Scully read until long past midnight, unable to still her
jangling nerves every time she thought of facing Mulder in the
morning. Finally, around two, she turned off the light beside the
bed and forced herself to lie still, concentrating on taking
deep, relaxing breaths and willing herself to, if not fall
asleep, at least bring her body to a restful state.  Every time
an image of Mulder turning away from her tried to enter her mind
she pushed it forcibly aside.  Each time she thought she heard
his voice telling her he no longer trusted her, she reminded
herself that he had been hurt, and had simply intended to lash
out at her in the most painful way possible.  After forty-five
minutes of making a conscious effort to block the day from her
mind, she eventually relaxed and fell into a light sleep.

The man in the car smiled when the dim ray of light from the
woman's window faded to black.  He would give her another hour
and then make his move.  It was time.

*****

Mulder awoke in the morning when a foot nudged his own.  Eyelids
popping open, he stared up into Skinner's face.  He realized, as
he glanced around to get his bearings, that he'd slept in
Skinner's living room all night.

"Sorry I didn't wake you," Skinner apologized when Mulder
stretched aching muscles.  "I didn't think you'd sleep for long."

"'S'okay," Mulder muttered through a yawn.  "What time is it?"

"Almost nine.  I called Jess and made an appointment for ten, so
you need to get moving."

Mulder nodded grumpily and started for the bathroom, telling
himself if there wasn't fresh, hot coffee when he emerged he
might have to hurt Walter.  Slipping into the tub as the warm
water coursed over him, Mulder once again felt the knot in his
stomach begin to take hold, and moments later found he was
shaking all over.  With a curse, he kicked up the heat of the
water and made a concentrated effort to calm himself. He couldn't
afford a panic attack--not this morning. Not when he had to face
Jess and make up some plausible lie about why he'd decided not to
off himself the day before. He wondered what reason he could give
that wouldn't land him in even more trouble with her.

When he finally emerged, Skinner threw coffee and toast at him
and ordered him to eat fast.  With a glance at the clock, Mulder
began to wolf down the toast, carrying the coffee cup with him as
they left the apartment.  It was only a ten minute drive to Jess'
office, but they were going to be cutting it close.


Half an hour later, sitting on her couch and sipping at yet
another mug of caffeine, Mulder stared mutinously at the floor.
They weren't getting anywhere, and the only thing keeping him
from walking out was the sure knowledge that he'd have to get
through Skinner's massive marine persona first.  He shuddered at
the thought.  Walter was his friend, but he could be damned scary
at times, and Mulder had worn Skinner's patience quite thin
lately.

With a sigh he tried to focus on what Jess was saying.  He tuned
back into her words in the middle of a sentence, and stared in
amazement when he realized what she was doing.

"...and it's obvious to me, Mulder, that your father abused you
horribly as a child and that you resent the hell out of your
mother for not protecting you.  This recurring tendency of yours
to act out in order to gain attention, even to the point of
placing yourself in the hands of a known enemy just so he can
shoot you, speaks to the deep psychosis from which you are
suffering."

He held her eyes for as long as he could keep a straight face and
then snorted laughter, covering his mouth to avoid spewing coffee
all over himself.  Swallowing his mouthful with difficulty, he
broke down into helpless laughter, his eyes tearing, until
finally he had to put down the coffee mug and hold his aching
ribs.

"Oh God, Jess, that was great!" he gasped in between spasms of
laughter.

Jess sat back in her chair with a satisfied grin on her face.  "I
thought if you were going to just sit there and ignore me for the
whole session, I might as well have a little fun."

Mulder wiped his eyes, still breaking out with a laugh now and
then. "I haven't heard that much psychobabble bullshit in one
paragraph since I was in school," he told her.  "How'd you do
that?"

She shrugged.  "Just something I read on the internet one night,"
she smiled.  "And if you're still planning to finish your
studies, you have a lot more of that psychobabble bullshit in
your future, Mulder, but getting back to the topic at hand..."
She stared at him meaningfully and sipped at her own coffee.

Mulder's eyes dropped and his fists clenched involuntarily.

"What is it that's so hard for you to talk about?" she asked
gently.

"You'll think I'm nuts," he muttered.

It was her turn to snort.  "After all this time, what could you
possibly tell me about yourself that I don't already know,
Mulder?" she demanded. "If something happened yesterday to
convince you *not* to commit suicide, don't you think that's a
good thing?"

He nodded, obviously ill at ease with her questions.

"But you still feel uncomfortable talking about it."

Another nod.

"Does it have something to do with your childhood?  Your sister?"

At that he raised his head sharply, his eyes probing hers.
"How...how did you know?"

Jess shook her head slowly.  "I didn't know, I just guessed.
You've had a lot of pain in your life, Mulder, and so much of it
is centered on what happened when you were twelve.  Was it
something to do with Samantha's abduction?"

"No," he said slowly, "it was something that happened a few years
earlier.  Sam had a birthday party..."

She waited a minute.  "How old were you?"

A brief smile crossed his face.  "I was ten.  I was a brat, you
know? Always teasing her and her friends, and that day they
decided to get back at me.  They called me names, drew pictures
of me...little kid stuff."

"That must have hurt you," Jess observed, and Mulder nodded
again.

"It did, some, but looking back on it now it seems so
insignificant. Anyway, I took all of it I could stand and then I
grabbed a toy of hers and threatened to destroy it."

"And did you?"

"No," he whispered.  "I couldn't.  I could never really hurt her.
I adored her.  She was all I had..."

"So what happened?"

Mulder rubbed a hand across his face, feeling a light sweat
breaking out there.  Damn, he told himself, after all these years
it shouldn't be so hard to talk about.  It was only a birthday
party.

"She asked me not to."  He smiled fondly.  "Actually, she
*ordered* me not to.  She could be a bossy little thing when she
wanted.  And I took one look at those trusting eyes of hers and
knew I couldn't do it.  And afterwards she came up and...she
thanked me.  Jess, she was so innocent, and she trusted me so
much, and I--"

He stopped.  Mulder knew if he continued the tears would come and
this was one session in which he was determined to remain
dry-eyed.

"So your sister thanked you for not breaking her toy, and that
made you feel guilty?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I shouldn't have threatened to do it in the first damn
place!" he exploded.  "I was her older brother, I was supposed to
take care of her and protect her, and she couldn't even trust me
not to-- What kind of a brother does that?"

He stopped again.

After a minute, Jess leaned forward until their knees were almost
touching.

"What I hear you describing is the same kind of behavior ten year
old boys have been exhibiting since the dawn of time," she said
gently. "You seem to be expecting an awful lot from yourself."

He wiped surreptitiously at the corner of one eye.  "What do you
mean?"

"Well," she said, leaning back again now that she'd gotten his
attention, "you think badly of yourself for an action that any
child could be expected to engage in, and you miss the point
entirely."

He glanced up at her serious face, seeing no trace of the joking
that had gone on a few minutes earlier.  "And what is the point?"

"That you didn't break the toy.  You didn't betray her trust.
And later--that other time she needed your help so badly--you did
everything in your power to help then, as well.  You didn't
betray her trust that day either."

Mulder looked stunned, as if this had never once occurred to him.
He'd been blaming himself for not being able to save Samantha for
such a long time that it had never occurred to him to give
himself points for trying.

Jess let this settle for a moment, and when his face didn't
exhibit too much distress decided to move in for the prize.

"What was it about that memory that stopped you from killing
yourself, Mulder?" she asked in a voice that was as calm and
gentle as a snowflake.

A wondering smile crept slowly across his face.  "I heard her,"
he confessed at last.  "I heard her voice, the same voice,
telling me not to do it.  And I still can't refuse her anything."
He gazed up at Jess to make sure she understood.

"I couldn't save her, Jess, but *she saved me*.  She saved me--"

Jess handed him the tissue box and he grabbed blindly at a
handful, turning away from her and wiping at his face.
Exhaustion hit him without warning and he slumped back against
the couch.

"It's really okay, isn't it?" he asked, seeking her reassurance.
"That I couldn't help her and she helped me?"

"If she'd tried everything she could to help you and still
failed, would you have held her accountable?"

A look of revelation passed over his face and he slowly shook his
head. "No."

She nodded, satisfied.  "It works both ways, Mulder."

*****

Scully stared dully out the window of the station wagon.  They'd
started out with her car, then ditched it at the airport and
stolen this one from a long-term parking lot.  It was unlikely
that the owner would miss it for days, and by then it would be
too late.  Zach's plan would be completed.

She'd awakened in the early morning hours to a hand pressed
tightly over her mouth and a gun at her throat, Zach's
unmistakable voice whispering in her ear exactly what she would
do unless she wanted Mulder to die first. Thinking longingly of
the gun she kept in the night stand drawer, only a foot away yet
totally unreachable, she had nodded to indicate her cooperation.
Zach had kept the gun trained on her carefully while she rose,
dressed, and walked ahead of him to her car.  She had followed
his instructions to drive to the airport and watched impassively
as he easily broke into the station wagon.

He had tied her hands tightly at her back and fastened the
seatbelt around her, then driven from the parking lot leaving no
one the wiser. He'd assured her that as long as she did what he
said, Mulder was out of danger, and she had clung to the hope
that he'd been truthful.  If she endured all of this and Mulder
were to suffer in spite of her efforts--

She shuddered when she remembered Zach's hands on her.  Nothing
had prepared Scully for the revulsion she'd felt at her
ex-husband's touch. To think that she had once been fond of this
man, been intimate with him, now sickened her and she swallowed
hard to keep the bile from rising in her throat.  She could still
taste his tongue in her mouth.

It seemed they'd been driving for hours, watching city turn to
country, then turn to dull, dry prairie sparsely broken up by a
small town here and there.  Zach had kept to the back roads and
less-traveled highways, and every mile they continued took one
more ounce of her hope away.

He'd said she would die with his name--she was beginning to
believe him.

*****

Mulder was silent on the drive back to Skinner's house, refusing
to fill his friend in on anything that had transpired in his
session, but Skinner sensed a new relaxation in the younger man.
Something had certainly happened behind that office door, he told
himself, something good, and if Mulder wasn't ready to talk about
it he could wait.  When they'd gotten home, Mulder headed
immediately for his bedroom, and when Skinner looked in on him an
hour later he found his friend sleeping soundly.  Skinner
retreated quietly, knowing Mulder must be near exhaustion, and
closed the door.

When the telephone, which had been silent all morning, rang
suddenly around three, Mulder was still out.  Skinner checked the
name on the Caller ID box and grimaced.  Bill Scully?  What could
that man possibly have to say to him?

"Skinner," he barked gruffly into the handset.

"Mr. Skinner, this is Bill Scully, Dana's brother."  His voice
sounded worried, and didn't contain the cockiness that Skinner
remembered from his previous meetings with the man.

"Yes?"  He kept his tones clipped.  Worried or not, at this point
Skinner couldn't imagine any situation in which he would welcome
conversation with any member of the Scully family.

"I was just wondering...have you seen my sister today?"

At that Skinner sat up straight.  "No, why?  Should I have?" he
questioned carefully, with a glance down the hall toward Mulder's
room.

"Is--is Mulder there with you?"  Bill's voice was still hesitant,
as if he knew his questions were unwelcome but felt compelled to
ask them anyway.

"He's here.  He's sleeping.  He had a rough day yesterday."

Bill sighed quietly.  "Dana told me last night that she was going
to pay him a visit this morning, then go to our mother's.  Mom
hasn't seen or heard from her, and I got no answer when I called
Mulder's house."

"Mulder spent the night here."

"But if Dana didn't find him at home, wouldn't she come to your
place next?  Mulder's spent a lot of time there lately, hasn't
he?"

"What are you trying to say?" demanded Skinner, working to keep
his voice down against the rising anger.

"Look, Mr. Skinner, I'm not implying anything.  I know you've
been a great help to Mulder--Dana's told me.  It's just that I'm
having a little trouble locating my sister, and with her madman
of an ex on the loose, forgive me if I'm a bit concerned!"
Bill's voice started out in apology and rose steadily, betraying
his deeper fear.

"All right, Scully, just calm down," Skinner said.

"Scully?  What the hell does she want?" demanded Mulder's voice
from behind him, and Skinner closed his eyes in frustration.

"Not Dana.  Bill."  The instant he mouthed the words at Mulder,
Mulder held out his hand for the phone, a look of raw
determination on his features.

Skinner shook his head and Mulder took the telephone from him,
shaking his hand off with a warning glance.

"Bill?  What's the problem?" he asked when he had the phone to
his ear.

"Mulder, is that you?  It's Dana.  She seems to be...well I
can't...I can't find her, Mulder."

Skinner watched the color drain slowly from Mulder's face and
cursed under his breath.  Putting his hands on Mulder's shoulders
he forced his friend down to sit on the couch.

"What do you mean, you can't find her?" Mulder demanded harshly.

"She said she was going to Virginia this morning to talk to you
and then to Mom's house, and she never showed," Bill said in a
rush. "She hasn't called Mom, she's not answering her cell phone,
she's not answering at home, and the secretary I talked to when I
called her at work said Dana never called in this morning, and
never showed up."

"Shit!" Mulder whispered, looking up at Skinner.  "Zach has her."

Skinner nodded and grabbed his cell phone, already dialing when
Bill responded, "That's what I'm afraid of."

"Look, Bill, Skinner's on it.  Don't worry, we'll find her."  He
thought for a moment.  "He's your friend, do you have any idea
where he might have gone?"

"He's not my friend any longer, Mulder," Bill replied grimly.
"And no, I don't, but I can call his parents and see if they know
anything."

"You do that, and call me back."

He hung up and stared at Skinner.

"I've got a call in to the Baltimore PD," Skinner told him.
"They're going to have someone go out and check her apartment and
call us back."


Over the next hour Skinner knew there was no point in telling
Mulder to stop prowling the apartment like a cat--he did a good
bit of prowling himself.  When the telephone sounded, Mulder
grabbed it up before the first ring was completed.

"Yeah?" he asked tersely.  "He did?  Well that's just great.
Okay, thanks, Bill.  We'll let you know if we get any more
information."  He dropped the phone and slumped over it for a
moment, then straightened up.  "Zach left Emmie with his parents
last night.  He said he was attending a convention in Los
Angeles.  Something about dermatology."

"Morrow's a dermatologist?" Skinner asked curiously.

Mulder shrugged lightly.  "I don't know," he said in a distracted
voice. "I guess so.  I know he's some kind of doctor.  Scully
never talked about him much and I didn't ask questions."

"Hang tight, Mulder," Skinner said as his cell phone began to
ring. "Chances are good she's still alive, and we'll have time to
find her."

He spoke to the Baltimore PD and then wandered into the kitchen
to make his next call.  He kept an eye on Mulder from the other
room, but the dark-haired man on his couch never moved, just sat
with his head bowed and his hands between his knees, almost in an
attitude of prayer or meditation.  When he disconnected the call,
he went back to stand before Mulder quietly.  Mulder looked up at
him then, and Skinner saw the terror in his eyes, the certainty
that his feeble luck had run out, that this time would most
surely be the last time.

"There is no convention of dermatologists or any other doctors in
Los Angeles this week," he reported flatly, and Mulder's head
gave a brief nod, as if the information was expected, and bowed
again.

"They didn't find anything at Scully's apartment, but her car is
missing.  Mulder," he said carefully, sitting down beside his
friend on the couch, "have you considered the possibility that
Scully may have simply taken off again?"

Mulder turned to stare at him, surprised.  "Why would she?  What
could she be running from now?" he questioned.

Skinner pursed his lips thoughtfully.  "Maybe she's running away
from Zach."

"But she wouldn't worry her family like this," Mulder protested.
"She'd tell them where she was going.  No, Walter, Zach
threatened to get her, and now he has.  I just know.  I can feel
it."

"Well, Mulder, as I recall you used to be a hotshot criminal
profiler. I suggest you draw on those skills now, because if your
suspicions are true, Scully needs to be found as quickly as
possible."

Mulder felt his stomach turn over at Skinner's words, but he knew
they were right.  He used to be able to do this.  In fact, he
used to be damned good at it.

"I think he'll ditch her car," he said slowly.  "They need to
find Scully's car, and check whether or not there are any
vehicles missing from the area where it's located.  That will be
one of the first things he does; in fact, he's probably already
done it."

Skinner was already dialing.  "Then what?" he asked, holding the
phone to his ear.

Mulder stood very still, trying to draw on his memory.  "He left
the little girl here.  That means either he's still in the area,
or he's planning to come back."

"Where would he go?"

Mulder sighed.  "I don't know.  It would help if we had some idea
of his motive."

"I thought his motive was to kill her," Skinner said, one eyebrow
raised, then turned his attention to the phone.  "Yeah, this is
Walter Skinner again, I need to speak with Captain Penn."

Mulder continued when Skinner was placed on hold.  "If all he
wanted was to kill her, he could have done that in her apartment.
Instead he chose to kidnap her, steal a car...he wants something
else, Walter.  I just don't know what."

*****

Scully raised her head and looked around sleepily when the car
rolled to a stop.  They were at a small gas station, tucked away
on the side of a dusty highway in the middle of...was it Iowa
now?  She wasn't sure.  She looked over at Zach and gave him a
tentative smile.  When he'd wanted her last night, Scully had
realized that she had a choice. She could fight him and quite
possibly be injured or killed in the struggle, or she could
pretend to still have feelings for him and maybe, just maybe,
find a way out.

With lead in her stomach and a lump in her throat, she had
whispered words of endearment to him, words of apology, telling
him how she'd missed him, how she'd been wrong to leave him, and
Zach, being the man he was, had believed it all.  It had been
exactly what he wanted to hear.  When they had pulled out of the
deserted rest stop where they'd spent the night, she had managed
to convince him to leave her untied.

She'd asked him, earlier, where they were going, and he had
flashed her a brilliant smile and said, "Las Vegas."

"To get married," she confirmed, and he nodded.

"Zach," she had said, placing her hand on his thigh and ignoring
the revulsion she felt, "you said something about me dying with
your name."

He glanced down at her hand, then over at her, a serious
expression on his face.  "I intended to kill you, Dana," he said.

She'd managed to look shocked, as if the idea had never occurred
to her, and he'd taken her hand from his leg and raised her
fingers to his lips briefly.  "That's how badly I wanted you to
be mine," he told her quietly, and Scully had felt tears sting
her eyes.

Blinking, for once forcing them to come, she had given him a look
of pure understanding.  He didn't need to know the tears were
from fear and anger and frustration.  Let him think they were
tears of sorrow, tears of empathy--tears for him.

"Oh, Zach," she murmured.  "Wouldn't you rather I *lived* with
your name?"

He smiled and stepped on the gas, taking them ever more quickly
toward their destination, and eventually she had dropped off to
sleep.

Now she gazed around at the station, all but deserted, only the
neon 'open' sign giving any impression of life.

"Wait here," Zach told her as he climbed out.  "I'll pump the
gas."

"I need to use the restroom," she told him, and after a long,
searching look at her he nodded his permission.

She went around back and tried the door, knowing it would be
locked, and she was not disappointed.  Glancing at the open field
surrounding the station, she clamped down on her natural instinct
to run.  Not yet, she told herself.  There was nowhere here to
hide. She came back around and started for the door of the
station when she was stopped by his voice.

"Where are you going?" he demanded, and she could hear the note
of distrust that still remained.

"Key," she said, gesturing toward the door.

"I'll get it," he told her, screwing the gas cap back on the car
and entering the station, leaving her to wait outside for him.
He returned a moment later and escorted her around back, opening
the restroom door for her, and Dana realized, chagrined, that he
intended to stand outside until she was finished.

"I won't be long," she told him, caressing his cheek lightly with
her hand, and he smiled as the door closed behind her.

Quickly she pawed through her purse, hoping she had some stray
scrap of paper there.  Finding nothing suitable, Scully ripped a
deposit slip from the back of her checkbook, tore off the part
that contained her bank account number, and searched frantically
for a pen.  At last she located one and, after scrawling a hasty
note on the paper, returned it all to her bag.  She flushed the
toilet, washed her hands and positioned her purse over her
shoulder so that the paper was within easy reach should she have
a chance to deliver it to someone who could help.

"I'll take the key back inside, honey," she told him when they
reached the front of the station again.  "I'd like to get
something cold to drink anyway."

He stared at her again for a long moment, then said, "You wait
for me in the car.  I'll get you a cold drink."

Swallowing her disappointment, Scully smiled and squeezed his
hand, then walked to the car without looking back once.  Zach
watched her climb inside and arrange herself in the seat, then
entered the station.

Knowing he was probably watching her from inside, she slid her
purse to the floor, carefully extracting the paper as she did,
slipping it down between her seat and the car door.  When Zach
returned, handing her a bottle of water and a bag of pretzels,
she smiled and thanked him as if there was nothing amiss.  He
started the engine and began slowly pulling forward.

"Oh, my door's not closed tight," she said suddenly, and opened
it a bit.  The elation she felt when the paper blew out onto the
clean pavement was quickly hidden as she slammed the door tightly
and turned a bright smile to her captor.  "All set," she told him
cheerfully, and as they sped away he reached for her hand.

"Damn nasty city people," grumbled the attendant as he watched
the woman open the car door.  A piece of paper fell out when she
did, blowing a little and lodging against the concrete stand
where the pumps were located. Still complaining to himself, the
little man walked outside to pick up the scrap.  He liked to keep
his station and the grounds surrounding it clean; people often
wouldn't stop if they thought your restrooms might be dirty, and
trash lying on the ground didn't give a good first impression.

He snatched up the paper and wadded it into a ball, intending to
toss it into a nearby trash can, when he realized it was a bank
deposit slip.  Damn fool woman probably didn't know her bank
account number was blowing all over Iowa, he thought disgustedly.
Out of curiosity he smoothed the paper, heading inside to dispose
of it in a less public receptacle, when his eyes caught the
writing on the back.

'Please help!  I've been kidnapped.  Call police!'

"What the hell...?"  He flipped it over and read the name--Dana
Scully. Baltimore, Maryland.  Lady sure was a long way from home.
Could this be for real?  That man she was with had seemed like an
arrogant sonofabitch, but she didn't appear to be held against
her will.

Finally deciding it wasn't his job to put two and two together,
he picked up the telephone.  It was a slow afternoon here, it was
probably a slow afternoon down at the police station too.  Might
as well let Bob Jacobsen deal with this.

*************

Chapter Eight

*************


It was a simple matter, being rescued from a madman, if you
contacted the right people, Scully soon found.  Minutes after
they had driven away from the gas station she had realized with a
surge of anger at herself (how could I be so *stupid*?) that she
had neglected to write their license number or any description of
the vehicle on the note, but to her immense relief it hadn't
mattered. Less than an hour after managing to drop her desperate
plea out the car door, praying the gas station attendant would
see it, read it and take action, red and blue lights had flashed
in their rearview mirror.

"Shit!" Zach muttered, and Dana put a calming hand on his arm.

"Don't worry, Sweetheart, it's probably nothing.  I do think you
might have been going a little fast, I'm sure he just wants to
talk to you about speeding."  She gave him a reassuring smile and
waited until the uniformed police officer knocked on the window
before unbuckling her seatbelt.  The minute Zach had opened his
window to talk to the officer, she had jumped from the car.

"Officer, I need your help," she said firmly, pointing at Zach.
"This man is my ex-husband and he's kidnapped me."

Zach turned a bewildered face to her.  "Honey?" he questioned,
and only she could detect the warning in his voice.

The policeman, having been told to be on the lookout for any cars
with license plates from Maryland or surrounding states, quickly
drew his weapon.

"Step out of the car, Sir."

"Officer, my wife is distraught, it's been a long--"

"Step out of the car, *now*," the officer repeated, moving back a
step and training his gun on Zach.

With a heavy sigh that showed just how put out he was by this
whole affair, Zach complied.  Before he could protest the officer
ordered him against the car and cuffed his hands behind his back.

"Are you Dana Scully?" the officer questioned her tersely.

"Yes I am," she replied in a voice that was beginning to quiver a
bit now that safety seemed imminent.  "And his name is Zachary
Morrow.  He stole this car."

The policeman, whose name Scully still hadn't learned, ushered
Zach into the back of his car and picked up his radio.  Within
minutes he had confirmed that the car they were driving had,
indeed, been reported stolen the day before, and that an APB had
been issued for Dana Scully and Zachary Morrow.

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to get into my car.  I'll
need to take you down to the station to get a statement."

Reluctantly Dana climbed into the police car, ignoring Zach,
still cuffed in the back seat.  With silence broken only by his
threats of a lawsuit and demands to see an attorney immediately,
they drove back to the small town of McCart.  The police station
was a small building of tan brick sitting on one corner of the
town square, and as they entered Scully welcomed the coolness of
the dim interior after the blinding sunshine bouncing off the
prairie.  Blinking as her eyes adjusted, she watched while Zach
was marched into a holding cell.  His eyes, when he took a last
look at her, were livid.  Scully shuddered and turned to the
officer who was preparing to take her statement. There wasn't
time to break down now.  She had to draw on her years of training
and experience as an FBI agent and give a clear, concise account
of her abduction, leaving out nothing.  Nothing.

*****

"He wants her," Mulder said positively as he played with the
pieces of his destroyed styrofoam cup.  "He wants her and he
won't kill her, not yet.  Not until he can be certain she belongs
to him again."

"Meaning what, Mulder?" John Alberts, the agent in charge of the
case, was growing impatient.  Spooky Mulder had been a
legend--hell, he was still a legend--around the Bureau for years,
but he was sitting here now making cryptic comments and generally
not being much use.

When Mulder had first entered the room, all eyes had been on him,
as well as the Assistant Director who stood just behind him, and
Alberts had been sure he saw Mulder's face go from nervously pale
to a sickly gray. Mulder had taken a long look around, then
settled himself in a chair and kept his eyes mostly on the
tabletop, as if he could feel the stares of the agents and wanted
to pretend they didn't exist. Well, Alberts couldn't blame the
man.  Like everyone else, he'd heard the story of how Mulder had
been framed for murder and sent up, spending four years behind
bars before his innocence had been proven and his release
obtained.  Even now there were those in the Bureau who still
believed Mulder had been guilty of that crime, but the way
Alberts saw it, Mulder had been a good agent (even if he had some
odd beliefs) who had run afoul of some very powerful people.

Now, seeing Mulder slip back into the mode of profiler as
naturally as if he'd been doing it for the last ten years,
Alberts was amazed, and felt more than a little sorry for the
guy.  It had to be tough on Mulder, sitting there in a place he
knew he really no longer had the right to be, feeling the
scrutiny of dozens of eyes, knowing he was probably better at
their job than most if not all of the owners of those prying
eyes.  He took a seat across from Mulder.

"Meaning what?" he asked again.

Mulder glanced up at him as if grateful that Alberts gave a
listening ear.  The reactions of the agents on the case had been
mixed when Skinner brought Mulder in, most leaning toward the
negative.

"I think he's probably heading for Reno or Las Vegas," Mulder
said in a low voice.  "A place where they can get married easily,
without a lot of fuss or attention."

"That's the stupidest thing I ever heard, Mulder!" retorted Agent
Brown, and ignored the glare he received from Alberts.  "Why
would he think he could force her to marry him?  Wouldn't the
lady just refuse?"

Trying to overlook the sarcasm in Brown's voice, Mulder replied,
"The *lady* is a former FBI agent, and a damn good one.  She
wouldn't lose her head in this situation.  I think she's probably
cooperating with him, trying to gain his trust until she can find
a chance to escape."

"Maybe she went with him willingly, did you ever think of that?"
Brown responded, and Mulder felt Skinner's firm hand on his
shoulder, holding him in his seat.

"We happen to know that isn't the case, Agent Brown," Skinner
answered levelly, keeping his grip on Mulder's shoulder until he
felt his former agent relax.  "She was planning to visit Mulder
and her mother the next day.  She would not have simply
disappeared with a man who abused her, a man she had divorced
because of that abuse.  There's no question in my mind that a
crime has been committed."

He pulled out the chair next to Mulder and dropped into it
wearily. "So we should check Nevada?" he asked hopefully, and
Mulder nodded.

"I think that's where he's taking her.  My only fear is that
after--"

"After?"

"I'm afraid that afterwards--he might try to kill her.  We have
to find them soon, Walter, Scully may not have much time."

Skinner had already opened his mouth to suggest Mulder get some
rest, a suggestion he knew would be rejected, when his cell phone
rang. Fishing it out of his coat pocket he flipped it open and
was astonished to hear Maggie Scully's voice on the other end.

"Walter, she's all right!"  He could hear the tears of happiness
in Maggie's voice.  "The police found them in Iowa, she's all
right."

When Mulder saw the smile that broke out on Skinner's face he
knew it had to be good news about Scully.  He was reaching for
the phone even before Skinner held it out to him.

"Maggie," Skinner told him, as Mulder grabbed the small telephone
eagerly.

"Maggie?  What is it?" he demanded, hope coloring his voice.

"Oh, Fox, they've found her and she's all right!"  Maggie was
beginning to cry now, and Mulder slowly and gently pried the
details out of her, his eyes also glittering suspiciously.  When
he finally hung up, Skinner stood, gathering papers, and informed
the agents that the victim had been located, apparently unharmed,
and that he would get together with them later to complete the
report.  Then he and Mulder hurried from the room.

"We've got to go out to Iowa and collect her," Mulder said as
they made their way to Skinner's office.  "She doesn't have any
way to get home."

Skinner stopped short and swung around to face Mulder.

"*We've* got to collect her?" he asked, his eyebrow raising a
good inch. "Don't you think this is a job for her family,
Mulder?"

Mulder blushed but held his ground.  "I'm going," he said
steadily, looking Skinner in the eye.  "I have to.  You can come
if you want, Walter, but I have to make sure--"

Skinner threw back his head in defeat, eyes closed, one hand
massaging the knot of tension at the back of his neck.  Finally,
after an eternity, he nodded to Mulder.  Then without a word he
entered his office. Mulder watched him go warily, wondering if he
had finally pushed Skinner too far, but followed after a moment
and took a seat while Skinner rearranged his day.  After
canceling all appointments for the afternoon as well as the next
day, Skinner said gruffly, "Let's go."

Mulder looked surprised.  "You're going with me?" he asked.  "You
don't have to babysit me, Walter."

"Well somebody damn well has to!" Skinner exploded suddenly.  "If
you took my advice you'd never go anywhere near that woman again,
but you don't ever take my advice, do you, Mulder?  You run off
and do whatever you want to, just as you did when you were
working for me, and just as then, I'm always available to pick up
the pieces.  Of course I have to go with you.  I can't let you
meet up with her on your own.  Who would pull you out of your
depression and back to some type of sanity after she breaks your
heart yet again?"

He stopped after this tirade, breathing heavily, when he saw that
Mulder looked scared to death.  The younger man sat in the chair,
almost huddled, hands clenched together in his lap, face pale,
lips pressed firmly together.  It was only the glint of fire and
determination in his eyes that made Skinner realize that the old
Mulder--set on his course no matter what--was still inside.

"Look, I'm--I'm sorry," he said apologetically, rubbing at the
back of his neck again.  "I didn't mean to imply that you can't
take care of yourself, it's just--well, it's only been two days,
Mulder."

He didn't say more, but Mulder knew the words Skinner had left
unspoken. Only two days since he'd turned his back on Scully,
presumably forever.  Only two days since he'd said he no longer
trusted her.  Only two days since he'd been ready to blow his
head off.  Without warning he melted, his entire body seeming to
turn liquid as he sank back into the chair and covered his face
with his hands.

"Mulder?" It was hesitant, as if Skinner was afraid he'd burned
bridges with his previous comments.

Mulder shook his head lightly, and when he lowered his hands, the
AD was proud to see that the fire had not diminished from the
hazel eyes.

"I understand, Walter," Mulder told him softly.  "But I still
have to go.  I can't explain it--maybe I'm fooling myself when I
say I won't have anything to do with her any longer.  All I know
is, Scully needs me and I have to go.  But you don't.  I'm sure
Maggie and Bill Scully will keep me from doing anything stupid."

Skinner made a noise of derision.  "Maggie might try, but I
wouldn't put it past Bill Scully to hand you a weapon," he
retorted, and Mulder had to smile faintly.

As it turned out, the four of them flew to Iowa together, landing
in Des Moines and renting a car for the two hour trip south to
McCart. To his horror, Mulder had found himself wedged between
Maggie and Bill on the flight, while Walter was safely ensconced
three rows behind them.  He'd glared at Skinner when the older
man confiscated the single seat, but Skinner had merely smiled
back at him blandly, and Mulder decided Skinner considered this
his proper punishment for his running after Scully yet again.
With a silent groan he had taken his seat and tried to retreat
within himself.  It was not to be allowed.

Bill started it off.

"So," he'd said, not quite facing Mulder but leaving no doubt as
to who he was addressing, "I suppose you'll be my brother-in-law
soon." There was only a hint of derision in the words, and Mulder
was impressed; it had probably cost Bill a lot to sound
moderately civil.

"No, I don't think so," he'd answered evenly, inwardly praying
Bill would drop the subject.

Instead, Maggie took his right hand in hers and forced him to
face her.

"Now Fox," she admonished, and it was clear where Scully got her
steel personality, "I don't want to hear any of that nonsense.  I
know Dana has hurt you, and I know how very, very sorry she is.
She only did what she thought was best for you, and although she
might not have made the smartest of decisions, you mustn't forget
that at the time she was also hurt, and very frightened.  She
wanted to guarantee your safety no matter the cost.  You can't
hold that against her."

"I'm not holding anything against her--" Mulder began, but it was
soon evident that he was outnumbered.  The Scully family was
counting on a marriage, and it seemed easier to simply let them
talk than to protest. Although, he assured himself, he had
absolutely no intention of giving in to pressure.  Not this time.

"Then why don't you drop the attitude?" growled Bill.  "Dana
still loves you.  Obviously you have some sort of feelings for
her, or you wouldn't be on this plane."

There seemed to be nothing to say to that, so Mulder settled back
with a resigned look on his face and let them go on at him until
he fell asleep.  Even if he did marry Scully someday, he told
himself drowsily, it certainly wouldn't be the wedding about
which Maggie was fantasizing. No way would he stand for that.
For once, he decided, he was going to maintain control over at
least one aspect of his life.

He awoke when they were about to land, and managed, thankfully,
to avoid more than the simplest of conversation while they made
their approach and finally slowed to a stop.  In the bustle of
people retrieving carry-on luggage and exiting the plane, Mulder
was able to hang back enough to intercept Skinner.

"Save me, Walter!" he whispered as they followed several paces
behind the Scullys.  "They've already got me married to Scully
and living in a cottage with a white picket fence!"

Skinner grinned.  "With Maggie in the picture, you may not have a
choice, Mulder!" he retorted, but seeing his friend's
consternation he took pity.  "Just stand your ground," he said
quietly, giving the other man a reassuring smile.  "No one can
make you do anything you're not ready for."

"And if they try?" asked Mulder, his voice managing to convey
that he was only half-joking.  He felt a bit like a kid asking
his big brother to protect him from the neighborhood bully.

Skinner shook his head.  "Uh-uh.  You're on your own with this
battle," he said easily.  "Don't worry, Mulder.  You're tougher
than you think you are.  After all, you didn't let me bully you
into staying back in Virginia, so why should you let them,"
nodding toward Maggie and Bill, "bully you into a marriage you're
not ready for?"

Mulder grimaced.  "It's different, that woman is relentless!" he
hissed as he followed Bill Scully into the front seat of their
rental.

The ride to McCart was mostly silent, with Bill doing the driving
and Mulder pretending to nod off again.  Conversation between the
two Scullys and Skinner was sparse, each of them lost in their
own thoughts. When they located the police station a couple of
hours later, the four of them stared silently at the front of the
building for a moment before Mulder finally worked up the courage
to open his door.  He stepped from the car, stretching and
looking around, and tried to ignore the ball of apprehension in
his stomach.

Mulder held back and let Maggie and Bill take the lead into the
station, and when the door shut behind them he turned to Skinner.
He opened his mouth to speak, but to his dismay no words would
come. Skinner took one look at his drained face and shocked
expression and reached for his arm.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, noting the slight trembling
throughout Mulder's body.

Mulder nodded, swallowed, and found his voice at last.

"I can't believe this," he said, his tone conveying his own lack
of patience with himself.  "I saw her just a couple of days ago
and it was nothing, so why do I feel like a nervous teenager
today?"

"Probably because showing up here indicates a level of commitment
to Scully that you've been trying to deny," Skinner observed.
"You can't come all the way to Iowa to fetch her and still
pretend you don't care, Mulder.  You can't have it both ways."

Mulder closed his eyes, leaning his head back and exhaling
heavily. He rubbed his fingers across his forehead as if to
banish a headache.

"I know that," he admitted.  "But just because I still have
feelings for her doesn't mean I have to act on them.  This is a
favor for someone I've cared about for a long time, nothing more.
That woman is poison to me, Walter."

Before Skinner could answer, the door to the police station
opened and Bill Scully emerged, his arms wrapped around his
sobbing mother. Mulder rushed to her side.

"Maggie, what?" he demanded, trying to keep his voice gentle.
"What is it?"

"Oh, Fox!" she cried, pulling away from Bill and wiping angrily
at the tears on her face.  "Dana's at the hospital.  Zachary,
he--"  She stopped and shook her head, overwhelmed.

"The bastard raped her," Bill ground out, his face red with
barely controlled rage.

Mulder lost any color he had retained and his eyes burned; he
felt himself growing dizzy.  Groping blindly, he was gratified to
feel Skinner's supporting grip on his arm again.

"Is she badly hurt, Maggie?" he heard Skinner ask, and felt a
rush of relief when Maggie shook her head through her tears.

"They took her to the hospital for observation, but apparently
she wasn't hurt, at least not physically, just that he--"

"Where's the hospital?"  Mulder heard the voice and dimly
recognized it as his own.

Bill jerked his head to the right.  "County hospital.  Two blocks
down this street."

"Let me drive."

"Mulder--"

"Let me drive!" he insisted, allowing the sharpness in his heart
to creep into his voice.  "You need to take care of Maggie now."

Reluctantly Bill withdrew the keys to the rental from his pocket
and handed them to Mulder, who lightly shook off Skinner's grip
on his arm and climbed into the driver's seat.  He navigated the
sparse traffic easily, somehow feeling detached from the
situation, and within ten minutes they had entered the hospital
and been directed to Scully's room. A nurse met them outside her
door, and while Bill, Maggie and Skinner stopped to talk to her,
Mulder slipped inside, focused only on the woman in the bed.
Scully turned her head toward the door when he entered, and for a
moment he almost thought he saw a tear in one eye, but she
quickly blinked it away.

"Thank you for coming," she said calmly, but her hand was shaking
when Mulder took it in his.

"Are--are you all right?" he asked, forcing the question past his
lips.

She nodded grimly.  "I suppose they told you?" she asked, looking
up at him from beneath wet lashes.

Mulder cleared his throat painfully of the lump that wanted to
settle there.  "They told your mother and brother that
Zach...that he..."

Scully squeezed his hand.  "He didn't hurt me, Mulder," she
assured him with a small smile.  "And while it's true I didn't
like what he did, 'rape' seems too vicious a description.  He
didn't really force me, he just...coerced me to have sex with
him.  Technically it was rape, but it certainly wasn't on par
with some of what we've seen in the past."

"Scully, it was against your will!" he said through gritted
teeth. "Don't try to diminish its importance!"

"I'm not," she denied.  "I'm just telling you he didn't hurt me."

Their conversation was interrupted when the door opened to admit
her family and Skinner, and Scully smiled a weak greeting at
them, holding out her hands for her mother and brother to grasp.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," she kept repeating, and was finally able to
convince Bill and Maggie that Zachary's attentions, while
unwelcome, hadn't left her with any lasting scars.

Mulder knew better.  A veteran of emotional scars, he could only
imagine what such a thing might do to her.  Inwardly he vowed to
make certain Scully visited Jess.  She would resist, bravely
insisting she could handle this on her own, and he resolved not
to tolerate her evasion.  He might have to promise her anything,
but he would get her into Dr. Coslow's office, and soon.

*****

Scully was released from the hospital the next morning, and
Mulder had already booked tickets for them back home.  This time,
since he was in charge of the flight arrangements, he made
certain he and Scully were seated toward the back of the plane,
with Bill, Maggie and Walter up front.  He wanted privacy in
which to discuss a few things with Scully. Also, he thought with
a grin as he gleefully assigned Skinner the center seat, it was
his chance to get revenge for the uncomfortable trip out here the
day before.  Although it might backfire on him, he realized, for
while it would give him the time alone with Scully that he
desired, it would also give the three of them a chance to
conspire against him.

"Do you think they'll be all right up there?" Scully questioned
uncertainly as she buckled herself into the window seat.

"They'll be fine," he grinned, happily stretching his long legs
out into the aisle.  "They've probably got their heads together,
planning our entire future together."

She stared at him for a long minute, then turned to the window,
and Mulder could have kicked himself.  He hadn't meant to scare
her.

"Scully--"

"Do we have a future together?" she asked bluntly, turning back
to him with the determined expression he remembered so well from
their years of partnership.

He swallowed hard.  Now was the moment of truth.  How could he
explain his confused emotions to her and make her understand?

"Scully," he began, choosing his words carefully, "I'd like to
offer you a bargain."

Her eyes grew slightly suspicious.  "What kind of bargain?"

"One where you get to set your own terms," he said lightly, and
when she held his gaze firmly he dropped his eyes for a second.
"I want something from you," he confessed.  "And I want you to
tell me what it'll cost me to get it."

At that, Scully turned fully in her seat to face him, astonished.

"Mulder, you've never been this straightforward in your life,"
she commented.  "You must be planning to ask something serious."

"It is serious."  He bit his lip, still unsure of how to broach
the subject, then, on impulse, took her hand in his.  She stared
at their fingers laced together and waited for him to finish.

"I want you to go see Jess," he blurted out at last.  "I know you
want to pretend this didn't have any effect on you, but it did,
Scully, and I won't let you keep it all inside and do yourself
more harm than good, and I know that you think you can handle it
alone, but--"

"Mulder, you're babbling."

He paused, flushing guiltily.  "Sorry," he mumbled, his head
bowed. "I tend to do that when I'm nervous."

Scully squeezed his hand.  "I remember."  She settled back into
her seat as the plane began to taxi down the runway.  "So let me
clarify this," she said as the wheels left the ground.  "I agree
to see your therapist, and I get to name my price?  You'll do
whatever I ask?"

"Wi-within reason," he stammered, beginning to feel a little
jittery at leaving himself wide open like this.  Scully was a
creative person, she never went for the obvious solution.  There
was no telling what payment she might demand of him.

She sat quietly while they gained altitude, and when the pilot
had finally settled into his course and they had removed their
seatbelts, she turned to him again.

"All right, I accept."

Mulder opened the bottle of water the flight attendant handed him
and took a nervous sip.  "So?" he asked when he'd re-capped the
bottle. "What do I have to do?"

"Let Emmie and me move back in with you," she said promptly.

He stared at her for a minute, surprised at her request, then
averted his eyes with a small sigh.  Actually, he told himself,
he wasn't really all that surprised.  Somehow he'd known it would
be something like this.

"Mulder."  She touched his arm lightly and he tilted his head
toward her.  "I'm not asking for any commitment from you, and I
won't try to force you into...anything you're not ready for.  I'm
only asking for that other chance we talked about."  He didn't
answer, and after a pause she added, "You agree to give it to me,
and I'll go to therapy."  A longer pause. "For as long as you
and Dr. Coslow think I should."

He gaped at her, truly astonished now; this was much more than
he'd expected.  He had been afraid that she would grudgingly
endure one visit, then back out of the therapy, insisting she'd
kept her part of the bargain because she'd attended a single
session. His hope had been that she would recognize her need and
continue without his coercion.

Taking her chin in his fingers and turning her face to his, he
asked softly, "Is that a promise?"

"Promise," she answered, honesty in her clear blue eyes.

"Then I think we need to seal the bargain," he said, and before
she could retreat he leaned over and captured her lips with his
own. Sliding his fingers from her chin to the back of her neck,
he held her in place while what was intended to be a light kiss
deepened, and then deepened some more.  Her hand crept up to
stroke through his hair, and suddenly she was kissing him back,
and Mulder realized that, no matter what else he may feel, no
matter how much confusion there was in his mind or his
heart--this was right.

The sound of a familiar throat being cleared interrupted them,
and Mulder drew back guiltily, glancing up into the face of
Walter Skinner. Skinner's expression was stern as he met Mulder's
gaze, then wordlessly continued on his way to the restroom.

"Shit!" Mulder muttered under his breath.

"He hates me now," Scully said sadly, and Mulder took her hand
again, squeezing it comfortingly.

"He doesn't hate you, Scully.  He's just not sure whether to
trust you." He laughed a little.  "Although I'm in for an extreme
lecture once he gets me alone."

She had gone very still at his words, and sat silently for a few
seconds.  "Can you ever trust me again, Mulder?" she eventually
asked, so softly he could barely make out the words.

He turned and kissed her again, lightly and quickly this time,
and then settled back against the headrest.

"I want to, Scully.  I do want to."

*****

By the time several weeks had passed, Mulder was ready to die.
He was doing more running now than ever before, mostly in an
attempt to maintain his sanity.  He and Scully had kept a safe
distance from one another since she and Emmie had returned to the
house, and the effort to pretend indifference toward her was
slowly killing Mulder.  They hadn't kissed since the flight home,
although Mulder sensed that Scully was available for kissing, or
anything else he might choose.  Knowing she was willing, his for
the taking, made it worse.  He refused to allow himself to be
drawn into an intimate relationship with her now--Mulder knew if
anything happened to destroy that again, it would truly be the
end of him.  As a result, while they gave every outward
appearance of being a happy family unit, inside the Mulder home
things were somewhat tense.

Scully had forced herself to give Mulder the distance he seemed
to desire, hoping that someday her continual proximity would
prove too much for him and he would crack under the pressure, but
so far Mulder had exceeded her expectations on the willpower
front.  At first she had jealously wondered if another woman
might have captured his attention, but careful observation of his
routine proved that theory invalid.  He left for classes in the
morning, spent the afternoon in the campus library (as witnesses
could attest), and returned home in time for a friendly 'family'
dinner around six.  The three of them often spent the evening in
front of the television or playing games, and at promptly ten,
after the evening news, Mulder retired to his own bedroom.  If he
was squeezing in a relationship with another woman, she decided,
he was cutting class to do it, and the absurdity of that made her
smile. Mulder was thoroughly enjoying his schooling, throwing
himself into his studies with the same determination and zeal
with which he'd always tackled projects that interested him.

He was also turning into a wonderful surrogate father, she mused
as she watched him now, teaching Emmie to play baseball.  Emmie
had started school the same week as Mulder, and had come rushing
home that afternoon excitedly waving a permission slip that would
allow her to participate in a fall tee-ball league.  She'd known
just who to approach with it, too, Scully thought with a little
laugh.  While she might have been concerned about possible
injuries, or the fact that Emmie, to her knowledge, had never
even held a baseball, Mulder had immediately grabbed his glove,
bat and ball and managed to improvise a batting tee. As she
watched Emmie gaze up at Mulder adoringly while he instructed her
in the fine art of swinging a bat, Scully felt her throat
tighten. She'd once stood where Emmie was now, and it had been
one of the sweetest experiences of her life.  What would have
happened, she wondered, all those years ago, if she'd acted on
her instinct and turned to embrace Mulder as she'd been tempted
to do? Would it have led to the kiss she'd been craving for so
long, or would he have skittered away like a shy animal, afraid
to give up the years of foreplay in which they'd been engaged for
something more substantial? For a moment she could still feel his
arms around her.

Shaking it off, Scully opened the back door and strode
determinedly into the yard.

"Hips before hands!" she called, and felt her heart stop when his
eyes met hers, glowing with an intensity that told her the memory
was uppermost in his mind as well.

Emmie squealed.  "That's what Fox said!"

"Your mom's an expert," Mulder grinned.  "I taught her everything
she knows."

"Want to play, Mommy?" Emmie asked, holding out the bat to her,
and before Scully had a chance to think she had taken it in her
hands, feeling the familiar grip, achingly familiar after nearly
six years even though she had only held it on one occasion.

Running her fingers over its cool smoothness, Scully swallowed
hard.

"I--I might need a refresher course," she said, afraid to look at
Mulder.

He instantly took the cue, pulling her close and positioning her
before the batting tee, his arms encircling her, his warm breath
in her ear.

"Do you remember?" he whispered, and she could only nod, afraid
to attempt speech.

"What's the rule?"

"Hi-hips before hands," she answered softly, drinking in the
nearness of him, and the scent of him, and the comforting feel of
him.

He placed his hand lightly on her hip, as he had before, and
pulled her back snugly against his body.  With a rush of heat
Scully realized how affected he was by this exchange.  She could
feel him pressing into her, and wished fervently that they were
alone, and that things between them were different.  Then Mulder
placed his hands on the bat above and below hers and they swung.

"Mommy!" Emmie exclaimed delightedly.  "I think you hit a home
run!"

The little girl ran to collect the ball, which had settled
beneath a tree about fifty feet away, and Scully craned her neck
to look at Mulder.

"I never forgot my birthday present," she confessed to him,
watching his eyes soften.  "It's one of my most treasured
memories."

"Mine too," he whispered, and as Emmie placed the ball back on
the tee Scully thought she felt him kiss her lightly beneath the
ear.

"Let's do it again," he said, and for the next few minutes Emmie
ran happily after the baseball as together Mulder and Scully hit
it again and again.  Each time Emmie replaced it, Scully felt the
light touch of his lips on her neck, and finally she was unable
to endure the torment any longer.

"I think that's enough," she announced briskly, pulling away from
Mulder and handing Emmie the bat.  "You're the one who needs the
practice, Nymph.  I expect to see some home runs before supper."

"Okay, Mommy," Emmie promised, and returned to her batting
stance.

Scully felt Mulder's eyes follow her into the house, but she
refused to look back.  When she reached the kitchen she began
blindly assembling ingredients for their dinner, paying scant
attention to what she was doing.  Absently she reached her
fingers to her neck, stroking the skin his lips had touched
repeatedly.  She could still feel him pressed against her, and
the knowledge that he did still want her was exhilarating.  She'd
been afraid his interest in her as a woman was gone, but Mulder's
body had betrayed him.  Perhaps the time was right to approach
him again.

*****

They sat together on the couch in the family room after dinner,
the three of them, Emmie in the middle, watching a Disney movie
that the child had chosen. Mulder stretched his right arm along
the back of the couch, and it seemed the most natural thing in
the world for Scully to extend her left, behind Emmie's back, and
lightly stroke his fingers. Then it seemed the most natural thing
in the world for Mulder to take her hand, and the two of them
remained, surreptitiously holding hands, until the movie was
over.  Mulder took Emmie to bed, supervising her toothbrushing
and reading her a story, and when she was safely tucked in it was
the most natural thing in the world for him to return to the
couch and the most natural thing in the world for Scully to move
closer to him and be scooped up into his strong, comforting arms.

She lay her head against his shoulder and sighed in contentment
as Mulder's left hand came up to stroke through her hair.  When
she felt his kiss on top of her head she pulled back a little to
stare up at him.

"Where are we going with this?" she asked bluntly.

Mulder looked surprised.  "I--I don't really know," he said
carefully. "It just seemed--right, somehow."

"It is right," she told him, snuggling against his chest once
more, and they stayed there, quietly watching television until
the news broadcast ended.  When it was over, Mulder clicked the
remote to turn the TV off and was about to stand up when he felt
Scully's hand slide down his shirt toward his waist.

He froze, waiting to see what she would do, and when he didn't
protest she ran her fingers along his inner thigh, lightly
stroking over his growing arousal before bringing them up to
caress his chest again.

"Scully--" he began, but before he could complete his sentence
she captured his mouth and he was taken prisoner by her kiss.  He
felt himself weakening, and as he relaxed beneath her assault he
slid slowly down until she was laying atop him, her mouth
ravaging his without remorse, staking her claim.  He gave himself
up to the sensation, moaning lightly as she pressed against him
and stroking his hands over her back and her smooth, firm
buttocks.

In the back of his mind Mulder wanted to protest, but a part of
him knew it would be useless--he couldn't fight her *and*
himself.  He slipped his hands up under her shirt and ran them
over her warm skin, and as her mouth left his and began to travel
downward he gasped and pulled her closer still.

'Stop!' screamed his brain, and his mouth tried to articulate the
words.

"Sc--st--"  But her tongue found his ear, one of his most
sensitive areas, and soon he was writhing beneath her, pleading
incoherently. He knew this was a bad idea, he knew he would
regret it later, and he also knew there was absolutely no
stopping the erotic freight train that was Dana Scully.  He had
nothing left to fight with.

As if the gods had finally decided to smile on Mulder for once in
his life, a voice from the shadows broke through their passion.

"Mommy?"

Scully immediately drew back, breathing heavily, and stood up
before Emmie could enter the room and see her mauling Mulder.

"Yes, Nymph?" she asked, her voice catching a little as her eyes
roved hungrily over the man who still lay, weak and trembling, on
the couch.

"Can I have a drink of water?" Emmie asked, coming through the
door in her blue satin nightgown, stuffed puppy held firmly in
her grasp.

"Of course you can, Sweetie," Scully replied promptly, ushering
Emmie toward the kitchen without risking a backwards glance for
Mulder. Inwardly she was screaming her frustration at the
interruption, but it would do no good to voice it to Emmie--she
was only a little girl.

By the time Emmie had been returned to bed, goodnight kisses
bestowed upon both her and her favorite toys, and the light
turned out, Mulder had managed to compose himself somewhat.
Scully returned to the family room, hoping against hope that they
could pick up where they'd left off, but instead found him
standing before the fireplace, his back to the door.

"Mulder?" she asked uncertainly, and he turned to her with a
tight smile.

"Scully, no."

"No?" she repeated, astonished.

He shook his head wordlessly.

"But you were just as involved as I--"

"No."  He said it quietly but firmly, and Scully stood, waiting
for him to elaborate.

He'd hoped she would simply accept his pronouncement, but when
she didn't he turned to face her, putting his hands on her
shoulders for emphasis.

"I can't do this," he told her seriously.  "I want to, but I
just--I can't.  If I do, and it all falls apart again..."

"It won't fall apart, Mulder," she interrupted.  "Zach's in jail,
he's going to prison.  He can't hurt us anymore.  Nobody can hurt
us now."

"You can hurt me."

She gasped at his words, feeling them impale her heart sharply.
She hadn't expected him to be so cruel.

"I'm sorry, Scully," he went on gently, his eyes determined.  "I
do want you, but I won't let you do this to me again.  If you
want to have--that kind of relationship with me, you'll have to
make a commitment."

"A commitment?" she echoed in disbelief.

He nodded.

"What kind of commitment are you talking about, Mulder?"

"A lifetime commitment."

Scully felt her head begin to swim, so unexpected was this
response. Shaking it a little to clear her thoughts, she blinked
a couple of times.

"Mulder, are you asking me to marry you?" she said at last.

He gave a short laugh.  "No, Scully, I'm not *asking* you to
marry me. I'm *telling* you that if you want an intimate
relationship with me, you'll have to marry me."

She pulled away from his hands, crossing her arms and staring up
at him unwaveringly.

"After all we've been through, you're actually demanding a
*commitment* from me now?" she repeated.  "Don't you think the
very fact that I'm here, given our past history, implies a
commitment?"

He shook his head slowly.  "Not one I'm willing to rely on,
Scully," he answered, his voice sad.  "We've been here before,
remember?" She flushed delicately.  "Where we were a few minutes
ago on the couch?" he continued, pointing at the guilty piece of
furniture, "We've been there before too, remember?  It almost
destroyed me completely to lose you before.  I won't risk it
again.  Not with my life at stake.  It may not be worth much, but
I've actually come to value it in the past few weeks. I've
finally reached the point where I feel I have something to lose,
and I won't risk my life again, Scully."

He stopped, out of breath, and waited for her answer.

"So you're telling me that you, a man in his forties, a man who
has certainly had intimate relationships with women in the past,
will not sleep with me until we're married?"  Incredulity dripped
from her words but Mulder ignored it, standing his ground firmly.
Finally she turned on her heel and started for the door, but halted
before she walked through.

"Fine," she said in a clipped tone, her back to him.  "If that's
the way you want it, Mulder, that's the way it will be."  Then
she disappeared, stalking down the hallway toward her bedroom,
and Mulder slumped into a chair, his bones suddenly feeling like
jelly.

"Good God, I must be crazy," he muttered to himself as he shakily
wiped the sweat from his brow.  He'd appeared calm on the
outside, he hoped, but his inner self had been a nervous wreck
throughout the confrontation.  "Walter, I finally decided to take
your advice," he whispered with a tremulous laugh.

He'd had lunch with Skinner just the day before, and as always,
Walter had been blunt with his questions.

"Are you sleeping with her yet?" he'd demanded of his friend, and
Mulder had started guiltily before honestly telling him no.

"But you'd like to," Skinner had observed, watching Mulder's
reaction with a keen eye.

Mulder, poking away at a shrimp salad, had blushed but refused to
respond.

"Mulder, if you take my advice only once in your life, take it on
this," Skinner had said, gripping Mulder's wrist firmly for a
moment to get his friend's attention.  "Don't give in to the
temptation," he said when Mulder raised his eyes.  "The results
might be disastrous, as I'm sure you're aware."

Mulder dropped his eyes again, nodding.  He'd smiled nervously at
his plate, confessing, "I do a lot more running these days."

"Take a lot more cold showers, too, I'll bet," Skinner commented,
and Mulder had agreed with a self-conscious laugh.

"I'm trying, Walter," he had finally admitted, turning serious.
"It's difficult, but I'm doing my best.  I try to spend most of
my time either studying or with Emmie planted firmly between us."

"How's the kid doing?" Skinner asked, mercifully changing the
subject.

"She's doing okay, considering."  Mulder gratefully picked up the
ball Skinner had tossed and ran with it.  "She asks about her
father occasionally, but for the most part she seems all right."

Skinner nodded.  "What did you tell her about Morrow?"

Mulder shrugged.  "Told her the truth, scaled down to a
five-year-old's understanding.  Her daddy did something he
shouldn't and now he has to go away for a while, sort of like
getting sent to his room for a very long time, and that her mommy
and I would take care of her, that type of thing."

"Let's see, kidnapping, rape, attempted murder...and that's just
for starters.  I'd say Morrow will be 'sent to his room' for
quite a few years."

"I sure hope so, Walter," Mulder had answered uneasily.  "I can't
shake the feeling..."

"What?"

Mulder shook his head quickly.  "I'm not sure.  Just a feeling.
Probably nothing."

After a minute Skinner returned to his meal.  "After everything
you've been through, it's only natural that you should feel some
apprehension, I suppose," he observed, and let the subject drop,
but silently resolved to keep a closer eye on what was happening
with Morrow.  He was being held in the McCart county jail
awaiting trial, which was still several months away.  The AD knew
Mulder and Scully would both be called upon to testify, and he
could be as well.  He hoped their stories, coupled with those of
the gas-station attendant and the arresting officer, would be
enough to send Morrow away for a very long time, possibly even
life. He feared the only way Mulder would ever find true peace
was in knowing Morrow was securely locked away forever.

*****

Mulder awoke with a start when something sticky and heavy landed
in his lap without warning.

"Mmph!" he groaned as Emmie's jelly-spotted hands pawed his shirt
and her sweetened lips found his for a quick smack.

"Mommy says it's time for you to wake up," she stated
matter-of-factly as she snuggled into his lap more comfortably.
"Can we play baseball some more today?  It's Saturday.  You don't
have to study, do you?" she asked, turning her deep brown eyes up
to his, and Mulder gave her a quick hug.

"Maybe this afternoon," he replied, positioning her on his left
leg. "Baseball comes first, of course."

"Do you think Mommy will want to play some more?"

Mulder rubbed the stubble on his chin thoughtfully.  "I guess
we'll have to ask her that question," he said, and looked up as
the subject of their conversation leaned against the doorframe.

"I have breakfast ready," Scully told him, her voice even.  No
trace of their previous confrontation was evident in her
demeanor, but she looked tired, and Mulder wondered if she'd
slept at all.  He hadn't thought he would, certain his mind, not
to mention his body, would torment him for the rest of the night,
but apparently he'd dropped off in the chair at some point.

Mulder placed Emmie on her feet and followed the two women in his
life to the kitchen.  Scully waved him toward a chair when he
made a move to assist her, and he obediently took a seat,
silently enjoying the domesticity of the situation.  His eyes
widened in appreciation when she placed a stack of steaming
pancakes before him.

"Wow, Scully, you went all out," he observed as he reached for
butter and syrup, and Scully nodded, taking her chair beside him.

"Emmie, if you've finished your breakfast you can go and get
dressed," she told the little girl.  "I'm sure Fox will play with
you once he's had something to eat."

She watched fondly as the child ran happily toward her bedroom,
and when they were alone she reached a hand tentatively toward
Mulder's arm.  He looked up, surprised, when she touched him.

"I accept," she said quietly, and Mulder felt his heart stop
momentarily.

"You're willing to--"

"I'll marry you," she interrupted.  "On one condition."

Mulder bit his lip briefly.  Here it came.  "What condition?"

"We do it quickly and quietly," she told him in a serious tone.
"I don't mind having my mother and Walter there, even the guys if
you want them, but I refuse to go through another formal ceremony
with cakes and bridesmaids and fancy dresses. Once was enough."

He smiled.  "Is that the way it was before?"

Scully nodded.  "It was mostly for my mother's benefit," she
shrugged. "I never have cared about all that exhibition."

"No, you're too practical for that," he agreed as he took another
bite of the delicious breakfast she'd served him.  "Can I ask a
question?"

"Go ahead."

"Are you going to keep cooking me these wonderful meals once you
have me snagged, or is this just to soften me up?"  His eyes
twinkled as he waited for her response.

She laughed.  "I expect you to do your share, Mulder, since I'm
the only one with a job at the moment!" she retorted.

"Ah, but I'm independently wealthy," he countered teasingly.
"Maybe I'll hire someone to do all this when it's my turn," he
went on, waving his hand about the kitchen airily.

"Oh, and expect me to do it all on my days?  I don't think so!"

"But Scully," he protested, "I'm the one with the money!"

She stood over him, tilting his head back to look up at her.
"But after we're married it'll be mine too.  Better be careful I
don't put you in the poorhouse."

He snorted, going back to his food.  "Not likely," he commented.
"Mom's attorneys had that money so well invested that I could
never work a day in my life and still my net worth would continue
to increase."

"Good," she said seriously, returning to her seat.  "I don't want
to sound avaricious, Mulder, and I truly don't care about the
money, you know that, right?"  She waited for his nod before
continuing, "It won't hurt my case to have a rich husband when I
seek custody of Emmie."

His heart skipped another beat.  "Is that why you want to marry
me?" he asked with forced casualness, and was gratified to see
the surprised look come over her face.

"Mulder, you know me better than that!" she said, slightly
offended at his words.  "I wouldn't do that--to any of us."

He nodded his apology.  "I know that, Scully.  Sorry," he told
her sheepishly.  "So when do we do this thing?  Any day in
particular you have in mind?"

"Well," she said, thinking quickly, "obviously we can't do
anything before Monday.  I suggest we go take out the license on
Monday, and make whatever arrangements need to be made, then get
married on Tuesday, or Wednesday at the latest."

"Tuesday," he said promptly.  "No reason to wait."

She smiled.  "I agree."  Scully reached over for his hand and
squeezed it, feeling her heart swell when he squeezed back.  "I
do love you, Mulder.  I hope you know that, in spite of
everything.  I always have."

Mulder stiffened for an almost imperceptible second, his eyes
darting up to meet hers and read the emotion there.  "I know you
do, Scully," he responded simply.

Scully felt another sharp stab of pain at his words--and at the
words she wanted him to say but he had not.  Before they had time
to pursue the subject further, Emmie bounded back into the room,
washed and dressed, Mulder's New York Yankees cap perched
backwards on her head.

"Play ball, Fox!" she crowed, climbing once more into his lap,
and Mulder pushed away from the table in laughing resignation.

"All right, give me ten minutes," he promised, starting for his
room, and Scully smiled as she watched the two of them together.

"Want to help me sort laundry while you wait?" she asked, winking
at Emmie.  "I guarantee, he'll be longer than ten minutes."

"I heard that," Mulder called back, and mother and daughter
giggled at his offended tone as they started for the laundry
room.

"Mommy?" Emmie asked seriously as she threw her dirty clothes
into appropriate piles.

"Yes, Nymph?"  Scully absentmindedly dumped detergent into the
washing machine, her back to the little girl, but turned around
in surprise at the child's next words.

"Will you be my mommy forever?"

Her eyes filled with tears when she saw Emmie's solemn
expression, and Scully sank to her knees and drew the girl into
her arms.

"Of course I will, Emmie, what makes you ask a question like
that?"

"Jacob said Daddy's going to a bad place and they'll send me away
to live with strangers."

The uncertainty in the little girl's voice broke Scully's heart,
and she wiped away the tears that had crept down the delicately
sculpted cheekbones.

"Now you listen to me, okay?  Not Jacob.  All right?"  Emmie
nodded. "I'm afraid your Daddy is going to have to stay away for
a long time. He did a very bad thing and he has to be punished
for it.  That doesn't necessarily mean your Daddy is a bad
person, do you understand the difference?"  A sniff and another
slight nod.  Scully smiled reassuringly and hugged her again.

"Well, while Daddy's away you have to live with someone who can
take care of you, and a man called a judge gets to decide who he
thinks will take the best care of you.  Fox and I will go to the
judge and tell him that we love you very much, and we want you to
be with us, and Grandma and Grandpa told me they will tell the
judge that as well. And when we're all finished the judge will
tell us whether you get to live with us or not."

"Why would he say I couldn't?" Emmie asked, her clear eyes
honestly puzzled, and Scully wondered at the bittersweet
innocence of childhood.

"No reason," she assured her daughter lovingly.  "There is no
reason at all for him to say that, and I'm sure he won't.  Now,
hadn't you better go see if Fox is ready to play?"

Emmie sniffed again and nodded, happiness restored at the
confident words from the woman she regarded as her true mother,
and ran out of the room with the energy that only five-year-old
children can possess.

Sinking down on a pile of Mulder's shirts, Scully grabbed one and
buried her face in it, inhaling the scent that clung to the
fabric.

Could they really, finally, have it all?

************

Chapter Nine

************


Mulder opened his eyes and blinked sleepily, glancing around the
unfamiliar room as he tried to get his bearings.  The warm body
pressed against his stirred, and memory came back in a rush.
After all the years of waiting and wanting and hoping, it had
finally happened. Yesterday, he had made Dana Katherine Scully
his wife.  It had been a fairly simple process, really.  They had
gone out on Monday during her lunch hour, after his classes were
finished for the day, and obtained a marriage license, and the
next morning, after Scully informed her supervisor that she would
be missing a couple of days work, they had called friends and
family with the good news.  Byers, Langly and even Frohike had
been delighted.  Walter and Maggie had both reluctantly, although
good-naturedly, arrived at the office of the Justice of the Peace
to which they had been directed promptly at eleven o'clock that
morning.  To Mulder's surprise, Skinner had Jess Coslow in tow.

"Jess?" he'd questioned, kissing her cheek lightly.  "Don't you
have appointments?"

"The great part of being your own boss, Mulder, is that you get
to make your own hours," she responded, smiling happily at
Skinner.  "I just re-scheduled everything for the rest of the
day, and here I am. I wouldn't want to miss the joining of my two
favorite patients."

Scully had grimaced a bit at Jess' statement--she still hadn't
quite come to terms with the therapy Mulder had insisted she
receive, but she had kept her end of their bargain faithfully,
and Mulder thought she might be making progress.  She'd been a
good sport about it, he had to admit, never complaining or
missing an appointment.  Soon after Walter and Jess, Maggie had
breezed in, pulling first Dana, then Mulder into her arms for a
hug.

"I'm so happy you've finally made it to this," she whispered in
his ear, and Mulder squeezed her tightly for a second.

"Me too," he told her, kissing her cheek as well.

"Mr. Mulder, Miss Scully, we're ready for you," a voice said from
the doorway to the inner office, and Mulder sought out Scully's
eyes.

She met his gaze steadily, a smile firmly affixed on her face,
and reached for his hand.

So it was that they had made their vows to one another, legal and
moral vows that Mulder knew he, at least, intended to keep
forever. There could never be another woman for him, he was
certain of that now.  He'd drawn the attention of more than one
of his female classmates, and had he been inclined to amuse
himself with women who were smart, attractive, and half his age
he'd have found the field wide open.  Instead, with Scully always
in his heart, he had firmly but politely declined their advances
and returned home to the woman who had held his loyalty from day
one.  Even if he could never have her, he had decided eventually,
nobody else interested him.

Now not only could he have her, he *did* have her, he thought
wickedly as he rolled over to trap her deliciously naked body
beneath his.  She opened her eyes fully and looked up into her
husband's unshaven face. It was the most beautiful sight she had
ever seen.

"What am I supposed to call you now?" he questioned, and she
stared at him, confused.

"Huh?" she asked stupidly, blinking sleep from her eyes and
trying to ignore the swelling heat in her lower body.

"Well," he continued, shifting slightly in order to press himself
more fully between her thighs, "your name isn't Scully any
longer."

"No, I suppose it isn't."

"But calling you 'Mulder' would be confusing," he went on,
dropping a couple of soft kisses on her chin.

She wriggled beneath him and he settled himself more firmly on
top of her, forcing her to be still.

"I could call you 'Dana', he mused as his finger began to lightly
caress the side of her breast, "but then, everyone calls you
that."

"Uh-huh," she gasped as his lips found the delicate skin of her
throat.

"Morrow?" he teased, and her eyes flew open.

"Not if you want to live," she said with deceptive mildness, and
he laughed.

"I agree, 'Morrow' is out of the question," he told her, wringing
a moan from her when his mouth found her left nipple.

Her hands roamed up and down his back, cupping the swell of his
behind firmly as he continued to bring her to a level of almost
incoherent arousal, and Scully wanted to scream when he released
her nipple and spoke again, as if not at all affected by her
nearness.

"So I suppose it's 'Dana'," he continued thoughtfully, moving his
hips slowly back and forth as he mimicked the act he knew she craved. 
 
"Is that all right with you?"

"If you--call me 'Dana', I get--to call you 'Fox'," she managed,
pressing herself upwards in an attempt to drive him as crazy as
he was her.

"Call me 'Fox' and we're through," he grinned, at last giving her
what she ached for.  "I'll make allowances for Emmie, but that's
where I draw the line."

"Fine," she muttered with her last logical thought.  "Guess we'd
better stick with 'Mulder' and 'Scully'.  Seems to have worked so
far."

She soon forgot the entire conversation as his lips, hands, and
body gently assaulted her, and within moments she was focused
only on him, on what he was doing to her, and on exactly why she
loved him so.

*****

They spent the rest of the day and night secluded in their hotel,
ordering room service when hunger struck, making love when the
mood struck, and spending the rest of the time in quiet
conversation or peaceful sleep, nestled in each other's arms.  It
seemed, after the ten months since Mulder's release from prison,
that they still had much catching up to do.  Each found it was
less painful to speak of the past now that the future was within
their grasp, and besides the catching up, many hours were spent
reminiscing over the years when they were partners.

"Do you ever miss it?" Scully asked him, tracing lazy circles on
his chest with her fingernail, and he pulled her as close as he
could, wrapping her firmly in his arms.

"No," he answered positively, and she raised her face to him in
surprise.

"Never?"

"Well, let me see," Mulder said thoughtfully.  "I could be
running myself ragged, working myself to death, chasing down
aliens or bad guys who, if they happened to catch me could hurt
me or even kill me..." She smiled.  "...enduring increasing
sexual tension between myself and my lovely partner..." She
kissed him. "...always fearing something horrible might happen to
her or to myself..."  Now he kissed her when her face clouded
over.  "Or, I could be where I am today, lying here naked in bed
with the woman I adore, who is *finally* my wife, knowing when
the honeymoon's over I can go home to a nice house, a little girl
I also happen to adore, a bright future in a field I enjoy,
coaching a bunch of kids in the fine art of baseball, a dog..."

"Dog?"

"...dog, minivan..."

"Mulder, we don't have a dog or a minivan."

"We'll fix that situation immediately.  If I'm going to do the
All-American Father routine I'm determined to do it right."

"So you're telling me that you're satisfied?  You don't miss the
excitement?"

"...crazed serial killers..."

"...flukemen..."

"...killer kitty cats..."

"...green goop..."

"...*yellow* goop..."

"...or the chance to get chewed out by Skinner and shunned by
your peers on a regular basis?"

He laughed.  "Well, Skinner's not above chewing me out still, but
other than that little detail I'd say I'm pretty satisfied with
the way things have turned out."

"Are you really?"  She raised up on her elbows to look directly
into his face.  "You don't ever wish we were--"

"Do you?" he interrupted seriously.

"Not at all," she answered immediately.  "I was always so
concerned about you in those days.  The only thing I regret is
that we both had to endure so much to get here."

"But they never made us cry 'uncle', did they?" he asked, hugging
her tightly, and she shook her head against his warm skin.

"What was that poem again, Mulder?"

"What poem?" he asked, momentarily confused.  "Oh, that one.
I'll have to look it up for you someday, let you read the whole
thing."

"I'd like that."

"But right now," he continued, allowing his fingers to creep
tantalizingly down her silken skin, "I think I'd rather research
something else."

*****

Mulder stood, hands on his hips, surveying the little girl at the
batting tee.  One more run and their team would take the
championship, and it was obvious the pressure was getting to her.
Her five-year-old face was set in concentration as she swung the
bat, missing the ball entirely.  Mulder, who had been easily
persuaded to coach Emmie's team, signaled to the umpire for a
time-out and walked toward the plate, smiling reassuringly as the
child regarded him with a hint of fear on her face.  His own
expression revealed no sign of the anger he felt, not at the
child, but at her mother and father. Little Jennifer's parents
always criticized their daughter's efforts and never praised when
she did something well. He had tried, politely, to encourage them
to be more supportive of Jennifer, but they had been extremely
obtuse about the situation.

Now was no exception.  Jennifer's father stood in the bleachers,
calling to his daughter, "Come on, Jennifer, don't freeze up.  If
you don't hit that ball, you'll lose the game!"

Scully glared at Mr. North's back, and watched as Mulder leaned
over and whispered something in Jennifer's ear.  The little girl
giggled, wriggled her hips, and nodded, and Mulder went back to
the dugout with a satisfied smile on his face.  He reflected, as
she prepared to swing again, that he had never been happier in
his life, and watched, not at all surprised, as Jennifer made
contact with the ball, sending it through the first baseman's
legs and bringing home the run they needed to win the game.

The entire dugout erupted in screams and Mulder found himself on
the ground almost before the runner touched home plate, mobbed by
the members of his team.  He had promised them that if they won
the championship they could dump ice water on him, just like they
did on television, but he hadn't envisioned being trapped on the
ground when it happened.  Unable to lift the water jug, the girls
quickly dragged it to where he lay and tipped it over to spill on
their coach. Mulder yelled as ice and freezing cold water poured
over his chest, stomach and groin.

As the girls eventually drifted off, still giggling, to find
their parents, Mulder opened his eyes to stare up into Scully's
grinning face.

"Enjoying yourself, Mulder?" she asked, nudging him with her toe
and causing some of the ice to slip beneath the hem of his shirt
and find his bare stomach.

"More than you realize," he gasped, slapping it away frantically.
"You know, you could be more supportive," he grumbled as he
struggled to a sitting position, brushing ice cubes to the dirt.

Scully laughed.  "I am supportive.  Who do you think told Emmie
how to take the lid off this jug?" she gloated and he glared at
her.

"Coach?" came a voice from behind, and Mulder turned, wringing
water from his shirt, to face its owner.

"Thanks for all you've done," said the father of Mulder's center
fielder, sticking out a hand.  "The kids have had a great time
this season. Shelly just adores you, and I can see why.  You're
really good with them."

"Uh, thanks," Mulder stammered, shaking the man's hand and
watching in wonder as he walked away.  "Scully, isn't that--?"

"Yep," she said, slipping an arm around his soaking wet waist.
"The husband of the woman who was so rude to you at Emmie's party
last spring."

"So Shelly is--"

"Jessica's sister. And apparently the father doesn't share the
mother's view of your sordid past."

"Be careful," he said, leaning down to kiss her lightly.  "You're
a very large part of my sordid past."

"And of your sordid future," she said good-naturedly.  "Uh-oh,
I'd better nip this in the bud," nodding toward Emmie and a
couple of the other children who showed every sign of planning to
jump in the mud puddle left by their celebration.

Mulder started for the car, hoping to find something he could use
to dry himself, when another voice stopped him, this one more
sinister, the very timbre of it a threat.

"Mr. Mulder."

His breath caught and he swung around, clenching his hands
automatically to stop the shaking.

"You."

The other man inclined his head in greeting.

"What do you want?"

Ever still, ever slow to come to the point, the elderly man gave
a serene smile.

"I came to issue you a warning."

Mulder made a gesture of impatience.  "Look, don't worry about
me," he began.  "I have no intention of involving myself in your
affairs ever again.  Not only do I not know what you're up to
these days, I don't even care."

"You'll care about what I've come to tell you," the old man said
mildly, ignoring Mulder's anger.

"What?" Mulder demanded, hands on his hips, eyes blazing.  "What
could you possibly have to say to me now?"

"Zachary Morrow has escaped from jail."

Mulder stood stock-still, heart racing as the words registered.
The man turned and began walking calmly across the parking lot
before Mulder found his voice.

"Wait!" he called.  "How do you know?  Why are you telling me
this?" he asked, but the visitor gave no sign that he had heard,
stepping into a waiting car and disappearing before Mulder could
say anything more.

"It can't be true," he muttered to himself as he turned back
toward the ball field.  "They'd surely have notified us."

"Notified us of what, Mulder?" Scully asked as she and Emmie
approached, and noted his frightened start with worry.  Something
had happened, obviously; Mulder was pale as a ghost.

"Nothing," he replied brightly. "So, Emmie, you ready for that
ice cream I promised you?"

"Yes!" she cried, jumping up and down in excitement.  "I want the
big banana split, Fox, remember, you promised."

"I did," he agreed, opening the door and waiting while she
buckled her seatbelt.  "The biggest they have."

Scully caught his eye over the top of the car, her face a
question, and he shook his head slightly.  After a second's
searching look she gave a tiny nod and climbed into the car.  It
would have to wait.

*****

"How can this have happened?" she demanded hours later, standing
in front of the fire Mulder had built in their family room.
Scully shivered, glancing around the room as if expecting Zach to
emerge from a shadowy corner at any moment.

"Scully, you need to calm down," said Skinner from the couch.
They had called him, and after a brief but volatile conversation
with the McCart County Sheriff's department he had confirmed the
information the smoking man had given Mulder--Zachary Morrow had
escaped from jail three days earlier during a prisoner transfer,
and so far there had been no leads as to his whereabouts.

"Calm down?" she demanded angrily.  "There's a madman on the
loose who may intend to kill my entire family, and you want me to
calm down? The jackass Sheriff of some jerkwater town doesn't
think this is important enough to warrant a phone call to any of
us, and you want me to calm down?"

"Scully," Mulder interrupted, "Walter's right and you know it.
Losing our heads now isn't going to help anything."

She clutched her arms to herself protectively, breathing heavily,
but said nothing more.

"Maybe he's not coming here at all," Byers commented from the
corner he was occupying, trying to stay out of the line of fire.
Mulder had called the guys to come over and install their latest
and greatest security devices the second they had arrived home,
and now the six of them had gathered in this room, nobody willing
to go home and leave the Mulder family unprotected.

"Of course he's coming here!" Scully snapped.

"Maybe not," Mulder said gently.  "If he's been on the loose for
three days and hasn't made an appearance, it could be he isn't
planning to."

"But you don't really believe that, do you Mulder?" asked
Frohike, and Mulder gave up the pretense, rubbing his forehead
wearily.

"No," he admitted at last.  "I don't."

"So why hasn't he shown up yet?" Langly weighed in with his own
question.  "And for that matter, why did this guy tell you about
it? I thought he was your enemy."

Mulder shook his head, too tired to think anymore.  "I have no
idea why that man ever does anything, but I am certain of one
thing--he only does a thing if it will benefit himself in some
way."

"Zach may be on foot, in fact he probably is," Scully said,
seeing her husband's exhaustion and putting her own mind into
gear.  "If he'd stolen a car it would be too easy to be
caught--he made that mistake once already, he's not likely to
make it a second time."

"How long would it take him to walk from Iowa to Virginia?" asked
Frohike.

"Depends on whether or not he's hitchhiking, or keeping off the
roads entirely...there are so many variables at work.  If his
intention really is to come here, he won't risk getting caught
before he's able to carry out his plan.  So the question is, what
do we do about this?"

Mulder sighed and rubbed his head again, and Scully came around
behind his chair to massage the back of his neck.  Leaning into
her touch, he allowed his mind to wander.

"We have to keep on about our lives," he said finally.  "I can't
miss my classes, Emmie can't miss school--"

"I'll contact the school tomorrow and explain the situation to
them, make sure they know Emmie isn't to leave the grounds with
anyone except me," Scully interjected, and Mulder nodded.

"Wouldn't it be safer to hole up here, if only for a few days?"
asked Byers, confused and a little frightened at the thought of
Mulder or Scully out alone, unprotected, should Morrow appear.

Skinner shifted in his seat, finally speaking.  "How long is a
few days? They can't go into hiding indefinitely, considering the
fact that we don't know if or when Morrow might appear. I can
have someone watch the house, and Mulder and Scully are both
trained agents. Nobody can guarantee their complete safety, but
we can do our best."

"I suppose you're right," Byers murmured, not entirely convinced.

"We'll be on heightened awareness until he's caught, Byers, but
other than that, and alerting the local police to the threat,
there's really not much we can do," Mulder told him, suddenly
glad he still had his father's gun.  Legal or not, he intended to
carry it with him everywhere until Morrow was taken back into
custody, and Scully was going to do the same, he vowed to
himself.  As for Emmie...

"Maybe we should see if Emmie can stay with your mom for a
while," he suggested, leaning his head back to look up at his
wife.

"I'm sure Mom would love to have her," Scully agreed, and went to
make a call to her mother.  She returned a few minutes later to
report that Maggie would pick Emmie up after school the next day
and keep her until they decided it was safe for her to come home.

Finally they all dispersed, Skinner being the last to take his
leave. "You know to call me if you need me."

"Yes, Walter."

"You know I'll kick your ass if you don't."

Mulder grinned.  "Yes, Walter.  And thanks," he said just before
the door shut behind Skinner.  "For everything."

Skinner nodded once and walked away.  Mulder locked the door,
engaged the deadbolt, and turned back to Scully.  Without a word
being spoken they began to make their way through the house,
checking each door and window to be certain it was secure.

"I won't sleep a wink tonight," Scully declared.  "I don't even
want to go to bed.  What if he manages to break in?  What if he
tries to hurt Emmie?"

"I don't think he would bother her," Mulder argued, but seeing
her face he relented.  "But I see your point.  I'll make the
coffee."

They kept vigil in his study, which was situated across the hall
from Emmie's bedroom, and all night their ears were attuned to
any noise that might signal a potential threat.  Toward dawn
Scully went to replenish the coffee supply and Mulder crept
quietly into the master bathroom to clean up and get ready for
his early class.  He wanted to cruise the neighborhood before
heading for the university, to see if he could spot anything
suspicious.

After leaving the house he drove around for a short time, seeing
nothing out of the ordinary, and finally made for his class.
Scully had delivered Emmie to school with instructions that
nobody but herself, her husband or Maggie Scully was to have
access to the little girl until further notice.  When Mulder
called her between classes, she reported that she had seen
nothing unusual.  Everything seemed normal, and for a moment
Mulder almost allowed himself to hope that nothing would come to
pass, that Morrow had made for Mexico upon his escape rather than
Virginia, but in his gut he knew it wasn't true. With a twinge of
sadness he felt the reassuring bulge of the revolver in his coat
pocket; he hadn't thought he'd ever need to carry a gun again.

For the next few days things were incredibly tense, both of them
knowing the crisis was coming but unable to predict when it would
strike or from which direction.  Because of the highly emotional
situation, and the way her nerves were stretched to the breaking
point, in a way it was a relief, Scully thought, to finally
return home from work and find Zach waiting for her.

He stepped from behind the door when she entered the house,
quickly relieving her of her weapon and ordering her down the
hall to the bedroom.  She stared at him for a long moment,
complying with his demand when she saw him bring the gun in his
hand a little closer to her body. The look on his face was
frightening, and Scully had no illusions about his intent.  He
would, no doubt, rape her again, then kill her.  Then he would be
waiting when Mulder returned and finish him off as well.  Her
mother might be next if Zach tried to retrieve his daughter.  The
only hope Scully could see was to try and stall him.  Mulder
should be home soon.  Perhaps between the two of them they could
manage to overpower or outsmart him.

Her hopes of stalling him were quickly dashed when, as soon as
they reached the bedroom, he ordered her to remove her clothing
and lie on the bed.

"Zach--"

"I said *do it*!" he hissed, jamming the gun into her chest, and
with a hard swallow she reached for the buttons of her blouse,
wondering where the hell the police officers were that should be
guarding the house.

With trembling fingers she slowly unfastened the buttons, one by
one, as he watched, his expression hungry.  Fighting back the
bile created by the thought of Zach's hands on her, Scully slowly
let the blouse drop to the floor.

"Now the skirt," he told her.  "And take it slow.  I want to
enjoy this."

She was happy to follow that command, knowing that every second
she could delay brought Mulder that much closer to home. Inwardly
she prayed he wouldn't get tied up in traffic or otherwise
detained. Risking a quick glance at the clock, she noted that,
with a little luck, he should be coming through the door in ten
minutes.  Give or take a few.

Reaching behind herself, Scully felt for the zipper to her short
brown skirt, inching it down little by little, taking as much
time as she dared.  Zach's eyes grew wider and his grin more
carnal as she released the zipper and ever-so-slowly drew the
skirt down, past her thighs, over her knees, below her calves,
stepping out of it deliberately, one foot at a time.  He relaxed
a bit, leaning against the wall, and gestured for her to
continue. Running her hands slowly and sensuously from her waist
to her knees and back again, Scully finally allowed one shoe to
come off.  She managed another glance at the clock as she bent
over.

Seven minutes to go.

Repeating the action to rid herself of the other shoe, she
wondered what garment should be discarded next.  Definitely the
pantyhose, she decided quickly.  Maybe she could avoiding
exposing too much of herself to this pervert. Sliding her hands
languorously up her legs again, up and down her thighs, she
eventually hooked her thumbs inside the elastic waistband of her
hose.

"You've still got it, Baby," Zach said, and she noted his obvious
erection with disgust.  Careful not to allow her feelings to
register on her face, she gave him a slow, sexy wink and began
rolling the hose down over her hips, inch by painfully slow inch.

Four minutes.

At last she removed the hose, running them lazily through her
fingers before tossing them atop the growing pile of her
clothing.  Now she stood before Zach clad only in her bra and
panties, and with a sinking feeling Scully realized she was going
to have to remove at least one more article of clothing.  There
were still three minutes before Mulder could be expected, and if
he happened to be late--

"Dance for me, Dana," Zach instructed, and she stared at him for
a moment, startled at his request.  Then her mind latched onto
the command, recognizing it as a reprieve, and she began to sway
slowly back and forth to imaginary music, allowing her hands to
roam over her body much like Mulder's did when they made love.
Closing her eyes, she tried to will away the fear she felt,
imagining the strong hands of her husband touching her, soothing
her, hearing his voice in her head as he told her how beautiful
she was, how sexy, how much he wanted her.

"Turn around."

Reality slammed back at her at the sound of his voice, and with
another swallow she turned her back to him, continuing her
seductive motions.  Seconds later she felt his arms come around
her, trapping her while his body pressed against hers.

"You still belong to me, Dana," he whispered, caressing the side
of her face.  "And you still want me too, I can tell."  His left
hand rose from her waist to cup her breast, fingers sliding
beneath the satiny cup of her bra, and she suppressed a shudder.

"I know you think you love him," Zach's gravelly voice continued
in her ear, "but he can't possibly make you as happy as I do.
Can he?"

She didn't answer, and his fingers tightened on her nipple
painfully.

"Can he?" he insisted, and she shook her head, relieved when the
pressure on her sensitive skin lessened.

She took another quick look at the clock and closed her eyes
briefly in despair.  Mulder was two minutes late.

"I think this needs to go," Zach murmured against her neck, his
free hand sliding to the bra clasp at her back and unfastening it
with one quick twist.  He pulled the garment down and off her
arms, dropping it casually to the floor, and Scully trembled.

"And now..." he said, his fingers beginning to make their way
beneath the elastic of her panties, when they were both startled
by a sound from behind.

"Get your hands off her."

Scully almost sagged in relief at the welcome sound of Mulder's
voice, but Zach gripped her tightly around the waist again and
spun around to face Mulder as if he'd been expecting his enemy to
arrive. Mulder's face tightened when he saw Scully's state of
undress, but he didn't allow his hands to waver.  Now was no time
for modesty.

"Move away from her," he ordered again, his gun pointed directly
at Zach's head.

Zach laughed, bringing his own gun up to rest against Scully's
temple.

"It appears we're at a stand-off," he commented mildly, regarding
Mulder with amused eyes.

After a long, tense second, Mulder replied, "If you hurt her,
I'll kill you anyway."

"Then my torment will be over, but yours will go on forever,
Mulder," Zach gloated.  "How do you think the police will react
to the fact that you've killed *another* man?  Will they let you
off again?  Or will they take one look at you, renegade FBI agent
turned ex-con, and throw you back in prison so fast your head
will spin?"  He noted the twitch to Mulder's jaw and knew he'd
hit the right nerve.  "I think we both know the answer to that
question."

"Mulder, don't listen--"

"Shut up!" Zach hissed, tightening his grip painfully around her
and driving the barrel of the gun roughly against her head.  "You
just let the men handle this situation, Baby."

Scully's eyes narrowed at Zach's words, but she had the presence
of mind to remain quiet.  She was unable to fight him, and
arguing now would gain her nothing.

"So what's it gonna be, Mulder?" Zach taunted, his grin widening
at the other man's obvious uncertainty.  "Do you shoot me and go
back to prison, or let me take what belongs to me and go?"

"She's not yours," Mulder stated tersely.  "You weren't man
enough to keep her."

Zach's grin faded at the words, and he thought quickly for a
response that would throw Mulder even further off-balance.  "You
have it all, man," he commented, capturing Mulder's eyes with his
own piercing gaze. "Money, a nice house, a future...are you
really willing to risk it all for this little tramp?"

He gave Scully a shake as he spoke, and Mulder's finger tightened
on the trigger.

"She slept with me, you know," he went on, his tone confidential,
as if he was imparting a great secret.  "On our way out west, she
let me fuck her.  More than once.  She's nothing but a--"

Whatever vile name Zach had been about to assign to his ex-wife
was cut off as Mulder fired.  The report was deafening in the
closed room, and Zach stared at Mulder, a confused expression on
his face, a face which was rapidly turning bright red as blood
poured from the wound in his forehead and his body was driven
backward.

Mulder sagged against the wall, carefully placing the gun on the
dresser, and covered his face with his hands as Scully bent to
examine the man at her feet.

"Scully, please tell me he's not dead," Mulder moaned from behind
his hands, and Scully glanced up to see him sliding slowly down
the wall.

She rolled Zach over and felt for a pulse, feeling a combination
of sorrow, rage and joy when she found none.  Standing up and
wiping the blood from her fingers, Scully grabbed her robe off
the nearby chair and slipped it on, leaving the pile of her
clothing for evidence.

"Mulder," she said, squatting beside him and pulling his hands
from his face.  "Mulder, come on back to me."

"He can't be dead," Mulder whispered over and over.  "Please tell
me he's alive, Scully.  He can't be dead."

"Mulder, he is dead.  He can't hurt us ever again."

Mulder gave a strange laugh, and the sound of it frightened
Scully. It was the sound of a man about to fall over the edge.

"But don't you see, Scully," he said, choking back a sob, "he was
right. I didn't want to kill him.  I didn't mean to kill him, but
I couldn't let him--  Scully, he was right!"

"What?  Mulder, what are you talking about?" she asked, confused,
as she began tugging him to his feet.

"He was right, Scully!" Mulder practically yelled as he shook off
her hands.  He stood, and retreated toward the bedroom door,
refusing to turn his back on her, and Scully's blood froze when
he picked up the gun.

"Mulder--" she began, stretching out a hand in what she hoped was
a soothing manner.

"No!  I won't go back there!" he insisted, and she was astonished
to see tears making their way down his cheeks.  "I can't,
Scully."  His eyes pleaded with her for understanding.

"They won't send you back to prison, Mulder," she said
reassuringly, but wasn't certain if he even heard her.

"They will," he insisted, still slowly backing away as she
approached him with an equally slow pace.  "They'll take one look
at me, see what I've done, and throw away the key, and I *can't*,
Scully, I *can't* let them do that."

"You had no choice," she argued.  "They'll see that you had to do
it, that you were only defending your family," she asserted, but
he was beyond reason.  In Mulder's mind he was already back
behind bars.

He shook his head determinedly, raising the gun again, and just
as she was about to rush him, hoping to prevent his death if not
injury, Mulder was grabbed from behind by a pair of strong arms
and instantly relieved of the weapon he'd tried to turn on himself.
Scully breathed a long sigh of relief, and quickly took the gun
that Skinner extended to her.

Mulder struggled briefly in the other man's grasp, but quickly
gave up as if realizing the futility of attempting to fight
against both of them.  He stood stiffly, silently, as Skinner
released him.

"Sir, how did you happen--?" Scully began, and was interrupted
again by the entrance of Officers Waylon and Scott.

"Damn!" Scott exclaimed.  "First we get called away on an
emergency, then we're ordered to head back here because a
neighbor reported a gunshot coming from the house.  You people
certainly get your share of excitement."

Scully explained the situation as the two policemen examined the
scene, and the body, and called for assistance.  Mulder stood,
still as a statue against the wall, with Skinner nearby for
support.

"How did you happen to arrive just in time?" she was finally able
to ask him.

"I was on my way home from work and just had a funny feeling I
should check," he shrugged.  "It's only a couple of blocks out of
my way, so... Imagine my surprise when I found the front door
wide open and Mulder about to do himself in."

"Walter, he's convinced they're going to take him to jail over
this," Scully told him quietly.  "You've got to make him see that
won't happen.  He's so frightened now that I doubt he's taking
any of this in."

Skinner turned to Mulder, who had fear-widened eyes glued to the
two police officers.  "Mulder," he said, and received no
response.

"Mulder!"

Mulder turned a startled gaze to his friend.

"Nothing is going to happen to you," Skinner told him, and Mulder
shook his head vehemently, eyes closed in terror.

"They'll take me back, Walter," he muttered.  "I can't go back.
You should have let me--"

"No, Mulder, nobody is taking you to jail," Skinner insisted
firmly, and Officer Waylon raised his head.

"I'll need all three of you to come down to the station to give a
statement," he commented to Skinner, and the AD nodded.

"I understand that, Jack," he replied, "but Mulder here is afraid
he's going to be arrested."

Jack Waylon surveyed the scene before him, and the man who stood
white-faced and visibly shaking as his bathrobe-clad wife
attempted to comfort him.

"I don't think so, Mr. Skinner," he answered positively.  "Some
guy who escaped police custody, who was in jail for kidnapping
this woman, someone who was expected to come here, someone who
had threatened this man and is accused of shooting him breaks
into his house, tries to rape his wife, holds a gun on her...I
think most people would agree that what Mr. Mulder did here was
justified."

"Did you hear that, Mulder?" Skinner demanded, turning to face
his friend.  "We're going to the police station to give them a
statement, but you *will not* be arrested, do you understand?"
He gave Mulder's arm a little shake for emphasis.

Mulder nodded, barely perceptibly, but remained unconvinced.  He
fully expected to be slapped into handcuffs at any moment, and
was relieved when, as they loaded him into the police car half an
hour later, he was sandwiched between Scully and Skinner.
Scully's hands captured one of his and held on comfortingly, and
he squeezed her fingers lightly.  He felt ice-cold, and welcomed
her warmth.  Skinner didn't touch him, but the man's reassuring
presence was a slightly calming influence.  At least, he decided,
when they did arrest him, Skinner could put in a good word for
him, maybe make things go a little easier.

They pulled away from his house as an ambulance and two more
police cars were arriving.  Mulder watched the flashing lights as
they disappeared from view, then turned around and settled, his
heart beginning to break, between his wife and his friend.  He'd
had it all, he reminded himself sadly.  For once in his life, for
a painfully brief time, he'd had everything he desired.

Until twilight had fallen.

*****

Epilogue

*****

Journal of Fox Mulder

It's been a year now.  One year to the day since I walked out of
that place with Skinner having to practically drag me every step
of the way. One year since I was afraid to meet anyone's eyes,
since I was convinced every person I saw wanted to hurt me in
some way--one year since my life began anew.  Sometimes I can't
believe I've come so far, and yet I still have, to coin a phrase,
miles to go before I sleep.

If life is the sum total of all our experiences, I must have
lived enough for ten people in my forty-odd years.  Experience
has become a dirty word in some ways, and yet, I have no choice
but to continue pushing forward, meeting challenges and gaining
more of those experiences.  Scully assures me if I even consider
any other option she will make me pay, and that woman in a temper
is something to be feared. If I were to kill myself now, I have
no doubt she'd find a way to track down my ghost and exact
vengeance.

Luckily I no longer have the desire.

I was almost catatonic with fear as I rode in the back of that
police car the night I killed the bastard sonofabitch who tried
to destroy our lives.  The last time I'd ridden in a car like
that, it had taken me toward a hell that no innocent man should
ever have to experience. Certain I was on my way back to that
life, feeling resentful of Skinner and Scully for preventing my
sure escape, I sat like a stone between them, afraid that any
word or movement would send me into a fit of screaming, insane
terror.  I held myself in that detached state right up to the
time they sat me at a table across from the officer who was to
take my statement.  I opened my mouth to speak, praying to God,
any god who would listen, that they would believe my story.  
I meant to explain to them, coldly and dispassionately, why I 
had put a bullet into Morrow's deserving head, but to my horror 
the only thing that emerged was one choking sob after another. 
Finally I gave up, burying my head in my arms, and let it come. 
There was no way I could stop that wave of emotion anyway.  They 
ended up having to call Jess, drag her away from her dinner, to 
calm me down.  After half an hour of her gentle, soothing 
reassurances, I was able to reconstruct what I knew of the events 
that had transpired, and Scully and Walter filled in the blanks.
And then they told me I was free to go.  They had to tell me that
three times before I believed them.

We never did figure out how Morrow was able to get past all the
security the Gunmen had set up at our house.  They've gone over
it several times and are still mystified.  Now I suppose we'll
never know.  I hope nobody else is ever able to breach the
system, but then, as far as I know, no other madmen are out there
stalking us.  Unless someone I once had a hand in putting away
manages to escape or be released and comes after us.  Hey, it's
happened before, but I'm not losing any sleep over it.  Life is
too short for that.

Scully asked me, after we'd returned home that night, when I was
still looking over my shoulder expecting the police at my door
with a warrant at any moment, how I'd known to enter the house
silently with my gun drawn.  She was amazed when I told her,
because it was such a little thing, but it's one of those details
my mind has always noticed.  It was the mail.  Scully, every day
when she gets home from work, opens the door, hangs up her coat,
puts away her briefcase, then goes back outside to get the mail
from the box.  When I got home that night, her car was in the
driveway, but the mail was still in the box.  I knew something
had to be wrong, although I must admit, finding Zachary Morrow
with his arms around my nearly naked wife wasn't really what I
expected.  To be honest, I expected to find her gone again--gone
or lying dead on the floor with the next bullet meant for me.
Finding them in that position was a bit of a shock, but I had
already learned to trust her again--if I ever truly stopped.
Scully was angry and embarrassed at the situation, of course, but
once again she had gone along with Morrow in order to save her
own life, for which I am extremely grateful.  The life she saved
is very important to me.

As for me, well, life is good.  Now there's a phrase I never
thought I would use in reference to myself, and while certainly
not every wrinkle is ironed out, they're all well on the way to
blessed smoothness.  Emmie is almost legally ours now, with
nothing standing in the way except formalities, which our
attorneys assure us are nothing to worry about. Money does talk
after all, it appears, and the fact that Scully was married to
Emmie's father gives a lot of points to our side.  The other
couple who tried to adopt her out from under us won't win, and
another issue in our favor is that the courts granted us
temporary custody until the final decision was made.  She's
settled here, and I'm determined she's not going anywhere.  Now
she wants a dog.

Morrow's parents were a bit reluctant to see their granddaughter
with us at first, but eventually reason won out and they threw
their support behind us.  Better the Mulder family than
strangers, I suppose.  They are actually quite nice, in spite of
the fact that their only son was a lunatic, and while they loved
him they were never blind to his weaknesses.  And they just
happen to adore my wife.

Scully has scaled back her working hours to twenty a week so she
can do, as she puts it, 'the mommy thing', since this is the only
chance she'll ever have.  Emmie started kindergarten this fall,
and it is with an extreme lack of modesty that I announce she is
already miles ahead of the rest of her class.  Personally I think
they should skip her forward to at least the second grade, but
Scully refuses to talk to Emmie's teachers about it.  She thinks
I'm overly proud and perhaps she's right. I do love that little
girl as if she were our own, and soon, I hope, she'll carry the
Mulder name for the rest of her life. That was something we
approached her grandparents with cautiously, afraid that they
might want Emmie to remain a Morrow, and in spite of our rights
we would never have gone against their wishes.  As I said,
they're very nice people, and they mean the world to Emmie.  We
finally settled on Emmaline Renee Morrow Mulder.  After all, we
can't pretend her father never existed.

Mr. Morrow looked at us both a little sadly when we broached the
subject, and with visible tears in his eyes told us finally that
he'd prefer Emmie not be saddled with the name that her father
sullied.  He said the Mulder name seemed like a good one to him,
and he'd be proud to have his granddaughter known by it.  Well, I
got choked up at that, of course, and my always-understanding
wife stepped right in and took charge, thanking them sweetly,
then got me the heck out of there before I could embarrass
myself.  God, I love that woman.

Amazing, isn't it, how many scenes of catastrophe had to play out
in both our lives before we could finally admit we loved each
other?  At the same time even, rather than one loving and the
other running away, which Skinner says is a game we've been
playing ever since he's known us.  He told Jess that and she just
laughed and said nobody in her universe was more skilled at
game-playing than the Mulder family, and that we would be working
on that in our next session.  Jess, by the way, is well on her
way to becoming Mrs. Walter Skinner, if you ask me, although
Walter insists they're only dating casually.  They do an awful
lot of that 'casual' dating--he went out with her at least three
times last week that I know of, and since I believe he's holding
out on me, I'm guessing the true number was closer to five.  He
may protest outwardly, but Jess has plans for that man.  I can
see it in her eyes. It's nice to finally see him happy with
someone--he's had a lonely existence since his divorce all those
years ago.

All those years...no.  I absolutely refuse to get sucked into
maudlin memories today.  Scully has been walking around as if on
eggshells, seemingly afraid to say or do anything that might make
me remember what this anniversary means--as if I could forget.
As badly as I wanted to ignore those memories, I can't.  Jess has
managed to convince me of something I knew all along--I have to
master the memories rather than letting them master me.

This morning I finally got up the nerve to drive past Scully's
old apartment building, then in a fit of self-confidence I paid a
visit to Mr. Perrino, my former landlord.  He was cheerful, as
always, and I was proud of the fact that I barely felt a twinge
of painful emotion. Those days seem so far removed from the man I
am now that it's almost like I dreamed them.

I met up with Old Smokey again a couple of weeks ago when I
dropped by the Hoover Building to have lunch with Walter.  He was
leaning against the wall outside the office Kersh used to
occupy--I'm not certain of the new AD's name--and as I passed he
gave me one of his trademark sinister smiles.  With my new-found
self confidence I strode right up to him and asked him a question
that had been bothering me for weeks.

"Why," I asked, "did you warn me about Morrow's release?  What
benefit did you receive?"

He stared me down for a long time, and at first I didn't think he
was going to answer.  I was about to walk away when he reached
into his coat pocket for his packet of smokes, lowering his gaze
as he spoke.

"I'm an old man, Fox," he said softly, a faraway look in his eyes
when they again met mine.  "I've done things I'm not necessarily
proud of, but everything I did, I did for a reason.  I've known
you since you were born.  Your father was a friend of mine, back
when we were young men."  He shrugged his shoulders casually.  "I
saw no reason to let Morrow ruin your life, now that you were
settled.  And happy."

He took a puff of the damned cancer stick in his mouth and I
think my jaw hit the floor at his next words.

"There's too little happiness in this world.  You should grab
yours while you can."

He winked at me--that's right, actually *winked* at me--and
walked away, leaving me staring after him like some kind of
brainless wonder. I was still there several minutes later when
Walter found me.

"What are you doing here, Mulder?" he asked, sounding puzzled.
I'd been supposed to meet him in his office and he'd come looking
for me.

Shaking my head in confusion, I just laughed a little and told
Walter that I thought I must have seen an apparition.  It struck
me that although the smoking man had nearly destroyed my life
five years ago, in a way he had been instrumental in saving our
lives.  We might have still come out all right if he hadn't
warned us about Morrow's escape, but probably not.  I'd have
walked into the house that day, perplexed about the mail, yet
unsuspecting, and Morrow might have killed us both.

I took particular delight in the way Walter tried not to roll his
eyes when I made the apparition remark.  He always used to do
that to me when I worked for him.

I've decided I don't care about any of it any longer--the smoking
man, the Consortium, even colonization.  Let someone else fight
the good fight. After all, they've been doing it for years.
According to Skinner, they might be making headway in their
efforts to resist the aliens that wanted to take over Earth, so
perhaps there is hope for the future; the difference is that now
the hope doesn't rest with me, and that's the way I want it. I
want no part of any of it any longer--all my energy goes into
caring about things close to home now.

It's funny, you know.  One year ago today, I had lost everything.
Cancerman had taken me apart completely, but in putting myself
back together I've ended up happier than ever.  I've found the
only thing that really matters is being with those I care about.
I may not be pursuing high ideals any longer, but for once in my
life, I'm finally *living* my life, however many days or years of
it I have left, one minute at a time. Enjoying my wife and my
daughter and my studies and hell yes, my money.

It's good to be the king.

*******

THE END