake up call I never requested. She nestled sweetly at my side as we headed for the kitchen. Changing her diaper, warming milk, listening to her possum-babble - the new habits were certainly prettier than those I was slowly ridding myself of. Well, the diaper changing wasn't pretty, but even that was an improvement on the majority of X-Files.

Still it was much too early. Morning sun was only now peering through the windows, almost parallel to the earth. Gabe and I had managed to secure a 40s style painted brick and tile house, with an ugly back garden that I was steadily making worse, much to my disappointment.

By seven Gabe was up, and he and Imogen whisked away to share a shower.

I made myself coffee, and the world began to brighten. I stretched languidly and briefly considered spending the day with Gabe and Imo, rather than caught up in my steadily burgeoning doctor's practice. Of course, good sense, and the burden of renting a house would prevail, but it was tempting.

Gabe began singing in the shower - some Eagles song that I didn't know the words to. I looked around my kitchen and started to put away the dishes from last night. Perfect house, perfect job, perfect baby (and she was perfect), perfect live-in biker techie brother-in-law- what more could a woman want?

Some part of me was aware that I had once been battling an international government conspiracy, whose aims might foreseeably encompass the extinction of humankind. However, any sign of this had been neatly swept aside. To all appearances I had become a model of domesticity. Part of me wondered if I'd also become someone he would despise.

I was not referring to Gabe.


After an unsuccessful run of female agents (if I didn't terrify them, they reminded me of Scully and hence terrified me), I had a new partner. In blatant disregard of all probabilities, and despite his name, Dominic Domenico seemed to be the real deal: an FBI agent who wasn't swimming in the highly attractive twin lakes of death and duplicity. I was beginning to think such agents a rare breed. Perhaps the consortium had run out of lackeys. Perhaps they had more important matters to attend to. More likely they'd wearied of me. I could certainly understand that.

At six foot three and 210 pounds, Dom reminded me of Scully only on rare occasions. He was amenable and intelligent and he and I had reached an almost friendly truce. Clause One stated that any hint of a whisper about the Scully family murders was to be chased down immediately. Unfortunately the whispers were few and far between, so I was surprised when Dom set a crime report on my desk. The layers of appropriate FBI concern etched into his face were belied by the proud gleam in his eyes.

I glanced down. The report was dated six days before the murders and referred to a completely different set of deaths. Jim and Alysia Pulver, 33 and 34, of Denver, Colorado. I flipped through the pages, which included a listing of the numbers called from the home of the murdered couple. Dom had highlighted a telephone number in green - Santa Cruz area code. Home of Charles and Lanie Scully.

No one believes in coincidences any more.


I picked up the cell phone on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Scully, it's me." Mulder's G-man voice took me aback. Months away from the FBI had allowed me to become a little more personable. At least I said 'Hello' now, and often 'Goodbye' too. He felt the strangeness and reeled it in a fraction.

"How's Charlie?"

"She's fine, great." I smiled. I had been surprised when Mulder continued to call the baby by my brother's name; it was unlike him not to attempt to bury my sorrows along with his own. I found it strangely sweet. "I'd let you speak to her, but she's showering with Gabe."

He didn't comment on the fact that the possum didn't speak, and just blew spit bubbles into the receiver. Obviously the small talk was over. "I've got something you need to see. Dom found it."

"It being?"

"I can't tell you over the phone."

"About Charlie." I was referring to my brother, as Mulder knew.

"Yeah." I was surprised. After eight months, I was beginning to believe the trail was frozen solid. I had almost resigned myself to not knowing why four more members of my family had died. Almost.

I thought about my patients. "Do you want me to come in to DC?"

"No, I can meet you out in suburbia. You working?"

"Yes. Gabe has Imo."

"I'll come to your office then- if that's OK?" It was odd that his slightly hesitant question saddened me. He was less sure of me than he had been.

"Of course. I'll be done about three or so."

"Good. I have some things to look into. Then I'll be there."


I left Dom behind when I went to visit the Gunmen. It had taken a while for them to warm to Scully, and Dom didn't have her natural- well whatever it was that encouraged the ceaseless devotion of men like Frohike, Langly and Byers, Skinner and Pendrell to name a few. (Reasons for my devotion were not to be discussed at this time.)

In any case, the Gunmen were paranoid conspiracy theorists and I had to respect these lifestyle choices.

Not unexpectedly the Gunmen provided me with the access I needed. Embarrassing that the FBI should turn to three computer geeks for information - but such is the way of this brave new world. We searched for any and all links between Charlie and Lanie Scully and Jim and Alysia Pulver, Dom's murdered couple. Neither of the Pulvers was ever in the navy. Charlie had quit the navy and become a building contractor. Lanie was an accountant. Jim was a senior paralegal in a large law firm. Alysia was a travel agent. Charlie grew up all over the country. Lanie grew up in Pacific Grove, California. Jim grew up and remained in Denver, Colorado. Alysia grew up in small town Louisiana. It was aggravating.

"Alysia Pulver's dad was military. Walter Barnard," said Byers eventually.

"Navy?"

"Nope, Special Forces."

"Contact with William Scully, Senior?"

"Give me a moment-" I walked around to look over his shoulder at the screen. "Can't find any."

"How about Lanie's dad. Robert Duncan?"

"He was military too?"

"No idea."

There was another brief pause. Then the screen flashed generously. There was a connection. Robert Duncan and Walter Barnard had served together in the Special Forces. I felt guilty because my first thought was one of hope. Incredibly this might not be about Scully. Heck, this might not be about me. The relief that pattered through my neurons was hardly appropriate to the circumstances.


I'm sure my reputation as a doctor of sensitivity and concern was tarnished that day as I flew through my appointments. My last patient had left ten minutes before the receptionist called to tell me with the hint of a giggle that a Mr. Fox Mulder was here to see me.

"Hey Scully."

"Hi. How are you?"

"Good. You?"

"Fine."

It had been almost a month since I'd seen him. As always I felt the pain in him, and my joints ached with the need to trim his torn edges and glue him back together. Other parts of my body ached with a different need. But I had long ago learned to curb all of these responses to his lean, charcoal suited form, and the man that lurked beneath.

He closed the door quietly.

"I never suspected domesticity would suit you so well. You make quite the working mother." His eyes left little doubt as to whether he appreciated the svelte suit I had decidedly not chosen for his benefit.

"Well, it's a combination of that and having a desk of my own," I countered. He gave me half a smile.

"And Charlie's fine?"

"Yep." Mulder was playing this much more tentatively than he used to - but the swarm of butterflies in my stomach objected to my requesting the new information Mulder had uncovered.

"She's wonderful, perfect, always happy." When I was away from her my recollection was a little cloudy and she seemed faultless.

"And you? You happy, Scully?"

I looked up at him and his serious gaze resonated in my lungs and almost betrayed me into letting a river of Hallmark moments flood the gates. How can I be happy? I miss you every second. I can't breathe without you- But I'm not really a Hallmark kind of woman. Still it was impossible to brush that look away with a platitude.

"Mostly. Sometimes. Imogen makes me happy, and I don't mind working here. I've made friends. Some. Imogen makes me really happy."

He made an unintelligible noise at the back of his throat. I felt the slow burn of his look low in my abdomen, and it made me business-like.

"You wanted to show me something?"

"Yeaah." He drew it out lazily. I could hear the 'I'll show you mine' that he didn't bother to say and I rolled my eyes at him. He grinned, caught, then stepped up to the desk for show and tell.

His voice was quiet. "Another couple was murdered six days before Charlie's family were." His gaze flickered to mine, reassuring himself that I was coping adequately with the conversation. I'd had ten minutes alone to steel myself so I nodded. "This couple, Jim and Alysia Pulver, called someone at Lanie and Charlie's place a number of weeks earlier."

"What was the connection?"

"Lanie's father and Alysia Pulver's father were in the same unit in Special Forces."

"Oh." Somehow it hadn't occurred to me that Lanie was involved at all. I knew it hadn't occurred to Mulder either. It wasn't narcissism - just statistical likelihood. So many bad things seemed to revolve around us that I'd almost forgotten evil could continue outside our sphere. Not that it made the end result any better.

"Do you know anything else yet?"

"Not really. The Gunmen are looking into missions Captain Duncan and Major Barnard were jointly involved in. They're keeping their eyes open for anything unusual. I just wanted to fill you in about this early on."

"Thank you." We were silent for a moment. Then we turned to one another. Our movements and thinking mirrored, like synchronized swimmers, synchronized swimmers in a mind numbing panic. We were clearly thinking the same thing.

Gabe- and Imogen.

There was no answer when we called my place. There was, however, an answer at the Gunmen's and the information they'd managed to piece together did nothing to reassure us.


Scully streaked out of the car before I'd come to a halt.

"Gabe!"

I was three steps behind her. We tumbled into the back yard. Scully stopped abruptly and I almost steamrolled her. Gabe was working on his Harley, with Imogen rolling about happily in the grassed interior of an enormous playpen. He looked up with a smile.

"Hey."

"You didn't answer the phone." Scully was breathless.

"You can't hear it out here, Dane. Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," replied Scully weakly. "Sorry."

I was trying to be subtle as I replaced my SIG in its holster. Gabe eyed me a little warily.

"Hey Mulder. It's been a while."

The only thing I didn't like about Gabe was that he got to spend more time with Scully than I did.

"Yeah. Too long." I approached the playpen with caution. There was a time when Imogen Scully had hollered at the sight of anything that moved, other than Scully or Gabe. For now, she just looked up at me sideways from her rather awkward position draped over an orange foam building brick. I glanced briefly back at Scully, who was leaning on the porch railing in the sun, then ducked down to talk to her baby, leaving Scully to do the dirty work.

"Hey Charlie." The little gray-eyed monster considered me briefly then made a fairly effective attempt to crawl over to the edge of her pleasant little prison. She grabbed the bars determinedly.

"She'll need a hand," said Scully quietly from behind me. So I reached in and helped her to stand. She wobbled on her tiptoes as she smiled at me, then tilted her head to one side speculatively. It was her adopted mother all over again. I was of course a helpless slave. I wanted to take a photograph so I could pull it out and say - there! This is why I'm bewitched. This is why I follow Scully women around the world and further - well at least, one Scully woman so far, and now more than likely two.

I didn't know if this was good news or bad. Maybe it wasn't even news.


I watched with pleasure as my possum baby charmed the socks off six feet of mistrust. I suppose he was more than that - brilliant, intense, passionate- and so on. I clamped down on that thought and walked over to Gabe.

"We need to talk to you." I looked around and figured outside was really as safe as anywhere. I leaned against the Harley. My suit probably looked a little out of place but after living with a bike for eight months I was comfortable. Mulder stopped flirting with Imogen and eyed the Harley and me discerningly.

"Never saw you as a biker chick, Scully. Leather pants, leather jacket. It's so you."

Gabe interrupted this time. "What's going on, Dana?"

"Do you know Alysia Pulver?" Gabe frowned. "She was Alysia Barnard before she got married."

"Oh, sure. She was an old family friend. I think I saw her at Lanie and Charlie's wedding."

"How about Jeff White- Jeff Hayes until his parents divorced?"

"Same deal. We played together as kids."

"And Cynthia Aguirre, Socorro Aguirre, Ana-Lucia Aguirre?"

"Sure-" Gabe narrowed his eyes. No one said live-in biker techie brothers-in-law were stupid, necessarily. "This about Lanie and Charlie?"

"Yeah." I said softly. "Gabe, in the last nine months almost all of those people have been killed. Them and their families with them."

"Jesus," he breathed.

I looked over at Imogen. She had sensed the atmosphere and was regarding us with trepidation.

Mulder continued for me. "We haven't been able to find Socorro Aguirre, so we can't confirm his survival."

"You think whoever this is will come after me too?"

"Yeah."

"And Imo?"

"They might not know she exists. But yeah." I moved to the playpen and picked up the possum baby. She clung to me more than usual. I took a moment to swell with secret pride. She's an inordinately intelligent girl.

Gabe spoke up. "I know where Socorro Aguirre's living."

Mulder and I turned as one. "Where?"

"Near Norfolk."

"Can you contact him?"

"No, I'd have to go there. He's umm- shy."

"Then let's get going." I spoke with certainty. Mulder and Gabe turned to look at me and the affixed baby. I paused. Gabe knew where they were headed and Mulder was the FBI agent. It made sense. I tried not to sulk. This was the choice every super-hero mom had to make at some time or other: the kid, or the rest of the world. I sighed and nodded. "OK, fine. Imogen and I'll be here."

"Will you be safe here?" asked Gabe, sensibly.

Mulder glanced at me and spoke gently. "You can go to my place."

I thought about the havoc Imogen could wreak in a place like his, particularly if she was in hurricane-baby mode. I thought of the havoc being in his place again could wreak on my closely guarded peace of mind. Hurricane Mulder.

"We'll be alright here. It's more baby friendly - and they haven't found us yet. No reason to think they'll do so today."

Mulder looked at me doubtfully. "I'll send Dom over to look out for you."

"I'll be OK, Mulder. I'm armed."

Gabe raised his eyebrows - he hadn't known I was maintaining weaponry in the house. I looked at him somewhat apologetically, not precisely sure what he was thinking. He responded with the warm gray glance I had come to know well. I briefly wondered whether Mulder had noticed the unspoken language Gabe and I had developed. My psychic talents used to be reserved for him alone.

Of course he noticed.

"Right, we'll keep in touch, Scully." I guessed he was planning to send Dom over anyway, but I didn't protest further.

Gabe kissed Imogen and squeezed my hand before he headed toward the car. "Take care, Dana."

"You too. I need you back." I felt Mulder's dark look. I had never told Mulder I needed him. I reached out and sent him messages with my eyes - but our communications had become a little cloudy and it really wasn't the time for semantics.

Imogen started sobbing as they drove away - little baby sobs that shook her little baby body.

"It's OK, possum. It's OK."

It was probably hunger, or boredom or a dirty diaper - but I felt like she was channeling me.


Scully watched us leave. It almost undid me. Hours later I had this indelible impression of her composed figure as she viewed our passage. She was Penelope - or maybe some less romantic mythological heroine.

Gabe looked relaxed and comfortable. Come to think of it, Gabe was the kind of guy who always looked relaxed and comfortable. I figured he could stroll into a White House function in his leather jacket and black jeans and no one would bat an eye. His glance was unnerving, but that was only because I'd seen how he looked at Scully. It seemed unfair to me that he had been by her side all this time - but I could have chosen differently. I could have visited more often. Odd to realize that even sublime relationships are so influenced by mundane activity.

"Tell me more about Socorro Aguirre," I said, grasping at my FBI agent status.

He didn't answer for a moment and I forced myself to remember that Scully thought this man uncannily perceptive. When he did speak it wasn't to answer my brusque question.

"Y'know, before moving in with Dana and Imo I was on the move a lot. I don't think my name's been on a rental agreement for six or seven years. The work I do isn't tied to any place and the people I contract for pay me through my holding company on the web. It's a small company - and when we incorporated in Delaware the front for the company was this friend of mine, Kalia. She died in a bike accident two years back and I never changed the information. We were kind of private people."

I heard the sadness in his soft voice. I also got his point - Gabriel Duncan would be difficult to find.

"Scully's on the rental agreement now, I guess."

He nodded. "My mother always thought the way I lived would be the death of me," he commented with irony.

We drove in silence for a time. It occurred to me that this man had lost as much as I had - and he hadn't been forewarned of it either. I wondered, probably unfairly, how he kept self-hatred at bay. I shouldn't assume that my response is the ideal.

"So, Socorro Aguirre?" I prompted.

"Yeah yeah. OK. Socorro's a little weird." I made no comment about pots and kettles - it's always been so hard to tell who has the market on strangeness in my life. "He lives in backwater Virginia in this tiny place. I have to say I hate that I'm taking you to him. He's not going to like it. He has this thing about government agents"

Great.

As we pulled up outside Socorro Aguirre's tiny shack, I tried to rid my mind of all G-man thoughts. I wanted to give the impression that I had never been inside the Hoover building. Even better, I wanted to give the impression I had never been anywhere near DC at all.

Gabe thumped on the door with one fist. There was a long pause.

"Who is it?"

"It's Gabe Duncan, Socorro. I need to speak with you."

The door opened a crack and the growl gained some direction. "Who's with you?"

"My name's Fox Mulder."

He eyed us speculatively. "You're FBI." I guess I'm not as good an actor as I'd thought. "I read about you somewhere. Come on in."

Gabe's eyebrows twitched fractionally, but otherwise he gave no indication of his surprise. I followed him through the door.


I chose to ignore the dark gathering outside, and the fear gathering in my limbs. Instead, the possum and I took a bubble bath. Steamy air and a wriggling wet baby distracted one part of my mind from the circumstances. Distraction may be the better part of valor. Of course, I had my gun at hand.

Later, Imogen slept soundly. Her foray into psychic baby seemed to have ended, and she looked perfectly serene. I headed into the living room where I sat and watched the corners. Dom had called and would be heading our way once his own little ones were tucked up safe in their beds. Until then we were alone.

The cell phone trilled and I smiled in relief.

"Mulder?" Before I'd finished the name I knew it wasn't him. You would think I might have learned.

"Agent Scully." It wasn't a question so I didn't answer. "You'll be pleased to know that the little girl is safe. He doesn't know she exists." I imagined the voice was attempting to reassure me, but it wasn't working for him. His next comment proved my instincts right. "However, we know she exists. And we would feel quite content to let him know."

"Who are you?" Not the most original question, but rather an essential one.

"We were unfortunate witnesses to the sad activities in Santa Cruz."

"You called me then."

"Yes. We want to help you. We did some work on the hospital records after the little one was born."

"So he can't find us."

"That is our hope. However, as I said, we will tell him about her, unless you agree to assist in one small matter."

I was silent. Very few people safely navigate deals with disembodied voices.

"We need you to prevent Agent Mulder from uncovering the perpetrator."

This was their 'small matter? Frustratingly the voice couldn't sense my raised eyebrows. "And how do you suggest I do this?" I didn't want to indicate any acquiescence, but I couldn't think what else to ask.

"You will know what to do."

"I won't do it." I spoke quietly, with little assurance.

"If you help us in this matter, we will not reveal the child's existence. Otherwise-." The call was disconnected. Clearly the disembodied voice had a sense of the dramatic.

I sat for nearly an hour in dry-eyed silence. My mind was skittering between rational thought and an irritating panic. Even while I carefully considered my available options, the motives for the caller's requests, the process of detection open to me, Imogen and Mulder floated through my heart, tugging me in opposing directions. Mulder, probably my dearest friend, and possibly closer than that, whose trust was so hard won and guarded so closely in my soul. Imogen who was eight months old, who needed my care, and who loved me unconditionally, as I did her. I had seen what this person could do to an ex-navy man and his entire family. And wasn't protecting Imogen the whole point of this new life?

The choice might be less complicated than I hoped, but it left me screaming internally.

I was pleased that I didn't start when Dom hammered on the door. My anonymous caller had added to my sense of security, even if not my peace of mind. I stepped aside to let Dom in. He and I had always given each other a wide berth. I imagine he was afraid he might damage me. I was afraid that I might like him.

"Hi Sc- Agent Scully." He was nothing if not sweet.

"You can call me Dana, Dom."

"Sure." He smiled. "How's your little baby doing?"

"She's fine, Dom, fine. We both are." He looked awkward standing on the steps. "Thank you for coming. Please come in."

I set Dom up in Gabe's bedroom for the night. Gabe wouldn't mind, and it was closer to Imogen and me than any other room in the place.

I glanced in at the possum baby as I headed to my room. Awake she was a delight - entertaining, challenging and almost always adorable - but asleep all I could do for her was protect her from monsters, wherever they lurked.

Even if in protecting her I created new monsters.


I was woken by the telephone. It was not yet light but my first thought was that Imo 2000 should have woken me by now. I hit the talk button as I hurtled out of my room.

"Scully, it's me."

"Mulder." I entered the living room to find Imogen happily snuggled up with Dom. His size didn't seem to bother her as she cooed and flirted outrageously. I smiled at him. Mulder was talking.

"I'm sorry, Mulder. What did you say?"

"Are you and Charlie doing OK?"

"We're fine. Dom's here. What's going on?"

"We found the man we were looking for. And we also found some information." I was glad Mulder was playing paranoid conspiracy guy and not mentioning specifics. Most likely someone was listening in. "The other two guys are about to head for-." A single separated moment and then an explosion so loud in my ear I was almost knocked back.

"God, Mulder!"

There was a strangled noise and then. "Scully, I'll call you back." His voice sounded hollow in my head.


I'd been looking out the window when Socorro had inserted the key in the ignition of his Subaru. Gabe had been reaching for the passenger door. I had watched as his body was thrown toward me, and for a fraction of a second I saw Scully's face as I informed her that this man, who had become an integral part of her new life, was dead. Then the FBI autopilot took over. I said something to Scully which was probably not reassuring. I called the paramedics. I kept Gabe alive for seventeen minutes until, finally, I heard the sirens approaching. I called Scully from the ambulance.

"Mulder, what happened?" She picked up the phone before the first ring.

I needed to give her the facts, although Gabe was lying before me with half a face. I tuned my eyes to the equipment surrounding him and drew a breath.

"There was a bomb in Socorro's car. Socorro was killed. Gabe was standing right there." I could hear her crumbling. "He's still alive but he's badly burned. It looks pretty awful, Scully, but he's OK right now."

"God. God. Gabe." Dom was making soothing noises in the background, whether to Scully or Imogen I didn't know. Of course, she composed herself splendidly. "Where are you? I'll come down." I should have known that would come next.

"I don't think that's really wise. I want to keep him under guard here and I won't release his name. It may be that the killer was aiming for Socorro alone and your arrival might tip him off to Gabe's identity. And if the killer already knows then I don't want you to show the extent of your connection with Gabe and therefore the extent of Imogen's connection with Gabe."

Scully's arguments died. "Okay." She hated submitting like this, but it was Imogen.

"I'll stay with Gabe for a while, then I'm coming back to you. I need your help, Scully." I need you.


I hadn't noticed Dom's heavy hand on my shoulder until my line to Mulder was disconnected. I turned to him briefly. "There was an explosion. Gabe's hurt. Socorro's dead."

"Mulder's OK?"

"Yeah." I looked over at Imogen who had pulled herself up on the couch and was standing there, proudly gripping the olive green fabric in her little hands. Sad that she should be making this many advances when I was so distracted I could scarcely smile. I scooped her up and kissed her.

"You're an amazing girl, poss. I'm so proud of you."

I sat on the floor with her and she held my fingers and made little wobbly stepping motions on her tiptoes. All I could do was wish Gabe were there.


I arrived at Scully's place after ten that night. Gabe had stabilized and was breathing for himself. His burns were severe, but he was going to survive. At least he was going to survive this particular incident.

Dom was lying on the couch in the living room. The TV flickered noiselessly as he eyed the door warily.

"Just me." I spoke quietly. "Where's Scully?"

"She went to bed. She's exhausted."

"Right." I looked at her closed door.

"She'd want you to at least look in."

I nodded, trying to conceal my need to see her, and headed for her room.

Scully lay crosswise on her bed. She had undressed to her black bra and slip before collapsing. I shut the door silently. I did want to leave her to sleep but the naked expanse of her creamy back was calling to me in a tone I could not ignore. I stood still, caught in the kind of lost time event that usually occurs on a highway in middle America. Then I heard her breath catch in her throat. My soul reached for her before my body could. And I was undone. Again.

"Scully."

She made an indistinct noise and I approached her and crouched beside her head. I had thought her to be crying, but tears hadn't assuaged the burning eyes she turned on me. I found the hand closest to me with mine.

"Gabe's going to be OK. He'll be home in a day or two."

She blinked and then nodded slowly like a little girl. I couldn't stand it. I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into my arms.

She succumbed almost graciously.

Her body was disarmingly small and sweet. For one pure moment I didn't even realize that I was holding a largely unclad Special Agent Dr. Dana Scully. Then I noticed.

Her skin was soft beneath my wrists and hands. I bent to breathe in her hair and felt my lungs unravel.

Oh yeah. I noticed alright.


I could hear him in my head. - This is all I know, and all I need know. -

It was like the scene in a movie when they speed all the background action up - or slow it down, I've forgotten which, leaving the protagonists in a bubble of their own breath. I slowly breathed him into my lungs. My eyes slid over his scruffy hair, his jaw line, his curved lips, his eyes. Oh God, those eyes. As the green in them swirled and darkened I recalled why I was avoiding his eyes.

There was no other road diverging into the wood, just the one.

And it was in this wood that our bodies met.

All the while I was watching lust and treachery entwine in my veins. Because I knew I was going to fuck him and I knew I was going to betray him. The knowledge made every movement tainted. Every second that his tongue was in my mouth felt like the last second. And unfortunately the desperation instilled by that made me wet with desire.

But I let it happen. More than that, I initiated and inspired and begged and fought my way through the night. And every time I came I nearly wept because it wasn't supposed to be this way.

And yet it was so good.


\\I want you. It's the stupid details that my heart is breaking for. It's the way your shoulders shake, and what they're shaking for.\\

In the pale light of early morning Scully looked like a reflection of herself, all silver and ethereal. I watched as she pulled a skin-tight tank over her head and bent to find her silk pajama pants. As always, with her, it was an effortless seduction. She started out the door and I tried to ask her to stay, reaching out a hand and making some nonsensical noise. One night with her and I couldn't form a sentence.

"I'm just going for Imogen."

Oh right. Imogen.

It was almost twenty-five minutes before the tension got to me and I had to see what they were up to. I found them in the kitchen. The little one seemed quite happy to be imprisoned in a high chair with a bottle of milk and bright plastic bricks. Scully was harder to read. She held a cup of coffee in two hands and the morning sun slid across her face as she turned away from the window.

"Coffee?"

"Thanks." I grabbed a steaming mug from the counter. She had obviously been expecting me. It seemed unfair that she should be able to predict my actions when I had no idea what she would do. She met my eyes and the air between us burned for a long moment. Then she looked down.

"Tell me what you and Gabe learned." I was slightly irritated by her dictatorial tone. She faltered slightly. "Please, Mulder." I didn't understand her disquiet but I allowed the warm glow in my body to escape slowly and nodded.

Maybe she felt my warmth flow past her because she looked at me for a brief moment with undiminished desire. Then she noticed me watching her and it was gone.

I sorted the story in my head. "Socorro was something of a - he was obsessive. And early on he'd wanted to follow in his father's very admirable footsteps and join Special Forces. He was deeply upset when they rejected him."

"Psych tests?"

"It's pretty hard to get rejected from Special Forces for a psych test. But I think it was a combination of that and lack of the necessary physical prowess. He lived with his parents until his father died. And on his deathbed his father revealed something about a mission code named Uragiru. Socorro closeted himself away in nowhere land after that. But he managed to gather information about his father's career. I got to review some of it, but Socorro kept the rest buried somewhere off-site. It's a lot of information. The Gunmen were green when I talked to them to get it verified."

I watched her watch me as I talked, and tried to behave as I always had, like nothing had changed. But things had changed.

"And Uragiru? Was it important?"

"Yeah, it was. You've heard of Inajiro Asanuma." Scully frowned. "Leader of the socialist party in Japan."

"Right. He was assassinated in the 60s. Something to do with U.S- Japan relations." I nodded. The woman knew everything.

"1960 to be exact, by one of his own, a young socialist extremist. The official motive given for this boy's act was that he disagreed with his leader's views on a treaty between Japan and the US."

"Which is relevant because?"

"Our friends in the Special Forces were there. All of them. And according to Socorro's father, they were the ones who turned the boy against Asanuma."

"And now the boy's back for revenge?"

I was overjoyed by the skepticism in her voice, so very normal.

"Actually- he died. But not before he swore to repay every one of the men involved in his treachery."

Scully almost smiled at that. I felt her mind cycling through the options she knew I was considering. It was a heady feeling to have Scully back in my brain; especially knowing what she could do to that brain, and other parts of me, should she so desire. I stepped nearer to her, thirsting to run my lips over her face once more and drink her in. A thump and a yelp in the living room indicated that Dom was awake, and that he was unfamiliar with the furniture. He appeared before Scully and I could completely move apart and glared at us with dark eyes. Scully looked a little defensive and gathered Imogen from the high chair, settling her on her hip.

"I take it you slept well," Dom muttered.

Scully looked at me over the baby's head and smiled and for a time I saw the light that I had always hoped to see in her after a night like ours. Dom glowered some more. I guess he felt left out.


Dom took Imogen to the Hoover building. I didn't like leaving her with anyone, but she already adored Dom and he promised to sit in the day care center with her all day. He didn't like leaving Mulder and me together, but he had few options. We needed to speak with someone, and it was a man I knew well.

General Peter Sewell attended my parent's wedding forty-one years ago. At the time he was a second lieutenant, two years later he had been made a captain and was on his way to the top. He was also something of a scientific genius. He and my father had remained friends throughout my father's life, and even now he visited my mother with regularity. But the reason he interested us now was that three years ago he had come knocking at Socorro Aguirre's front door. And the fifth word out of his mouth was 'Uragiru'.

We were certainly intending to speak with him.

The hour-long drive to Waldem Military Base had the painful sweetness of Mass, or that of making perfect incisions in a human body. Beside me, Mulder sang in my nerves. I cast my eyes toward him and was embarrassed to catch his glance. He saw me blush like a high-schooler with a crush, and a Cheshire smile crept briefly across his features. Then his long arm reached between us and his hand was high on my thigh, indecently high on my thigh, or it would have been indecent had we not shared my bed the night before.

I swallowed a moan.

Mulder and I are nothing if not physically in tune with one another, as we had explored more fully the night before, and he could not have missed the effect he was having on me. But he didn't shift his hand in any direction and, while I felt the connection between us flare, he made no move to take more. Clearly, Mulder is also emotionally in tune with me, and he sensed the odd split personality I was developing in his presence.

His fingers on my inner thigh did nothing to help me control the wildly scattered thoughts that flitted disconcertingly through my skull.

We drew up at Waldem and I tried not to consider what I was planning to do to him.

"Mulder, I think it would be better if I saw General Sewell alone."

"Really?"

I nodded convincingly. "He might open up to me, as an old family friend. We have history."

My explanation was weak, and I was more than surprised when Mulder made no objection. I believe that, for once, he was viewing this as primarily my operation. And he had no reason not to trust me implicitly.

So I entered General Peter Sewell's imposing office alone.


"Dana Scully! I was so glad to hear you were planning on visiting me." Always a personable but somewhat distracted man, General Sewell's voice fairly boomed with good cheer.

"On official business, unfortunately." I spoke reflexively and then recalled that I no longer had 'official business.'

"Of course, of course," he blustered, before I had corrected my mistake. "Please, sit down." As I followed his instruction I glanced about the room, which looked more like a library than an office. I smiled to myself. Peter Sewell had never married, and physics was as much a wife as a hobby.

"I'm here to investigate a Special Forces mission which I believe you have had some involvement in." The general looked at me with vague interest. "The code name for the mission was Uragiru."

"Ah yes. Uragiru. To turn traitor."

My eyes whipped to him. "I'm sorry?"

"That's the translation. To turn traitor." The words sank into my stomach and rolled in my head. To turn traitor- Symmetry can be ugly.

"We were- I was hoping you could shed some light on a current investigation into the deaths of thirteen people."

"Ah dear, that's very sad. I certainly hope I can help." He spoke casually.

"What do you know about Uragiru?" I prompted.

"Not very much, I'm afraid. About three and a half years ago someone asked me about the mission. I knew nothing at the time, but it did ignite some interest. The man who was asking was a well regarded government physicist whose work I had followed for several years. He has made some extraordinary leaps into RF technology."

"Radio Frequency?"

"Yes, yes. In any case, I wished to assist the young man. His mind is extraordinary and he may revolutionize physics. You would be surp-"

I interrupted. "What did you uncover about the mission?" My natural fascination with physics was superceded by my desire to know more about the matter at hand.

"Really nothing at all. I found out who had performed the mission. They're all dead now, sadly. And I spoke with a son of one of the initial mission unit. He was rather unfriendly."

"Socorro Aguirre."

"I suppose that sounds right."

General Sewell was not known for his sharp memory. However, there was one thing I was certain he would recall. "Who was the man who asked about it?"

"His name was Dr. Jeffrey White. Jeff." I searched the older man's face for any sign that he knew this Jeff White was the son of Captain Alexander Hayes of the Uragiru mission. Then I saw tears prick his eyes. "I heard Jeff died almost a year ago now. Such waste of a fine mind. We'll not see another like it for a while."

I turned my eyes to the floor. Watching senior military officials cry has a certain poignancy, and I didn't want Mulder to sense a new and unexplained sadness in me.

We left the conversation at that and I was shown out.

Lithe fingers of new information were kneading my brain as I stepped into the daylight. Mulder was waiting for me in the car. For a moment I was free to watch him - and all brain kneading came to an abrupt halt. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows and one arm draped languidly out the open window. The sun grazed his cheekbones. His eyes were distantly focused. I was instantly aware of how much I wanted him. How undeniably, desperately, wonderfully, ceaselessly I wanted him.

I was, of course, terrified, until he turned his eyes toward me and smiled. And in that smile was the tenderness and amusement and sweet secret knowledge that I had waited eight long years to see.


\\I imagine I have painted you Walking at a distance Grey upon grey, almost in flight. And I think inside you, Beyond flesh, it's translucent Like soap, you sting my eyes. \\

Sitting alone in the car outside the base, far from the madding crowd that Scully was inducing in my head, I nursed my disappointed heart with little grace. I had expected that what we started in her room in the dark would grow a life of its own and take off with us. I thought touching her would become habitual, that fucking Scully would fill a perfectly proportioned hole in my core.

Instead she had transfixed me with her endless gaze, and then turned away.

And I didn't know how to force her to look back at me. It seems second steps are much more difficult than the oft-maligned first ones.

From across the parking lot she distracted me from my thoughts and I turned to watch her approach. What could I do but smile to see her? Just a glance and I'm smothered in love hearts and candy-coated endearments I wouldn't dare share with her. She circumnavigated the car and slipped into the passenger seat. For an instant she eyed me and I frothed internally. Then she leaned over and licked my lips deliberately, before sliding her tongue between them.

Fortunately the FBI had trained me to respond quickly to wildly changing circumstances. I sucked her tongue deeper into me.

All my thoughts of second steps being tougher were whisked away. Seconds are sweeter and smoother and wilder and older. I swelled in appreciation.

The trip back to her home was longer than the trip out.


It may have been the years of closely enforced abstinence, or the coolness that emanated from her this morning, but together, even when we weren't touching we were deliriously close to boiling. I prefer to believe that Scully and I would have met in a ball of flame whatever the circumstances.

We went to her place.

With the front door closed we stood still for a timeless moment, breathing in synchronicity. Then I reached for her and we collapsed against the door, our hands, our souls, our hips all working together to tumble the walls that differentiated us. She divested herself of her panties and shimmied her short skirt up around her hips. I placed a hand between her thighs to feel her and she shuddered against me. It was breathtaking to watch her writhe against the door as I thrust my fingers into the place my cock longed to fill.

"Mulder- p-please."

I kissed her and smiled predatorily into her lips, lifting her against the door. Then I was inside her. She flexed her muscles tight around me. It was old and powerful and new and mindless all at once. Her breathless fervor stole my inner monologue so that when I came all I could do was gasp in gratitude. A fraction later I felt her swell and ripple around me and her head fell back against the door with an unearthly cry of pleasure. And in the moment of stillness that followed I felt the endless binding energy between us.

God- God. This was what I would choose for all time. She was all I had ever known. She was all I needed.

We crumpled weak-kneed into her bed. The next time will be gentle and tortuously slow, I promised myself. I nodded off with one arm wrapped around her.

The next moment (although the clock indicated it was more than an hour later) a noise came from the front door. Then a voice slithered into my consciousness.

"Dana?" The harsh whisper was accompanied by a knock on the door. I attempted to turn to her and reach for my gun simultaneously but only succeeded in dropping the gun to the hardwood floor. The clatter woke Scully.

"Dana, it's Gabe. Can I come in?"

Awake, Dana Scully has the sharpest mind in the known world, but she was still half-asleep. In the time it took her to process the information, the door handle turned and Gabe was in her room. Only one of Gabe's eyes was uncovered, but the lack of depth perception that accompanied this did not signify a lack of perceptiveness. Not that he needed much to determine what had been going on.

He froze for a moment and his eye steeled over. When he spoke he ignored me.

"Dana, where's Imogen?"

Scully's calm demeanor faltered under his glare. "She's at childcare in the Hoover Building. Dom is looking after her."

Gabe didn't open his mouth, but as he turned and limped ferociously out of the room his back spoke volumes. - You send a baby off to childcare while her life is directly threatened by the same person who murdered her parents so you can have wild monkey sex in our house. - Scully sucked in a breath and pulled on a T-shirt and jeans. I followed her example with my crumpled clothing.

"Stay in here. I need to talk to him." Dictator Scully was back, but I could hardly mind. I nodded and watched her leave.


As I walked into the living room, where Gabe stood silently, I picked up my cell phone and dialed.

"Agent Domenico."

"Dom, it's Dana. How's Imogen doing?"

"She's fine. I'm exhausted though." He was going for light-hearted but I was too flat to even play straight man.

"Good. We're at my place."

"I'll bring her back there, shall I?"

"Thank you. I really appreciate this, Dom." My limbs trembled, whether from my performance with Mulder earlier, or trepidation at what Gabe would say, I couldn't tell.

Gabe looked at me as I set the phone down. "You can't leave her like that."

"I had to, we were going to question someone."

"And you just stopped by here for a quickie." Gabe was never sarcastic. Bitterness had always dissolved before it left him. And with the bandaged and blistered face and arm for added impact, his words hurt. I probably looked as miserable as I felt.

"It wasn't really..." I wanted to defend my actions - but what Gabe said rang too close to the truth. And the truth was abundantly unattractive. I'm horrible at speaking my apologies so I tried telepathy, without success. It's quite possible that I've consistently overrated my ability to communicate.

"Imo will be back soon." I held it out as a peace offering.

"I'll be in my office." He limped slightly as he stalked out. So much for peace.

I walked back into my room, where Mulder surveyed me gloomily.

"How's Gabe?"

I answered obliquely. "In his office."

"Right." There was a long ill-managed pause. I hated the silence. "Scully... I-" Hearing him stammer was worse than the silence. "I just don't want this guilt to be what us being together is about." He shut his mouth firmly, imprisoning any other words that were fighting for space in his throat.

My voice sounded small to my own ears. "Mulder, you need to go." I winced as I watched the fleeting pain in his eyes.

"Sure."

He reached out a hand and brushed at the tears that were dripping down my cheeks. And still I let him leave.


I started my own investigations as soon as Mulder left. I had let him believe nothing useful had come of the meeting with General Sewell. Somehow I could stand to betray the man, but I could not stand not knowing the reasons. It was an infuriating glitch in my personality. I so longed to go into a state of proper denial, and instead was investigating the very thing I needed to pretend did not exist. Fortunately the investigation was intriguing.

Jeff White was the inventor of a radio wave antenna which purportedly allowed radio waves to travel faster than the speed of light. The patent he had filed read like a sci-fi fantasy, without the half naked women. The work Dr. White was doing in the less pragmatic arenas of holes in the space-time continuum was more interesting and extraordinarily, more feasible to someone who had revisited Einstein all those years ago. After hours of delving into the penetration of an apparent new dimension I was a little out of my depth, and Imogen was furious with my lack of attention. Gabe was sleeping, which fortunately obscured the reproach lurking in his one good eye. I scanned the patent office e-files with glazed eyes. And something stuck out.

Several weeks after Jeff White had allegedly been killed, Jeff White signed the inventor's declaration.

I checked my dates and examined the signatures. If it was forgery, it was remarkably good. If Jeff White were alive-

Finally we had something that deserved investigation, and I couldn't share it with Mulder.


\\ I speak of distance The space between houses The way a moment separates into intimate particles.\\ A week later-

Conversations with Scully had been dissatisfyingly crisp ever since we had fumbled our way into and, presumably, back out of a sexual relationship. Regardless, I continued to call her, this time while I showed off my parallel parking skills on the street near my apartment.

"Scully."

"It's me. How are you?" I gathered my briefcase and files and began to walk the half a block to my front door.

"We're fine, Mulder." There was an almost imperceptible pause. "You?"

"No news I'm afraid." Every lead I'd followed in the past week had withered to nothing. Since it appeared Scully was taking little interest in the case I felt the responsibility heavily.

"OK." I nearly hung up on her lack of concern. Surely she could scrape up some passion about her brother's death, even if she could no longer scrape up any feeling for me.

"Scully-" My protest sounded like an entreaty and I didn't like that.

"We're fine Mulder. I need to go. I have to-" Her voice faded out without explanation. "I'll see you soon?"

The question surprised me - I wasn't expecting to see her anytime in the near future. Not that I didn't hunger to. "Sure-" I started, but she had disconnected. I dropped my phone into my pocket as I entered my building.

I rarely had need to check the mailbox in my hallway. Everyone I knew had stopped writing to me long before snail mail's gifted baby sister was born on the Internet. Of course this didn't stop corporations from addressing me as a long lost friend. Sometime during the day the hinged door to my mailbox had swung unlocked and I was forced to grab a handful of computer generated missives as I passed. They landed on the coffee table along with the files.

I headed for the kitchen to peruse the contents of my refrigerator, then turned back. Something had sidled into my consciousness.

At the top of the pile was an envelope addressed in Scully's tidy script. Mr. F.W. Mulder-

If anyone had been watching I might have aimed for nonchalance. Nobody was. I pounced on the letter.

M, I need to meet with you. Rosslyn Metro, upper platform, 10:30pm, Thursday 17th. -S.

Tonight.

Despite the spy novel melodrama, hope sputtered in me. Perhaps Scully's remoteness was forced by the shadow people who constantly interfered with our lives. Not a happy circumstance per se, but at least it meant that pinched coolness might not be Scully's natural response to the new state of our relationship.

I began creating a subtle escape plan, starting by calling Dom and arranging a meeting in a restaurant that was accessible by Metro. Then I turned to the creation of a more subtle plan to mend my relationship with Scully.

Tonight.


Tonight.

Please let him have received it. Please. I closed my eyes for a fraction.

I had thought the decision to betray Mulder had been the only one I could make. But every time I woke up I knew for one certain moment that the cost was too much. Not losing Mulder, although every cell ached in his absence and begged for his return. Rather that I would ultimately have nothing to give the baby I'd chosen to save, or anyone else. At least nothing that would last. Which meant it was all worthless.

Because the truth is that you can give up your direction and your assurance and you can give up your reasons for faith in yourself, but you will find that the loss of those things takes every heartbeat hostage from that time on. And there is nothing finite that is worth giving up the eternal. I could fight for Imogen, and I might win, but if I did it this way it would be with irreparable loss.

"You OK, Dane?"

I blinked and nodded, then looked across the room at Gabe. He was stretched out on the floor with the remote for the stereo in one hand, and the cover from a 1970 Flying Burrito Brothers album in the other. Not my taste, but at least he was sharing rooms with me now.

"I'm gonna need to be out for a few hours tonight." I had previously made use of all my tidy freak skills in examining the place for bugs. I figured that while my phones were tapped, while my e-mail was being read, while my house was certainly being watched, they probably weren't listening in on us. In any case, if they were I was screwed anyway, and I had to let Gabe know I'd be gone.

He eyed me thoughtfully. "Wha-"

I shook my head warningly. I could still afford to be somewhat reticent. "Trust me, Gabe. Please?"

He turned back to his album. "Sure."

I wasn't really sure what the subtext was, but I decided to overlook it.


\\To kill love So as not to commit suicide That is self-defense. The pistol leveled at you Takes aim at my heart With hot sin and cold punishment \\

The station was more crowded than one would expect so long after dark, but I sensed Scully before she approached. She stopped a few feet away, too far for us to touch.

"Hey." She had arranged this meeting but I was the first to speak. She let her mouth smile a little but the eyes that fixed mine were out of place. She looked sad and determined, like she'd already spoken a final farewell. I opened my mouth to deflect that look but she held up a hand.

"Mulder. I need to tell you something." Her voice was low and clear. She took a resigned breath and laid her hand against the pylon beside her to balance herself. "I- I-" If she had rehearsed a speech it was already forgotten. I was fairly positive I did not want to hear this from her, but I would. "Mulder, I have information about the man who killed Charlie- and all the others. I've had- I lied to you Mulder."

I froze.

"I learned some of this from General Sewell. But I- I know you can't understand but I felt I had to do this, Mulder. They threatened Imogen. They threatened to tell the killer about her." She shuddered and stepped away from me fractionally. I knew my face displayed the horror in my mind.

"Mulder, please understand." And she saw that I could not.

She drew an envelope from her bag. "Here's the information I've gathered. I'm so sorry." So sorry, Mulder, blue eyes echoed. But I couldn't accept it. Because years ago I had shown this woman exactly how to hurt me. I had given her a fucking diagram. And she couldn't return it to me. She couldn't ever return it.

She left. I could hear her parting thoughts in my head. Fortunately she didn't turn around. Because it was a desperate man she left behind. I watched myself from a distance as my head bent and I kissed every spot her fingertips had rested on that envelope. And I placed my hand where hers had rested on the concrete pylon, then lifted that hand to breathe her into my veins. My blood reveled in the thrill of touching her. However indirectly.


Mulder had sent us an FBI watchdog the moment I had left him, give or take several seconds. They came and went systematically, and every time I saw a new one outside I smiled my way through the disappointment that Mulder had not come himself.

After three weeks of watching the shadows, the tension in me was leaking through the house. In spite of his own (alleged though never demonstrated) fear, Gabe was patient with me, but Imogen was nine months old and hadn't learnt that the world didn't revolve around her. Or maybe it did, because all of this was about her. She stayed in my room, and I slept with my gun. We left the house rarely, and only in the careful view of the FBI.

Then with the rhythm of a highly stylized drama, my cell phone sprang to life again.

"Scully."

"It's Mulder. Jeff White is somewhere in the D.C. area." Even Mulder's voice was drained of color. I wished in vain that he would slip and let that fathomless regard swell in his tone as it used to.

"Somewhere?" I headed into the living room where Gabe and Imogen were entertaining themselves. Looking in, I met Gabe's eyes across the room. I didn't want to tell him too much right now so I turned away.

"He was spotted driving into town but my guy lost him. He was headed south, Scully"

The adrenaline was already throbbing in my arteries. We had faced worse. But I was no longer sure if there was a 'we' to face this. I swallowed my pride.

"Wi... will you come here?" It sounded worse than I'd expected so I couldn't repeat the question although he said nothing. "Please Mulder."

There was a momentary break in his breathing and in the silence I knew he was on the freeway.

"I'm already on my way." He disconnected before I said my thanks, but I was fairly certain he heard them regardless. I was much less certain that he wanted to hear them.


Gabe forced me to meet his eyes as I returned to the living room.

"Who was that?"

"Mulder. There's a suggestion that Jeff White may be coming here. He might just be in town coincidentally..." I was grasping at nothing.

"But you don't believe that."

"No. Don't worry, we'll be fine. Mulder's on his way here - and our faithful watchdog is..." I looked out the window into the night. The bureau vehicle was empty.

I reached behind me for my SIG and checked the chamber, although I knew there was a round there. Gabe's eyes fixed on me, metallically as I spoke. "Take Imogen and hide." I switched out the light.

"I'll get my gun," he said, dully, and tucked Imogen under his arm. Even in the dark he sensed my look. "I have a history too, Dana." I nodded and followed him into his bedroom, where he'd stashed a gun amongst his socks. I didn't address the fact that he'd obviously been taking care of it.

The bathroom off his room only had one entrance so he took Imogen in there. As soon as the lock snicked into place I was in the hall and on the offensive. Hiding wouldn't work forever and I didn't know how close Mulder was.

In the hallway the darkness was shrill with unreleased tension. Every blink of my eyes seemed to thud loudly. I padded toward the living room in stockinged feet, keeping my breathing even and quiet. I heard the slightest brush of fabric against fabric. Someone was here.


I pulled up under a streetlight and somehow managed to restrict my pace to a sprint as I headed for Scully's front door. Time was I would have known absolutely whether or not she was safe, but I was terrified that my sense of these things had been irrevocably damaged some time earlier.

Something was still in working order, though. That something stopped me before I hammered mindlessly on the door or shouted Scully's name in cliched Brando-esque tones. I was suddenly confident that there was someone in there with her and her little family unit. Perhaps it just took proximity, because I swore I could hear Scully speaking.

I edged the key she'd given me (a tradition, not a need, until now) into the lock and slid the door open noiselessly.

I headed for the living room, half-knowing she was poised at the opposite end of the room. My eyes twitched as they adjusted to the absence of streetlights indoors. For an instant I saw her in the doorway, and I had the feeling our eyes locked briefly as we rebuilt this aspect of our partnership.

The figure that moved between us was man-sized and shaped. I didn't like pointing my gun at him, knowing Scully was next in the receiving line.

"FBI. Drop your weapon." Her voice didn't shake. If I didn't know her like I knew the inside of my skull, I would have thought this merely a training exercise.

The man, presumably Jeff White, although it was hard to tell in the dark, spoke then. His first sentence was unintelligible to me but he translated helpfully. "I'm not here for you, but for the other one. You may leave."

Not likely.


Mulder stepped sidelong into the room. Jeff White half turned from him and came for me. In two paces he was half way across the room. I pulled hard on the trigger and there was a roar of noise. Around the flash of light I saw Jeff White's body twist sideways under the impact and keep coming. Presumably his shoulder was in agonizing ruins but he made no particular sound. I shot again, aiming at his legs. Mulder aimed and fired at the same time. There was a moment of stillness and then Jeff White fell at my feet.

In a moment of swift good sense Mulder switched on the light and reached for his phone. Jeff White's legs were twitching and spilling blood on the living room floor. His shoulder was a mess. He still made no noise. As I knelt beside him I saw the look in his eyes. Pale hatred was simply heightened by resentment, even irritation. He seemed to feel no fear and no pain.

I put pressure in all the right places and kept the man alive until the ambulance arrived. Mulder left with him.

And so, suddenly and unexpectedly, it was over. Most of my body was enormously relieved. Parts of it wanted to curl up in an exhausted ball and never unroll. A tiny fragment despaired that there would no longer be any need for Mulder to think of me.

I quashed that tiny part and went to free Gabe and Imogen from the bathroom. It looked like Imogen was having a little baby party in the bathtub. On the other hand, Gabe was pale and brittle. I found him the smile I had filed for such occasions and presented it gingerly. He smiled back. At this point Imogen demonstrated her own strange idea of perfect timing and began to holler.


It was infuriating that I still thought of Scully, even now it was over. Over the last three weeks I had read the reports of the agents assigned surveillance at her place and my imagination had accurately supplied the details of her purple stained eyes and newly sharp edges. Now, as Jeff White's story slowly came out, I could picture her relief. And I stored a running commentary in my head and addressed it to her.

Disappointingly, it appeared Jeff White was not possessed by a vengeance spirit, or the revenant of a deceived teenager. Instead he just added new meaning to the words 'mad scientist'.

Four years earlier, while studying at MIT, he had met Emi Hayashi. Three years younger than he, Emi was the only daughter of Tomoko Hayashi. Tomoko's younger brother, had, as a boy, and in light of somewhat exaggerated information from a group of American soldiers, assassinated Inajiro Asanuma before killing himself.

Vengeance had been instilled in Emi, the niece of tragedy, before she was born. She determinedly sought out Jeff White, allegedly the most intelligent and least balanced of the second generation of Americans. Jeff proved to be both. Emi was beautiful and mad and well trained by her mother and grandfather. In three weeks Jeff was in thrall. In two months he would have died for her. After three and a half months of blissful insanity she had committed hara-kiri in his bedroom and, as her blood spilled on his bedspread, she asked him to kill for her.

He kept the bedspread. And he discovered that killing begets killing. It was unfortunate for the U.S. government that he didn't finish his research into space and time before he decided he preferred murder to physics. I imagine they figured once he was done with the killing he could get back to building a time machine or space ship or whatever they were hoping for. As long as he didn't get caught.

The disconcerting thing was that now it seemed to be over. And miraculously Scully and her niece were safe. Of course, too many people had died for me to gloat, but I was tempted.

I compiled all this information internally, and sent someone else to visit Scully.


\\I fix you in time, on a mantel and turn my eyes. I forget to see the sun set inside you.\\

So my part of the world went on, much as it had previously. For nearly two months it went on. I spent long hours caring for patients, looking after Imogen, trying to find a hobby that didn't bore me senseless within a week. And I became steadily more and more restless. Gabe noticed, and quietly made changes in his life so I could work more, while he took on more of the baby care. But my restlessness didn't cease.

It's not as though I'm scared to have a smaller life than the one I was used to. I hoped.

I have to admit I half expected Mulder to turn up in an appropriate blaze of blue light to throw my life back into flux. Even though I knew he wouldn't.

I mourned the loss of this peculiar hope.

As is frequently the case, change came from another, altogether unexpected direction. It also came slowly, without blazing lights of any color.

On a crisp Saturday afternoon Gabe spoke up from behind a computer magazine. "Dane, I was wondering, I've been seeing this girl and I wondered if you'd mind if I brought her here. Y'know to meet Imo, and you."

"Sure." I nearly laughed, and he caught the amusement in my expression.

So she ate with us that night. And the next night. And the next.

Juliana Peri was tiny with a wide boyish smile. Wonderfully, under her ministrations the plants I had pronounced dead months earlier were raising their heads. She cooked with more enthusiasm than experience. She messed up the house as much as Imogen did then tidied in an overwhelming flurry of activity. She was thrilled with everything either Gabe or Imogen did.

Frankly, Imogen wasn't tremendously impressed with Juliana at first, but she soon calculated the value of having a third adult to pay her attentions and started throwing things at her with as much enthusiasm as she threw them at Gab or Day. (I had tried to teach her to call us mom and dad or some other more usual title but it was too awkward for all of us.)

Juliana was called Lanie, or close enough to Lanie to make Gabe flinch.

Within five or six weeks I began to realize that Juliana was pregnant.

My first thought was a question. What are we going to do? How are we going to arrange this? No that's untrue; my first thought was that she was so tiny they'd have to do a C-section. My second thought was a twinge of jealousy. My third thought was the question. And my fourth thought (I guess I was keeping track) was a hint of the second hand dream I had been keeping hidden.

I cornered Gabe and we created a strategy for three people's lives as we had that first time many months earlier. I met with Skinner the next week.


I think the air in the Hoover building changed subtly.

Dom had been on vacation with his tall, curvy wife and chubby kids. He returned sunned and beaming and within eight minutes learned all the rumors that had been circumnavigating me all week.

"They say an Agent Dana Scully is returning to the FBI."

He had my attention.

"She'll be back in the labs as a forensic pathologist starting this week."

"Do you know why she's coming back?" I aimed for casual.

"Nope, thought you might, though." I tried to disguise my pain as irritation but Dom picked it up.

"She's just going to be one of several people we need to work with. And she's damn good." When I still provided no response he continued. "She was your partner, Mulder. You can still work together, if necessary. It's just unlucky that you two had to- y'know, take things so far."

Unlucky wasn't the word I would use for it. Unsurprisingly, I couldn't come up with a word I would use. "You don't know the first thing about it."

"I've seen you guys together. You were a great team. Great. And she's sweet as hell." Dom was smart enough to know what a simile is, but at times he was too lazy to ensure they made sense. I glared at him and he shut up.

Even though I'd been imagining her all day, I was surprised when we came upon Scully in the corridor.

"Dom. Mulder." A half smile hovered against her lips, as though she didn't know where to put it.

I tried for cold but probably only got as far as bitter.

"Good to see you back, Dana," said faithful Dom.

"Thank you." She nodded at him and, after a moment and a quick blue glance at me, walked on toward the elevator.

Dom grumbled at me as she left. "You couldn't just be pleasant?"

But I couldn't. I couldn't speak at all. It was very irritating. Especially irritating because she seemed so self-possessed. She was also transparently beautiful. Perhaps sweet as hell was an accurate description of this whole thing.


\\ Some stubborn sweetness Too still, by far, for agile joy Lingers in my outstretched hand.\\

Despite the distance between us, seeing Mulder in the Hoover building almost every day catalyzed a depth of feeling I had thought long lost. Primarily the feeling was one of pain. It hurt to finally know what I had always suspected. That he was too much for me, or I was too little for him. And I would never have him.

Still, returning to the FBI was interestingly freeing.

I'd moved back into the city and left Gabe and Julie with the house and most of Imogen. They adored her in a far more attentive way than I'd been doing recently and I knew she was more than content. In any case, the benefits of being an adored and adoring aunt cannot be shrugged at and I saw her every weekend. Of course, I missed her ferociously. I missed Gabe too. I even missed Juliana, whom I barely knew.

On my third day back at the FBI I began to review the Jeff White files. Of course, I trusted that Mulder had the investigation more than perfectly under control, in his own way, but I couldn't bring myself to ask him about it.

I opened my brother's family's file first. Unfortunately it was nothing like tearing off a Band-Aid, but it was the only way I could do it. I didn't let myself cry, and there was no reason to even imagine Mulder's presence. It felt like I was swallowing rocks, but I went on.

It was after midnight when I realized Mulder had walked into my office and was eyeing me indeterminately.

"How long have you been here?"

"You took my files." It was almost a question and I blushed.

"I- I needed to know what happened."

"And you couldn't ask me?"

"I just- no, I didn't think I could." There was a heavy pause. "Should I have?"

He didn't answer me, but stepped across the room and leaned over my desk. I wanted to bring my lips close to his face, but the moment was too fragile. I looked down.

"What have you found?" he asked.

"You refer to Charlie having shot Dr. White."

"Yeah, some of Dr. White's blood was at the scene. We confirmed the blood samples matched."

"How many bullets did they find?"

Mulder flipped through a couple of pages. "Four."

"Charlie was a pretty good shot. I was wondering how it could be that he didn't stop the guy."

"Charlie was... already fatally wounded." Mulder's eyes held mine fluidly, then he forced himself to turn back to the file. "What's bothering you about this?"

"When I shot Dr. White, it was as if he didn't feel it. I shattered his shoulder blade and he didn't even whimper. And I looked into his eyes. I felt strongly that he sensed no pain. It looks like Charlie hit him too. But I don't see any hospital records from that time."

Mulder nodded, frowning a little. "Yeah. It appears he never went to a hospital. Of course, he would have used a false name. Maybe I can find something."

"One other thing. Before he attacked me, Dr. White said something strange."

"That he wasn't there for you?"

"Mmm. But he went on to say he was there for the other one.'"

"One. So, you think he's still not aware of Charlie... Imogen."

"Maybe. I don't know. It could just be the ravings of an insane man. I just thought it strange."

"I'll look into it." His voice sounded dismissive.

"Thank you, Mulder." He started out of the office, but turned back slowly.

"You should go home, Scully. You look exhausted."

I didn't know whether to be ecstatic that he had seen my face at all, or miserable because I knew I looked awful. I decided to stay with composed.

"I'm fine, Mulder. It's just the new job. And moving. Everything's changed quite suddenly. But I'm glad to be back here." My pride was being washed away by his presence. I hoped my tone hinted that this gladness had not a little to do with his nearness.

"It's working out for you?"

He was devastatingly casual. It's hard to know exactly what to say to a new acquaintance who is your oldest friend. A tie drawn in blood cannot be rebuilt with mere airy words.

"Yeah. It is."

There was another brief pause. Then he looked to me again and let his eyes warm fractionally. My breath hitched in my throat.

"You done with the files?"

"Do you need them?"

"Yes." He was lying, but I could understand that. I handed them to him and felt a tingle of infinity through the manila folder.

"Good night Scully."

"Good night." He left steadily.

I wept then, and my tears dripped awkwardly onto my brother's file. Mulder frees me and traps me in one smooth motion.

\\Years may go by But I think the heart remains a child. The mind may grow wise But the heart just sulks and it whines And remains a child. Why won't you love me? Why won't you love me?\\

Title: Uragiru Part: 5 of 5 By: penelopody Mail to: penelopody@hotmail.com

I found myself unable to draw my thoughts from Scully, even as I walked away. The glaring fluorescence and green-gray shadows of the corridors I trod added an appropriate level of strangeness to my thinking.

Unhappily, now that I knew she was closer to human than I'd guessed, I didn't know how to deal with her. Her imagined perfection had injected distance into the act of sex, long before the actual act took place. Despite the fact that it had always been about love, and a kind of subtle worship, whatever was between us had never seeped into normalcy. Now love would, of necessity, evolve into a shared life of some kind, or we would have destroyed it. And however extraordinary our life, sharing one with another, in the intimacy of the commonplace, would make both lives ordinary.

It also occurred to me that in thinking Scully perfect, I had underestimated her.

To my mind's relief I reached my office before I could pursue this line of thinking. I called Dom's answering service.

"It's Mulder. We're going to need to visit with Jeff White first thing tomorrow. I'll meet you at the prison."


Jeff White was being held in a neat little cell-like prison hospital ward. They'd had him in a straitjacket when we'd visited previously. He seemed naked and fragile without it.

He barely looked up as we entered.

"Dr. White," Dom began, looking huge and awkward against the blank white walls, "we need to ask you a few more questions about the murders you've confessed to."

"I've confessed as much as I plan to confess."

"Fair enough Dr. White. We're interested in some of the circumstances of those murders. Specifically the murder of Charles Scully."

"And?"

"Charles Scully attempted to shoot you several times. What can you tell us about that?"

"Nothing."

"Did he hit you?"

"I cannot recall."

I took over from Dom. "Your blood was at the crime scene, Dr. White. You say you don't recall what happened there?"

He spoke reluctantly, although he didn't appear to be afraid of the consequences. "Fine. I recall. I believe he did shoot me."

"Where?"

"I don't know. Perhaps the leg. Or abdomen." I sensed Dom's quizzical look and the stab of things being not quite right. Not that things can be quite right when a homicidal maniac is involved. But this was a new kind of weird.

"Will you submit to an examination?"

"If necessary."

I went to find a doctor to perform the exam. Dom nodded as I left the room. His large body provided a vivid contrast to Jeff White's frame, so I had no qualms about leaving them alone.


When I returned the room was swathed in blood.

I reached instinctively for my SIG. Jeff White was slumped in a pool on the floor. Dom was seated in a corner, bloodstained, blank-eyed and pale. The doctor behind me gasped. She paused while I confirmed this was no ploy, and then gingerly leaned over Dr. White's body. There was never any chance that he was alive.

The blood made the floor slippery as I approached Dom.

"Dom." His eyes focused slightly. "What the hell happened?" Dom didn't reply. I had seen him face numerous grisly deaths. While he didn't have Scully's iron stomach, he was solid and dependable.

"What happened?" I turned to the doctor.

"He's been stabbed. Or he stabbed himself," she replied shakily.

"Don't move him."

"I know." I had irritated her.

"Check that my partner's OK." I looked over at Dom. At that point he stood up slowly.

"I'm fine." It was odd to hear his deep voice intoning Scully's words. I was relieved. "I was just a little shaken."

"Looks like you're in shock," offered the doctor helpfully.

"What happened?" I asked.

"He pulled a blade. I thought he was coming for me. He sliced himself open right in front of me."

"Ritual suicide? Did he say anything?"

"Nothing."

"OK." I took out my cell and called the bureau. Then I turned to the doctor.

"I need the room cordoned off. Can you make sure that's done?"

"We have a procedure. I'll see to it."

She was glad to leave the room to us.

"I'm going to ask Scully to autopsy Dr. White."

Dom was still pale. Although he said nothing I felt the need to explain.

"I trust her." I was unsurprised to discover this was still more than true. "And there's certain aspects of this I want her to look into."

"Such as?"

I was interrupted by a soft "hello." A young nurse stood outside the door, proffering a steaming cup of tea for Dom. It appeared the doctor had a streak of kindness. Dom and I walked out together as the crime scene team pulled up. As we rounded the corner he bumped clumsily into the wall and tea slopped over his hand. Apparently it had cooled already. He didn't appear to notice.


I was visiting Gabe and Imogen when Mulder called me.

"Scully."

"Scully, it's me."

My script for this conversation had been erased in the last months and I couldn't determine what I was supposed to be saying. He continued. "I need you to do an autopsy for me."

He wouldn't ask unless it was important. "Of course."

"On Jeff White."

"Oh. How did he die?" Imogen was suddenly silent, as though she understood death already.

"He committed hara-kiri half way through our interview." He sensed my surprise. "Dom was in with him and couldn't stop him."

"You have him in the morgue there?"

"Yep."

"I'll come out now." I looked at Imogen apologetically.

"Thanks Scully." We disconnected.

"Something's going on?" Steadfast concern glimmered in Gabe's eyes.

"Jeff White committed hara-kiri this afternoon."

"Jeff?" Gabe looked slightly incredulous, which meant he was extremely incredulous.

"Yep. So it's really all over now." I wanted to be reassuring, but Gabe continued to puzzle over something. He toyed with Imogen's low hanging Noah's ark mobile and she eyed him critically before tugging viciously at the fat hippopotamus which dangled before her.

When he spoke he sounded thoughtful. "I know he was insane. And that makes a difference I suppose. But Jeff... he was always something of a wimp. Y'know he scraped his knee he was in his mother's arms for hours."

"Really." I bit my lip as I ruminated. "When I shot him he seemed to be completely oblivious to pain."

"I guess things change." Gabe shrugged, but his eyes were still serious. He scooped Imogen up and rescued the hippo by letting her tug on his beard.

"I need to go in to do the autopsy."

"Mulder going to be there?"

"I imagine so. He called me."

Gabe frowned a little, and reached to place a steady hand on my shoulder. He had spent too much time with me not to be aware of how Mulder affected me.

"Be careful, Dana."

"Sure." He handed me my bag and jacket.

"Bye poss." I bent and kissed her silky head. Imogen took the opportunity to grab at my hair with sticky baby fingers. "I'll see you both soon." Gabe smiled encouragingly.

I had to pry Imogen from my hair to leave, which made things seem worse than they were.


Mulder moved away from the table and leaned against the opposite wall of the morgue as I examined the outside of Jeff White's almost bloodless body. He kept his eyes on me. After a moment he chuckled a little. I raised my face in a question.

"You couldn't give this up?" He waved a hand to the cool dark room and the body, laid out on the table and glaringly ugly.

"I'm good at this. I like it. Well, I don't like this exactly." His eyes teased me and I was so delighted I grinned at him. "It's your fault, you know. You introduced me to alien hybrids and flukemen and zombies. How can I be happy with normal anatomy? Speaking of which." I directed Mulder's glance to the dead man's abdomen. "There's a gunshot wound here."

"That's in addition to the three we gave him?"

"Uhm-hmm. This one's older and it's been stitched up much less skillfully. Look at the scarring." It was ragged and garish. "I think maybe he stitched himself up."

"Impressive." Mulder moved into my space and peered at the body.

"Especially for a guy Gabe considered a wimp."

"So this was new?" He towered over me but I refused to step back although I had to tilt my head precariously to look him in the eye.

"He was insane, Mulder."

"Yeah." The word spilled out slowly but he was thinking furiously. I reveled in the pleasure of watching his mind work once again. "There's a theory of possession, Scully, where the spirit merely dominates the body of its victim and doesn't bond with it in any sense. So while the spirit is limited to using the strengths of the body it's possessing it is completely unaffected by harm done to the body, unless, obviously, that harm results in death."

"And you think Jeff White was possessed?" My dubiousness was partly genuine.

"It's a theory. It would explain how he managed to continue even after you'd shot him. At least until we took his legs. The spirit doesn't care what you do to its victims body. It's completely expendable."

"So where's this spirit now?"

"I don't know. There must be some act of transference involved."

"The ritual suicide." "The seppuku" We spoke at once.

Somehow it seemed certain now. I wanted to curse Mulder for being right, but I was also enjoying the old analytical process.

Until it ended up back where it started. "Which means..."

"Dom." Mulder's breath met mine as I turned toward him. I didn't need to say it. Imogen... Gabe...

"Where is Dom?"

"I sent him home."

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and dialed Gabe's number.

"Hey, this is Juliana." I breathed thanks for this sign of life.

"Juliana. I need you to lock the doors and not let anyone in. We think someone's after Gabe and Imogen."

"Sure Dana. Sure. But we're good. Mulder's partner came over a few min...."

Mulder knew before our eyes even met.

I spoke quickly. "OK. I need you to keep Gabe and Imo away from him. He won't want to hurt you, just the others."

"Dom?" she asked.

"Yes." I trusted my instincts and told her more. "We have reason to believe he's possessed. Please go Jule. We'll be there in ten minutes."


I kept the accelerator pressed to the car floor and we made it in eight.

Scully reached the front door before I did and pushed it open before plunging inside.

"Gabe?"

Before she entered the living room she glanced back at me. They were all there.

"Hey guys," Scully said, in a voice which rang falsely in my trained ear.

Gabe grinned with relief and exhaled softly.

"Dana! Mulder!" Juliana was slightly more sprightly than would appear to be normal. Charlie was sitting on Juliana's belly, twittering to herself.

We all paused awkwardly and viewed each other for a fraction. Then Scully approached Dom.

"Hey Dom. I heard about what happened today. How are you feeling?" Her concern for him was evident but her muscles were still and tension rippled in the air.

As Dom responded noncommittally Scully's eyes flickered across the room to mine. In that instant Dom moved. His left arm shot out, reaching for Juliana. As Gabe went to grab him, his right arm swung across, and the knife he held sliced Gabe's forearm. Scully and I simultaneously pulled our guns and aimed them at him. His knife grazed Juliana's throat. Imogen let out a squawk.

Every eye in the room turned to Imogen, still wrapped in Juliana's arms, her face pressed to Juliana's chest, a knife three inches above her honey-colored head.

I looked up at Dom, or at least, Dom's body. He spoke without color.

"There is a child I must repay for what was done to me. Burning for burning, wound for wound, stripe for stripe. Which of you is the one?"

Juliana's eyes were bright above Imogen's head.

"It's me," said Gabe quietly.

"Gabe," Scully protested. I couldn't turn and look at her, but her expression was already etched in my mind.

I took a step forward and Dom's head turned slightly. He pressed the knife into Juliana's skin. "Stay still, Agent Mulder."

Gabe's voice was quiet and steady. "Please let Juliana and the baby go. I'm all you want."

"You are Gabriel Duncan." Clearly the spirit in Dom did not know all that Dom knew.

"Robert Duncan's son."

"Good. You have been hard to locate."

In that second Dom pushed Juliana toward Scully and lunged forward. I fired a fast double tap almost instantaneously and hit Dom twice in the chest. Almost instantaneously was too late. Dom thrust his knife through Gabe's ribcage until only the butt was showing and collapsed.

"Blood for blood."

As Dom tumbled back two feet and fell to his knees some kind of supernatural howling erupted in the room. The vengeance spirit was unsatisfied and must have become aware that there were people it was sworn to inflict vengeance upon who remained alive. But it was too late for Dom and the spirit could not be transferred.

As the howling died it reverberated with Imogen's helpless sobbing. Juliana gave Gabe's shuddering body a long glance, her soul in her black eyes, and then carried Imogen out of the room.

I dialed 911 then bent with Scully to aid the two men.


\\I've seen your flag on the marble arch But love is not a victory march It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah\\

Mulder drove me home from Gabe's memorial service. I kept my eyes closed for the entire trip and didn't try to stop the flood of images which my brain projected on the inside of my eyelids: Imogen tottering on baby legs and gripping Juliana's skirt as Juliana's tears dripped on her soft head. Juliana's dark eyes fixed on Gabe's coffin.

I recalled Dom's sweetness, and his faithful concern for me on such short acquaintance.

And I recalled Gabe's face as he polished his Harley, or bathed Imo. And the way he'd grinned when Imogen chattered incomprehensibly at him, or when Juliana was nearby. And the look he gave me while he stepped forward to save the two things dearest to him.

I was glad to reach home.

In the doorway to my apartment Mulder pulled me close. I sobbed in response and he bent his lips to my hair. For several minutes he held me and whispered reassurance into my scalp. When I straightened he released me.

I kissed him on the lips and asked him to leave. I promised to call if I needed anything.

In my sight his eyes were boundless, an ocean of untamed storm clouds shining above the fathomless green of kelp and whale song. I wondered if he knew how I longed to need him. I wondered if he knew why I couldn't let him stay.

Of course he knew. He always knew.


Scully called four days later. I was there in minutes.

"Please don't be sweet to me or I'll cry again." Her face pleaded earnestly and I smiled at her.

"I'll try."

"Dinner?"

"Sure. Want me to get something?"

"No need. My mom came over and left me with enough to last me several years. How do you feel about Beef Stroganoff? Or Apricot Chicken?"

"Whichever." If I never ate again I would be happy because this one time Scully called on me.

"And wine?"

"You've taken to drink?" She smiled a little and my heart tumbled about inside my chest.

"How are you, Da... Scully?" No sweetness. Nothing unnatural.

"I'm fine. I just need to talk to you about... things."

I recalled the last time she needed to talk to me and my heart ground to a halt.

"Dinner first," she said firmly. I willed my heart to do its work again and went to help her in the kitchen.

She made me eat all my vegetables and sat me on the couch before she continued.


Seated next to Mulder I was compelled to reflect on whether I was doing the right thing, whether there even was a right thing to do.

"I talked with Juliana today." I was aware of the question in his head, and responded swiftly. "She's fine really, considering. She's mending. Her sister's in town. Imogen's all right too."

"Good."

"I needed to talk to Juliana about Imogen." I felt Mulder's insides wince and went on immediately. "Juliana's going to... keep Imo."

Saying it didn't make me feel much better about the decision.

"I... Juliana is a wonderful, perfect mother. Probably better than I could be."

"No..." he started.

"And more than that, I need to take seriously the things which we've uncovered. It's... unbelievable to leave Imogen, but Juliana loves her and I can help but I... I can't hide in my house with my baby when I am aware of an imminent threat to humanity. It's ... it doesn't work that way." I wasn't confident that my decision was the right one and I couldn't keep my head from dropping into my hands. After all we had never been told that being superheroes was our destiny.

In an instant Mulder was kneeling before me. He wrapped me in his arms.

"I have to believe you're right, Scully. I have to believe it. And with you... with you."

He didn't need to finish. Instead he leaned in to kiss me.

"You'll get yourself transferred back on to the X-Files, won't you?"

"Yes. Skinner signed the transfer papers today."

We both smiled, and the space between our bodies was filled with an unexpected blissfully bittersweet contentment. Our lips met in that delicate space.

The finite and infinite collided and fractured around us as we found ourselves and forgot ourselves.

In between kisses he told me of the new information he'd gathered from the conspiracy theorist in Berkeley and his samples and from Socorro Aguirre's secret records. I responded as cogently as I could until it was beyond me to concentrate on both sides of Mulder's boundless passion. Then I quieted his mouth and slowly made his body tremble.

As he moaned and smiled into my lips I felt my soul being torn down and rebuilt. I felt the nerves tightening around my heart, each twist an agony and a delight. I felt whole and I felt fragmented.

When he cried out to me I responded in kind, because this shattered hallelujah was a kind of perfection. And there was no one else.


I woke before dawn, and Scully was there. In the still light she seemed illusory so I reached for her skin. The unalloyed delight of touching her compelled me to lie awake. She moved in her sleep and I reveled in her substantiality.

I listened to her breathe.


And so it goes. We offer two lives as ransom. We lead each other into the very arms of destruction. And we hate ourselves for bringing such danger upon one whom we count as beyond compare. Yet we will continue, together, because whether or not we succeed, we can't see anything of greater import than saving humankind.

And we are lost without the other.

The End.


Note: I have excerpted from (in order of appearance): the bible, PGO, PGO, Elvis Costello, PGO, PGO, anonymous Japanese poet, PGO, PGO, Everything but the Girl, Jeff Buckley.

Note 2: The fact of the assassination of Inajiro Asanuma is true although I doubt any of the events around it are.

Please feel free to answer any or none of these questions. They're really for my benefit.

Any suggestions for the 'action' scenes (my least favorite)? Particular phraseology you liked or disliked? Did you connect with the original characters?

Thank you!

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