Author: XFBandit (edited by Scott Carr)
Usual disclaimers apply
If you want, send feedback. Address is either drambo@azstarnet.com or xfwriter@azstarnet.com
Rating: PG-13
Classification: MSR, A

Summary: Scully is forced to enter the Witness Security Program.

Author's Note: Yes, yes, it's me, Dawson, writing as Bandit. Anyway, this one has been sitting around the hard drive for a while, and Scott finally harassed me enough to release it.



It began when it ended.

I could never begin to count the number of times I had sat in my apartment on all those nights and wished that she could come to me. That she could come to me and ask with her eyes, with her kisses, with her gentle soul for me to join with her as one, as men and women were meant to join.

It would be the start of a new life, I thought.

As it turned out, it was the end of one.


A Thursday night, oddly enough.

I'd always thought it would be a Friday or a Saturday or, in the alternate, a Sunday night.

Sunday nights seem to hold some kind of magic for us.

But it was a Thursday, and she came to me.

As I always dreamed.



Prayed for.

The knock was soft, tentative.

I opened the door with pistol in hand to find her standing there, looking like a lost, drowned kitten might.

I didn't ask.

I knew she'd tell me in her own time.

I decocked my pistol and jammed it in my pants at the small of my back, leading her back into the apartment.

She took the far end of the couch.

I took the near end, waiting.

"My mother," she said softly, "is in Federal Protective Custody."

It wasn't the most surprising thing she could have said (Marry me, Mulder) ...but it was close.

"What happened?"

"She was at Arlington," Scully said softly. "Her brother is buried there. Uncle Fitz."

Fitzgerald is Scully's mother's maiden name. Scully's Uncle Edward was always called Uncle Fitz by the Scully children.

I waited.

"Something happened. I don't have all the details. Skinner called me about an hour ago. She saw something. Something she shouldn't have."

Scully paused, an ironic grin twisting at her lips. "Something totally, completely unrelated to our work, Mulder. My mother saw something else, something she shouldn't have."

I didn't bother telling Scully she was repeating herself.

"And she was almost killed, Mulder. She turned and ran, ran to find help, to find a cop, a Park Police officer or someone. They chased her." Scully paused. "She almost didn't make it away. But, she did find someone. They called the FBI when they found out her daughter...that I was a Special Agent."

"Skinner took the call," Scully continued after another pause."Figured out what happened, and he did the rest."

"What happens now?" I asked.

"She's going away, Mulder."

"Whoa," I said, holding up a hand. "Back up."

"My mother saw something, an assassination attempt, I think. Skinner wouldn't give me any details over the phone. As soon as he figured out who was involved, he called the US Attorney's office. My mother is in WITSEC, Mulder. They're going to take her away."

I said nothing.

Scully began moving then, moving towards me.

I let her come, expecting that she just wanted to be held.

She didn't.

She wanted more.


When it was over, we'd somehow ended up in my bed.

Later, I found out what happened next.

Scully woke around three, got up, dressed, and left me.

I like to believe that the stopped long enough to plant a kiss on my lips, a goodbye of sorts.

She was leaving, you see.

Leaving to join her mother in the program.

Leaving her job.

Leaving the Bureau.

The X-Files.



When I woke, she was gone.

I tried her home number first, wondering what had made her leave. Had I called out Phoebe's name in my sleep?

The recording at the other end of the phone gave me chills, because I knew it so well.

It wasn't the normal "The number you are calling" recording.

It just said, "Please stand by..."

That was an FBI Trap-and-trace recording. At this moment, probably in the basement of Scully's building, a small electronic device was tracing this call and forwarding the information on to whomever had placed the trap.

I tried her cell next.


Slowly, not wanting to believe it, I understood what had just happened.

Scully had joined her mother in the program.


It wasn't Bureau.

It was the Marshals Service.

DOJ, at least.

I called Skinner.

At home.


By the sound of his voice, he'd been up all night.



There was a pause. "Hold on," Skinner said. I heard the sound of movement, and then the phone being handed to someone else.

"Mulder," she said into my ear.

"Scully," I breathed, overjoyed to hear her voice. "I thought you had left, that you'd decided to go with-"

"I have," she said.


"Mulder, do you remember what I said last night?"

I thought back. In the middle of our passion, she'd reached for me as I moved above her, grabbing me and bringing my lips to hers for a deep, burning kiss. "I love you," she'd whispered, tears in her eyes.

I'd returned the sentiment.

"Don't ever forget it," Scully said, and hung up.

Professional to the end.


It rang busy.

So did Skinner's cell.

For two hours.

Then, finally, it began ringing again.

"Mulder," he answered.

"Where is she?" I asked without preamble.

"She's gone, Mulder."

I took a breath. "For how long?" I asked.

He didn't answer. "HOW LONG?" I demanded.

"Until we find the men that her mother saw at Arlington. Until we're sure that they'll both be safe."

"I want in," I said.

"I imagine you do," Skinner said.

And then he told me how we were going to catch the bastards.


Only it didn't work out that way.

Not exactly.

Not at all.

The case was hot for about a month.

Leads, clues, suspects.

All slowly vanishing into mist.

After thirty days, Skinner tried to pull me off the case. Tried, and failed.

After six, he insisted.

I kept at it, in my spare time, after work, on weekends, vacations, sick days. Every possible moment I could spare from my assigned duties, I tried to find the men that had brought this upon me.

And failed.


The millennium came and went.

Plus three years.

2003 now, and I have nothing to show for it.

Nothing for Scully.

I haven't heard her voice for six years.

Skinner doesn't know where she is.

We've both tried. He's pulled every string he can, and then some. He wrote a personal appeal to the Attorney General.

That failed.

I wrote the Chief Marshal.

That failed as well.

No exceptions, they told us.

The program must be secure.

The people that Maggie had seen, judging by what they were doing, were at the highest levels of power. Eager to move on anyone that threatened their position.

If they told me where she was, they knew I'd go to her.

I'd be followed.

They'd find her, and she'd die.

She and her mother.

So I kept at it, hoping, praying for a break. Nothing came.

Until she came back.


Seven years plus, the same month but not to the day.

That would have been a cliché, even for me.

A knock at my door.

I hadn't moved, on purpose.

The X-Files had long been closed; I'd been unable to give them my full attention. Transferred back to VCS, I moved quickly up the ladder. I was now Deputy Assistant Director, with the commensurate raise and perks. A car and a driver.

But I hadn't moved.

If she came looking for me, I didn't want her to miss a single step.

And she came.


The knock was so familiar that at first I thought I was dreaming. I still had enemies.

More, now.

Killers, eager to exact revenge.

I was on a notify list for every single prison in the country. Every single time there was an escape, I got a fax and a phone call. Just in case some monster I had put away decided to come looking for me.

I answered the door with a pistol, sure I was still dreaming.

But I wasn't.

She was standing there.


Older now, a touch of gray streaking the once fiery halo of her hair.

I started to say her name, but she held a finger to my lips, nodding at the apartment, raising her eyebrows.

I made a sweeping motion with my hand, and then pointed over my shoulder, and then held up a single finger.

They swept the place for bugs yesterday, Scully.

Getting it, she nodded and entered.

"How long?" I asked.

"As long as it takes," she said, dropping into my arms.

The hug was nice, but I wanted more.

Much more.

"Why?" I asked, meaning, "Why now?"

"We have a problem," she whispered against my chest. "We as in you and your mother, or we as in you and me?"

"Us, Mulder," Scully whispered. "You and me."

I wondered what it was.

And then she dropped the big one.

"Our daughter is missing."


I pulled back, once again sure I was dreaming.

"Our WHAT?" I asked.

"Our daughter," Scully nodded, reaching for her wallet. She opened it and showed me the pictures. First, as a baby, then as a toddler, now as a little person.

Short, toothless smile.

Red hair and hazel-green eyes.

My nose, the poor kid.

Her mother's smile.

I led Scully to the couch, holding the picture four inches from my own nose.

"What's her name?" I demanded.

"Alison," Scully said. "Alison Walker. I'm Debby Walker now, Mulder."

"Debby," I said, trying it on for size.

It didn't fit.

Not a damn bit.

She'd always be Scully to me.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.

She shrugged. "We couldn't. No contact. Rules."

"You're here now," I pointed out.

She nodded. "Rules have changed, Mulder. They wouldn't look for her. They insisted on treating it as a local disappearance. The DOJ wouldn't let us use the Bureau to find her. They said it was too dangerous, that if anyone...if the people looking for us found out that she was missing...they could find us, find my mother."

"Find her," she finished.

"Do you think they took her?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"Fits the pattern of some other kidnappings in the area," she said softly. "Pedophile."

I handed the picture back, already sure what was going to happen next, but needing to hear it just the same.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"Find her," Scully said. "Find our daughter."


She gave me a blind phone number to call.

Just leave a message, she told me.

I'll find you.

And then she left.



It took me a month.

I found her.


My daughter.

I used every resource at the Bureau's disposal. VICAP. VCS. ISU.

And in the end, HRT.

They took the cabin in Montana, all eleven members swarming it like heavily-armed bugs.

He, the kidnapper, the child-molester, was gone.

He left Alison behind.

To die.

But she was a Mulder.

It'd take more than no food or water for a week to kill her. She was sick, but she'd live.

Alison made it to the hospital.

The medics told me she'd been...abused.

That was all I needed to hear.

As a Deputy Assistant Director, I had certain discretionary powers. I ordered the HRT to stand down, and the local office to stay away from the cabin.

I left a note, telling the bastard that I'd taken his toy.

Provoking him.

Taunting him.

Begging him.


He took the bait.

I called the blind number, left a bland message with a callback number.

Scully was at the hospital by the end of business.

And on the heels of her, half an hour later, the bastard.

I knew the minute I saw him.

It was obvious.

He was the one with the gun.

I drew down on him.

Shots fired, in the hall outside Alison's room.

When the smoke cleared, I had wound in my right shoulder to match the one in my left.

I lost a lot of blood.

Passed out to the sound of Scully screaming for the crash cart, her hands frantically trying to staunch the flow.

Woke to a hospital room two days later, my shoulder throbbing dully through the mask of narcotics to find Skinner by my bed.

"Is she safe?" I asked.

He nodded. "Both of them."

"W-where?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"Gone," was all he said.


The End

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