TITLE: The Genesis Project V AUTHOR: aRcaDIaNFall$ FEEDBACK: STILL welcomed, cherished and framed at arcadianfalls@yahoo.com.au. RATING: PG-13 SPOILERS: [minute ones] War Of The Coprohages, Dreamland. No others that I can think of. CLASSIFICATION: SRA WARNING: Mulder & Scully are MARRIED (eek! really??) DISTRIBUTION: Gossamer, Ephemeral and Xemplary are fine, others ask me first, please. SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully’s rocky relationship is strained further by a new case and the sudden introduction of a strange little girl into their lives, bringing the Genesis Project and Jacqueline’s involvement in it into question once again. Meanwhile, Jacqueline is having some problems of her own... AUTHOR'S NOTE: Number FIVE in the Genesis Project series. That's right, it's more evil than the energiser bunny! What’s more, they’re getting LONGER! But seriously - I apologise if somehow I haven’t given enough detailed sure-to-spoil info above, but I’ve tried to be as specific as possible without giving anything away, so please don’t chew me out over it! This fic swaps character POVs every part. You can find this fanfic in entirety at my website, http://www.geocities.com/arcadianfalls/ - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s The Genesis Project V by aRcaDIaNFall$ - SCULLY POV - "The third victim, Ellen Majorie Haywood, lived alone. She was reported missing on the 19th by a neighbour and police investigating the claim found a bath drawn and signs of a struggle in the bathroom, no physical evidence linking to the killer. On the bathroom floor lay an open bible, her own, with a verse marked. The same verse as the first two. Fourth victim, Gerald Mark Walder, family man, was out of town on business. Bible, his own, found on his hotel room bed. Same verse. And so on." Skinner paused from his reading and looked across his desk levelly. "Eighteen people are missing. Local PD are at their wits’ ends. No consistent MO: different races, genders and ages. No physical evidence. No signs of break-ins. The only thing linking these eighteen strangers is this-" He tossed a pile of glossy black and white photographs down on the desk, watching as they scattered. I reached out to slide one closer, examining the thick lines bordering the verse. "One Corinthians, fifteen fifty-one," Skinner announced. "'We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed - in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed.'" He paused. "Do either of you have any idea what this is about? "Can I take a guess and say it's some sort of religious whacko?" I turned in my seat to give Mulder the look he deserved, and he shrugged. "An educated religious whacko, that is. Somebody with actual knowledge of the scriptures, not just some guy who's skimmed through Revelation." I shifted in my chair a little. "There's nothing connecting the victims at all? They didn't all attend the same church?" "Same suburb, but different denominations," he responded. "Some weren't even churchgoers. It almost seems that the suspect is picking his victims, for lack of a better word, at random." "Very few premeditated killers pick their victims at random," I disagreed, adding, "assuming there’s foul play involved. There's always something which leads to them to select the victim." For some reason, something I couldn't quite put my finger on, this case was already making me uncomfortable. Was it because Mulder and I inevitably disagreed when it came to these sorts of cases? Of course it was. That wasn't really where I had doubts. My uncertainty was in whether we strong enough to last out the storm. "Then you and Mulder had better find out what it is." He removed his glasses and stared me down. "I've got the Justice Department breathing down my neck on this one. The eighth victim was the daughter of a respected D.A. If I don’t get this one solved..." He paused. “Let’s just say that my problems are now your problems.” "This isn't exactly an x-file, though, is it, Sir?" I queried, curious as to why he was assigning us the case. There were plenty of other good agents in the bureau, agents who would most likely be far more co-operative when working with law enforcement already on the case. "You haven't mentioned any links to the paranormal?" "We may be looking at a cult or cult-like operation, Agent Scully. It's a difficult case and I want the best on it." In other words, he believed this was an x-file. It was also a compliment, or as close to a compliment that we were ever going to get from him. I nodded my thanks and he turned back to his work. We were dismissed. Exiting the office, Mulder and I didn't speak until we reached the elevator. "So, what are your thoughts? Still subscribing to the religious whacko theory?" Mulder grinned at me. "Educated religious whacko," he corrected. "And yeah, I am. That's the only similarity we have amongst all the cases. It's all we have to work with." "Same neighbourhood," I demurred, adding, "There could be some sort of environmental factor." Mulder raised an eyebrow. "Cyanide in the water?" he chuckled. "Or are we looking at psychotic postal workers here?" "We've seen stranger things," I rallied. "We work on the x-files, Scully. Psychotic postal workers are too mundane for us." I tilted my head in acknowledgement. We stepped into the elevator and Mulder chose the floor. "So, where do we start?" "We can head up to Wheaton. Or else, we can stay here and do some background checks before we start. We cover more ground that way." "Stay here," I answered. "Astrid’s sleepover tonight, remember?” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - How could forget? Astrid had been looking forward to her first hosted sleepover for weeks now. The evening had originated as a movie night of the Shakespeare plays studied in class. Scully and I had been talked into it becoming an overnighter - otherwise, Astrid had explained, they wouldn’t have time to watch all the remakes of both Othello and Romeo and Juliet. Scully and I had merely smiled knowingly at that one. I remembered Sam’s sleepover birthday parties all too well. We spent the rest of the day in the office, working our way through a list of neighbourhood residents, doing background checks. I would have prefered to be out interviewing and investigating, but even if we had had a choice... These days Scully mainly wanted to stay close to home and I always tried to oblige her in that. We'd been walking the line of comfortability in our relationship - some days it seemed we were fine, while others there was a definite feeling of estrangement. But the last couple of weeks, we'd been better. Some of our cases had taken us away overnight and the time by ourselves had been beneficial. Working together drew us together as closely as it always had, and returning to a motel at night, knowing we wouldn't be faced with crying infants and incomprehensible homework problems, was a great relief. We had some time to ourselves, for once. Time for each other. But this case... the moment Skinner mentioned the religion issue I felt as if a cold hand had reached between Scully and I, the fingers tearing through the tenuous thread binding us together. I saw the sudden fear in her eyes as she glanced up at me and knew she felt it too. It was just past two when I could stand it no longer. I needed to be out on the road, face to face with suspects, seeing the scene for myself, not relying on faxes and e-mails and phone conversations. I was itching to get into this case, and I couldn’t do that while stuck in the office. I stood. “Let’s get moving, Scully.” She looked up, surprised. “Where?” “Wheaton. It’s only a half-hour drive. We can get there, check the neighbourhood out, and be back by six.” She looked doubtful for a moment, then nodded. She gestured to the papers spread over the desk. “Give me five minutes.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - We were running late. It was almost half past six and, as we left the house of the family of one of the missing, I took the driver’s seat. Mulder had talked me into staying to do that one last interview and I’d agreed against my better judgement. I’d promised Astrid we’d be home before her sleepover began, and with a thirty minute drive - longer, in traffic - ahead of us, I knew we weren’t going to be home in the next four minutes. Astrid was going to be mad. I was already mad. “We’re going to be late,” I said shortly as Mulder climbed into the front passenger seat. “Yeah, I know. Who knew she’d talk so much?” He glanced across at me, but I was busy pulling away from the curb, avoiding his eyes. “I thought we had time. Sorry.” “This is important to Astrid.” We’d missed out on too many things that were important to Astrid, not given her anywhere near the time she deserved. “I’m sorry,” he said again. I felt a little guilty about being so harsh and nodded, accepting the apology. My eyes flickered to the digital display of the car clock as the last digit changed. 6.28. “I guess we should call home,” I said finally. “Kathy should be okay to stay for a while longer.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - Listening to her end of the conversation, I watched her frown deepen with apprehension. “It’s just that I was just expecting Ka - No, you’ll be fine. Really. Just deal with the kids arriving. It’s okay, you’ll handle it. Get them to - yeah, the living room floor. Get Astrid to help you push the furniture back so they’ve got more space. They’ll still need the TV, though... And put the coffee table against the wall so there’s somewhere to put snacks. Just put some Doritos out when they get there... In the pantry, top shelf. Astrid knows where they are. That’s fine? Yeah, Mulder and I have to stop off and get more snacks for the kids.” She glanced across at me, tight lipped. “We’ll be there in about forty minutes. Depends on the traffic. Just leave it all to Astrid, okay? She knows what she’s doing.” Hanging up, she struggled to slip the phone back in her pocket, eyes still on the road. We were approaching heavy traffic. I was about to offer assistance but she shot me a look, as if reading my thoughts, and I immediately dropped the idea. Finally getting the phone back in her pocket, she sank back a little, resting both hands on the steering wheel. “Scully?” “What?” She didn’t even look at me. She was completely closed off. I cringed inside. “I love you.” It was a peace offering - not that I was the one instigating the warfare. The mask slipped for half a second and I saw the unhappiness on her face, in her eyes. She drew a shaky breath, glancing out her window. “Yeah, Mulder.” That was one of our bad times. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - We were waiting in the checkout queue at the supermarket, standing as far apart from each other as we could in the cramped space. I needed room to breathe at that moment. Mulder was holding the basket and kept shifting it from hand to hand as it got too heavy. He’d looked at me doubtfully as I’d tossed in packet after packet of salsa chips and microwave popcorn and every conceivable type of chocolate-covered ninety-five-percent-sugar candy on the shelf, but I knew how much seven eight-to-twelve year olds could eat in one night. I glanced across at him, trying to figure out why I was having such a hard time putting up with his closeness, only to discover his eyes on me. I pulled away, glancing around the supermarket uncomfortably. My eyes lit on a rack of magazines by the checkout, specifically a copy of ‘SHE’. “Dump him or hump him?” It challenged. “Rate your man!” I cringed at the catchline, but, after a moment’s hesitation, reached out and picked up a copy, casually flipping through it. It was the sort of magazine I’d always looked upon with disdain, even in my teenage years when it seemed that everybody else was giggling over it, following the step-by-step instructions for flawless skin and ‘kissable lips’ in utter earnesty. Surreptitiously skimming through the contents, I flipped to the page, glancing up at Mulder again. He’d begun piling the food on the counter but, as if sensing my eyes on him, he glanced back down at me, his eyes flicking briefly to the magazine I held, open, before returning to my face. He gave me a quizzical half-smile and I returned it awkwardly, looking down again and turning a little so he wouldn’t see what I was reading. “Going out for dinner, he -” Ran the first question. “A, suggests a home cooked meal instead and you stay home and order pizza. B, takes you to his ‘favorite restaurant’, which means he can order his usual burger and fries and can afford to pay for the meal. C, asks where you want to go and takes enough cash to cover it.” That was pretty irrelevant, I mused. We only ate out together if we were on a case, and we were always aware of how it would look on our expense account when we chose a place to eat. No lobster and caviar for us. Accounting would have a heart attack. I skipped through the next few questions, all in the same vein, until I came to one that struck me. “How much does he really know about you?” It questioned. “A, He thinks quoting Rhett Butler’s “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn” displays knowledge of the literary classics and also covers up for not knowing your last name. B, he knows your name and never forgets your birthday, but what about your favorite perfume or that first crush? C, His thirst for knowledge about-” “Scully?” I slapped the magazine shut, looking up sharply, embarrassed. “What?” “You going to buy that?” Both he and the clerk were looking at me expectantly, making me feel ridiculous. “Uh, yeah.” I slapped it down on the counter, face down, pushing past Mulder to pick up the packed grocery bags as he paid. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - She bolted out of the 7-11 and was waiting for me when I reached the car, again, in the driver’s seat. The shopping bags were on the back seat. She’d pulled out the magazine and had it open, resting against the steering wheel as she read, a deep frown marring her brow. I slid in quietly beside her. “Patricia Cornwall’s latest thriller?” I teased. I wanted to lighten the mood between us, shift our relationship back to a safer realm. She slapped the magazine shut again and reached back to tuck it in between the Tostitos and the Pringles. Turning back, she yanked her seatbelt around herself and gunned the engine. I couldn’t tell if she was angry with me or what. It looked more like frustration, the self-contemptuous kind, but I couldn’t be certain. “Mulder, how well do you think you know me?” she asked suddenly. I was surprised by the question. It wasn’t one we often asked each other or discussed. Taking a deep breath, I considered the question, hesitant about answering, afraid of giving an incorrect response. “I know how your mind works. I know your heart. I know the struggles you face at work, the conflicts between -” “You think you do.” Her words disturbed me. “What do you mean?” She half-shrugged, looking more than a little agitated herself. “I don’t know. You don’t ... You never really get inside my head, see what I’m really thinking, how I really -” “You won’t let me!” This was ridiculous. I felt unjustly accused. “You won’t open yourself up to me, Scully. Even now.” “It’s not easy,” she said stiffly. “You don’t even try any more,” I shot back. I was angry that I was the one being held responsible. She was the one who always shut me out, left me in the dark as to what she was feeling and how I should tread. “Do you even know what my favourite food is, Mulder? Why I left medicine and joined the FBI? What I wore to my senior prom?” “Why do those things matter, Scully? To you, now? To us, now? Why is it so important that I know those things?” “Because it’s what I’m made up of, Mulder. People are shaped by their past, shaped by their memories. I’m still the same person I was at my senior prom, or when I dated Jack Willis at the academy. I’m just older, a little wiser, a little changed by everything we’ve been through. But I’m still me.” I winced when she mentioned Willis’ name. Too many visuals. He in my place; his arms around her as she giggled, reaching out to wake her up as she fell asleep in the car by gently trailing a finger across her cheek. Did Scully ever think about all the women in my past? She must have. Diana, Phoebe, even flirting with Dr Berenbaum and Detective White. Did she ever see them in her place the way I saw men from her past in mine? “I know you’re still you,” I said finally, my voice strained. “And I’m still me.” We drove off in silence, and I wondered. Why was she driving this wedge between us? Why now, when we were trying to restore equilibrium? - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - “Hi Mrs Moss!” One of Astrid’s friends beamed at me as we entered the apartment before scampering back to the rest of the group, giggling. I didn’t bother to correct her, but instead kept moving as Mulder dumped the mountain of food out on the kitchen counter. I put the bottles of Coke and juice in the fridge to chill, then moved over to Astrid, sitting on the couch with Erin on her lap, the centre of attention as she described how she was teaching Erin with flashcards as a school science project. Erin had begun to master the skill of sitting up unassisted, but constant cuddling meant she had few opportunities to perfect the art. “Sorry we’re late.” I ruffled Astrid’s hair and lifted Erin into my arms. “You better put the first movie on.” I gestured to the stack five-high of hired DVDs sitting next to the TV. Astrid gazed at me for a moment in that way that I always found a little disturbing. The promise Mulder and I had made to her and Josh a few months earlier resounded in my brain, the promise that we wouldn’t let our relationship get so strained again that it shook the family. Were we keeping the promise or not? I wondered. Most days we both tried to keep civil, not to snap, but it was so hard to bridge that estrangement. The kids were better lately, but I would have been lying if I’d said we were all comfortable with each other. But we could only keep trying... Arguments over whose sleeping bag went where ensued as Astrid put in the first movie and rearranged the TV. I joined Jacqueline and Josh at the table where he was doing homework. Or trying. “Hey, buddy.” I gave him a quick hug hello and he clung to me tightly. “What’s wrong?” I glanced at Jacqueline and she looked uncomfortable. Peeling Josh off, I kneeled down, Erin still balanced on my hip, so I could look into his face. “Tough homework?” I guessed. Such a thing was hardly a rare occurence. He half-shrugged, then nodded. I nodded understandingly, rising. “I’m going to put Erin down for a nap, okay? When I come back we’ll see what we can do.” He nodded again and I patted him on the head, moving off. Mulder was finishing changing out of work clothes and took Erin from me, lifting her above his head. “How’s my monkey?” She grinned and gurgled and I couldn’t help smiling. “Don’t get her excited. It’s time for a nap.” I tried to keep it a gentle reminder, not an admonition. He’d been so good with her lately - even when I was in a foul mood I could still appreciate how hard he was trying, how much he was getting to know her. I’d had a closer bond with her since the beginning - time spent breastfeeding, rocking to sleep, those little things that I’d somehow just never trusted Mulder to do. It seemed he was finally catching up. He drew her closer to her again, taking her right hand and playing with it. “Mommy won’t let us have any fun, will she?” He pouted playfully. I rolled my eyes, amused, glad that the wounds from earlier had begun to heal already. Reaching to take Erin from him, I caught a whiff of smelly diaper. “You want to go order pizza for the kids? I’m going to change Erin and try to get her to sleep.” He nodded, running his hands through his hair. “Yeah, sure.” “Dana?” I was just buttoning up a clean jumpsuit when Jacqueline appeared in the open doorway. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” I picked up Erin, giving her a teething ring to gum on, and turned to face Jacqueline. I didn’t particularly feel like dealing with her at that moment, but I didn’t really have a choice. I wished she hadn’t been the one to answer the phone when I’d rung for. “Sure.” She closed the door carefully after herself and took a seat in the rocker, drawing her knees up, resting her chin on her knees thoughtfully. “Are you okay?” I asked, curiosity overcoming the uncomfortable distance between us. Rarely was she so vulnerable and pensive. She nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess. It was just... weird, tonight. Greeting all the parents and then watching all the kids. Playing Mom again. In a way.” I sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling Erin close against me, my hands wrapped protectively around her tiny body. She was a small baby - so tiny, even though she was born only two days before due date, that Mulder had almost been able to hold her in his two hands. Even now, gaining weight properly, she was still tiny. Small boned, not a roly-poly ball of fat like some babies, but there was nothing frail about her. Her bright eyes looked up at me and she beamed, offering me her teething ring. I smiled, bending to kiss her on the forehead. When I looked up again I saw Jacqueline’s wistful gaze on me. “I guess I should tell you,” she smiled self-consciously. “I passed myself off as the kids’ aunt. I thought the parents would be more comfortable if they knew I was family.” “That’s fine,” I reassured her, though I wondered if the news would annoy Mulder. I gazed at her, trying to size up what was bothering her. Her phrasing was interesting - not ‘if they thought I was family’, but ‘if they knew’. I wondered if she’d done that deliberately or not. “So, what’s the problem?” I had to get right to the point. She sighed. “Josh has to do a family history project for school.” I drew a deep breath and expelled it slowly. I realised immediately how difficult a situation that put him in. “I guess you could say he’s wrestling with his parentage,” Jacqueline added. “Which family to do. He’s also worried about what should be kept secret. His relationship with me, for example.” “We’ve all told a lot of lies, haven’t we?” I mused unhappily. I’d never wanted to bring the kids up living lies, but there hadn’t been any alternatives. Legal records said that they’d been born to Roger and Cate Moss and, following the Moss’ deaths, adopted by Mulder and I. Legal records forged and manipulated thanks to Langly, Frohike and Byers. To have gotten these records honestly would have required more investigation than was safe. Too much risk of losing the kids. I broke the silence. “What if he did both?” “Would you be comfortable with that?” I considered the issue. I knew that Josh still remembered - however hazily - his life with Jacqueline and the Moss’. I had no desire to hide it from him, to deny his past. Maybe it would even be beneficial for him to do some research, get it all down on paper, more official. Maybe it would be beneficial for us all. “I’m okay with that,” I agreed. “As long as Josh is.” Jacqueline nodded. Her eyes lit on Erin in my arms and she smiled again. “Could I -” “But it’s her na-” I began to protest, but then gave up, passing her into Jacqueline’s eager arms. “Two minutes, and then you put her down for her nap, okay?” “Cross my heart and hope to die,” she grinned. I smiled. “You spend far too much time with the kids.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - JACQUELINE POV - They were trying unsuccessfully to keep out of each others’ way. I could see there was something wrong between them, but, keeping with a recent resolution, I kept silent about it. The pizza arrived and I watched as the kids sat in a circle around the pizza boxes, eyes glued to the screen one minutes, giggling and telling jokes the next. I felt distinct regret at having missed such a stage in my childhood - to be girly and silly and pig out. Fox and Dana and Josh and I had dinner at the kitchen table - they had pizza, I grilled myself a sandwich. The conversation at the table was less than inspiring. “I was thinking,” Dana said around a mouthful of pizza. “Skinner said that none of the houses were broken into. How did the abductor get in? Are we looking for somebody with a history of break and enters, maybe? Unless they were invited in, which gives us a whole other list of subjects.” “We’ll check it out tomorrow,” Fox agreed. He seemed eager to discuss the case. “Can’t tomorrow.” Dana reached across to wipe some tomato sauce from Fox’s upper lip with a napkin. He gave her a small smile of thanks. It looked comfortable enough, but I could see the strain. “It’s Saturday. Astrid wanted to go bumperbowling with her friends.” “Oh.” Fox looked disappointed, almost annoyed, although he covered immediately. “I don’t want to go bumperbowling,” Josh objected quietly. “Sure you do, kiddo,” Fox ruffled his hair reassuringly. Josh glanced up at Dana. “The rest of us are going, sweetie,” Dana pointed out gently. “Anyway, you liked it last time we went.” “I’ll stay here and watch Josh and Erin, if you want,” I offered, seeing Josh’s frown. “We can get started on the family history project.” Dana’s eyes met mine in a tug-of-war. Sometimes these days I sensed in her a reluctance to let me in her life, a frustration at my presence, my interference, the way I was integral to the kids’ lives. She never mentioned it. I didn’t know if she ever would, or if it would remain an unspoken bridge between us forever. But she nodded. “Thanks.” We were silent for the rest of the meal. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - I guess nobody ever said it was going to be easy. But I never expected it to be this hard. It was almost as if Scully was trying to make it harder for us, ripping open the wound as it began to heal over. Why couldn’t she let us have time to heal? What was she so afraid of? Jacqueline offered an excuse and left soon after dinner. The girls were using the coffee table so Josh cleared off the kitchen table and set up his chess set, placing each piece precisely in the center of it’s square. Then he sat quietly, looking expectantly at Scully and I. It was a welcome enough diversion for me. I had the whole rest of the night to burn and didn’t want to spent it avoiding Scully or trying not to look too awkward around her in front of Astrid’s friends. Sitting opposite him, I let him make the first move. He beat me. The sad thing was that I wasn’t even going easy on him. Of course, it was a game I had played only rarely since college, and Josh and Astrid played a game every odd night. After meticulously packing away the chess set, Josh crept into the circle of girls to grab a handful of cheeseballs. One of Astrid’s friends thought he was cute and pulled him into her lap like Astrid did Erin, wrapping her arms around him tightly and talking to him as if he were an toddler. I was certain that Josh would try to squirm out of her arms but he surprised me, giving a shy giggle and acting every bit of the three year old she assumed he was. I’d never seen Josh doing the baby play-act before - with Astrid the babyish pouting was a dime a dozen, but usually Josh resented anybody treating him anything less than adult. It only hammered home the fact that I barely knew the kids any more. He stayed to watch the rest of the movie with them, half falling asleep in the older girl’s arms. As the credits began to roll the girls began to bounce around the room excitedly as they psychoanalysed the characters and critiqued the way the actors had chosen to portray the different roles. That, amongst devouring two more enormous bowls of popcorn Scully had microwaved. She took the opportunity to send Josh to get ready for bed, and five minutes later I followed her into the kids’ bedroom as she tucked Josh in. He was yawning, still half asleep, even though it was only just before nine. He still had the curtain of blankets hanging down around his bed and Scully parted it, holding it open wide enough to see his face as she said goodnight. I waited until she’d finished and then moved forward, grabbing the blanket before it flapped closed again. Sitting on the edge of his bed, I let it fall around me, staring around the dark cavern. “It’s pretty dark in here, don’t you think, kiddo?” The only light was coming from where the blanket just failed to meet the wall, and the small stegasaurus nightlight which gave off a green glow. I hadn’t realised he still used it. “I guess it’s good to have a place of your own, huh?” He nodded, silently, his eyes on me sleepily. I glanced around at what I could see in the minimal light. He had dinosaur posters on the underside of Astrid’s bed, dinosaur posters taped to the wall. His row of dinosaur figurines were blu-tacked to the thick oak rails at the ends of the bed. Tiny constructed planes hung from threads from the ‘ceiling’. He used less than half the bed to sleep - piles of books and magazines and even a few encyclopedias were stacked along the edges. “We’ve just got some things to get through at the moment... then we’ll look at getting a bigger place,” I promised. He yawned, but his gaze on me remained steady, unfaltering. “Mommy just needs a hug,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I bet you’re right,” I agreed. He wiggled under and I tucked the covers around him. “‘Night, buddy.” The girls were standing in line outside the bathroom, each hugging a bundle of pajamas, still eagerly discussing Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes as Romeo and Juliet. No doe-eyed lusting here, though - they were a bunch of cynical realists arguing over the production’s flaws. “Try to keep it down, girls,” Scully warned. “The baby’s asleep.” Scully slipped into the bathroom the moment it was free and I heard the shower start up. Pulling back the bedcovers, I discovered the magazine she’d been hiding earlier shoved under her pillow. Why was she so afraid to admit her own femininity? I wondered. Did she think that somehow it made her less in my eyes? She had a constant need to reassert her own strength. I flipped it open; out of idly curiosity, no more, catching the odd word or two. “Free makeover,” “Lipstick Quiz,” “mascara tips,” “hiding blemishes.” I found the page Scully had had it open at before, a “rate your man” quiz. How trite, I thought scornfully, as I read through it. Were all women this superficial, I wondered? Chose potential husbands over whether or not they opened the car door for you and pulled out your chair or flossed twice a day and knew all the different erogenous zones? Didn’t going to hell and back to save your life win him any points in favour? What about infiltrating government facilities or taking life-saving technology at gunpoint? Clearly not, unless you remembered to give her her favourite flowers. I flipped the page over and continued through the magazine until I came across a slim tearout booklet near the back of the magazine. “Pamper Me,” declared the model on the front cover, smiling brazenly at the camera. “For Men who Lack a Romantic Touch!” The caption ran. “The Secret Formula for a Fulfilling, Intimate Night She’ll Never Forget!” Just staring at the cover I could envision the suggestions within. I could be romantic when it served my purpose. I knew the whole list. Mood lighting and wine. The right type of music. Listen to what she says. Laugh at the right moments, pull sympathetic pouty faces at the right moments. Keep physical contact, no matter how slight. A finger on the arm, a hand on the knee, a kiss on the side of the neck, on the fingertips. Don’t push her if she’s uncomfortable or uncertain. Yeah, I’d been brought up as a gentleman. Out of curiosity, I flipped open the booklet. A smiling couple flashing their pearly whites. “Number One,” the page proclaimed, “Talk to her. If she’s feeling down, try to find out why. An attentive listener will encourage her to share her problems. You’ll both benefit from it.” “Mulder?” I slapped the booklet shut, conjuring up a look of pure innocence as I turned to face Scully. She stood in the doorway in pajamas and robe, staring at me curiously. “Are you reading my magazine?” “Are you kidding?” I gave her a teasing look of mock-revulsion. “There are far pleasanter ways of learning about lips.” To emphasize my point, I stood, shoving the magazine back under her pillow, strode across to the doorway and locked my hands around her shoulders, kissing her lightly on the lips. Her face tilted upward to meet my own and I don’t know if that was a conscious decision she’d made or just an unintentional reponse. Why were we being so hard on each other, I wondered? We were both putting up shields to protect ourselves, but in doing so we were blocking each other out. She moved to pull away from me but I caught her wrist, bringing her hand to my lips, kissing her fingertips. She drew in a breath and released it slowly. “Mulder, do you think those people are still alive?” “The case?” She nodded, troubled. I took both her hands in mine, rubbing my thumbs over her palms. Gentle possessiveness. “No, I don’t,” I said honestly. “The first abductions took place three months ago. Local PD have been searching their hearts out and not found anything. I think the most logical assumption is that they’re dead.” “They haven’t found bodies,” she pointed out. “What if they don’t?” “What does that mean to us, you mean?” I clarified, staring at her curiously. For a case we’d only just gotten, she seemed unusually preoccupied with it. She nodded and I considered the point. “We try our damndest, check out all the leads, and move on if we come up with nothing.” “And you’ll be content to just move on?” She eyed me appraisingly, still frowning. I knew she was thinking back to Samantha, but, to be honest, I myself wasn’t associating this case with my sister. This was different. I felt in my heart that these missing people were already dead, that we were already investigating their murders, that their bodies were the only evidence lacking. And we’d find the bodies, I knew. Maybe not Scully or I, but they’d be uncovered eventually. Was this where Scully’s thoughts lay, I wondered. I thought not. Something told me that she wasn’t thinking about this case, not really. Not thinking about Sam, not really. “What’s this about, Scully?” I caught a stray tendril of her hair and smoothed it between my fingers. She bowed her head and I dropped my fingers to lift her chin. “Don’t go all shy on me, beautiful.” She looked at me curiously. It was rare I used such endearments and I wondered why not. Maybe because over the years I’d managed to turn ‘Scully’ itself into an endearment, a caress, a promise. My beautiful, my precious - did she know how much admiration and deeply abiding love was in that single word? “What’s our relationship, Mulder?” she asked. Although her tone was quiet I could see the agonizing, unhappy uncertainty in her eyes. I longed to take away that pain, the uncertainty, but was afraid she’d pull away if I tried to bridge the physical distance. “We’re partners,” I said quietly. “Friends... best friends. Lovers. Parents.” She chewed pensively on her lower lip and I could see the answer hadn’t satisfied her. Would any answer have satisfied her, I wondered, feeling a little annoyed. Why was it so hard to please her? “Are you content with our life, Scully?” I asked quietly, studying her face for her reaction. She frowned, pulling away from me and moving over to the dresser, grabbing her hairbrush and beginning to pull it through her hair silently. “Scully?” I pressed. More silence. The hand ceased brushing. She just stood, staring at her reflection in the mirror, hairbrush in limp hands. I moved closer, taking the brush from her. “Come here,” I beckoned, moving back over to the bed. She sat on the edge of the bed, eyes down, as I drew the brush through her hair as gently as possible, careful not to scratch her face as I drew it back from the front. “It’s the waste, Mulder,” she said finally. “That’s what I can’t stand.” “What do you mean?” I kept brushing, careful, rhythmic, gentle. “A child is conceieved... and some parents have to try so hard. They get excited over the birth, relatives send cards and toys and clothes. The baby is cared for, bathed and fed and burped and rocked to sleep. Parents put so much energy into sterilising and baby-proofing... The child goes to pre-school and the parents worry about social skills and whether their child can thread macaroni on wool as quickly as the child next door. Then school and highschool and the kid struggles through subjects, and then college and job training and working hard to get that payrise or promotion... and then they die. So much is invested in a life and then it’s taken away and it’s all gone to waste. The orthodontist and the piano lessons and the private schooling... it’s all wasted.” “Why wasted? A life is lived, a quality of life ensured... We’re only here on this earth for a while, Scully. We should be looking to today, tomorrow, not to death. We shouldn’t let death stop us from living.” She shook her head. “That’s not it. Not really. It’s...” She sighed. Glancing in the mirror, I could see her downcast face, the weary struggle to voice her secrets. “It’s all the death that we face. Our desensitisation to it. When we think about these missing people we don’t think about them as a baby in creche when I taught Sunday School, or as our parents’ childhood friends, or as somebody who had a favourite food and likes and dislikes and so many stories to tell. They’re just another name on the list.” “You’re thinking about our own mortality,” I realised. She didn’t want to end up another name on the list. “Maybe it’s as you said. Maybe I’m not content. Not with myself, who I am. With us. With the world, the universe in general. I don’t know.” “You don’t know why?” I wondered. “Maybe I thought there was somewhere to go, a journey in life,” she mused honestly. “Something great to be discovered or achieved.” “Life isn’t about destination, it’s about the journey itself.” “I know, I know...” She was getting frustrated, as if unable to really express her thoughts. I laid down the hairbrush and sat back, pulling her onto my lap, my arms around her firmly. She was rigid for a moment, then settled against me with a sigh, her hands sliding over mine. “Do you love me, Scully?” I whispered. “With all my heart,” came her reply, her voice even softer than mine. Almost wistful. “I’d die for you, Mulder. Without hesitation.” “Let’s hope it never comes to that, huh?” I teased gently, kissing her hair. “Amen to that,” she said softly. Silence settled between the two of us. It was a pleasantly numb sort of companionship, no anger or frustration, not anymore. Satisfying, for the moment, at least. “Do you want me to love you, Scully?” I wondered aloud. Lately I’d been wondering more and more, unable to help seeing that so many of the problems between us were - well, not exactly her fault, but somehow exaggerated by her, becoming unconscious excuses to push me away, keep her own heart guarded. Or was that just wishful thinking, wanting to take the blame from my own shoulders? “Why do you say that?” Surprise showed in her eyes, innocent for a moment, then clouded confusion. “Because it leaves you vulnerable. If you love somebody, let somebody into your heart, you’ve got something to lose. A weakness.” “You’ve been my weakness for a long time, Mulder.” She paused pensively, then sighed. “I don’t feel like I understand you anymore, Mulder. You’re too complex, too brilliant. I could get around that before, but now you’re not giving me any clues.” Another pause. “Or maybe I’m just not hearing them.” “Maybe you’re not even listening,” I suggested quietly, unhappy at the suggestions. Since when had simply loving someone been such an enormous task, so complicated? - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - His hands were still around me, so warm and firm. I eased them apart, playing with each finger individually. His hands twitched a little and I glanced up at him, seeing the unhappiness in his eyes. Was I just creating these problems myself, I wondered? Making mountains out of molehills? An emotional hypochondriac, coming up with excuses to prevent myself from feeling emotionally secure, from fully opening my heart to another? I realised with a shock that I probably was. True, we had problems, but were any of them so enormous as they seemed, any bigger than our problems in the past had been? “I thought we trusted each other completely,” he said. He was so quiet, but I caught the little signs. He was near tears. It wasn’t something that I condemned him for, but, rather, I condemned myself. Mulder was a creature who’d searched long and hard for security, he needed it. I wanted it too, but there was a part of me that still flirted with uncertainty, with danger, excitement. That was why I came back to work, why I couldn’t have stayed at home and played Martha Stewart. Was what why I wasn’t allowing myself to stay settled, that I was so afraid of finding life mundane? Oh dear God... My mind, having seized the idea and run with it, an explanation for my unfathomable behaviour, came to a screeching halt. “I do trust you completely,” I said quietly, my voice sounding choked even to my own ears. I extricated myself from his grip so I could kneel and face him, cupping his bowed head with my hands, gently caressing, kissing away the tear that traced its path down his cheek. “I love you completely. And I’m yours completely, Mulder. Sometimes I struggle in the committment, but I’m yours. I want to be yours. You’ve just got to help me. Help me find peace in myself, to stick to the path I’ve chosen, the right path.” He nodded, sniffing back more tears, and I kissed his forehead, his eyelids, lips, wanting to reclaim him, wanting to give him a promise I couldn’t rescind. I didn’t want to slip back, let the walls reerrect themselves. I needed him to stay close, his heart close to my own, the lines of communication kept open. We already had such a wealth of knowledge about each other, but we had to keep learning, keep exploring, keep searching to understand. “Let’s be kind to each other, huh?” I whispered, caressing his face. “Let’s look after each other again. We can’t let the world pull us apart. We can’t let that happen.” “I know we can’t,” he murmured roughly. I kissed him again, and he kissed me back, on my lips, in my hair, on my neck. He nuzzled his face against my breast, his lips laying tiny, almost inperceptible kisses. It had been a long time since we’d made love, but right then wasn’t the time, we knew. Instead we simply lay together, limbs interwined, fingertips caressing, lips gently grazing, tickling, whispering sweet promises to each other, soft endearments. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - I padded across the kitchen floor in bare feet, not wanting to alert the girls to my presence. They were engrossed in Othello, almost frozen with concentration, only the odd hand reaching out blindly to grab a handful of popcorn or another Gobstopper. I glanced across at the time on the microwave. Ten twenty-two. They’d be going for a good two hours longer. At least. With that much sugar and caffein in their bloodstreams they could stay up all night. Light spilled out as I opened the fridge, pulling out the bottle of white wine I’d put in to chill about an hour earlier. There was a pair of wine glasses I’d tucked in beside and I grabbed them also, wrapping a finger around each slender neck, the glass ice cold in my hands. “Hey.” She came up behind me, sliding her arms around my waist in a brief hug. Moving away, she took the wine bottle from my hands and produced a corkscrew, pulling the cork out with a dull pop. I filled each glass and she held hers up, smiling at me. “So, what are we celebrating?” I held her gaze thoughtfully before responding. “Us.” She nodded, taking a sip, and staring at me, assessing. Fingering the glass, she remarked, “This is chilled. Are we talking precognitive visions here or ‘SHE’ magazine’s advice?” “Celebrating us,” I said again, half-shrugging. “No matter what shape our relationship was in, I think it’s stil a pretty big achievement that we’re still alive today.” Still alive and still together. “Besides, I just thought it would create some time to talk.” “Talk.” She savoured the word, then nodded, taking another sip, eyes searching my face. “How’s Erin?” Her sudden fit of sneezing and sniffling had forced an end to our quiet, odd sort of lovemaking. “She’s got a cold,” she answered briefly. Laying down her glass and her free hand on my chest, she stood on tiptoes to kiss me. Before our kisses had been gentle, lips barely brushing. Now, caught up in the relief of declaring peace, of being ourselves once more, we were delving a little deeper, more exciting, more arousing. “M-Mu-” My lips on hers, interrupting her protests, again and again. Finally, she managed to push me away. “Mulder!!” A mortified giggle errupted from her and she clapped her hand to her mouth. Glancing across at the semi-circle of girls on the floor, I realised the reasons for her protests - the amused sniggering and whispering on the floor. The grin Astrid was trying to hide. She was trying to take a sip of wine when I turned back, and still half-choking with silent laughter. I took the glass from her, putting it down beside mine on the counter. Getting a grip, I swung her up into my arms. “Mulder!” she hissed a protest, unstoppable tears of laughter rolling down her flushed cheeks. “What are their parents going to think?” I grinned, kissing her. “They’re going to be jealous.” Readjusting her grip around my neck, she shook her head, disbelieving. “You’re nuts.” She giggled. There was something wonderfully different about Scully when she giggled or laughed, that awful cackle I loved to hear - like she was unleashing her inner desires, bubbling over with vitality and amusement and joy. “You’re beautiful,” I grinned. I was determined not to let anything stop me, to handle every single thing that came our way. I carried her into our bedroom, awkwardly pulling the door closed, laying her down on the bed and climbing atop her, kissing her tenderly. “Mulder, Erin -?” “She’s asleep,” I assured her. “Can’t you hear her? She sounds like a lawnmower.” Scully giggled again as she listened to Erin’s heavy, laborious breathing. Her smile softened as she fingered my chin. “Do you really love me?” she whispered. “With all my heart,” I promised. That was one of our better times. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - I heard the faint creak as the door was inched open, but ignored it, still too deep in slumber. It was only with the quiet whisper of “Mommy” that I gathered the energy to open my eyes and lift my head a little to see Astrid standing in the doorway, a shadow amongst shadows. “Yeah, honey?” “We’re all awake.” “What time is it?” I twisted my neck, straining to see the alarm clock. Six fourteen. I groaned. “Go back to sleep.” “They don’t want to. They’re hungry. Can we get breakfast?” “If you wait an hour, Daddy’ll cook you pancakes. How’s that sound?” “What do we do now, then?” “Have some Cheerios or something.” Already, I felt half-asleep again. “Put another movie on or watch cartoons.” “Okay, Mommy.” I thought she’d gone, but after another few seconds, she spoke again. “Mommy, do you want me to feed Erin breakfast?” “Is she awake?” I tuned my ear to my daughter in the crib, who gave a little splutter in response. Sick baby. Always with a cold or cough or rash. At least the age of earaches seemed to have passed. I heard a hiccuping gurgle as Astrid cooed to her, lifting her up. “Let’s let Mommy sleep in, huh?” She grabbed Erin’s favourite light-up rattle from the crib and Erin gave another spluttery gurgle as she gripped it eagerly, chewing on the handle. I heard the door creak again as they went out, and I settled down on the pillows, Mulder’s breath gently on the back of my neck. Sleep came instantly, the sleep of one revelling in the knowledge that their guard can finally be let down. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - STILL SCULLY POV - I stood watching him for several minutes before he was alerted to my presence by Josh, tugging at my sleeve and asking me whether he was allowed pancakes too. He turned and threw me a charming, teasing smile, holding my gaze for several seconds. “Good morning.” “Good morning,” I responded demurely, allowing him only the most enigmatic of smiles. He grinned and turned back to flip the pancakes. As I listened to the sizzling of the frying pan and the girls talking around mouthfuls of syrup-covered pancakes and Erin’s sniffling, hiccuping breathing, I studied the casual confidence with which he held her on his side, the way her tiny hand trustingly gripped the collar of his t-shirt and her other hand kept reaching for the spatula. Despite her cold, I knew her eyes would be alert, alive with interest in the world around her. An inquisitive child, always prodding, touching, tugging. I moved over to the pantry, pulling out an orange, and went to work peeling it, cutting it up into quarters and then into tiny pieces, tasting a piece to check it was sweet. Taking one piece between my fingers, I popped it in Erin’s mouth. Juice dribbled down her chin as she chewed it and she grinned. I was about to feed her a second piece when Mulder asked if I wanted to take her and feed her in the highchair. I smiled, offering the orange to him instead, and then another piece to Erin. “Daddy’s a little silly sometimes, isn’t he?” I teased. “Because we’re really perfectly happy here, aren’t we?” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - She had that expression on her face - that expression I’d seen only fleetingly in the past, during those first six or seven years of partnership. It was that wistful look, that this-is-what-I’m-missing-out-on? look of realisation, that expression of joy and wonder and longing. When was the last time I’d seen that look? Not recently. We’d been too busy over the past few months, even before that. Too busy, too stressed, too caught up in our own turmoils, to have fully appreciated the beauty in our lives. I don’t think I’d seen that look quite so unrestrained, so joyous, since the night Erin came screaming into the world. Was this what we would have been like if it were only the three of us, I wondered? If we’d had the time to devote only to each other and Erin? How different would we be, given time to appreciate every moment? And, more importantly, how were we going to hold onto this rediscovered closeness? Because it was inevitably going to slip away; something would go wrong, we’d rub each other the wrong way, a case would cause a difference of opinion. It was impossible to stay balanced, the pinnacle of happiness, but the last thing in the world that I wanted was us tumbling back down to the bottom and falling flat on our faces, again having doubts about our marriage. I didn’t want to rollercoast forever. I didn’t think I’d be able to handle it. I needed a promise of stability. Last night I’d been given one, yes, but was it really something that *could* be given? Jacqueline turned up at nine-thirty and a quarter of an hour later Scully and I packed the seven girls into two cars. Finding the right-sized shoes and bowling balls at the alley was chaotic, even worse was when I was sent off to get nine sodas. Scully folded and piled up all the coats and sweaters as the kids keyed in their names, counting to ensure that all shoes shed still remained in the general vicinity. “I’ll have to write my mom a note of apology when we get home,” she said as she finally sat down next to me. “We were forever going bowling with friends when we were kids. Once we took up three lanes. It must have been a nightmare to supervise.” I chuckled, watching her as she stared ahead. She was wearing casual black pants, a blue knit turtleneck and an unbuttoned black jacket, sitting in that decidedly unfeminine, very Scullyish way, feet planted apart, hunched over, hands clasped together, thoughtful expression as she stared ahead. So Scully. So, so, Scully. She reached down, unbuttoning her black leather boots, a pair Astrid had nicknamed ‘wicked witch’ shoes because of the pointed toe. Feet small already, the boots only made them seem smaller. “Changed your mind?” I asked curiously. I hadn’t been sure before whether she would want to bowl or not. She’d said no, she’d just sit and keep an eye on the kids. Do the good parent thing, in other words. It was a pity - I’d never been bowling with Scully before, not unless you counted the case with the apparition caught up in the pinsweeper. It was yet another activity that would have been a date, if we’d taken that path. Sometimes I almost wished - She shook her head, pulling off the sockettes and drawing her feet up, taking one in the palm of her hand and rubbing it. “Cramped feet.” She gestured to the boots. “They’re not broad enough across the toes.” I drew the foot into my own lap. “They look plenty big enough for these little feet.” I ran a finger along the underside of her toes and she pulled away with a small, truncated shriek. “Tickle me and die,” she warned. “Besides,” she added with mock-annoyance. “I don’t have ‘little feet’. They’re size seven.” I gave her a look of horror. “Hey, you’re absolutely right, Scully,” I said solemnly. “I apologise. I should have never said you have little feet. They’re not little, they’re *tiny*.” She shot me a murderous look and I chuckled. Her face broke in a grin and she laughed, leaning in against me with a sigh of contentment. “Have I told you lately that I love you?” I murmured. “Not in the last ten minutes,” she retorted playfully, lifting her lips to meet mine. As we drew apart I realised that one of Astrid’s friends was waiting, patiently, for one of us. I couldn’t remember her name, but she was definately a no-nonsense child who had never been shy a day in her life. I guess kids that bright had no need for shyness. “Mrs Mulder, I need to go to the bathroom.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - Mrs Scully, Mrs Mulder, Mrs Moss, sometimes even just ‘Mrs Astrid’s Mom’ - I’ve pretty much learned to respond to any of the above, even though I found it impossible to see myself as ‘Mrs Mulder’, a name I assocated only with Mulder’s mother. Jenna Workman, the youngest of Astrid’s friends but one of the noisiest. She waited as I pulled my boots back on, held my hand as we walked to the ladies’ room and used up half a bottle of liquid soap and then half a roll of paper towelling drying her hands as she told me how important it was to keep germ free. Both of her parents were microbiologists. Mulder was busy giving Astrid some pointers when I returned and as I sat down I was vaguely aware of a ringing sound, barely audible in the din of music, cheering and pins being smashed over. Then, a lull, and I heard it definately. Fumbling in my pocket, I checked my celphone, but it was silent. Then I discovered Mulder’s in the pocket of his discarded jacket. “Hello?” Finger plugged in my ear, I could still barely make out the voice at the other end. “Is that Mrs Mulder?” Twice in five minutes, I thought with a wince. “Sorry, uh... Ms Scully?” “Yes, it is,” I was almost shouting into the phone and realised I wouldn’t be able to hear the conversation unless I got out of the noise. I stood, moving toward the exit. “This is Dr Ross Quinten at Georgetown East. Your daughter, Astrid Moss, was brought in ten minutes ago -” “I’m sorry?” At the exit, I stopped dead. “Your daughter, Astrid. She was wandering the streets and almost got hit by a car. Don’t be alarmed, she’s not physically injured. However -” “My daughter, Astrid,” I echoed. “Yes,” Dr Quinten confirmed. “You’re sure?” “Of course -” “Are you sure?!” “We ran her through our system, came up with a match immediately.” System? What was he talking about, system? Then it clicked. A year, maybe two years ago now, Mulder and I had had to fill out forms for the kids as part of the Schools’ Fingerprint Identification Program - the human equivalent to microchipping dogs, I guessed. SFIP meant that any child aged three to seventeen could be identified if somehow injured or otherwise unable to tell their name, parents phone number or essential medical details. We both thought the other was crazy. “Could you hold on, just a second?” Heading back, I searched for Astrid amongst the crowd of bowlers. Hell, none of the faces were familiar - which was, of course, because I was looking at the wrong pair of lanes. Moving along, I picked out Mulder. He was being, I guessed, politely requested by a staff member to wear the correct footwear if he wanted to stand on the lanes. And there, standing right beside him, was Astrid. “Brown hair? Blue-grey eyes?” I asked slowly. “About four-foot-two?” “Ms Scully, is there some sort of problem -” “No, no!” I was quick to reassure him. Finally catching Mulder’s attention, I beckoned him closer. “We’ll be there as soon as possible. Thank you.” Mulder reached me as I hung up and I wordlessly tossed him the phone. “What’s going on?” “Ring Skinner. Tell him to meet us at Georgetown East as soon as humanly possible. Tell him it’s an emergency. I’ve got to ring Jacqui.” Alarm crossed his face. “Is it Erin? Josh?” I shook my head, giving him a twisted sort of smile. My mind was still flying, trying to digest the sudden news, work out my plan. “No, Astrid.” Mulder looked nonplussed. “But she’s right there.” “I know she is,” I agreed, pulling out my own celphone and dialing home. “I’ll fill you in on the way, okay?” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - If I’d ever doubted Scully’s efficiency in the past, I never would again. She spoke with Astrid, telling her we had to go, that Jacqueline was bringing Josh and Erin up and would take them all to lunch at McDonalds next door when they finished bowling. In the car she related the phone conversation, cryptically telling me her plan. I sat, staring out the window, trying to comprehend another Astrid. This shouldn’t have come as such a surprise, I guess, given the kids’ pasts, the world they’d been created in. It had been a baby farm, for Christ’s sake. Engineer a seed - not just one, but a whole damn packet. Plant them in the ground, watch them grow, see if they takes hold and prosper or wither and die. But I’d never simply looked at it as cloning. That Astrid was just a clone, a carbon copy... It was inconceievable. She was too original, too full of life, too... Astrid. “Don’t try to get your mind around it yet,” she interrupted my thoughts. “Just work with me here, okay?” “You’re sure they think it’s her?” “Fingerprints matched, as did physical appearance.” She slammed her palm down on the steering wheel, shaking her head in disbelief. “I never even thought this would happen, Mulder. Even when I listened to Jacqui telling me about their different batches as if she were talking about cookies in the oven.” I reached across, closing my hand over hers. “I’m working with you here, Scully, but you’ve gotta work with me too.” She nodded. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” She drew a deep breath. “Where do I start?” “You can start by telling me why we need Skinner.” “He’s FBI.” “So are we.” “We’re also the parents. Mulder, we can’t just walk in there and take her away without some explanation why an eight year old was out wandering the streets. But if we turn up with an FBI agent, we can -” “-Say she was kidnapped and missing,” I finished for her. “I’m impressed, Scully. That gets us off the hook and we take the kid home, and then...?” “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves,” she said shortly. She was right, I guessed. No need to complicate the situation in that way. We’d have more than enough to deal with, putting on a convincing act as parents to a kid we’d never seen before. Well, figuratively. “What if the kid doesn’t play along?” I asked suddenly. She glanced across at me and I realised the thought hadn’t yet occurred to her. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I guess...” She sighed, half-shrugged. “I don’t know.” Skinner beat us there. Although it was Saturday, he was dressed like it was any other day of the week, right down to FBI badge clipped onto his suit. I’d forgotten that some of us still spent weekends locked away in offices. He demanded to know what was happening and Scully filled him in as briefly as possible. He stared at her, skeptical, annoyed. “What do you mean, a twin? You told me that this ‘genesis project’ only created three successful res-” “That’s what we thought,” Scully said shortly. Although there was no real emergency, I could well understand her impatience. “Are we ready to go in?” “Three for one and one for all,” I murmured. Skinner shot me an irate look. We entered the emergency entrance and I found myself having to run to catch up with Scully as she headed toward the nurses station. “Astrid Moss was brought here?” she demanded breathlessly. “I got a call from a Dr Quentin that my daughter -” I was surprised by how convincing her performance was. In all truth, acting has never been Scully’s forte. Lying to me, in particular, was something she was appallingly bad at. But I guess such a scene, running into emergency, demanding to know where a loved one is, was hardly new to her. She had a lot of experience to draw from. Stanislavski would have approved. “Sutures two,” a small, hispanic nurse said in clipped tones, pointing. I uttered a thanks, taking off after Scully. Skinner must have thought we were mad, but followed behind nonetheless. Scully pushed open the door neatly labelled ‘Sutures 2’ and a young male doctor pulled away from the patient on the bed to face us. I got a glimpse of a small, frightened face before his figure blocked my view. “Dr Quentin?” Scully demanded. “You’re Ms Scully? And -” He looked from Skinner to I and back again. “Fox Mulder.” I didn’t waste time proffering my hand, but instead pushed past him. Staring at the figure sitting crouched on the bed. Little Astrid, was my first thought. She was tiny, a tiny, shivering ball, like a wet kitten. She looked at us through Astrid’s eyes, but it wasn’t Astrid who looked out. It was a frightened little creature, wary, completely unfamiliar. “Hey, sweetie,” Scully said gently. Behind us, I could hear Skinner explaining the tragic circumstances of the abduction, the FBIs involvement, our fears that we would never see our daughter again. I stared at the emaciated child and silently wondered. “Sweetie, it’s going to be fine. We’re here now, all right? You’re going to be okay. You’re safe.” Not a kitten. More of a puppy, an abused puppy staring at all mankind with mournful, unflinching distrust. “She’s undernourished and we’ve got her on an IV to rehydrate her,” announced the doctor. “Wherever she’s been for the last two weeks, they were feeding her, but only just.” “She’s not -” Abused? “-injured?” The doctor, catching my full meaning, shook his head. “A rather nasty scrape on her left leg, but we’ve cleaned and bandaged it. It didn’t need sutures. That’s it. Of course, you’ll need to keep the wound clean to avoid infection and -” “That’s fine,” Scully said shortly. “I’m a doctor.” Dr Quentin cleared his throat. “She hasn’t spoken since she was brought in. We thought perhaps autism at first but after consulting a children’s doctor from psych... She said that such behaviour was typical after a great physical or emotional trauma. An abduction situation would most definately fulfil the crite -” “We’re going to take care of you, sweetie,” Scully promised gently, ignoring him. I was curious as to her behaviour - she wasn’t entirely acting, I could see. What was our connection to this child? What could it be? What were we getting outselves into? Dr Quentin turned to me. “If you’ll come with me we can see about discharge papers.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - She dressed herself in the clothes they’d brought her in in, a pair of old, grubby overalls and a Winnie The Pooh long-sleeved t-shirt, a thick new-ish red coat on top and worn sneakers. I tried to help her at first but she shrank from my touch and I only kneeled, staring. She had looked far smaller and younger than Astrid at first and I’d been sure we were mistaken, but the resemblance now was unmistakeable. Astrid was skinny but this child grossly underfed, her eyes wider, sunken, the cheekbones more prominent in such a gaunt face. I felt tugs of affection and revulsion simultaneously, the urge to pull her into a hug and let her cry tears I felt sure were banking up within that tiny frame, the urge to turn away from such a disturbing sight. “I know this must be very, very scary for you, sweetie,” I said softly. “But we’re going to try and make sense of this together, okay? I promise you, we’re going to make everything okay.” The wariness in her eyes didn’t waver and I felt a surge of pity and anger at whatever cruelty had led to this silent distrust. Mulder and the doctor re-entered and she climbed back on the bed, pressing herself against the wall as if trying to hide. “Ready to go, kiddo?” Mulder asked carefully. Her eyes darted to him and the doctor, then back to me. No response in any form. Her eyes betrayed nothing but fear and misgiving. I couldn’t help but think of Josh in the past, Josh hiding a barrelful of secrets from us, staring at us with grave eyes and not trusting us to listen. “We’re going home now.” I held out a hand but she didn’t budge. “Now.” I pleaded with her silently. We didn’t need suspicion of any sort on us. “Kids are a stubborn lot,” Mulder shrugged, moving forward and picking up the lightweight child as did Erin. She struggled in his arms but he didn’t loosen his grip and she slackened, lifeless in his arms. I walked beside him as he carried her out to the car, Skinner behind us. Mulder lowered her to the ground in the parking garage and she stood, staring at the asphalt with dull, dead eyes, arms hanging limply by her sides. “So, what now?” Skinner stared piecingly at Mulder and I. “We’re going to need to talk to Jacqueline,” I thought aloud, staring at the tiny, still figure. “We’ll need to find out her name, where she came from, if there’s any more...” How callous that sounded. ‘If there’s any more’, as if referring to stock in a supermarket. How many could there be? How many little Astrid lookalikes were there running around the country? It was a chilling thought. And Josh, too. How many little Josh’s? “So, you’ll have your hands full,” Skinner finished for me. He sounded grim. “What do I do about the case?” “Local PD are working on it, aren’t they?” I queried. From what little time we’d spent in the community I had a sense that a lot of time and effort was being put into the investigation. And no doubt, with so many outstanding citizens disappearing without a trace, one by one. “They’re not getting anywhere. I hoped you could at least come up with a plausible explanation -” “We’ll get back to it as soon as we can, sir.” I didn’t want to push any limits and had no desire for the stress building within the Assistant Director to manifest itself as a heartattack. “We’ll be back at work on Monday.” He stared at me, then nodded. “I know you’ve got priorities, agents, but right now I’ve got priorities, too. We need a breakthrough on this case.” “What if they’re already dead?” I asked, recalling the earlier conversation between Mulder and I. Skinner winced. “Let’s just see what we can learn, okay?” His eyes settled on the little girl who stood between Mulder and I. “Take her home and get a good meal into her. She needs it.” With that, he left. Mulder opened the car door and she obediently climbed in, pulling on the seatbelt. I debated over whether or not to sit in the back with her - whether to try and comfort her, or alloww her space. Mulder seemed to decide for me, planting himself in the passenger seat, leaving the driver’s for me. I kept glancing back at her every ten seconds on the drive home, but she just sat, listless, unmoving, staring blankly out the window. I glanced at the car clock as we reached home - only twelve sixteen. How could such an impossibly huge thing have happened in such a short time? I opened the car door and she climbed out, edging past me warily. I offered her my hand again but she refused it, just trailing after Mulder and I as we entered the building, standing against the wall in other side of the elevator, eyes on the changing numbers as we rode up. Jacqueline had left in a hurry and the kitchen table was still covered with pages of notes she or Joshua had scrawled, a couple of books on genetics, a sleeping laptop. She’d taken Erin’s diaper bag at least, I confirmed, doing a quick stocktake of the place. The still half-filled wine glasses on the bench. At least we’d remembered to put the bottle back in the fridge. A stack of pizza boxes, two or three pieces or half-eaten pieces left in each. All the girls’ sleeping bags, pillows and miscellaneous stuffed animals still lay spread over the floor, squashed pieces of popcorn and chocolate smudges in the carpet, a half-overturned bowl of unpopped kernels, half a dozen plastic tumblers and empty bottles of softdrink and fruitjuice. How were we going to handle their return? “Scully?” Mulder gestured helplessly to the little girl who stood staring around, uninterested. I knelt beside her. “How about we take that coat off, sweetie?” I reached to help her but she shrank away, looking at me reproachfully. I stood again, pulling off my own jacket. “Okay,” I agreed. “You can take it off when you’re ready. Maybe if you get a little hot in here.” I paused, wondering how far to push, whether we should be persevering right now or whether a rest would be more beneficial. But I couldn’t just ignore her. I wanted to help her, try to and understand what was going on in her mind. “That’s a lovely coat. Is red your favourite colour?” No response. She just stared at me. I sighed. “Are you hungry, sweetie?” We needed to get some food into her, I knew, but already I was realising the chance of getting her to eat was pretty minimal. “Or maybe you’d like to have a little sleep?” Still no response. I was starting to get a little frustrated, but persisted. “How about if I make you a sandwich? You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to. We’ll just see, huh?” I moved over to the kitchen counter, moving the wine glasses and various remnants of the girls’ pigout aside and began to put together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, slicing it so that one side was peanut butter, the other jelly, hoping that she’d at least eat half. I then took an apple, rinsed it, and cut it in half, one half again into quarters, placing that on the plate beside the sandwich. A handful of raisins and some cheese cubes completed the meal - it was more than she could eat, I knew, and chances were she would have none of it, but I wanted to tempt her. Pouring out half a glass of orange juice, I put them down on the kitchen table in the space Mulder had cleared. “Why don’t you come see if there’s anything here you’d like to eat?” I asked gently. She still stood, rooted to the spot. Then, slowly, she obeyed, climbing up onto the chair, drawing her feet under her. She stared at the plate, at the juice, and back at the plate. She didn’t touch a thing. After a few minutes she slid off the chair and wandered around the apartment, running her fingertips over objects as she passed them, like a mother-in-law checking for dust. Mulder and I stayed where we were, watching, until she disappeared into the kids’ room. What would Josh and Astrid think, I wondered suddenly. How would Astrid deal with this? We stood in the doorway as she stared around the kids’ room, the walls covered with Astrid’s posters, the shelves adorned with Josh’s constructed model ships and planes, the ceiling covered with glowing stick-on stars. The curtains were still closed and I went to draw them open, allowing light into the room. She pulled aside Josh’s blankets to peer into his cavern of a bed, then dropped them again. Moving out past us, she returned to the living room, nestling down in one of the armchairs, curling up into a tiny ball. Mulder moved restlessly away and I caught his arm. “I know this is tough,” I murmured, pressing my forehead against his. “I don’t know what we’re going to do, Mulder. But we’ve got to be patient, for the time being.” “Who could hurt a kid so much that-” He broke off. “That could have been Astrid, Scully.” “I know, I know.” I kissed his cheek, running my hands through his hair comfortingly. “Let’s just give her some time, okay?” He nodded and I kissed him again before pulling away. “You go ring Jacqueline, see how much longer she thinks she can keep the kids occupied. Their parents are going to be here at two to pick them up - that gives us about an hour til the kids get back to pack up.” Back out in the kitchen, I picked up the untouched plateful of food, hesitated for a moment, and then took it over to the coffee table beside the chair she huddled in. “If you change your mind,” I said softly. I switched on the TV, flipping channels until I found cartoons. Heading into Josh and Astrid’s room, I sorted through Astrid’s clothes, pulling out a pair of pajamas she claimed to have outgrown, along with a t-shirt, sweater and jeans. It looked like it had been quite a few days since the little girl had had a bath, and although I doubted our chances, I was hoping for the best. Mulder was in our bedroom, pacing with the cordless phone. “Yeah, listen - No, just bring them - Damn... No, you’re right... I’ll get - No, I’ll get a taxi up. I’ll meet you outside McDonalds about half past one.” He hung up, tossing the phone down on the bed in frustration. “You’re going up there?” I queried. “We took two cars up there,” he reminded me. “Mine’s still in the parking lot. Jacqueline can’t bring all the kids back herself, especially now she’s got Josh and Erin as well.” I did the quick math in my head. “You’ve got ten seats for eleven kids.” He shrugged. “They can squish. Astrid and Josh are skinny enough.” I nodded, glancing at the kitchen clock. Only just twelve-thirty. “Once Astrid’s friends have gone we’ll need to have a talk with Jacqueline.” I felt annoyed at her, as if this was something she should have known and warned us about. After all, she ran the damn project these days. She’d been there when Astrid was born. How could she not know about this child? Unless - What if she had known? “Do you think she knew this child existed?” Mulder voiced my doubts. How much did we really know Jacqueline, I wondered. We trusted her with Erin’s life because we trusted her with Josh and Astrid, because we knew she’d never harm her siblings. But what were her ambitions with the project? What else did she know that we didn’t? For the first time I felt a wavering suspicion - how was it that she’d suddenly gained so much independance and power in the project? She’d explained it to us, yes, but looking back, her explanation didn’t sound so plausible. How genuine was she? “I don’t know,” I said slowly. I turned, picking up the phone to return it to its cradle. “We should check on her.” By her I meant the little girl, not Jacqueline. Her, she, this child - when would we learn her name? I wondered. Without a name she was without identity, without past. Mulder caught my arm. “Let’s give her some time,” he said gently. “She’s scared as hell.” “You’re right,” I agreed uneasily. “Maybe she’ll fall asleep. She looks like she hasn’t slept in days.” “It’s hard to believe she’s the same age as Astrid,” he murmured. “She’s so tiny. So different... More like Josh. Quiet, closed off.” “We don’t know what she’s really like.” I shrugged. “Maybe she was like Astrid, once.” “I hate how people destroy their children’s lives,” Mulder said with sudden, grating feeling. He moved over to the crib, bracing his hands on the solid frame. I put my arms around him from behind, pressing my cheek against his broad back. “We’re doing our part, Mulder. We’re taking care of our own kids. That’s all we can do.” He moved away, restless. “We should be able to do more. People should realise... should know better...” He exhaled shakily. “There’s so many monsters out there. Monsters in human form. You know?” ‘Yeah, I know,” I said softly. “Whatever’s happened to this litte girl, Mulder, we’re wasting time trying to blame. We’ll try to trace her past, get her to talk, find out how she ended up like this, sure, but what’s most important is that we don’t make the situation any worse. We’re going to have to tread very, very carefully.” Still pacing restlessly, arms behind his head, he nodded. “I know we do, I know.” He paced some more, then turned suddenly. “Do you think she can’t speak or won’t speak?” “It’s too early to say, Mulder.” “You’re right, you’re right,” he agreed. He was so agitated. This had unsettled both of us. It was something that would have an enormous toll not only on Mulder and I but the whole family. What were we going to do? I opened my arms to him letting him rest his chin on my hair, his grip on me so desperate it was almost suffocating. I pulled away a little, enough to give myself room to breathe, and let out a sigh. “Let’s just stick together, okay Mulder?” I murmured. “You look after me and I’ll look after you, and we’ll deal with this together.” He nodded silently. Staring up at his face, I found myself wondering at his vulnerability, his neediness. Somehow, despite it, he was still a powerful man. A father figure, somebody commanding respect, admiration. He called for a taxi and it turned up just after one. I followed him out of the bedroom to discover the armchair empty, the plate of food still on the coffee table, untouched. “Where’s she gone?” He ran to the door, checking the lock. Still bolted - she was still somewhere in the apartment. “Sweetie?” I called out. Mulder began to hunt in the living room among the piles of overnight bags and unrolled sleeping bags and pillows, as if she had buried herself, hidden herself. So tiny, she could have hidden anywhere. “You go get the girls,” I gave him a gentle push toward the door. “I’ll find her.” “You sure?” Moving closer, I realised that the raisins were missing from the plate, a tiny bite taken of peanut butter sandwich. “It’s all right,” I gestured for him to shoo, my eyes still on the plate. Had she taken a piece of apple as well? “We’ll be fine here.” “See you soon.” The door closed after him. I made my way cautiously through the apartment, checking under every table, in every closet, in our bedroom even though we’d been in there the whole time. Josh and Astrid’s room was the last place I looked and I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it first. I lifted the blanket from around Josh’s bed, light filtering into the dark cavern. Usually if Josh was in there he had a nightlight on, if he was reading he used the bedlamp awkwardly attached one of the four bedposts. Now there was neither, but in the faint light from the room I could see her well enough. She was lying curled up, thumb in mouth. Wide awake, she stared at me, her eyes following me as I kneeled beside the bed, still holding up the blanket. “Hi, sweetie. Were you having a little nap?” Still silence. Why was I still trying, I wondered. It was obvious she didn’t want to talk. I gave her as reassuring a smile as I could manage and let the blanket fall, getting to my feet. Her red coat was lying on the floor - I almost tripped on it. Picking it up, I looked at the tag label, noting that she was the same size as Astrid, or had once been. Flipping the tag over, I saw that somebody had written something with a permanent marker, the neat printing of a mother wanting to ensure their child’s belongings not get lost. “Ebony Arden,” it said plainly. “Ebony? Is that your name, sweetie?” I felt excitement at finally having something to call her, a name that made her somehow more human, more real. “That’s a very pretty name.” I lifted the blanket to peek in, to see if there was any reaction. “That’s your name? Ebony?” The tiniest of nods. I don’t know for certain if I even saw it, or whether it was just a figment of my all too wishful imagination. I smiled, feeling encouraged. “You try and get some sleep, sweetie? I’ll be outside if you need anything.” I started a cleanup of the living room and kitchen as I waited for the girls’ return. Wrapping up the leftover pizza and putting it in the fridge, collecting empty packets and bowls and icecream dishes and stacking the dishwasher before attacking the fryingpan with a scourer. I was just about to go check on Ebony when I the door burst open and half a dozen carefree, noisy girls came tumbling in, Astrid among them. “Mommy, why’d you have to leave?” She was pouting, though I could see flickers of concern in her eyes. Maybe not so carefree. I hugged around her waist briefly, feeling guilty about having left. “It’s a long story. Just wait until your friends have been picked up, okay?” She looked distinctly curious, but nodded. “Sure.” She turned to go, then stopped, turning back to face me. “I won two out of three games.” She was almost bursting with pride - it was the only the second time she’d ever gone bumperbowling. “That’s great, sweetie.” I felt an odd shiver as I uttered the endearment, wanting to tell Astrid right then, but knowing it wasn’t feasible. Mulder gave me a brief nod as he followed them in. He had one arm looped casually around Erin and she kicked her feet, grinning at me. It looked as if she was trying to fly. “Hey, my beautifuls.” I took my baby girl in my arms, kissing her, and slid one arm around Mulder’s waist, bestowing on him the same greeting. He bent his head close to mine. “Any progress?” he murmured. “A name,” I answered, craning to look up at him. “Ebony Arden.” “Ebony - Arden.” He savoured the words curiously. “She told you?” I shook my head. “It was on her coat.” He nodded, looking a little disappointed. I understood. Already it was obvious we were in for a long haul. Jacqueline had apparently gotten an emergency call from work and only dropped the kids off, which meant we had to wait before questioning her about Ebony. I wondered how much she knew, whether this was somehow an excuse to buy herself time to come up with an explanation. I chided myself from being so suspicious but still couldn’t help the lingering doubts. We were busy over the next half hour, telling Astrid’s friends over and over that they’d better start packing up before their parents arrive. They’d decided to rewatch the last twenty minutes of Romeo and Juliet and it was maddening trying to push them into action, they were so absorbed in the movie. Only when the first parents arrived did a few of them start the awkward task of rolling their sleeping bags into impossibly small bundles. I helped. Knowing I just wasn’t equipped to deal with it at the moment, I left Mulder to make small talk with the parents, vowing to apologise to him later. Neither of us ever felt truly at ease with other parents; our lives were so very different from theirs. Finally, the last child had left. Ten minutes later, Astrid was asleep. Mulder carried her into our room, not wanting her to wake up and come face-to-face with her twin. We needed to think out how we were going to manage that introduction. I did a quick vaccum of the living room carpet, pushing all the furniture back in its rightful places. Josh sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, watching me. I realised I hadn’t had a chance to speak to him since he’d gottten home, trailing behind the others. He’d disappeared in the chaos of all the girls being picked up. “Hey, honey. How was lunch?” He shrugged, staring at me, then turned and tickled under Erin’s chin as she sat, her bouncer on the counter beside him. “I told her about my dinosaurs,” he said quietly, matter-of-factly. “Who? Erin?” He shook his head. “No. The other girl.” She was still hiding in Josh’s cave, I realised. He must have discovered her under there. What shocked me was how calm he seemed about the whole thing. “You talked to her?” He nodded, shifting Erin awkwardly onto his lap. She sneezed, bouncing excitedly. His grip around her was firm, secure, careful. “Is she why you had to leave?” “Yeah, she is,” I said softly, still marvelling at his reaction. “Her name’s Ebony.” “I know.” He nodded. “She told you?” “She didn’t talk.” He paused, letting Erin chew on his fingers. “I said she could sleep in my bed tonight, if she wanted.” “That was very generous of you, Josh.” He shrugged. “She’s unhappy.” “Yeah, I know she is.” How strange it was, I thought, to be having such an adult conversation with an almost-six year old. Josh, I felt, had a wisdom that even Astrid lacked, a sensitivity, an almost frightening intuition. It would be fascinating to see how he grew up. Astrid woke up two hours later, wandering out, rubbing her eyes. Josh was playing with Erin on the rug in front of the TV and Mulder and I sat at the kitchen table. We’d been trying to revise case notes as a way of distracting ourselves, but ended up wrestling with how we’d tell Astrid. How do you tell a child something like that? I held out secret hope that she’d somehow discovered, as Josh had, taken it with the same matter-of-fact acceptance that he had. But something told me it wasn’t going to be such smooth sailing. She moved into the kitchen, grabbing an apple, peeling off the sticker and rinsing it. Biting into it, she pulled a face. “Mommy, the apple’s all floury.” I beckoned her closer. “Come sit down, honey.” She stared at me for a moment, then at Mulder, then unwillingly slid into a chair opposite us, taking another bite. “Am I in trouble?” she asked quietly. Her eyes searched my face quickly, keenly. “You’re not in trouble,” I reassured unhappily. “But we have some news that you might find a little ...upsetting.” She frowned, as if trying to decipher something. “It’s not Duckie, is it?” she asked slowly. Then she shook her head. “But it’s got something to do with her?” “We got called away from bowling today by a doctor,” I said quietly. “They found a little girl who had the same fingerprint as you, who looked similar. They thought she was you, that’s why they called us.” Astrid froze. A flash of panic, confusion in her eyes, then something else - anger? She looked around, frowning, with intense concentration, like a dog sniffing the air. “She’s here, isn’t she?” She stared at me accusingly. “Yes.” She half climbed, half stumbled off her chair. “Astrid, sweetie,” I caught at her arm but she wrenched away. “Let me go!” “Astrid,” I pleaded, but she had begun to cry. “It was only me and Josh and Duckie, that was what Duckie said... She said it was only us and we were special cos it was only us -” She was barely coherent. “Astrid...” I reached out but Mulder beat me, pulling her against him. She struggled a little but then clung to him, sobbing. “Her name is Ebony. We’re going to have a talk with Jacqueline when she gets back, but til we figure out what to do we’ve got to try and look after Ebony, okay? She’s very scared.” “I don’t want her here!” Astrid shouted defiantly, turning in Mulder’s grip to face me, still in tears. “I don’t want her in my home!” “She may look like you, honey, but she’s not the same inside. She’s not you, and don’t you even think that we’re going to think any less of you with her around.” “You left before because of *her*!” Astrid shouted. “You’re already loving me less!” “Nothing could make us love you less,” I promised, feeling a little desperate. “Please, keep your voice down, sweetie.” “I don’t want to!!” she retorted. She pulled away from Mulder and bolted off, tossing her one-bite-eaten apple on the floor, where it skidded, splintering into pieces when it hit the front of a kitchen cupboard. “Astrid!!” Mulder shouted. He sounded angry. We both jumped as the bathroom door slammed shut. “Astrid!!” he shouted again. I put a hand on his arm. “Let her go,” I said quietly. I felt deflated by the confrontation. He pulled away from me, slamming his fist against the wall, kicking at the couch. Same old Mulder reaction - life goes wrong, kick the crap out of something. “Mulder -” I began. He gave the couch another kick, throwing me a threatening look. “Don’t even start with me, Scully.” I closed my mouth, not wanting to take his anger toward me as meaning anything more than him being pissed off. Glancing over, I saw that Josh was now cuddling Erin, holding her protectively. He gazed at me over her head, a sort of sympathetic disappointment in his eyes. Mulder stalked off to our bedroom and I went to see Astrid, only to discover she’d locked the bathroom door. I pounded on it. “Astrid, let me in.” “No!!” She still sounded infuriated. “Let me in or I’ll go get the lockpick!” To be honest, I wasn’t sure where I’d last left it, but she knew it wasn’t just an idle threat. I heard the lock being turned and the door swung open reluctantly. She stared at me resentfully. “She’s just a scared little girl,” I said softly, adding, “She’s your sister.” “She’s not my sister!” “Why do you say that?” “Because she’s not!” she cried fiercely. “Erin’s my sister! Erin’s my sister because she’s your daughter. *She’s* not your daughter!!” “So Jacqueline isn’t your sister?” I asked curiously. “She’s -” The one stopped her. She stared at me, then turned away, agitated. “Will you at least just see her, sweetie? Meet her, for me and Daddy.” “Daddy and I,” she corrected, sniffing, her back still to me. I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. “Come on, give me a hug, Astrid,” I pleaded. She turned and stared at me for a full twenty seconds, face tear-streaked, eyes still full of resentment and misery. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she allowed me to pull her into my arms and onto my lap. “You’re still my baby too, you know,” I said gently, brushing the hair off her face. She began to cry again in my arms, quiet tears. I rocked her a little, trying to figure out her amazing, turbulent mind. I was surrounded by such intellect, such agonized brilliance all around me. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - Astrid and Josh had never disagreed so completely before. The fact that she hadn’t even yet met her silent double didn’t prevent Astrid from arguing against her, and that evening at dinner relations between the two of them were tense. Add to that the disharmony between Scully and I and you got yourself a pretty damn miserable household and absolutely no dinnertable conversation. I spoonfed Erin her dinner after we finished our own and Scully went in search of Ebony. She or I had been checking in on the kid every half hour or so, each time trying to persuade her out of hiding in Josh’s cavern. She sat curled up, her back against the wall. Scully said that the airplanes hanging from the ceiling were swinging madly when she last checked in, as if Ebony had been playing with them. But if she had, she’d betrayed nothing of it to either Scully or I. This time Scully shephered her out of the bedroom. The kid was blinking as her eyes adjusted to the lit kitchen and her tiny body quivered with fear as she gazed around. Josh smiled shyly, yet reassuringly at her. Astrid, standing in front of me, drew my arms around her protectively, burrowing against me. “Hey, Ebony.” I’d tried speaking to her before several times, but this was the first opportunity I’d had of seeing her face, seeing if there was any reaction. But there wasn’t - she was completely expressionless. “Ebony, this is Astrid... Astrid, Ebony.” They sized each other up, staring unemotionally. If it hadn’t been for the almost painfully tight grip she had on my hands, I would have said Astrid was completely calm. And that was it. They simply stared, and stared, and probably would have gone on staring all night. Scully reached to tug Ebony away but the girl flinched as Scully touched her shoulder, immediately breaking eye-contact with Astrid. “How about a bath, sweetie?” Astrid, shrugging my arms off, turned away. I caught the fleeting look of uncertainty and pain on her face and wished I could do something more. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - She didn’t want a bath. She started shrieking the moment I reached out to start the water running and I pulled away, not wanting to upset her, a little surprised - that was the first sound I’d heard from her. “Okay, sweetie, no bath if you don’t want. How about a shower instead?” Her eyes followed me warily as I reached, easing the water on, checking the water temperature. I grabbed a towel out of the linen closet and put it beside the pajamas I’d pulled out earlier. “You get yourself all clean, okay?” I knew it would have been hopeless to try and undress her myself, but if I just left her, maybe... “I’ll be out there if you need me, all right? Have a little shower and put on some clean jammies and maybe we’ll have a snack before bed. Some raisins, maybe?” I added, thinking back to lunch. I gave her a reassuring smile and withdrew, easing the door closed after myself. Astrid was waiting outside, her face stormy. She stared at me for a moment then moved past into her bedroom, slamming the door shut after herself. Reclaiming her territory, I guessed. I let the shower run for twenty minutes before opening the bathroom door a crack, steam escaping, the mirror fogged. I was surprised to see the skinny little girl standing on the floormat in underpants, struggling to pull the pajama top over her wet hair. I hadn’t been particularly hopeful and was heartened by the progress. I closed the door again, gave her five minutes, and then knocked, opening the door enough to slip in. She was fully dressed now, curled up on the floormat, the now damp towel I’d given her wrapped around her like a comforter. She looked asleep, but as I stepped past her carefully to turn off the taps I realised she wasn’t, her eyes following my movements furtively. I felt victorious over getting her to shower, but my elation was subdued at best. What on earth were we going to do with this child? Take it one day at a time? But we couldn’t afford the time. Skinner needed us on the case and we owed it to him to be there. We owed it to the kids not to get fired. More to the point, what was I going to do with her tonight? Where would she sleep? Although Josh had seemed more than willing to give up his bed, I knew that Astrid would be less than impressed at having to share her bedroom. And I didn’t want to make it any harder for Astrid than it already was. “Ebony, sweetie?” No response. It was only as I reached down to touch her that she sprang up, half-tangled in the enormous bath towel. “Whoa -” I pulled back as she regained her balannce, staring at me resentfully. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I won’t try to touch you if you listen to me, okay? I need to know that you’re listening.” She followed me out of the bathroom, the bathtowel around her like a shawl, the hem dragging. She watched as I pulled out some spare pillows and blankets, making up a bed for her on the couch. No sign of Mulder, Erin, Josh or Astrid - they were all in their respective bedrooms, I guessed, which depressed me. I didn’t want to feel isolated, not when this little girl was already pushing me away. I switched off all the lights bar one, dimming the lamp beside the couch. “This is where you’re going to sleep tonight, okay, sweetie?” She was silent but by this point I wasn’t really expecting otherwise. “I’m going to go check on Astrid and Josh and the baby.” Was that a flicker of emotion that crossed her face at the mention of Erin? “You come find me if you need anything.” After irrationally waiting for a response and not getting one, I left her in her silence and headed off to the kids’ room. Empty. I found them all in our bedroom, Mulder standing with his back to one wall, Astrid sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at him, and Josh in the rocking chair, giving Erin a bottle. God, I’d completely forgotten. How could I have done that? “Hey,” I said softly. Three sets of eyes were transferred to me and I felt irrational annoyance at the hurt in all six eyes. They were looking at me as if it was my fault. “What do you expect me to do?” I demanded, maybe a little defensively. “We can’t just ignore this child’s existence.” “You can’t ignore us either,” Astrid said shortly. “It’s been less than twelve hours!” I protested. “And it’s not that I’ve been ignoring you, it’s just that this little girl needs somebody to be there.” “We need somebody to be there, too.” I could hear the anguish Astrid was trying to disguise as sulkiness. “I know, Astrid, and I’m sorry. Really.” I felt genuine empathy. I knew what it was like to feel underappreciated, out of the spotlight. Being one of four kids had seen to that. “I know what -” Astrid scowled. “I’m going to bed.” She slid off the bed and left the room. “Astrid -” I called helplessly after her. “Let her go.” I remembered saying those words myself after the earlier argument. If such a thing was possible, Mulder spoke them with even less energy than I had. I turned to stare at him, seeing the anger and frustration etched in his face. “I’m only dealing with this alone because nobody’s helping me.” I felt helpless as I tried to explain. “I’m not trying to shut anybody out.” Say you understand, Mulder, I pleaded silently. Say you’re sorry you haven’t been helping out, that you’ll go talk to Astrid and explain to her, that everything will be okay. Instead, he bit his lip pensively, his eyes on the floor. Finally, he roused himself. “I’ll go call Jacqueline again, see what’s going on.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - Miss Moss wasn’t available, so a harried sounding nurse at the clinic informed me. I hung up, staring at the phone moodily. I glanced over at the kid, Ebony, who was curled up in a huddle on the couch, not moving. Asleep, presumably. To be honest, I couldn’t logically blame Scully. Hell, if she hadn’t been dealing with the situation so efficiently alone I would have been trying right alongside her. But there was something maddening... Frustration and resentment in the air, almost. Infectious. Even Erin before had been fussy, not wanting to take her bottle. I’d given up, passing her off to Josh. He seemed the only one unaffected by the atmosphere. I went into the kids’ room and tried to talk to Astrid but she was feigning sleep. Or, at least, I guessed she was. It was hard to tell - she was a damn convincing actress. Back in our bedroom it was a surprisingly peaceful scene. Josh was still in the rocker, Erin in his arms. Before she had been fretting, pushing the bottle away but then reaching out, pulling it back. Now, her tiny hands clasped tightly around it, she was obediently sucking away. Scully was sitting on the edge of the bed, not far from where Astrid had been before, watching with a weary, wistful smile. I moved closer cautiously, not wanting to stir up any more angry outbursts, gingerly laying my hands on Scully’s hunched shoulders. She glanced up at me. “Hey,” she said quietly. Sliding her hand over one of mine, she squeezed it. “I’m sorry if I’ve been kinda single-minded this afternoon.” “I understand that you want to help her.” “It’s just... Astrid’s making this so difficult, and it’s hard enough as it is...” “This is hard on Astrid too,” I reminded her. “I know,” she nodded. She seemed to struggle for a moment with that thought before admitting, defeated. “I know it is.” Erin finished the bottle and began to hiccup, bouncing up and down on Josh’s lap, not at all sleepy. Sending Josh to get ready for bed, Scully took Erin, switching off the lights as she rocked her gently, trying to shut out the distractions to get her to sleep. I caught the tail end of an argument between Josh and Astrid as I went to tuck Josh in, but by the time I entered the room Astrid was feigning sleep again. I let it go, saying goodnight to Josh and throwing Astrid a “Sleep tight” from doorway as I left, easing the door closed after me. Scully still hadn’t gotten Erin to sleep and I went and got myself ready for bed, taking over rocking the baby when I got back to give Scully a break, feeling I owed it to her. Finally, all attempts were surrendered and the wide awake and bouncing baby was put to bed in the crib, handed the silent light-up rattle to amuse herself. Scully and I climbed into bed and settled down, untouching. Three hours later, as I lay wide awake in my private world, the phone rang. I slid out of bed, choosing not to pick up the phone by Scully’s bedside but instead to get the cordless from the kitchen. As I picked up I realised that the TV in the living room was on, playing an old Road Runner cartoon. “Fox? Is that you?” It was Jacqueline’s voice. I took a few curious steps closer and, seeing Ebony staring at the screen in the darkness, immediately retreated again. “Um, yeah...” “Why are you whispering?” The only unoccupied room I could think of out of hearing range, I shut myself in the bathroom. “It’s... a long story. Everybody’s asleep. Why are you ringing now?” “I heard you called me a couple of times. I thought it was an emergency... I didn’t realise you’d all be in snug in your beds so early.” Not so snug, I thought guiltily. And yeah, she was right. A quarter to one was early when it came to emergency situations. “Long story,” I repeated. “Scully was hoping you’d come over tonight. We need to have a discussion.” “About the girl, right.” She sounded a little uncomfortable. “Her name’s Ebony. Ebony Arden. Ring any bells?” There was a long silence. “I don’t think so.” She sounded genuine. “Eight years old, brown hair, grey eyes, about four foot two. Still no bells?” “Listen, Fox, I didn’t know about this, if that’s what you’re getting at.” She sounded defensive, like Scully had earlier. I bit down anger at her. We’d been hoping she could have offered us a clue to this. “Can you get here tomorrow morning, around nine or ten, maybe?” “I’ve got a critical situation at the clinic, Fox... I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it.” “Well, try,” I said brutally. “We’ve got a pretty damn critical situation here.” I hung up, pacing around the small bathroom, silently fuming. I couldn’t really understand my own anger, which only added to my frustration. Finally, I sat down on the rim of the bathtub, head in my hands, feeling tired. I’d never entirely trusted Jacqueline and now my doubt in her was even greater. There was a gentle knock on the door and it was pushed open. “Mulder?” Scully stood there in pajamas and bare feet, wiggling her toes as she stood on the cold tiles. My own feet were bare too, I realised, but I couldn’t feel the cold. “Was that Jacqueline?” she asked gently. “Yeah.” I tapped the phone idly against my palm. “She’s got some emergency or something...” She nodded slowly. “I guess we just handle it ourselves for the time being, then.” “*Can* we handle it ourselves?” A myriad of emotions played across her face. “I don’t know,” she said honestly, shrugging. She came closer, perching on the edge of the tub, next to me. A brief game of footsies ensued and she chuckled tiredly. I grinned. Yeah, it was still my mission to make Scully laugh. I thought over my own selfish, irascible behaviour through the afternoon. “I’m sorry about today.” I slid a hand across to touch her knee lightly. “After the promises we made each other and the kids... I haven’t kept up my end of the bargain.” “No, no, Mulder.” She shook her head, her hand clasping over mine, squeezing it. “I don’t deserve your apology. I haven’t been living the way I promised I would, either.” God, why were we both so good at taking the blame? We made our own troubles twice as bad in trying so hard to solve them.I half-smiled at the thought. She sighed, standing. “Well, I don’t know about you, but this is a damn uncomfortable place to sit at one am.” She still gripped my hand, swinging it gently. “Let’s get back to bed, huh? Something tells me tomorrow’s going to be just as long.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - We went back to bed but didn’t sleep. Instead, lying side by side, staring up at the ceiling, there was a strange sense of camaraderie between us - a sort of casual, relaxed, completely non-sexual relationship. It was the sort of scene which should have belonged to our partnership before friends became lovers, but even then too often we’d been kept from such a comfort-level by the silently acknowledged sexual tension. There’d been too much meaning in something as simple as a hug or brush of the hand. Not that either of us had anything but revelled in the odd intimacy. Perhaps it was wrong to say there’d been too much meaning - the beautiful relationship we’d had had been in no way *too* much. Touches between us had been relished, treasured. But we’d been sampling only the cream of the crop, such intimate moments so rare that each was infused with devotion and compassionate love held just barely in check. So rarely had we just lain side by side and teased and bantered and had whimsical discussions about life, death, green eggs and ham. “Do you ever feel you know the path - that you can see it clearly, stretching ahead of you?” “Before you hit a pothole in the road, you mean?” he asked ironically. “Yeah, before that.” I laughed softly, stretching out a little longer. We were above the covers, stretched out, interlinked hands under heads, my toes occasionally stretching to graze against his shin. “I think I’ve come not to trust the road ahead...” he mused. “It always turns out to be a mirage.” “Always?” “Well, not always. But even if it’s a true road, there’s always somebody hiding behind the bushes ready to jump out at you. Or, a thunderstorm whips up, creating a massive flood, and the road gets swept away, leaving you standing there with no direction, nowhere to go but back.” “I take it this is speaking from personal experience?” He laughed. “I’ve got a whole compilation of personal experience. Would you like the abridged version?” “Unabridged.” I grinned. “Always.” Yawning, I let myself sink even further down into the covers. “We should really be getting to sleep. It’s late.” “Sleep,” Mulder mocked. “Who needs sleep?” “Your wife and your children, for starters,” I murmured, nudging him with my elbow. “C’mon, G-man, let’s get under the covers.” “Always the practical one,” he muttered, obligingly climbing up so I could lift the covers and slide underneath. He joined me, snuggling against me, laying a line of little pouty kisses along my cheek. “You’re such a romantic idealist at heart, Mulder,” I teased, heartened by his gentle kindness. He chuckled, gently tilting my chin toward him. “Just don’t tell anybody at the bureau, okay? I don’t want my reputation as the resident dispassionate crackpot tarnished.” I laughed, kissing him lightly on the lips, enjoying the snug comfortability. “Yeah, you’re just Mr Dispassionate.” He grinned, kissing me on the forehead. We settled down a little, heads side by side, still staring up. Although it was late, my thoughts weren’t of sleep, but rather of the things, so many things, we’d never discussed, never shared. It wasn’t like past relationships where I’d talked for hours, sharing memories and hopes and thoughts so important in their triviality - breaking up those relationships had taught me to curb my tongue, not to give so much knowledge to somebody who might walk away from me tomorrow. “Will you promise me something, Scully?” “What?” “Will you promise me you’ll let me know if you can’t see the road ahead?” “All right,” I agreed softly. “I promise.” He nodded, but was still frowning a little. “Anything else?” I asked curiously. “Promise me you’ll never lie to me or hold back even if it’s just because you don’t want to hurt me.” “Okay,” I agreed. I knew instinctively that this was heading somewhere and waited. “Scully?” He chewed contemplatingly on his lower lip. “Did you ever think about me.... about kissing me, before?” I wasn't shocked by the question, nor was I even discomforted, which in itself was the only surprise. I realised with sudden, strange relief that any barriers that had been still standing between Mulder and I two days ago were now gone. My heart was unguarded, open to him to search, discover, share. I should have been terrified, my head shouted at me, but I wasn't. “Sometimes.” “Only sometimes?” He pouted playfully. “Well, a lot of the time.” I smiled. “What stopped you from doing it, all those years?” “It wasn’t time.” I considered. “I didn’t think it was worth the risk of losing you.” “You thought you might lose me if we got romantically involved?” “For a while. Then we grew so... so integral to each other’s lives that I ... I don’t know. It just wasn’t necessary. I was satisfied with what we had. Well, mostly.” “Mostly,” he repeated. “I got a little hungry for more, sometimes,” I admitted. “Sometimes I really needed a physical touch.” I didn’t feel at all nervous about admitting it, only a little strange. It seemed so long ago, and yet I could still remember the solitary life I’d lived, the differences in our relationship so tiny but so crucial. He stared at the ceiling, forehead puckered in thought. “What do you think would have happened if Jacqueline hadn’t intervened?” “Would we or wouldn’t we?” “Yeah.” “I guess we were kinda heading toward it, huh? But, then, we’d been heading toward it for a long time.” “It was tough, the way it happened,” he hedged, doubtful. “Maybe...” “It was a big step, Mulder. Just to admit it to ourselves... I don’t know if would have been so brave, without her.... reassurance.” “Reassurance?” I could hear the cynicism in his voice. “We’ve gotta face it, Mulder,” I protested. “She was telling us what we wanted to hear. Without her, I don’t know how much longer it would have taken us to work up the courage to -” “To say those three little words,” he finished ironically. “You might remember, Scully, that I’d told you that before. You just didn’t believe me.” “I didn’t let myself believe you,” I corrected him. “I didn’t want to get my hopes up, or misread it...” “Three words, Scully,” he mocked playfully. “How can you possibly have misinterpreted that?” “Believe me, Mulder, it was a chance I wasn’t going to take.” “Gotta keep your heart protected, huh?” “Yeah,” I agreed, a little wistful. I smiled across at him. “You wanna guard the gate for me?” “I’d be honored,” he said with all sobriety. He smiled gently. “Goodnight, Mulder,” I said softly, returning the smile. I felt I was discovering more and more as time passed what marriage was like, that our relationship was still growing and evolving. He snuggled down beside me and I let my eyes close, but only a few seconds later I opened them again, distracted by the fingertip grazing down my neck and along my shoulders. “I’ll never get to sleep if you keep that up, you know,” I murmured. “Sorry.” I felt his soft lips on my neck and then he drew away, settling down. I didn’t know for a moment whether I’d offended him or not. “Mulder?” I murmured uncertainly. “Shhhh... S’okay,” he reassured. “Get some sleep, beautiful.” I let my eyes close again, comforted, comfortable, enjoying only the moment, not worrying what the morrow would bring. We would deal with those problems when they arose. Right then, the only thoughts that filled my head were of Mulder’s warm body beside mine. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - JACQUELINE POV - “Dana? Fox? Somebody?” Still no response, I gave up knocking and instead fished around in my bag for my keys. Dana had gotten a key cut for me - which had proved increasingly useful over the past few days. I was about to insert the key in the lock when the door opened. Astrid stared sullenly at me for a long moment, then turned away, leaving the door open for me to enter, disappearing down the hallway. “Dana? Fox?” The apartment, usually frenetic at this time of the morning, was lacking in life. It was Sunday, sure, but even Sundays were rarely so quiet. Josh appeared, carrying Erin. “Hey, Joshie.” “Mommy and Daddy want to talk to you,” he said quietly as he lifted her tiny frame into the highchair. He sounded apprehensive and my stomach turned. I nodded. “Yeah, I know they do.” I watched as he opened one of the kitchen cupboards and selected a jar of babyfood. “How are you holding up?” He stared at me levelly, and I wondered if that was empathy in his eyes. “We’re doing okay,” he said finally. He tipped some of the mush out onto a small dish and grabbed a baby spoon. Perching on the edge of the kitchen table, he began to feed Erin. She gurgled and bounced, but ate everything he patiently spooned into her mouth. “You’re wondering about her, aren’t you?” I’d thought he’d forgotten my presence or was even ignoring me, but suddenly he swung around to look at me curiously, a little wistful. “Yeah, I am.” “Mommy and Daddy think that you knew about her.” He held my gaze steadily. “I promise you, Josh, I didn’t.” He half-nodded, half-shrugged. “I know.” He glanced over at the TV in the living room. It was playing cartoons. “You going to go talk to her?” For the first time I realised that there was a tiny figure curled up on the couch among the cushions. My heart was palpitating as I moved closer, staring at the emaciated ball. How was this possible? How the hell could something like this have happened? It was completely impossible. Impossible, but it had happened. “Hey... It’s Ebony, right? Ebony Arden?” She didn’t so much as move a muscle in response, but only kept staring straight ahead. “My name is Jacqueline, but Astrid and Josh call me Duckie. You can call me that too, if you want.” Was she asleep, I wondered? I couldn’t see her face. “We’re not going, and that’s final!” I drew back as Dana and Astrid came storming in. Dana was in pajamas and robe, Astrid fully dressed, her hair half-braided. “You said you weren’t going to let her interfere with my life,” Astrid retorted, scowling. “This is interfering!” “Not today, Astrid!” Dana snapped. Then she saw me. She sucked in a deep breath. “Jacqui...” I wasn’t sure what the expression on her face meant. Josh excluded, they were all in foul moods, that was easy enough to tell. What had brought this on? She turned back to Astrid, then brushed past and snatched up the phone. “I’ll get Grandma to pick you up and take you, all right?” “Fine.” Astrid scowled again anyway and left. Dana disappeared into her bedroom and I was left alone with Josh again. Well, Erin and Ebony too, I guess, though I was barely conscious of them. “Pretty wild here, huh?” It had never been easy, making conversation with Josh. Especially now, when I felt so completely estranged from them all. “Stressed,” Josh said off-handedly. “Yeah, I could see.” I paused. I tried to sound optimistic. “Things are bound to -” I broke off as Dana returned, the phone clasped to one ear. “-Just a kinda complicated situation here, Mom...” She covered the receiever and hollered, “Mulder!” He appeared, running fingers through his wet hair, looking just as tense as Dana and Astrid. “What?” Then he saw me. “Oh.” There was a ridiculous amount of emphasis on that ‘oh’, I thought. “Gotta go, Mom. See you soon.” She jabbed at the end-call button and tossed the phone down, then lifted Erin from the highchair, putting her in Josh’s arms. “Could you go put her in the crib, please, Josh?” “I can’t stay long,” I offered, watching as Josh willingly escaped, pausing only to glance briefly back at us when he reached the doorway. “I really need to get back to the clinic.” “Right. Your emergency last night.” He smirked at me disbelievingly. “Actually, yes,” I said slowly, trying to figure out what I’d done to get that snide attitude. “We had... well, it’s a long story.” To be honest, I was just trying to put it out of my mind for an hour or two. I couldn’t focus on both that and this at once. I’d go mad. I drew a deep breath. “But I’m here now, right? I want to help you guys figure out what’s going -” “Coffee?” Dana interrupted brusquely. I nodded, watching as she poured, took the mug she handed to me. She gestured to the kitchen table and the pair of us sat on opposite sides. Fox, hands wrapped tightly around a mug, lounged against the wall, his eyes on us. I waited for one of them to say something, but they were both silent. I realised they were waiting for something. “I didn’t know about this.” “How could you not have known?” Dana asked. Her tone was quiet but I could hear the anger in her voice. Her eyes were narrowed, accusing. “You knew everything else, every detail.” My mind worked frantically. It was clear they weren’t going to believe me, unless I gave them absolute proof of my innocence in the matter. Maybe even then. “Listen, I wasn’t privy to every stage of the projects. They could have split that zygote a dozen times, two dozen. God knows how many times. They could have shipped them off to every geneticist in America for all I know!” Fox pulled away from the wall and slammed the mug down on the kitchen table, stalking off in disgust. I was annoyed that he was being so childishly angry and that I was being blamed for this. Dana frowned, half-rose as if planning to follow and stop him, but then stopped herself, sinking back down. Chewing on her lip, she stared at me. “How do we track them down?” she asked finally. “Who says you can?” Her frown deepened. “They burnt all the records in the fire - the only things they saved were the research files and blueprints, backed up on zip disks. Any notes, evaluations, reports, personal files... they were lost. I guess they figured they were better off without them anyway.” I noted that Fox wandered back in, standing in the doorway, hands braced against the doorjam. He avoided my gaze. “So, what are we going to do?” Dana asked, sounding a little curt. She glanced across at Fox only briefly before returning her gaze to me. I rubbed my forehead tiredly, feeling a headache coming on. “I don’t know,” I confessed. “That doesn’t help,” Fox said agressively. “Mulder-” Dana looked at him evenly, unhappily, and he jerked his gaze away morosely. She looked at me. “She’s locked up tight. I don’t think we’ll get anything out of her.” “What about her name - can’t you trace her, through some database? There must be -” “There’s no records of her,” Fox said shortly. “Just like Astrid and Josh were. Unrecorded, non-existent.” He shot me a bitter look and I wondered, again, what I had done to deserve this anger. He’d always resented me, I knew - even when he’d been more dependant on me, indebted, so grateful for Erin, agreeable on the surface, I knew he had trouble keeping frustration in check. “She has to belong to somebody,” Dana argued. “She must have had a guardian of some sort.” “How do we trace them?” “We can’t,” Fox snapped. “Have you asked Ebony?” “Repeatedly.” “She won’t even look at us,” Dana added, casting a glance across to the couch. Was the little girl listening to our conversation, I wondered? What did she think of us? What did she think of me? “Can I try and talk to her?” “Go ahead,” Fox gestured, adding sardonically, “Try your damndest.” I bit my lip to hold back a heated retort. Why the hell was he being so hard on me? “What have I done to you?” I demanded, unable to help myself. Fox just scowled. Dana sighed heavily, frowning. “Nothing. We’re just ... We thought you’d be able to help us out here.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - We stayed where we were, watching from a distance as Jacqui kneeled beside the little girl, talking to her softly. She persevered for about ten minutes before leaving Ebony alone again with Sesame Street, dropping back down in her seat at the kitchen table opposite me. “How’d it go?” I asked quietly, although I already knew her answer. She shook her head. “You’re right, she’s locked up tight.” It was one of the few times I’d seen Jacqui look truly defeated over something since that terrible parting at the compound four years ago. I wondered whether we were being too hard on her. After all, if she didn’t know anything... “Our top priority is getting her to eat and sleep,” I stated. “She’s barely done either since she’s been here, and who knows what went on before they took her into the hospital.” “She won’t eat anything you give her?” Jacqui still looked defeated, tired, as if she didn’t want to have to deal with it. I shook my head. “Only raisins, and she’s only had half a handful while she’s been here. Mulder and I have both tried.” She slowly shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe we just need to hold out until she’s ready.” “Let her starve herself?” Mulder shot at Jacqui. I felt guilty that he - and I - were treating her so harshly, buut I didn’t want to reprimand him, not then, anyway. I didn’t want to get on his bad side again. “No,” Jacqui answered carefully. It sounded, though, as if her anger were rising again. Mulder seemed to have the knack of provoking her. “If she’s at least eating something, chances are she’ll eat more when she’s ready. If you can keep her blood sugar levels up and make sure she drinks plenty of fluids-” “Cut out the doctor crap,” Mulder said sharply. “We can manage that ourselves.” Jacqui’s jaw set. “Fine,” she said coldly. Very deliberately, she turned her gaze away from Mulder to me, as if denying his presence in the room. “What are you going to do with her once you’ve gotten her to eat?” “We could hand her over to social services,” I suggested half-heartedly. “Let them try to track her family down.” “We can’t do that,” Jacqueline disagreed immediately. “If she gets sick they won’t know how to treat her. Besides, the project can’t let this get out. Especially now that I’ve got the clinic going. That’s all legitimate. If any of this got out -” “Okay, so that rules out social services,” Mulder said impatiently. “What next?” “She and Astrid are practically twins,” Jacqui said slowly, eyes on the table. I knew immediately what she was suggesting. “We can’t take on another child,” I said firmly, feeling guilty with the knowledge that if Ebony might be listening. “You can’t keep them apart,” Jacqui stated pointedly. “They’ve been apart their entire lives,” I protested. “Even now, they haven’t spoken. Astrid hates the idea of Ebony’s very existence.” “That’ll change.” “Will it?” I wondered, uncertain. Astrid had the stubborn ability to bear grudges for the smallest of reasons. “What else can you do, Dana?” Jacqueline shrugged helplessly. ‘We can’t take another child,” I said shortly. It wasn’t an option. We had barely enough time or money for the three we had, and the mute Ebony was far too big a burden to carry on top of everything else. It would break us. “Dana...” Jacqueline was pleading with me as if the solution she was offering were the only available. I ignored her, turning in my seat to watch Mulder as he paced restlessly. “There has to be another option,” I said, still turned away from her. My tone was growing sharper as the feeling of chaos again descended on me. Just when it seemed my life was finally making sense, the relationships in it falling into place, something like this came along to test my endurance and stir up another big mess. “I don’t see what it is, Dana. Unless I can find somebody associated with the project... but they aren’t the sort of people who you want adopting a kid like that, are they? They’re like -” She broke off as the ring of the doorbell bounced through the house. We watched as Astrid appeared from her bedroom and flew across the room to open the door in the first sign of enthusiasm since she’d heard about Ebony. She greeted Mom with a hug and tugged her away without so much as giving any of the rest of us a chance to say hi. I’d have to explain this to Mom later, I realised with a sigh as I watched the door close after them. I stood and went to latch it, then, instead of returning to the kitchen table, I headed into the living room where Ebony was curled up in the armchair, still in pajamas and wrapped in a blanket. “Ebony?” I was pleased to note that she actually looked at me when I called her. “Sweetie, I think it’s time you got dressed. Let’s go see what clothes we can find you, huh?” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - Jacqueline and I stood in antagonistic silence for the ten or so minutes Scully and Ebony were gone. I wasn’t surprised that Scully waited until Astrid was out of the way to dig through her drawers for clothes for Ebony. Astrid would have screamed bloody murder. It would be hard enough dealing with her reaction when she got home. When, finally, the pair of them returned, it wasn’t a moment too soon. Jacqueline and I had been both seething. I couldn’t quite define why I was so infuriated by her - maybe it was simply this upon years of intrusion on our marriage and family life. I was fed up with her and this had been the last straw. And she returned the anger more out of defiance, self-protection, than anything else, I thought. Astrid’s clothes were too big on Ebony, I noted, even though they were clothes I hadn’t seen on Astrid in quite a while, presumably because they were getting too small. Scully offered her half the pantry and the only thing accepted was a handful of raisins, which she clutched tightly. She settled back down in front of the TV with some of Josh’s crayons and a stack of paper - I could see Scully had hopes the TV would be abandoned in favour of something more constructive. There was something unhealthy about the way she’d been staring at the TV screen, watching endlessly, since her arrival. Had she slept at all? I could hear Erin in the other room - earlier her gurgles had occasionally been loud enough to catch through the wall. Now I was hearing whimpering that sounded potentially deafening. Scully also heard it and headed off once she’d settled Ebony down, returning with a red-faced Erin on her hip two minutes later. Josh trailed behind, but on seeing Jacqueline still there, immediately retreated. I reached out to take the crying baby from Scully, wanting to share some of the burden, but she shook her head. “I’ve got her.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - JACQUELINE POV - We resumed the argument and for the next half hour or so it seemed we were endlessly rehashing, re-emphasizing, blaming each other and half-heartedly apologising and then, two minutes later, attacking again. It seemed that the accusations and frustrated sarcasm was always directed at me and I resented that wholeheartedly, cold anger masking the real hurt at being so distrusted. Dana and Fox I couldn’t quite figure out. They were alternatively snapping at each other and reaching out to comfort, so uncertain as to whether they were in each other’s good books or not, whether they should comfort or condemn. It was typical of their relationship these days, I thought. They ran hot and cold. I was repeating for the tenth time that I wasn’t responsible for this, that I hadn’t known, when their phone rang, cutting me off. I leaned back in silence under Fox’s glowering gaze as Dana snatched it up. “What? Yes, this is Agent Scully...” She pushed her chair back to stand, heading over to where Erin was sitting steadily upright on the sheepskin rug on the living room. The baby had been playing with a small ball which squeeked on squeezing, one of her favourite toys, and tossed it in Dana’s direction as she saw her stand, giggling gleefully when Dana, phone clamped between ear and shoulder, picked it up and handed it back to her firmly. “When was this?” Dana’s tone was sharp, but she sounded less emotional than she had during our arguments. “We’ll be there. Don’t let them disturb the crime scene too much.” She hung up, again passing the ball back to Erin. “Keep it, sweetie. Mommy can’t play right now.” She tossed the phone down on the table. “We’ve gotta go, Mulder,” she said brusquely. “They’ve found bodies.” She headed off into the bedroom, to get dressed, I assumed. But Fox’s eyes were on Erin. He suddenly dived toward the couch, and glancing across I saw why. Erin, only a minute ago seated near the wall, was now clumsily crawling toward the couch, where her red ball was wedged. I watched as he swept her off the ground, puzzled by the panicked look on his face. “Hey, she’s just crawling. All babies do eventually, you know.” “I *should* have known,” Fox said grimly, holding her tightly as she reached out for the ball, whimpering. He turned and yelled, “Josh!!” I was surprised at the anger in his tone. Sure, I knew he had it in him, I’d just been assaulted by it for an hour. But he never yelled at the kids. “Josh!” he yelled again. Passing Erin into my arms, he kneeled down to extricate the red ball and then, peering under as he stretched an arm out under the couch, he withdrew a box the size of a shoebox, but flatter. Josh had appeared by the time he was on his feet again, and he cringed at Fox’s expression. “You going to leave these mousetraps lying around so anybody can lose a hand?” Fox demanded. Josh’s hurt eyes flared with panic as he glanced across at Erin and I. Then, seeing us both unharmed, he was able to look at Fox evenly, unhappy but fearless. Fox ripped the box open, violently pulling apart the mass of springs and elastic bands. I saw Josh’s face contort for a fleeting second before he regained control, hands clenched at his sides. Fox tossed the destroyed construction to the ground. “Keep your things out of Erin’s reach,” he said flatly. The anger had faded and I guessed maybe guilt was setting in. I cast my eyes down, not wanting to face any further wrath, seeing out of the corner of my eye as Josh carefully picked up the remains of his mousetrap and headed out of the room. Dana, returning, now dressed in black pants and that matching jacket I’d long admired, brushed past Josh as he left, catching him to see the mangled mess in his hands. “What happened to your trap, Josh?” “It broke,” Josh said quietly. He pushed past Dana to leave and she stared at Fox, then me, then back at Fox. “What happened here?” I summoned up false brightness. “Erin crawled,” I announced. A fleeting look of surprised dismay crossed her face, and then Dana smiled, but it was a slow, bittersweet smile. “I’m sorry I missed it,” she said with genuine regret. She took Erin from my arms and hugged her closely, kissing the soft auburn head. “Hey, my beautiful baby.” Fox moved closer to them, smiling tightly. His eyes met Dana’s over Erin’s head and a brief tug-of-war seemed to take place. Then, as if in surrender, he dropped his gaze to Erin’s face, tickling her under her chin. “Heya, monkey.” “Mulder?” Dana’s free hand went to Fox’s own chin and she gently tipped it upward so he would face her. “I’m sorry.” “You shouldn’t quarrel with the guard, you know,” he murmured, straightening up and watching absently as Erin wrapped her fingers around his pinkie. “You don’t want a breach in security. Neither of us do.” I had no idea what they were talking about but, from the look on Dana’s face, the metaphor had definate meaning for the two of them. She smiled wistfully, knowingly, as if they were sharing a secret. “You’re right.” She still had Erin on her hip and the baby’s fingers were still tightly gripping Fox’s, her other hand reaching up to tug at Dana’s hair, her eyes curious. But none of this prevented Dana from drawing Fox a little closer, bringing her lips to his, teasing. The intimacy of the moment had only crept up on me and I suddenly realised I’d missed any opportunity to escape and give them some privacy. Maybe Dana sensed this because after only a few seconds she pulled away, shifting her grip on Erin. “You’d better get changed,” she told Fox quietly. “I told them we’d be there as soon as possible.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - I was already regetting yelling at Josh. One of the first rules I’d set myself about the kids was to never yell at them. I didn’t want to rule them with fear the way my dad had ruled me. I couldn’t imagine a more terrible way to discipline. I checked in on Josh to apologise and found him already painstakingly reconstructing the destroyed mousetrap, open math books pushed aside on his small desk. “I’m sorry, kiddo,” I said quietly. I felt incredibly ashamed of the way I’d acted, angry at my anger. He glanced up at me, small tube of superglue in hand. Then he shrugged oh-so slightly. “You don’t want Erin to get hurt. I don’t either. I should have been more careful.” “You do more for her than I do. I didn’t have any right to yell at you, when I’ve made so many more mistakes. I had no right to judge you, Josh.” “You’re her father.” “I’m your father, too.” He half-shrugged, and I wondered not for the first time how much he and Astrid were really ours. There was so much to them that I didn’t know if I’d ever understand, intellect surpassing my own and Scully’s. The day would come, I knew, when Josh’s opinion would be taken above my own. “I still shouldn’t have yelled, shouldI?” I challenged him, watching guiltily as he turned back to the desk, tossing a broken elastic band in the trash and taking a new one from his desk drawer, sliding it into place. “You were just watching out for Erin,” he persisted quietly, his back still to me. “That’s what good parents do.” “Good parents treat their children with understanding. Equally. You’re just as important to us as she is, Josh.” “She’s more vulnerable than we are.” He paused, looking at me speculatively. “She’s going to have a very different life to us, isn’t she?” “Yeah, she is. But-” “I know you’ll try not to to treat her more specially,” he assured me quietly, musing, “Although you know she’ll matter most, because she’s your flesh and blood.” “That’s not true.” “Yes, it is.” He looked at me searchingly. “I don’t mind, really. Because she needs you more than me and Astrid. That’s okay. You and Mommy created Erin and she’s perfect, and she’s entirely yours.” “Aren’t you and Astrid ours?” I asked curiously. “Not entirely.” His forehead creased. “We belong to ourselves, too.” “Does Ebony belong to herself, do you think?” He stared at me, then dropped his gaze. After several seconds he shrugged, again turning back to his work. I wasn’t sure if he genuinely had no answer or simply didn’t want to share it. I patted him on the back. “Mom and I have to go to work. Jacqui’s going to stay here and look after you guys, okay?” He nodded, twisting a spring with a pair of needle-nosed pliers. It had been badly distorted in my angry hands and I wondered how long it would take him to twist it back into shape. “Why don’t you just throw it out and use another?” I asked curiously. “I ran out,” he answered quietly. “I’ll pick up some more for you on the way home.” I felt better for the promise, that I was in a small way righting my wrongs. “Is there anything else you need?” He shook his head. “Just the springs.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - JACQUELINE POV - Fox returned, looking moody. Dana had put Erin in her bouncer, vowing that procuring a playpen had just shot to the top of her list of priorities. It had been on the list a while, I knew, but somehow she and Fox never had enough time to get to anything other than the necessities. “Ready?” Fox asked impatiently. He bent to kiss Erin’s forehead and she reached up with a giggle to squeeze his nose as he pulled away. He let her grip slip to his finger, then gently peeled her off. Too preoccupied before, I realised with a jolt that they were assuming I’d stay and mind the kids. “Whoa, wait -” I protested. “I can’t stay here, I have to get back.” They looked at each other, then at me. “My mom’ll be back with Astrid in half an hour. Can’t you manage that?” Dana’s brow furrowed. I glanced at the clock. Oh, shi-... I should have been back an hour ago, at least have rung... “Not really,” I answered honestly. “You owe us this,” Fox said shortly. Dana shot him an angry glance but he was staring at me, eyes hard. I felt infuriated that I was always the target of his anger. An odd sense of hurt, too. It mattered to me what Fox and Dana thought of me. They were two of the few friends I had. “Just another ten minutes?” Dana asked, frown deepening. “We could ring for a sitter if you’d -” “It’s all right, I’ll stay,” I said briefly, glancing up at the clock, my stomach turning as I wondered. “I’ll need to ring the clinic, though. See what’s going on...” Dana nodded, obviously relieved. Fox was waiting for her by the door and, after uttering a quick thanks, she followed him out. I headed toward the phone, dialing the clinic and asking to be patched through to Aaron Harrison. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MARGARET SCULLY - Jacqueline was the only one around when I dropped Astrid home. Erin on her hip, there was a confidence, a possessiveness in the way she held the baby that disturbed me a little. If only Dana was able to spend more time with the kids... I knew that the nanny and Jacqueline spent as much time with Erin - and Astrid and Joshua, too - as Dana and Fox did. It wasn’t a situation I was happy with, but I stuck resolutely to my decision not to interfere. Besides, I knew better than to go against my strong-willed daughter. Diplomatic as ever, Jacqueline offered me the baby, commenting that she was just about ready for a nap. She had a cold and hadn’t been sleeping so well because of it. Erin was fussy, rubbing her eyes as I held her, whinging. I finally put her down to sleep in her crib, feeling hampered by Jacqueline who stood in the doorway watching, as if guarding my granddaughter. “Did Astrid tell you?” she asked quietly. I turned away from the crib to look at her. “About what?” “Ebony.” “Ebony?” I repeated curiously. Jacqueline frowned, rubbing her forehead. “I was hoping she would have. You know about Astrid and Josh’s ...past, don’t you?” “If you’re referring to yourself being their sister, yes,” I answered steadily. Dana had been honest with me about that. There’d been things she’d held back, I knew. I’d always known when Dana was lying or equivocating. She’d never been a good liar. Jacqueline looked relieved to hear it, but only a little. She seemed nervous, and I was very curious to find out what was going on. It wasn’t exactly rare for Dana and Fox’s lives to be disrupted like this, but it didn’t usually affect the kids or Jacqueline. “The genetics project my parents were running,” she began. “The same project that created Astrid and Josh... There were more children created.” “More children,” I echoed. I didn’t know how Dana was able to get her mind around these things. So many of the things that she told me about seemed to belong only in science fiction, and I knew that a lot of the time she kept the worst of it from me. It was so strange to me, but somehow Dana’s belief and acceptance of these things allowed me to accept them myself. I trusted her judgement - Lord knows she’d always been the most scientific, skeptical one in the family. She always made her own judgement, even now. Held out if she was skeptical against Fox’s eagerness to believe. If her skepticism had overcome this, then I could deal with it too, however alien the idea. “You mean like cloning?” I asked calmly. She nodded, troubled. “Yesterday Dana was alerted to a young girl, hospitalised. They believed that she was Astrid - match of fingerprints and photo ID.” “But it wasn’t Astrid,” I said slowly, piecing together the unbelieveable. “No. Her name is Ebony.” I looked up at her, realising. “She’s here?” How could Dana live such an unpredictable life, a mind so broadened that she’d brought this child into her home and then dashed off when work called? I couldn’t understand it. It couldn’t be healthy for Astrid or Josh, living in a household where parents frequently took off at a phonecall, gone for days at a time, sometimes. A household where both parents carried guns and had been shot several times. There seemed so little security in their home and in the sanctity of family. I wondered how Dana dealt with it. It was a world away from the predictable, secure home we’d given our children. Jacqueline nodded. “Out on the living room couch, last time I saw. You didn’t notice her - she was hiding. She won’t speak or eat... Dana’s getting stressed about it.” Suspending disbelief, I let my mind process the information. “What about Fox?” “Angry,” she said grimly. “He thinks I knew about her existence, that I deliberately withheld the information.” “What about Astrid and Josh?” “Astrid’s angry, too.” Of course she was, I thought. She’d been far quieter than normal on the way to and from mass, clinging to me during the service. I’d wondered about that - certainly, she was usually an affectionate child, but she’d gripped my arm as if I were the last possession she owned. Had the presence of this Ebony so affected her, threatened her position in the family? Or was it for attention? I could imagine that this extra load had distracted Dana from Astrid and Josh. “And Josh?” She half-smiled. “He seems to be the only one she’s not frightened of.” There was an awkward silence. “Can I see the child?” She raised her eyebrows, then shrugged. “We’ve all tried to get through, but, yeah, sure.” From her expression it was clear that she didn’t think I’d have any success. I wasn’t really holding out hope myself, but slipped past her out of the bedroom. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - JACQUELINE POV - I let her go talk to Ebony, silently certain that she would be as unsuccessful as Dana and Fox and I had been. Astrid was in her room, sitting on her bed, seemingly engrossed in a novel she was reading for school. Josh was, I guessed, in his cave. Astrid was ignoring me as I approached the bed, even as I stood right beside her. “I know why you wanted to go to mass today,” I said quietly. She kept her eyes on the book, but I could see that she wasn’t reading, only staring, unfocussed, at the pages. “You wanted to pretend that Ebony wasn’t around, just do what you ordinarily do with Dana. But she’s here, Astrid. For the while, maybe longer -” “She’s not staying,” Astrid said flatly. She ran her finger along the inner spine of the book, smoothing it down. “We don’t know what’s happening yet.” “She’s not staying,” she repeated. “Dana and Fox took you in, Astrid. You know they had to make the decision what would happen with you and Josh. Aren’t you glad they decided they wanted you to stick around?” “This is different!” she protested. “They needed us and we needed them. But we don’t need Ebony.” “She needs you.” “She needs somebody,” Astrid shot back. “But that doesn’t mean us.” By ‘us’, I gathered she meant Fox and Dana too, not just she and Josh. “Who, then?” I challenged. “I don’t care. Anybody.” “You don’t care?” I asked curiously. “You’re asking stupid questions!” She slammed her book closed and threw it at the wall, just missing my head. She would have hit me if she’d really wanted to, I knew. Jumping from the floor and landing heavily on her feet, she pushed me away as I tried to catch on to her, storming out of the room. She could be a sweet and bubbly child, but she also had a hell of a temper. I dropped to the floor, drawing my feet under me, and taking a moment to just rest, my head in my hands. This day had been a mess of emotions and accusations from the beginning, and on top of the last night’s events... I didn’t know how much more I could handle before I cracked. “Duckie?” I realised Josh, head poked out through the blankets, was watching me curiously. I reached out to ruffle his hair. “Hey, kiddo.” “You look tired,” he observed quietly. “I am,” I admitted. “I’ve got some tough things going on.” “At work?” “Yeah, at work.” I paused, leaning back against the wall, stretching my legs out in front of me but then quickly drawing them up to my chest. “There was a baby born, last night. A little girl. She was premmy - almost three months premature. We’ve got her on life support but...” “Is she going to die?” Josh asked softly. I shrugged, feeling as if the weight of the world were on my shoulders. That tiny little baby... “I don’t know,” I admitted, helpless. “I checked in earlier, and they said that she’s weakening. But you can never tell...” We had the finest OB-GYNs in the whole damn country and still this happened. “This is the first time a baby has been born so dangerously premature?” I nodded. “Since I opened the clinic.” “What about before - when they were running the project?” He was frowning. “A lot of babies died then, didn’t they?” “Yeah, they did.” But Cate and Rodger had kept me away from that. They’d been responsible. I was the one responsible, now. “This isn’t your fault, Duckie.” He was so compassionate, so quietly earnest. There had always been a wisdom in Josh that Astrid lacked - that sometimes I wondered if I also lacked. He was quietly perceptive, analysing from a distance. “I don’t know whether I should go back to the clinic,” I confessed. I had no qualms about showing such vulnerability to Josh, no concerns that it was far too adult an issue for him to deal with. “If I do, I’m leaving your grandma here with you and Astrid and Erin and Ebony, but if I stay... I should be there.” “Were you the doctor?” “She was Aaron Harrison’s patient,” I admitted heavily. “But I was assisting. And I helped pioneer so many of the techniques we use - it’s my damn clinic, Josh. I’m responsible. I can’t just stay away - I can’t be a coward. But... God...” I felt myself beginning to crumble. “You can stay with life... or wait for death,” Josh stated unhappily. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it.” I half-shrugged, feeling close to tears. He climbed fully out of his cave and climbed onto my lap, sliding his arms around me, pressing his head against my breast. If anybody had been watching, they would almost have been fooled into thinking it were I comforting the little boy, not the other way around. “Tell me what I should do,” I whispered. It was cowardly, so cowardly, putting the burden of such a responsibility on a little boy’s shoulders. He was silent for a very long time and I wondered whether he would answer at all, or whether he couldn’t. “She’s in God’s hands,” he said quietly, finally. “Whatever you do, you can’t change what’s going to happen.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - We’d managed to avoid discussion of the morning’s events so far and I wasn’t planning to start. Mulder was driving and I was picking at the hem of my mud-encrusted pants. The bodies had been discovered half-buried in a muddy quagmire on the town’s outskirts - eleven uncovered so far, and they were still searching. The mud had splashed all up my pants legs when the coroners, decked out like fishermen as they struggled to carry the bodies out, one by one, had lost balance and the bodybag had slipped from their grips, landing with a sick splat in the mud beside me. Mulder was far worse off - seeing a scrap of fabric snagged on the reeds, he had waded out to grab it before it got disentangled and floated away. The boots he’d been able to obtain were only shin-high and although the water were only shallow, he’d still managed to end up half-covered with mud. If our day’s work had ceased then, I would have grudgingly accepted it - spending Sunday afternoons fishing for ccorpses in muddy bogs was all part of the job, after all. But Mulder wanted us to tag along so I could perform one of the autopsies. I protested that the local coroner could do it just as quickly, but Mulder insisted that he wanted to know now - and that if the local coroner and I did an autopsy each we’d be able to establish cause of death and draw better conclusions about the killer’s MO. I’d forgotten to throw my sneakers in the car and so had to stay in pumps. Mulder’s insistence on an ‘immediate’ autopsy couldn’t get us past the half hour of paperwork to be filled out, and on finally finishing up, I announced shortly to Mulder that there was no sign of blunt force or any wound, and that we were waiting for the tox screen. And the town’s lab wouldn’t be open til tomorrow 8am to have that run. The coroner, finishing up his own autopsy, concurred with my findings. I couldn’t help but empathise when I saw his expression as all the other unearthed bodies were brought in for cold storage. But volunteer my assistance? No way in hell. I wanted to go home to a bubblebath and guilt-trip Mulder into giving me a footrub. I sighed, settling down and closing my eyes at the thought. “Can’t stop yet, Scully.” He sounded surprisingly playful. I opened one eye to look at him wearily and found him grinning at me. “C’mon... You’re not going to stay mad at me, are you?” Typical Mulder. Always joked around when he was nervous or anxious. My anger at him faded away at the genuine concern I could see in his eyes. “For a while,” I said comfortably. He pouted and I smiled, shaking my head. “You need somebody to keep you on your toes.’ He chuckled, nodding in agreement. I shifted in my seat so I could watch him as he stared ahead. “We’re going to have to turn up at work tomorrow, aren’t we?” I mused, less merry. He nodded grimly. “Yeah, we are. Skinner would eat us alive if we didn’t. Especially now that we’ve got bodies.” “What are we going to do about Ebony? We can’t let Kathy -” “Call her.” He was chewing on his lower lip pensively. “Tell her to take the next few days off - make up something. And ring Jacqueline - she can cover Erin and Ebony until we figure something out.” “What if she’s got to be at work? She can’t just drop everything to babysit, Mulder,” I pointed out. “She has her own responsibilities.” “And Ebony isn’t one of them?” There was an edge to his voice and I regretted that I’d brought the subject up, just as we were both so good-tempered. “Could we just give her the benefit of the doubt, Mulder?” I pleaded. “Just for now?” He glanced across at me grimly, but wavering. “For my sake - for the kids’ sakes? We’re not making anything easier by blaming her, except maybe our own consciences.” He turned back to the road, fingers tapping on the steering wheel in agitation. “I’ll try,” he said finally. He drew a deep breath. “You might as well call her now, let her know.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - JACQUELINE POV - Margaret had left half an hour ago. I knew my presence made her uncomfortable but I didn’t know what I was doing wrong. She’d somehow coaxed Ebony into sitting at the kitchen table, colouring in an unused colour-in book that had come with Josh’s pencils. The silent little girl seemed completely oblivious to Astrid, who sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, swinging her legs moodily, socked feet banging against the cupboard doors. Erin was still asleep in her crib, and Josh had crawled back into his cave. I felt oddly alone. I made myself some hot chocolate and dropped down into one of the armchairs to sip it slowly, wincing as it scalded the inside of my mouth. I laid the mug carefully on the coffee table and leant back as I waited for it to cool, thinking about the conversation I’d just had with Dana. Had I been cowardly in agreeing to take time off? I could easily tell myself that I was doing Fox and Dana a favour and taking a well-earned break from work, but in reality I welcomed an excuse to stay away longer. I dreaded the death and grieving I feared would be there on my return. And, for the first time, I doubted my own ability to do what I did. I didn’t tell Dana any of this, of course. Josh was the only one who knew about the tiny little girl who struggled to breathe, whose complicated and premature birth I’d rushed to after Astrid’s party. Dana and Fox thought it was only a cowardly excuse to avoid facing them about Ebony... Only a few times before had I experienced such overwhelming despair, that dark cloud that had been hanging over me for a day now. I almost wished that I had some faith to comfort me. I wondered about Josh’s words. Such a simple statement, but it spoke of a faith I didn’t even know he harboured. Astrid went to mass with Dana almost every Sunday, but Josh had only ever gone once or twice, never shown any interest or enthusiasm as Astrid had. But then, Josh had always been full of surprises. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - I’d forgotten the damn springs. I realised the moment I stepped foot inside and saw Josh with Erin on the living room floor. She was clumsily crawling around and he followed behind, watching carefully, checking that there was nothing in her way. “Hey, buddy.” He didn’t take his eyes off her even for a second. “Grandma was here but she had to go. Duckie said we’d be okay til you got home.” I nodded. “Sure.” I transferred my gaze to Jacqueline, who sat hunched in one of the armchairs, chin in hands, then to the figure who sat at the kitchen table. I thought it was Astrid, but, approaching, realised it was actually Ebony, tongue poking out in concentration as she coloured. She was sitting the way Astrid always sat, feet tucked under her, bent over, close the paper as if reading small print. It was only the gaunt face that distinguished her from Astrid as she sat there. “Where’s Astrid?” Scully peeled off her still mud-caked shoes before entering the apartment, pulling apart a newspaper and carefully laying out a few sheets on which she placed the once-black pumps. I still had my ruined shoes on, I realised. Oops. “In her room,” Jacqueline gestured. She stood as Scully headed off down the hall. “I should go. I’ll need to reschedule some things at the clinic.” I nodded. I wasn’t going to prevent her from leaving -it would be a relief. I wanted no more arguing. She headed toward the door, bending to give Josh and Erin kisses on the head as she passed them. “Tomorrow at eight?” she checked, pulling on her coat. “Bright ‘n’ early,” I agreed. Recalling my promise to Scully earlier to treat Jacqueline more fairly, I offered her a tight smile. I locked the door after her and headed into the kitchen. I was starving. “You’re getting mud everywhere,” Josh announced quietly as he buckled Erin into her babyseat. “Mommy will make you clean it up, too.” So maybe a shower should come before food, I regretfully acknowledged. “Yeah, you’re right, kiddo.” I watched for a moment as he pulled out half a loaf of bread and began to make himself a sandwich. My stomach growled and I quickly turned away, heading toward the bathroom. Then I realised that Scully was already in the shower. I cracked the door open wide enough to poke my head through. But before I could ask how long she’d be, she slid the shower door open and poked her head out. “You’d better not be getting mud everywhere, Mulder. Because-” “I know, I know.” I grinned guiltily. “It’d be my job to clean it up.” “Exactly.” She withdrew her head, sliding the door closed. I watched her for a few moments, her small, limber form reduced to a hazy blur through the frosted glass. Then her head poked out again. “Well, what are you waiting for?” She grinned, holding out a loofah like a peace offering, an offer of time by ourselves. “I need somebody to do my back.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - The brief intimate interlude in the shower may not have been enormously successful when it came to cleanliness, but it undeniably improved our spirits. I was confronted by Josh as I headed toward the kitchen, Mulder in tow. “Almost dinner time?” he asked, quietly hopeful. “You just had a sandwich,” Mulder reminded him, amused. “How could you possibly be hungry?” “I made it for Ebony.” He half-shrugged. The conversation Mulder had narrated to me had sounded just like every other pre-dinner conversation with hungry children, and it suddenly took on a whole new meaning. “Did she eat it?” I asked curiously. He half-shrugged, half-nodded, gesturing to the little girl. She still sat at the table, but was quietly and methodically pulling apart a jelly sandwich, eating it piece by tiny piece. So absorbed in the task, the rest of us might as well have not existed. I was astounded - Josh had pulled off what had seemed impossible. What was more, he didn’t seem to think there was anything particularly remarkable in it. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - I watched as Scully hugged Josh tightly. “You’re a miracle-worker, you know that?” She seemed ecstatic, and I couldn’t blame her. I was marvelling at Josh’s seemingly effortless talent myself. He knew how to get through to people in a way I never could. Astrid was the only one absent and I headed into her bedroom, not wanting her to let herself be left out. The lights were off and she was only a huddle of blankets, but I knew she couldn’t possibly be asleep. It wasn’t even six, yet. “Astrid, I know you’re awake,” I began quietly. “I want you to talk to me. Yell at me, if you want. But don’t keep it all inside.” No response. I flicked on the lights. “Turn them off,” she said shortly. I obliged, and the room was dark again. “Are you going to talk to me?” I asked quietly. “Or are you going to be silent, like Ebony?” I provoked her deliberately, knowing that if I had any chance of getting her to talk, it was in anger. And I was right. She threw back the covers and jerked upright. “I’m not like her!!” she cried fiercely. “I know you’re not,” I agreed. “Not in everything. But you do have some things in common.” She glared at me. “Nothing that matters.” I didn’t push the point, but rather kept silent, waiting for her to continue. “Promise me you won’t let her stay,” she demanded, a little quieter, a little uncertain. “I can’t promise that, Astrid,” I protested. “Promise me!!” she shouted. There was a grating desperation in her voice that chilled me. Only when she was very, very hurt did Astrid get so upset. “I promise,” I said quietly, regretting my acquiescence even as I spoke the words. “Good,” she said shortly. She turned away, pulling the blankets up around her. I was about to leave the room when she asked, her voice muffled, “When’s dinner?” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - I could remember hearing on a plane, once, two mothers discussing the eating habits of their toddlers. One had been anxious because her daughter, her first child, ate scantily during meals and couldn’t be enticed into eating more regularly or substantially. Her mother was worried that she wasn’t getting enough to eat. I’d listened curiously to the conversation, agreed with the second woman’s remark that if the child was really hungry, she would eat more, and wondered why this wasn’t plain to the first woman. That long-forgotten conversation I’d eavesdropped on came to mind as I watched Ebony during dinner. Even Josh, at two, had always eaten everything put on his plate with the maturity of an adult. Not for us the terrible twos with hyperactive behaviour and irrational eating habits. We hadn’t had to deal with those difficulties, nothing more dire than the occasional bed-wetting. And now, watching as Ebony picked at her food, not wanting to be helped or touched in any way, I was beginning to realise how easy we’d had it with Josh and Astrid, and what lay ahead for Erin. And I wondered, like the worried woman, whether Ebony was eating enough, even now. Because with this child I couldn’t be sure if she would let herself starve or not. Worries aside, though, the meal was surprisingly relaxed. I don’t know who had broken through to Astrid, but she was smiling, telling us about the novel she was reading, ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’, and generally being agreeable. I was stunned when she appeared just before dinner, bright-eyed, smiling, eager to help me by setting the table. She’d set a place for Ebony without asking me, advising me not to put dressing on the salad because Ebony wouldn’t like it. I met Mulder’s eyes over Astrid’s head during dinner and he grinned at me enigmatically. Seemed that Josh wasn’t the only one who could work miracles. Astrid, who had barely eaten anything all day, asked Ebony if she could eat what Ebony had left on her plate. I saw the little girl shy back from Astrid a little, frowning in genuine confusion, before nudging the plate closer to her twin. It was the first time I’d seen such a level of interaction - before Ebony might as well have been deaf and blind, she was so locked away in her own world, unresponsive except for the most basic of actions. Her eyes were on Erin as Mulder, the first to finish his own meal, spoonfed the baby some mashed potato. There was a curious sort of apprehension in the way Ebony watched Erin that made me wonder, but I was too overjoyed to see her simply interacting, however silently, to say anything. I’d expected the kids to wander off again after dinner, but for the first time in a long time Astrid and Josh seemed content to stick around. We ended up in a game of Trivial Pursuit - four of us playing, Ebony sitting huddled on the couch, her unfocused gaze on us. Again, she was a voyeur. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - It wasn’t until almost eleven that night that we got all three kids showered, teeth brushed and into bed, Ebony back on the couch, now hugging a stuffed Triceratops Josh had lent her. Scully and I lay side by side on the covers of our bed. She was propped up on the pillows as Erin guzzled her nightly fill and seemed almost unconscious of the infant sucking at her breast, occasionally shifting her in her arms, a finger gently and rhythmically stroking the tiny, elfish face. The simple beauty of the scene caught me by surprise and I lay there on my side, watching with quiet appreciation, smiling as Erin’s hand caught on the fine chain around Scully’s neck and gripped tightly. Lifting my gaze to see Scully’s face, I found her watching me. From the frown I could tell she was thinking about work. How could she have been thinking about work at such a precious time, I wondered. “What if this is some sort of Heaven’s Gate thing?” she suggested, frowning. “That sort of scam?” I was surprised. “I didn’t say ‘scam’,” she corrected. Already I could hear the control entering her voice, the sharper edges to her tone. “But if there is some sort of cult, some church, who believe that -” “That they can ride to Heaven on a comet?” I finished sardonically. “-to be saved they have to give up their earthly existence,” she finished, completely ignoring me, “Then that would fit with the facts. Some of, anyhow. We have no proof that they didn’t leave of their own free will. The bible with the circled verse may be a message for the families they left behind.” “And they went off and poisoned themselves,” I concluded offhandedly, trying to prevent this from becoming another argument. “Maybe they truly believed that such an action would get them into Heaven.” “Do you believe that?” I looked at her with genuine concern. I didn’t like when Scully questioned the order of her universe. That was my job. Hers was to be the rock. “I believe that God has made promises to us that will be kept.” “Judgement day,” I stated. I had enough knowledge of the scriptures to match Scully’s upbringing, I knew. The difference was that I came from a skeptical angle, she from that of a believer. “Maybe these people were creating their own judgement day,” she mused. “Maybe they truly believed that the end of the world had come. People get hung up on dates, you know. There’s always people out there making predictions, biblical numbercrunchers who’ll believe with complete and utter certainty that they’ve computed the date prophesised as Judgement Day.” “So you think these people suicided?” “We can’t really tell until we get the tox screen back,” she demurred. “And, to be honest, there is some indication of foul play involved. But -” “There’s an enormous difference between if this is voluntary suicide or cold-blooded murder,” I argued. I could understand that maybe she was watching how she phrased her suggestions - she didn’t want an argument either. But her reasoning lacked coherence. I wondered what had brought the Heavens Gate incident to mind. There had been far more publicised situations since. We’d been in such a situation ourselves, even, though that was a case I preferred not to recall too often. ‘Why are you thinking Heavens Gate?” I asked, curiousity getting the better of me. “Astrid did an assignment,” she answered cryptically, distracted as Erin pushed away from her, full. “What if there is foul play involved?” I asked practically. “And I think that’s most likely, given where we found the bodies and the lack of any evidence at that scene. What if there’s an individual striking people down in the name of God?” “You mean, believing he’s doing God’s work?” I nodded and she considered, lips pursed. “They laughed at Noah for building the ark, but that was God’s work. Sometimes God’s work can seem incomprehensible, but the pieces will fit together, in the end.” “So whoever killed these people did it because God spoke to him? Do you think that justified the action?” “I don’t believe that killing is right,” she disagreed. She slipped off the bed, Erin in arms, to take the baby across to her crib. “But I believe that God works in people. He speaks to people.” “Telling them to kill others.” I knew my comment would provoke her anger further but I couldn’t just leave the argument. “God strikes down the unrighteous, Mulder, those who disobeyed. It happened in the bible. Lot’s wife, who looked back, when God told them not to. She turned into a pillar of salt.” “We’ve got bodies here, Scully. Not pillars of salt. Besides, these victims weren’t unrighteous. Some were respected churchgoers.” “You could go to chuch your entire life and still not be right in God,” she said quietly. There seemed to be a resignation in her voice and I wondered, like I had many, many times before, what Scully really thought and believed in. I knew she struggled greatly with her beliefs, but this was the closest we ever got to sharing these things. Such a pity, because I wanted to know that part of her too. I was just as fascinated by her struggles as I was discomforted by them. She perched on the edge of the bed, staring away, and I pulled her closer to me, my arms around her warmly. “Is that what you’re afraid of?” I asked gently. Her body slackened in my arms. She was tired. “A little,” she admitted in a small voice. “I’m not finding enough time for God these days. I’m not trying hard enough.” I was silent. “This makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it?” she murmured, wistful. “No,” I lied. “Don’t lie, Mulder. I know it does. It always has.” She sighed. “It makes me uncomfortable too, sometimes. Because I know I’m not trying hard enough. Sometimes I just wish that I could ignore God, that it would be so much easier on my conscience. But I’m afraid of going to Hell.” How could somebody so beautiful, so perfect, so honest and good be worried about going to hell? I tightened my grip on her. “You don’t have anything to be afraid of, beautiful,” I whispered. She shifted restlessly in my arms. “But I do,” she protested unhappily. The Catholic upbringing ran deep, truths from her childhood she couldn’t shift. “Just get some sleep for now, Scully. You can stress over it in the morning.” Hardly helpful, I knew, but in a way I just wanted her to drop the issue. I didn’t like when Scully struggled and I couldn’t help her. And I couldn’t do anything in this case, I knew. This was between her and God. “‘Kay,” she agreed in a small voice, snuggling in against me. “Goodnight, Mulder.” She was soon still in my arms, but I knew she wasn’t asleep. We both lay there awake in the silence, wrestling with our demons. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - JACQUELINE POV - I turned up at a quarter past eight and found the apartment characteristically chaotic, a relief after the deathly stillness the day before. Astrid and Josh were getting ready for school, Fox sitting at the kitchen table in shirtsleeves, spoonfeeding Erin half-attentively as he read over the pile of papers spread out before him. He had a book open which I saw on closer look was a bible. I wondered what this case was about. “Mulder, you almost ready to go?” Dana appeared, pulling on her jacket. She nodded in greeting when she saw me, then headed over to where Ebony’s tiny form was again half-hidden on the couch amongst blankets. The TV was again on. Dana knelt down between it and the little girl. “Ebony, Fox and I are going out to work again. Astrid and Josh are going to school. Jacqui is going to stay here with you and Erin. Is that okay?” I caught only the smallest flicker of movement from the couch. Had she nodded? I wasn’t sure. As Dana stood she reached out to pat Ebony lightly on the head. “We’ll see you later tonight.” I was amazed at the change in the atmosphere of the place. Yesterday the air had been tense, almost electric. Now things seemed ... well, not exactly relaxed, but relatively comfortable. I wondered what had happened. Dana passed Fox his jacket and picked up Erin, giving her a kiss on the nose before passing her into my arms. Then she turned, yelling, “Astrid! Josh! Leaving in two minutes!” Fox was packing up his papers and Dana picked up the bible he’d been studying, frowning as she grabbed some paper towelling to wipe away the gob of baby food. “Sorry,” Fox said sheepishly. Dana shrugged. “Apologise to Astrid, not me. It’s hers.” That was clearly a surprise to Fox. I myself wasn’t quite sure what was going on with the kids in the faith department, but from what little conversation I’d had with the them, religion wasn’t something that Fox exactly... trusted. Fox flipped the blue-bound bible open to the beginning and read an inscription on the front page. “You gave it to her,” he noted. He sounded a little hurt, maybe jealous. Dana had been brought up a pretty devout Catholic, I knew. I could imagine that the relationship got a little rocky when it came to religion. That would explain a little of the tension between them at the moment, maybe. “She wanted one.” Dana shrugged. Her back was to him as she wiped down Erin’s highchair. Josh appeared, struggling to pull on his schoolbag. He had a lot of textbooks, I knew, but it still seemed ridiculous expecting such a small child to carry such weight every day. Dana rinsed the sponge and tossed it over the drying rack. “Where’s Astrid?” She glanced up at the clock. “We’ve got to go. Astrid!!” “Just a minute,” came the reply. “We’ll be in the car!” Dana yelled back. She turned to me, brushing her fingers through Erin’s small, silky locks. “We’re leaving early to pick up the kids so we should be home by four-thirty at the latest.” She lowered her voice as she added, “I don’t think Ebony has gotten any sleep yet. See if you can get her to have a nap, huh?” I nodded in agreement, watching as she dashed off, wondering about Ebony more than ever. Her insomnia was fascinating me, but also disturbing. I didn’t know which was worse - a child who had such bad dreams that they barely slept, or a child who refused to let themself to sleep. To be honest, I didn’t know if such a small child could have so much control over their own sleeping habits, especially when she just sat there in front of the TV. Ten minutes in front of the TV at night and I was out like a light. Astrid, in her usual flurry of movement, came running out of the bedroom. School shoes in one hand and pile of loose papers in the other, open schoolbag over one shoulder. “Hi Duckie, bye Duckie!” She was out the door before I could respond. I let out a sigh of relief. The household was back to normal, it seemed. More than ever I was intrigued as to what had led to such a turnaround. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - The day was spent investigating different Judgement Day cults. Scully got us in touch with a religious sciences expert who gave us the name of a small movement of churches across America which had set the first of December, year unknown, as their prophesised date - just only a week away, if it were this year. There was a church on the ourskirts of DC and we headed off accordingly, interviewing a smiling young man decked out in Armani with a clerical collar, apparently an ordained minister. Most of his congregation were naturally civil servants and their families, so he eagerly explained to us. He attributed the popularity of his church to the ‘liveable commandments’ he promoted and the joyful worship he encouraged amongst his parishoners. I couldn’t help but note the poster on the wall behind him which read “And He will lead the good to prosper”. He admitted that the church’s beliefs included that certain date as judgement day, explaining simply that the date had been revealed to the church’s founder one day by God as he was playing golf, but immediately negated any suggestion that his church’s teachings included suicide or murder. “We are doing God’s work here,” he said, offended. “Not the devil’s.” We were about to leave, having gathered no useful information, when he stopped us. “You may already be informed of this,” he said carefully. For the first time I thought I saw a very intelligent man standing before me. “But we have had, over the years, a few individuals whose religious fevour has not been sated by the teachings of our church. They believed that more positive action needed to be taken in doing the Lord’s work, that-” “That God wanted to use them as tools on earth to carry out his judgement,” Scully finished for him. I glanced across at her curiously. The reverend was nodding, and through the natural flamboyance I could see that he was genuinely troubled. “Man is not equal to God. To presume such a position out of arrogance...” “Would we be able to get the names of these ex-members?” Scully pulled out of notepad, poised to write, but the minister shook his head. “I never learnt their names. And they weren’t the only rebels. All the parishes had an odd man or two who could incite others to believing what they believed. The power of persuasion is very strong when others believe you have God on your side.” “Well, Sir, is there any way we could get in touch with any of these ‘rebels’, or somebody who could identify them?” I think I sounded a little impatient but I wasn’t in the mood to be preached to. “I believe that they have a website,” he admitted. “I’ve never visited it myself, but I’ve heard that they’ve attracted quite a following online.” I groaned silently. On the internet? Information could travel all-too easily throughout the world in that way. We thanked him and headed back to the office. Two hours, many search engines and hundreds of pages later, I heard a cry of victory from Scully. She swivelled the laptop around on the desk for me to see, an ugly site with a background of animated flames that made the large red text almost impossible to read. “‘We will not all sleep’,” I read aloud, “‘but we will all be changed - in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will’-” I cut off. “It’s the same verse.” “Exactly.” She stared at me across the desk. “So, what do we do now?” “Track down the site owner, get a list of visitors to the site -” “Damn. We can’t.” “We can’t?” I echoed. “Why not?” She gestured toward the wallclock. “We’ve got to pick the kids up, remember? It’s the last day the exhibition is open.” My eyes met hers, grimly holding her gaze for several seconds. “Right,” I agreed, adrenalin fading, a weary sort of disappointment instead meandering through my veins. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - It was the kids’ school’s annual art exhibition and the large auditorium was filled with tables and pinboards of artworks, some simple paintings by the younger children, but others exquisitely done, framed works that looked as if they belonged in a real gallery. These I assumed were all done by older students in their final years, and I was surprised to discover some of them done by only eleven and twelve year olds, delicate sketches of incredible likeness. But then, it was, after all, a school for gifted and talented children. Astrid and Josh were waiting, bored, outside for auditorium for us to arrive. Astrid threw herself at me, hugging me tightly. I was surprised by the sudden childish yet fierce affection, hugging her against me for several seconds before pulling away. I’d been neglecting her, I knew, and I felt the guilt. But now, at least, we were there and showing interest, compensating in some small way. Well, we were trying, anyway. Mulder was trying his damndest to be interested, though I knew his mind was still on work. He couldn't just shut down the work part of his brain for the day as easily as I could - not that it was ever truly easy for him. “I want to show you my paintings first,” she announced, grabbing my hand. She grabbed Mulder’s hand too and tugged us both along, Josh tagging behind. We saw a series of black and white photos she’d taken, intriguing although some were a little out of focus or badly lit. Next was a large colourful painting. It was like a Jackson Pollock restricted to primary colours, colour tipped haphazardly upon colour, masses of swirls and smudges and trails. Astrid bounced around behind us as we considered the artworks, demanding our opinion, but then correcting herself and asking only what we liked. Only when we’d given her satisfying enough feedback we we allowed to go see Josh’s artworks. He led us to them shyly, firstly to a series of computer-created works. He’d used some sort of alien landscaping program and created a bizarre, surreal environment, fires raging in the icy cold, strange, distorted beings staring directly out at us. It was oddly freaky. We moved on to some architectual sketches he’d done, although had his name not been on the label I would hardly have believed they were his. Impeccably straight lines, his pencil so light on the page it was only barely visible. He’d won a prize for most outstanding work in his class, which didn’t surprise me, although I wondered why he hadn’t told us, when even as we examined the works he said nothing. Astrid would have burst with pride if she had gained such a prize, would have told us the moment she saw us. But then, she and Josh were different, always had been. Last of Josh’s works was a series of smallish ceramic sculptures, which he quietly told us represented the five facets of mankind. He explained further at Mulder’s prompting, quietly narrating the science and theology of the concept. And we’d thought this little boy only knew about dinosaurs... There was a post-it note, “baby sleeping”, on the apartment door when we reached home, the same one that Kathy regularly used to stop people from ringing the bell and waking Erin. But as we let ourselves in, I could see Erin clumsily crawling in an area Jacqueline had fenced off with pillows, her toys scattered over the rug, as Jacqueline supervised. The baby headbutted the couch and fell back on her diapered bottom, letting out an uncertain whimper. It was only as I headed forward to pick her up that I realised that Jacqueline wasn’t alone on the couch - lying heavily in her arms was a soundly sleeping Ebony. “Hey,” I marvelled, staring. “How did you manage that?” Jacqui shrugged, offering me a small smile. “She just couldn’t stay awake any longer, I guess. She’s only been out for half an hour.” “She fell asleep in your arms?” I asked curiously. Jacqui shook her head, flushing a little. “No. I just wanted to hold her.” I understood, remembering my own desperate compulsion to hold Josh or Astrid, someone else’s children, so long ago. Ebony slept, and slept and slept. Jacqui made no move to shift her from her arms, as if afraid it would wake the child, and instead she quietly dictated to Josh as he sat at the coffee table, making notes for his family-history assignment, the Moss part. I listened as I watched Mulder playing with Erin on the rug and Astrid who danced around the room, juggling, fascinated by the amount of knowledge in the subject Jacqui held in her head. She reeled off names, places and dates as casually and effortlessly as if she were naming the days of the week. What really caught my interest, however, was when she ran short on facts about her mother’s side of the family. She admitted that she had only the sketchiest details on Cate before her partnership in the project, and nothing before the age of fifteen. “Haven’t you tried to find out?” Josh asked her curiously. But Jacqui shook her head. “All I’ve ever wanted to do was put it all behind me, Joshie. You know why.” He nodded sombrely, casting a glance up at me before returning his gaze to Jacqueline. “Maybe you could find out now.” “Why are you so curious?” Jacqueline frowned a little, though I think it was genuine puzzlement than anger. Josh half-shrugged. “She was our mother.” That disturbed me enough that I left the conversation, heading into the bedroom. I loved Josh, had such enormous affection and admiration for him, but at times I felt that he were only loaned to me, a stranger allowing me to care for him, to keep the adult responsibilities at bay even if he were equipped enough to bear them himself. It was discomforting. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - JACQUELINE POV - It was past six when Fox lifted the sleeping child from my arms, holding her as tenderly as if she were his own, waiting for me to stand, stretching my numb limbs, before laying her down again, tucking the blankets around her. She didn’t so much as stir, not surprisingly. She was sleeping like the dead. I wondered if that was only because of the situation, or whether she, like Astrid, Josh and myself, always slept heavily. I’d given Josh all the information I had on the so-called family tree for his assignment and he disappeared into his bedroom with a laptop to start typing it up. I helped Dana with the salad for dinner and we all sat down to eat it with store-bought lasange. Astrid was in high-spirits, but I felt there was something a little forced about her cheerfulness. Josh was quiet as always, until he and Astrid started giggling about an art teacher they both had. Erin, never a baby to conform to regular hours, had fallen asleep and was tucked in her crib. The conversation was carefully muted as to not wake the child on the couch and the kids quickly disappeared, returning to their own activities. Fox and Dana had seemed a little edgy despite the progress made and I wondered how their day at work had been. I’d put the question to Fox earlier, out of politeness more than anything else, and his reply had been short. Fox and Dana disappeared into their bedroom for almost an hour after dinner and when they returned they seemed more relaxed. I was sitting in one of the armchairs, my eyes constantly straying to Ebony as I attempted to watch TV. “Still sleeping?” Dana noted. She stood in the doorway and Fox, behind her, slid his arms around her waist, squeezing her affectionately. She smiled, turning to whisper something to him, which I didn’t catch. There was a youthfulness to both of them that fleetingly replaced the sometimes hardened tiredness. It wasn’t hard to imagine what had taken place in the bedroom. You could always tell by Dana’s mood if she was getting some. The weariness returned as Dana came forward, crouching beside the sleeping child. Fox moved closer but still hung back, watching with curious concern, brow puckered, as Dana reached out to brush Ebony’s mass of tangled curls off her face. Then she drew in a deep breath. “Oh my God, Mulder,” she breathed. “Have a look at this.” Fox was kneeling beside her in a second, his face grim as he saw what she was referring to. I moved forward but then back again when I realised I was blocking the lamplight. “What is it?” I demanded. They both stood, Dana unconsciously brushing off her knees. She was shaking her head in stunned disbelief and Fox’s face was like thunder. “Shit,” he muttered. “What is it?” I repeated, growing more urgent. But they both ignored me, encased in their own world. “Mulder.” Dana reached to grab his hand. She bit down on her lip, troubled. “This doesn’t make sense. Maybe it’s not-” “Of course it is, Scully!” he shot back. “What else would it be?” “I’m just saying that we have to be careful,” Dana hissed back. They were standing close, their faces only inches apart. Fox turned on me, accusing. “Did you know about this?” he demanded. “About what??” I was frustrated, infuriated. Why did Fox hate me so much? How was it that I was always the one in the wrong? And why wouldn’t he damn well just stop blaming me for everything that went wrong in his life! Christ... “The implant,” Fox said thickly. “Implant,” I echoed, at a loss. My anger faded a little. I was tired of these arguments and accusations. “Ebony has a scar, what looks like an implant at the base of her neck,” Dana said quietly. “Like mine. The one that caused my cancer.” Oh God. I’d heard about that - about Dana’s abduction, her cancer, her near-death, remission, the chip... Dana had told me bits and pieces and Astrid had filled in the gaps. But what was the connection between that and Ebony, Astrid, Josh or I? Nothing made sense. From what Dana had said, her cancer had been brought about by some shadow government, part of a huge, worldwide conspiracy, galactic. The Genesis Project, the Macfarlane Corporation; they’d only been a small operation, a private venture. There’d been no connection to anything Dana had described. And yet, if there really was an implant in Ebony’s neck, if there was a connection between her and the greater, secret causes, between my own birth and these causes... Where did we all fit in? - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - I couldn’t sleep. Mulder couldn’t either, at first, but he’d finally dropped off half an hour or so ago, leaving me to toss and turn alone. I just couldn’t stop thinking about the night’s revelation, the possibilities... It was when my bedside clock ticked over to 2:00 that I gave up. Jacqueline had left just before midnight and it had only been two hours of trying to sleep, but it had seemed like an eternity. I checked on Erin but she’d been fed just before Mulder and I headed to bed and was sleeping soundly. I was almost disappointed - something as simple and natural as nursing her would have been a welcome distraction to my buzzing mind. I almost tripped over Mulder’s sneakers in the darkness and kicked them aside, cursing quietly. I heard a faint clacking sound and headed out into the kitchen curiously. I discovered Astrid sitting at the kitchen table with my laptop, typing madly away. “Hey, sweetie,” I said softly. I glanced across at the couch but the TV was off and Ebony appeared to be fast asleep. Somehow she’d slept through the afternoon and evening, oblivious to the heated conversations and whispered accusations. I returned my gaze to Astrid as I moved around behind her, studying the laptop screen. “What are you doing?” “Programming assignment,” she said briefly. It disturbed me that she was so often too adult these days. At times like this I missed her childishness, the eager enthusiasm with which she normally greeted the world. “Why aren’t you in bed?” I asked softly. She shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Too weirded out.” She glanced back at me. “Like you.” “Wanna talk about it?” “Do you?” I considered the question honestly. “Not really. I think I’m sick of talking about it.” “You and Daddy and Duckie have talked about it a lot,” Astrid observed, a little pouty. “How come Josh and I don’t get asked?” “You really want to get involved in this?” I wondered aloud. She considered my question as I had considered hers. “Yes,” she said definately. “I do. Because we’re part of this family, too. We’re old enough to make our own choices in the matter.” “I wish you weren’t,” I said softly, staring at her unhappily. “I wish you didn’t understand what was going on, so it wouldn’t hurt you both so much.” “We’re okay,” she shrugged. “But you’re not,” I protested, feeling the guilt as if somehow I had brought this on the family. “We are,” she insisted. “Really.” I stared at her, curious as to this turnabout. Who had talked her into acceptance of this? “What’s going on, Astrid?” I wondered. She chewed her lip pensively, beginning to squirm a little. “You’ll get mad at Daddy,” she said reluctantly. From the returned childishness I knew this was a struggle for her. She always went like that when she was nervous. Mad at Mulder? It took me a few moments to piece it together. Mulder had been the one who had talked Astrid into coming to dinner and lifted her spirits. “What did he say to you?” I asked curiously. More wiggling. “He said that Ebony wasn’t going to stay here,” she admitted. I glanced over at Ebony on the couch, an unconscious reflex. “He promised you that, did he?” I asked slowly as I returned my gaze to her. I reached out to play with her mussed, still-braided hair. She nodded slowly, reluctant. “He didn’t want to, but I made him. You aren’t mad, are you, Mommy? Please don’t be mad at him. It’s my fault.” It took me a while to get past the numbness. I felt strangely detatched. It wasn’t that the news was such a shock, but simply that it was far too late at night after such a long day to be able to process the emotions. “No, I’m not mad,” I said, feeling a little uncertain even as I spoke the words. “Do you want her to stay?” Astrid wouldn’t even look at me, but had instead turned back to her programming, aimlessly moving the cursor around the screen. “I want to find her a good home,” I answered, careful of my wording. Astrid swivelled sharply to look at me, then turned back again. “I see,” she said guardedly. She tapped out a line of incomprensible code, then immediately deleted it again. “You’ve forgotten tomorrow, haven’t you?” “Tomorrow?” I queried. I couldn’t even think what day of the week it was, let alone the exact date. “What’s to- Oh, God,” I suddenly realised. It was Josh’s birthday. How could we have so completely forgotten that? “He didn’t want to say anything,” Astrid admitted, troubled. “I thought you’d remember, but you didn’t.” “I’m sorry,” I said helplessly. I tried to remember what we’d planned for Josh’s birthday. He had negated the suggestion of a birthday party with friends from school, saying he wanted just a family dinner. Thank God for that, at least. We could order his favourite takeout... we’d have to find time to buy a cake tomorrow. Presents, at least, had been bought several weeks ago, though they still sat in our wardrobe, unwrapped. “He knows we’ve forgotten?” I asked guiltily. She half-shrugged. “He’s not sure. But he thinks so. I won’t tell him that I had to remind you. Maybe he won’t guess.” I shook my head slowly. Josh would guess. Josh would know. He always did, didn’t he? “You’re right,” she agreed quietly. She was typing rapidly, albeit one-handed, the other hand drumming the tabletop. “You should get some sleep, Astrid,” I said softly. Now typing with both hands, her speed was incredible, her fingers never faltering. Her gaze on the screen was intense. “I just want to finish this.” “Can’t you do it tomorrow?” She shook her head. “Want to get it finished tonight. I’ll only be another half hour.” I could well remember saying such things to my own parents, claiming to only need ten more minutes and still be working four hours later. I could also remember how wrecked I’d been, particularly after several late nights in a row. “You’ll be tired for school, Astrid.” I reached out to squeeze her shoulder as she yawned despite herself. “Come on, I’ll tuck you into bed.” She hesitated for a second, then tapped a few keys, waiting for her file to save before closing the laptop and leaving it in sleep mode. I tickled her as she climbed back under her rumpled covers and she giggled quietly, telling me about the program she was writing, what her friends were doing. I was glad that she was still allowing me to treat her like the eight-year-old she was. That happened less and less often these days. Somehow I’d always thought we could give them a life where they could be children, playing children’s games, not forced into adulthood like Jacqueline had been, like they would have been if they’d grown up in the compound. But we hadn’t prevented that from happening - they were becoming informed, thinking adults already, too soon. But could we have done anything to let them longer appreciate childhood? Maybe we could have. Maybe the lives Mulder and I led forced them to an adulthood in no less way than an unbringing like Jacqui’s would have been. I didn’t even want to consider the terrible irony of it - we’d thought we were saving them but we’d only brought them to the same fate. Returning to bed, my mind was even more alive with uncertainty than ever. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - Her mom was worried; it didn’t take a genius to figure that one out. Too many past events had led me to an intimate knowledge of Margaret Scully’s expressions of anxiety and concern. She had Josh on her lap as he carefully and patiently unwrapped birthday presents from her. It wasn’t often that Josh allowed himself to be held like that, like a child, but I think he sensed in Margaret a need to play the role of grandmother as ordinarily as possible. Still, she was concerned, and I couldn’t really blame her for it. Like myself, she seemed to have difficulty tolerating Jacqueline’s presence, and add to that Ebony huddled at the table... well, it was a lot to deal with. We were all lacking energy, it seemed. Scully was sitting beside me, slouched casually, wearing a green knit sweater, her eyes on Josh, a tired, tense yet wistful smile on her lips. I couldn’t blame her for the tense weariness, even if she was trying her damndest to keep cheerful for Josh’s sake. We’d had a difficult day. We’d spent all day chasing up all information we could find on the creator of the website, tracking down webhosting information being all the more difficult due to the fact that it was a free webspace server and only cryptic information was supplied. With assistance from the computer-crime department we’d managed to derive a short list of suspects and done some more digging, spending most of the afternoon in Wheaton visiting the moderator of the website and mailing list, who by day was the curator of the local Natural History Museum. He had been an elder of the local chapter, he’d admitted, but had left the chuch, dissatisfied with the message pushed. Founding the website, he had over one hundred members and up to two hundred visitors a week to whom he preached what he passionately called ‘the importance of the sacrifice of our human form’. He denied the crimes but freely admitted that when the time truly came he would encourage others to, like himself, give up their earthly existence. I thanked him and we left, but returning two minutes later for a casefile we’d accidently left behind, discovered the man unconscious on the floor, barely breathing. I’d assumed at first that it was poison, a suicide attempt, but Scully, managing to revive him, told me to call an ambulance; the man was having a heart attack. By the time he’d been loaded into an ambulance the building had attracted quite a crowd, museum visitors including a class of schoolchildren, two research assistants and the janitor. “Mister Pittson’ll be okay, right?” the latter asked anxiously. The crowd had dispersed once the ambulance siren faded into the distance and Scully and I had stood there feeling a little anti-climactic, something that somehow resulted in us sniping at each other non-stop for the rest of the afternoon. We checked through the guy’s desk while we were there - more out of curiosity than actually expecting to find something incriminating and, just as expected, found nothing out of place in the impeccably clean office. We headed out to interview the two museum assistants. The ten minutes before we’d headed home had been spent in a cake shop down the road as Scully picked out a birthday cake for Josh. A relatively productive day, I mused, staring as the cake itself was laid on the table before Josh, who had climbed back onto his own chair. But something unnerving, as though we’d discovered something we shouldn’t have known and weren’t aware of what it was. I could tell Scully felt it too, although right now she was trying hard to throw off all her concerns just for this evening, for Josh’s sake. Trying, not quite succeeding. I was trying myself, but I couldn’t manage it either. Work was on my mind, as was too often the case these days. Margaret was also unable to relax in the situation, although for different reasons, I knew. Jacqueline seemed distracted, almost depressed. And I could see in Josh’s eyes that he knew exactly what was going on. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - Astrid was trying to help me light the candles. Ebony flinched a little each time a match was lit and the flame flared with a hiss. Mom led the singing and Astrid joined in eagerly. I reached out to hug Josh around his waist as he blew out the candles, ruffling his hair fondly. Glancing around the table, I saw Mulder’s tired, forced smile, the uncertainty behind Astrid’s cheerful beam, the listless way Ebony was tearing up her paper napkin, the weariness behind Jacqueline’s keen gaze, the barely-hidden awkwardness with which Mom was helping Josh cut the cake. I summoned up as genuine a smile as I could and bent over to kiss Josh on the cheek. “Happy birthday, sweetie.” We owed it to him. That was what had kept me going through the evening, kept me smiling. We’d treated Josh so badly - Astrid, too, and we owed it at least to help him enjoy his birthday. After all, you only turn six once. But it was anything but easy. Both Mulder and Jacqui had seemed distracted all evening and I wondered if Mulder was still irritated at me, somehow, after the day’s events. Erin had been sleeping in her crib most of the evening and she woke as we were settling down with coffee and cake, Josh tipping out a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle he’d been given and starting to put it together on the coffee table with the help of Mom, Mulder, Astrid and Jacqui. Ebony, having refused cake, was sitting and watching them from a distance. I was in the middle of changing Erin’s diaper when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I jumped and turned to face Jacqueline. I didn’t like how she could creep up on me like that. Such catlike stealth seemed unnatural. “What’s going on out there?” she asked bluntly, arms folded. “I’m trying to give Josh a happy birthday, that’s all,” I said shortly, turning back to the task. “I can see you’re trying. And your mom is, even if doesn’t really want me there, or Ebony. But what’s up with Fox? Are you guys fighting again?” “No, we’re not.” “Then why are you both so tense? Is it the case you’re working on?” “A little,” I admitted, pulling the jumpsuit back on over Erin’s diaper. “I’m worried about you two,” Jacqui said abruptly. “You’re pulling away from each other. You’ve been doing that for a while, pulling away when you hit problems. That’s what’s making everything so complicated.” “This Ebony thing hasn’t helped either,” I snapped the words out, unable to contain my frustration any longer. “It’s Ebony and it’s you who are complicating everything so much. Because of all of this we’ve got Astrid feeling neglected and Josh who’s trying to not mind and Mulder and I are getting so stressed out we’re snapping at each other over everything. And Mom just doesn’t know where she fits in with you around.” “I never meant to -” Jacqui began, but I interrupted her. I couldn’t stop myself. “Of course you never *meant* to. You never do. But you’ve got to stop interfering, Jacqui. You cause more problems between Mulder and I than you fix. You’ve got to learn to mind your own business.” “I only wanted to-” Again, I swept her protest away. I was too angry to hold back out of sympathy any more. I just couldn’t put up with Jacqueline any more. “You’re only eighteen, Jacqui! You’re no expert in love, or in life! You’re only a child, not in any position to offer advice.” I stopped to draw a breath, expecting her to launch another protest. If it were Mulder she was arguing in, she would have already lost her temper and be shouting back at him. But she was silent. I felt a little guilty, my anger fading. “I don’t think you even really know what you’re doing, Jacqui,” I said, quieter. “You think you can explain and define and fix everything, but you can’t.” “I just want to see you guys happy, that’s all.” She wouldn’t look up at me, but her voice was breaking. “I know that’s what you want, but it’s not your job. Boundaries, Jacqui - we’ve got to draw some.” “I want to be part of the kids’ lives, of your lives... I just want to get things right again, Dana. Just let me help you get things right and then I won’t interfere any more, I promise. Trust me.” She looked at me pleadingly and I hated myself as I answered, softly, but very firmly, “I can’t.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - JACQUELINE POV - Well, thank you very much for believing in me. My first reaction was sheer indignation, anger at the unfairness of it all. But despite the emotions, I could see the truth of what she was saying and it shook me to my very core. She was right. I didn’t know everything. I couldn’t do everything. Far from it. I’d been so focused, so confident in myself, and now I’d just made such an enormous mess of absolutely everything. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I guess I just didn’t realise what I was getting myself into. I was just... trying to help. I guess I was trying too hard.” My mind was still reeling with the realisation of it all. How could I be so dense, so unaware of my own enormous faults? I’d been driven by my ego, my over-confidence, and now... Now, I felt as if the floor had collapsed from beneath me, completely lost, unsupported, unguided... It took me a few seconds to realise I was crying, warm tears dripping down my cheeks. “Jacqui...” Dana, baby now on her hip, stared at me, then looked away, perturbed. I couldn’t tell if she was still angry or guilty over my tears. I wiped my tears away on my sleeve, feeling ridiculous but unable to stop myself from crying. “I’m sorry,” Dana said quietly. She offered me the box of tissues and I grabbed a handful, trying to feel like less of a mess. “It’s not your fault,” I corrected her. “You’re totally right. I just never saw it. And... God, I’ve messed everything up, Dana. Everything.” She began cautiously, “What’s happened between Mulder and I-” “Not just you and Fox. Graham, and work, too.” For the first time I was looking at my life and seeing how fragmented and fragile it was, how much I’d taken for granted. How could I ever had thought I had it under control? I laid eyes on Erin, still on Dana’s hip, sucking on her own hand. I’d had my successes - maybe if I’d experienced failure earlier on I would have realised how fallible I was. “I lost a baby at work earlier today.” My eyes still on Erin, I saw Dana’s grip on the infant tighten, become more possessive. “What happened?” “The mother went into early labor - she was only six and a half months along. The baby was absolutely tiny, underdeveloped lungs and heart and... but I thought we could save her, maybe.” “This was the critical case on Saturday?” Dana asked slowly. I nodded. “There was nothing I could have done... nothing anybody could have done. But I still feel like I should have saved her, that I should have known how.” “Nobody knows everything.” “But what am I doing messing around with this stuff if I don’t know everything?” I demanded. I was getting emotional, desperate for somebody to just tell me what to do, give me a comforting hug. “You’re giving people a chance they wouldn’t otherwise get,” Dana said quietly. She kissed Erin’s head gently, hugging her child against her. “That’s a precious gift.” She was right, wasn’t she? I was doing what I was trying - I was helping people. But I wasn’t always succeeding. People had to fail sometimes. It was just that I was failing in everything at once, everything was falling apart... “You told me once that you were afraid I was getting in over my head with Graham,” I recalled. I looked at her, scared. “Do you still think that?” Because I couldn’t tell anymore. I didn’t trust my own thoughts. “Do you love him?” “I don’t know,” I confessed, helpless. “Do I? What’s love? I don’t know, Dana. I just don’t know...” “You always come to me with your problems, Jacqui,” she said slowly. “Do you ever go to him?” “He wouldn’t understand,” I protested. “He doesn’t know.” “Have you even tried talking to him?” “No,” I admitted. “And you still haven’t told him the truth?” “No,” I answered again, miserable. God, how did I end up engaged to a man without knowing whether I really loved him or not? Without really knowing what love *was*? What had I thought I was doing? “If you want to stay with him, you’re going to have to tell him.” “I know.” I watched as Dana put Erin back in the crib. The baby bounced up and down on her behind, giggling. “What are we going to do about Ebony?” Dana asked suddenly, turning back. “I don’t know,” I said honestly, surprised that she was asking my opinion, trusting me to such an extent. “I just can’t get through to the kid,” I admitted, recalling the hours I’d spent that day trying to communicate with her. “She’s just a little ball of pain.” Dana drew a deep breath, tapping her nails on the edge of the crib. “We need somebody to mind her tomorrow night,” she said slowly. “Josh and Astrid’s school is putting on a drama and music night and we’ve promised the kids we’ll be there. It’s important.” I understood why they couldn’t take Ebony along, but - “I was planning on going,” I objected. “Mulder and I owe Astrid and Josh so much, Jacqui. We both have to be there. You’re the only one who-” I got her point. Already I’d started putting myself ahead of Dana and Fox in the kids’ lives again. “I’ve still got the things I bought for Astrid and Josh,” I admitted. How long ago had that been? It seemed like forever. “I’ll get them out of storage, give Ebony a real bed for the night.” I don’t know why, after she’d been living at Fox and Dana’s for days now, I assumed I’d care for her at my own place. Maybe subconsciously I was just accepting that, in the end, there was only one way this whole situation could be resolved. Dana and I had both been hoping the other would make the sacrifice and keep Ebony, or at least take responsibility for her until her past and family were traced, and it seemed that I would be the one making the sacrifice. But with my life so utterly messed up, was that really such a good idea? - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - There was a change in the atmosphere once everybody had left, a change for the better. With Jacqueline’s departure I felt both relief and doubt; all along I’d known that the only possible option for Ebony’s future was with Jacqueline, although now I wasn’t so certain that she’d be able to handle the child. Her false sense of confidence had fooled me, too. Mom hung around for another half hour or so after Jacqui left, helping the kids still with the puzzle, before giving up. I walked her to her car, silently apologising for the evening, clinging to her as she hugged me. Why was it that anything social we got ourselves involved in was so disasterous? It was only when we finished cleaning up and put the kids to bed that I felt truly comfortable in my own home. I headed into our bedroom, stopping in the doorway when I found Mulder sitting cross-legged on the bed with the casefile open in front of him and wide-eyed Erin on his lap, watching him turning the pages one-handedly, his other hand around her. He was unaware of my presence and I treasured the sweet innocence of the scene, the way he talked softly to her, kissing her downy head. Maybe Jacqui wasn’t the only blind one, I thought. Too often I ignored the wonderful things around me. “You’re beautiful, Mulder,” I said softly. He looked up at me, surprised, and smiled gently. “So are you.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - She was still wearing the green knitted sweater, although now the sleeves were rolled up, and her hair was up in a hairclip. My beautiful Scully. There was a happiness in her eyes that had been lacking all evening and I wondered what had brought it now. Whatever it was, it was infectious. I pulled the typed pages from Erin’s destructive grasp and closed the folder, laying aside work for the time being, beckoning Scully closer. She climbed up beside me, lying on her stomach to tickle Erin under her chin before rolling onto her side, propped up on one arm. “I love you. Do I tell you that enough?” “Enough to keep my ego afloat,” I grinned. “Any new thoughts?” I shrugged. “We missed something important today.” “You feel that way too?” she asked, curious. I nodded and she considered it. “We’ll have to check in at the hospital tomorrow morning and see how Mr Pittson is.” “You’re sure it was a heartattack? It couldn’t have been -” “Succinylcholine?” she asked, referring to the drug that had killed all earlier victims. “No, I don’t think so.” I wasn’t sure how she could be so certain - from what she’d explained, a large enough dose of this stuff simply induced cardiac arrest. “I didn’t find any needle marks,” she added, as if in answer to my silent query. “Nor any other evidence.” She drew herself upright and leaned against me. “That was a lousy night, wasn’t it?” “Yeah, it was,” I agreed. She sighed. “I know we disappointed Josh.” “He’ll be fine.” “I know he’ll be fine with it.” Another sigh. “He’s always fine with it. But he won’t be happy.” “He wouldn’t be asleep yet. We could go talk to him.” She shook her head. “No, let him sleep. We’ll make it up to him another time.” She yawned. “Are you tired? I am.” I glanced at my watch. “It’s only quarter to eleven.” Another yawn. She snuggled closer against me. “I know. I wonder how Jacqui’s going.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - JACQUELINE POV - The light was still on in his living room, I could see from the street. Nevertheless, I took my time getting up to his apartment, dragging my feet, taking the stairs instead of the elevator, even though he was on the fifth floor. I knocked, rather than letting myself in with my key. He answered the door in the worn sweats he always wore to bed. The TV was on. “I thought you’d be home earlier. How was the party?” I half-shrugged, hanging up my coat. Somehow, I knew I’d just burst into tears if I so much as I looked at his face. “You look tired. Tough day?” “I guess,” I said carefully. I moved into the kitchen, opening his fridge, my eyes ranging over the content without interest before closing it again. “Well, are you going to tell me about it or do I have to guess?” I kicked off my shoes and climbed onto the couch, drawing my feet under me, staring at the TV. Frasier was on. “I need to tell you some things,” I said finally. My voice was unsteady and I felt nauseous, tired, on the verge of tears. It was the most awful sensation. “It’s serious?” He was staring at me appraisingly. I nodded and he dropped down on the carpeted floor in front of me, taking my hands in his. “Okay, tell me.” I pulled my hands away, feeling guilty and flustered, at his readiness to listen, perhaps. “I can’t -” I protested weakly, sudden cowardice overtaking me. “Yes, you can,” he said firmly. He made no attempt to grab my hands again but instead sat back on his heels. I leaned back into the couch, closing my eyes as another wave of nervous nausea hit me. I wanted to cry so, so badly. Why was I falling apart like this? “You look like you need a drink,” he observed. “I’ll have a glass of water.” “That’s not what I meant.” “Just water,” I insisted. It wasn’t that either of us ever drank to excess, but I needed to be clearheaded now. Alcohol wouldn’t help. Though Grae might be hitting it once he heard me out. He did that, sometimes. He rose and returned with a glass of water. I took only a sip and then just held it in my hands. The glass was cold. He settled down on the other couch, facing me across the coffee table. “All right, I’m listening.” There was a slightly hard edge to his voice, as if he already knew he would be angry at my news. It only further weakened my resolve to tell him. “Go on,” he prompted, sensing my reluctance. “Get it over with.” “I haven’t been completely honest with you about Josh and Astrid, or my past...” I unwillingly launched into my story about the kids, about Ebony, about the illegal cloning project my parents had run, ommitting mention of my own unnatural conception or the deaths of my parents. Genetics wasn’t his field so I simplified the science of the project, telling him about my arguments with Dana and Fox, and Dana’s suggestions that I adopt Ebony myself if her guardians couldn’t be found. I finally finished and sat back, staring into my still-full glass. He had listened to me, frowning, eyes on the coffee table. “What do you think about that?” he asked, his tone neutral, giving nothing away. I felt irrationally afraid of him. “I don’t know,” I whispered. I felt utterly pitiful, scared. “I don’t think I could manage it, not with my schedule. And I don’t know how to get through to her... But, then, I’ve got just as much chance as anybody else. And Dana and Fox can’t keep her. They’re stretched to the limits with their three...” “So you’re the only option,” he summarised. He tapped on the coffee table, still frowning. “Just say then, that you decide to go ahead. Would this be you adopting her, or ...us adopting her?” “I don’t understand you,” I lied. “Don’t play stupid with me, Jacqui. I know you’re smarter than that.” He sounded annoyed, as if he was trying to be patient with me. “We’re not married yet, and lately, to be honest, I’ve been wondering whether you want to go through with it or not. Because if you don’t, then we’re both wasting our time.” “Of course I want to marry you,” I said shakily, suddenly very aware of the heavy ring on my finger as I stared at it. I had grown accustomed to wearing it so quickly that I’d stopped noticing the weight, despite how enormous it was. “Are you sure? Because you’re still such a big mystery to me, Jacqui. I feel like I should know more about the woman I’m going to marry. Even after what you told me... I still feel like you’re hiding things from me. You’ll never tell me what’s going on in your head.” “There’s so much going on,” I admitted, pleadingly. “I just... I feel like I’ve taken too much on and I’m so scared to take on Ebony as well because it could just another big mistake. I’ve made so many mistakes...” “Tell me,” he urged gently. He moved around the coffee table to drop at my feet like he had been before, reaching to wrap his arms around my waist, thumbs rubbing my sides. Even in my state of near-tears I felt a small thrill. “Is it work? Did you have a problem with -” “The baby, the one that was born on Saturday night... We lost it,” I admitted. “I didn’t think she’d make it but I held out hope because we can do so much and I just thought... Oh, God...” And I was sobbing, again, loud choking sobs and I knew how terribly weak I must look and I knew Graham would think less of me because he disliked weakness, but I couldn’t stop myself. But he surprised me. He tugged me closer and I slid off the couch into his arms, let him rock me like a child as I cried. “That’s a big load to bear, isn’t it, Jacqui?” he asked gently. He kissed my forehead, nuzzling against me. “You’re not angry?” I asked pathetically. “Why would I be angry about that?” he challenged. “Because I’m... weak.” “True, I’ve never seen you so vulnerable before,” he mused soberly, “But if that’s what it takes to let me past that damn tough exterior of yours, I’m willing to deal with a few moments of human weakness. We’ve known each other for almost a year, and still I didn’t really know you, I don’t. But I’m learning now, and I’m glad, because I want to know you so badly, know your mind...” “I’m sorry,” I muttered guiltily, clinging close to him. “I didn’t mean to keep you at such a distance, emotionally... I didn’t even realise.” “You’re a wonderfully intelligent individual, my darling,” he said quietly. “But I have absolutely no self-awareness,” I finished unhappily. “God, if only somebody had told me sooner...” “What would that have changed?” “I wouldn’t have made such a mess of things. I wouldn’t have thought that I was handling things...” “We all get in over our heads, sometimes,” he said simply. “It’s part of growing up. You’re strong enough to dig yourself out again.” I’d never seen myself as stupid before, but as I clung to him there, crying softly, letting him comfort me and be the strong one, I saw myself for the first time as inferior, not superior. Well, maybe not inferior, but just... human. A weak creature who didn’t know all the answers and had no right playing God. “I always wanted to have somebody like Dana has Fox,” I murmured. “I’ve just been too blind to see what’s right in front of me.” “Is that an apology for taking me for granted?” “Yeah, I think so,” I murmured. “In that case,” he kissed my forehead, then my cheek, then my lips. “Apology is accepted.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - “Mommy?” He spoke so quietly that he must have known I’d be awake to hear him. Mulder, asleep beside me, didn’t stir. “Yes, sweetie?” “Nobody was happy tonight, were they?” “That’s not your fault, Josh.” I pulled myself more upright and patted the bed beside me. He climbed up, nestling in against me. “It’s our fault, really. Daddy and I are sorry.” “I know you are,” he said quietly, adding wistfully, “I just thought everybody would be happy, just for tonight. But Grandma doesn’t like Duckie and Duckie was unhappy about the baby, and you and Daddy -” “We tried, Joshie, we really did.” I felt terrible and hugged him even tighter against me. “I know.” “We owe you and Astrid a lot. But once this whole thing with Ebony is over, -” “There’ll be something else,” he finished quietly. “There always is.” “Oh, Josh -” I was heartbroken by the truth of his statement. He interrupted me again. “We understand that, we do.” “You understand,” I corrected him, “But that doesn’t make it right.” “There’s nothing you can do about it,” he shrugged. “We could always quit,” Mulder spoke up in the darkness. I was stunned by the offhanded suggestion, because I could tell he genuinely meant it. “I don’t want you to quit,” Josh said decisively. “You only want that because you know what we want,” I corrected. “No, I want you to keep working,” he insisted. “Somebody needs to keep all those EBEs in line, right?” Mulder asked dryly. I shot him an annoyed glance. “You do important work,” Josh explained quietly. “You’re needed.” “We’re needed here, too, aren’t we?” I queried. Josh didn’t answer. Instead, he snuggled closer to me. “Can I sleep in here tonight?” I was surprised, but pulled back the covers for him. “Sure, sweetie.” He crawled in beside me, curling up into a ball. Was it possible that he was already, and yet only, six? He had changed only a little over the last four years - a time usually of immense change. Grown a little stronger, more self-sufficient, even wiser, too often adult and yet sometimes, like now, letting himself be our little boy. I kissed his forehead. “‘Night, Joshie.” Rolling onto my back, I glanced across at Mulder, whose head lay on the pillow only a few inches from my own. “‘Night, Mulder.” He looked grim, his eyes dark. I could tell he was in a low mood. But his expression softened, became wistful rather than self-condemning. It was a long road we were travelling. “Goodnight, Scully.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - JACQUELINE POV - I’d never slept in that late before. Usually I was up at six, six-thirty at the latest, but today it was almost eight when I discovered myself lying in Grae’s arms. I was surprised I hadn’t woken up earlier - he was snoring loudly, right into my ear. But I didn’t really mind. I lay there, cozy in the pajamas I kept at his place and under the soft covers. There was an infinite comfortability about everything Graham owned - plush carpets and furniture, the sort you just sank down into. In a way, it contrasted with his character, but, then, he was a mass of contradictions. He abhorred formalities but in many respects lived traditionally. He followed the cricked obsessively but refused to watch any other sports. With me he was lazy and unselfconscious but with others he was generally quiet, more well-mannered, sometimes even charming. He was usually laid-back but some things brought out his sharp edges. He was intolerant of the strangest things, had strong opinions that you never knew if or when he’d voice them, could be pedantic and rant and rave but could also be so tender and gentle. I could never be sure of how he would love me - sometimes he was slow and sensual, teasing, sometimes rougher, more intense. Sometimes he snapped at me and I wondered if he even liked me. He grunted awake, withdrawing the arms that had been encircling me and stretching. “You want some breakfast?” I nodded, drawing myself upright to watch him as he moved around the bedroom, running his hands through his hair. “You’re getting greyer by the day,” I teased mildly as he stared in the mirror. He shrugged. “I’m living up to my name.” Should I really be with this man, I wondered? I’d never really paid attention to the vast age difference before, and now I looked at the situation through Dana’s eyes. She’d been concerned about that from the beginning, I knew, but it hadn’t mattered to me. But now... He was seventeen years older than me, almost twice my age. I had to admit it; that was a gap. Could I afford to say it didn’t matter? He jumped onto the bed, crawling up to me and resting his chin on my knees. “Why so pensive?” “Just thinking,” I hedged, reaching out to run my fingers through the dark, greying hair. God, he was so *old*... And, yet, he was only thirty-six, younger than Dana and Fox. What was it that made him seem so worn, so hardened? And why had that attracted me so much? A brilliant mind, but such a weary one. I wondered how much I had to do with that. He leaned into kiss me gently, but then pulled back as if sensing some hesitation on my behalf. “About?” “Ebony,” I lied. He waited for more and I added, “About minding her tonight, seeing how things go.” “Uh huh.” He drew back, resting on his heels, putting distance between us. “You love being with Astrid and Josh and Erin,” I began, hoping to persuade him. I needed him not just to let me do this, but want me to. “You’re great with kids.” “That’s being an uncle, not a father,” he pointed out. “I know where you’re going with this Jacqui, but I need more time to make a choice like that. We’ve never talked about kids.” But I’ve thought about it, I thought miserably. I’ve obsessed over it, wanted it badly since the beginning. And Ebony.. “She wouldn’t sleep at all,” I whispered shakily, “but she finally did, and I held her. That was such a wonderful feeling, being able to comfort her. But she still needs so much comfort. She’s a hurt little girl and I want to help her so badly. What if we could make her life better?” He stared at me unhappily, then climbed off the bed, pacing. “I don’t know what you expect me to say, Jacqui. I just don’t think I can do that, take in a child like that. Sure, I want kids, but not like *that*.” “Then tell me what else we can do with her,” I pleaded. “Give me another option.” He threw his arms up in despair. “I don’t know! I want to help you, Jacqui, but I can’t pull rabbits out of hats.” I let out a shuddery sigh, resting my head on my knees. Already this day was a terrible one. “I’m sorry,” I muttered. “Don’t be. It’s my fault,” he murmured, repentant. He had climbed back on the bed and was caressing my face tenderly. “I just want to be kept in the picture, honey. You’re so far away from me as it is...” I let him kiss me, let myself be pulled into his arms possessively, held tightly. For a few moments I felt nothing but relief and comfort, but then an awareness dawned on me. “What’s the time?” I pushed him away from me a little so I could see the alarm clock, then completely pulled myself out of his arms. “I’ve gotta get over to Fox and Dana’s,” I realised, hurriedly sorting through the few clothes I kept in his wardrobe. “I promised I’d be over there by eight to mind Ebony and Erin...” I was heading into the bathroom but he barred the doorway. “Do you have to go?” he demanded. “They need me there,” I protested. “You need to be at work.” “This is a sensitive issue, Grae. They can’t just leave Ebony with a sitter.” “One of them can’t stay home from work?” “No,” I answered impatiently, ducking under one of his arms. But he caught me by the wrist in a sharp movement. “They’re needed at work at the moment,” I finished slowly, suddenly afraid. “I don’t mind being there. It’s good to take a break from work, you know? “ His grip still didn’t loosen. “I know what I’m doing,” I promised him. “But you don’t, Jacqui,” he said softly. “I thought we agreed that last night.” He released my wrist but I made no attempt to flee. “You spend more time with Mulder and Dana than you do with me, did you realise that?” he wondered. “I don’t mean to,” I admitted honestly. I stared at him curiously. “You’re jealous of them,” I realised aloud. I stared at him, shocked. He shook his head in annoyance. “You’re such a kid, Jacqui. You’re just so goddamn ignorant sometimes...” And with that, he left the bedroom. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - For once, we actually took the time to get a warrant to search Pittson’s house, although our search for any sort of information or links to other suspects was fruitless. We’d dropped in to visit Pittson early that morning but he was still unconscious, and we got a phone call just after midday saying that the man had suffered another heartattack and died. I was suspicious enough to order an autopsy, which kept Scully occupied til evening. That left me responsible for taking the kids up to school an hour before the performing arts festival so Astrid could have her makeup done. I got home at five and relieved Jacqueline, who said she still needed to get some things out of storage and stock her pantry, telling me to just drop Ebony off on our way to school. It was just past six when we all turned up at her apartment; me with Ebony, who still clutched the stuffed stegasaurus Josh had loaned her, Josh whose hand was the only one she’d hold, Astrid who insisted on being there because we were running late and she didn’t want to be even later, and Erin, who couldn’t be left alone in the car. Astrid dashed off as soon as we walked into the auditorium. Kids were running off and on the stage, disappearing backstage, squealing excitedly. One of the school bands was warming up in a corner. Although Astrid and Josh had both proved quite talented musically, neither of them had stuck with an instrument long enough to fit into a band. I left Josh with Erin and headed outside, away from the racket, to call Scully. I could tell from the snippy way she answered “Scully” that I’d interrupted the autopsy. “Still going?” “Just finishing up.” She always got pissed off when I interrupted like that, especially when - “This was a waste of time, Mulder. The guy died of a heartattack, just like I told you.” “I just wanted to be certain.” I shrugged apologetically, altough I knew she couldn’t see me. “Yeah, I know,” she relented. “Me too.” Heavy sigh. “Listen, I’ve just got to finish things up here and then I’ll be on my way. Save me a seat if I’m late, ‘kay?” I went back inside, discovering Astrid, now sans coat and shoes, with Josh and Erin. Both Scully and I had tried to talk her into letting us leave the baby with Jacqueline for the night, but Astrid had insisted that she wanted Erin there, and these days we were willing to give Astrid virtually anything she wanted, we felt so guilty. One of Josh’s classmates came to drag him away, announcing that the teacher wanted him, and Astrid tagged along after them. Drama being a compulsory subject in the school, a ‘vent’ for the school’s largely creative student population, this was the third year now that we’d been here to watch Astrid in some sort of group drama. Josh always managed to avoid being on stage - he was always the props master or helped with lighting or sound or backstage. We weren’t sure exactly what he was doing this year, nor were we Astrid. All rehearsals had taken part during school time and Scully and I had simply not found the time to ask them. But we’d find out soon enough, I guessed, shifting Erin on my lap. She bleated; she was starting to get irritable now that Josh and Astrid had left. Lacking anything else to occupy me for the hour before the evening began, I took Erin for a walk through the school’s maze of hallways. On returning to the auditorium which was now gradually filling up, I was accosted by Josh’s teacher, Josh trailing behind her. “Mr Mulder, it’s so nice to see you here!” It was strange to see her. It had been, what, six months since the shootout at the school? I had heard little of her since, only occasional comments from Josh that they had a substitute while Miss Crabtree was on leave. It struck me for the first time how quickly we’d all recovered from that trauma - and how unnatural such a quick recovery really was. I wondered what it would be like to live such a sheltered life that it took six months to recover psychologically from such an event. Such an ordinary, sheltered life. She cooed over Erin for a few minutes, then Josh, glancing at his new watch, a birthday present from Scully and I, nudged her, and she rushed off again. “My class is on first,” he explained, climbing up onto the seat beside me, tucking his feet under him. “They’re starting soon.” Erin was fussing again and Josh produced a cookie which she eagerly grabbed and sucked on, an action which soon resulted in drool down the front of her overalls. I tried to clean her up but she bleated in complaint and I gave up. As the lights in the auditorium started to dim and the curtains went up it was all I could do to hold Erin still on my lap, she was bouncing and kicking so excitedly. “I haven’t missed anything, have I?” Scully whispered, clearing the seat beside me of the diaperbag and Josh’s jacket. I shook my head, passing Erin into Scully’s arms. She gave the baby a smile and shook her head when Erin offered her the now-soggy cookie. I was surprised by how refreshed she looked - usually having to be on her feet for an autopsy left her tired and grouchy. Looking at her sparkling eyes now, you wouldn’t have guessed she’d spent the last few hours digging around in a dead man’s chest. “Josh’s class are just about to start,” I announced quietly. She nodded. For a class of mostly seven-year-olds, Josh’s class’s play was surprisingly complex. Listening to the dialogue, I thought it was quite a pity that it was being performed by such young actors. It had potential to be witty, but the kids’ stilted delivery of the lines detracted from it enormously. I wondered if it was an adapted Rosencrantz and Guildenstern piece and put the question to Josh when the curtains fell, but he shook his head. A series of only moderately interesting performances came next; another class, then a painfully long medley by the school band, then another class and a movement-to-music group. I was half-asleep by the time the curtain rolled up on the last act before interval, and the loud, clear voice that resonated through the auditorium made me jump in my seat. It took a while to place which Shakespeare it came from, but I soon recognised it as a speech from the first act of Othello. What followed was an abridged version of the tragedy, and I was immensely surprised by the acting abilties of the nine and ten year olds. It was the character of Iago that stole the show, though, and Scully smiled when I commented as such to her as the curtains fell and the house lights came on to signal the intermission. “I didn’t realise she was that good,” she remarked. She seemed amused. “You do realise that that was Astrid up there, don’t you?” I stared at her. “What, as Iago?” She nodded, grinning. “I probably wouldn’t have recognised her myself, if she hadn’t been dropping hints all through breakfast. I don’t know how much longer she could have stood it without telling us. She wanted to, badly.” I left Scully with Erin and headed off with Josh to get some coffee. Astrid, face still caked with thick stage makeup, bounded up to us, hugging me tightly. “Did you see me?” she demanded. “Is Mommy here?” “Yeah, she is.” I balanced the two cups of coffee carefully. “She’s in there with E-” But she was gone already. Josh trailed behind me, packet of M&Ms in hand, as I returned to where we’d been sitting. Astrid was talking ninety-miles-an-hour to Scully, but cut off when she saw Josh, diving for the pack of M&Ms and hugging him in an affectionate headlock. “I told you they’d mess up the lines, Joshie,” she scolded playfully. He half-shrugged. “I didn’t notice any problems with anybody in your class, Astrid,” Scully commented curiously. “Not in my class, in Joshie’s. I told him that the script would be too hard - that it would really be better for my class, but he wanted them to use it. But I toldya it wouldn’t work, Josh, cos the rest of the kids in your class aren’t as smart as you. Even most of the kids in *my* class aren’t as smart as you, though they could have done it okay.” My eyes darted from Astrid, who, with hands on hips, had on her best “I told you so” expression, absurd with the theatrical makeup, to Josh, who was chewing on his knuckles, Erin-style, his eyes on the floor. “What are you talking about, Astrid?” Scully asked patiently. She was having to hold the cup of coffee away from Erin’s reach and I downed the rest of mine so that I could take the baby from her arms. “The play Josh wrote,” Astrid said impatiently. “It could have been done well - better, I mean. Mommy, do you think Erin liked my group? I didn’t scare her, did I? I wanted to be Emilia but Mr Thackery said I should be Iago because Sarah wanted to play Emilia and...” It was the longest opportunity Astrid had found to talk to us recently and she took advantage of the twenty-minute intermission, chatting nonstop to Scully. My thoughts and gaze were on Josh, who squirmed as he sat cross-legged in the contured plastic chair. He looked utterly miserable. Why? The failure of his play? But it hadn’t been a complete failure - the audience had laughed. But, then, the audience always laughed. Parents loved seeing their children up on stage. It was as the lights were being flashed to signal the end of intermission that he half-climbed onto Scully’s lap, whispering something to her. She glanced up at me, then at Erin, who had been growing increasingly difficult to keep quiet, then she nodded, beckoning to me. “Josh wants to go home; he’s tired. I don’t know how much longer Erin will last, either.” “We can’t leave!” Astrid broke in, dismayed. She always seemed to hear our more private discussions, whether she was intentionally listening or not. “Kerri’s still got to do her monologue! She’s not til second-last act.” Who was Kerri? I wondered. I didn’t remember having heard the name before. But then, Astrid made friends with anybody. “You okay to stay here til the end, Mulder?” Already Scully was rising and gathering together belongings, aware of the still-flashing lights. “I’ll take Josh and Erin home, maybe take a bubblebath.” She took Erin from my arms and surprised me by kissing me firmly on the lips. “Don’t fall asleep, ‘kay?” “I’ll try not to,” I grinned. I pulled car keys from my pocket. “Erin’s babyseat is in my car. Swap?” She rolled her eyes and my grin grew. She always complained about having to readjust the seat when driving after me. “Promise you’ll wait up for us?” I put on a pouty face. She gave me an enigmatic smile. “Maybe.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - JACQUELINE POV - Grae was late - he’d agreed to get home by five, but didn’t appear til almost an hour after Fox had dropped Ebony off. He greeted me cheerfully enough, and I didn’t know if he’d gotten over his frustration of the morning or not. Ebony he tried to joke with, but it was a lost cause. She only stared at him with that grave, mournful expression. I’d brought piles of food, anything that she might imaginably eat, but all she would touch were the cheeseballs, which she snuck one by one, only when she thought I wasn’t looking. Dana had warned me against letting her watch TV, and when she refused all my offers of boardgames I’d played with the kids on odd occasions, Graham and I settled down playing chess together, Ebony watching from the safe distance of a barstool. I wasn’t really paying attention to the game, which explained why Grae was able to beat me after only twenty moves. The two of us moved over to the piano, something Grae admitted he’d ordered over the internet one night when he was less than sober, with the intention of teaching me how to play. Only rarely had I touched it since it had turned up on my doorstep - it was only when he was in one of his rare generous moods that we’d sit side by side as he taught me how to play. He’d never been this relaxed, though - he was laughing at me when I made mistakes, racing ahead of myself, overconfident, our fingers playfully fighting over the keys. Ebony’s presence had me tense, but it seemed to have done the opposite to him, and I let myself forget my problems, let some of his playfulness rub off on me as we sat and played. “Heart and Soul, now!” I announced, giggling like I was Astrid. We’d progessed beyond that song many lessons ago, but there was something so bouncy about the tune that made it fun to play together. To my surprise, Graham turned to gesture to Ebony. “Hey, Ebs, you wanna join us?” It was the epitome of nonchalance, but I wondered if perhaps he was just as nervous as I was about Ebony’s silent presence. She shook her head ever-so-slightly, rocking back and forth a little on the barstool. I could see that she was getting agitated with the attention but Grae persevered. “Sure?” A more substantial nod this time. “Coz this is your last chance, ever -” He grinned. “Just teasing. Anytime you want, you just butt in.” Another nod, her arms wrapped around herself, tightening. “This kid’s a tough nut to crack,” he muttered, turning back to face the piano. “Okay, from the top...” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - Josh sat in the bath, telling me about his play, while I bathed Erin. Usually we only filled a small tub for her, but she loved the bubbles and although Astrid usually insisted on showers, Josh still loved baths and kept a close eye on Erin as she sat wobbily, unassisted, half-lost in the neck high bubbles. After Josh climbed out I drained most of the bathwater, leaving just enough for Erin to splash around in, playing with her floating bath toys. As always, she launched a complaint when I pulled her out to dry her, kicking and squealing even when Josh produced the rubber tortise she liked, squeaking it for her. “Babies are kinda funny,” Josh mused, watching as I towelled her dry. “Erin never used to like baths, not when she was really little, anyhow.” “I think she just likes the bubbles,” I grinned at him. “That’s what you like about them, isn’t it?” He shrugged. “I like water. It’s kind of like swimming.” ”Why didn’t you tell us you wrote the play, Josh?” I asked curiously. He shrugged again. “Didn’t want to show off.” He chewed on his lower lip. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like it or not.” “We did,” I assured him gently. “I know you must have been disappointed it wasn’t done better, but it was very clever. You’re very talented, Joshie.” I’d expected his reaction would be another shy shrug, but he turned sharply away, ears pricked up. “Did you hear that?” “Hear what?” “Shh!” he shushed me. Turning back, his eyes were wide. “There’s somebody out there.” “Is it Daddy and Astrid?” I moved over to the window, looking for their car parked in the street below, but the street was empty. “Somebody else.” Josh had paled and looked frightened. I wished we hadn’t closed the bathroom door to keep the warmth in. I picked up the half-dressed baby and passed her into his arms firmly. “I’m sure it’s nothing, sweetie. You stay in here with Erin and I’ll go check, okay?” He stepped backward until he was against the wall, nodding. I eased the door open and peeked out. Already my heart was pounding and I wondered why it was that I’d believed Josh so unhesitatingly. But then, Josh had never been the sort of boy who saw monsters in the dark. If he’d heard something, it wouldn’t just have been his imagination. Then, without question, I heard the front door close, just a gently click as if somebody were trying not to be heard. I reached for my weapon, preparing to confront the intruder, when I realised something - I’d tossed it in my bureau drawer earlier. I cursed silently, wondering how far I could peer around the corner without being seen. Then, all final doubts were dispelled. I heard a rattle as the kitchen tables was collided with, and an odd, gravelly sort of voice. “Don’t be afraid... The Lord sees you where you hide...” I was back in the bathroom as quickly and quietly as I could, shooting the bolt in the lock. Josh was staring at me with wide, horrified eyes, still gripping Erin tightly, not seeming to notice as she chewed on his thumb. “In the clothes basket,” I whispered rapidly, pulling the lid off the woven basket and the dirty clothes out. I took Erin from Josh and steadied the basket as he climbed in obediently. Thank God they’re both so tiny, was my only thought as I passed Erin into his waiting arms. “Whatever you do, don’t move until I say so, okay? Nothing until I call you by name. And just try to keep Erin quiet, okay?” Somehow, that wasn’t my biggest problem. I had absolute faith in Josh’s ability to care for the baby - he was sometimes the only one who could stop her from crying. She was always content in his arms. He nodded, his expression frightened but tense, alert. I carefully placed the lid back on, at an angle so that a little light and air could filter through. I could hear a door eased open and closed again - either the kids room or Mulders and mine. Soon he’d try the bathroom door, and of course he’d force it open if he could... If only Astrid hadn’t insisted on staying to watch her friend, I though as I stared around the bathroom, trying to think of something to use as a weapon, something to get me safely out of the bathroom again and into my bedroom where my weapon was. If Josh’s play hadn’t been more so unsuccessful and he’d been more willing to stick around and we’d all come home together - God, the window! I stared at it, my mind ticking over. It would be a tight fit, but I could make it. But how could I get into my bedroom window? We were on the third floor... “Joshie, I’m going to go out the window and along the ledge into my bedroom, all right? If I can get into my bedroom and to my weapon we’ll be be okay.” I jammed a chair against the door, the only moveable piece of furniture in the bathroom, then shoved a pile of towels along the crack under the door, hoping to wedge it closed and increase difficulty in opening it. Then I tackled the window, unbolting it and easing it open. There was no grill on the window, at least, but one glance down at the street below was more than terrifying. I drew a deep breath and straddled the windowsill, awkwardly dropping down onto the ledge below. It was there for purely decoration, only a brick’s width all around, with nothing for a handhold except the wall itself. A drainpipe ran down the wall beside the bathroom window and I gripped it, cautious of the loose fittings holding it against the wall, as I got my balance on the ledge, reluctantly reducing my grip to only one hand as I eased my way along the ledge, excruciating step after step. “Balance... balance...” I muttered to myself. Panicky thoughts kept flitting through my head and I tried to block them out, tried to focus and yet, at the same time, keep my mind blank, the defense I had against the fear. But I couldn’t stop myself from being afraid. I shuffled along the last distance and craned my neck to glance in the bedroom window. The window was open a few inches; I’d opened it only twenty minutes ago, to let the breeze in. My heart was pounding madly and my mind was stuck in a groove, repeating the same word endlessly. “Hurryhurryhurry..” I slid my fingers under the edge of the sill and tugged, but it was stiff. Readjusting my footing, I reached to grab the sill with my other hand and gave it a yank, but the impact that ran through my body jolted me badly enough that my left foot slipped, and then my right. I grabbed for anything and caught onto the lower windowsill with one hand as I fell, my body jarring as I stopped, clawing at the brick with my other and the tips of my toes searching frantically for crevices. “Oh God,” I muttered, agonised, as I heard a plaintive cry through the open bathroom window. Erin... I pulled myself up in an enormous effort, hoisting myself over the edge and through the window, scraping my stomach and forearms and landing in a tangle on the carpeted floor, expecting to be faced with a gun-wielding madman. But in that brief second as I gazed around, pulling myself up, I realised that the room was empty. I dashed for the dresser, pulling open the top drawers. My weapon, sitting on top of a pile of socks, seemed too good to be true. I fumbled as I pulled it out of the holster, then flicked off the safety, moving stealthily toward the door as I did so. Pulling the door open I was poised to shoot, but, doing a rapid visual scan, the apartment seemed unoccupied. What’s more, the bathroom door was still shut. I ran to it, grabbing the handle and trying it. Still locked, I realised with sinking relief. Then, seeing a shadow overtaking my own on the bathroom door, I swung around, dodging to avoid the intruder as he lunged at me, a ready syringe in hand. We both regained balance, tensed to attack as we stared at each other. He was maybe mid-fifties, the rough, pitted face of a laborer, startlingly green eyes, pure and clear in the etched, sunken skin. I’d seen him before, I knew, but couldn’t think where or when. “There’s a place for you in Heaven,” he said softly. “A place just for you.” My weapon was trained on him, ready to shoot, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull the trigger. He must have seen that in my eyes, because he turned, syringe falling from his hand as he fled. “Stop!” I shouted, chasing after, dodging the rolling hypodermic. He left the apartment and skidded on the linoleum floor of the hallway, clattering down the stairs in huge leaps. I followed him down, but by the time I was out through the front doors and reached the kerb he was gone from sight. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - JACQUELINE POV - I’d only gotten the bed out of storage that afternoon, along with the never-used linen sets I’d bought for Astrid and Josh. I wasn’t sure, even now, why I had kept it myself. It was as if I was holding onto the past I’d had with Josh and Astrid, holding out hope for a future of the same sort, even though I now knew it would never be. I was about to put on the pink bedsheets when I reconsidered the stereotypical assumption and instead grabbed a pillow case from each set, taking them out to the living room. I’d only been gone five minutes, but Ebony had moved from the barstool she’d sat on all night and was now kneeling beside at the coffee table. Grae was on the opposite side, watching with disguised interest as she curiously handled a rectangular box. It was a jigsaw puzzle, I realised, though as unlike the one Josh had gotten only the night before as could be. This was a children’s puzzle, a pink box with a large picture of a fluffy white kitten and some flowers on the cover, only sixty-four pieces. “It won’t open itself, you know,” Grae prompted her. Ebony glanced up at him uncertainly, then back at the box in her hands. I moved to crouch down beside the little girl. “Open the box, sweetie...” I reached to take the box from her but Grae put a hand on my arm. “She can do it herself,” he said mildly. I felt irrationally annoyed at him. What did he think this was, some sort of psychology exercise? I sat back on my haunches reluctantly, watching as Ebony laid the box on the table and, glancing up at Graham for reassurance, lifted the cover off. She then began to lift the pieces out and lay them on the coffeetable, which Graham unceremoniously cleared off to give her more space, dumping my various medical journals on the floor. “Alrighty, Ebs,” he announced, “I reckon we should start with the corner pieces. Whaddya think?” She nodded, still putting pieces out on the glass-topped table, all face up and unobscured. Then she began methodically to categorise the pieces, the pieces of blue sky together, the pieces of white kitten fur together, it’s green eyes, the orange-yellow of the flowers. I still held the pillow cases, but suddenly the question of whether she wanted pink sheets or dinosaur sheets seemed irrelevant. What’s more, *I* felt irrelevant, jealous that it was Ebony, not I, receiving Graham’s absolute attention, that he never treated me with such gentle patience. I sat, feeling at an absolute loss. How did I become the least important character in my own story? “Jacqui.” I looked up to find Grae beckoning to me. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if, even now, I knew what I was doing. Then I scooted over to nuzzle against him, letting him put his arm around me. Better. I watched and listened as he helped her pick out the corner pieces, piecing together the edges of the picture. I considered my world, my future. Was this it? - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - The lock had been smashed. Even in my rush to get inside I could see that. The place was crawling with police officers, a scene that chilled me to my marrow. Never again had I wanted to see Scully’s apartment lit by those flashing red and blue lights. She had Erin on her hip and held Josh close to her as she talked to the interviewing officer, and I took a moment to let go of the breath I’d been holding, checking over them all visually as I did. No tears, no blood, not that I could see, anyhow. I approached her slowly, aware of the feelings of guilt that were now only just surfacing. She glanced across sharply as if sensing my presence, giving me a brief nod before turning back to the officer. I approached cautiously. “How’re you doing?” I asked softly. “I’m fine,” she said tightly, not even looking at me. I kneeled down beside Josh, who had been clinging to Scully. “You okay, buddy?” He nodded. “I think Mommy’s mad at you,” he said unhappily. “Why would she be mad at me?” I wondered aloud. Josh half-shrugged. “When are the police leaving?” “Soon,” I reassured him. “It must have been pretty scary, huh? You and Erin are okay?” He nodded. “She just thought we were playing hide and seek or something.” He smothered a yawn. “Sleepy, hey, kiddo?” I teased, trying to lighten the situation. He yawned again. It was only eight-thirty now, his usual bedtime, but he’d been up late last night, I remembered. The pajamas he was wearing were new, a birthday present from Margaret, and the sleeves were too long on him, the cuffs rolled up but his hands and feet still lost. He looked shrunken in them. I hoisted him up onto my shoulders and took him into his bedroom, tucking him into bed. Astrid, who had been unnaturally silent since we’d gotten Scully’s phonecall halfway through her friend’s monologue, sat on the edge of her own bed, swinging her feet, chewing both thumbnails, preoccupied. I left them both there and returned to the living room. Scully, still holding Erin, was trying to nudge a large pot-plant against the now-closed door. “They’re gone?” She nodded, not turning around. “I couldn’t give them much to work with.” “Did you recognise him?” “I’d seen him before,” she said shortly. She gave up on manouvering the heavy object and brushed past me. “Scully -” I caught at her arm. “Hold on a second! I can see you’re shaken up badly and I’m sorry I wasn’t here, but -” “I’m going to put Erin down for the night,” she answered, eyes not meeting mine. I stared after her as she disappeared into our bedroom, wondering what I’d done wrong. She didn’t really blame me for not coming home when she did, did she? How was I meant to have known this would happen? I let her have a few moments and finished positioning the pot-plant - presumably in place until we could get a locksmith in to put on a new lock. The bathroom was a mess and I heaped the dirty clothes into the basket, putting the lid in place firmly, letting out the last of the bathwater and hanging up the damp towels. Finally entering our bedroom, it was with undeniable apprehension of what awaited me. Scully was pissed, I knew, but I wasn’t sure why and it only added to my concern. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, the first-aid kit open beside her, awkwardly winding a bandage around her right hand. “What happened?” I asked. “He was going to shoot me full of a neuromuscular blocking drug, Mulder,” she snapped. “Enough succinylcholine to kill three of four people instantaneously, at full-strength. That’s what happened.” “I meant, to your hand,” I corrected neutrally. I could tell she was upset more than angry and kept my own anger under control. “I scraped it on the bricks. Mulder, do you know how much I never, *ever* wanted this to happen? Josh was scared out of his wits! Thank God Erin’s too young to know what was -” “What did I do wrong?” I demanded. I could tell from her expression that she didn’t really have an answer and tried to calm myself down, empathise. “I know how scared you were, I do, but assigning blame isn’t going to change anything-” “Mulder, we’re talking about Erin, here! You and I, we can look after ourselves. Even Josh and Astrid can look after themselves. But not Erin, Mulder... Not our baby.” She looked at me pleadingly, her eyes swimming with tears. “That’s too much.” She let out a terrible shuddery sigh. “I understand -” “No, you don’t,” she protested. She sank back down onto the edge of the bed and catching the end of the bandage again, wincing as she pulled it tighter. My anger faded, leaving only tired compassion. I moved closer, kneeling in front of her and easing her left hand away so I could study the injury to her right, gently unwinding the twisted bandage. The heel of her hand was badly grazed and, flipping her hand over, I discovered that parts of her knuckles had also been skinned. “You can’t understand because you weren’t here,” she continued quietly. “You didn’t have to leave her with only Josh to protect her and climb out a damn window, all the time knowing that if you did something wrong or took too long it could mean her getting found...” “You’re right, I don’t,” I agreed quietly, clasping my two hands over her injured hand, careful to be gentle. “But I’m here now, Scully, right? And you know that I would never have let you go home alone if I’d known this was going to happen to you. You know that.” She nodded, looking away from me. She always did that when she was near tears, as if avoiding my gaze would let her hold them off just a second longer. “Hey, look at me,” I whispered, reaching to tilt her chin so she was facing me. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here, you know that. But we still don’t even know what he’s after, Scully. How he found out where we lived.” I sighed, needing her to forgive me and let me comfort her. “It’s too late now for anything but regrets.” She shook her head with a wistful, tearful smile. “No regrets. That’s a motto I adopted the same time I adopted you, Mulder. No regrets.” I laughed softly, just a chuckle. “That’s my girl.” I reached up to caress her cheek lightly. “I’m here now, ‘kay? Will you let me be here now?” There was a small tin of antiseptic cream in the first-aid kit and I smeared some on my fingertips, gently rubbing over the raw skin. She hissed, involuntarily flinching away a little, but I held on firmly. I rebandaged the hand and brought her fingertips to my lips, kissing them lightly. “You going to be okay?” “They’re just grazes, Mulder.” “That’s not what I meant,” I corrected gently. “Yeah, I will.” She drew a deep breath, pulling away from me and beginning to pace. “I’m just a little tense, still, you know?” “That’s understandable.” I took her place on the bed, watching as she headed over to the crib, glancing down at Erin, then over to the window, playing with the curtains which blew gently in the breeze. “He’s not going to come back tonight, is he?” she asked, turning suddenly. I shook my head, although I wasn’t certain in my heart. “No, you’ve scared him off. For the time being, anyway.” “So you think he’ll make another attempt?” I shrugged. “Why do you think he came after you?” She flung her arms up. “I don’t know! I know he’s connected to this case, Mulder, because of what he said, and I know I’ve seen him before, but... until we find out who he is, I don’t think we’ll know why he’s doing these things, why he targeted me.” “Did you give the police a description?” She picked up her pace, restless, rattling off the description she’d given the officers. I frowned, trying to get a visual image. She was frowning too, her pacing slowing again, fingers fidgeting. “I remember him wearing some sort of uniform, but not a real uniform, not like police, more like doctor’s scrubs, that sort of thing... God, I just can’t think of it...” “Not somebody you saw there on Sunday, maybe?” I offered. “EMTs?” She shook her head and I shrugged. “It’ll come back to you, right?” “I guess,” she agreed reluctantly. She shrugged tiredly and I moved to rub her shoulders. She let out a quiet groan, rolling her neck. “Take care of me tonight, Mulder,” she murmured. “I need it.” “Sure,” I agreed, letting her roll out of my grip to turn to face me, sliding her arms around me in a hug. I kissed her lightly on the forehead. “It’s been another long day, hasn’t it?” I mused quietly, kissing her forehead again. But she seemed unsatisfied, her fingers on my face, the bandage grazing my cheek, her mouth seeking mine, warm, eager kisses. “Very long,” she murmured, pulling away. She bowed her head, nuzzling under my chin with a sigh, again in a comfortable embrace. She yawned. “I’m sleepy,” she said, unnecessarily. Another yawn. “Very sleepy.” I disentangled her and gave her a gentle nudge. “You get ready for bed, ‘kay?” “You going to give me a nice, long massage when I get back?” she murmured, her fingers back on my cheek. There was an encouragingly playful note in her tone. “You bet I will,” I agreed readily. I was also going to stay up through the night, just in case the intruder returned. But we both knew that without my having to say anything. She smiled, reaching on tiptoes to peck me on the cheek, then sliding out of my grip and heading out of the bedroom. Erin was whimpering for attention in her crib and I lifted her out and above my head. She gurgled, delighted, as I played airplane with her, my grip on her unceasingly firm as I lifted her higher and swooped her down again, spinning oh-so-slowly. Already, her laugh made me think of Scully, and it exhilarated me to be able to hold her and love her and make her laugh, all so fearlessly. How could I ever have been afraid of this child? Certainly, she was still vulnerable, still a weakness in our defense, but she, like Astrid, was so full of life, always with a gurgle and gummy grin. It made me want to spoil her madly, give my precious daughter everything she ever wanted, just like I’d always wanted to give Scully all. “Mulder?” Scully stood in the doorway in pajamas, toothbrush in hand, mouth full of toothpaste, her expression one of realised triumphance. “The janitor,” she said simply. “The janitor?” I echoed. She nodded, about to speak, then turned, reappearing a minute later sans toothbrush, drying her face. “The janitor at the Natural History Museum where Pittson worked,” she explained. “That’s who broke in. Our killer.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - I felt elated at the realisation, a sweeping sense of relief that his identification would lead to his capture, and Mulder and I would be able to sleep through the night. Technically, I knew that we could have called the bureau and requested protection until the killer were apprehended, but I didn’t want that sort of intrusion, further disruption in the home. Not that I was trying to pretend it hadn’t happened or that the threat was anything but very real, but with Mulder there, I felt as safe as I would have with an entire crew of FBI staked out in the living room. I rang the Wheaton authorities and they came up with a name, Elijah Trainor, telling me that they’d just sent off a squad car to his house. They promised me that I’d get called back as soon as they’d picked Trainor up and I returned to pacing around the bedroom as I waited, colliding with Mulder as he re-entered the bedroom. “I’ve got a name,” I said succinctly. “Trainor. Elijah-like-the-prophet Trainor. They’ve sent a car ‘round to his house, should be there any minute.” “He must have followed us from the hospital,” Mulder mused. “Or Pittson’s house. He must live nearby.” “But why did he come after me? Or did he expect to find both of us here?” Mulder shook his head. “No, he would have followed you home from the school. He came after you.” That chilled me; the thought that he’d been waiting just for the opportunity to catch me alone while we’d been in the auditorium watching the plays and listening to Astrid’s merry chatter. But why hadn’t he come after me while I was autopsying Pittson? I’d been alone in the autopsy bay. Unless... My eyes lit on my bible, sitting on my bedside table. Was that why the killer had needed to take me from my own home, so he could leave my own bible at the scene of the crime, opened at the page in Corinthians? “Because of that -” I pointed. “My bible.” I was surprised at how calm I sounded. My heart had picked up an odd sort of rhythm - not exactly racing, but almost stumbling along. “The clue he leaves is always the verse outlined, in his victim’s bible...” He nodded, touching my elbow lightly. “Come here, I want to show you something.” He led me out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kids’ room, pushing aside the curtain to Josh’s bed. Squished together in the reduced space - we really should get Josh to clear all the enormous books off the bed, I thought - were Josh and Astrid, both fast asleep. Astrid’s arm was flung over Josh as if comforting him and their forms were almost spooned. An odd couple, Josh in his grow-into pajamas and Astrid still in cord jeans, sweater and heavy theatre makeup. She still had her shoes on but I didn’t move to remove them for her; I didn’t want to wake either of them. “I guess tonight really did shake Josh up,” I murmured. Despite what I’d yelled at Mulder before, I hadn’t really believed Josh was anything but a little upset by what had happened. He’d shown such remarkable ability to bear-up after traumas in the past... and yet, I had to admit, there always seemed to be consequences, psychological marrings... “Must have been almost as bad for him as it was for you,” Mulder said softly. “He had responsibility, too.” “He handled it well.” “He always does.” I tugged at his arm. “Come on. You owe me a backrub.” Erin was hungry for a feed so I settled for a footrub, resting my feet in Mulder’s lap as I sat propped up on the pillows, baby in arms. Usually I had a hundred other things on my mind when breastfeeding, but right then I took the time to watch and enjoy the sensations. Erin’s tiny hands, grasping my breast, were kneading the flesh as she sucked. It reminded me of when, as a little girl, I’d watched our cat suckling her kittens. One in particular, who had been adopted by our neighbour once weaned, had been bossy, nudging the other kittens out of the way to get more milk. Thank God, at least, that Erin was the only one. She had hiccups from guzzling too fast - she always did - and Mulder paced with her for a while, rubbing her back gently. I sat on the bed, hugging my knees, content to just watch him, enjoying the affection I felt as I saw his tender affection. It was the same surge of affection I’d felt earlier, that shattered my anger and gave me cravings for some of that tender love. They rang back as he was putting her down to sleep. I’d almost forgotten the events of the evening, they already seemed so distant, and I felt the apprehensive knot in my stomach reforming as I answered. “Uh, Agent Scully, we seem to be having some difficulty in locating the suspect...” the police chief admitted apologetically. “We’re trying our damndest to find out where else he could be but we’ve got nothing yet. He hasn’t returned here for the evening and there doesn’t seem much we can do else just wait around for him to return...” I agreed half-heartedly, making rounds of the apartment to close and lock all windows as he explained to me the division of manpower and hours. I also checked every closet and under every bed. Just precaution. Mulder had only just gotten Erin to sleep and I woke her up again as I lifted her out of the crib, holding her in one arm, ignoring her whimpers, as I grabbed my weapon. Mulder doubledchecked all the windows once I’d passed on the message and unholstered his own gun, tossing it down on the coffeetable. I switched on the TV, settling down and trying to get Erin back to sleep again as Mulder headed into the kitchen to make coffee. I surprised him, I think, when he returned and I brushed aside the coffee mug he offered, instead kissing him. I was still tired, God knows, but the desire I had for gentle intimacy was too strong to be ignored. Pulling away, he righted the coffee mug I’d unbalanced and took Erin from my arms, buckling her into the babyseat. For once, she didn’t so much as stir. Then he returned to me on the couch, hands interlinked with mine, pressing his forehead against mine. “We should be on our guards,” he murmured. He looked a little troubled, but he managed to smile, as though suddenly amused. “This danger has put you in a make-out mood, has it, Scully?” “Danger makes the heart grow fonder,” I misquoted playfully, dipping my head to kiss him. I couldn’t explain my unfathomable lack of fear, the sudden desire for cuddles and kisses and the absolute faith in Mulder as my protector. Maybe it *was* the danger that had sparked something within me, reawakening old yearnings. Or maybe, subconsciously, I was just trying to put the evening’s events behind me, distract myself. Whatever it was, it was working. Our kisses eventually petered out into gentle stroking, tickling. The adrenalin which had been rushing through my veins, a danger-high, also faded and I allowed Mulder to pull me more into his arms, letting out a yawn, stretching my muscles, deliciously comfortable in his grip. I rolled over to fit more snugly and he began to gently massage my back, his hands slipping under my pajama shirt and running over the bare skin, gently kneading. My eyelids growing heavier and heavier, I yawned again and again. “Wake me up when you get drowsy,” I murmured. “I will,” he promised, and I believed him. I let my eyes close, enjoying the delicious soft numbness of near-sleep. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - JACQUELINE POV - It was a piece one of Graham’s friends had composed in his youth, and yet, it was one of the most beautiful pieces I’d ever heard. He always played it, but he’d never let me try to play myself, despite how much I begged and buttered him up. Until, that night, when he and I sat side by side and he slid his hands over mine, guiding me to the right keys with surprising gentleness. I got it quickly enough - lucky for me, I knew, because it wouldn’t be long until he lost his temper again - and we’d played it through together several times. We’d moved back to the piano after Ebony had gotten involved in the puzzle. I would have liked to have stayed watching her, helping her, but Grae had pulled me away, kissing my neck, and plonked the two of us down side by side on the piano stool. I had been able to see that he had some idea of where he was going - I’d just wished that he’d share it with me. We had finished up playing the piece through for the third time and discovered Ebony, curled up on the couch, staring past us, at the piano. Again, Grae had offered for her to play with us, and again she’d refused. I’d taken the opportunity to offer her the choice of bedsheets and she’d stared at both pillowcases long and hard before shrugging, gazing up at me uncertainly. With unflinching patience Graham had talked to her, suggested maybe a combination of the two. Ebony had nodded, still uncertain, with what I thought was relief, maybe even eagerness. She’d followed me into the bedroom as I made up the bed, checking every step with her, and then we’d headed back out to the living room. I’d bought some ice-cream, caramel-fudge with choc flakes. Grae didn’t want any, he said, but then he sat there the whole time digging into mine. Ebony had sat there, mushing the icecream down with the back of her spoon, stirring it until it became a runny, melted mess which she carefully spooned into her mouth, leaning right over the bowl. After about half of it she’d suddenly stopped, pushed it away, and climbed off the chair, curling up on the couch again. She’d found the TV remote and flicked it on, finding cartoons. I remembered Dana’s warning, but figured ten minutes before bed wouldn’t harm her. And I was right; five minutes later she was fast asleep. Grae had moved to pick her up but I’d beaten him to it, carrying her into the spare room and tucking her in between the pink and dinosaur sheets. They clashed terribly, but she hadn’t seemed to have minded. That had been half past eight. It was almost midnight when I heard the song we’d been playing earlier again; a simpler but deliberate playing of it. I shook Grae awoke and crept out of the bedroom with him in tow, watching silently from the doorway as Ebony, frowning as she perched up on the piano stool, hit the keys one by one, very deliberately. She was utterly intent on it, I don’t think she saw either of us there, watching her. We returned to the bedroom, both of us a little excited, but also confused over the progress. Grae, pacing a little, had picked up a pen and was flicking the end so that the tip popped out, then withdrawing it again. He always did that when he was anxious or unable to articulate. I myself climbed back into bed, lying on my side on the pillows as I watched him, waiting for the inevitable. It could take an hour, sometimes, if he was really agitated, but he would come to me eventually. “You haven’t been able to trace her at all?” he asked abruptly. I shook my head. “Nope. Dana, Fox, their... friends” - that was the closest word I could find to describe Langly, Frohike and Byers - “have searched missing persons, birth and adoption records... Ebony Arden does not exist, according to all American states! Or Canadian authorities for that matter, or even Asia, Europe, the British government, Australia, New Zealand...” “Okay, I get it,” he interrupted impatiently. He began pacing again, then stopped, staring at me with hard eyes. “You really didn’t know Ebony existed? You raised Astrid and Josh, you were there when they were.. bred-” he spoke the word almost distastefully “-but you never knew Ebony existed?” I shook my head. “I promise I didn’t.” “That’s kinda hard to swallow, Jacqui.” He didn’t exactly have the gift of holding back, Graham didn’t. “I know it is,” I agreed, feeling my hopes fall. He didn’t believe me, didn’t trust me. Why the hell did Ebony have to come into our lives? I could have kept on living the lie, and Graham wouldn’t have known. He would have kept trusting me, kept treating me like I was just an ordinary woman, kept loving me. That was all I wanted. “Even Dana and Fox... they don’t believe me about Ebony.” I gave a shuddery sigh, as the need to cry surged through me. “You’re not really Fox’s sister, or even half-sister, are you?” “No.” That had been Astrid’s lie. I’d already introduced Dana and Fox to Grae as longtime friends, but Astrid had somehow managed to change that to Fox’s younger sister, smoothing over inconsistencies with sunny smiles and half-shrugged comments about broken families. “When you seemed to believe that... it was a godsend,” I said honestly. He half-shrugged. “It was believeable. There’s quite a resemblance there.” Was there? I guessed he was right, although I’d never really thought of it myself. Oddly enough, Astrid seemed to grow more like Fox every day. Maybe it was because she copied some of his mannerisms, maybe it was the puppy-dog eyes. “Why did you keep lying to me?” It was a question I’d known was coming, but that didn’t ease the apprehension I felt at having to answer it. “I didn’t have the opportunity to tell you the truth,” I answered. “I thought maybe it wouldn’t matter. I guess I just got... tangled up in the lies.” And now I was just getting more entangled as I struggled to escape, more lies added to the web. Of course I’d had opportunities, I just hadn’t taken them. Of course I knew it mattered, I just hadn’t found the courage to put that into action. “I want the truth - the whole truth - from you, now. No more lies. No more equivocations.” He was still angry, but quietly, which almost made it worse. “Understood?” The whole truth. The truth about my age, my role in my parent’s deaths, my own origins... “I promise,” I lied. My heart felt like stone and I hated myself for the dishonestly, for the added weight to my burden. I wanted desperately to be able to unburden myself to him, to tell him everything, to beg his forgiveness, but I wasn’t brave enough. That would mean maybe risking him, risking my reputation, risking arrest for cold-blooded double murder, even if I’d only been fifteen at the time. I wasn’t brave enough to take those risks. I drew a deep breath, rubbing my forehead tiredly. “What about Ebony?” I tried to keep it offhand, but my heart was once again pounding relentlessly. “That’s a big ask.” “I know,” I acknowledged. “But if we can’t take her, what will happen to her?” He was at the window now, staring out. “How do we legally adopt a child who doesn’t legally exist?” he mused. “Do what Dana and Fox did, I guess.” “Forgery?” It was clear that I’d pressed a wrong button. “I don’t want to break the law, here. I’m not even a bloody legal citizin, only here on a working visa.” There was nothing to do but to sit silently, accepting his anger. He calmed down soon enough, as I’d known he would. “I don’t want this forced on me,” he said quietly. “I want kids, you know I do, but not adopting out of pity.” “Let’s just see, huh?” I pleaded. I knew this conversation would be ended tonight, a solution would be reached, and we wouldn’t ever discuss this again. That was how Grae worked; he weighed up the options and made his mind up, and that was it. I just wanted it to all end my way. “We’ll give it some time, and if it doesn’t work out..” He sighed heavily, as if knowing he was making a mistake. “Fine,” he agreed. He climbed on the bed toward me and drew me toward him, his arms around me in a big bear hug, laying a kiss on my hair in a tired sort of way. “I’m trusting you on this one, Jacqui. Just don’t let me down, okay?” “I won’t,” I promised. And that, I thought, was one promise I might be able to keep. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - We were up at the crack of dawn, waking the kids and dropping them off at Jacqueline’s. Well, technically, I’d been awake since three, when I took over watch from Mulder. I’d woken of my own accord - and wonder, if I hadn’t, if he would have let me simply sleep through the night - and found him wandering around in a rough loop through the living room and kitchen, one arm around Erin, a piece of leftover birthday cake in the other. He was breaking off tiny pieces of cake and feeding them to Erin. He was grinning, talking to her in incomprehensible baby language, chuckling quietly. It was a wonderful sight to behold. I’d alerted him to my presence eventually, taken Erin from his arms and sent him to lie down and catch some shuteye. He could have gone to the bedroom but chose the far less comfortable couch, stretching out and drawing the blanket over his lanky form. “Night, beautifuls,” he murmured, smiling at Erin and I, his eyes already clouded with sleep. He looked like a sleepy child himself, hair at all angles already, as if Erin had been pulling at it. It was endearing. He’d fallen asleep in two minutes and I’d ducked in to quickly check on the kids. They were both still on Josh’s bed, though now, each curled up on fetal position, facing away from each other. I’d tossed a blanket over the pair of them and returned to the living room, checking the potplant against the door. Erin had a dirty diaper, I‘d discovered, and I ended up changing her on a towel on the kitchen table, not willing to risk leaving the entrance to the apartment unguarded. Somehow, the hours before dawn hadn’t seemed as excruciatingly long as they once had; I sat with Erin, having time to play with her more than I ever did during the day, read her books, sang to her quietly. She was oblivious to the hour, but clearly pleased at the attention she was getting. So often it seemed that we could only give her the time it took to change diapers, and give feeds or baths or rock her to sleep. Mulder had woken when the rising sun touched his face and a quick discussion had led to a planning of the morning’s events. After quickly showering, he had rung Jacqueline, and I had gotten the kids up, getting them into their school uniforms and helping Astrid scrub the thick makeup off. The black eyeliner that had been used to draw ‘evil’ eyebrows was persistent, and even after frantic applications of soap and makeup remover and moisturiser it was still faintly visible. School bags packed, and a promise of breakfast at Jacqueline’s place - she’d assured us that there was plenty to eat - and we’d all headed there to drop the kids off. We reached Wheaton just before seven, dropping in at a small cafe for our own breakfast, the only place in town that seemed to be awake and functioning. Checking in at the police station, we teamed up with a local officer, who assured us that the police chief would meet us at Trainor’s house - the chief himself had been on surveillance of the house, watching for the janitor’s return. A talkative young man, Officer Trenton told us not only everything we needed to know, but spent the rest of the short cartrip describing to us his wife’s response at finding out the killer we were chasing had, in fact, lived across the street from them for four and a half years. “See how close I’ve been to this psycho the whole time?!” He pointed out his house as we pulled up behind the unmarked police car. “Unbelieveable.” The police chief’s car was there, but the man himself was not. Officer Trenton’s face filled with alarm when he discovered that the driver’s side door was slightly ajar. Mulder pulled the door open wide enough and reached in, holding a Stephen King book as he straightened up again, a crayon rainbow-coloured bookmark in the other, clearly the work of a child. “Looks like he was in a hurry,” he remarked. “Didn’t even have time to mark his place.” His tone had been dry but I could hear the concern in it, the mad thought processes working overtime beneath the calm facade. “Trainor appeared,” he deduced, glancing across at the house. “Tried to sneak past, into the house, maybe...” “I’ll go around back,” Trenton suggested quickly. “Be careful,” Mulder warned. Trenton nodded dismissively, drawing his weapon and running lightly along the drive and disappearing around the side of the house. Mulder and I took the front door to the house. It was locked but the hinges were weak and we kicked it in without too much difficulty. We were only in the front hall when we heard a shout - from Trenton, outside. We probably should have split up, or even both of us exit the house and go round back - we would have if we’d realised how much of a mess the house was. We headed instinctively toward where the back door should be, but the house, small as it was, was like a maze, always a wall where we needed a doorway, a closet where we needed a hallway. “Shit!” Mulder hissed, but I quietened him - I’d heard a voice outside, that was maybe coming through the small open window nearby. It was a voice I recognised immediately, a voice that sent chills down my spine. “I’ve watched you ‘n your pretty wife. I know you care about the planet, about God’s world. That pleases Him, to see people caring for His creations...” Our efforts to find our way out of the impossible maze doubled. When we burst out through the flywire screen door, Trenton and Trainor had disappeared. And Chief Robbins lay unconscious on the scraggly grass that passed for a back lawn, his head a bloody mess. “Go after Trainor," I told Mulder urgently. He nodded - he knew, thank God. Drawing his weapon, he broke into a run, toward Trenton’s house. I knelt down beside Robbins, checking for a pulse. He groaned at my touch and I ran my fingers lightly over his headwound, trying to assess the damage. Not as bad as it seemed - of course, that sort of wound always looked worse than it was. He’d been hit with some sort of blunt object, probably had a concussion but, at least, he was alive. “Don’t try to move, Sir,” I told him. “You’ll be okay, just don’t try to move.” I pulled out a cellphone as I spoke, my fingers finding the buttons and calling 911 without me needing to even look. The Chief was groaning, trying to draw himself upright, his hand fumbling at his side. “M-m-m-” was all he could get out. The blood, caked along his cheek and in the hollow of his left eye, was starting to go tacky. That on top of the dazed-out look in his eyes, I wasn’t surprised he was having physical difficulty in speaking. I had just put in an order for backup and ambulance when I finally realised what Robbins was trying to tell me - the hands desperately flailing were pointing to his side - more specifically, the empty holster on his belt. “Trainor took your gun?” I realised, a panicky flutter in my heart. Relieved, the Chief nodded, sinking back again. “An ambulance is on it’s way,” I told him quickly, rising. “You stay here, try to lie still. You’ve been hit pretty badly. I’ve got to go warn my partner.” Partner, husband, best friend, lover, doting father of a beautiful baby girl... I was in the middle of the street when the shot rang out. I doubled my speed, tugging open the front door of Trenton’s small but neat house, house that showed a woman’s touch. I don’t know why or how I knew that it had been a shot fired by Trainor at Mulder, not the other way around. Maybe the sheer, terrified certainty that Mulder was in danger was simply.. sheer terror. That even if Mulder had fired a shot and taken Trainor down, I still would have instinctively believed he was the one being harmed. I didn’t call out, too afraid that Trainor would hear me and run again, but instead made my way through the house, running through the same rooms several times before realising they all linked up. I cursed quietly, jumping over a potplant that had been knocked over - thinking of the potplant that had held our own front door closed all night - and following the dark smudges in the carpet up the stairs. It looked as if somebody had trodden in it, then been dragged up the stairs. And, thank God, the smudges were haphazard, as if the captive were resisting. Weapon drawn, I stopped on the landing. The hallway was a mess, all the doors to rooms flung wide open. I glanced in each one, but it was the room at the end of the hall, the master bedroom, where my search ended. If I’d thought the landing was mess, then this looked as if it’d been hit by a cyclone. My eyes ran frantically over the occupants of the room, taking everything in in a matter of seconds. Trenton, duct tape around mouth, eyes, feet, probably hands too - they were behind his back. He was on his feet but standing unsteadily, as if trying with every muscle not to move. Trainor was rifling through the bureau drawers, tossing out piece of clothing after piece of clothing, yelling in frustration as he did, demanding to know where Trenton had hidden his bible. And Trenton, blinded by the tape, was whimpering that he didn’t own one. The Chief’s gun was shoved in the waistband of Trainor’s scuffed blue workpants. And Mulder... Mulder was lying half-slumped in a wickerchair, his hand pressed against the blossoming red patch on his shirt in an attempt to stunt the flow, his eyes half-rolled back in his head, his breathing ragged. And God, was there blood, so much of it... “Freeze!” I shouted at Trainor. He turned around, slowly dropping the sweaters he held, and reached for his gun. “I said, freeze!” I shouted. My voice was so loud it echoed in my own ears almost painfully. I had to get to Mulder, get an ambulance. Where had the bullet hit? The upper chest. It hadn’t gone clean through the shoulder - I wasn’t that lucky. But it looked as if it had missed the heart, and he was still breathing, if not so easily... I stared into the eyes of Elijah Trainor, those brilliantly green eyes that were almost hypnotic. He was going to lunge at me, I knew before he did it, could tell that his calf muscles were tensing, could almost feel his rough hands around my wrists. “You’ve come to see that this is the way,” he said in that awful, awful voice, but with surprising gentleness. “You’re not afraid of God’s judgement, are you?” He took a step forward, I took a step back. Mulder. Mulder. Mulder... “Don’t move, sir!” I almost shouted the command. “Turn around and place your hands behind your back...” He turned, slowly, but I didn’t relax even the slightest. He put his hands at the small of his back, as if waiting for handcuffs, as if trying to lull me into a false sense of security. I made as if to put my weapon away, to draw my handcuffs, and that was his opportunity, I knew. He turned, made as to lunge, but my weapon was still pointed at him, unwavering, each tortured breath that Mulder drew both music to my ears, reassurance that he was still alive, but so absolutely terrible to suffer. “I said not to move!” “This is the only way to God, sister,” he said gently, his eyes meeting mine with surprising calmness, such a brilliant green that I’d never seen before. Then he lunged at me. Last time, looking into those eyes, I’d been unable to pull the trigger. This time I could. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - JACQUELINE POV - “Duckie!!” Astrid’s voice rang out, sing-song, excited. “We found something!” She and Josh were sorting through boxes of papers I’d found when I cleared out the room for Ebony. They were generally just notebooks of ideas I’d taken, observations I’d made, dating back to the days when I’d been all but prisoner in the compound, after the old facilities had been burnt. I’d been meaning to sort through them myself when I found the time, but Astrid had seemed eager, a change from the grouchy, tiredness of the morning. She’d been up late, of course, but both she and Josh had seemed strained, apprehensive of something - the aftereffects of the previous night’s trauma, I’d guessed. Dana and Fox had dropped them off dressed for school, but Astrid had put her foot down the second I suggested we get going or they’d be late, and Josh had gotten that near-tears look in his eyes. Somehow I didn’t think Dana or Fox would mind if they didn’t go, but I had been beginning to wonder if maybe it would have been a welcome distraction when, thankfully, they’d put themselves to this task. “What is it?” I glanced across at Ebony and Graham, sitting together at the piano as he played, before dropping down and sitting cross-legged beside Josh. He and Astrid had the notes spread out and I was surprised to see how much there was, stack and stacks of looseleaf papers and notebooks, even a few computer disks among them. “Blueprints,” Astrid announced, unscrolling a small roll of paper and stretching out her arms to hold it taut to show me. Technical drawings of what looked like medical equipment. Frowning curiously, I reached to take the paper from her, but Josh pushed something else into my hands. It was a page of what I immediately recognised as genetic codings. But how the hell had all these gotten mixed in with my own files? “Whose is this, Duckie?” Astrid asked curiously, holding out a small blue-bound diary. She opened it, flicking through. “It’s not your writing...” I knew even before I took it, opening to a page and tracing the small, contained cursive with my fingertip. “It’s Cate’s,” I said quietly. I had read through it once before, but so, so much had changed since then... And yet it still smelt like jasmine, as she always had, if only the faintest whiff of it. And I remembered. They’d cleared out the house after the compound was burnt. I hadn’t been allowed along, of course, but when they’d returned they’d been too busy focusing on rebuilding to pick up the pieces of the past to do anything more than put the fileboxes of notes - personal notes, they must have thought, because Cate had kept them at home in the wardrobe - away in a storeroom, where they had remained untouched until, almost a year later, I’d found them, thought in a brief, nostalgic moment that I might want to keep them myself, preserve what little was left of the woman who had been my mother. “They were smart, weren’t they?” Josh asked slowly. “Who?” “You know. Rodca.” Rodca. I hadn’t even thought of them as such since... since. What a funny, childish name. And yet, of course, Josh and Astrid *had* only been little. “Yeah, they were,” I agreed. I wouldn’t feel any more guilt, I vowed. I was over it and I’d stay over it. I had to stop tearing at myself. “Were they smart enough to do all this by themselves?” he probed. “Or do you think they maybe... had help?” “What sort of help?” I was puzzled by where Josh was going with it. He gazed down at a sheet of looseleaf he held, almost crumpled in his hands. “Daddy thinks that Ebony’s implant is alien technology,” he mumbled, as if embarrassed. “And you think that maybe Cate and Rodger were using alien technology?” I wondered. He nodded, glancing across at Ebony. I followed his gaze. She still wasn’t playing, only listening, but she seemed to be interested, and that was enough, for the moment. That was still progress. “Maybe...” Josh was struggling, almost physically, with that he was trying to say. “Maybe ... maybe they were. Maybe you still are...” “Hey, Joshie...” He was near tears and I tugged him onto my lap. “Even if that’s true, we’re only doing good with it, you know that. Right?” He nodded, sniffing back more tears, and I hugged him tighter. He was still holding the crumpled paper, but loosened his grip as if offering it to me. I took it, smoothing it out, and skimming through. It mentioned implants only cryptically and was followed by a series of incomprehensible numbers, what I thought was maybe co-ordinates. Erin, who had been asleep, strapped in her babyseat, announced to the world that she was awake with some angry bleats. Both Grae and I made as if to get up to reach her, but Astrid beat us there, undoing the restraints and lifting the baby out effortlessly, bringing her down to the floor with Josh and I. She brushed aside the papers and sat down with Erin on her lap, opening a picture book and reading to her quietly. She had high hopes of educating Erin all by herself, it sometimes seemed. Josh had crawled off my lap and I tried to summon up some brightness. “How about we clean this mess up, huh?” We got the papers all piled up again and returned to the file boxes, then I produced a pack of cards, handing them to Astrid to deal. There was a card game which she and Josh had devised by themselves, and if ever a card game depended on intellect, quick thinking, and a healthy dose of luck, this was it. She dealt for six. Graham was willing enough to play - he’d been around once or twice when I’d played it with the kids and picked it up quickly enough, but, not surprisingly, Ebony had declined with a slight shake of the head. She rubbed at her left eye with the heel of her hand- an action that I’d already figured out was an indication of nervousness, an excuse for not participating in something. “You’re going to help me out, right, Ebs?” Grae gave her a tug and she obediently followed him to the coffee table where we were set up to play. It was a bit of a squish around, especially with Erin still on Astrid’s lap, but I was glad that we were no longer divided. Although Grae had greeted the kids playfully enough when Dana and Fox had dropped them off earlier, he’d straight away returned his focus to Ebony. He was doting on her, everything he did a conscious response to her presence. The game, which Astrid had for some reason christened ‘Sneakers’, was in full swing, cards passed every which way, hands sweeping them up, under-the-breath muttering as people added up their card count, by the time the phone rang. I let it go for a minute, too close to winning to stop, but then Astrid slapped down a handful of card and announced gleefully “A hundred! I win!” I grabbed for the phone, just reaching it before what would have been one of the last rings. “Hello?” There was silence - not just on the line, but in the apartment. I turned and in a split second caught the looks of sudden apprehension on Astrid and Josh’s faces. Astrid had pulled Erin closer to her and Josh’s eyes dawned with horror. “It’s me, Jacqui. Um, I ... It’s...” It was Dana, and I’d never heard her sounding so shaken. Her next words were rushed, as if to reassure me. “He’s going be okay, they think, - they’ve got him in surgery - but...” “Is it Fox?” I demanded. I probably should have taken the phonecall to another room, where the kids couldn’t hear. But then, what good would that do? They already knew. I knew that. “What happened to him?” “Um,” I could almost see her trying to sniff back the tears. “He was shot, by the suspect. In the chest. It missed all major organs, they think, but it made a bit of a mess and he lost blood - a lot of it. The kids - I want them here, just in case. Could you pick them up from-?” “They’re here, Dana. Where are you? I’ll be there as soon as I can.” “St something Hospital. - And Erin, too. I need her here, just in case.. - We’re in Wheaton. Call me on my celphone, ‘okay? Listen, I’ve got to go...” There was a muted click and then the dialtone. I cleared my throat as I turned to face the kids. My insides had all gone strange, almost shrivelled, it felt, numb but tingling and sinking and lurching all at once. Something that had no scientific explanation. “Is he dead?” Astrid whispered the words. She was standing, frozen, oblivious to the now whimpering baby in her arms. “He’s going to be fine,” I assured them quickly, if not entirely honest. “It’s not the first time your dad has got himself shot, is it? Dana wants us to meet her up there. I reckon she just needs somebody to hug. What do you think?” Josh was already lacing up his shoes, eyes to the ground. I could see his hands trembling. I pulled on a pair of my own shoes, the joggers that sat inside my front door, stuffing the wetwipes and baby powder back into the diaper bag and swinging it up onto my shoulder, clipping my celphone onto my waistband and sweeping up my carkeys. Josh and Astrid were waiting for me at the door. I felt - and shared - their quiet urgency, the terror that the impossible might happen, had happened, that this would be an injury too great to survive. I knew that, statistically, Dana and Fox should have died each a double times so far, given the amount of times they’d been in danger or injured. And this luck, whatever it was - it couldn’t hold out forever. Grae was standing, still next to the coffee table. Ebony had also stood and was almost hiding behind Grae, fingers gripping the fabric of his sweater. “I don’t know when we’ll be back,” was all I could think to say. Graham nodded. I felt I should say more, but could think of nothing more to say. I couldn’t blurt out the fears in my mind - undoubtedly the kids were thinking the same, Grae too. There was just too much to articulate. “I’ll keep you posted,” I promised, and we left. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - Erin was crying. I could hear her, the hiccupping, sniffing tears, but my eyes were too heavy to open, my body too numb to move. I tested my lips, tried to clear my throat, and managed to croak out, “The baby’s crying, Scully.” “Yeah, she is.” I felt Scully’s soothing fingers stroking my cheek, a cool kiss laid on my forehead. “She’ll be okay. You gave us all quite a scare.” And she was still scared, still shaken; I could tell from the wavering in her voice. I’d been shot, I knew, but my mind was too hazy and my body too heavy for me to try and recall anything more than snatches. The janitor - what was his name, Elisha, something like that? Something biblical, prophetic - had had fired at me when I entered the room, kicking the weapon from my own hands as I fell back, before I had time to fire back at him. Christ, I was getting slow. Erin was still crying. “Maybe she’s hungry,” I murmured. Where had he shot me? I wondered. I should have known... I remembered pressing my hand down on it, trying to stop the bleeding, and I remembered Scully then pressing her hands down over my own, but I couldn’t remember where I’d been hit. It was as if a chunk of my memory was missing, a mental glitch. “Just rest for now, ‘kay, Mulder?” Her fingers were through my hair, gentle, caressing. I obeyed, expelling a long breath that felt raw in my throat. I was pretty heavily drugged, I could tell. My eyes still felt glued closed, although I was beginning to be conscious of my legs, testing out my toes and fingers. I wondered if Scully was still upset. She’d shot him - the killer, not the police officer; he’d just been tied up with tape - unflinchingly, but had been anything but calm when she ordered an ambulance, another one, and cradled me in her arms, soothing me, trying to stop the flow of blood. And she’d sat with me in the ambulance, talking to me even as I went in and out of consciousness, gripping my hand. But despite the apprehension I’d seen in her eyes, I’d trusted her with my life. “What’s the time?” “Just past twelve,” she answered quietly. “The kids are down in the cafeteria, getting lunch.” It had only been, what, seven, maybe seven-thirty when we’d arrived at Trainor’s - that was his name - place, and only just after that that I’d been shot. Half an hour in the ambulance and ER, then some emergency surgery, maybe an hour or two, depending on how much damage had been done, and then I’d been out of it for two hours. “You’re going to stay here, aren’t you, Scully?” “I’ll be here,” she promised. I could feel her breath lightly on my face, as if she were leaning over me. I was glad she was so close and that she’d stay; I needed her by my side. I could have lost her permanently, I realised. If Trainor had been any better a shot he could have taken my head off and I wouldn’t have been able to tell Scully everything I should have been telling her all along. We’d wasted so much time the last few months, angry at each other, putting up barriers and blocking each other out. I could have died without being able to make that up to her. “Let’s go out to dinner, Scully,” I murmured. My befuddled, still heavily drugged mind saw no illogic in such an invitation. “Just you and me.” “We will,” she agreed. “Soon as we get you out of here, I promise.” Her fingers were back on my face, as if she needed the contact as badly as I did. “Take some time to sleep the drugs off, okay?” I murmured in assent, already feeling myself beginning to doze off. Her hand slipped into mine and I held on to her as I drifted off to sleep. It was much later in the day when I woke again, maybe two or three in the afternoon. This time I managed to open my eyes, turning my neck cautiously as I surveyed my surroundings. It was an ordinary hospital room, a framed print of sunflowers on the painted yellow walls. Scully was standing a few feet away from the bed, Erin on her hip as she flipped through my chart. She had taken off her jacket and was in black slacks and that green long-sleeved tee I loved her in. It had dark splotches along the cuff of the side I could see, and it took me a few moments to realise that it was my dried blood. Her hair was a little rumpled, but otherwise she seemed in one piece. “I’m going to hold you to that dinner date, you know.” She spun around when she heard my voice, a small smile appearing on her lips. “Hey,” she greeted me softly. “I was wondering how much longer you’d sleep.” She drew a chair closer to the bed and sat, shifting Erin onto her lap. Erin gurgled delightedly, reaching out toward me and grasping the finger I offered her. “So, what’s the prognosis?” I tried to sound cheerful; I was, after all, ninety-nine percent certain that minimal damage had been done and there’d be no permanent side-effects, but I wanted Scully’s affirmation of that self-diagnosis before I truly allowed myself to relax. “The bullet hit your collarbone and richocheted off it, travelling through the chest cavity, just missing the heart and lungs, not to mention several major arteries. You were lucky, Mulder. Incredibly lucky.” She frowned as she said the last few words, and I could understand her concern. Even if, through some miracle, I’d again escaped with only minor injuries, the bullet could just as easily have hit me in the heart or punctured a lung. I could be lying in the cold hospital morgue right now, rather than in the filtered sunlight with my bright-eyed baby daughter trying to chew on my left-hand pinkie finger. “I know,” I agreed quietly. I lifted my right arm to offer the hand to Scully. She took it, kissing the fingertips with a troubled frown, clasping it between both hands. I tried to cheer her up. “Where are Astrid and Josh?” “Jacqueline took them to see a friend of hers down in research. One of Graham’s friends actually, I think.” “Did she bring Ebony up, too?” Scully shook her head. “She’s at Jacqui’s place, with Graham.” She sighed heavily, giving me a small, wistful smile. “How’d it happen, Mulder? How did you get shot?” I tried to shrug and felt the first stab of pain. “I didn’t realise he was armed. I saw him and entered the room but he pulled out the gun - out of nowhere - and shot at me before I had the chance to take him out.” “Why didn’t you shoot him once you’d been shot?” I groaned at the recollection. “He kicked the weapon right out of my hands. I was stunned from the impact of the bullet and loosened my grip on the gun, just for a second or two, but enough for him. He kicked it right under the dresser. Did they find it?” “I don’t know, yet,” she admitted. “They will though. They’ll just take a while to go through both crime scenes.” “You shot him dead, didn’t you, Scully?” My voice had suddenly gone a little hoarse. “Yeah, I did,” she said softly. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - I felt no remorse at having shot him - he was, after all, a serial killer who had threatened my own life and family, and shot my partner. For that he deserved no sympathy. And, yet... I wished desperately that I hadn’t pulled on my green sweater in my hurry this morning. The colour reminded me too much of Trainor’s eyes, the penetrating gaze, the frightening intensity with which he’d spoken to me. I had seen, in his eyes, that he’d believed what he was saying. An involuntary shudder ran through me and I shook it away, refocusing on Mulder. He was looking remarkably good for somebody only a few hours of surgery, although the yellow hospital gown he was wearing, the same pale shade as the walls, didn’t exactly enhance his complexion. He was a little grey, maybe, his beautiful eyes still a little clouded. He was gazing at Erin, pulling faces for her as she tugged at his hand like a puppy playing tug-of-war. I reached out to ruffle his hair again with my free hand, needing almost desperately to keep that physical contact, reassure myself that he was still alive. I’d reached a point, almost, where I’d ceased to believe in our own mortality - we’d lived charmed lives, escaping from situations when others died. This had been a warning, a reminder that there was danger there, every day, that maybe the next time Mulder was confronted by an armed killer would be his last, that never again would I watch him with Erin or be held in his strong embrace. It was as if I’d been reminded how fragile our existence was, how fragile we as humans were. “How’s Robbins doing?” Mulder’s question drew me out of my wonderings. “He had a nasty concussion and needed sutures but he’ll be fine. And Trenton,” I added, “is down at the station writing out his statement, from what I last heard. Or trying, at least - he seemed pretty traumatised.” Mulder was nodding slightly and I could tell it was in relief that his efforts hadn’t been in vain. “And Trainor’s dead?” he asked doubtfully. His voice trembled, sounded a little hoarse, and I took his hand again, squeezing gently. I nodded. He seemed to struggle with his thoughts, then he cleared his throat. “So what’s happening now?” His mouth curved up into a wry smile. “What have I missed?” I tried to match his smile, but I felt emotionally worn out. I was glad, indescribably glad that he was fine and would be fine, but I’d had enough for the day. “Local PD searched Trainor’s house and found his supply of Succinylcholine. He hadn’t done such a great job of hiding it. That’s why he would have gone back to the house, but Robbins must have interrupted him before he could get to it. Maybe he tried to sneak around the back way, I don’t know. They also found a receipt - he bought the drug over the internet from a medical supplier that was going out of business.” “Nothing like a few shady business deals to go out with style,” Mulder mused. “Continue, Ms. Jessica Fletcher.” I smiled tolerantly at the dig. “That’s all, so far, anyway. Last time I rang in they told me they’d found half a dozen journals Trainor had been keeping, three years’ worth of rambling about the end of the world.” “The psychotic ones always seem to have literary ambitions,” he deadpanned. His eyes searched my face and his expression sobered. “You know now why he did it, don’t you? Why he chose his victims?” I nodded, fighting back the sudden tears and the lump in my throat. “He saw me doing a good deed, trying to save Pittson’s life, and he just wanted me to get into Heaven. Just like all those other people. He honestly thought that he had to do God’s work.” “And that there was a closing date.” There was absolutely no unkindness in Mulder’s tone. I felt a surge of affection for him and squeezed his hand tighter. “I guess we all want it to be in our own lifetimes,” I shrugged, uncertain. “I wonder,” Mulder mused curiously, “how God *does* choose. Who goes to Heaven and who doesn’t, I mean.” “Well, it’s -” I began, but then I cut myself off. I didn’t want to get into any deep theosophical discussion with Mulder, not then. Not when I had no idea what sort of rifts it could cause. I half-rose, ungripping Erin’s fingers as she grasped at Mulder’s cotton blankets. “I’ll go see if I can find the kids. They’ll want to see for themselves that you’re awake and okay.” Jacqui had been worried, too, even though Mulder wasn’t generally her favourite person. She and the kids had turned up while Mulder was still in surgery and found me pacing in the waiting room. I’d tried to be calm, for the kids’ sakes as much as anything else. We were all trying to be calm, trying to keep the fear surpressed. There had been no use saying anything or doing anything or getting emotional until we found out. I bent down to kiss his forehead, but then impulsively brushed my lips across his instead. I felt a strange thrill of excitement, as if it was four years ago and we were more friends than lovers. “I love you,” I promised softly. He smiled, almost shyly, as if he shared my nostalgia. “Love you too,” he whispered, his fingers on my cheek. Then he kissed Erin’s forehead. “And my Monkey.” My eyes met his and there was perfect understanding between the two of us. I held the gaze for several seconds, letting him read my eyes, my thoughts, the fear I felt that he’d almost gone over the edge and the relief that he hadn’t, that he’d drawn himself back. And for the first time in months, I felt a peace within me, a peace shared by Mulder. Not the shadow of peace that I’d glimpsed and held onto in our better moments, but a real harmony, an inner serenity. Equilibrium had been restored, and, for now, we would let it reign. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - We met Jacqueline and Graham for lunch three weeks later. They had been quiet weeks and I’d been thankful for that - Scully too, I thought. After being released from the hospital I’d spent a week at home, in what wouuld have to count as the most enjoyable convalescence of my life, aside from the pain and discomfort, that was. Scully went in to work every morning to collect paperwork from the case and any new casefiles, and then the rest of the day was spent sorting through them at a leisurely pace, often distracted by Erin, or the kids when they got home from school, helping Josh finish off his family history assignment. He got an A. Astrid and Josh had been clingier than they had been in a long time when Scully brought me home, promising my doctor I’d be well taken care of. Astrid had fussed over me as if I were another baby sibling to care for, and Josh had been keeping me company in that quiet way of his, telling me shyly about his day, asking me about the case files I perused or books that filled my time. I wasn’t surprised that they felt such a need to be reassured of my well-being - Scully had told me how they’d crawled into our bed beside her the night I’d been shot and slept there every night until my return - but what had really surprised me was that they weren’t drifting away again, even when I went back to work and Kathy was there to pick them up from school and ask about their day instead of Scully and I. Scully, too - I felt closer to her than I had in a while. Not only because I’d been reminded of how important she was to me, but because she seemed to want to be there with me, be close to me, hear me whisper her name again and again like feathery caresses. She sat beside me during the lunch with Jacqueline and Graham, her hand on my back, rubbing lightly. We were seated at one of the cafe’s outdoor tables and the sun was surprisingly warm, the day more like Spring than Winter. It was only we four adults - when had I started classifying Jacqueline as an adult in my mind, I wondered? - which was sometimes a recipe for disaster, but we were all relaxed, surprisingly. Jacqueline and Graham were drinking their way through a bottle of wine and I noted how Scully kept an analytical eye on Jacqueline. I could see she was wondering how responsible Jacqueline was, what sort of an influence Graham was. If the pair of them were ready to be parents, maybe. I was still on pain medication and Scully wouldn’t let me have anything to drink, despite how many pouty faces I pulled. All she did was laugh. Jacqueline seemed merry - that was the only word I could think of. Graham, too, seemed in an extraodinarily good mood. I didn’t think it was the alcohol - they’d been just as buoyant before the bottle was even opened. Our explanation was given when Jacqueline, in a deliberately offhand way, started telling us the plans she and ‘Grae’ had been making - wedding plans. A feeling of doubt, maybe skepticism, rippled through the table when Jacqueline told us they’d booked a church for the service and restaurant for the reception - for the following Friday evening. Scully glanced across at me and I could see the concern flickering in her eyes in that brief second. She was wondering, as I was, whether Jacqueline genuinely had things figured out for herself yet. Jacqueline herself wasn’t giving anything away - but, then again, if she had convinced herself of something, we wouldn’t know either way. They’d left Ebony with a sitter - qualified nanny trained in CPR and child psychology, no less - and left soon after we’d finished the meal, having promised the little girl they’d be home by three on the dot. I’d only seen Ebony two or three times since we’d dropped her at Jacqueline’s place the night of the school’s performing arts festival. She still hadn’t spoken, wouldn’t initiate contact. She would respond to simple instructions. She no longer reacted violently to being touched - unless somebody came up from behind. Apparently Jacqueline had reached to tap her on the shoulder to get her attention and Ebony had screamed so loudly the neighbours had been concerned. They hadn’t been able to calm her down for hours, and even after the screaming had stopped and then the crying, she’d sat curled up in a ball, shivering. It had been a setback, but Jacqueline had certainly learnt her lesson. Despite that, Ebony had looked at least little better when I’d seen her, hair cut shorter and combed, though you could see the child had done it herself, and wearing new clothes Jacqueline had bought her. They fitted better than Astrid’s hand-me-downs had. She was gaining weight, too, though, Jacqueline said, it was a slow process. Everything, Graham had added, was a slow process, although he spoke more with a satisfied, playful sort of grimness than real bitterness. We’d left the kids at Margaret’s place and found them around the back in the garden, where Josh and Astrid were helping weed. They always seemed to be doing gardening or playing in the yard when we left them here, I thought, but I could understand why. It wasn’t as if they ever got the chance to do those things elsewhere. And it was a change for the normal, as Scully liked to playfully lecture me. They needed to get out and play in the dirt every once in a while. And I could understand that perfectly - I still felt that way, needed to get out and play some ball like I was ten again. Margaret was sitting on a blanket on the grass with Erin on her lap and greeted us with a nod. She was singing, and as we moved closer I recognised it as a song Scully and Astrid often sang to Erin, complete with hand movements. “Three little ducks went out one day, over the hills and far away...” “Mommeee! Daddeeeeeeeee!” Astrid threw down the weeder and lunged at us, throwing her arms around our dual form in a hug. She released us and tugged at my hand, pulling me away from Scully, who was watching Erin with her mom. “Come see my garden, Daddy!!” Margaret had given each of them a small piece of what I thought had once been vegetable garden. I remembered seeing them working there last visit, over a month ago, and it seemed in that time nothing short of a miracle had occured. Josh’s plot was flowers, and although I knew very little about botany, I was certain that most of the flowers had no right to be in full bloom at that time of year. But I didn’t question him about it, knowing that he would have no answer for me, only a shrug, and instead examined the deliberate placement of the different colours and species. There was something intricate about the layout, almost familiar. “It’s a Mondrian,” Josh said shyly, in reponse to my unasked question, and as soon as he said it I could see the symmetrical lines, the blocks of primary colours, the tiny white blossoms that formed the empty squares. It was incredible. “You’re so *arty*, Joshie!” Astrid sighed dramatically. But she hugged him quickly as if to reassure she was only teasing. And I knew there had been no spite or jealousy - they were too different for her to feel threatened, both brilliant in their own ways. Astrid tugged us along to see her garden, and while everything in Josh’s garden had been as finely structured as if it had been professionally landscaped, Astrid’s was the epitome of spontaneity and chaos. Bits of every growable species known to man, it seemed; tufts of weedlike grass she told us - and then pulled one out to prove to us, a puny little thing with dangly, dirt-clodded roots - were carrots, as well as beans and tomato plants, all tied to small stakes shoved in the dirt. Herbs too, and some odd flowers filling the gaps as if she’d taken cuttings from everywhere in the garden. She probably had. “You like it, don’t you, Daddy?” she demanded earnestly. “Absolutely,” I promised, and she knew I meant it. I loved it because it represented the eager spontaneity of her mind, just as Josh’s showed the beauty and precision of his. She grinned, hugging me tightly. “That’s good.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - “You can’t wear *black*, Mommy!” It was the third time, and Astrid sounded more exasperated with every time she said that. I was standing in front of the full-length mirror, considering the fall of the dress. I didn’t see why she was so against the idea - I wore a lot of black. But, as she’d been telling me, this *was* a wedding I was dressing for, not a funeral. I sighed, reaching for the zip. “Okay, bring me the blue one you liked.” Astrid jumped up to go fetch but I stopped her. “Wait, unzip me first.” She brought me the blue dress, then a different one in a darker shade of blue, then another in a violet-ish hue, then an obscenely bright green one that I didn’t even try on. For over an hour she fetched, zipped, laced and buttoned, her energy endless, excitement undying. Usually I could have found myself something to wear in half an hour or less, but Astrid was being unusually choosy, having a critical opinion of everything I tried on. Too formal, not formal enough, too plain, too busy, unflattering, wrong colour... It was difficult. Jacqueline had told us ‘black-tie’, late afternoon wedding with a dinner reception, but it had been so long since I’d even tried to look elegant and well-dressed. With Erin around anything I wore was likely to be sicked up on. “I liked the black one,” I admitted, staring at myself in a corset and skirt combination which I thought was probably designed more for a teenager girl’s prom. I’d always been partial to the little black dress, elegant cut, simple, slinky shape. Astrid sighed dramatically. “Fine, put it on again and we’ll see.” How on earth did she manage to sound so much like my mother, I wondered. Astrid officially surrendered to my determination to get the black dress, her mock-disappointment vanishing when I told her it was time to find her something. She’d been telling me all morning she was going to get something red or marrone to bring out the colour in her face, but that was over when she fell in love at first sight with a blue satin party dress, covered with embroidered flowers and with an enormous silky sash. But they had none in her size, the smallest they had being still two sizes too big. That was the smallest size made, we were told. “But I *want* it,” Astrid protested, anguished. “I want to look beautiful for Duckie’s wedding, Mommy.” No longer did she sound like my mother - she was now just another whiny eight-year-old. “Let’s shop around some more, huh?” I suggested half-heartedly. “You’ll find something else you’ll like.” But, just as I’d always come back to the black dress, Astrid ended up staring through the glass-plated windows at the blue one. I glanced at my watch. We’d split from Mulder, Josh and Erin after finding Josh a grey jacket that matched his school trousers and a Scooby Doo tie - Mulder had jokingly but firmly told us being forced to sit in dress shops was an affront to masculinity that he and Josh shouldn’t have to endure and taken Josh and Erin off to the kids’ toystore on the lower level. The LegoDacta displays down there could keep Josh amused for hours and gave Mulder the opportunity to get off his feet. His recovery had been quick, but he still tired easily. I probably shouldn’t have left him with the two of them for so long. Erin could be a trial... “I guess...” Astrid sighed. “We don’t have to get the blue one, if you don’t want to.” “I know all about reverse psychology, sweetie.” I smiled, then sighed. “You really want it, don’t you?” She nodded eagerly. I chewed on my lower lip, then nodded. “Okay, let’s see if they could alter it for you.” Astrid grinned, grabbing me around the waist and squeezing tightly. “You won’t regret this, Mommy,” she promised. She was still bouncing up and down with excitement when we met up with Mulder and Erin. Josh was off investigating the range of Mecano sets and Mulder was half-slumped on a courtesy bench, Erin on his lap, the stroller beside him. And tossed in the stroller, I noticed curiously, was a bunch of flowers, irises, wrapped in shiny purple paper and tied with a yellow ribbon. I was staring at them, and he jolted, following my gaze, as if he’d forgotten they were there. One arm around Erin, he shot out a hand to grab them, trying unsuccessfully to hide them behind his back. Grinning sheepishly, he brought them out again, offering them to me. I raised an eyebrow, teasingly skeptical. “What inspired this?” “I’m giving my beautiful wife flowers,” he answered. There was a poutiness in his tone that suggested he was getting a little defensive, insecure over my reception of them. I smiled, bending, tilting his chin up and kissing him. “Thank you,” I said simply, smiling reassuringly at him. He was still such an unassured creature, and I wondered if that would ever change. I’d thought that, knowing of my love for him, my loyalty to him, he’d be able to feel more secure, but it didn’t seem that way. Was that because lately my love for him had been anything *but* stable and dependable? I felt guilty, as if I’d let him down by not being there as his rock and his touchstone. I took Erin from him and strapped her into the stroller, then tugged Mulder to his feet, slipping an arm around his waist as if almost to support him. Physically, emotionally, psychologically - if he needed me, I was there. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - JACQUELINE POV - Rain clouds had been threatening all morning, but by early afternoon the sky had cleared. It had been an odd sort of day, a day of waiting and little more. Grae had taken Ebony to therapy in the morning, an hour long session from ten til eleven. The child psychogist had been recommended to him by one of his colleagues and this second session had apparently proven just as useless as the first. Ebony had been silent, less communicative even than she was at home. But “We’ll just keep going til we start making progress,” Grae had vowed. They’d gotten home at half-past eleven and since then we’d just been waiting. It wasn’t as if we had an enormous amount of preparation to do - we’d agreed on a very simple ceremony. II hadn’t even planned on wearing white, until Dana bullied me into it. I’d found a gorgeous slimline white dress, simple - no marshmallow skirts for me. Grae and I had taken Ebony shopping for more clothes when I’d found a jewellry store specialising in tiaras. He’d been in a good mood - he always was, when Ebony was around, especially when he’d managed to coax some smiles out of her - and bought the one I liked best, even though it was the most expensive. The hair stylist had just started pinning the tiara on my hair - a strange sight, the elegant coils and sparkling diamonds, and me still wearing jeans and a loose shirt - when Grae entered; without knocking, as usual. “Ebony left her Suzie doll at Dr Weisenhammer’s,” he said briefly. “We’re going to pick it up.” “Now?” I was incredulous. I glanced at the clock. “But it’s a quarter to four!” The service had been scheduled to start at five and he and Ebony still needed to get dressed, as did I. Plus he wanted to be up there at least fifteen minutes before we began to ensure everything was in place, he’d said. “You know she has to tuck Suzie Doll in every night.” There was a little anger in his voice. He was the one who had named Suzie Doll, who had bought Ebony the doll and the handcrafted crib with its handsewn bedding and blankets. Ebony had seemingly forgotten about all her other toys - and there were an enormous amount of them, already - the moment Suzie Doll was placed in her arms, and she carried the doll with her every moment of the day. It should have been strange - would have, if she otherwise acted or seemed her eight years - but we were just glad that she was making the connection, showing some understanding of human behaviour. “We won’t have any time later - Christ knows what time the reception’s going to finish. And she won’t sleep without it.” “Fine, go.” I shrugged, gesturing for him to shoo. “Pre-wedding jitters,” Sarah the hairstylist assured me sagely. “They all get like that.” “Yeah, so I’ve heard,” I agreed unenthusiastically. Staring at my reflection was too depressing so I instead stared at the rose in the vase on my dressing table, a gift from Graham last night. He always seemed to be bringing me gifts these days, but I wondered if that was only because he also brought gifts for Ebony and didn’t want me to feel left out. But I was just depressing myself, I knew, thinking thoughts like that. And just as likely it was the other way around, Ebony the one receiving presents as not to feel left out. “What do you think?” Sarah asked, tilting my head so I was facing the mirror. I stared at myself, wishing that today was any other day. “I like it,” I said quietly, trying to smile, which wasn’t dishonest - I did like it, I just wished that it was somebody else who would soon step into that wedding dress and say the vows Grae and I had rehearsed. The phone rang as I was showing Sarah out and I was hopeful that it was Graham, imagining that maybe he felt guilty about being so harsh and just wanted to tell me that he loved me. But it was Dana. “You ‘kay, Jacqui?” she sounded concerned. I could almost see her frowning. “You’re sounding as if you’re having regrets. You don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to, you know that?” I knew that was her fear; that I was going through this only because I felt obligated, because I felt I’d gone past the point of no return. “You mean, ‘I am in blood stepped in so far that should I wade no more, returning were as tedious as go o’er’?” I quoted, trying to sound offhand, relaxed. “No,” I lied. Somehow I just knew that I couldn’t be honest, couldn’t admit to her my complete and utter confusion. And cowardice. I was more afraid of what would happen if I called the wedding off than of going through with it. “I’m going through with this because I want to.” “Are you sure?” She still sounded doubtful. “I’ll be fine, Dana,” I told her. I’d begun to shake, as if with the effort of having to withhold the truth from her, maybe. “Listen, I’ve still got to get ready. I’ll see you up there, okay?” “We’ll be there,” she promised me, and I felt a little comfort in her words. Maybe I was just being over-anxious. It was, after all, my wedding day. I was entitled to cold feet. I did my makeup but waited until Grae got back to get into my dress, letting him do up the tiny pearl buttons along my back up for me. Ebony’s doll had been recovered and Ebony was now dressing the doll up for the wedding, he said. “She can’t bring that thing along,” I objected. I felt him tug almost violently at the fabric of my dress as he pulled it closed to do up the buttons and knew that had been a bad move. “She loves that doll. If she wants to bring it along, that’s her business. Besides, you’re the one who got matching dresses made.” “I was humouring her!” I protested. He finished buttoning, deliberate yanks, and I pulled away from him. “God! Why can’t you just be kind to me, Grae? Just for today?” I was getting angry. I’d never really been angry at him before. He grabbed my chin between thumb and forefinger, a curiously appraising look in his eyes. “I love your spirit,” he said, and my anger faded into confusion. He smiled, almost gently. “I confuse you, don’t I?” “Yes,” I whispered. I felt lost, utterly lost. “You confuse me too, Jacqui,” he said softly, still smiling in that gentle way. “You push me away, all the time. Did you know that you do that?” “I don’t,” I protested numbly. “Yes, you do,” he corrected. “You don’t want me to love you. You don’t need my love.” “I do,” I shot back at him, almost pleading. I knew what he was heading toward. “I need you just as much as Ebony does, but you don’t accept my faults! You let her get away with everything, but you won’t let me get away with anything!” “You’re going to be my wife, Jacqui. Do you realise that? This isn’t just an amusement in town for the carnival season. I know what the divorce statistics are and I refuse to add to that. Marriage vows should be sacred. I don’t want you up there sprouting them unless you really mean it.” “What is this, an ultimatum?” I wondered aloud, defensive. “Pretty much,” he spoke brusquely. He moved over to the bed, pulling off his shirt as he went. “Well, what do I do? Put on my monkeysuit or start packing? It’s up to you.” “It shouldn’t be up to me!” I protested with sudden vehemence. “You’re always blaming me for my flaws, but I never blame you for yours! You’re all hard corners, Grae. You don’t want to love me any more than I -” I cut myself off, trying another tack. “You love Ebony because she’s like a pet to you, you can teach her tricks. But I won’t learn those tricks, and that’s what makes you mad!” “Bloody hell!” he exploded. He turned, swinging out his open palm as if to slap me, but I caught his wrist. “I know how to kill a man.” I felt a sudden, chilling calm as I met his stunned eyes. “I could break your arm like *that*. Just as easily as you could hit me. Don’t you ever try to hit me, again.” I released his grip and he stared at me, fear and wonder in his eyes. “I do love your spirit,” he marvelled quietly. I sucked in a deep breath. Taking a step back, I closed my eyes, hugging myself tightly, too weary to try and make sense of it all, of Grae. Why did I love such a complicated man? But I knew the answer to that - his mind, like mine, was so complex. Simplicity just wasn’t something we could understand or relate to. I didn’t understand him at all, I realised, but at the same time, I discovered that I wanted to. I wanted that volatile combination that was us. And now my chance had gone, I felt sure of it. I began to cry, just quietly, tears in my eyes and then trickling down my cheeks. I felt a thumb on my cheek, so beautifully gentle, and opened my eyes. He reached up with his other hand so that he was cupping both of my cheeks, guilt in his eyes, remorse on his face. “I’m sorry, my darling,” he whispered. “But I don’t really know, and I wish that I did. I want to give you everything you want, but I need to know that you’re with me because you want to be here.” He paused, eyes searching my face. “Do you? Be truthful, Jacqui.” “I do,” I muttered, sliding my arms around his waist, sniffing back tears as he hugged me against his bare chest, my head on his shoulder. “I want you to be here with me when I wake up in the morning, every morning. I need you here.” He was rubbing my back through the silk panels of the dress and I breathed in a deep breath, tired. I wanted to stay wrapped in his arms, to sleep soundly, to wallow in the soft, gentle comfort. “If we’re doing it tonight, we’ve got to go now.” He spoke into my hair. I drew a little away from him, silently pleading for a postponement. “And if we’re doing it,” he added, “We’re doing it tonight. I’m not going to give us any more chances.” Oh God... I felt tears surfacing again but Grae caught my chin. “No more tears. Understood?” It was an effort, but I held them back, wiping at my eyes. I didn’t want to think what the tears had done with my mascara. I’d have to clean it all off and start again, I guessed. More concealer, this time, though. No doubt I was getting bags under my eyes... And I’d already made up my mind, I suddenly realised. I was going to go through with this committment. I drew a deep breath, reaching to pick up the shirt he’d thrown on the floor. “You go and get Ebony dressed.” I was surprised that I could sound so calm. “I’ve got to fix my makeup. Then you get dressed and we’ll go.” He nodded, pulling the shirt on over his head, and staring at me as he pulled it straight. “I do love you, you know,” he said, a small wistful smile on his lips. “We can work from that, can’t we?” “Yeah, we can,” I agreed, watching as he left the bedroom. Things were even more complicated than I’d thought, but I was up to the challenge. Maybe. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - There were a few hymns, a short talk on marriage, an explanation of the vows and then the vows themselves. It was an expanded version of the talk Scully and I had receieved in the registery office, a lecture we’d listened to with bemusement. I remembered whispering to Scully “That’s the only criteria? We should have been here three years ago.” She’d smiled at that and squeezed my hand tightly. There were only thirteen or fourteen people in the church, including the minister and organist. It was winter, close enough to Christmas that Astrid had been hoping for snow, and had been near dusk when Jacqueline had arrived at the church, climbing out of the stretch limousine. The church was an old one, only small, and the trees around the cobbled courtyard had been hung with tiny white twinkling fairy lights. We’d been waiting outside for them to arrive so that we could take Ebony to sit with us inside and Scully had been fidgeting beside me, muttering something about Erin’s new sitter, when I knew what she had really worried about. She had been concerned over whether Jacqueline would go through with it, whether Jacqueline *should* go through with it... And Jacqueline did go through with it. Calmly, with even a small smile. We sat in a pew at the front, Scully and I together, Josh and Astrid to my right, Ebony sitting on Scully’s left, next to the aisle so that she could see. Ebony and Astrid looked anything but identical tonight - Ebony had on a pink dress which only emphasized how small and young she looked, as if she were only five or six, like Josh, instead of eight. She had a doll which she clutched against her, in a matching dress. Astrid’s dress, alterations only finished the day before, was still a little too big, but she still wore it, and her favourite black party shoes, with pride. Her hair was up, some sort of twist of her own division, while Ebony’s was down, already a mess of unruly curls. They looked like sisters, absolutely, but no longer twins. I preferred it that way, myself. Seeing Astrid’s twin always disturbed me. We took Ebony in our car to the reception. She stared curiously out the window the whole ride, oblivious to Astrid and Josh’s excited - and, I thought, nervous - conversations. The moment we saw the place I understood why it was black tie. I’d underestimated how much Graham earned, was my first thought. And then I discovered that they had booked the small restaurant out for the night. “No expense spared,” Scully murmured, drawing closer to me and tugging at Josh’s hand. “Tell me about it,” I agreed. Ebony had strayed from our small family huddle and was staring at a painting on the opposite wall. “Ebony -” I called, but Scully stopped me. “It’s okay, she’s been here before,” she reassured me. She continued, almost wistfully, “Jacqui told me she and Graham shopped around before they found this place. I think Ebony’s developed quite a taste for the gourmet.” And gourmet it was, all eight courses. It was a surprisingly comfortable meal, all of us seated at one long table formed by several smaller ones. Jacqueline and Graham were at the head of the table, us and the kids down one side, the other guests, two friends of Graham’s and their significant others. It was only a small group, but a relatively content group. And, above all, a very intellectual one. Like any other meal we’d shared with Jacqueline and Graham, the conversation covered all sorts of obscure topics. The kids were shy at first, but it only took a little playful stirring by Jacqueline for Astrid to launch forth with her opinion on the various matters. As the evening progressed and bottle upon empty bottle of expensive chardonnay was removed by the waiters the conversation grew less topical and more personal. And jokes - one of Graham’s friends, Stuart, seemed to have an endless supply, and a knack for telling them that had tears of laughter rolling down even Scully’s cheeks. I felt a sudden need to relish her as I listened to her laugh, to appreciate my possession of her, and I drew my chair closer so that I was sitting beside her, snaking my arm around her waist so that my hand lay flat across her taut stomach. She reached up her hand to place it over mine, smiling across at me, then bending her neck so that I could brush my lips across her cheek, teasing the earlobe with my teeth. She giggled softly, reaching to kiss me on the lips. Something strange alwayshappened when Scully got tipsy - sometimes she got quieter, sometimes gigglier. But, always, she got this odd playful, seductive glint in her eye. And who was I to complain? She watched with a curious smile as Stuart took his wife by the hand and led her onto the dance floor. Then she herself stood, lifting her skirt a little so it didn’t get tangled in the chair legs, and extended her hand to me, as if to coyly asking: Wanna dance with me, Mulder? I grinned, delighted, giving her my hand and letting her pull me up in one strong tug. It was just the two of us tonight. Astrid and Josh were around, sure, but they didn’t need us. They were in their element, conversing as adults. Jacqueline and Graham were being careful to include them, but after overcoming her original shyness Astrid needed no further encouragement. She was playing up to Jacqueline, while Josh earnestly discussed deforestation with the wife of Graham’s other friend, an environmentalist named Sue. Ebony was the only one excluded, and that was something we could do nothing about, we knew. Scully and I hadn’t danced much. In fact, I could probably have counted the number of times we’d danced on one hand. But despite that, there was a fluidity to our movements as if we’d rehearsed a hundred times, a comfortability in the way my free hand roamed over her back, brushed across her hip, searching for a place to rest. “You’re beautiful,” I murmured fervently, kissing her neck. “I’m so glad I’m alive to know that.” “Me too,” she murmured in agreement, pressing her cheek against my shoulder with a small, contented sigh. But I wouldn’t let her just be content - I spun us around a little and she giggled, smiling up at me, eyes alight. We returned to the table, exhilarated, my arms around my giggling Scully, to find Graham had moved to my seat and was talking with Ebony and Josh, who had returned to his own place. “Aren’t you going to dance with your bride?” I challenged him, indicating Jacqueline who sat listening to Astrid arguing with Sue’s husband over the merits of private schools. “Yeah, of course.” He paused to tell Ebony where he was going, then rose, flashing Jacqueline that charming, almost wolfish smile, and taking her to the dance floor. I still wasn’t sure about Graham. I knew Scully wasn’t, either. “They’re a strange couple,” she observed, punctuating ‘couple’ with a small giggle as I sat and pulled her onto my lap. “I don’t understand why they’re together.” “Do you think they’ll stay together?” I wondered. She shrugged. “I don’t know.” She sounded a little more sober, her hands again clasped over mine on her stomach. She sighed, then drew a deep breath. I could feel it through the fabric of her dress. “I guess it’s too late for us to do anything, though..” Her tone had lightened, as if she was dismissing any responsibility for concern from mind. She shrugged, smiling at me with a cocked eyebrow. I kissed her gently on the lips and she smiled again, snuggling in against me as she watched Jacqueline and Graham dance. Their heads were close together and it looked as if they were whispering between them, but then he drew Jacqueline closer and she rested her chin on his shoulder, her arms around him. I felt a sort of apprehension as I watched them that I hadn’t felt before. Like Scully, I felt that something was wrong with this situation, felt responsibility for Jacqueline who didn’t seem to know where she was going. Was this a mistake that we were somehow supposed to prevent? “It’s too late for us to do anything,” Scully repeated, as if she’d known what I was thinking. And then, as if to contradict my thoughts, I heard a merry laugh from the dance floor, and glanced over to see Graham holding Jacqueline in his arms, spinning slowly, teasingly. Then he slowed, let her feet slide to the ground, and they kissed, playfully but then deeper, unaware that we were all watching. Scully leaned back against me, her head on my chest just under my chin. She looked up at me, reaching up to touch my cheek. “I love you,” she murmured, sounding a little sleepy. Jacqueline and Graham didn’t leave til well after midnight. We watched as Graham picked up Ebony and climbed into the limo beside Jacqueline with the still-sleeping child on his lap, saw the wistful way Jacqueline reached to brush her fingers through Ebony’s hair, the shy smile she gave Graham as he extended his left arm, wrapping it around her and gently rubbing her bare upper arm with his thumb. Our own kids were still up and going, if only just. I carried Josh down to the car, yawning every time he did. It was a half hour drive home and I fought the whole time to stay awake while the others were all falling asleep, even Scully, nodding off as she told me about how roaringly drunk Tara’s father had gotten at Bill and Tara’s wedding. She was usually pretty careful with what she said about Brother Bill in my presence, knowing the lack of affection he harboured for me, but right then she didn’t seem to have any problems with revealing her brother’s weaker, easily-embarrassed side. “Missy was the bane of Bill’s life,” she chuckled, her words slurred a little with sleepiness and alcohol. “She liked people to think she was weird, went around barking like a dog and telling people she was the reincarnation of Cleopatra. Bill refused to be near her in public, in the end.” It was probably good that we reached home right then, because she had almost fallen asleep, as Josh and Astrid had in the back seat. She carried Josh into the apartment and I Astrid, and together we tucked the two of them into their beds. She then went to check on Erin as I paid the sitter. There was still a little coffee left in the pot and I poured it out into a mug, meandering into the bedroom where Scully was holding Erin, a towel in place between herself and the infant to prevent sickup on her new dress. Then she gently lowered Erin back into the crib, tossing down the towel, talking softly to Erin. I stood, watching her, wishing I had more opportunity to see her dressed up like that. The dress was simple but cling to her tiny form, the neckline an unScullyishly low one, revealing a tantalizing amount of cleavage, and her back and arms were bare, the state I best liked them in. And her hair... it was only out, the same way she wore it for work, although maybe she’d curled the ends or something. But the effect with the dress was striking. I wondered if before that moment I’d truly appreciated how sexy she was. “You’re -” “Beautiful, I know,” she finished smiling. She turned to face me, hands gripping the crib rails behind her in a teasing sort of way. “That’s the fifth time you’ve told me tonight, Mulder.” “Not just beautiful,” I murmured, moving close enough to run my fingers along her bare arms, then closer, close enough to nuzzle against her breasts, bend to kiss the soft flesh. “Sexy, too. Very, very sexy...” But she pushed me away, gently. “Is this coffee?” She reached to pick up the mug I’d placed on the shelves, taking a sip and letting out a contented sigh. She was teasing me, I knew, but I played along anyway, kissing along her neck as I tried to ease the mug from her grip. And then she’d finished the coffee and had brought my mouth to her own, giggling a little as she kissed me, her hands fumbling to rid me of my jacket and unknot my tie, and we tumbled onto the bed together, groping and giggling like teenagers doing it for the first time. “Very sexy,” I repeated, peeling the dress off her slowly, kissing each inch of flesh as it was revealed. She giggled, my hair tickling her skin as I burrowed against her. “Smart is sexy,” she quoted, giggling, and I laughed, bringing my lips to hers, my fingers caressing, framing her beautiful, honest, playful face. “Always,” I said. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - JACQUELINE POV - “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas...” Bing Crosby droned for the fifth time that night. Grae was a stickler for tradition when it came to things like Christmas, so I’d discovered. “Shove over,” he teased, returning from the kitchen where he’d been rinsing our coffee mugs. I scooted over carefully, not wanting to wake Ebony as she slept in my arms. “Did you know that this is our first Christmas together?” he asked suddenly. I was surprised. “Really?” He nodded, reaching out to caress Ebony’s hair affectionately. The amount of tenderness he had for her was nothing short of amazing, I thought. “She reached up to take my hand today, you know,” he said quietly, staring at the sleeping child. Her mouth was a little open as she slept and she was breathing through it. Her face was still gaunt, though the hollows under her eyes not so deep, and there was now colour in her cheeks. She was starting to get a little more flesh on her bones, too. “What do you mean?” “When we were crossing the road, when I took her down to the grocery store. Usually I have to take her hand, but today she reached up to take mine.” “Impressive,” I murmured. I could see how important such a small step was. He was trying so hard and progress was being made, finally. “I’m proud of you.” And I meant that, genuinely. He smiled, snuggling up against me, kissing my cheek. “I know you are.” We sat for a while, snuggled contentedly, him dropping the occasional kiss on my neck or cheek or hair. The phone rang and I stretched out a hand to pick it up. It was Beth, Grae’s sister, and I passed the phone over to him. Although she and I had never met, we usually managed to conduct at least a brief conversation before I passed the phone along to Grae. But tonight I sensed a shakiness in her voice, an enormous amount of pain. I searched inside myself for courage as I watched Grae, pacing as he spoke to her and listen to her reponses, felt the grief already radiating off him despite his calmness. “You just look after David, alright?” he said finally. “He was always Mum’s favourite.” He said goodbye and hung up, still pacing, not looking at me. “Your Mom?” “She’s dead,” he said briefly. “It was a heart attack, just a couple of hours ago.” I felt my throat tighten up. “I’m sorry.” He was silent. “Is there going to be a funeral?” “Wednesday. Somebody’s got to figure out what to do with Dad, too.” He’d never told me about his parents before, and I wondered why not, why I hadn’t even asked. Maybe in not having any of my own I’d grown up not realising a need for them. Parents weren’t something I thought about. “What about your father?” “He’s got altzeihmers.” He moved restlessly. “Mum was doing okay keeping him under control, but only just. Unless Beth or Suz can take him or we can organise some sort of home care...” He kicked at the wall, annoyed. “I’m not putting Dad in a nursing home!” I didn’t know whether to offer my comfort or just let him work the grief and anger out himself. I felt it was somehow my duty to do the first, but had no idea how to go about it, whether I’d just be rejected. But he seemed to work it out himself, dropping down before the couch and resting his chin on my knees, staring at Ebony’s face. I ran my fingers through his hair, silently pleading for him to help me help him. “Grae -” I began, but he pushed away from me, standing. He grabbed his jacket and keys and headed toward the door. I knew where he was going. “I don’t want you to go tonight,” I stated. He stopped and I continued, trying to be firm but gentle, “Going to a bar and getting smashed isn’t going to help you feel any better.” He turned to look at me, car keys in hand, expression sour. I slid Ebony off my lap and moved purposefully toward Graham, taking the keys from his hand and easing off his jacket for him. “You owe it to your Mom to at least act your age.” “Bloody hell, what do you know?” He pushed me away again, running fingers through his hair til the going-silver strands stood up at all angles. I sighed, defeated. “Sit down. I’ll pour you a drink.” I didn’t keep much liquor at my place, particularly since Ebony had moved in. All I could offer him was scotch, which he downed without blinking, brushing the glass aside. His anger had evaporated and he sat as if numbed to the world around him, head in one hand. “Better?” He nodded, preoccupied. I waited for him to drag himself out of absorption, knowing that he would in good time. “I want to take Ebony over there,” he spoke up. “Home with me.” “To Australia?” I was surprised, a little puzzled. “For the funeral. I know she needs stability and all that, but a change will do her good.” He was rubbing his eyes as if tired. “Are you going to come, too?” “Why wouldn’t I?” He shrugged. “You do your own thing, Jacqui. I don’t expect you to want to suffer through my family.” “Don’t you even allow for the possibility that I might want to be there with you?” I demanded, a little annoyed, but still puzzled as much as anything else. “I’m your wife, Grae.” I tried to keep my tone light, as if I was only teasing. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” “That’s right.” He still sounded preoccupied. “I forgot.” I was frustrated. I knew he was shaken by the news of his mother’s death, but how was it that I was such a low priority to him, something he only recalled when reminded? I reached to lift up Ebony and carry her in to bed. She slept heavily, not waking as I changed her into her pajamas. Grae always let her stay up late and she inevitably fell asleep watching TV or listening to us play piano or talk or argue or cuddle. I’d tried to put my foot down about it but tonight in particular he’d been unmoveable. “It’s Christmas *Eve*,” he’d protested. He was still sitting there in that numb-to-the-world way when I returned. I climbed onto the couch beside him, tucking my feet under me. “Please don’t just pretend I’m not here,” I begged quietly. He shook his head, half-shrugging. “Grae...” “Bloody hell!” he exploded. He stood, hands to his head as if an enormous pain were blossoming there. “Bloody hell...” he repeated. A hopelessness was overtaking the anger in his voice and he half stumbled, sinking to the floor, drawing in a sobbing breath. I moved forward, wanting to comfort him, but he pushed me away when I tried to touch him. I tried a second time, but he pushed me away again, more violently than the first time. I gave up and simply stood beside him, arms folded as I watched him grieve, loud, tearless sobs. Finally he quietened and I crouched down, close but not touching. “I want to be there with you, Grae. If you don’t want me to go with you to Australia, that’s fine. You can just take Ebony. But if the only reason you’re pushing me away is because you think that’s what I want, then you’re wrong.” There was no response. I left the room to get myself ready for bed, questions buzzing so loudly in my mind it was almost deafening. Checking on him only five minutes later I found him in Ebony’s room, kneeling beside the bed, his face buried in the covers near her extended hand. “Grae?” I reached out a hand to him and he took it, letting me tug him to his feet. He looked like a child, scared and hurt and unhappy. “I do love you,” I told him quietly. He nodded, and in a move that surprised me he slumped against me in an awkward hug, exhaling shakily. I held him tightly, trying to not feel so strange in the embrace. It wasn’t the first time I’d ever been the comforter, certainly, but I was unused to his vulnerability. Just as he had been unused to mine, I guessed. He drew away from me. “I want you to be there,” he said quietly, eyes to the ground as he took my hands. I squeezed them gently. “I will be,” I promised. I drew him closer to kiss his forehead, then released him, sighing at his frown. “I’ll book our flights.” - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - It was the same thing we’d done every Christmas Eve when we were young, a tradition reborn with the newer generation: a big dinner followed by bonbons and my mom’s special rumballs and every other sort of sickeningly sweet delicacy imaginable, some horsing around in the snow, if there was any, a walk around the neighbourhood to admire the often exorbitant displays in the neighbour’s front yards and on their roofs. And then back to the house for some eggnog around the fire and stories of Christmases of when we were kids, inevitably embarrassing, and finally all piling into the car for the drive to midnight mass. Bill and Tara had gone to stay with her family in Philadelphia over Christmas, at least, and I knew that was a relief for Mulder. It meant that the numbers were down from usual, just Mom and me and Mulder and the kids and Charlie’s family, but you wouldn’t have guessed from the racket that was made throughout the evening. Astrid and Josh managed to cajole us into giving them each one gift early, and I headed upstairs to fetch them, reluctantly leaving Mulder who had been playing with Erin on the floor, he on all fours and she crawling after him, giggling when he let her catch him and lifted her high up in the air. It was a heartbreakingly sweet scene to behold. I was deliberating over which gift to first give to Astrid when my celphone rang. I grabbed it up, holding it between ear and shoulder as I held a wrapped object in each hand, one a bulky book and CD package she’d been begging for for months, the other smaller and more compact. “Hello?” “Dana, it’s me.” Jacqueline sounded strained, and I prayed that she wouldn’t be want to talk long. It was Christmas Eve and I was relaxed and happy. As callous as it sounded, I didn’t want to deal with any problems or emotions she was experiencing. “Dana?” “Yeah, I’m here. What is it?” “Grae’s Mom passed away this morning. We’re flying out tonight to be there for the funeral.” I was surprised by the suddenness of it and a little chilled. In all likelihood, Graham’s mother would be younger than my own. “To Australia? All three of you?” “Yep.” Jacqui drew a shaky breath. “Kinda scary. I’ve never gone overseas before. And Grae’s got some things to work out about his Dad and the property and everything. We could be over there for a while.” For a long time I’d been wishing for something that would give us some breathing room from Jacqueline but now I regretted those thoughts. I could sense Jacqui’s apprehension and wished there was something I could do to ease it, felt guilty as if somehow this were my fault. “You never know.” I tried to sound optimistic. “This might be beneficial for all of you. A different environment for Ebony, an opportunity for all of you to settle into family life.” “I hope so,” Jacqui said wistfully. I heard a voice in the background and Jacqui covered the receiver for a moment, her response muffled. “Sorry,” she said to me. “Listen, Dana, we’ve got to get going.” “Right now? But it’s Christmas Eve...” “I know,” she sounded wry. “We’re going to miss Christmas Day, too, thanks to time zones.” “You can’t stop past here to say goodbye?” I asked, thinking of the stack of presents for them sitting in our car. “I don’t know if that would be such a great idea, Dana.” Still the wry tone, but not managing so well to disguise the apprehension and emotion in her voice. “I’m not so great at goodbyes, you know. I think I’d rather just avoid the whole scene. Just tell the kids I’ll be in touch, ‘kay?” “Yeah, okay,” I agreed unwillingly, even though in my heart I knew I also would rather not have to go through saying goodbye. “Take care of yourself, Jacqui.” “You too. And Merry Christmas.” She hung up, leaving me with the oddest feeling of absurdity and empathy, an emptiness, somehow, as if I’d just lost something important, lost people who were an integral part to my life. I tossed the phone back on the bedside table and tried to return my attention to the gifts I still held. I chose the larger one, returning the wrapped jewellry box to the bag of presents tucked under the edge of the bed. The gift, a small crucifix on a gold chain not dissimilar to my own, was one too personal to present to her in front of the family, too meaningful to give to her when we were all in such high spirits. I would present it to her later in the night, maybe, find a special moment. “Hey, Scully?” Mulder stood in the doorway, Erin bouncing up and down in his casual grip. “I came up to see what was taking you so long.” “Jacqui rang,” I admitted. “She and Graham have to go home to Australia for his mother’s funeral.” “Taking Ebony with them?” I nodded. He shrugged. “It’ll probably do the kid some good. Give us a break from the three of them, too.” “Yeah, you’re right,” I agreed. “You don’t sound so enthusastic,” he observed. I shrugged. “I guess I’ll miss them, that’s all.” He came closer, sliding his free arm around my waist and squeezing gently. “Cheer up, Scully. It’s Christmas. Erin thinks that’s exciting, don’t you, Monkey?” He grinned at her and she gurgled. I couldn’t help but smile. We went downstairs together and Astrid and Josh flew at us, demanding their presents. Charlie, bouncing the basketball he’d given his son for Christmas, challenged Mulder to a game of one-on-one on the driveway. I guess little brothers never do grow up. Mulder agreed easily, passing Erin to me, but I caught his arm to stop him. “Mulder,” I protested. “You were shot in the chest barely a month ago!” And if he hurt himself again now, he wouldn’t be able to pass the FBI physical next week to return to active duty. “I’ll take it easy,” he promised me. He grinned. “C’mon, your brother’s dying to let me shatter his ego.” And it was true, I had to admit. Charlie’s ego did sometimes grow to obscene proportions. “Just don’t push yourself,” I warned Mulder. “No machoistic self-sacrifice, okay?” He nodded, snatching the basketball from Charlie who was spinning it on his fingertip. Showoff. “And only one game!” I called after them as they jogged out, Charlie trying to get his ball back. I wouldn’t be surprised if next they started wrestling each other. I busied myself with the kids, playing a game of ‘Sneakers’ with them, andI ‘d just taken Erin upstairs again to change her, when I heard the front door open and close again, and heavy stomping footsteps. I recognised the footsteps immediately - Charlie, the sore loser. I chuckled to myself, turning back to finish fixing up the clean diaper. “Hey, Scully?! Dayyyyyyna...” I did Erin’s red Christmas-motif overalls back up and picked her up. I moved to the window and threw up the sash, poking my head out and looking down. “Sounds like you made Charlie mad!” I called down at him, teasing. Standing on the thinly snow-coated driveway with the ball under one arm, Mulder grinned up at me. “I wasn’t even trying,” he called back. He gestured, still grinning. “Come down, I want to see if his sister’s any better.” “It’s starting to snow, Mulder!” I protested. “You afraid of a little snow, Scully?” he challenged. He pouted at me. “You can make it my Christmas present,” he called playfully. I rolled my eyes, amused. “Be right there,” I promised, not knowing why I was letting him talk me out of my common sense. I drew back and slid the window closed again, putting Erin down on the bed as I pulled on my joggers. “Daddy’s very silly, isn’t he?” I asked her rhetorically. I smiled at her and she giggled. I felt as if I were again teenager running to greet my first date as I hightailed it down the stairs, passing Erin over to Mom. “Playing basketball with Mulder,” I explained sheepishly. She smiled knowingly. “Show him what we Scully women can do.” Mulder was shooting hoops from the end of the driveway and grinned when he saw me. I was flushed with excitement and a surge of affection for him ran through me as he came closer, tossing me the ball with that inescapable grin. “I’ll give you a head start,” he deadpanned. I grinned at the challenge. “You’re not one of those people who think shorties can’t play basketball, are you?” He moved even closer to me. Usually my heels gave me enough height that I reached his shoulders, but without them I only reached mid-chest. I laughed at his attempt to intimidate me and twisted to dash past him before he could get the ball off me. I shot and surprised both of us when it went through, nothing but net. It had been quite a while since I’d played basketball. Mulder leaped up to grab the rebound and dribbled it past me to shoot from the edge of the driveway. It bounced around the rim but then bounced out. I reached to bat it away but he beat me, grabbing it and dribbling around me, just out of my reach, teasing. I tried to bat it away from him as he bounced it, but my celebration at succeeding to get it was cut short when he grabbed me around the waist from behind, trying to wrangle the ball from my grip. “Hey!” I protested, giggling as he very deliberately tickled me. “No fair!!” He managed to push the ball from my hands but made no attempt to go after it as it rolled along and embedded itself in a shrug along the edge of the drive. Instead, he drew me closer against him, his arms around me firmly, affectionately, his breath warm on the back of my bare neck in the icy air. “Smart is sexy,” he murmured. “But sporty is sexy too.” I grinned, twisting in his grip so that I was facing him. I brought my hands to his cheeks. His skin was cold, near frozen. I was about to suggest we go inside and get warmed up when he dipped his head to kiss me, and all such thoughts vanished from mind. Then he released me, diving for the ball as if it had never happened. “Hey, Scully?” Slam dunking, he didn’t even look at me. I stood, arms folded to preserve what little body heat I had left. I was beginning to really feel how cold it was. “Yeah?” “When we get our own place, we’re going to put up a basketball hoop, aren’t we?” Our own place. It was something we’d been talking about since before Erin was born; a bigger apartment so that the kids could get their own rooms, we could finally move Erin out of ours. But we hadn’t ever discussed a house. “You want to move into a house, Mulder?” I wondered aloud, a little amused. “White picket fence and all,” he agreed. He turned to grin at me, as if to say: Another step closer to that ‘normal life’ of yours. He bounced the ball, beckoning me closer. “Come on, we’re not done here yet.” “Mulder, it’s cold. The last thing we need is you catching pnemonia.” “Do I look like I’m going to catch pnemonia?” he demanded playfully. He added, wheedling, “First to ten.” I held out. “Then we go inside and warm up in front of the fire?” “Ten more minutes, that’s all,” he promised. “Ten whole minutes?” I grinned, grabbing the basketball from him and shooting. The ball bounced off the backboard and dropped neatly through the net. “In that case, we’d better make it first to twenty.” fin.