Title: The Family G-Man Season Two - chapters 11-22
Authors: Neoxphile and FelineFemme
Feedback: Feedback: neoxphile@aol.com, be8opcat1013@yahoo.com
Rating: mostly R with NC-17 moments
Spoilers: Seasons 1-9
Category: Alternate Reality, Snark, Family Fic, plus a dollop Angst
for the beginning (and despite what chapter one leads you to believe,
this is *not* a character death story)
Disclaimer: So yeah, we're going to be borrowing CC's characters, and
the idea behind "The Family Man," which put a twist on "It's a Wonderful Life" 
which blatantly copied "A Christmas Carol." We hope the print doesn't get
blurry from being a copy of a copy of...

Website: with pictures! http://www.mulderscreek.com/familygman.html

Summary: In season two Krycek borrows more trouble than he bargins for, 
and Mulder and Scully embark on a grand new adventure: parenthood. 
Baby's first case is soon followed by others.

~*~*~
Season Two - chapters 11-22
~*~*~

Chapter Eleven

July 1994

Scully beats Mulder home, since her forensics class got out a little
early, and takes a nap on the couch. It's already dark when Mulder
comes home, and she sits up just as he walks through the door. The
lights are still off.

"You know, Mulder, from...from back there, you look like him."

"Him?"

"Deep Throat." She blinks as he turns on the living room light.

Mulder sighs. "He's dead, Scully. I attended his funeral at Arlington
through eight-power binoculars from a thousand yards away. "

"Are you ok?" Her voice is filled with concern, because the flat
sound of his voice frightens her.

He nods. "Just a bad day, that's all. You know they've got me on
electronic surveillance. White-bread cases, bank fraud, insurance
fraud, health care swindles. I hate it." All day he's been wondering
if there's any point to going on. Maybe he should have left the
X-files behind him the first time around. Maybe it wasn't fair to
continue now that he and Scully were going to have a family; God
knows William suffered for their involvement in the X-files after his
birth. The maybes have haunted his entire day.

"Mulder, I know that you feel...frustrated that without the bureau's
resources, it's impossible for you to continue..."

"No, it..."

"Well, what then? When the bureau first shut us down, you said that
we would go on for as long as the truth was out there. But I no
longer feel that from you."
 
"Have you ever been to San Diego? "

"Yeah."

"Did you check out the Palomar observatory? "

"No."

"From 1948 until recently, it was the largest telescope in the world.
The idea and design came from a brilliant and wealthy astronomer
named George Ellery Hale. Actually, the idea was presented to Hale
one night. While he was playing billiards, an elf climbed in his
window and told him to get money from the Rockefeller Foundation for
a telescope," Mulder explains, his face expressionless.

"...and you're worried that all your life, you've been seeing elves?"
 
"In my case...little green men."

"But, Mulder...they're gray, you've said so yourself. During your
time with the X-Files, you've seen so much, how could it all be just
in your mind? Our minds, I've seen them too."

"That's just the point. Seeing is not enough, I should have something
to hold onto. Some solid evidence. I learned that from you. "

"Your sister's abduction, you've held onto that. "

"I'm beginning to wonder if...if that ever even happened."

"Mulder, even if George Hale only saw elves in his mind, the
telescope still got built. Don't give up. And next time..."

It's all he can do not to sigh. He made her believe, so now he has
to go on. Maybe things will turn out better this time around, his
thoughts brighten, at least this time there's no doubt in his mind
that Scully is behind him all the way.

"You're right. I can't let one bad day get me down."

"That's the spirit!" She grins at him. "Now that you're feeling
better, what do you say to us doing a little grocery shopping? Rocky
Road ice cream has been calling my name all day."

"Why sure, just let me warm up the car, Miss Daisy."

"You are asking for it, Mulder," Scully threatens, and begins to
contemplate which of his ticklish spots to attack.

~*~*~

Though he realizes that Scully will probably be fuming when she finds
out, he steals her car keys when he sneaks off to the airport before
she wakes up. In their place he left a note telling her not to worry,
but he knows she will. At least with no keys she'll be slower in her
efforts to find him, which is what he wants. The last thing he wants
is her in the truck during the get-away he knows is coming; she
probably won't fit under the dashboard this time. Not only that, he
changes his computer's password to "luvmy1stbrn"knowing it's
something she'd never think of while trying to use the computer to
figure out where he went. By the time he boards his plane, he's
pretty sure that she'll be safe at home until he returns. Pissed, but
safe. Lingering doubts still prompt him to buy a roll of Tums in the
gift shop, however.

Now, in the Astronomy & Ionosphere Center, he's still puzzled as to
why the machines are lit up despite the power being off. However,
it's no surprise when he realizes he's not alone. This time he knocks
on the bathroom door from a safe distance, so he's less likely have
something heaved at his head.

"Necesitas ayudar?" he calls for good measure, hoping an offer of
help isn't perceived as threatening.

The door opens slowly, an a timid looking man blinks and comes out.
"No me lastime!" he demands.

"I won't hurt you," Mulder assures him, but the other man looks
dubious. "Who are you? Who are you? What are you doing here?"

The man looks blank, and Mulder figures he's pretended to think he
might speak English long enough. "Que es tu nombre?" he asks,
although he already knows his name.

"Me llamo Jorge Concepcion."

~*~*~

Things go better this time, mostly because he knows more Spanish now.
At least until storm starts and the voyager message plays.

"Son ellos! Han regresaron!" Jorge shouts, telling Mulder that the
aliens are back.

"It's just a tape machine, Jorge!" Jorge is unconvinced, and tells
Mulder that they need to leave immediately. "Where are we going to
go?" Mulder asks. "There's a storm outside."

Jorge is wild with fear, and he resists Mulder's attempts to keep him
in the building. "No Jorge! Es peligroso! Usted morirá afuera!"

Despite Mulder's proclamation that it's dangerous and Jorge will die
outside, the man bolts. Gritting his teeth, he follows Jorge out into
the storm, wishing he could ask Elsbeth why some people can be saved,
and others seem determined to meet their deaths.

He makes a half-hearted attempt to call for him, but he's sure it's
too late. Jorge's body is where he expects it to be, and he still
looks frightened to death. As frightened as Mulder knows he'll feel
when "They" return in just a short while.

~*~*~

When Mulder comes to on the floor, he thinks he hears Scully calling
his name. Groaning in despair, he opens his eyes. No one is there.
Not Scully, not the alien he thought he saw before he passed
out...he's completely alone, except for the machines.

Grimacing, he stumbles over to Jorge's body. "I'm sorry, pal," he
says as he takes the first aid kit off the wall. Pulling out one of
his ever-present baggies, he uses the kit's scissors to snip a few of
the man's hairs, and clips all of his finger nails. Though he knows
they're less likely to provide any sort of definitive proof of what
killed him than a skin sample would, he can't bring himself to hack
at the man's body. Even if he could stomach it, there's no way to
keep the sample cool...hopefully there will be cells under his nails,
if he made any attempt to defend himself.

Without Scully there to delay him, he takes the time to gather up the
printouts he'd been fooling with before his impromptu nap. He takes
the reel anyway, even though it will probably still be blank.
Glancing at his watch, he leaves the building five minutes before the
Blue Berets Crash Retrieval Team. His five-minute lead gives him a
gunfire free escape.

Although there's hell to pay when he gets home. Even though Scully
won't admit that she tried unsuccessfully to break into his computer,
she does rant a while about her keys, and doesn't accept his story of
having grabbed them "by mistake."

As bad as it is to be defenseless in that sort of argument, he's
blissful about the fact that he managed to keep her away from the
line of fire. This time.

~*~*~

A Week Later...

Mulder crumples up the report he got on Jorge's hair and nail samples
and tosses it in the garbage. It goes in on the first try.

"What was that?" Scully asks, having walked in time to witness its
perfect arch into the can.

"Nothing."

"It can't be nothing, or you wouldn't have been able to throw it,"
Scully teases.

"Close enough to nothing to count," Mulder replies. The tape was also
blank, but at least this time he's got the print out, not that he has
any idea how to interpret it.

"Well...make sure you empty the trash before the 'nothing'
overflows."

Mulder smirks and thinks of making a wise crack about her not being
able to see the can past her feet, but thinks better of it. "No
problem."

~*~*~

Chapter Twelve 

Summer 1994

On a balmy late July afternoon, Mulder, morose, sits and rewinds the
tape, pen in hand. The man comes in from the wiretap again,
"...Waitin' here like some stupid bimbo who ain't got nothin' better
to do with her time than to sit around here waitin' for you." He
wonders if he should just pull out his gun and get it over with,
rather than having to suffer any longer.

"Agent Mulder?" a familiar voice asks.

"Yeah?" Mulder looks up. Damn. Wonder if I could plead self-defense.
Maybe knowledge of premeditated on his part...nah. Damn.

He looks weird, and then Mulder remembers the guy's not in his
trademark black leather jacket but a regular FBI-approved suit and
tie. "It's your 302. Assistant Director Skinner just approved it."
Krycek hands him the folder file.

Duh, Mulder's about to retort, but having prior knowledge does not
help him in this case. In fact, he's stifling an overwhelming desire
to strangle the little prick right now, and looks down at the folder
in hand to calm himself. "There's a mistake here. There's been
another agent assigned to the case." A big, big mistake here, ladies
and gents.

"That would be me. Krycek, Alex Krycek," the younger man says,
proffering his hand, which is ignored.

"Skinner didn't say anything about taking on a new partner," Mulder
says, not bothering to hide his displeasure.

"It wasn't Skinner. Actually, I opened the file two hours before your
request so technically, it's my case," Krycek says proudly, playing
the part of eager young agent.

Mulder plays along, for now. "So, you already talked to the police?"
he asks, knowing the answer, but lulling Krycek out.

The other man does not disappoint. "Yeah, just hung up on the officer
in charge a few minutes ago. A detective named Whorton. Turns out
Grissom called 911 to report a fire."

They play a little give and take for a couple of more minutes, and
Mulder gives him the old heave-ho. "All right, I'll tell you what, I
got a little work to finish up around here. Why don't you go down to
the motor pool and requisition us a car and I'll meet you down
there."

Krycek leaps eagerly, for once as naďve as he seems. "That's all. I
mean you don't have a problem with us working together," he asks, a
little doubtful about Mulder's intentions.

Mulder shrugs a little. "It's your party," he says, as if a little
bored.

"Well, um, I'll get the car," Krycek says, walking off with a smug
expression on his pretty face.

Gotcha, Mulder thinks, hightailing it out of there when the younger
man's out of sight.

~*~*~

Later, in Quantico's autopsy bay, Scully is placing an organ on the
weighing scale when Mulder and Krycek walk in. Mulder's admiration
for his wife swells, seeing her working above and beyond duty while
very pregnant, even as he fights off the twinge of guilt seeing her
doing so. Not like he could have stopped her, Scully would fight him
and half the bureau if she were placed on maternity leave at this
point. He wishes he could have shaken Krycek off the case altogether,
but it wouldn't do to tip his hand this early in the game, and gives
Scully a look as he asks, "Spleen or pancreas?"

"Stomach," she says, her tone almost bored, but her eyes
understanding. "I was just about to start on it."

"This is Alex Krycek. We're, uh, working the case together," he says
half-heartedly. He doesn't bother to introduce Scully, as he feels
it's self-explanatory. This is my *real* partner, my wife, the one
person in the world you are not going to mess with.

Her hands still full with Grissom's body parts, she glances up at
Krycek. There's something slick about the fresh-faced young man she
doesn't trust, with or without Mulder's hint. "Good to meet you," she
says blandly.

"You, too," he says, holding out his hand, but she ignores it. He
looks a little put out, but not surprised.

"Notice the pugilistic attitude of the corpse," she says, walking
over to the body, stained gloves waving over it. Krycek coughs, as if
it's his first time up close and personal with a corpse. She almost
smiles, wondering if she should do the brain pan trick for fun, but
decides to keep things professional. "This condition generally occurs
several hours after death. It's caused by a coagulation of muscle
proteins when the body is exposed to extremely high temperatures."

"Like fire?" Mulder questions, as if he's expected it.

She nods, but doesn't exactly disagree with him, even though it's
clear she wants to. "This degree of limb flexion is observed
exclusively in burn-related victims."

"But there was no fire." Krycek looks from the tall man to the short
redhead.

"And no epidermal burns to indicate as much but when I opened up the
skull, I found external hemorrhages, which can only be caused by
intense heat. Some how, this man suffered all of the secondary, but
none of the primary physiological signs of being in a fire." She
frowns slightly, poking through the dead man's brains curiously,
relishing the slightly green tinge the rookie's face has.

"Any theories?" Mulder asks, also enjoying himself.

"I couldn't even begin to explain what could have caused this," she
says, half-exasperated. "It's almost as if..." Her voice trails off,
going where Mulder's prompting her.

"What?" he asks, almost ready to don gloves and join her in the brain
pokes.

She looks at him, almost accusingly, as she puts to words what's
surely going on in his devious mind. "It's almost as if his body
believed that it was burning."

~*~*~

Later, after meeting with the steely black man whose moniker is the
same as his files, Mulder debates his next moves. He knows Krycek
will steal his and Scully's reports, and he knows there's no
controlling what Cole will do. He'd like to talk to Salvatore Matola
without Krycek, but that would only raise more suspicions, so,
sighing, he trudges off and proceeds to let history replay itself
without obstruction, for once.

After sharing his telepathic projection theory with Scully, which
she, as usual, verbally shrugged off, their conversation goes to
Krycek. "Sounds like your new partner's working out," she notes
without rancor.

"He's all right," Mulder replies, aware of his "new partner's
listening ears. "He could use a little more seasoning and some
wardrobe advice But he's a lot more open to extreme possibilities
than-" He grins, not missing a chance to take a dig at his wife.

"Than I was?" she asks. He can almost see her raise that infamous
eyebrow.

"Than, say, your average Quantico recruit," he finishes.

"Must be nice not having someone question your every move, poking
holes in all your theories." She smiles, saving her document and
leaning away from her computer.

He almost rolls his eyes. Please, debunk me any day, just don't make
me sit with this asshole much longer, he almost begs her. "Oh yeah,
it's--it's great. I'm surprised I put up with you so long." He grins,
playing with the ring on his finger.

She, on the other hand, does roll her eyes. "You'd better go before I
wring your neck." She smiles when he chuckles. "I'll read over this
report again and see what else I can come up with."

"Okay, love you," he says before hanging up.

Scully blinks as she hangs up. Wow, he must really hate that guy, she
thinks.

~*~*~

Scully's relieved today is a day off, she doesn't feel like she can
handle even one class today. It feels like she's been sleepwalking
lately, but doesn't want to worry Mulder. Even though she's been
sleeping her usual hours, it doesn't seem like enough, and the weight
of the child inside her is reminding her that she can't quite go
running after her husband's wild goose chases. She envies Krycek the
time spent with Mulder, even if she doesn't quite trust the man.

Still sitting at her computer, she closes her eyes for what seems
like a brief moment, then sits up, her eyes wide as she inhales
sharply. "Cole," she breathes, wondering how he got into their
apartment.

"They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall
mount up with wings as eagles," the tall black man says, still in
military fatigues. "But I'm so tired."

"How," Scully starts, then tries again, "what are you doing here?"
Her hand reaches for a gun that is not there, and she almost cries in
frustration. Of course, she's wearing a maternity gown, she doesn't
have her gun and holster strapped on like she would at work.

He smiles sadly, his eyes half-lidded with either sleep or
sleeplessness, as he approaches her, "Blessed are the children who
obey and revere their mothers, for they shall live long and
prosperous in this world." Then he places a hand on her head, and she
shudders, but that movement causes her to wake up, and she blinks in
confusion.

"What the hell just happened," she murmurs, her eyes scanning the
empty room. Dammit. I am just suffering pregnant hallucinations, she
tells herself, taking a sip of tea before resuming her search on
Gerardi. And frowns slightly, seeing the answer on the screen, then
hits the speed dial.

"Mulder," he answers.

"I think I found the Francis Gerardi you're looking for. He's a
professor of neurosurgery at Harvard," she says, keeping her voice
steady.

"Do you have his number in Boston?" he asks.

"Yes, except he's coming to New York for Grissom's funeral, tonight.
He's arriving at Bronx station on the 7:30 train." She's not going to
tell him about her dream, it would only indulge her hysterics and she
does not want to be indulged.

"Try to have a photograph waiting for us at the security desk so we
know who we're looking for, okay?" He sounds excited, relieved, and
on the chase. How she longs to be with him, but bites her lip.

"Got it," is all she says, clamping down on her desire to be on the
hunt. Then she prays for his safety, and for her mental health.

~*~*~

At the station, Mulder and Krycek split up, each with a photo of
Gerardi in hand. "What the," Mulder murmurs as he catches a glimpse
of red hair darting past, and follows it.

"Oh my God, no!" Mulder shouts, as he catches up to see Gerardi
knocking out Scully and retrieving her weapon. "Federal agent, drop
your weapon!" He fires, scattering the other commuters, who scream
and run.

"Mulder!" Krycek runs over, wondering who the hell he's shooting at,
and seeing no one to blame.

Mulder shakes off the younger man impatiently, then stares, seeing no
crumpled wife, no gun-waving old man. "Where's Gerardi?" he shouts.

Now Krycek looks like Mulder's lost it. "He's not here," he says
quietly.

"I saw him!" Mulder shouts belligerently, pushing aside the other
agent.

"Mulder!" Krycek's voice is sharp, tinged with the anger soon to
color his future conversations. "You were shouting and waving your
gun around, but Gerardi never showed."

Mulder shakes his head. "No, Gerardi was here, and so was Cole. We
just missed them," he argues. He knows if a man and a woman could
disappear just like that, it's gotta be Cole, but wonders why he saw
Scully, too.

Krycek's voice is insistent, almost oily in persuasiveness. "Mulder,
if they had been here, I would have seen it. I'm telling you Mulder,
they weren't here."

Mulder nods, then hits a couple of buttons on his cell. "Scully?"

She answers groggily, and he isn't sure whether to panic or be
relieved. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, and he can see her sitting up, forcing
herself to be coherent.

"I just woke up, but I'm fine," she says, for once honest, "what's
wrong?"

He shakes his head as if she can see it. "Just checking," he says,
already walking to the security office to check the tapes, "sorry, go
back to sleep."

She chuckles, then hangs up, the dream world claiming her as soon as
her head hits the pillow.

~*~*~

Mulder wants to talk to her about Cole's murder and his suspicions on
Krycek, but when he gets home, she's fast asleep, and he's loathe to
wake her. Instead, they end up talking the next morning at her
office, which looks like a hurricane's hit it. Subtle, Alex, real
subtle, he thinks. He watches her pacing around the room in
frustration and anger, and is thankful he's not the one to blame,
although he's ready to offer up Krycek as the sacrifice to appease
her.

"They broke into my office," she says again in disbelief. "Went
through my files, my computer...I came as soon as security called but
the report was already gone," she mutters, signing off document after
document affirming the break-in, and the poor guy with the clipboard
runs out, thankful to leave.

"Someone went through a lot of trouble stealing both our copies to
keep this a secret," Mulder agrees, wanting to do his impression of
Mr. Subliminal and say "Krycek" every third word. Sitting on her
desk, he lets her work out her anger. Trying to calm her down now
would only get her more agitated, which would probably not be good
for the baby.

Scully sighs, raking a hand through her longish red hair. "Without
that report as evidence, Skinner's not going to authorize an
investigation."

Even with it, I doubt he'd be willing to do so at this point, he
almost tells her. "He said it's never been more dangerous," he says,
changing topics.

"Skinner?" Scully frowns, pausing in mid-stride.

"No, the man who leaked us the report. The one who's been helping
us," Mulder answers, not willing to divulge more about the mystery
man, since he doesn't trust Krycek not to have bugged the office
while he was busy stealing their reports.

Crossing her arms over her belly, she says accusingly, "You actually
met with him." She feels left out, again, through no fault of her
own. Of course, secret double agents want to meet with him, he's the
one with the quest dealing with the paranormal and conspiracies, not
her. Still...

"He said that closing down the X-Files was just the beginning. That
we've never been in greater danger." He wants to hold her to him, but
she'll just misunderstand, thinking he's smothering her during her
pregnancy. ::I'll keep you safe this time, Scully,:: he promises. ::
I'll keep you safe from Duane Barry, Krycek, and the Smoking Man.::

"Do you trust him?" she asks, waking him from his reverie.

He smiles mirthlessly. "We'll see," he says, and promptly changes the
subject again. "Speaking of trust, are you finally gonna tell me what
our baby's gender is so I can think of properly humiliating names?"

She shakes her head, a long-suffering look on her face. "If anything,
I can trust you to think of some horrible names, no matter what. So
help me, if you call our child Spooky-"

"I was thinking more along the lines of Spooky, Junior." He grins,
"or Morticia if it's a girl."

And doesn't see her left hook coming, knocking him off her desk and
on to the paper-strewn floor. "That settles it, *I* am naming our
child," Scully declares in a huff, grabbing her bag and lecture
notes, heading out the door.

"I'll pass your sentiments onto whoever trashed your office," Mulder
says, rubbing his jaw as she leaves, picking himself off the floor.

"You do that," she says airily, not looking back.

::Damn, I love that woman,:: he grins ruefully, making a note to grab
an icepack before he leaves Quantico.

~*~*~

Chapter Thirteen

August 7th, 1994

It feels strange to deal with Duane Barry without Scully's influence,
but Lucy Kazdin takes it upon herself to find out the same
information that Scully had the first time, so the results are pretty
much the same. He leaves unharmed, and Duane is rushed off to the
hospital.

Later on, Mulder talks about the case with Scully. "Kazdin thought he
was insane, but I'm not so sure. Everything he said sounds like
classical signs of alien abduction."

The expression on her face says she doesn't believe that for a
second, but she doesn't argue that alien abductions don't really
happen. Instead she says, "If he was crazy, how could you tell what
really happened?"

"I'd have to get proof."

"What kind of proof?"

"Physical evidence."

"That could be really hard to get, Mulder."

"True, since he could just be crazy like Kazdin thinks." He doesn't
really believe that, but he knows that's what Scully would like to
hear.

Of course, the fact that Kazdin is likely to soon call him about just
that sort of evidence makes it much easier to pretend not to believe
the man's tale until there's proof.

~*~*~

Mulder is seated across from Scully, who is seated at her desk. She
is looking at one of the implants from Duane Barry put in a tiny
glass vial.

"This could just be a piece of shrapnel. Duane Barry did a tour of
duty in Vietnam."

"It was right where he said it would be, Scully. Along with the ones
in his gums and sinus." He points to his gums and sinus as he says
them.

" He could have felt where the shrapnel went into his body-" She
starts to say, but Mulder shakes his head. Maybe he's right, people
often don't remember the details of a traumatic injury. "You really
think that this was implanted?"

"Well, if it was, that would mean Duane Barry is telling the truth."

"Or some version of the truth," she concedes.

Mulder rubs his eye, not wanting to look directly at her in case he
gives himself away. "Look, I'll, I'll take this down to ballistics.
First thing tomorrow, then it'll be all cleared up."

"Why don't you bring it there now? Then we won't be wondering about
it all night."

"I'd really rather do it tomorrow-"

"Please, Mulder? I don't think I can take another night spent on
wasted thoughts about things that aren't even possible."

He hoped his upset didn't show. "Ok. See you as soon as I get home."

Scully kisses his cheek. "You need to shave."

Gritting his teeth, Mulder rushes to his car, hoping he'll make it
home before Duane pops by.

~*~*~

Mulder is on his way home when he hears the police APB that Duane
Barry has just escaped Jefferson Memorial Hospital. Cursing, he
pushes his the gas petal down harder, making his car lurch forward
before racing down the wet street.

~*~*~

At the sound of breaking glass, Scully freezes, the glass of milk
she's holding nearly falling from her nerveless fingers. She has just
a second to lament that she left her gun on the dresser when she
changed, before Duane Barry is in the apartment.

The water dripping from his clothes adds to his insane appearance.
"Come on, Lady..."

"Mulder!" Scully cries, hoping that Barry will think she's not alone.
She desperately wishes she wasn't.

"Come on!" Barry says, tugging her by the arm. "Wait, what?" He
stares at her belly in puzzlement. She crosses the arm he hasn't got
a hold of protectively across herself. "No one said anything to Duane
Barry about babies."

"Who told you about me at all?" she asks, hearing a car pull into the
driveway. Faint with relief, she pretends that she hasn't heard
anything but the man's raving.

"Them!"

"Them who?"

"The aliens," he says, giving her a look like she was slow. "They
made a deal with Duane Barry - if Duane Barry could give them someone
else to go in his place, they wouldn't take poor ole Duane Barry
anymore." Duane paces as he speaks.

"That does sound reasonable," Scully says. She catches Mulder's eye
as he opens the door quietly, and puts her fingers to her lips.

"But they said one person, not two people. And babies are people,"
Duane says with a frown. "They wouldn't like that."

"Probably not. Especially if they were hoping to be gone long,
because they'd have to take care of it once it was born. My baby is
due in less than two months."

"They always take Duane Barry longer than that," he mutters.

"What if we could give them someone else?" Mulder asks, finally
clueing Barry in to his presence.

"What, you want to go?" Barry asks, looking hopeful.

"No, not me. I want to be here for Scully and our baby." ::but if it
comes to me or Scully, I will go:: "I know someone might find being
taken exciting."

"Then they're crazy," Duane Barry scoffs. 

Mulder shrugs.

~*~*~

"Why don't we talk about this outside?" Mulder asks. From the
expression on Scully's face he can tell she's torn between wanting to
tell him not to, and wanting the crazy man out of the house. In the
end she doesn't say anything, which he likes to think of it as a show
of trust in him.

Once they're outside, Mulder speaks to Duane Barry in a low voice.
"The guy is kind of crazy, but he's got a major hard-on about the
idea of seeing aliens up close and personal."

"Duane Barry could tell him it's no picnic," the other man mutters.

"You could," Mulder hastily agrees. "But you shouldn't. Let him go
with them and see for himself what it's like. You know what people
are like...no one takes advice these days, they have to forge ahead
and make their own mistakes. Besides...better someone who thinks they
want that sort of experience than someone who knows he doesn't
right?"

"Sure."

"Ok." Mulder takes a pen and note pad out of his coat pocket, and
scribbles down Alex Krycek's home address. Technically it was wrong
to "borrow" his personnel file to get his address, but he thought it
could come in handy, so he'd taken the opportunity when it had
presented itself.

Duane Barry takes the scrap of paper with the desperation of a
drowning man grabbing at a lifesaver. "Duane Barry will see this man
tonight."

"Great," Mulder tells him. "He will probably tell you he doesn't want
to see the aliens, but that's just because everyone that he tells
about it thinks he's crazy, and he won't want you to think he is too.
"

"He will go." Duane Barry's eyes gleam with something Mulder would
prefer not trying to identify.

~*~*~

Scully was looking out the window as Mulder came back in. They both
hear the sound of his car drive, and breath sighs of relief.

"Mulder, what did you say to him?" Scully asks, her eyes wide.

"I just tried to convince him that he shouldn't take someone against
their will. There are a lot of people who would like to see aliens,
and he should find one of them. That way no one gets anything they
weren't looking for."

"He'll never find someone who wants to go visit 'aliens'."

"Maybe, maybe not. At least he'll have something to do that'll
distract him from his fears of being abducted, right?"

"I guess so..." But she looked doubtful.

~*~*~

It isn't until three days later that either of them find out what
Duane Barry did when he left their home. Since they're both feeling a
little casual, they're in the middle of eating dinner, seated at the
couch like millions of other Americans. A rerun of Roseanne is
reaching its comedy climax when a newscaster breaks in.

"In late breaking news, kidnapping suspect Duane Barry has just been
apprehended by state police-" Scully casts Mulder a questioning look
that he pretends not to notice. "- As we reported earlier, Barry
broke into the home of FBI agent Alex Krycek and forced him to leave
at gun-point. Agent Krycek was able to make a frantic phone call to
local police, but they arrived too late to help him."

A photo of Krycek is flashed on the screen before the newscaster
continues.

"When Barry's vehicle was searched, they found a small amount of
blood in the trunk, but officials say that they're not inclined to
believe that the missing man is dead. Though Barry will not say where
the man is being held, a search for him continues."

"Mulder, isn't Krycek the agent you worked with?"

"Um, yeah. Bad break, huh?"

"You don't sound very sorry for him," Scully accuses.

Mulder shrugs. "I don't like him, and the police seem convinced that
he's going to be found alive, so..."

Scully looks less upset, but still suspicious. "How did Duane Barry
find his house?"

"How did he find ours?" Mulder shoots back. "You weren't followed, he
must have looked up the address in a phone book or something. You
know how obsessed people are. When we buy a house, I want to get an
unlisted number," he adds.

She nods. "Do you think Krycek will be ok?"

"Probably. The aliens probably won't kill him, they'd rather use him
for genetics experiments."

"You have the most morbid mind."

"But you love it," Mulder teases. She doesn't contradict him.
 
~*~*~ 

Chapter Fourteen 
"First Page"

Tamblyn Museum of Natural History
September 21st, 1994
10:30 p.m.

::You're supposed to be born in a hospital, not in a museum::
Mulder's brain insists. Resisting the urge to take out his cell phone
and call Skinner again, he instead hits his shoulder against the door
to the gift shop. Fortunately, since they don't really expect people
already in the museum to attempt a break in, the lock is flimsy and
gives way without causing him to bruise himself too much.

He roams the small store, frantically trying to think of something
that will help in this situation. It finally dawns on him that if
there were a first aid kit, it would probably be behind the counter,
not on the shelves with the merchandise. Looking under the display
case he comes up with a large blue box. A glance inside tells him
that the most important thing, the scissors are indeed in there. He
takes the whole kit, though, stuffing it under one arm.

Looking around for other things that could be considered useful, he
spots a bin of beach towels marked "50% off" which isn't incredibly
surprising given how few people are going to the beach this end of
the month. He scoops up an armful, and for a second is glad that it's
discount merchandise that he's taking, even if the manager was the
one who suggested that he break into the gift shop.

Mulder nearly trips over his own feet in his rush to get back to
Scully. He dumps his booty on the ground and crouches down beside
her. She's gasping like a fish out of water. "Hold on, Scully, they
said that the lock smith is on his way."

Her face is contorted with pain for a few seconds, then she replies
breathlessly. "I don't think that'll be soon enough."

Mulder gulps, and hopes he's the only one that can hear it. "That's
ok. They said that a 911 dispatch person will talk me through the
delivery, if it comes to that. It'll be ok."

"It has to be."

As her labor progresses, he can't help but think that they got into
this mess because he has no script for this event to refer back to.

He thinks he remembers people calling it the "butterfly effect," a
butterfly beating its wings in Cleveland is somehow connected to an
earth quake in Japan...cutesy new-age theory or not, he's beginning
to realize that changing the past is setting of a chain reaction that
he could not really anticipate. Scully never got kidnapped, so he
didn't sleep with the vampire woman, and somehow this case landed on
his desk instead. The only thing he can't figure out is why Scully is
here.

Well, he knows that she's here because she came with him, but it just
seems so improbable to him that simply accompanying him while picked
something up would lead to her being here, instead of in a hospital
where she belongs right now.

It was a weird case to begin with, and he can't help but wonder if
karma is punishing him for messing with the natural order of things.
The museum's curator got in touch with Skinner to tell him that he
was convinced that one of the mummies in the displays was coming to
life at night. Mulder had expected that the man would offer minor
evidence, like the case being disturbed, or the mummy being in a
different position, but no. The man held this conviction because he'd
seen it moving.

~*~*~

At first Mulder was excited, since they'd never really had a case
about mummy's before, but it turned out to be an exorcise in tedium.
Three weeks worth of staking out the Egypt wing of the museum did
little to improve his mood. Scully was on maternity leave before the
case even started, so he quickly tired of not getting to see her
while they were both awake.

The case's big break came not in the Egypt wing, but in the men's
room shortly before the place closed for the night. There had been
three of them in there- Mulder and a patron at the urinals, and the
curator in one of the stalls.

Mulder and the other man were doing the typical eyes forward, don't
speak to anyone order of operations when the shrieking in the stall
began. It startled the patron so much that he peed on his shoes a
little, not that Mulder made a point of making his noticing obvious.
Zipping up quickly, they exchanged worried looks.

"The mummy! It's going to get me!" The curator's wails made them
spring into action.

"Are you ok?" The patron yelled over the din, pounding on the stall's
door.

The only response this got was another wail about the mummy.

Mulder looked around, wondering how a mummy might have gotten into
the bathroom. "We've got to get him out of there," he told the
patron.

He didn't even ask about the mummy. "But...what if his pants are
down?"

The possibility of seeing the old curator in the altogether left
Mulder horror-stricken, but he pushed that away. "We'll have to hope
for the best. This could be life or death." He declared stoically.

It took three minutes to get the stall door open, and fortunately the
curator was still fully clothed. Unfortunately he was shrieking and
shying away from the thin air.

Later on, after the paramedics took the curator away, the manager of
the museum apologized for wasting the FBI's time, specifically
Mulder's, on a case of mounting mental illness, not the paranormal.
Mulder grudgingly accepted the apology, but Skinner was less
forgiving, and decided to bill the man for the wasted hours.
Thoroughly cowed, the manager agreed to pay restitution. To Mulder's
annoyance, Skinner ordered him to collect the payment in person.

~*~*~

Which is how he and Scully got to the museum three hours ago. He'd
planned to drop by the museum quickly, and then go to the last Lamaze
class with Scully. They were the star pupils in their class, but it
didn't hurt that she was a doctor, and though she couldn't recall it,
he'd done a similar class with her once before.

Everything would have been ok if she hadn't had to pee. But she did,
so she accompanied him into the building. As they walked into the
hushed building, Mulder found himself half wondering what it would be
like to be there at a decent hour, with lots of lights and people. He
wasn't sure that he cared enough to ever find out.

The transaction was fairly quick, quicker than Scully in the
bathroom. The manager looked a little happier when he saw her, as if
thinking a person with a lovely wife and a baby on the way wasn't the
type to hold grudges. Shows what little he knew...

The three of them were on the way out when it happened. The manager
set the door to lock behind them, and he got out the door before they
did. Scully tripped over a bulge in the carpet, so Mulder paused to
grab her arm. The door swung closed just as they reached it.

Speaking to them through the door, the manager said he'd just unlock
it. Which he did. But the door didn't open. Frowning, he gave it a
couple more tries, then resorted on yanking on the door. Finally he
gave up and yelled against the glass that he was going to have to
call a locksmith, don't worry.

Mulder nodded, but he noticed that this caused Scully's already fair
skin to pale significantly. "What's wrong, Scully?"

"Remember I told you how badly my back has been aching?"

"Yes." He watched the manager talking on the phone. It was worrying
that the man's face was turning red, and he seemed to be shouting.
"Do you need another massage?"

She shook her head. "I'm pretty sure I'm in labor."

"So no Lamaze class tonight," he replied, before thinking out the
implications of their situation. "Oh no."

"Maybe the locksmith will come quickly," Scully said bravely.

But watching the red-faced man jump up and down as he screamed into
the phone, Mulder wasn't very hopeful.

~*~*~

The very upset manager wandered back to the doors a little while
later, to do some more shouting at the glass. Apparently the locks on
the museum's doors weren't just any locks, they were specially
ordered from Japan, and had hardware that most locksmiths weren't
equipped to deal with. None of the areas' locksmiths could get it
open, but one did know a man who specialized in those locks.
Unfortunately, he was in New Jersey. A few phone calls later, the
manager admitted defeat, and called on the man in NJ. He'd be there
as quickly as he could, but it would still take him hours to get
there.

It's at that point that the manager suggests Mulder raid the gift
shop.

Scully asks about the doors, but the manager explains that the museum
had them all replaced with bullet proof glass after a rash of
drive-bys, and he already called the fire department, who told him
that they didn't think they could help either.

At least the 911 dispatch person is very helpful.

The locksmith eventually does arrive and fix the locks, but by the
time he gets the door open, Mulder and Scully's daughter is already
ten minutes old. The first people through the door, besides the
nearly hysterical museum manager, are the paramedics, who load Scully
and the baby into the ambulance.

At first Mulder is panicky, assuming that they think that something
is wrong with Scully or the baby, and they're not telling him, but
one of them explains that all moms and babies go to the hospital
after emergency deliveries.

~*~*~

County General Hospital
An Hour Later

::This is more like it:: Mulder thinks approvingly, seeing Scully
tucked into a bed with clean white sheets. It's the sort of thing he
imagined all along, just with the baby in the crook of her arm having
been born here, not on the floor of a dark museum.

His heart swells, seeing Scully look so happy. When they first got to
the hospital, the doctors pushed him away so they could examine her
and the baby - although one did look up long enough to compliment him
on the neat job he'd done on the cord- but now it's just the three of
them.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like all women do after this. Sore."

He still felt anxious. "But other than that? I'm sorry that you
weren't here when you delivered-"

"You did a good job, Mulder."

"Really?"

"You were calmer than I was the first time I had to deliver a baby on
my OB rotation in med school."

He has trouble processing that, since he can't think of anything he
felt more nervous doing. "I'm glad it worked out ok. That you and the
baby are both ok." She nods. "But let's do this in the hospital next
time," he adds with a grin.

"Next time?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

Grinning at her, Mulder looks down at the baby. The little girl has
almost no hair, and she doesn't look like anyone he's ever seen
before, but he's sure that tomorrow will bring a barrage of "she
looks just like you!" comments to both of them from the well-meaning.
Actually, she does remind him a little of his grandpa Mulder...

"I think Missy and Mom are a little put out that I don't want them to
come until morning," Scully tells him.

"If they don't like it, I'll tell them that you and Page need your
sleep. Today was a big day for both of you, and you're tired out. No
one will get past me," Mulder threatens jokingly. Page opens her
mouth to yawn, as if to empathize his point.

"My hero," Scully murmurs with a sleepy smile.

Mulder watches them sleep, tired himself. Little Page, the beginning
of a brand new chapter in their lives, he muses, but he promises to
never tell anyone he ever had such a silly thought.

~*~*~

Chapter Fifteen

November 2nd, 1994
3:13 a.m.

His eyes still closed, Mulder picks up his cell on the first ring.
It's a talent he's developed, especially in light of Page's
near-nonstop overnight cries and Scully's zombie-like development.
Already walking out the bedroom, he's ready to curse the caller out,
even if it is important. "Yeah?" he mutters groggily.

A familiar voice, that of his new informant, isn't amused. "Mulder,"
he simply says, and now Mulder's wide awake and in the bathroom.

"This better be good," Mulder says, unsure of what the news will be.

"Consider it a good news/bad news scenario," the black man tells him.

Now Mulder's curious. "What is it?"

"Krycek's in a coma at the Northeast Georgetown Medical Center."

Mulder runs a hand through his messy hair, making it stand up in
weird places. "Does anyone else know about this?" he asks after a
beat.

"If you mean the consortium, they were the ones who brought him," the
black man says, not mentioning his role in the delivery, "if you mean
the FBI and other officials, no."

Mulder exhales loudly, closing his eyes. "Much as I'd like a chance
to chat with a former partner and returned alien abductee, I don't
think Krycek would be in a talkative mood."

"You wouldn't have much time for small talk anyways, he's dying," X
says, and with that, hangs up.

Great, Mulder thinks, just great. If Alex Krycek's personnel files
are to be believed, the man has no living family, no close or casual
acquaintances, nothing to tie him down to this world. It makes for a
perfect double-agent, and a neater mess to clean up when dead. Except
he's not dead yet and no official outside of himself knows that
Krycek is lying in a hospital bed, dying of some unknown alien
experiments. "Dammit." He sighs, and that's when Page kicks up a
good-hearted wail.

~*~*~

Inside the sterile hospital room, a dark-haired man lies unconscious
on the bed, dressed in the usual hospital gown that doesn't quite
close up in the back. But it wouldn't matter, since he's not awake or
alive enough to bitch about it. A machine is doing his breathing,
other machines and tubes are making his heart beat and helping his
other organs and body parts to function. A monitor beeps, keeping in
time with the artificially-induced heartbeat and brain waves.

A man stands nearby, putting a lit cigarette to his mouth. "I'm
terribly sorry," the smoking man says after a few minutes of puffing,
"it wasn't supposed to happen this way. After Mulder, you hold the
most promise, Alex."

As the dark-haired man makes no reply either positive or negative,
the gray-haired man shakes his head, his half-lidded eyes betraying
no emotion. "You do realize that you're the first one who's enjoyed
being probed and suffering the indignities of being a sperm donor. I
shall have to speak to the doctors about that." Another puff, another
glance away. "Enjoyment does not preclude consequences, however.
You're finding that out now."

~*~*~

Mulder walks into the room and frowns when he smells smoke. Looking
around, he finds the butt of a Morley on the floor and snorts,
disgusted. Under false pretenses, or, as he puts it, charm, he's
gotten here without flashing his badge or making a scene. He wants to
keep this as low-profile as possible, especially since he has no idea
what Krycek would want, anyways.

Flipping through the coma guy's charts, he finds some familiar
anomalies and sighs. "Krycek, I hope you know what a pain in the ass
you still are," he mutters, grabbing the blank papers under the
filled-in chart papers. Against his better judgment, he's going to
bring this to the Gunmen and see if their diagnosis will come up the
same as Scully's with branched DNA. If it's different, then there's
nothing to be done. And he doesn't know whether that would be a good
thing or a bad thing.

~*~*~

Krycek is lying on a metal table, dressed in a nice white dress shirt
and slacks. He's still pretty out of it, despite a huge spotlight on
him, and doesn't notice a middle-aged couple approaching from a dark
hallway. The man is burly, his gray hair, beard and moustache neatly
trimmed, and in a business suit. The woman is plump and her dark-dyed
hair is piled on her head in a bun, the dark red dress only adding to
her matronly appearance. Her hand is on his arm when they walk in,
but seeing the sleeping man, she rushes forward with a cry.

"Aloysha!" she gasps, holding his head tightly to her ample bosom as
if that would help.

The older man sighs, watching his wife rock their son. "I wish you
hadn't followed me into the KGB, although I was so proud of you at
the time," he says sadly with a thick Russian accent. "The path you
are going will lead to an early grave, but you're not supposed to
join us now."

"My boy, my baby boy," the woman croons, her own accent as strong as
her husband's, stroking Krycek's hair. She pauses in her
ministrations as she looks up at her husband, then resumes rocking
her son. "I love you, but if you die now, I swear I will make your
afterlife a living hell." She kisses his head and gently lays him
down on the table. "You be a good boy," she says, squeezing his hand
as she leaves.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," the older man says, and his wife
socks him in the shoulder. Rubbing it, he adds, "Take care of our
grandchild, or I will join your mother in making your death a living
hell."

Satisfied, Krycek's mother nods and takes her husband's hand. The
couple turns and leaves the spotlight and their comatose son on the
table, returning to the darkness of death.

~*~*~

The next day, in the Lone Gunmen's lair, having taken the information
off the "blank" chart pages with a pencil, Byers is raising his
eyebrows at the results from the John Doe. "This is quite a patient,"
he comments, "our newest Gunman, the Thinker, reports the protein
chains are a result of branched DNA." He looks at the tall man
holding his wide-eyed baby, thinking that to be a stranger sight than
anything they've ever published in "The Magic Bullet."

Mulder frowns. "Branched DNA?" he repeats. He's not surprised, and at
the same time, he is. Page hiccups, and he pats her back a few times
as she rests on his shoulder. He and the Gunmen run through theories
and options, coming up with the same conclusions as they did when it
was Scully in the hospital. But this time, there is nothing he knows
of to tie the dying man to this world, nobody to fight for. His
ruminations are interrupted by his cell phone. "Mulder," he answers.

"Mulder," his wife says, "what the hell did you give me?"

"No STDs, as far as I know," he deadpans.

Scully sighs noisily at the other end. "No, the blood sample. Where
did you get it from?"

"An alien abductee." He grins.

He can almost hear her rolling her eyes at the other end. "Great,
well, I've found some anomalies," she says, "but nothing screaming
'alien'."

"Like branched DNA?" he asks, and he can almost hear her jaw drop.

"Mulder, whoever you've gotten this sample from," she says after
recovering her composure, "if they're not already dead, they should
be."

He nods. "I know," he says, "but I'm hoping you can find something
useful." Or something that explains why you came back from the dead
with no other side effects other than what the implants did.

~*~*~

Back at the Northeast Georgetown Medical Center, Mulder makes his way
to Krycek's room. He knows he's been sitting on this long enough, and
pulls out his cell. His thumb hitting speed dial, he opens the door,
only to find the bed is empty. "Hello?" Scully asks.

"Hey," he says, walking out to look for a nurse. "Anything on the
sample?"

"Actually, I was just going to call you about that," she says, a
little worried.

"What?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

"It's been stolen," she says flatly, absently bouncing her daughter
as she hears the start of another crying jag.

"Great, hold that depressing thought," he says, then waves a hand at
an orderly at the nurses' station. "Hey, could you tell me what
happened to the patient in Room 42?"

The orderly looks at him blankly, then ruffles through some papers.
"Oh yeah," he says finally after what seems like ages, "his dad took
him home once he opened his eyes."

He's alive, Mulder thinks as he says, "His dad?"

The orderly nods. "Yeah, smelled like an ashtray," he says. "You want
his number?"

What the hell, Mulder thinks. "Sure," he says, and somehow isn't
surprised to see the FBI's general office number listed. "Sorry," he
says to Scully's worried squawking, "John Doe just went home."

~*~*~

Chapter Sixteen

November 13th, 1994 
Late At Night

::I was wrong, and Scully was right. There is a God.:: Mulder thinks
as he peers into his daughter's crib. Page is curled up, sleeping
soundly. ::The fact that colic doesn't last is a proof of that::

Getting over the colic has transformed their little siren into a
sweet natured-cuddly infant, like those they've been observing
enviously in other people's carriages. The fact that she's gone three
entire days without any extended bouts of sleepless screaming feels
like waking up from a two-month-long nightmare.

And it's just about time too, since there's been more than one night
lately that Scully has tearfully consulted medical books, only to end
up ranting that the doctors are lying to parents, and there's nothing
that can be done to comfort the unhappy baby.

All of which only serves to make it difficult to keep himself from
telling her that maybe she went back to work too soon. But hold his
tongue he does; it took over a month for her to go back to work, and
he knows that Reyes had talked her into helping her and Doggett less
than a week after William was born, so he shouldn't complain,
especially since her going into the lab to look at Krycek's sample
was the thing that got her mind on work in the first place.

"She's an angel," Scully says, joining him.

"You've got to admit, though, for a while there we were worried that
we'd spawned a demon," he tells her with a grin.

"Yeah...thank God that not all babies get this. It's most common in
firstborns and boys."

"Just girls after this then," Mulder teases.

"Ok, but you're having the next one."

"Aww...don't you want more kids? I always envied big families like
yours."

"Brother Bill was nothing to envy," Scully snorts.

"Not a problem if we have all girls," he points out.

"I don't know, Mulder, a little boy might not be so bad." She
suddenly looks serious. "I think Bill's problem was that Dad was gone
so often. 'You look after your mom and the little ones' really went
to his head."

"Good thing I'll always be right here."

"You better be," she says fiercely, drawing him away from the crib.
He gives her a surprised look, but goes willingly enough. It's nice
to know that not all women lose desire for their husbands after a
baby.

~*~*~

"Mulderrr....Please," she pleads, something wild lurking in her eyes
as her fingers dig into his shoulders, so possessively.

But he's nervous. "Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you." He's
eager, but worried.

"It's been seven weeks. The recommendation is six," she points out.

"But that's just a guideline. Not all women are ready..." he trails
off as she slowly unzips his pants. As her warm little fingers
encircle him, he realizes that she's ready.

She gives him an impatient look as his hand reaches behind him,
groping for the night stand drawer. "What?" she asks.

"Condoms," he says thickly. ::Oh God, do I even have any that I
didn't "fix". Please please please-::

"Forget them," she tells him, giving him a squeeze that nearly
obliterates all thoughts from his mind. Nearly.

"But-"

"I'm breast feeding Page. Women use breast-feeding as birth control
all over the world, because it suppresses ovulation. We'll be safe."

If her explanation wasn't accompanied by feather light touches that
make him throb, he might come up with a better rebuttal than,
"Really?"

"I'm a doctor," she tells him, which would be more convincing if she
weren't standing there buck-naked with her hand still on his proudly
pointing member.

Convincing or not, it's only a couple of minutes before he lets the
doctor test his stamina.

~*~*~

The Next Morning

Scully wanders into the living room and notices that Mulder is having
what sounds like a heated phone conversation.

"...but Page isn't even two months old! Scully won't leave her with
anyone but her mom, who's visiting Charlie and his family for the
next two weeks, and I'm not sure that I like the idea much myself.
There has to be another solution," Mulder insists, wishing he could
see Skinner's face.

 She watches with interest as he makes a strangled sound and his face
takes on a purplish cast. It occurs to her to wonder if he's choking
on something, maybe he'd had sunflower seeds in his mouth, but he
begins to speak again. "I'm sure she'll love that solution...yes,
we'll be there, no need for threats." He slams the phone down.

"Skinner?" she asks, making him jump.

"Yes. Get this. His solution to not leaving Page with a stranger is
we can have special permission to bring her along with us. He says
she ought to get used to it when she's young, since your mother isn't
going to be at our beck and call her entire childhood." He sighs
deeply. "We can't afford a nanny, so is there anyone that you can
think of that you'd feel comfortable leaving her with? I tried to
talk him into letting just me go, but he said that there needs to be
two agents on our cases-"

Scully interrupts. "Skinner's right. We'll have to take her with us."

"Scully-"

"Like you said, we can't afford a nanny now, so this is what we'll
have to do until we can."

"Some of our cases can be dangerous," he protests.

"What better motivation to keep ourselves out of trouble?" she asks.

There's no talking her out of it, and since she'll think he's a
complete nutcase and leave him, taking Page with her, if he lets on
what kind of trouble there's brewing in their lives during the coming
years, there's nothing he can do but shut his mouth and grit his
teeth.

~*~*~

Afternoon

Special Agent Moe Bocks is waiting for them in the graveyard.

Glancing at the sleeping baby strapped to Scully's chest, his only
comment is "Couldn't get a babysitter, huh?" They shrug.

If having Page there bothers him, he doesn't let on. Instead he
launches into a spiel that Mulder remembers almost word for word. "I
got the call from Minneapolis PD, saying they wanted the FBI to come
out and have a look. Anything slightly freakazoid, that's the drill:
call Moe Bocks. As if I'm tight with all the nut cases in town. So I
shoot on down here to see what's-the-what and I'll be damned if I'm
not knocked on my butt by what they show me. Twenty two years, I've
never seen anything like it. I get one look at the corpse and I'm on
the phone to my pal Andi Schnider down at the Mutual UFO Network. You
know Andi? "

"No."

"Well, he knows you."

"Why'd you call Mufon?" Mulder asks. 

"I wanted to see if there'd been much UFO activity in the area."

"You think this grave was unearthed by aliens, Agent Bocks?" Even
Mulder looks skeptical.

"It has all the telltale markings, don't you think? I mean, according
to the literature."

"The literature?"

"Y'know. The way the hair and nails have been cut away. Sort of like
they do in cattle mutilations."

Peering down at the casket, Scully is clearly disturbed by the sight
of the body.

"I hate to disappoint you, Agent Bocks, but this doesn't look like
the work of aliens to me," Mulder tells him, enjoying being able to
demonstrate to Scully that he doesn't think all crime is alien
related.

Bocks looks disappointed. "No? How can you be sure?"

"I've seen this kind of thing before. When I was with the Violent
Crime Section. Whoever dug this up probably used a backhoe. If you
took casts of the ground in the area, you'd probably lift some clean
new tracks off the garage around here somewhere. He may work here,
but it's not likely. Though he's probably worked at a cemetery or a
mortuary at one time or another. Probably been busted before, but
you're not going to find any record of it. Not real good for business
when these stories get around."

"You're saying some human's been doing this?"

"If you want to call him that," Mulder agrees. 

"Well, don't I feel like a dumb butt."

The guy doesn't seem like a bad person and he didn't put up a fuss
about the baby, so Mulder decides to throw him a bone this time.
"Don't. This sort of thing is really uncommon. If it hadn't been for
my work on the VC I probably would have thought of aliens first too."

"Yeah...thanks." Bocks looks less embarrassed.

Scully ventures one last look into the grave, the image giving her a
cold shudder.

As they go back to their car, he asks, "You okay, Scully?" knowing
she isn't.

"Yeah...I've read about cases of desecrating the dead, but this is
the first time I've seen one." She busies herself with strapping Page
into the car seat, but clearly she's still thinking about the body.

"Nothing can prepare you for it. It's almost impossible to imagine."

"Why do they do it?" she wants to know as they settle themselves into
the front seat of the car.

"Some people collect salt and pepper shakers. The fetishist collects
dead things. Hair, fingernails...no one quite knows why. though I've
never quite understood salt and pepper shakers myself."

She gives him a curious look. "Sometimes you surprise me, Mulder."

"Why?"

"How that didn't shock you back there."

"I've prepared myself for it before we left Washington."

 "You knew it wasn't UFO related from the start?"

"I had suspected as much," he admits.

"Mulder, we flew three hours to get here. With a baby! Our plane
doesn't leave until tomorrow night. If you suspected, why-"

He pulls two tickets from his pocket. "Vikings versus Redskins, in
the Metrodome. Forty yard line, Scully. You, me and Page. I think
it's a good time for her first sporting event. With all the fans
screaming, no one will hear if she cries."

Even though he thinks it's unlikely that they'll get to this game,
either, it's a nice dream.

~*~*~

To his shock, they actually do go to the game. He's not quite sure
why, but Donnie Pfaster doesn't dig up the corpses until after the
game is over. Maybe he was sick, or had car trouble, who knows. While
it's nice to be at the game with his two best girls, it makes him
feel uneasy too, knowing that he's not the only thing that can affect
the outcome of the cases. With time restarted, anything can happen
now, perhaps. It's almost a relief when Bocks calls their hotel not
long after they get back from the game.

Other than the strange anomaly that allows them to actually catch the
game, things continue in pretty much the same way they did in
Mulder's memories, and that scares him. Things are going to happen
all over again, and he's not sure that the outcome will be the same
this time around. It had been bad, but it could have been much worse.
He doesn't get much sleep that night, as his mind races, trying to
think of how to keep Scully out of Donnie Pfaster's clutches.

~*~*~

They visit the jail, and it's all Mulder can do not to scream at
Scully and Bocks that their man is right there in a cell for
something else entirely. But he can't, not even though he wants to
more than anything.

"Mulder, can I have a minute with you?"

"Yeah."

Bocks gets the message that she wants to speak to Mulder in private.
"I'll be out front."

"I think I might better drive this investigation if I focused on the
evidence."

"What are you suggesting?"

"That I take the body back to Washington. I'd like to run it through
the fingerprint lab there. You know those guys, they can pull a
print-"

"If you're having trouble with this case, Scully, I want you to tell
me."

"I'm not having trouble, Mulder," she insists. He still doesn't
believe her.

"I'd understand, Scully. This isn't exactly easy to stomach. We'll
tell Skinner where he can stick his two-agents rule."

"I'm fine with it. Really. I just think we're a long way from
catching this guy. If we could get a print, we'd have something to go
on. Right now we're at a standstill."

He feels completely helpless. "I think it's a good idea. I just don't
want you to think you have to hide anything from me, Scully. I've
seen agents with twenty years in the field fall apart on cases like
this."

"I'm fine, Mulder. I can handle it."

"Leave Page with me, though," he says impulsively.

"Mulder, I don't know-"

"Are you suggesting I can't take care of my own daughter?" He lets
his voice rise with indignation. Better a fight than letting Scully
take their baby home.

"No! I just-"

"If you're going to be doing work in the lab, you're going to need
someone to look after her anyway, since you're not bringing her to
the morgue. I may just be doing a lot of thumb twiddling here,
anyway, so the two of us will get along fine." He addresses the baby
for affect, "won't we, Sweetie?"

"Ok," Scully agrees. She looks apprehensive, but not half as much as
he is, he's sure. At least without Page to worry about, she won't be
handicapped by her need to protect their baby from Donnie too. If he
can't make things better, at least he won't be making them worse this
way.

~*~*~

Later on, he thinks that he might have a chance to change things, but
he's foiled by her stubbornness. Though frustrated, he's hardly
surprised, it's half of what he loves about her.

He's giving Page a bottle in Bocks' office when she calls. "Hi, it's
me. We got a print."

"Scully got a print."

Bocks' is thrilled. "Fantastic!"
 
"I'm going to modem it out to you right away to see if you can run a
match."

"Are you staying on there, Scully?" ::please please please:: he tries
to send a subliminal message.

"No. I'm coming back tonight."

"Look, Scully. I know this is a pretty horrific case-"

"I'm okay with it, Mulder. You can use my help."

"Why don't you come back tomorrow? It's already late, and Page and I
are doing fine-"

"I'd really rather be with you tonight, I miss you and my baby," she
says, dashing his hopes. "Mulder? You or Agent Bocks didn't call here
looking for me earlier, did you?"

"Did you call for Agent Scully?"
 
"No."

"Okay, I'll see you when I get there."

"Why don't I pick you up at the airport?"

"Don't be silly, I can rent a car. Bye Mulder." She hangs up before
he argues any more about it.

Looking down at their daughter, he prays that everything will be ok. 

~*~*~

Eventually they figure out where Donnie Pfaster is holding Scully,
though Mulder gives into fear and recklessly makes a few "leaps" that
might seem entirely illogical. Luckily no one is paying too close
attention to how he comes to his conclusion. The ride to Pfaster's
mother's home seems to take hours.

Mulder and the other agents break the door down just in time to see
Donnie Pfaster get Scully's gun away from her.

"FEDERAL AGENTS! HANDS IN THE AIR!" Mulder shouts loud enough to make
Page cry in fear. So fixated on helping Scully, he'd forgotten that
Page was even with him.

Donnie slowly puts his hands in the air, and the other men take him
forcefully. For one second Mulder is tempted to shoot the bastard in
the head, so he'll never be able to hurt Scully again, but he knows
that'd be a jail-able offense given the other agents already have him
in cuffs. Still, his trigger finger itches. Finally, he holsters the
gun and goes to Scully.

She's dazed, as she's trying to get up. "Let's get the paramedics out
here!" he calls.

"I'm okay," she claims. 

"Just stay there, Scully."

Being Scully, she insists on getting up, Mulder helps her. "I'm fine.
Just help me get my wrists undone. How did you find me?"

"His Mother used to own the house, willed it to the sisters. I played
a hunch. A patrolman spotted the car out front."

Her wrists untied, Scully rubs them. She doesn't want to meet
Mulder's eyes. She's looking over at Donnie, who's being bound on the
floor. "Why don't you sit down until someone can take a look at you."

"Mulder, I'm fine," she says, starting to reach for Page. But,
probably sensing how shaken she still is and afraid she'd drop the
baby, she lets her arms fall to her sides.

Mulder looks at her, and tips up her chin. She, then, meets his gaze,
and that's all it takes. Her eyes well up, and she begins crying.
Mulder's holding her now, though she keeps her arms crossed in front
of herself. She, then, allows herself to hold him, to fully let her
emotions out. Scully continues to cry in Mulder's arms, while he
holds her tight and strong. They only loosen their grip when Page
squawks, probably feeling squashed.

"It's ok, you're ok," he mutters, unsure which of them he's
addressing. Maybe he's trying to reassure them all. "We're all ok
now."

Scully gives him a misty look. "I bet this isn't how you expected
Page's first case to turn out."

Shocked that she's making a joke he just lets his mouth drop. Then he
laughs until tears come to his eyes. Page just looks from one parent
to another with her still slightly unfocused baby gaze, and they
swear her look suggests that she thinks her parents have lost their
minds. That just makes them laugh harder.

~*~*~

Chapter Seventeen

November 1994

"Chaney's a legend," Mulder says on a late November afternoon,
picking up a file and hands it to his wife, who opens it and starts
flipping through pages. "Forty years before the Bureau started
profiling violent criminals, Chaney and his partner Tim Ledbetter
would work on their own time investigating what were then called
"stranger killings"- what are now called serial murders. They
disappeared while investigating three murders in Aubrey, Missouri in
1942. Chaney's body wasn't found until two days ago by local
detective, B.J. Morrow," he pauses, "a woman."

"What's your interest in this case?" she wonders, thinking the
mystery's solved.

"During their time, Chaney's and Ledbetter's ideas weren't very well
received by their peers. Using psychology to solve a crime was
something like, um..." He shrugs a little.

She grins, filling in the blank. "Believing in the paranormal?"

"Exactly." He pauses, knowing she wants something deeper, something a
little more substantial, and, dare he say, a little more paranormal
for this decades-old case, or at least a decent reason why it would
even be considered an X-File. "There's another mystery."

As usual, she bites. "Which is?" Ooh, infamous eyebrow raise. Yes!

"Well, I'd like to know why this policewoman would suddenly drive her
car into a field the size of Rhode Island and for no rhyme or reason
dig up the bones of a man who's been missing for fifty years. I mean,
unless there was a neon sign saying 'Dig Here,'" Mulder deadpans,
already knowing the answer to this particular mystery, even as he's
dangling the question for his partner.

"I guess that's why we're going to Aubrey," Scully finishes,
answering her husband's question. Even though she's feeling a little
under the weather, but there's no way she's telling him that.
Besides, her mother has already threatened to come to the Hoover
building with baby pictures of herself if she wouldn't let a proud
grandmother spend more time with her granddaughter.

He leers melodramatically, "Yes, and also I've always been intrigued
by women named B.J."

She snorts. "Intrigued by BJs, nothing, I'm pretty sure you enjoyed
it the other night," she says, sailing out the room with the x-rays
and leaving him chuckling.

~*~*~

Later, sitting in front of the computer waiting for the images to
load at the coroner's office, Scully and Mulder eat cookies
companionably, although she's a bit more ravenous than her partner.
"Mulder, I don't think B.J. was in the woods that night because of
engine failure," she says, popping another cookie in her mouth.

He answers with his mouth full, "What are you talking about?"

She gives him a look, swallowing her own mouthful before answering
with clear diction. "Well, the Motel Black would have been the
perfect meeting place - away from town, away from his wife..." his
look is unhelpfully blank, so she fills it in. "It's obvious BJ and
Tillman are having an affair."

He doesn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she's right.
"Let me guess, women's intuition?" He smirks.

She gives him a smug look right back, and is about to reply when the
computer beeps, giving them their answer from the FBI. As she's
moving things around onscreen, Detective Morrow comes in. "Agent
Mulder? Have you made any progress in the investigation?" she asks,
looking as brisk and professional as she can manage.

"Uh, we may have. It seems Agent Chaney might have been a victim of
the killer he was trying to catch. We're trying to determine if the
cuts on his ribcage spell out a word right now," he says, and they
watch the detective almost sleepwalk into the room before staggering
at something only she can see. "You all right?" he asks, worried.

"Must be something I," she begins her apology, swallowing hard.
"'Scuse me," she mumbles, fairly running out of the room.

It seems Scully's own stomach turns sympathetically, and she also
rises, although leaving with less haste, so Mulder wouldn't worry.

~*~*~

The detective is washing her mouth out as Scully empties the contents
of her own stomach. Quickly, the redhead leaves the stall as soon as
she can. "You're pregnant, too," she notes washing out her mouth,
having just come to the same conclusion about herself after adding up
her symptoms.

Detective Morrow's eyes seem a little wild, worried. "Does it show?"
she asks, her body posture signaling flight.

Scully shakes her head. "No, not yet," she says in as calm a tone as
she can manage, considering the recent queasiness of her own stomach,
her hands under the running faucet.

The longhaired woman seems to sag with relief at a fellow law
enforcement officer in somewhat the same predicament. "Now I know why
my mother only had one child. She told me about the nausea, but not
about the nightmares."

Scully brushes her hair back from her face, careful not to look at
the other woman. "Nightmares?"

The other woman seems to take her cues from the petite agent. "It's
always the same," she says, arranging her hair, "I'm in a house, it
feels familiar. There's a woman that's been hurt. There's a
mirror...I see a man's reflection. I recognize his face, but I don't
know it. What I remember most is the blood. There's a lot of blood."

"Have you talked to anyone about these nightmares?" Scully asks, not
giving away her worry that the detective might need psychiatric help.
She still hasn't told Mulder yet about seeing Cole in their
apartment, chalking it up to something like a pregnancy
hallucination. Morrow seems to be confirming her worst fears,
however.

There's a quick shake of the head, then the fingers resume tidying
the long, dark locks. "I'm sure it's something about the pregnancy,"
she says, sounding eerily like Scully's inward self-justifying voice.
"If anyone else knew I was pregnant...Brian would kill me if I told
anyone." She sounds defiant and relieved not to have to have the
burden of this knowledge alone.

"What are you going to do?" Scully asks.

Now it's the detective's turn not to look at the agent. "I don't
know," she says, leaving the restroom without another word.

Scully stares after her, knowing both the pain of being in an
extramarital affair with a coworker, and being pregnant in a
high-pressure job, but not at the same time. She sighs. At least she
has Mulder, and her family. B. J. Morrow doesn't seem to have anyone
if she's willing to confide in a perfect stranger, especially not
Tillman. And with that sobering thought, she decides to share her
suspicion about her own state with Mulder soon.

~*~*~

Scully had left on the pretense of going back to take another look at
the x-rays, to see if she can make any sense of the rib cuts, but
when Mulder's cell phone rings, he realizes that's not really where
she'd gone.

"Mulder, it's me. I'm at the e.r. at county hospital."

"Are you ok? What happened? Was there an accident?" Mulder's mind is
frantic, because this isn't supposed to be the dangerous part of this
particular case.

Hearing her take a long shuddery breath, his fear rockets up. "I'm
not hurt, Mulder. I, um, came for a blood test. To be sure."

"Of what?" he asks blankly.

"I'm pregnant." There's a lot of static on the line after that. "'amn
bridge. We'll alk when I ge bac, k thi lin breaki up."

"Ok," he replies, wondering if she can even hear him.

Sinking onto the bed, Mulder's mind seems to be filled with a lot of
static too. ::No, this is not happening! We can't have another baby
before Page is even one. And especially not now, not with the trouble
with the alien bounty hunter and the Samantha clone lurking just
around the corner. How can an unborn baby survive that sort of abuse?
I don't know if can keep Scully safe, dammit!::

He throws himself onto his back and covers his eyes. ::Safe...Page
kept Scully safe from Duane Barry, didn't she? Maybe this baby will
keep her safe too. I don't know. Or maybe the baby will force her to
take less risks, and accomplish the same thing. This could be a good
thing, perhaps.::

Getting back up, he puts on his shoes. :: If she's happy about the
baby, I'll play happy too. It's just as easy to believe that this
will turn out to be a good thing, not a bad one. Why do I have to be
so negative? Oh yeah, because I'm paranoid. But not this time. I'll
try not to be this time.::

A couple of minutes later, he leaves the hotel room, intent on buying
a bag of sunflower seeds and a quart of Rocky Road ice cream.

~*~*~

Later, in Mulder's motel room, Scully carefully makes her way through
the mess of sunflower seeds and papers on the floor. "Mulder, if you
don't learn to clean up after yourself, how will our children learn
to do that?"

"Aren't kids supposed to be messy?" he asks, grinning in the face of
danger as he casually spits out another sunflower husk on the
paper-strewn floor.

Either he's daring her to kick his ass, or he intends to remain
something like an untrained puppy or typical bachelor, whichever. She
really doesn't want to think too hard about his motivations,
especially since that'll only throw her precariously balanced
hormones into God knows where.

Sighing, she pulls out the results of her recent forage through time
and the Aubrey police archives. She proposes Cokely as the killer,
due to the recent rash of killings with his M.O., but Mulder's
inclined to choose another suspect for reasons she isn't aware of.
"Are you saying Cokely's grandson attacked B.J.?" she asks, not
bothering to hide her disbelief.

He leans forward, alight with his theory, albeit a little inelegant.
"It would make sense, Scully. Genetic traits often skip a generation.
And that would explain the test results of the blood found under
Verna Johnson's fingernails. PGM subtypes are similar among
relatives. Did Danny call back with the adoption records yet? Did you
get 'em?" He grins with a I-know-I'm-right smile, which makes her
dial faster.

"I don't think Mendel had serial killers in mind when he developed
his theory on genetics." She rolls her eyes, "And unless you can
prove that hypothesis outside of a single anomaly, that's all it is,
an anomaly, *not* God-given proof." She flicks a sunflower seed shell
at his head.

As Mulder begins his story about sunflower seeds and his father, he
looks back with twenty-twenty hindsight. Perhaps some things were
more nurture versus nature, he muses, and Dad was trying to get me to
avoid turning into a chain-smoker like a certain conspiracy-related
chimneystack.

She snorts, recalling him to her. "What does that have to do with
Cokely?" she asks, as if waiting for a line of priceless bull and
humoring him anyways.

Fine, then, he thinks childishly, "Well, on a basic cellular level,
we're the sum total of all our ancestors' biological matter. But what
if more than biological traits get passed down from generation to
generation? What if I like sunflower seeds because I'm genetically
predisposed to liking them?" and no matter what Cancer Man says, I'm
Bill Mulder's son, he thinks.

She rolls her eyes, both at the sunflower seed-chewing man on the bed
and the man at the other end of the phone putting her on hold. "But
children aren't born liking sunflower seeds. Environments shape them;
behavior patterns are taught," she says reasonably. "Traits like eye
and hair color are passed down, but I doubt our children will be born
with a fear of clowns or an inclination towards sunflower seeds."
Please, please, let them take up a less messy habit, like physics,
she prays.
 
"You're afraid of clowns?" he asks before remembering the whole
Ethan/circus debacle, and he holds his hands up in surrender to her
glare. "Okay, but you can't dispute the fact that there are countless
stories of twins separated at birth who end up in the same
occupation, marrying the same kind of people, each naming their child
Waldo."

"Waldo?" She arches that eyebrow again. Boy, is he making her give
that eyebrow a workout or what?

"Jung wrote about it when he talked about the collective unconscious.
It's genetic memory, Scully," he says earnestly.

She shakes her head, hoping to hear some sanity from Danny. Instead,
she's given a shock. Hanging up the phone, she tells her husband,
"Danny tracked down Mrs. Thibedeaux's son. He was a policeman named
Raymond Morrow."

"B.J.'s father." and of course, Mulder goes on beyond zebra in his
hunches. "She's responsible for the murders. Grab your coat, let's
go."

She stares at him, but gets her coat nonetheless. "Do you honestly
think she's capable of murder?" she asks, looking up at him.

He looks down at her. "Scully, this is what I think. I think that
Cokely's memories, his compulsions have been passed on genetically to
his granddaughter B.J. That's what's driving her to kill."

Now she looks at him like he's grown another head. "So you're saying
that B.J.'s nightmares are real? That, that she's out there killing
these women and carving "SISTER" on them?" The look on his face tells
her yes. But she refuses someone can simply go nuts for no reason,
granddaughter of a serial killer or no. There's got to be a logical
explanation for this. "Well, then how do you explain the cuts on her
own chest?" she demands.

"I can't explain everything," Mulder replies, pouting a little.
"Maybe she carved them on herself, or maybe it's some kind of weird
stigmata. Whatever it is, B.J. is not herself."

"Or perhaps it's not B.J.," she argues, but they can both tell it's a
half-hearted argument, as the evidence seems to be piling up against
the detective. Besides, Scully hates the idea that B.J.'s feeding
into the widespread-idea that pregnant women go nuts. In jobs like
theirs, they need all the respect they can scrape together. "Mulder,
wait up."

"Why?" He turns around, but seeing her fleeing into the bathroom
gives him a pretty good idea of the answer. Hoo boy.

~*~*~

Later, back at home, Scully is breastfeeding Page, her daughter held
up by a cloth sling while she types at the computer. "We are
continuing with genetic testing on Detective Morrow. Evidence
suggests the presence of a mutator gene that has activated previously
dormant genes, but the results so far are inconclusive." She sighs,
then shifts her daughter a little to make it easier for her baby and
a little more comfortable for herself.

Resuming her report, she goes on. "Detective Morrow has not
demonstrated any further physiological changes. Extensive blood work
and psychological testing has been conducted in order to determine
whether the pregnancy could have been a catalyst for the
transformation. We have yet to determine the effects on the fetus."

"Amniocentesis results show no genetic abnormalities. Chromosome
testing has determined the child's sex to be male. B.J. is on her
second week of suicide watch after an unsuccessful attempt to abort
her son. Lieutenant Tillman has petitioned to adopt the child, and
the case will soon be presented to the courts."

She looks down at the child suckling on her breast. "Will you be a
doctor like Mommy? Or will you be," she pauses, "imaginative, like
Daddy?" She makes a mental note to check on Mulder's parents,
remembering them vaguely from the wedding as reasonably sensible, if
a little cool towards each other. Her own parents, she knows, are
grounded, if somewhat nomadic, people, and misses her father
intensely with a pang of remembered loss.

I just hope they don't take after Melissa, too, she thinks suddenly,
when the phone rings. "Scully," she answers automatically. "Melissa,"
she smiles, "I was just thinking of you. No, nothing like that." She
shakes her head, thinking her sister is more incorrigible than Mulder
sometimes. "I was thinking of what Page might be like when she grows
up, and, no offense, but I hope it's not like you."

The rest of the afternoon is filled with shared remembrances, future
plans, and peals of laughter.

~*~*~

Maggie Scully's Home
December 25th, 1994

"I would have thought you'd celebrate Hanukkah, Fox," Bill Jr. says,
making Scully cringe.

Mulder, however, takes it in stride. "My mom's Protestant, so I grew
up celebrating both holidays. Hanukkah began just after Thanksgiving
this year, so I visited my dad that week to celebrate that then."
It's the first time he celebrated it in a decade, because he'd given
up acknowledging the season after his father's death. Though it's
nice that they got to do it one more time, every time he lit a
candle, he wondered if it would be the last menorah his father would
ever see.

Bill Jr. seems to relax a little. "That's good. I'm glad that
Christmas doesn't make you uncomfortable, then."

Mulder grins, and plucks Page out of Scully's lap. "Nah, it just
means more presents, doesn't it sweetie?" Page looks faintly
bewildered. Even Bill Jr. laughs at that.

Scully wanders out to the kitchen, looking for either her mother, or
something to eat. Both would suffice.

She finds both. Maggie is piling Christmas cookies onto a tray. "It's
too bad that Page can't have any," her mother says wistfully.

"I'm sure today is like any other day to her, Mom. She'll be able to
eat cookies with us next year."

"I know. Even though babies don't know any better, there's something
magical about baby's first Christmas. Maybe because they happen so
infrequently."

Scully blushes hard, and looks at her feet. "I wouldn't be so sure
about that, Mom. Next year will be baby's first Christmas too."

"You're not..?" Once the shock leaches from Maggie's face, she looks
pleased. "You are. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm not sure." Scully shrugs. "I...I was worried what you'd think,
since it's so soon."

Maggie gives her arm a squeeze. "Oh honey, you know that Bill and
Melissa are just a year apart."

"I know. But I never did figure out how you felt about it."

"I loved it. You'll love it too, you and Fox both will."

Scully grins crookedly. "I'm sure we will. If only we knew how Page
will feel about the whole deal."

Both women laugh. 

"What's going on in here?" Mulder asks suspiciously, carrying Page
over one shoulder.

"Congratulations, Fox," Maggie tells him with a knowing look.

"Oh boy," Mulder says to Page. "You're not going to help them gang up
on me when you can talk, are you?"

"Of course she will," Maggie replies.

"Then the next one better be a boy," he grumbles to their giggles.

~*~*~

Chapter Eighteen

January 3rd, 1995

Skinner looks grim, and it's all Mulder can do not to squirm in his
chair as the ex-Marine stares him down.

"Agent Mulder...I didn't say anything when you impregnated your
partner. I even bent the rules and let you continue to work together
after you married her. But this is too much."

"With all due respect, sir, I don't think there's any law that says
one must get the approval of their work place before having a second
child." ::And it's not as if I planned this! Just the last time.::

Skinner sighs deeply. "I know that, Mulder. But it does put stress on
this office, as I'm sure you're aware."

"Of course I am. But it's not as though I'm incapable of going on
without Scully in the short time she'll be out."

"Granted. But this job is very dangerous-"

"-and it's up to Scully to decide if she feels comfortable on cases
or not. You are her boss, and I'm her husband, but she's the one
living in her own body. She's the only one who can properly gage how
much stress she can deal with."

Skinner just stares at him with an angry glint in his eyes. Then he
reaches out and grabs Mulder by the shoulder, shaking him.


"Mulder?" Hearing Scully's concerned voice, Mulder opens his eyes.
"Having a nightmare?"

"Yeah, a nightmare," he says thickly. He sits up thinking the dream
was odd considering that he and Scully had already married before
Skinner came on board as their supervisor. Daytime worries about
Skinner haunt his nights. "When are we going to tell Skinner about-"
He places one hand on her still flat belly. "-this?"

She gives a helpless shrug. "I'm not sure I want to tell him right
away."

He's not sure either. "He is going to figure it out, though," he
points out.

"So we let him figure it out."

"Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"It's not, but it'll give him a shorter time to worry about it."

"That's my girl," Mulder wraps an arm around her, drawing her onto
his lap. "Always concerned with causing people as little grief as
possible."

She grins at him, but her voice is pious. "Someone has to look out
for the mental health of people like Skinner."

"Amen."

~*~*~

A half hour later Scully frowns as she looks at the prenatal vitamin
sitting in the palm of her hand. She'd hoped they were in her past,
since she hated how they had a lingering...tastes, but here they are
again. She gets a tumbler and fills it with water, swallowing it
quickly.

Once she does, she wrinkles her nose. "Mulder, the water tastes
terrible."

Mulder doesn't look up from reading in the next room. "It's tap
water, what are you expecting?"

"I'm buying bottled water when we go grocery shopping."

"None of that fancy crap for me. You're paying for the label, you
know."

"I know, but some times you have to splurge a little."

"That's what the bottled water companies want you to believe, Scully.
Next they'll be charging you for air."

"Would you rather I not buy the water, and get sick to my stomach
more often?" she asks archly, returning to the living room.

Mulder looks up from shaking a rattle for Page. "God no."

"Then shut up," she says in a sweet tone. 

"I don't think the plumbing could handle any more acidic contents
going through it without eating right through the plastic," Mulder
mutters, to himself. He thinks...until Scully glares at him. "So, um,
I'll buy a couple of gallons of water when I go to the store in a few
minutes. Do we need anything else?"

"A large pack of diapers," she says promptly. 

"For the Cue ball, got it."

"Mulder, don't call her that! Her hair is starting to grow, you
know." She sounds indignant. Page, blonde and oblivious, doesn't seem
to care that her mother has sprung to the defense of her short,
almost colorless locks.

"I know. I mean it in an endearing way, you realize," he says, giving
the baby's head a fond pat. ::I wonder if I could get away with
calling her Asbaldas? If I say it quickly...Is it any odder than
Starbuck? Hmmm.:: "Hey Scully, do you realize that it's been exactly
a year today?"

She looks blank for a second, and disappointment begins to build in
him. Does she really not remember? The date is pretty meaningful to
him.

"Wine is a dangerous thing," she says, giving the baby a fond smile.
Mulder's smile is even broader. "No wine today, though."

"No, but that wine was the best $50 I ever spent," he tells her
happily. "Look how it changed my life. How many people can say that?"

"Well, not the people at AA."

::Not my Dad either. I think we'll have to stick to drinking only on
special occasions:: he thinks as he looks for his car keys so he can
go to the store.

~*~*~

Jan 20th, 1995

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Mulder follows up
on the e-mail with the three mysterious deaths. He and Scully talked
to the federal marshal, then the ever-militant Reverend Sistrunk, and
just now, the helpful lady from " The Globe and Mail" paper. I just
hope I don't turn into an icicle this time, he muses, as Scully
interrupts his thoughts with, "I've got a bad feeling about this
case, Mulder."

You and me both, he thinks, but feigns ignorance. "What do you mean?"

She sighs, shifting Page to her other shoulder. Scully had brought
their daughter along, thinking there wasn't much to the goose chase
at first, but now it seems they are dealing with Mulder's mysterious
sources, and her motherly instinct wants to keep her daughter and
themselves safe. "Well, nothing about it makes sense. We've got three
deaths of identical victims, no bodies, a virtual non-suspect..."

He interrupts her with a grin, "Sounds like an X-File."

She holds a warning eyebrow up at the interruption. "You don't even
know who sent you that information. I mean, we've been set up
before."

Looking at a map, Mulder shoves aside the same doubts. Maybe this
time, they can save his sister. Or his cloned sister. Whatever. "If
somebody really wanted to set us up, would they give us this little
to go on? There's something bigger here, Scully. I'd be willing to
bet there are more of these guys out there."

Now her eyebrows are up in full force. "More victims?"

He's not looking at his wife, but at the map, not wanting to give
away the previous outcome of this little jaunt. Who knows, they could
change everything this time. "Unless we get to them first. The deaths
follow a pattern...New Jersey, New York, Scranton," his finger moves
on the map on each city, "And then an ad is placed here in Binghamton
looking for a man exactly like the others. The killer's moving in a
northernly direction." Then he remembers and goes back to the woman
behind the desk. "The number in the ad, would that be a voice mail?"

The woman nods. "Yes, it is."

"How would you access that?"

The woman almost smirks. "You'd start by paying the bill." Okay, so
some things haven't changed, he thinks, pulling out his wallet and
handing the ad to Scully. "Dial the number, then press twelve-thirty
six."

Scully does so, and as she listens in to the messages, she hands Page
over to Mulder. Mulder paces around a bit, even more impatiently
because he knows what's coming up next. Maybe amnesia wouldn't be so
bad, he thinks, until his wife hangs up. "There's twenty four
messages responding to the ad. The first caller has seen the man in
the photo in Syracuse," she says, taking a pen and pad out to write
it down.

Mulder nods. "That's north." Page takes that moment to soak her
father's shoulder with drool. "Page, I hope you've got money in the
bank to pay for dry cleaning. God, this is gross. Are you sure you're
not related to Tooms?" he deadpans.

Scully shakes her head and takes their daughter as he attempts to dry
off his coat. "That's what this is for, Mulder," she says smugly,
pointing to the folded waterproof cloth on her shoulder. Then she
remembers his earlier comment about more victims and the smirk
disappears. "Maybe Mom should look after Page while we check this
out."

~*~*~

When Mulder calls Agent Barrett Weiss, he remembers what happened
last time, and his tone is more urgent. "I'm heading your way with
Agent Scully. We have reason to believe a man in your area may be in
danger. His name is Doctor Aaron Baker, he's living somewhere in
Syracuse. We need you to find him and sit on him..." and frowns as he
tries to think of the most diplomatic thing to say. Difficult,
because it's not often he is diplomatic, so he says what he wants to
anyways. "This is top priority, so get some backup," he lies
smoothly, "we've already got three bodies and I'd hate to see the
body count rise," he says, ignoring his wife's curious look.

He can almost see the other man nod. "You got it. I'll call you back
with an address as soon as I track him down."

As Mulder thanks the man and hangs up, Scully frowns. "Mulder, there
are no bodies. Neither is this officially a case. Why backup?"

He shakes his head as Page starts fussing. "Call it a hunch. I don't
think we're dealing with a simple arsonist, or serial killer, for
that matter." He's grateful when she leaves it at that as they drop
their daughter off at her doting grandmother's place.

~*~*~

Despite backup, and despite all of his best intentions, Special Agent
Weiss is on an autopsy table, with other agents in serious, and
mysterious, medical condition. Scully is at her wits' end trying to
frame an argument that would even sound plausible, as well as help
the other agents in the ICU. She types in her findings at the
computer, "There's no penetrating knife or gunshot wounds. No
ligature marks or abrasions from strangulation. The toxicologocial is
clean...and the blood work," she pauses, taking a look at the
results, "shows evidence of polycythemia, excessive production of red
blood cells." She frowns, remembering what the lab doctor said about
the blood curdling like jelly. "Possibly a coagulating agent was
introduced into the body to produce the curdling effect, but it
would've shown up on the toxicological."

But that strange blood coagulation continues to bother her, and as
she opens her net connection, an e-mail message blinks at her. And
speed-dials her husband. "Mulder, it's me. Check your e-mail, there's
another scanned photograph," she pauses, taking off her reading
glasses, "and he's right here in Washington." She inhales again, then
looks at the late Agent Weiss on the table, wondering what the hell
is going on.

"I'll be right there, Scully," Mulder says at the other end of the
line, "don't move."

"I won't," she says, and reminds herself to tell Mulder about the
strange blood work once he gets there.

~*~*~

Unfortunately, she doesn't have a chance, because they meet up with
the mysterious CIA man Ambrose Chapel outside the autopsy bay. His
talk about a Soviet clone project by the name "Gregor" as well as a
Russian bounty hunter intrigues her, but she's not sure how that fits
in with Agent Weiss' mysterious death, nor the suffering of the men
in Bethesda Medical. Am I starting to draw lines where there are no
connecting dots here, she thinks, why am I starting to think like
Mulder? And with that sobering thought, her skepticism rears its
head. "What makes you think we've been contacted by these Gregors?"
she asks, folding her arms.

"Your inquiries into their deaths," Chapel responds, pulling out a
piece of newspaper, "and your response to the ad I placed." He looks
at both of them, "We're talking state-sanctioned murder. If we can
find them first, maybe the truth can be known."

Mulder doesn't blink. "Well, if we have any more leads, I'll let you
know," he says.

Chapel nods and hands them a plain business card with seven numbers.
"I'd appreciate your help," he says, and walks off.

Scully looks at the card, then at her husband. "Mulder," she starts
to say, but he drags her off.

"Let's go," Mulder says, "and hopefully, we won't have any company."
To his relief, she simply nods and follows.

~*~*~

Once they're pretty sure they've lost the CIA man, they head to
Doctor Dickens' apartment. "Doctor Dickens," Mulder says as he
knocks, "it's Agents Mulder and Scully of the FBI."

The door opens partway, and, in unison, they flash their badges. "May
we come in, Doctor Dickens?" Scully asks.

The doctor blinks nervously behind his glasses and opens the door,
letting the agents inside. "I'm sorry, I," he starts, and his eyes
widen as another shadow darkens the doorway. Quicker than a
jackrabbit, he runs across the room, and the agents are bowled over
by a seeming force of nature.

"What," Scully wheezes as she catches her breath, " Mulder?" She
looks up to see Chapel chasing after the doctor. To her astonishment,
the doctor jumps through the glass window as Chapel swears under his
breath. Stalking away, the CIA man glares malevolently at the FBI
agents, and Mulder rushes to the window. As he steps away from the
window, he asks, "You okay, Scully?" She nods as he pulls her to her
feet. "Good, because so is the good doctor."

"What?" she asks, her cell phone out and ready to call 911.

"Let's try to catch Doctor Gumby before Chapel does," he says, and
they race to the elevator and out the door.

Unfortunately, Chapel was about as quick on the uptake as they are,
and the two agents see the edge of the doctor's white jacket
disappear into an alley, followed by the CIA man. "Dammit," Mulder
sighs under his breath, forcing his long legs to sprint faster - and
running into and nearly over a car.

"Mulder!" Scully screams, automatically squinting for the hit-and-run
driver's license plate as she rushes to his side.

"Don't lose him," he wheezes, holding his side. "Go!"

She takes off in her impossibly high heels, only to see Chapel
walking wearily out of the alley. "Where is he?" she asks, only
slightly relieved to see there's no blood, nor any scent of
gunpowder.

Chapel shakes his head. "Lost him up the fire escape. I'm gonna see
if there's a roof entrance," and he glares at the redheaded agent as
if to say, It's your fault he got away.

Still not trusting him, she waits until he's gone, and walks into the
alley. No sign of any living creature bigger than a rat, and she
walks over to the fire escape ladder, then checks the dumpster next
to it. The dumpster is full of everything she didn't want to see or
smell, but no sign of Doctor Dickens. As she walks away,
disappointed, she steps in a puddle of green goo and hurriedly wipes
her shoe. She doesn't notice the green puddle bubbling and fizzing,
since she wants to check if her husband's all right.

~*~*~

"Dammit!" Scully sighs angrily, looking over the two bodies in the
autopsy bay. "I don't understand this!"

According to their blood work, they died of the same mysterious blood
coagulation, despite everything done for them. She's tired,
frustrated, and hasn't seen her daughter in three days. When Mulder
brought up Chapel's credentials, that only made her more wary of the
so-called CIA agent. She'd remembered to bring up the strange blood
work, but Mulder seemed to have tunnel vision regarding the clones
they were inadvertently killing.

She's glad that Page wasn't around to see them fight, but she wonders
if her mother's getting the wrong idea about her relationship. The
last time they talked, her mother was thinking they were on the
out-and-outs, rather than on a case. "A case that's got Skinner in a
twist and me and Mulder twisting in the wind," she mutters darkly.
"and it's not even a real case, but now six men are dead and one is
missing, possibly dead." She sighs. "What the hell is going on?"

Then she sits down heavily, and her eyes fall on the doctor's bag she
confiscated, albeit illegally, from Doctor Dickens' apartment. She
opens it up, and finds nothing. However, there's an address on the
tag that doesn't match the address of his apartment. She picks up the
phone and dials Mulder's cell. "Mulder," she says, and pauses, since
the connection seems lousy. "Where are you?"

"My dad's place," is all he says, "I gotta go."

"You're," she sputters, since his father is in Massachusetts. The
line is dead, and she hangs up. "What the hell are you doing in
Massachusetts?"

"Guess I'm on my own, then," she says, making another call to someone
more receptive. "Mom, it's me," she says, "sorry, could you hang on
to Page for one more night? Yeah, no, we're okay, I just have to
check out this lead," Scully explains without really saying much.
"Okay, love you, too. Bye."

~*~*~

In Martha's Vineyard, Mulder gets reacquainted with his father, who
has gotten reacquainted with smoking, and his mother, who is getting
reacquainted with a familiar stranger. "Who is Mom talking to?"
Mulder asks, as if by rote.

Bill Mulder doesn't notice the deadness in his son's voice. "Your
sister," he says, and watches a series of emotions flicker over the
younger man's face that he wishes were on his own. As he turns away,
Mulder races into the house, despite his knowledge of what she really
is, and his heart is still pounding. The woman has lighter brown hair
than the Samantha he remembers, but it's still long and wavy, and his
gut tightens when she says, in a calm yet unsure voice, "Fox."

He watches as his mother, in between bouts of weeping and hugging, as
if to reassure herself this is real, tells the young woman about
their family, about their search for her, about her fears and how
glad she is that Samantha is finally home. All he can do is watch,
really, since he isn't quite sure what to say, and doesn't want to
join his father in the smoke-athon outside. And he watches as the
woman calling herself Samantha alternately nods and hugs the tearful
older woman, listening attentively and answering what few questions
there are.

In the morning, after he tucks his mother in bed, Mulder finally gets
a chance to talk with his sister, reappearing after all these years.
As before, she's open, but up to a point. "I started having trouble
several years ago. It was diagnosed as free-floating anxiety. Nothing
worked for me. I hit rock bottom...until I underwent regression
hypno-therapy. And it all started coming back..." Her large eyes well
up with tears, " The abductions, the tests," and before he knows it,
he hugs her as if she's his long-lost sister. She pulls away a
little. "I'm in danger, Fox."

She looks away. "There's a man hunting my father and others like him.
My adoptive father, I mean."

He looks at her sadly. "The Gregors."

She nods. "Actually, they're what most people would call 'aliens'."
Samantha, or a clone just like her, looks at him straightforwardly
now. "A bounty hunter's been sent to kill them. You've met this man.
His lies to you have caused others like my father to die. He won't
stop until he's killed them all and anyone who tries to stop him.
He'll come for me soon."

Then he remembers. "Oh crap, Scully!"

~*~*~

Scully, in the meantime, is breaking into 3243 Edmonton Street, and
sees a lab in shambles. Squashing down that feeling of dread, she
splashes through the green liquid covering the floor, thankful that
these are only work shoes, and hoping this gunk won't eat through her
heels like that other green crud did. Then she sees a bag still
attached to some tubes and picks it up. It looks like a sea monkey,
or at least, something more human-like than the brine shrimp
advertised as sea monkeys, and starts as it moves within the bag. "Oh
my God," she breathes, and wonders if it's God or someone else she
should be commenting on.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she notices someone watching her, and
puts down the bag when she turns to see it's one of the Gregors.
"Stop right there!" she shouts, pulling out her weapon.

The Gregor turns slowly, putting a hand on the wall, which slides
away. "It's all right," he says, as three more Gregors join him from
the other side of the hidden door. "We are the last remaining. Unless
you protect us, we are already dead."

After her jaw drops, she calls for the FBI, who promptly swarm the
area, and for Mulder. She frowns when told the line is busy and to
try again. "Mulder, where are you?" she says, watching as the Gregors
are taken away to protective custody.

~*~*~

Mulder switches off his cell phone in frustration. "It won't even let
me leave a message," he complains.

"She may not be able to recognize him," Samantha says. The apartment
seems too strange, too unfamiliar, without Page, without Scully. And
Samantha's presence only serves to underline the strangeness. "He has
the ability to disguise himself."

Got that right, Mulder thinks sullenly, debating whether throwing the
phone would improve the service. "Disguise himself how?"

"As anyone," she says simply.

"Anyone. Okay." He sighs. "So how do we find this chameleon killer?"

"You can't recognize him, but I can," Samantha replies, which
ordinarily wouldn't help, but he takes some small comfort in that.

Rather than wearing a hole in the floor pacing, Mulder decides to try
another number. Please, please, please be there, he prays, and he
exhales when a female voice answers. "Hi, Maggie? This is Fox," he
says, shaking his head at his sister. "No, she's not with me, I was
hoping she was with you. No, we're fine, we're just having cell phone
problems." He runs a hand through his short hair, "No, I'll try her
on her cell again. Um, how's Page?" he asks, and his heart
constricts. "Yeah, I miss her, too. Once I get a hold of Scully,
we'll take her off your hands. Okay, bye." Mulder's hung up on a lot
of people, but Maggie Scully's one of the few he wouldn't dare not
saying "goodbye" to.

"Page?" Samantha asks.

"My daughter." ::Jeez, I remember to tell her about me and Scully
getting married, but not about Page!:: "And Scully's expecting
another baby." And now his throat is dry. Oh God, maybe she's in that
crappy motel, and his finger almost misdial as he tries her number
again. "I hope she's okay."

~*~*~

Scully is rescrewing the gas cap on her car when she sees a familiar,
tall figure loping towards her. "Mulder," she says. She doesn't know
whether to hug him or slug him, so she does neither. "Where have you
been?"

He nods. "Things have been kinda crazy," he says, when her phone
rings.

Just to show that she hasn't entirely forgiven him, she answers.
"Scully."

"Scully, it's me, where are you?" Mulder asks from the other end of
the phone. Her eyes widen slightly as she looks at the Mulder in
front of her. "Scully?"

~*~*~

Chapter Nineteen

"Where is he?" the man looking like Mulder demands when she hangs up,
grabbing Scully by the throat and shoving her against the cement pole
next to the gas pump. Then his eyes narrow. "You're pregnant."

If she wasn't so damn scared, Scully would roll her eyes at him. "Now
I *know* you're not Mulder," she hisses, clawing frantically at the
iron grip the man has. It seriously freaks her out how much like
Mulder he looks, save for the apathy in his eyes. She knows he's got
a poker face, but he'd never look at her like that, like she's an
insect that could be crushed.

Any more thoughts are wiped out as he slams her head into the pole
again, and as she slumps into unconsciousness, the man morphs into
the face and shape of an alien bounty hunter. He picks her up and
puts her into his car, and drives off.

Only twenty minutes later, and Mulder's car squeals to where Scully's
is parked. Leaping out, Mulder tries to calm the hysterical gas
attendant, despite his own fears. "So you're saying a guy looking
like me slammed this woman," he holds a photo of Scully, "into a
pole, picked her up, then drove off in his car?"

The attendant nods, still shaken. "I swear, he looks like your twin,"
he says,  "although I think there was another guy with him. Also
tall, build like a linebacker, slicked back hair. He was the guy who
hauled the lady off and drove away."

Mulder looks at Samantha, who looks as if she has been expecting
this. "Thanks," he says and walks towards his sister, the lump in the
pit of his stomach growing, to be joined by a burning anger.
Impersonating a federal agent was the least of that shape-shifting
bastard's crimes.

Inside the car, Samantha tells him, "He's going to use Scully and the
child as leverage, their lives for mine."

Once, Mulder thought, in hindsight, if he ever had the chance, he'd
willingly trade a clone's life for his partner's. But now, seeing and
hearing this flesh and blood woman, he isn't so sure. Maybe blood
really is thicker than water, at least when it comes to siblings. Or
maybe it's the fact that he's still spent much of his life and part
of this next one looking for her, that he doesn't want to give up on
her so easily. Either way, it's hard to let go, and it's just as hard
thinking the alien bounty hunter has his wife and unborn child in its
clutches. "Oh God," he mutters involuntarily.

"If only God would kill him," Samantha says mirthlessly, and Mulder
wonders if deadpan delivery is also genetic. "Unfortunately, you must
pierce the base of his skull to do it. I think."

"That would kill anyone," Mulder says, that feeling of déjŕ vu never
having left since he first laid eyes on his sister. Or his sister's
clone.

She shakes her head briefly. "He's got powers I've never seen before.
If it doesn't work, there's a chance you could die," she answers his
questioning look. "Their blood is toxic, human exposure to it is
fatal." She sighs, looking away, "I know this must sound crazy to
you...."

"The crazy thing is," Mulder also shakes his head, "it doesn't. So
how do we find him?"

Now she looks at him with those same solemn eyes. "We don't. He finds
us."

~*~*~

At the Old Memorial Bridge in Bethesda, the trade seemingly goes off
without a hitch. Aside from a couple of goose-eggs on her noggin,
Scully seems to be shaken but fine, and Mulder holds her close to
him. He watches with his heart in his mouth as Skinner and a
sharpshooter train their rifles on the man holding his sister. She's
just a clone, he tells himself, that's all. But his heart tells him
otherwise as he watches the bounty hunter get shot and drags Samantha
into the icy waters with him.

"Samantha!" he screams, running to the edge of the bridge.

He doesn't realize how far he's leaning until a pair of hands drag
him back. "Mulder," Scully says sounding panicky, "don't!"

He reluctantly allows himself to be pulled away. "She's down there,
Scully," he says, "Samantha could still be alive."

She nods, then pulls him close. "Why didn't you tell me it was your
sister?"

"I was afraid you'd try and talk me out of it," he says sadly.

"Are you sure that was your sister?" she asks quietly.

He pulls away from her. "Why?"

"I," she pauses. "There was a man who looked like you. Even talked
like you. But he wasn't you."

He says, just as quietly, "Well, it was her." Reconstituted DNA and
all, but she's my sister. He starts to walk away, even as ambulances
pull up and a Coast Guard boat makes its way over with a huge
floodlight.

"Where are you going?" Scully asks his retreating back.

"To tell my parents I lost my sister again," he says.

Dammit, Mulder, the redhead seethes inside, even as well-meaning
paramedics bundle her up into the ambulance. She could've been my
sister, too.

~*~*~

Scully opens the apartment door, hoping it was Mulder on the other
side. We shall have to get a lower peephole, she thinks as a smile
crosses her face. "Dana, honey, are you okay?" Maggie Scully
envelopes her daughter with a hug. "The hospital called-"

"I'm sorry, Mom, I'm okay." Scully hugs her mom back, "I'm fine, the
baby's fine." Her voice trails off as she takes the fussing baby from
her mother's arms. "Oh, Page," she coos, "I missed you so much." She
almost smothers her daughter, so happy and relieved to see at least
part of her family alive and okay.

"Where's Fox, I mean, Mulder?" Mrs. Scully corrects herself, seeing
nobody else.

"Mom, sit down," Scully says, walking over to the couch. "This is
going to sound incredible. I'm awake and I lived through it, but it
still seems incredible to me."

Mrs. Scully sits, an expectant and concerned look on her face. "What
is it, Dana?"

"He found his sister," she starts off, thankful to have Page in her
arms to distract her from the hard news. As she goes on, she sees her
mother's face becoming more and more distraught, and stands to make
them a pot of tea.

"I'll get that," Scully says when the phone rings. Then her face
darkens. "Are you sure you found her?"

~*~*~

Meanwhile, having dealt the news a second time to his father, Mulder
had walked away with an address in hand, hoping and praying he can
change things this time around. So far, nothing has, except for
Scully being pregnant and worrying about her this much more. Let me
do something right, he prays as he walks into the Women's Health
Services Clinic in Rockville, Maryland. "Mulder," he answers, walking
down seemingly empty sterile hallways.

"Mulder," Scully says at the other end, "They found your sister."

"I see," he says, which makes him walk that much faster. "Did they
find a second body?"

"No," she says regretfully, "Mulder, please. It's time to come home."

"I'll be there," he says, and hangs up. Just not yet. Just let me
save my sisters this time. Please, he thinks, as he sees a familiar
figure ahead and calls out, "Federal agent! Hands where I can see
them and turn around slowly!"

~*~*~

"After being treated for smoke inhalation, Agent Mulder was released
from Samaritan Hospital in satisfactory condition." Scully purses her
lips as she types, then pauses to look at the mobile spinning over
her daughter's crib. "My report on this case remains incomplete. Many
aspects continue to defy explanation including the identities of the
identical men. Agent Mulder's claim of alien origins cannot be
substantiated."

Page gurgles, she shakes her head. "Your daddy may be a nutcase, but
Mommy still loves him." She smiles at her daughter. "Mommy would love
it more if Daddy would say more than two words to her, too, you
know." Then she sighs, resuming her report.

"The man suspected in their disappearances is still at large and has
now been charged with the death of F.B.I. Special Agent Barret Weiss
and Agents Carman Licciardello and Dino Kartsanakis, whose bodies
have been quarantined at the U.S. Medical Research Institute of
Infectious Diseases. Their cause of death involved a thickening of
the blood. It is now believed that they were subjected to a virulent
strain of virus whose origin and behavior are also unexplainable. It
is my hope that further analysis of this contagion will aid in the
solution of this case."

Scully exhales, then cracks her neck before adding, "It is my hope
that further analysis of this contagion will aid in the solution of
this case." She saves her document, then goes over to her daughter's
crib. "Come on, big girl," she cooes, lifting her daughter out,
"let's go check out some dead bodies and plasma samples. You'd like
that, wouldn't you?" She smiles. Page gurgles back happily. "I knew
you would!"

~*~*~

Later, when they meet at the U.S. Medical Research Institute of
Infectious Diseases with Doctor Able Gardner, who looks somewhat
disapprovingly at the child, Scully asks, "This is a retrovirus?" She
double-checks the view in the microscope. Weird. In fact,
Mulder-weird.

"Yes, but none of us here have ever seen anything like it. Do you
recognize it?" he asks, eager in a way that he hoped she'd say no.

"Was the thickening of the agents' blood an immunological response to
the virus?" she asks, not quite willing to give him the satisfaction
yet.

Gardner walks to a computer. "Apparently. When the body's exposed to
it, it triggers a massive production of red blood cells. Now, take a
look at this." He clicks the mouse, and another picture comes up
onscreen. "We took a second culture and were able to control its
growth."

She looks at him, then at the picture. "How did you do that?"

He beams. "It was surprisingly simple. All we did was lower the
temperature by five degrees Fahrenheit. For some reason, this
retrovirus goes dormant at cold temperatures."

"I see," she says, remembering what Samantha Mulder's body looked
like minutes after it was pulled from the freezing water. "If you
find out anything else, you let me know as soon as possible," she
says, already hauling her baby girl out of the room when she sees a
man in a decontamination suit walk in.

~*~*~

After Scully reads the e-mail her erstwhile husband left her, she
swears, then remembers Page might repeat it someday, and simmers. She
confronts Skinner, even asking him to utilize "unofficial channels,"
but that came to naught. "Dammit, Mulder, stop trying to protect me,"
she glares, even as her common sense reminds her of her current
pregnancy and their small daughter. Then an idea comes to her and
turns his desk lamp on, shining it on the "x" in the window. If
Skinner isn't up to the job, she might as well be the one to contact
Mulder's contact.

She dozes off, only to be woken up by a knock at the door. Not
wanting Page to be up, she answers it, to see a well-groomed black
man in a beard and mustache at the door. "Sorry, I must have the
wrong apartment," he says, walking away.

She runs after him and grabs his trench coat as he's waiting for the
elevator. "Where is he? Dammit, we're losing time!"

He easily pulls her fingers off his clothing, "I'm sorry, you've
mistaken me for someone else," he says evenly and steps through the
open elevator doors, to watch her disappointed face disappear as they
close on her.

Scully drags her feet back to the apartment, tearing off the stupid
masking tape. "Fine, I'll try again," she mutters, dialing his cell
number and getting the same retarded voice message about not being in
the area. She's about to throw the phone at the wall when there's
another knock.

And steps back in shock when her supervisor, looking for all the
world like he's been in a street fight, leans against the frame and
tells her, "Agent Mulder took a commercial flight to Tacoma,
Washington. From there, he caught a military plane to Deadhorse,
Alaska." As she goes to the sink to get some towels and ice, he goes
on. "He used his F.B.I. credentials to charter a Rollagon all-terrain
vehicle. It's still a ten-mile hike across the ice." As she applies
an improvised ice pack to his head, he writes Mulder's coordinates to
his final destination. "Get him back, and kick his ass for me when
you do."

She smiles, reminded of her dad for some reason. "Aye, aye, sir," she
says, grabbing a cell phone and a bag of baby things at the same
time.

~*~*~

On board the submarine of dead men, Mulder comes across the man
calling himself Lieutenant Terry Wilmer. He pretends to play along,
and for the first time, wishes he brought some kind of backup with
him. ::How did I manage to stay alive all those years?:: he thinks as
he hustles the cowardly crew member ahead of him, his gun trained at
the base of the "man's" neck.

Unfortunately, things repeat themselves as "Wilmer" morphs into the
Alien Bounty Hunter, and Mulder gulps. "If I wanted to, I could've
killed you many times before," the no-neck alien declares, and
inwardly, Mulder wholeheartedly agrees.

Still, for the sake of his wife and kids, he plows on. "Where is
she?" he bellows.

As if picking up a small child, the bounty hunter hauls him up and
throws him to the floor. "Is the answer to your question worth dying
for? Is that what you want?" it asks implacably.

"Where is she?" Mulder wheezes, as if a broken record like Inigo
Montoya facing the Six-fingered Man. "Just tell me. Where is she?"
For his troubles, he's picked up and thrown again.

"She's alive," the alien lies to him. "Can you die now?"

Mulder tries his damndest to shoot the bastard in the base of his
neck, he really does, but misses, and screams as the green blood
hisses out. The bounty hunter drags him to the top and leaves him on
the ice, while Mulder continues to writhe and turn colors from the
cold and poison in his bloodstream. Just in time, he sees the wing
coming down as the sub sinks, and rolls out of the way. Then
everything goes black, even the ice, as he passes out.

~*~*~

February 4th, 1995

At Eisenhower Field's ICU, Scully types in the last of her report on
her laptop. Or what she hopes is the last. There are so many things
she wants to ask, but so many things she doesn't want to hear.
"Transfusions and an aggressive treatment with anti-viral agents have
resulted in a steady but gradual improvement in Agent Mulder's
condition. Blood tests have confirmed his exposure to the still
unidentified retrovirus whose origin remains a mystery. The search
team that found Agent Mulder has located neither the missing
submarine nor the man he was looking for." She sighs, looking down at
the man who'd go chasing after a kidnapper and killer, for what? she
wants to yell at him.

"Several aspects of this case remain unexplained, suggesting the
possibility of paranormal phenomena, but I am convinced that to
accept such conclusions is to abandon all hope of understanding the
scientific events behind them. Many of the things I have seen have
challenged my faith and my belief in an ordered universe, but this
uncertainty has only strengthened my need to know, to understand, to
apply reason to those things which seem to defy it. It was science
that isolated the retrovirus Agent Mulder was exposed to, and science
that allowed us to understand its behavior. And ultimately, it was
science that saved Agent Mulder's life." If only it would save his
sense of self-preservation, she thinks wryly, her thoughts
interrupted as he groans.

"Hey." She smiles in spite of herself. "How are you feeling?"

::Like the luckiest man alive,:: he thinks. ::Like I did something
right this time.:: "Like I got a bad case of freezer burn," he
whispers hoarsely instead. "How did I get here?"

"A naval reconnaissance squad found and choppered you to Eisenhower
Field," she says evenly. "Thanks for ditching me."

He winces as he hears her knuckles pop. "Sorry," he wheezes. "I
couldn't let you risk your life on this."

So you risk yours? she wants to yell, her fingers itching to strangle
him. But he looks sorry enough. Damn him and his puppy dog eyes. "Did
you find what you were looking for?" she asks instead.

"No." He turns away slightly. "But I found something I thought I'd
lost. Faith to keep looking." She smiles, and he smiles back, but for
an entirely different reason. Faith to keep looking for the grown-up
clones of his sister, who, unlike the Gregors, are still out there
and for now, still safe.

~*~*~

Chapter Twenty

February 14th, 1995
6:30 p.m.

Even before Scully opens her eyes, she's deep in thought, thinking
about something that has been on her mind a lot the last couple of
days.

She used to hate Valentine's day. 

When she and Missy were just little girls, they would argue every
holiday about whether or not the holiday was romantic, or stupid.
She, of course, thought the latter, but Missy - filled with the
arrogant sureness born of being two years older- would insist that it
was a day filled with love and romance. These arguments never ended
with either of them convinced of anything new.

All of which served to make her reluctant to pick Valentine's day as
their wedding day, but Mulder seemed so charmed by the idea, so she
gave in. And now it's an entire year later.

It startles her a little to hear her sister's voice. "Is she awake?"

"No...she decided she needed a nap after work. You know how tired
being pregnant makes women at the beginning." Mulder seems to be
trying to keep his voice low, but Scully can hear clearly, so they
must be in the next room.

"From observation, yes." Melissa's voice floats back. "She must enjoy
being pregnant as much as mom did to have another one so soon."

For a second Scully hears Page fussing, but before she decides to get
up it stops abruptly. "Well, I hope she doesn't hate it, anyway. I
think it's worth it, but she's the one who has to lug the little
monsters around so..."

"You're not a monster, are you Page? Nooo..." Scully smiles,
picturing her sister making faces for the baby. There's a gurgle in
reply. "I'll bring this one back by before you leave for work
tomorrow. We're going to let Daddy get on with his plans, yes we
are!"

"I really appreciate this, Missy. Now if only she stays asleep until
I'm done..."

Melissa chuckles. "I bet you'll have to wake her. If I recall,
there's few things my sister likes to do more than sleep." Scully
pouts in the dark room. "Congratulations, Fox. Who knew my little
sister would actually find her match?"

"Bye. Bye baby, be good for your auntie."

The door closes, and Scully stretches. She has no idea what Mulder
has planned, but she doesn't want to ruin it, so she curls back up,
resting her hands on her belly. It's too soon to feel anything from
inside, but it's comforting, since it reminds her that the baby is
there. Sleep soon reclaims her.

~*~*~

When she wakes up again, she sees than about an hour has passed.
She'd been having a dream, something about Mulder and the kids a
couple of years into the future. It had been strange, but kind of
nice too, so she was reluctant to let it go.

"You're awake."

"Yeah...guess I was really tired."

"That's ok." He leans down and kisses her forehead. "Why don't you
get dressed? I made dinner."

He's turning on the CD player as she comes into the room, fully
dressed.

Come to my window
Crawl inside, wait by the light
of the moon
Come to my window
I'll be home soon

"It's been a whole year, can you believe it?" He tickles her nose
with a long stem rose she didn't even know he was holding. She
smiles, but pulls away. "Do you regret that moment of insanity,
Scully?"

I would dial the numbers
Just to listen to your breath
I would stand inside my hell
And hold the hand of death
You don't know how far I'd go
To ease this precious ache
You don't know how much I'd give
Or how much I can take

Just to reach you
Just to reach you
Just to reach you

"What moment of insanity is that, Mulder?"

"Actually, I'm not sure. Maybe it's the moment you stepped into the
basement office and didn't run away screaming. Or when you visited me
a few days after New years, and didn't pull away when you could have.
Or when you said you'd marry me."

Come to my window
Crawl inside, wait by the light
of the moon
Come to my window
I'll be home soon

Keeping my eyes open
I cannot afford to sleep
Giving away promises
I know that I can't keep
Nothing fills the blackness
That has seeped into my chest
I need you in my blood
I am forsaking all the rest

She pretends to consider this for a moment. "Nope, I don't regret any
of those moments. Not a bit."

Just to reach you
Just to reach you
Oh to reach you

"Ah, I see. Then we're talking about years of insanity, then, not
just a moment. Though it obviously dove headfirst into sheer madness
a year ago."

"You're right, Mulder. I am crazy. Crazy in love." It sounds silly to
her ears as she says it, but his face lights up, so she knows it was
an okay thing to say.

"Good, since that makes two of us." He pulls a small box out of his
pocket. "This is a small thing, but I want you to always remember
that you have my heart."

Come to my window
Crawl inside, wait by the light
of the moon
Come to my window
I'll be home soon

I don't care what they think
I don't care what they say
What do they know about this
love anyway?

Inside the box is a silver necklace with a heart-shaped locket. She
fumbles with the clasp for a moment, and he takes it from her,
handing it back open. There's a tiny picture inside of the two of
them at their wedding reception. "Oh, Mulder..." Her eyes brighten
with unshed tears.

He decides that means she likes it, and he suddenly becomes
embarrassed. "Come on, let's eat before it gets cold. You know I'm
not a great chef, but I asked my mom for a few recipes than even I
can't screw up. Oh, and I got us sparkling grape juice, since we
can't have alcohol this year." The words leave his mouth in a nervous
rush.

Come...
Come to my window
I'll be home
 
Come to my window
Crawl inside, wait by the light
of the moon
Come to my window
I'll be home soon

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" she asks, throwing both arms
around his neck.

"Something terrible, I'm sure," he jokes, but she doesn't mind. She
needs to get his gift too, but it can wait. Being in his arms is what
she wants most of all.

I'll be home soon
I'll be home
I'll be home
I'm coming home

* "Come to my Window" by Melissa Etheridge

~*~*~

Late February 1995

Scully wonders what the hell she was thinking when she decided to
bring Page along for the case. Oh yes, something silly about visiting
the zoo, how that might be educational and entertaining. Yeah, sure,
right. Instead, it's become another case of "When Hysterics Attacks,"
featuring uncommunicative zookeepers, wild-eyed witnesses and now
this. I'm sorry, Page, she murmurs inside, I really wanted you to
have some fun. And once we solve the case, we'll go through the zoo
like regular tourists, she promises her child, pointing out the
animals and resisting the urge to lock Mulder up with them.

In the meantime, she really hates the way this so-called animal
liberator, Kyle Lang, is practically smirking at her, as if being a
mother makes her less of an FBI agent. Scully simmers inwardly as she
pats Page absently on the back, wondering if her husband is as
oblivious as he pretends. "Whatever Willa Ambrose's intentions, she's
too preoccupied to really know how Meecham operates." The scruffy man
folds his arms, and gives Mulder a look that infuriates the redhead.

"Preoccupied with what?" Scully asks coldly as her husband crosses
his own arms and leans back.

The activist sighs, then condescends to answer. "A lawsuit she's
fighting against the Malawi government over a lowland gorilla named
Sophie. Willa rescued her from a North African customs house ten
years ago. Raised her like a child. Now the Malawi government wants
her back." He sets his jaw, clearly unhappy with the disclosure.

"Will they win?" she asks.

The man is now on fire, in his element, baby or no baby in the room.
"This is a perfect example of man's imperialism over the animal
kingdom - this craven impulse to turn animals into objects for our
own selfish pleasure." He stalks the room, as if ready to turn the
agents into new converts.

Scully shifts Page to her other shoulder. "I thought you said she
rescued this gorilla."

Lang sneers. "Yeah, rescued her so she could spend a life behind
bars. Her obligation should have been to return the gorilla to the
wild. All animals should run free." He waves his arms to illustrate.

"Even if that means trampling a man to death?" she asks, raises her
eyebrow.

"Maybe he should have gotten out of the way," Lang answers
obstinately.

"I'm sure he would have if he'd seen it coming," Mulder says,
ignoring the question on his wife's face. "Thanks for your time, sir,
and we'll get back to you soon." On their way out, they notice a
video camera on the shelf, but say nothing until they're out of sight
and sound from the animal rights leader. "It's all happening at the
zoo, Scully." Mulder grins, and pats his daughter fondly on the head.
"Isn't that right, Page?"

Scully is not amused. "Well, we found our suspects," she says,
relieved that things are taking a turn for the better, and, who
knows, they might even have a pleasant day at the zoo. Yeah, right.

They continue exchanging theories, which quickly deteriorates into an
argument, and finally she snaps, "Fine, you know what?"

"What?" Mulder says in the same "I'm going to humor my pregnant wife"
tone he's been using for their argument. He's surprised when she
practically throws their daughter into his arms, followed by the
blanket and the bottle.

"You take Page, follow whatever insane ideas you have. I'm going to
stake out W.A.O. and get things done right."

"Scully!" He calls out, but she's already turned her back on him.
With the abrupt change of bodies, Page hiccups, then starts to cry.
"Aw, sorry, honey, Mommy just got mad at me," he says in a reassuring
voice, bouncing her in his arms. "But we'll be okay. We're gonna be
just like Batman and Robin, Page, fighting crime with the help of
some shadowy informants." His daughter looks up at him, her sobs
slowing down to a sniffly inhale. He grins, a goofy look on his face.
"The Mulder charm never fails."

He could almost swear she raised her eyebrow just like her mommy for
an instant.

~*~*~

At a local Xerox shop, Mulder opens up communication once he gets
Page settled in her baby seat. "Hey, guys, try to keep it down for
the kid's sake," he says, putting a finger to his lips as two of the
three conspiracy theorists show up onscreen.

The short balding man sighs dramatically, wiggling his fingers at the
sleeping baby. "She could've been mine," he murmurs as his compatriot
suppresses an eye roll. With a glare at the real father, he asks, "So
what are you doing in potato country, Mulder?"

"I'm in the town of Fairfield." He grins. "What do you know about
it?"

"They have a little zoo there. Lots of strange lore - animals
escaping, disappearing without a trace," Byers says in a faintly
interested tone.

Mulder leans forward. "Any idea why?"

Frohike stares at him suspiciously. "You're not far from the Mountain
Home Air Base. Major UFO hot spot."

The man in the business suit gives him a glance, then adds, "Weird
fact, Mulder. No animal at Fairfield Zoo has ever brought a pregnancy
to term."

"Not a cub or a chick," Frohike chimes in.

"The woman who runs the zoo has a gorilla that knows sign language -
supposedly with a vocabulary of 1,000 words," Byers continues, "a
remarkable accomplishment-"

His praise is cut off by Mulder's cell phone, and Frohike steps
closer to the camera. "If that's the lovely Agent Scully, let her
know I'm willing to look after Page if you're ever out of the
picture."

Mulder grins and shakes his head. "Mulder," he answers in a hushed
voice.

"Mulder, it's me. I was right. I just followed the kid from the
W.A.O. to the zoo. He's just about to make it over the fence," she
says, excited, but keeping her volume down.

"I'll be right there, Scully," he says, and hangs up. Then he shrugs
at the two Gunmen before bending down to pick up his daughter.
"Shhhh, shhhh," he says, "we gotta give Mommy some backup." Jostled
from her nap, she starts to wail wholeheartedly.

"Good luck, Mulder." Byers grins and Frohike merely shakes his head
as they sign off.

"Yeah," Mulder sighs, trying in vain to calm her down, then gives up
as he hauls ass to the car.

~*~*~

Later, Mulder, Scully and their daughter walk into a dark room
labeled "Sick Animal - Restricted" led by an agitated naturalist.
"About six weeks ago I had to take Sophie out of her public habitat,"
Willa Ambrose says, sitting on her haunches as she looks at the caged
gorilla. "She'd become so withdrawn and depressed, she'd curl into a
ball in the corner of her cage and just shiver."

"Did you ask her why?" Mulder asks, looking from the woman to the
animal.

"All the time," Ambrose says, still facing the gorilla.

"What'd she say?"

"'Light afraid.' Literally, she's afraid of the light," she says,
standing and facing the agents.

"She speaks to you?" Scully asks, both eyebrows up.

The naturalist nods briskly. "Over 600 words using American sign
language. She understands over a thousand. I'll show you her
vocabulary list," she says, going over to her desk.

Scully steps closer to her partner. "Is this who you wanted to talk
to?" she asks, letting one eyebrow drop.

Now he nods. "It's basic investigative procedure, Agent Scully -
interview all possible witnesses." He looks down to the baby strapped
to his chest. "Got that?"

Scully is about to retort when Ambrose comes back, handing them a
paper. "Gorillas are highly sensitive creatures, and Sophie's use of
language skills makes her even more so," she says.

"Why would she be afraid of the light?" Scully frowns.

"Well, you've obviously heard about the trouble with the Malawi
government. There's a chance that Sophie could be taken away from me,
and I think that she knows that," she says, but Scully isn't quite
satisfied with the answer.

Page gurgles and waves at the drawings on the wall, and Mulder nods.
"Are these Sophie's?" he asks, wondering if Page will have
Mulder-leaps like her dear old dad. Ambrose nods briefly. "What do
you think they mean?"

"Well, until recently Sophie desperately wanted a baby," she says,
turning to look at the scribbles. "The brown object in the center,"
she points to one of the drawings, "is her expression of that."

"Have you tried to mate her?" he asks, and now Scully looks at him,
wondering where he's going with this.

Ambrose sighs, looking at the moaning gorilla. "We were looking for a
partner but under these stressful conditions I didn't want to put her
through it."

For a moment, he thinks of Scully and the stressful situations he's
put her through, pregnant or otherwise. "Do you have a veterinary
facility here?" he asks, shoving the guilt to the back of his mind.
Again, Ambrose nods, so he goes on. "All right, this may seem like a
rather strange request, but it might help explain what's been going
on here." He spins to his wife. "I'm gonna need your help on this,
too, Scully." He grins, and she gives him a "What the hell are you
getting us into now?" look, but says nothing.

~*~*~

And about an hour later, Scully voices her question, if not her
recurring doubts about his sanity. "I hope you know what you're
getting us into, Mulder," she says, as they stand on a scaffold
overlooking Ambrose hacking into the remains of Ganesha the elephant.
She's wearing a hardhat with a flashlight, as well as gloves and
coveralls, while her husband is still in a suit with a baby strapped
to his chest.

"Don't worry about it." He nods, then tilts his head down, "Look,
Page, Mommy's gonna bungee jump into elephant guts and hack into it.
Can you say 'elephant'?"

She glares at him. "Mommy's gonna hack into Daddy if he doesn't watch
out," she says sweetly to her daughter, ignoring the look of mock
horror on his face. Tilting her hardhat back, she kisses her baby's
forehead. "And if Daddy continues to be an ass, Mommy's gonna make
his life hell, yes, I will."

From below, Ambrose calls out, "Okay, the elephant's cavity is clear.
I'm ready for you!"

"Saved by the bellow," Mulder mumbles under a grin, "do your thing,
G-Woman."

She glares, but doesn't want Page to hear certain words, and turns
away in a huff. Rather than bungee jump, however, Scully makes her
way down the scaffolding slowly until her feet are solidly planted on
firm elephant innards. Ew. Helpfully, Ambrose hands over the butcher
knife. "Thanks," Scully nods, making her way through elephant guts,
no, they're the rib cage, lungs, heart, intestinal tract...Dammit
Mulder. I hate you.

Overhead, Mulder sits down on the scaffold and says, "I've been told
there's never been a successful pregnancy at the Fairfield Zoo."

"Sounds like you've been talking to Kyle Lang." Ambrose makes a sour
face.

As his wife disappears from sight, boldly going where no man's gone
before, he asks, "Is it true?"

"Yes," Ambrose finally says. "But I don't think for the reasons Kyle
claims - not because Ed Meecham has done anything to these animals."

"Why, then?" Mulder asks.

"Because bringing a pregnancy to term in captivity is always
difficult." She sighs noisily.

"But a perfect failure rate?" He frowns.

"I know," Ambrose says impatiently. "It's one of the things I was
determined to change when I came to the zoo."

"Was an attempt ever made to mate Ganesha?" Mulder asks, swinging his
long legs. Page also swings her own legs, and fortunately, doesn't
kick as hard as her mother does.

"No," she says, shaking her head. "Mating an elephant out of the wild
is rarely successful. There have only been six elephants born in
captivity over the last ten years."

Scully emerges with a nasty bit of business in her hands. Ambrose
looks at it, then tells her, "It's uterine tissue, but I'm not clear
on what you expect to find."

From a pocket in her coveralls, Scully produces a magnifying glass
and is inspecting it. Then she squints up at Mulder with an
accusatory look. "You're right, Mulder. The signs in the uterus and
ovaries are unmistakable."

"What did you find?" Ambrose is curious, and steps closer to the
redhead.

She looks at the woman. "Ganesha was pregnant."

"What are you talking about?" Ambrose stares at her.

" There's evidence of hyperplasia and the corpus luteum is ruptured,"
Scully says calmly, thinking, there's got to be a reasonable
explanation for this. There has to be. Perhaps someone with W.A.O.
introduced artificial insemination to Ganesha, or Ambrose had
incomplete records, or....

"We never," The naturalist stops, shaking her head stubbornly.
"That's not possible." She frowns.

"Neither is an invisible elephant," Mulder comments.

No comments from the peanut gallery, Scully is also frowning, looking
at the tissue in her hand. She almost feels sorry for the zookeeper
as the taller woman stares at the exposed elephant's innards with
disbelief. "What is going on here?" Ambrose wonders aloud, voicing
the very same thing Scully has thought over and over every since
working with Mulder.

"Whatever it is it's been going on for some time, and I think you'll
find evidence of the same thing when your tiger returns," Mulder says
from above.

~*~*~

Later, after Ambrose has been fired by the board of directors, Mulder
confronts her with information about the tiger's pregnancy. Page is
back on his chest after a diaper change and bottle feed, and her mood
is significantly brighter than the woman facing him. If her disbelief
with that fact hasn't been enough, he adds, "What do you know about
alien abduction?"

She laughs, the first reaction that comes to mind.
"You're...you're...you're kidding me." He gives her his patented
poker stares. "You think these animals were taken aboard some
spaceship?"
 
"I don't know where they're being taken but there's obviously some
problem getting them back. Due to what is probably an astrological
variation, a trouble with the time-space continuum - these animals
that are being taken from locked cages are being returned roughly two
miles west-southwest of the zoo," he says, delivering his theory as
if it's gospel truth.

She scoffs, "Aliens impregnating zoo animals? I didn't realize FBI
agents read tabloids."

He shakes his head, smiling. "Aliens are also harvesting the
embryos."

Ambrose is staring at him like maybe *he's* the one that should be in
the tabloids. "Why?"

He shrugs, and Page giggles. "Maybe their own Noah's ark? To preserve
the DNA of these animals that we're depleting to extinction." He
holds out his hands. "Whatever it is, that's probably the reason why
you've never had a successful birth at this facility."

"I think that's the most ridiculous thing I've heard," she says,
unsmiling.

Mulder nods. "I understand that you might think it's ridiculous.
Maybe you should ask Sophie."

"You think this is what she's so afraid of?" Ambrose asks, clearly
humoring him.

But he doesn't care. He knows about the aliens' callous disregard for
human life, how they'd harvest and engulf it as only unfeeling
parasites would, but there's something seriously weird about
impregnating animals. Or maybe we're just animals to them, he thinks,
and suppresses a shudder. "I believe she's pregnant, and she's afraid
of them coming for her baby."

~*~*~

In front of Sophie's cage, Ambrose leans forward and signs to the
gorilla as she speaks, "Sophie, come here. I want to ask you a
question. It's okay, Sophie. Come here."

Sophie seems to be waving wildly, and Mulder wishes he'd brushed up
on ESL as well as Espanol. "What'd she say?" In front of him, Page
gurgles, her eyes wide on the hairy creature behind bars.

Ambrose turns to face him. "She says, 'man - hurt baby.' She thinks
you are going to hurt her or the baby." She frowns at Page before
turning back to the gorilla. "Sophie..." She signs again, "man, here
to help you. They want to know about your baby."

Mulder squats down, as if it would ease the fears of a gorilla of
unknown intelligence. "Can I ask her a question?" he says, as Page
waves to Sophie.

Ambrose nods. "Go ahead."

"Ask her if she wants to leave here."

"Sophie," she repeats, signing, "do you want to leave here?" After a
pause while the animal communicates with her hands, Ambrose
translates, " She says 'light afraid.' "Not looking back, she signs
again, "Sophie, what are you afraid of? Tell me."

"What did she say?" Mulder squints at the gorilla, then the woman.

She turns around, a frown on her face. "She said, 'baby go flying
light.' "

Mulder protectively puts a hand over his daughter, and is surprised
to see Sophie protectively holding her stomach before doing more hand
waving. She knows, he thinks, she really knows. But before he can say
the words, Scully comes in with a warning, followed by the deputy
himself.

~*~*~

Later, nursing a helluva headache, Mulder sits in the back seat with
Page and her baby seat, with Scully driving and Willa Ambrose
practically biting her fingernails off. They make their way through a
herd of police cars, flashing lights, curious bystanders and all.

"Where is she?" Ambrose practically mauls an officer.

"Over there." He points, and quickly straightens out his uniform when
she lets go.

As she runs off, Scully, baby in arms, asks, "What happened here?"

Relieved to see she's more stable than the previous woman, the
officer replies, "Animal got hit by a car. Ran off in the field."

With the barest of glances at each other, Mulder and Scully run after
Ambrose across the field. They find her, cradling the dead animal in
her arms, as a mother would her child. "Sophie," the naturalist
cries, rocking back and forth, "no, oh, Sophie, no, no...." She lays
her head on Sophie's, continuing to sob.

Wordlessly, Scully holds Page closer, and Mulder wraps his arms
around them both. None of them turn away, but stand silent as witness
to a loss that could have, or might have, been prevented.

~*~*~

Less than a week later, Scully looks up from her reading to hear Page
gurgling happily. "Page?" she asks, smiling as she takes off her
reading glasses. "Whatchya doing, honey?" Thankful for a break from
reading about animal insemination, she stands and stretches, and
walks over to the crib.

The baby continues to smile, and waves her hands. "What's that, Page?
What's that?" She smiles back at her daughter, and waves. Page
drools, still repeating the hand motions. She tries to imitate her
daughter's gestures, since it's really nothing like a wave, or a
clap, it's something else...

And then she remembers and opens her laptop. Quickly, she types in a
few words, then scrolls through her options. After some time of
staring at various images, she finds what she needs. "Love," she
reads, "baby."

Dialing familiar numbers, she smiles when he picks up. "Mulder,
you'll never guess what Page's first words are. Yes, plural," she
nods, watching her daughter repeat the signs. "I think she picked it
up from Sophie."

~*~*~

Chapter Twenty-One

Mid-March 1995

Mulder wishes they didn't have this case. Teddy Holvey's death had
seemed a sad waste the first time around, but this time it's a fear
inducing tragedy. He could tell that Scully felt the same way as they
stared at the picture of the smiling blond toddler. It won't be more
than six or seven months before Page is old enough to toddle herself,
and the thought of anything happening to her is almost beyond
imagining.

All of which serves to put them both in a very dour mood when they go
to talk to the Holveys. Scully is still reluctant to consider the
idea that someone helped Teddy to his death, but her objections are
subdued, so she doesn't protest much when they speak to the boy's
family.

Maggie Holvey seems bewildered by their presence, so Mulder tries to
explain. "We're here apart from that investigation. We have reason to
believe something may have been overlooked."

"Like what?"

"The possibility Teddy may have been helped onto the tracks."

"Oh my God," Maggie gasps, then covers her mouth.

Steve Holvey, however, is not as affected. "There were over a hundred
witnesses. We saw Teddy ourselves." The fire in the fireplace
suddenly flares up, making them all flinch. "He was chasing a
balloon. There was no one else around..."

Mulder and Scully notice the Holvey's older son, Charlie, standing in
the doorway.

Steve doesn't and keeps talking. "...It was an awful accident. But
that's all it was - an accident."

Charlie looks up and to his left, then runs away as if called by
someone. Scully wanders over to the door.

"Do you have any reason to suspect someone may have wanted to hurt
Teddy?" Mulder asks gently.

"He was just a baby. Why would anybody want to hurt him?" Maggie
cries out.

Steve looks upset too. "Look, I don't know what you're getting at. We
loved Teddy. If you're suggesting that this is anything like that
woman who drowned her kids in the lake, you're way out of line."

Scully sees that Charlie has gone to the old woman, Golda, who is on
a landing midway up the stairs. She is drawing a symbol on the back
of Charlie's hand - a reverse swastika with four dots around it.

"Mrs. Holvey, did you hear anything in the bathroom right before
Teddy disappeared?" Mulder asks. He wants to tell them that he
doesn't mean them, but it won't make things easier to hear.

"I already told the inquest. I heard nothing."

Scully returns to the others. "Mrs. Holvey, at the time of the
accident, did you have any
hired help?"

"No. My mother came to live with us once Teddy was born."

"Around the time of Teddy's death, had you noticed anything strange
happening around the house, uh, things moved, odd objects appearing,
anything like that?" Mulder asks.

A loud, shrill alarm sounds. "It's that damn smoke detector. I'll be
right back." He walks out. As he exits, the lights go out.

Mulder looks around the room. "Ah...does this happen often?"

"It's an old house. We have a problem with the wiring." Maggie's tone
is defensive.

The lights come back on and Golda is standing in the doorway with
Charlie. "Diavol lol...diavol lol...nu ieste el cauza." The woman
shrilly proclaims in another language.

"Mother!" Maggie admonishes.

"Diavol lol."

"Mother, it was just a false alarm."

"No. Asea este problema ta baiatul este blestemat. "[We must perform
the ritual or the killings will continue.]

Mulder notices the reverse swastika on the back of Charlie's hand and
a red string tied around his wrist. The two women continue to argue,
one in English one not.

"Mother."

"Ye dracul!" Golda shouts.

"Stop it!" Maggie shouts back.

"What is she saying?" Scully asks. Mulder shrugs.

"Maggie!" Steve calls as he returns to the room.

"You marry a devil. You have devil child!" Golda proclaims. She
leaves pushing Charlie in front of her.

"I'm sorry," Steve says, making them wonder who he's apologizing to.

~*~*~

 The next morning, Mulder shows Scully reverse swastika in a book. He
would have done it at home, but it had been a rough morning, since
they'd over-slept because Page had kept them up. Scully's thoughts
were more on the possibility that their daughter was teething than
the book until he waved it in front of her.

"You recognize this?" he asks.

"Sure, it's a swastika."

"It's also known as a gammadion or a fylfot. It's an ancient symbol
used for protection or good luck. It's been used by various cultures
since the middle ages. The Holvey's child had one on the back of his
hand last night. My guess it was drawn there by the old lady, to
protect the boy."

"You're right. I saw her drawing it."

"And you didn't think that was strange?"

"Well, I think this boy needs as much protection as he can get- but
just not from ghosties or beasties. Take a look at this." Scully
hands him a folder. "Have you ever heard of Munchausen by Proxy?"

"Yeah, my grandfather used to take that for his stomach."

She doesn't even roll her eyes. "It's when a parent or caretaker
brings harm to a child by inducing medical symptoms, usually as a way
of getting attention or status. If you take a look at Teddy Holvey's
medical history, you'll see that he was admitted to various hospitals
ten times during the two years that he was alive. That's once every
three months."

Mulder reads aloud. "Projectile vomiting at three months. Diarrhea at
four months. Vomiting...diarrhea...diarrhea...yikes, and I thought
Page's constant drooling was bad."

Scully shoots him a 'don't start' look before going on. "Each time
they were unable to determine the cause of the illness."

"And no one questioned this?"

"Well, the family moved around a lot because of Steve's job, and
records take time to transfer from hospital to hospital. But this
kind of abuse is not limited to just one child, so I checked out
Charlie's history as well." She hands him a second folder.

"Charlie had medical problems, too?"

"Since his brother was born, which is right when Holvey's
mother-in-law moved in. Often the perpetrator of Munchausen by Proxy
will view the child as evil. The old woman would be a likely
candidate, but it could be any family member."

"Do you feel like taking a walk over to the State Department,
Scully?"

~*~*~

State Department
Washington, D.C. 

"Things have been strained since Golda - my mother-in-law - moved in
with us. I met Maggie in Romania in 1984. Golda forbade our marriage
- said I was the devil. After I transferreed back to the U.S., things
got somewhat better, until Teddy was born and she came to live with
us. That's when the strangeness really started," Steve tells them.

"What kind of strangeness?" Mulder asks.

"Superstitions rule Golda's life. She'll spit when anyone compliments
the kids. Once she moved in with us, she started pouring hot water
over the threshold to ward off demons, tying red strings around the
kids' wrists. One day I caught her throwing chicken guts on the roof.
Then Teddy and Charlie started getting sick- a lot."

"And you suspect Golda?" Scully asks.

"She'll call Charlie evil right to his face. But at the same time,
she dotes on him like she's afraid of him."

"Afraid of him or for him?" Mulder questions.

"I just don't know."

"Are you familiar with Munchausen by Proxy?" Scully asks.

"Are you accusing us of child abuse?"

"Teddy's medical records have raised some questions."

"I can never say this to Maggie, but I've wondered if it wasn't Golda
who snuck in and let Teddy out of the bathroom that day." Steve
sounds more tired than anything else.

"I'd like to interview your son Charlie, Mr. Holvey, but with a
professional counselor."

She hands him a card on which is printed "Karen F. Kosseff, L.C.S.W.,
Psychiatric Social Worker, FBI "

"Oh boy. This is gonna be hard." Steve says, but he takes the card.

As they leave, Mulder takes Scully's arm. She looks up at him. "That
didn't go as badly as I feared. I know I wouldn't have taken the
thought of your mother abusing Page so calmly."

"Like my mother would spend ten minutes alone with her." He smirks.
"This case is far from over."

~*~*~

Mulder knows Scully believes he was right just a few days later, when
both Golda and Steve are dead. She doesn't bother to ask him how he
knew, and he's just glad that she's willing to chalk it up to one of
his "hunches."

They are looking around the room where Golda died when they hear
shouting coming from the floor below.

"I told you before. Get out of my house!" Maggie shouts as they
approach her voice.

A man says something in Rumanian but Maggie cuts him off. "I am not
interested in your superstition. Now get out. Now!!!"

The men go out the front door as Mulder and Scully enter the room.
"Mrs. Holvey?" Scully asks, concerned.

"It's all right."

"Who are they?" Mulder asks, looking out the window at the men.

"They are the Calusari. In Romania, they are responsible for the
correct observance of sacred rites." Maggie explains.

"What did he say?" Scully asks.

"He said it's not over. The evil is still here."

Mulder excuses himself and goes out the front door and runs to catch
up with the Calusari. He speaks to the first man, who is the head
Calusari.

"Sir? Can I have a word with you? Sir, I'm with the FBI. I'd like to
ask you some questions." He flashes his badge but the Calusari
continue to walk toward their car. "You were trying to protect the
family, weren't you? You said there was still evil here. Sir?" He
grabs the head Calusari by the arm as he reaches the car. "I can
arrest you if I have to."

"The evil that is here has always been. It has gone by different
names through history - Cain, Lucifer, Hitler. It does not care if it
kills one boy or a million men. If you try to stop us, the blood will
be on your hands."

When he goes back in, Maggie explains that Golda thought they were
being plagued by evil because they didn't keep up the old ways, and
protests the idea that her son could be evil because he's just a
little boy. Mulder wishes that being a child really meant one was
innocent. Unfortunately, he's seen too much to believe that.

~*~*~

St. Matthew's Medical Center
Arlington, Virginia 

Karen Kosseff is talking to Charlie in a playroom in the center.
Charlie sits quietly, playing with an Etch-a-Sketch. Mulder, Scully
and Maggie Holvey are in an adjoining room, watching and listening.

"Charlie? I was told they found you in your grandmother's room
yesterday. Can you tell me about it?" He shakes his head. "Do you
remember how you got there?"

"No."

"Your mother said you were there. Don't you remember?"

He speaks sharply. "I wasn't there." He gets up and walks away from
Karen.

"Many people saw you in the room."

"It wasn't me! I wasn't there! It wasn't me!" He kicks some toys
across the room.

"Who was in the room?"

"No!"

"Was there someone else in the room?"

"No! I didn't hurt her!"

"Charlie? Charlie? Who hurt your grand...Charlie?"

"It was him!" Charlie shrieks.

"Who? Charlie, who?" Karen asks urgently.

Charlie continues to shriek. "It was Michael! Michael! Michael!"

Mrs. Holvey gasps and turns away from the window.

"Mrs. Holvey?" Scully walks towards her.

"We never told him. It was agreed upon. It was our secret."

"What secret, Mrs. Holvey? What are you talking about?" Mulder asks,
mostly for Scully's benefit.

"Michael. He was Charlie's twin. He was stillborn. Steven and I
agreed never to tell Charlie about it. My mother, she wanted to
perform a ritual of separation when she heard of Michael's death, to
divide their souls. She said if we didn't, the world of the dead
would follow Charlie. But it was just a superstition."

Scully's eyes widen, and her hand goes to her belly without
forethought. The baby gives a reassuring kick when it feels the
pressure of her hand, so she breathes a little easier. But only a
little.

In the other room Charlie is on the floor and Kosseff is trying to
help him. They determine he's having a seizure of some sort, and call
for an ambulance.

~*~*~

Mulder walks up the stairs to Scully, who is on the same stairway
landing as earlier. Something out the window catches her attention.

"What are you looking at?"

"Is that Mrs. Holvey?"

"Where?" he asks, peering out.

"There. I think she's got Charlie with her."

Down below, Mrs. Holvey is getting into her car. Charlie is in the
front seat as well.

Mulder and Scully pull the curtain in Charlie's room to see that
Charlie is still in his bed. They hear Nurse Castor, who is lying on
the floor in the corner of the room.
 
Scully steps out into the hall to summon help while Mulder helps her
up.

"Are you all right?" Mulder asks the nurse, noticing the blood on her
forehead.

"He hit me."

"Who? Charlie?" Scully asks as she comes back in.

"No...not him, the other one. There were two of them, two boys."

Another nurse arrives to help Nurse Castor. Mulder and Scully walk
out and down the hallway.

"You gotta get to Mrs. Holvey's house," Mulder tells her.

"Why?"

"That boy you saw leaving with Mrs. Holvey - that wasn't Charlie."

"You're saying Mrs. Holvey left here with a ghost?"

"A spirit, a ghost - I'm not sure but it's what we saw in the
photograph. It's what the old woman was trying to protect the family
from."

"But, Mulder...Don't you think it's possible that Golda told Charlie
about his twin, and that's where the idea of someone else came from?"

Mulder shakes his head. "It wasn't an idea that just drove off with
Mrs. Holvey. Whatever it is, it's killed three people, and you've got
to get to Mrs. Holvey's before it happens again." She starts to walk
away, but he grabs her arm. "Be careful, Scully."

She shakes her head and kisses his cheek, totally unconvinced of the
danger. "What are you going to do in the meanwhile?"

"Get help."

~*~*~
 
Mulder waits in the hallway outside Charlie's hospital room. Four
Calusari enter the hall and walk toward him. He motions toward
Charlie's room and they enter the room. Mulder follows.

"Guard the door," the head Calusari demands. Mulder closes the door.

~*~*~

Scully enters the Holvey's house. It is dark.

"Mrs. Holvey?" She steps in, turning on a flashlight. She tries the
light switch but the lights don't come on. She walks into the foyer
and hears a noise from upstairs. "Hello?"

~*~*~

At the hospital, the Calusari surround Charlie's bed and chant in
Rumanian and pray. The head Calusari tears open Charlie's pajama
shirt. Charlie seems to be asleep. As they continue to chant, one of
the Calusari sprinkles a powder on Charlie's chest, and he awakens
suddenly and hisses at them. The Calusari restrain him, two holding
his arms while a third holds his head. The fourth, the head Calusari,
sprinkles a herb into a bowl of liquid and it bubbles. Charlie
continues to hiss and starts to thrash on the bed.

Charlie shouts out, "Fie newt, avet a plaratariat. New potex...new
potex...new potex. Suffragettes agitaball. Pulley tot allso puritay
from freeditay. Suffragette a agitaball. Ohh saaa...pu
chette...agitaball...boy gotz." Mulder can't figure any of it out.

The head Calusari adds a red powder to the bowl of liquid. The liquid
turns red and bubbles more violently, emitting smoke. Charlie
continues to thrash about, while the other Calusari continue to
chant. He turns to Mulder. "Come. Hold him down."

Mulder comes to the foot of the bed and holds Charlie's feet. Charlie
continues to struggle, growls and gives Mulder an evil stare. "Don't
look at him. Look away, or it will recognize you," the man tells
Mulder. Mulder turns his head, seeing an orange liquid now covering
the walls.

~*~*~

Back at the Holvey's, Scully opens the door to Golda's bedroom. The
stained glass with the reverse swastika shakes, and both windows then
blow in. Scully steps back and shields her eyes, then enters. A
strong wind howls through the windows. She enters and pans the room
with her flashlight. A glass object breaks at her feet.

She hears faint chanting in Rumanian, and as she walks along the
wall, her head is suddenly touched by a pair of feet. Startled, she
spins away and looks up, seeing Maggie pinned against the ceiling by
an unseen force. Maggie is chanting. Scully sees a shadow move across
the wall and turns quickly back toward the window, but she sees no
one. The door to the room suddenly slams shut. She gasps and turns
toward the door.

Scully gasps. "Charlie?"

Charlie's voice comes from Maggie. "Mommy?"

Scully shines her flashlight up at Maggie, who resumes chanting in
Rumanian. Scully is picked up by an unseen force and slammed into the
corner of the room, next to the window. She falls to the floor, and
is then slides, along with some furniture, into the other corner.

~*~*~

Back at the hospital, the head Calusari unsheathes a large knife over
the bowl of bubbling red liquid. Charlie now screams at them in
Rumanian. Mulder continues to hold his feet. The bed starts to shake
and rises several feet off the floor.

Charlie screams. "It hurts!" Mulder lets go of his feet.
 
"Do not let go," the Head Calursari admonishes. "He tricks you."

Mulder grabs Charlie's feet again. One of the Calusari squeezes a
liquid into a small cup and hands it to the head Calusari. He adds
the contents to the other bowl of liquid and picks up a white
feather. As Charlie continues to scream, the head Calusari dips the
feather into the red liquid and starts to paint a reverse swastika on
Charlie's chest. He continues to scream, as the rest of the Calusari
continue to chant.

~*~*~

At the Holvey's, Michael also screams and picks up the large knife
from the floor. He advances toward Scully, the knife held high over
his head. Scully shields her head with one arm, her belly with the
other, and tries to twist away.

~*~*~

At the hospital, the head Calusari completes the reverse swastika on
Charlie's chest. Charlie's body relaxes and the bed falls back to the
floor with a thump that's sure to draw attention to the room.

Mulder quickly plans to say he clumsily upset the screen and knocked
it over it anyone asks.

~*~*~

At the Holvey's, the knife falls harmlessly to the floor next to
Scully. The wind stops. Maggie falls to the floor as well. Scully
goes to Maggie's aid.

"Are you all right?"

"Charlie?" Maggie asks, looking confused.

They look across the room but no one else is there. There is gray ash
on the floor and a small wisp of smoke drifting across the floor.

~*~*~

At the hospital, Charlie lies quietly on the bed with his eyes
closed. He is covered with perspiration, as well as the reverse
swastika painted on his chest in red.

"Let the boy rest. We must find the mother. The boy needs her," the
head Calusari declares. The Calusari step away from the bed, leaving
Mulder staring at
Charlie.

~*~*~

Later, Mulder stands in the hallway outside Charlie's room. Scully
and Maggie come off the elevator and run toward him.

"Scully, you all right?"

"We're OK. How's Charlie?"

Maggie runs past him and enters Charlie's room, brushing past the
head Calusari. It is now daylight outside.

"Charlie! It's OK! Charlie!" Maggie cries, running to his bedside.
Charlie is still sleeping but seems OK.

"It is over, for now. But you must be careful. It knows you," the
Head Clusari tells Mulder.

Mulder and Scully stare at each other for a moment. "Let's go down to
the e.r. Mulder," Scully tells him, putting an arm around his waist.

"Why, did you get hurt?"

"I don't think so. But I...fell. This will be more of a peace of mind
sort of check up."

"Ah, as opposed to a 'Mulder does something stupid and ends up in the
hospital sort of visit'?"

"Something like that," she agrees, but then feels bad when he looks
hurt. Of course then he breaks into a grin.

An hour later they're on the way home with the good news that neither
Scully and the baby have been harmed, though Scully is to expect a
sore back and a few bruises.

They're on the way to Mrs. Scully's to pick up Page when Mulder
laughs.

"What?"

"This case brings a whole new meaning to the phrase 'evil twin.'"

She gives a crooked grin, too overwhelmed still to be really amused.
"That's one way of looking at it."

He gives her a suddenly worried look. "The ultrasound did show just
the one baby, right? I mean, I only saw one, but I'm not really good
at figuring those things out..."

"Yes, Mulder, just the one. One little baby who refused to turn the
right way for us to see if it'll be a boy or a girl."

"You wouldn't just say that would you? So I wouldn't keep asking like
last time?"

"Nope." She lets her hand rest on her belly. "This kid is a mystery."

::It sure is.:: he thinks. ::Our little wildcard.::

~*~*~

Chapter Twenty-Two

April 13th 1995

It's been a rough week for everyone. First a neighbor shoots her
husband, then the gunmen call, Mulder gets an encrypted document he
blows up over, and worried about the associate who gave it to Mulder
before suddenly going missing. To top it all off Mulder gets into a
fistfight with Skinner in the hallway. So Scully is more than a
little apprehensive to be meeting with the directors; she can't tell
if the roil in her stomach is morning sickness or nerves.
 
An unfamiliar director asks the first question, almost before she's
fully seated. "Agent Scully, you heard about the incident here, in
the hallway yesterday."
 
"Yes, sir." She's tempted to ask him how he thinks Mulder could have
kept something like that from her, but decides to keep her mouth
shut. As satisfying as sarcasm might be, it's not going to improve
anything.
 
"Do you have any explanation as to Agent Mulder's bizarre behavior?"

"No, sir. Agent Mulder has been having trouble sleeping."

One of the directors raises an eyebrow at this, and Scully bristles.
They're married, it's not like her knowing this is illicit knowledge.

"Do you think Agent Mulder confides in you, Agent Scully?"

"Of course, he's my partner. And my husband as well," she adds. 

This raises another eyebrow. Clearly the depth of their
"partnership" isn't as well discussed as they assumed from all the
tittering that went on before they announced their engagement. The
director doesn't seem to want to discuss that aspect of her
relationship to Mulder. "Your partner. Weren't you originally
assigned to agent Mulder to debunk his work?"

"Yes, sir. Three years ago. I've been writing regular reports stating
the validity of Agent Mulder's work on The X-Files."

The other director asks, "Would you lie to protect him?"

Saying "of course I would" doesn't seem wise, so instead she asks a
question in return, "Am I accused of lying?"

A third director gives her a bleak look. "Agent Mulder has been
advised of a disciplinary hearing. If there's something we learn at
that meeting that you haven't stated today, you could be subject to
the same summary action."
 
"What action is that?"

Skinner too looks grim. "Dismissal without chance of reinstatement."
 
She narrowly holds onto her temper. "Is that all, sir?"
 
"Yes, Agent Scully, thank you," Skinner dismisses her.

Hurrying away, Scully finds the basement office empty. She wishes she
could go home and talk to Mulder, to get to the bottom of whatever is
going on with him. The X-Files are his baby as much as Page is, so
she can't for the life of her figure out why he'd be putting them at
risk.

~*~*~

6 p.m.

Page is yawning in Scully's face as she brings her to her crib. Lying
on the bed, Mulder is sleeping. Just as she walks by him he wakes up
and reaches for his gun. Scully sticks out her hand to calm him.

"I thought you'd hear me come in."

"Oh. I took a sleeping pill."

She frowns, it's not like him to take medication for his insomnia;
it's seemed to have gotten better since they began sleeping together.
"I couldn't find you at work. I was worried about you."

"I came home. I must be running a fever. Maybe it's the threat of
being burnt at the stake."

"They called me in today."

"What did you tell them?"

"That nothing was wrong." The expression on her face makes him think
she's worried that she inadvertently lied.

"Well, you told them the truth then."
 
"Mulder, you opened the door for them, they're just looking for a
good reason now."

He doesn't sound contrite. "Okay, I'll say I'm sorry."

"Mulder, these files. Who knows you have them?" 
 
"Why?" Mulder gives her a suspicious look.
 
"Because I had to lie today. And I put my job in jeopardy in order to
do so. If they find out about those files...."

"How would they find out?"

"Maybe they already know. The question is, is it worth it? Is this
cassette worth risking everything?"
 
"I'll tell you when I find out what's on it. Now just tell me who I
can talk to about breaking that code."
 
"I'm meeting with someone in an hour. I might know something later
tonight, I just need some kind of assurance that they're not going to
let us hang ourselves with this. That I'm doing the right thing. Are
you going to be ok to look after Page, or should take her with me?"

"She's sleeping, we'll be fine. I promise not to cough on her." He
gives her a small grin that quickly fades. "...and I'll try to give
you the reassurances you need." He gets out of bed and tapes an X to
the window

"I need to know one more thing, Mulder. Why did you attack Skinner?"
 
"I've thought about that, Scully. I honestly can't say."

After she leaves he tries to remember why he hit Skinner, but his
head feels so damn strange he can't even begin to figure it out.

~*~*~

Scully has been gone an hour when the phone rings. Sighing, Mulder
reaches for it. "Mulder."

"Fox, this is your father, I need to see you right away. "

"Where are you?" Something wiggles at the back of his mind. There's
supposed to be something significant to seeing his dad tonight, but
what is it? He begins to worry. ::What happened last time?::

"I'm at home. How soon can you be here? Fox, it's very important."

"Scully's not home, and I have the baby." He glances over at Page. Is
she the significant thing? ::No, no, there was no baby last time.
Think, dammit!:: "I'll have to drop her off at Maggie's before I come
over."

Bill Mulder sighs. "I wish I could see her...but come as quickly as
you can."

~*~*~

Later 

Scully arrives home to an empty apartment, and it brings an
unpleasant déjŕ vu of that afternoon in the office.

"Mulder..." Just then she notices a note taped to the TV "Gone to see
Dad, brought Page to Maggie first."

She walks to the window, a gunshot is fired and the bullet grazes her
head. Trying not to panic, she gently touches the wound, grateful
that there wasn't more blood.

~*~*~

Bill Mulder's House 

Bill answers the door a few seconds after Mulder begins to knock.

 "Fox." His father looks half-relieved, half-surprised to see him.

"Dad. What is it?"

 "Come in." Mulder enters and Bill shuts and locks the door.

 "It's...It's so clear now. Simple. It was so complicated then. The,
the choices that needed to be made."

"What choices? Dad?" ::That's it isn't it? Something about his
choices.::

"You're a smart boy, Fox. You're smarter than I ever was."

"About what?" ::What's going to happen? I remember it's bad.::

 "Your politics are yours, you've never thrown in. The minute you do
that, their doctrines become yours and you can be held responsible."

"You're talking about your work in the state department."

"You're going to learn of things...Fox, you're going to hear the
words and they'll come to make sense to you."

"What words?"

"The merchandise. Look I, I've been taking some medication. You'll
have to excuse me for a moment." ::No Daddy, don't go!::

"Dad! Hold up!" All at once, Mulder remembers. ::He gets shot!::

Bill hesitates a fraction of a second, but goes to the bathroom
anyway and opens a medicine cabinet. Mulder hears a gunshot even as
he's racking to the bathroom.

Bill Mulder is lying in a pool of blood. "Dad? Dad. Dad? " Outside,
tires screech. Mulder puts his hand under his father's head. "Oh,
Dad."

"Forgive me..." Bill says, then his eyes roll back. Mulder thinks
he's dead that very second, but grasping at the older man's wrist, he
feels a faint pulse.

"Don't die on me, Dad. Not this time."

He puts a folded towel under Bill's head and whips out his cell
phone. "Hello, 911? This is Fox Mulder with the FBI. There's been a
shooting, I need an ambulance." ::Please God, don't let him die
again. Please, please please...::

~*~*~

Mulder watches as the load his father in the ambulance. Despite his
pleadings, they won't let him ride along with them. He's a little bit
hopeful, given his father never got a hospital visit the last time
around, but he's too confused to do anything but call Scully.

"My father's been shot, Scully."

"Where are you?"

"They shot him and now he's on the way to the hospital, and they
wouldn't let me go with him."

"Mulder, where are you? Just tell me where you are."

"I'm at Dad's place."
 
"Who shot him, Mulder?"
 
"I don't know."

"Mulder, were you arguing?"

"I didn't do it, Scully, he was trying to tell me something You gotta
believe me, Scully." His voice sounds broken, like a little boy's and
her heart breaks.
 
"Mulder, I believe you, just listen to me, you've gotta get out of
there, you have to leave immediately."

"I can't leave the crime scene, it'll look like I'm running, make me
look guilty."

"Mulder, they're gonna suspect you anyway, you've got no ID on the
shooter, you, your behavior has been irrational recently, Mulder,
can't you see that everything is pointing directly at you?"

 "He was shot with somebody else's weapon."

"Damn it, Mulder, you're an FBI agent, you have access to weapons
other than your own."
 
"All right. I'll come home."

"No. No you can't come home. Someone shot through our window tonight,
they almost killed me, they might be trying to kill you."

::Or you.:: He thinks, slumping into a chair.

~*~*~

Maggie Scully's House 

Maggie opens the door as Scully struggles to get Mulder inside. The
pallor of his skin shocks her, and she can't help but blurt out.
"Fox...My God. Look at you. You're sick."

::Hey, that's Scully's line!:: He's filled with a compulsion to
giggle, but doesn't. "I'm okay. I'll just get some coffee, ok?"

"No come on," Scully insists. "I want you to lie down on, woah, come
on I want you to lie down, let me take your coat off."

"Dana, let me help you get him to bed. I don't want you to exert
yourself."

"I'm pregnant, not an invalid." Scully snaps, then immediately looks
sorry. "Sorry."

"You gotta find them, Scully," Mulder protests as the pilot him into
the living room.

"Right now you have to lie down. Come here." She and Maggie manhandle
him until he's sprawled on the pull out bed in the living room.
Upstairs had a comfortable guest room, but neither of them felt they
could get him up there.
 
"We gotta find out who hurt my father," Mulder says, his eyes heavy.
"Promise me."
 
"Well, right now you need to rest okay, rest. It's okay. Okay. "

~*~*~

"What's wrong with him?" Maggie asks not long after Mulder has fallen
asleep.

"The flu, I think."

Maggie nods. "If you need to look for his father's shooter, I can
look after him and Page."

"You're too good to me, Mom," Scully says, getting up to give her a
hug.

"Family is important, Dana. I never told you this before, but I used
to have these dreams that you'd let work take over your life, and
never find anyone." She glanced towards the doorway, where she could
just barely make out Mulder's sleeping form. "I'm so glad I was
wrong."

"Do you...like Mulder?" Scully asks, wondering why it's never come up
before.

"I do. He adores you, that makes him a good man in my book."

"He is a good man," Scully agrees softly.

~*~*~

Unfortunately, Mulder tests the limits of her patience the very next
day when he calls her up ranting about how she doesn't trust him and
is always taking her little notes. It's his strange paranoia that
leads her to wonder if he's really sick with the flu after all. A
perusal of her medical books, suggests that something sinister might
be at work, and there's only one way to know for sure.

Going back to their apartment she someone delivering water filters
and is suspicious enough to go to the basement and snag one to
analyze. To her complete exasperation, she sees Mulder jump out of a
cab, and run around behind the building. Tucking the filter into her
coat, she dashes after him.

Mulder grabs Krycek as he walks by and punches him in the face.

"I'm gonna kill you anyway, Krycek, so you may as well tell me the
truth. Did you shoot my father? Did you try to kill him...answer me."
Mulder punches him again as Scully skitters onto the scene.

"Mulder, don't shoot him. Just back away." She points a gun at
Mulder.

"He tried to kill my father, Scully."

"I have him, Mulder."
 
"No, Scully..." ::It's different now. You wouldn't really shoot your
husband.:: He doesn't let up his aim at Krycek, so Scully shoots him,
Krycek runs off. ::You would.:: He thinks, crumpling to the ground.

A woman's voice cries out, "Oh my God. Somebody call the police."
Scully grits her teeth and wonders if pointing out she is the police
would do any good.

~*~*~

When Mulder wakes up, an older native American man is peering down at
him. "He's awake," he says before leaving his side.
 
Scully comes to Mulder's side." Mulder, Mulder it's me. Here drink
some of that, you haven't had any water in over 36 hours. Your
shoulder's going to be fine. The round went through nice and clean."
 
Mulder drinks, then looks up at her accusingly. "You shot me."

"Yes, I did. You didn't give me much choice, you were going to shoot
Krycek."
 
"You say that like it's a bad thing...Why'd you shoot me? He's the
one."
 
"If he is, then his weapon is probably the same one that shot your
father."
 
"What are you talking about?"

"If you killed Krycek with that weapon there would have been no way
to prove that you didn't attempt to kill your father. I'm sorry about
your father, Mulder."

"Oh, God, is he dead?" Mulder cranes his head to look around. "and
where's Page?"

"Page is with my mom. And your father is doing ok. They don't think
there will be any permanent damage to his heart, but it was touch and
go for a while."

Mulder slumps back, looking relieved. "How'd you know Krycek was the
shooter?"

"I didn't. I went back to the apartment to pull the slug from the
wall, and I noticed an unmarked van delivering soft water and I found
this in one of the tanks servicing our building," she tells him,
glossing over the fact that she was already suspicious about his
symptoms not adding up. Then she holds something out for him to see.

"What is it?"

"It's a dyalysis filter. It's a device used in the transmission of
substance to solution, considering the level of psychosis you were
experiencing, it was probably LSD, amphetamines of some kind of
exotic dopamine."
 
Fear stabs through him. "Oh my God. Did you or Page-"

"No. They seem to have only changed it within the past few days, and
you're the only one who'd drink that nasty tap water. The babies and
I are just fine."

"Thank god. Who knows what that crap could do to an infant or fetus."


"Mulder, these men are quite possibly the same ones who shot your
father and who systematically tried to destroy you by turning
everyone you could trust against you. I don't think I have to tell
you why."

"I'd gotten too close to the truth." He looks around in puzzlement,
suddenly aware that he had no idea whose home they were in. "Where
are we?"

"We're in Farmington, New Mexico."

"New Mexico? How'd you get me here?"

"We've just driven two days across country, I had to put you out to
let the side effects of the psychosis abate. This is Albert Hosteen,
he's been translating your files."

Mulder snorts. "Someday you're going to tell me how you managed to
care for me alone for two days in the car. With a bullet wound."
 
"You're lucky she's a good shot," Albert opines.
 
"Or a bad one," Mulder retorts, making Scully grimace.

"Albert was a Navajo code talker during World War II. He helped
encode the original government documents."

"How'd you find him?"

"Through a woman in Washington. But he claims he knew you were
coming."

Albert speaks up, "Last week we had an omen."

Scully changes the subject. "Most of these files are written in
jargon but apparently there was an international conspiracy of
silence dating back to the 1940's. Albert says that evidence of these
secrets are buried on a Navajo reservation not far from here. He says
that he'll take you as soon as you are able."

Mulder's a little wobbly on his feet when he gets up. "What about
you?"

"I'm afraid you're on your own with this. Page and I have doctors'
appointments I don't want to miss, not to mention that I didn't show
up for a meeting with Skinner the day before yesterday and I don't
know what the repercussions will be. "

"You've taken a big risk."

"I was certain they would have killed you, Mulder." She stares at
him. "Thirty-one is far too young to be a widow."

"Thank you. Thank you for taking care of me."

"Someone has to." She smiles at him. "There's something else.
Krycek's name is in those files. It appears in the latest entries
with Duane Barry's."

"In what context?"

 "It's not clear, but it has something to do with a test. I think we
should find out why."

"Hopefully it's something bad," Mulder mutters. :: Wonder if Alex is
going to get a visit from the cancer fairy.::

She gives him a reproachful look for the suggestion, but hugs him
too. "Try to stay out of trouble while you're here."

"Me?" He adopts an innocent expression. Scully just sighs, and Albert
gives her a sympathetic pat on the back.

~*~*~

Navajo Nation National Reservation
 
"You said you knew I was coming." 

"In the desert, things find a way to survive. Secrets are like this
too. They push their way up through the sands of deception so that
men can know them. Here, this is my house."

"But why me?"

"You are prepared to accept the truth aren't you, to sacrifice
yourself to it."

"I don't understand."

"There was a tribe of Indians who lived here more than 600 years ago.
Their name was Anasazi, it means ancient aliens. No evidence of their
fate exists. Historians say they disappeared without a trace. They
say that because they will not sacrifice themselves to the truth."

"And what is the truth?"

"Nothing disappears without a trace."

"You think they were abducted."

"By visitors who come here still." Albert gets out of the car, Mulder
follows him.

"What's buried out there?"

"Lies. You will see for yourself."

Albert's grandson agrees to bring him to where they'd found the
body, so Mulder gets on the back of Eric's bike. Eventually Eric
brings the bike to a halt and points to a spot.

"It's through these rocks. It's down there."

Eric makes no move to go with him, so Mulder climbs down the
rockface. His cell phone rings.

"Mulder."

CSM sounds detached. "You're a hard man to reach."

"Not hard enough apparently."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at the Betty Ford center, where are you?"

"I need to talk to you, Mr. Mulder, in person. There are some things
to explain."

"Funny, I'm hearing that a lot lately. The trend is that phrase a bad
omen. I'll save the government the plane fare, I just need to know
which government that is."

"Your father may have told you things, Mr. Mulder. I should warn
against taking those things at face value."

"Yeah, which things are those?"

"He was never an opponent of the project. In fact he authorized it.
That's what he couldn't live with."

"No, he couldn't live with it because you had him shot. "

"We weren't involved in that." 

"Now listen to me, you black-lunged son of a bitch, I'm gonna expose
you and your project, your time is over. And so help me God, if my
father dies..."

"Expose anything and you only expose your father." Mulder hangs up on
him.
 
Bending down in the red pit, Mulder uncovers a plaque in the dirt
which reads Sierra Pacific Railroad RTC - 567 480.

 "Over here," Eric calls.

"This is a boxcar." Eric nods, and he and Mulder open the hatch into
the boxcar.

"Refrigeration car."

"You're a man of few words, Eric." Eric just shrugs.

~*~*~

Washington, DC

Scully's cell phone rings while she's in the middle of spooning baby
cereal into Page's unusually willing mouth. With a feeling of regret,
she puts the spoon aside, hoping that Page will still be hungry after
the call. Weaning Page before her little sibling's birth is high on
Scully's list of priorities.
 
"What do you bet it's Daddy?" Scully asks before grabbing the phone.
"Scully."

 "Yeah, it's me."

"Where are you?"

"Nowhere I ever expected."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm in a boxcar buried inside a quarry. There are bodies
everywhere."

"Bodies?"

"Stacked floor to ceiling."

"What happened to them?"

"I don't know." Mulder looks at the hybrid bodies piled in a corner
one on top of the other.

"Mulder, in these files I found references to experiments that were
conducted here in the US by Axis Power scientists who were given
amnesty after the war."

"What kind of experiments?"

"Some kind of tests, on humans. What they referred to as
merchandise."

"But these aren't human, Scully. From the look of it I'd say they
were alien."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm pretty damn sure. Wait a sec..." Mulder looks at the arm of one
of the merchandise. "This one...has a smallpox vaccination scar."

"Mulder..."

"Oh, my God, Scully, what have they done?" The hatch closes.
 
A couple of minutes later a incendiary device is thrown into the box
car and it bursts into flames.

~*~*~

end two of ten

find other plain text parts here:
http://www.mulderscreek.com/text/hub.html