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A Few Good Things Remain

by KimK

Title: A Few Good Things Remain
Author: KimK
Rating: R just to be safe
Keywords: Post series, MSR, Angst
Spoilers: KNOW THE SHOW! Most notably The Truth. Time Line: Set two years after the events in The Truth, Chapter One August 15th, 2004.
Summary: "Reflect upon your present blessings,

          of which every man has many;
          not on your past misfortune, 
          of which all men have some."
          -Charles Dickens-

Archive: Fine by me, just leave it as it is and let me know about it!
Feedback: That would be nice. Please. I ain't too proud to beg, but I would rather it not come to that. knigit1013@yahoo.com Disclaimer: Ah yes, the disclaimer . . . the bane of my existence. If you must know these characters are not mine and never will be. Chris Carter and the gang are responsible for this stroke of genius; I just like to have my way with his creation sometimes. Don't sue, I'm filthy poor.
Thanks!: HUGE thank you to Sara Bowen, my beta and friend in whom I have way too much in common with and yet have never met. She does a fantastic job in fixing my thoughtless mistakes. She also did her share in guiding me through this and keeping my juices flowing. Her endurance for my seven page e-mails on advice fascinates me. Also thank you Gillian and David for your hard work and amazing chemistry that gives us something to write about. Thanks goes to CC and Co. for, as annoying as it may be, leaving some things unsaid so we can do with the plot what we will. Definite thanks goes to the readers as well and your generous feedback. <g>
Author's Notes: I have A LOT to say before you can read surprise. Alright, it amazes me that I even decided to write this story. Personally, I am not a huge fan of much of that happened after Season Seven (actually if they had gone ahead and ended the show with Existence, it would have been fine by me), but hey, sometimes an idea hits and won't leave you alone so you are forced to write it down. I didn't hate what happened so much that I want to get all homicidal on CC, but what a mess he left for us writers to work with! Some amazing things happened with the series, but some very bad things that can never go away happened as well (William's adoption we'll get into that in a second and those blasted Super Soldiers are some fine examples). I did what I could to fix some stuff, but some of it just had to stay as it was. Sara and I have talked a lot about little William and how his 'removal' was unnecessary, Sara stating that Scully would have quit the Bureau and found Mulder before even thinking about giving up her child. However, to do it our way would make this an Alternate Universe fic and I am aiming to tie up some loose ends as well as I can, so I am staying with the whole adoption scenario for this story. As you read, a lot of you may disagree with how I handle the issue of William, but my end notes will explain why I did what I did, that is if the story fails to do so on its own. Overall I think y'all will be satisfied with what happens at least I hope so! Now I just want to point out something. I am a characterization fiend! In my stories I really try to capture the characters as well as I know how and I am close to incapable of reading stories that do otherwise. However, Mulder and Scully are a little different in this story (in my opinion), but I have my reasons. One of those reasons being that it has been two years and their lives have changed dramatically, therefore they have changed as well. That's all I have to say about that. All uncredited quotes will be credited at the end. There will be several more notes at the end of this story, but until then thank you and please enjoy!

I think over again
My small adventures,

My fears.

Those small ones that seemed so big...

For all the vital things I had to get and to reach. And yet, there is only one Great Thing.

The Only Thing.

To live to see the Great Day that dawns, And the Light that fills the World.

Inuit Song

---

Chapter One - Home Abroad

The clean, humid air clears my lungs as I watch the sky change from azure to a violet and orange haze. From where I sit, it looks as though the sun is settling into the ocean, as the distant mist gives the illusion of steam rising. There is a light breeze blowing, so I wrap the afghan around my shoulders to ward off the chill.

It's been two years now. Mulder and I tried to fool ourselves into thinking we could be safe in the States, but common sense reared its head. After six months of hiding and escaping close calls we made way to the Mexican border. Then we made our way even further south until we decided that the only escape would be an island. We made a home in the Turks Islands.

We didn't want to go too far away from home, just far enough to be safe. Or at least far enough away to feel safe. We've taken as many precautions as we are able to and not feel like prisoners in our own lives. We have also been planning to make some changes. The need to have William back gnaws at my insides and I know that Mulder aches to see him as well. So, if anything, we want to find him. Even if it is just to know he is alive and safe.

Mulder also wants to save the world. In that way he was restored to me. He doesn't know how or if it is possible, but he has hope. He has me. He has come far from the shell of a man he was two years ago.

We've kept in touch with few people from home. I sometimes mail Mom a letter, just to assure her that we remain safe and alive. It wasn't until we had left New Mexico that she found out we'd helped Mulder escape from his impending death.

Monica and John have left the Bureau and are now protecting Gibson in the mountains. John, Mulder and I all know the pain of losing a son, therefore the protection of Gibson is necessary for more than the obvious reasons.

Skinner and Kersh are holding down the fort at the Bureau. Mulder and I were truly worried for our friends' lives. Long ago we found an ally in Skinner. Close watch is kept on Skinner now, but Kersh has fooled those who seek to destroy us well. He maintains their trust while he fights for us. It is still hard to believe that Kersh has become one of our few allies.

Monica is doing what she can to find out where William was sent. Just to see his face would give me some closure. To let Mulder see him would ease the guilt that I feel as well. Mulder never really got to know his son. He spent as much time as circumstances allowed before he had to leave. That was our only choice. They bonded quickly and forever. Their attachment and love grew and I pray that Mulder will someday get to experience that with his son again even if just for a short while.

Sometimes, deep down, we hope that I will get pregnant again. We fear it too. It's so maddening to want something and fear its possibility at the same time. Fear kept me from Mulder for so long, in so many ways.

First, I wanted to love him and him me, but to let that happen frightened me to no end. When it finally did happen the fear vanished and I was blessed with the pure bliss that should come from such a constant and strong love. Then, when he was abducted, I wanted him to return but feared what the effects of his return would be.

He died. My worst fear had come to be. However, he came back to me.

He always comes back.

To have him leave again was necessary at the time. But soon I yearned for him. I ached for him and his touch. The fear was minimal in his absence this time. I wanted him back, safely, in my arms. And he came back.

He always comes back.

As I think these thoughts, I see his dark silhouette on the white sand. He is slowly approaching me, his arms filled with things he got from the market.

We've been living off this island having left what we could afford to bring with us in our SUV back in the New Mexico ruins. Sure, as we traveled those six months from state to state we picked up odds and ends, but this island has provided so much and become a haven to us both.

We were able to drain Mulder's bank account while traveling from place to place inland. He has loads of cash he obtained from his mother and father's deaths. His inheritance from his parents has left us very comfortable.

We also had Mom get rid of both our belongings, so when she can she sends us the money made from that. I hate to sell my memories, but you do what you have to do. Mulder and I have a new life now and new memories to make.

My clothing consists of tank tops, tee shirts, sarongs and sun dresses. I have a few pair of jeans and shorts as well. Mulder still opts for plain shirts and pants. He's never been one for shorts. Of course, living in D.C. and working in a suit required occupation, one does not get much of a chance to wear shorts.

Today, like most days now, has been leisurely, so I have worn a light blue tank top with a multi-colored sarong skirt since this morning. Mulder is only a few feet away now, his smile big, wearing a pair of khakis and an olive green tee shirt. He looks the same, just a little older. The way he should look now. Aged with beauty, not weary and broken. The escape has been good for him.

I've changed. My hair is blonde and passed my shoulders now. My red hair served as a red cape to the bull, therefore we both decided that it would be best to dye it. It took some getting used to, but I like it now. The sun was hard on my skin at first, but now I am somewhat darker than I used to be and have gained some freckles as well. I've lost some weight too.

Mulder pauses on the top step then turns to see the sun finish its descent into the ocean.

"The sunset is beautiful this evening," I say distantly, my eyes fixed on the purple that is now becoming navy.

"So are you." Mulder turns and grins at me. I blush.

I avert my eyes out of embarrassment and begin to get up, a small smile having crossed my face. We've made love hundreds of times and know each other's bodies like an explorer knows his map, and yet a mere compliment still brings color to my face.

"What did you buy?" I drape the afghan across the back of the chair and saunter up to Mulder.

He looks down at me and captures my lips with his. The kiss is slow and pleasant. He pulls away and replies, "Fruit, bread, chicken and cheese." His mouth is only inches from mine as he speaks.

We pull completely away from each other and I take a sack from one of his arms. Together we walk into our small, beautiful cottage.

Our cottage has a bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen and a little living area. I spend most of my time on the porch or in the bedroom. We rent the place from a friendly couple, Janet and Chris. They moved here when they were married and fell in love with the island. I too have fallen in love with this island.

I set my sack down on the counter. As I reach in to unpack the groceries, Mulder stops me.

"What?"

Mulder grins, then drops the hand he had brought up in a halting motion. "All right, go ahead."

I proceed to reach inside. My hands brush against a soft fabric. I slowly bring the gift from the bag. Shaking it out, I realize it is a dress. Not a simple sun dress like the few that I own, but something far more beautiful.

It's a halter, with an uneven hem. The fabric is soft and flowing. The color is turquoise.

"Mulder . . ."

"There's more."

Discarding the dress on a near by chair, I give him my 'you're crazy' look, but continue to seek out the treasure he has brought me.

Inside I find a white box. Large enough to hold a small necklace or bracelet. Perfect size for a ring.

I look up at him, his eyes urging me to continue on, then I remove the lid. Inside I find an antique gold ring with the metal weaving intricately to make a knotting pattern, diamonds scattered wherever they please. A dark blue round gem stone rests on top.

It's unique. Simple yet complicated. So very Mulder. So very me. So very us.

I feel the moisture in my eyes begin to build and then Mulder begins to talk at a rapid pace.

"I know I should have done this a long time ago, but I never knew when the best time would be and then I saw this today and I knew it was a sign because it automatically made me think of you, so I bought it." Mulder rambles when he is nervous. "And even though I am not sure it can happen now, unless you want it to happen now, I want to make my life with you official and "

I interrupt him with two fingers to his mouth. "Shh, breathe."

He sighs heavily, his eyes closing. "Scully," he says after I drop my hand, "we've been married for years, but not in the way I think we should be. And not in the way I know you want to be."

I push the ring onto the finger it is meant to be on and wrap my arms around his neck, feathering kisses on his jaw line giving my answer.

"I haven't even asked yet!" He bellows with laughter.

I place my lips by his ear and whisper, "Why ask if you already know the answer, Mulder?" I pull back to look at him.

His green eyes are smiling at me, them having gone a shade darker. "God, I love you."

I simply nod and press my lips to his in a fiery kiss. His hands come up, his fingers weaving through my hair to pull me closer.

Mulder pulls away briefly, breathless and asks, "What about dinner?" He instinctively knows where our kisses are headed.

"Dinner can wait," is my reply as I nip at his Adam's apple.

"Okay," he chokes out.

We make our way clumsily to our white linen bedroom, dinner forgotten.

Our hands fumble as we undress and finally we tumble to the soft mattress and we make love.

New, exciting, slow. A celebration.

Afterwards, we go back to the kitchen. Throwing together a quick dinner, we eat in bed.

By ten o'clock, Mulder begins to doze off. I clear the bed and settle beside him, my arms wrapped around his torso.

The last thing I hear is Mulder's heavy, relaxed breathing, the ocean and the rain hitting the roof.

Chapter Two - Talking, Walking and Getting Caught in the Rain

I wake to find Scully snuggled close to my side. Her head rests on my bare chest. She isn't asleep though. Her eyes are staring at the wall in front of our bed. It's a thoughtful stare.

I stretch my arm to the change tray on my night stand and fish out a penny. Scully remains still.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I place the penny on my stomach, right in front her eyes.

I see her eyes shift to the penny and her hand comes up to take it from my skin.

"I wonder what he looks like." Her voice is almost a whisper and laced with sadness.

I nod, instantly understanding who she is talking about.

"A lot like you, I would think. Blue eyes, ivory skin. We'll say he has your nose so you can rest easier at night." I shake her with the arm I have wrapped around her shoulder and smile.

Scully wrinkles her nose."I hate my nose."

"I love your nose."

She brushes her cheek over my chest, her hair sliding over her face. I can tell she's using her hair to hide her face on purpose. Anytime I pay her a compliment the cutest blush spreads across her cheeks. She hates it but it makes me love her more each time.

"He has to look like you too, Mulder," she comments from her curtain of hair.

"Alright. Dark hair, strong jaw. Big feet."

"Already?!" She twists her head so that her eyes meet mine.

"Only if he has the Mulder gene. I had huge feet when I was three."

It is then that I realize how long it has been since I have seen him. Three years. He'll be four in February.

When he first said 'daddy' it wasn't to me. When he took his first steps and fell after five steps, I wasn't there to catch him. When he made his switch to solid food I wasn't there to introduce him to Bob's Burger Joint's burger.

Neither was Scully.

I understand why she did it. I would have done the same thing. In fact, had I been there with her, I would have been the one encouraging her to protect our son anyway she could, even if it meant giving him up. It doesn't ease the pain though. However, maybe if I had been there we could be living this life with him.

I now seriously begin to wonder what William must look like.

Scully reaches up and brushes a lock of hair from my forehead.

"They're trying to find him, Mulder. We will see him again."

I feel the lump in my throat and hear it in hers.

We want a family so bad. In the few times Scully has been sick, before we buy flu medicine we buy a pregnancy test. They always come back negative. It is at those times I don't know whether to be relieved or saddened.

Our intentions aren't to replace William, no. It's just that Scully and I tasted the sweetness of parenthood for such a short amount of time. I never really got the chance to be a father, only an acquaintance. But it was a beautiful moment in my life, no matter how brief.

"Let's get up," Scully says as she throws the remainder of the sheets off of us.

I bob my head once in compliance and head for the shower.

"I'll get breakfast started." She is feigning cheerfulness. She tries so hard. And yes, it just makes me love her more.

When we have both showered, had breakfast and dressed, we head for the white sandy beach.

It is so amazing to not have a job. I would get one, but most of the jobs on this island involve trade and that could expose us. Plus, we have the money we need, plenty, so there is no point in getting a job when I can spend the rest of my life with Scully.

Scully and I have aliases of course, we aren't amateurs. Old friends of the Gunmen were able to create new identities for us at short notice. She goes by Kate and I Nick. We are 'married' of course, our last name being Sanders.

In private we shun our alias identities, but we have grown used to Kate or Nick being shouted when we encounter familiar faces.

Scully loves the island. The people, the weather, the lifestyle. Sometimes I get bored though. I love going to the market new shipments come in each day but that is really all I have done in the last two years, as far as activities outside the house are concerned anyway.

We've done the tourist things parasailing, scuba diving and even deep sea fishing but something is missing. That something is somewhere in the States.

The only thing that I will never tire of is Scully. Looking at her. Talking with her. Laughing with her. Making love to her.

I search the kiosks in search of her face. When I spot her, she is not looking at any of the fine, exotic souvenirs. No, she is looking at the ring I gave her.

I hadn't even planned to stop for anything other than food yesterday, but as I took my usual route, the dark blue gem caught my eye. I can't even remember what it is called, but it is rare and beautiful. Like Scully.

That was why I bought it. That is how it reminded me of her. Rare and beautiful.

It called to me, so I answered. I knew that at some point I needed to marry, really marry, Scully and that this ring would get me to do it. She deserves marriage, a life, a family.

I guess I'll have to do.

She said yes. I never expected her to say no, we love each other too much. But, God, she accepted.

I sneak up behind her, catching her in the act. She has yet to notice me. I pull her long hair away from her neck and kiss her behind the ear.

She looks beautiful as a blonde, but I truly miss her auburn locks. Maybe if we survive whether I mean the next few months or Colonization I'm not sure she will go back to her red hair.

No matter what, she is a vision. Always.

"Hi," she says, her hand coming up to caress my stubbled cheek. She turns and wraps her arms around my neck, leaning to rest her forehead against mine. Then ever so quietly she whispers, "I love you, Mulder."

Her lips brush against mine. I am about to deepen the kiss when a jolly hello interrupts.

"Aren't they adorable?" I hear Janet exclaim from behind me.

"Hi Janet, hi Chris," Scully greets sweetly.

"I haven't seen you two in days, what have you been up to lately? " Janet asks suggestively.

"Oh, you know this and that," I reply. The couple is amiable and generous, but I rather enjoy keeping my life with Scully private.

I entwine our fingers, sweeping my thumb over her skin. She leans her head into my shoulder and we both listen to Janet rant about something or other. I'm not really sure. I don't think Chris knows either, for he continues to look around, distracted.

Janet slows down and I sense her coming to the end of her story.

"So anyway, it was just absolutely frustrating. Can you believe they would do such a thing?"

Scully shakes her head and I reply, "It's too unbelievable, the idea alone makes my skin crawl."

Janet stares at me confused and almost comments, when something catches her eye.

"Good Lord, Kate, what is that on your hand?" Janet snatches Scully's hand and stares intently at Scully's rare jewel. And I stare at mine.

"Nick bought it. You know how he has been waiting to find the perfect one and, well, he did." Scully is beaming.

"It is absolutely divine. Chris take a look at this rock!"

Chris turns his weary eyes to the ring on Scully's hand.

"That's lovely, dear." He sounds so bored. I'm not even sure if he just called Scully dear or his wife.

With her eyes still wide in awe, Janet drops Scully's hand. "Well all I can say is it was worth the wait. It's so beautiful, I bet there is not a thing like it in this world."

Scully continues to beam and nods her thanks. She then looks up at me and somehow her smile widens. We lock eyes and everything slows down.

Why couldn't our lives have always been this simple?

"Well, I insist you two join us for dinner tonight. It has been way too long and I'm sure there are some things we could catch up on."

Don't count on it. What you see is what you get Janet.

"Is that alright with you Nick?"

"That's fine by me Kate. What time would you like us there?" I'm directing my question to Janet but my eyes are still fixed on Scully.

"Oh, sevenish. We aren't picky."

"Alright, well, Kate and I have some more running around to do, but we will be there."

"Marvelous!" Janet squeals.

"We'll see you tonight, Chris," I put my hand out to shake his and he takes it. Chris isn't a cold man, he's just quiet. I hate to think who really wears the pants in the family. He smiles as we shake hands and then Scully and I head to wherever.

I've never been sure on Chris and Janet's ages and I've never asked. I'm sure Scully told me at some point, but I have since forgotten. They are around our ages though, maybe slightly older.

They've been married for seventeen years, I know that much. Scully and I aren't but seven years behind them with the marriage of our life together thus far. Kate and Nick have been married for two years.

As usual, Scully and I walk aimlessly down the street. Sometimes we stumble across a new shop or a new sight when we take our walks, but it all comes down to walking and talking in the end.

We've spent the last two years catching up on things we never had the chance to talk about while working together and being separated. Happy childhood memories, in depth explanations of past relationships, reminiscing old cases and so forth. A lot of the time we talk about the times when we found the other irresistible. That's my favorite thing to talk about, because I get a kick out of embarrassing Scully.

Right now we are talking about what to say at dinner tonight. Janet is more than likely going to pry into our lives, therefore we need to be prepared.

"Let's just be honest, Mulder. I'll say I have two brothers, a mom, a deceased sister and father. I mean, surely she won't ask me to go much further than that. The few times we have had dinner with them, we have avoided talking about our lives. Maybe if we give her glimpse, Janet will leave us alone."

"Are we talking about the same Janet?"

Scully chuckles quietly and continues. "You don't have to say much, if you don't want to."

"I'll just tell her you're my only family. If need be I'll go into the pitiful, yet vague, story of me being the last Mulder."

She brushes off my sad comment and turns our bodies back in the direction of our hut.

"We should head back, Mulder. The mail will be coming soon and there could be some news from Monica and John. I also think it may rain." She pulls at me, but I don't budge.

"Why do you put up with me?"

She rolls her eyes at my question, her head moving with them in exaggeration, her eyes then landing on me in a stare. "You don't seriously want to go into that again do you?"

"It just baffles me, that's all."

Without uttering another word, she stands as high as her flat sandals will allow and plants a majestic kiss on my lips. This is one of the thousands of reasons I could never give this woman up. Another one is she is the only one who has had the audacity to stick with me all these years. To add another of the many, she is all I want, need and truly trust in this world.

A crack of thunder causes her to pull away from me and I curse the skies for the interruption.

Turning her eyes heavenward, Scully meets the clouds just in time for a raindrop to land on her cheek. She wipes it away and grabs my hand.

"We better run!" She exclaims with a smile on her face and the rain begins to kiss her skin. As she pulls on me in an attempt to sprint hand in hand, I halt her action once again.

"Not so fast."

"Mulder, we can't stand out here, we'll catch cold and that's only one of the bad things that could happen. It could get pretty electrical out here."

The clouds break open to prove her point and pour an ocean of water on us. I laugh and pull her to me to wrap my arms around her waist.

"Chills, Mulder. Fever and "

Before she can bluster on about the threats of getting caught in the rain, I catch her lips instead. I've never kissed her in the rain before. She always has us inside before it can happen. Well not this time, Dr. Scully. Colds and pneumonia be damned, I'm kissing you in the rain and, from the response, you're liking it. And she's right, it just got very electrical out here.

Her arms come up to wrap around my neck and pull me closer. I pull away from her at another crack of thunder.

"Now, my dear, we can go home."

I release her, her feet meeting the soft sand and engulf her hand with mine. We run back to our home, laughing. The others scurrying probably think we have lost our minds, our howling joyous laughter suggesting such a thing.

Chapter Three - Hopes, Regrets and Rain Checks

We shake our heads, water flying in every direction, as we enter the living area. I slip my sandals off and immediately head for the stove and counter.

I'm freezing, but God it was worth it. Mulder always finds a way to create new memories for me. Happy ones with no regrets or worries. Well, maybe I have to worry about being taken ill, but I could care less.

Throwing a kettle of water on the stove, I watch as Mulder retrieves the mail from the mail box outside our door. Our mail gets delivered to Janet and Chris and then they deliver it to us.

"Here ya go," he slaps the mail on the counter, "you sort it, I'm going to change and get your robe."

I nod with a smile and reach for the mail.

A letter from Mom, a letter from a new trading company and a letter from Monica and John. I cast the first two aside, knowing their news can wait. I'm anxious to find whatever the contents of Monica's letter could be.

I open it to find it to be brief.

Dear Dana and Mulder,

We think we have a lead on William. Since the adoption organization was not very cooperative, we have had to do a step by step search. It has taken some time and I know you have been awaiting news. It looks good. We should know in no more than two weeks. We are all doing well. Please, take care of each other.

Love,
Monica, John and Gibson

I read the letter again, the words too wonderful to be true, before I yell for Mulder. He appears with my robe in hand, sporting jeans and his only sweater.

"What is it, Dana?" The use of my first name reveals his concern along with the tone in his voice.

I give him the letter, unable to voice the news myself. He hands me my robe and I strip my clothes off, my mind wandering. I slip the robe on in time to see his face.

Tears have pooled in his eyes and as I look at him, I cry. We collapse into each other's arms.

After a few minutes we pull away and I tend to the brewing tea. Mulder's warm arms encircle me from behind and I smile beyond these tears of joy. He plants a sweet kiss at my temple.

"What time is it?" I ask.

I feel Mulder look behind him. "A little passed five."

I gently slap his arms to release me and he complies. I pour our tea and hand his to him.

"I'm going to shower, again. Counting the rain this will be my third today."

"Why bother, you're just going to get wet again. Plus there is that whole risk of electrocution thing." He sips his tea with a smile.

We rarely talk about any news we get from Monica about William. We did once and it got too emotional. Therefore, we change subjects as soon as we can following whatever news we receive.

"True," I state simply. I drink my tea quickly, the heated liquid instantly warming my body.

"Hey, you got a letter from your mom." Mulder reaches in front of him to pick up the letter and hands it to me.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot." I open the letter to find it brief as well. "She just wants to know how we are. Bill and Charlie keep asking about me and she doesn't know what to tell them. She misses us both."

I throw the letter aside with care and turn in the direction of the bedroom.

"I'm going to go dry my hair at least and lie down for a bit."

I close the bedroom door in time to see Mulder tear up the promotion letter from the new trading company. They pop up like daisies on this island. I guess it's that way on any island.

Behind the door I hear him shout 'okay' and I smile at his delayed response.

After drying my hair, I slip under the covers and close my eyes. At such news I would usually be restless, but the rain makes me tired. So does crying.

I wake to Mulder and I spooning. He is above the covers and he is nuzzling my neck. His hand creeps under the covers and begins to make its way under my robe. I spot the time and stay his hand with mine. "We don't have time, Mulder."

"They said sevenish."

I give him a reprimanding look and he releases a dramatic sigh. "Fine, but do I at least get a rain check?"

I touch my lips to his in a short, answering kiss.

Mulder gets ready in haste. My hair chooses not to cooperate, so I throw it up into a ponytail. It is probably for the best, for it is still raining outside.

I throw open my side of the closet and seek out something to wear. I had planned to wear my new dress, it being a wonderful opportunity to do so, but the weather just won't allow it today.

A red and white sarong dress I rarely wear beckons me, so I wrap it around me. I'll put my sandals on when we are leaving.

I find Mulder in the kitchen, fingering the letter we had received. I suppose he hears my footsteps, because he drops the letter and turns to me.

He plasters on a smile and walks up to me.

"All right, beautiful, let us leave for a wonderful evening of Janet prying," his smile grows more genuine at his own comment.

I smile in kind then lace his fingers with mine. I slip on my sandals as we exit. The rain is softer now and the sunset can still be seen beyond the dark clouds. The thunder is distant and the lightning brief and unthreatening as we walk across the beach.

Mulder seems distant; the news settling in with him. He has a hint of a smile playing on his lips, but his eyes don't seem to be paying attention to anything around us. I squeeze his hand and he answers back with a squeeze of his own.

Everything's going to be okay.

Chapter Four - Our Personal Lives for 300, Janet

I knock gently on the door with my free hand. The words from Monica are still fresh in my mind. I'm doing what I can to prepare for the evening, but the possibility of seeing William again just won't allow it.

I am so anxious from the idea alone. Will he like me? Will I be able to let go once I have been given the gift of at least seeing him again? My questions are interrupted by the opening of the door.

"Nick! Kate! Come in." Janet opens the door and ushers us inside.

"You look beautiful tonight, Janet. I love your dress." Scully has this small envy for the life of Janet and Chris. They have a lot of money, Chris being in the trades business, and travel all the time. Therefore, they own a large beach house and lovely things. Scully and I aren't frivolous people with our money, but it doesn't mean envy doesn't creep in sometimes. I think Scully wanted to wear her new dress tonight to show Janet, but she still looks gorgeous and surpasses Janet in so many ways.

"Oh, this old thing, thank you Kate. Have a seat, Chris is making some coffee while dinner finishes."

"It smells wonderful," Scully comments as we sit ourselves on the large sofa.

"Just a salad and Mediterranean pasta. Amazing weather today, don't you think? I hope you two didn't get caught in it earlier today."

Scully and I smile at the memory, but say nothing. Chris emerges from the kitchen with a coffee tray.

"Here you go, it's nice and warm. It'll take care of the chill," Chris sets the tray down on the coffee table as he speaks.

"Thanks Chris," I say and Scully nods her thanks as well.

We didn't get too wet on the walk over here, surprisingly. The warm air of their home is drying us off quickly. I wrap my arm around Scully's shoulders, just in case she was chilled. Who am I kidding? I wrap my arm around her because I can. Because we're married and that's what married couples do. My mind flashes back to a case where it was our job to pose as married. Now it is our pleasure.

"Alright, the curiosity has been eating away at me for the past year. How did you two beautiful people meet?"

Round one of Janet's Questionnaire has begun.

We both sit silently, not sure what to say. Maybe this is something we should have talked about. Scully chimes in with a short, brilliant answer.

"We used to work together."

Nothing more brilliant than the truth.

"Really? How delightful. What did you do?" Janet sits back in her seat as if waiting for a long drawn out explanation.

If only the simple truth could suffice in this situation.

"Well," I begin, unsure of what to say, "we, uh, were in law enforcement." Please let that be all I have to say.

"Ah, I see. So in-office relationships can work out. Fancy that."

She wants to hear more. Her silence and expression shout 'tell me more', but if we say anymore, I'd have to kill her.

My own silence tells her that is all she gets, but somehow I think the mystery satisfies her.

"Tell me about your families back home," she probes.

At least we discussed this possibility. I shake Scully softly, urging her to tell of her family.

"Oh, my mother lives on the east coast of the States and I have two brothers who are in the Navy."

"Two brothers, wow. No sisters?"

"Well, I had a sister but," she clears her throat and breaks eye contact briefly before continuing, "she died several years ago."

"Oh, I'm so sorry dear. Do you mind if I ask how?"

I mind, but I'm just her lover and protector as best as I know how.

"She was shot." Scully says it quickly and with a force that demands no more be asked about the subject.

"Gracious," Janet whispers.

Chris leans forward in his chair. "You have a father?"

A small, sad smile crosses Scully's lips. "I did. He passed away several years back as well."

Chris has the decency to sense a sensitive subject and drops it there. Janet doesn't mean any harm, she's just nosy.

"How about you Nick?" Janet has fallen silent, so Chris is asking the questions for her.

"Kate's all the family I've got." I decide to stick with the answer I had earlier decided on. Chris won't have me say much more than that.

We must look somewhat pitiful in their eyes now. I could just be paranoid.

"Do you plan to have a family of your own someday?"

Scully and I look at each other with wistful smiles, then turn our attention back to Chris and Janet.

"We're hoping," is all Scully says.

I couldn't have said it better myself, Scully.

The scent of dinner begins to fill the room, at last. Eating has a tendency to slow down the snooping. We are told to leave the coffee on the table and make way to the kitchen.

Scully's eyes light up at the sight of the dining area. There is an unnecessarily large chandelier over a much too large table in the middle of the room. All the proper eating utensils are spread out along side their finest china. We take our seats in time to see Janet bring out dinner.

"Dig in," Chris orders casually. And we do.

The evening goes by rather smoothly. Scully and I aren't asked much else about our lives. I think, they think we were part of our local PD and I let them continue to think that.

I sneak in compliments about Scully when I can and revel in the sight of watching her squirm in embarrassment.

"She is beautiful though, isn't she?" I give a closed smile and feel a gentle kick under the table.

"Nick . . ." she warns me playfully. She meant it as threatening, but I know better.

"Absolutely precious," Janet smiles, referring to us as a couple, not to Scully. Although I'd have to agree with her if she had meant Scully.

"How old are you two, anyway? We know you've been married for two years, but not your ages." Chris has already finished his meal and is sipping his wine.

"I'm 43."

"40."

"Wow, you sure don't look it," Chris extols. Janet simply nods in agreement with her husband.

It is interesting to hear that. I always thought years of chasing conspiracies added years to my age. I guess this 'vacation' has done me some good. There were times when I thought Scully looked older than she was, mostly when she was fighting her cancer, but now it seems as though this island has served as an anti-aging solution and rewarded her for her struggles with youthful beauty.

A dessert hasn't been mentioned, so I drain my wine glass of its contents and toss my napkin on the table. I think it's time to leave.

"You ready to go home, honey?" I ask Scully.

"Mmhmm, I'm exhausted." She gets up from her chair and waits for me to stand with her. "Thank you for such a lovely evening. Dinner was delicious."

"Yes, thank you both," I add.

They see us to the door and wish us a good evening. Janet mentions we should do it again sometime. I just nod and grab Scully's hand.

We go home and make love for no other reason than the sake of making love. I guess I'm cashing in on my rain check.

We fall asleep in each other's arms, the rain having ceased along with our bodies.

Chapter Five - The Test

I haven't felt well for the last few days. At first I blamed the pasta, but food poisoning isn't usually accompanied by a headache. It also doesn't last for this long.

Then I figured it was my, for lack of a better word, punishment for getting caught in the rain with Mulder. Catching a chill can incubate a virus, making the flu or cold the most likely candidates.

I have thrown up every now and then and have sported a slight fever. I have hid it as well as I know how from Mulder, however. When symptoms like this occur, especially around this time of month, his eyes tend to light up and he rushes to the nearest convenient store.

I want to test myself alone this time. I hate the mixed emotions I always see in Mulder's eyes after the test comes out negative. He never seems to know how he should react.

I am always faced with the same dilemma.

Mulder is out today, with Chris of all people. I think Mulder senses an alliance forming with Chris finally, so they went out to the beach to play frisbee and catch.

Janet and I don't spend much time together. I'm scared to spend too much time alone with her. I'm a terrible liar, so she may get things out of me that shouldn't be known. I think she prefers to busy herself with her home and projects anyway, that is when she not traveling anyway.

I've mulled over the consequences of the information we gave out at dinner earlier this week, all week. I feel as though not too much was said, so I am trying not to be worried about. If the walls happen to have ears, they will just know that Kate and Nick fell in love while fighting crime and that their family histories hold mysteries of their own.

I'm just pulling a Mulder and being paranoid.

Staring into the bathroom mirror, I unwrap the small package I just purchased.

Now we can find out the truth behind my uncooperative body.

Chapter Six - Maybe

After a much longer than planned day at the beach with Chris, I return home to find Scully cleaning.

She has her hair swept back from her face, blue jeans and a lilac halter top on. In my world this makes her the most delectable 'housewife' on the planet.

I sneak up behind her as she scrubs at the kitchen counter, only to be disappointed with no response from her. Not thinking anything of it, I kiss her cheek and head for the refrigerator for some orange juice.

"You stay in all day?" I query as I retrieve a glass from the cabinet.

She nods and I think I hear her say yes. Concern begins to rise up and I immediately search the counter for today's mail. I casually finger through it, only to find it consists of commercial advertisements.

I pour the orange juice in time to see Scully walk out of the kitchen to the living room. She begins to dust in a haphazard manner at what little furniture we own. I drink my juice in one gulp, then rinse out the glass before following her into the living room.

"Everything okay, Dana?" I ask, hoping the use of her first name will get her attention. It usually does.

I just get another nod. I approach her frenzied form and halt her cleaning by brushing a finger down her cheek. No reaction.

"You sure?" I prod.

"I'm fine!" She barks, two words I haven't heard used in the same sentence from her since we got here.

At least she finally said something, although the tone worries me and I am a bit offended, especially at the lie. I trace back to the events of the day, trying to see if I did something to cause this sudden bout of anger. Nothing.

"Did I do something?" I finally just ask.

"No, Mulder. Everything's okay. I'm okay. Janet and Chris are okay. We're all okay!" She begins to move in the direction of the bedroom.

"Well if everything is okay, then what the hell is wrong?" I don't move towards her; she has stopped her retreat.

She throws the cloth she has been cleaning with to the floor and spins around to face me.

"Damn it, Mulder, I'm pregnant!" She throws both hands over her mouth, obviously surprised at her outburst.

I feel my mouth drop and can't seem to find my voice. It is at this moment that I discover my true feelings about such news.

I'm ecstatic. Elated. Very happy indeed.

"You're . . .," I can't seem to finish. The fear creeps in a little. The good kind. The kind that a father-to-be usually gets.

She drops her hands and the smallest of smiles has graced her lips. A nod answers my unfinished question. Seconds pass and her smile spreads to a full-fledged grin, a single tear settling in one corner of her mouth.

I take that moment to glide to her and sweep her into my arms. She buries her face into my neck and I feel her begin to shake. I can't be quite sure if it is from laughter or if she is crying. She pulls away and I find it to be both.

So I kiss her. I kiss her long and hard, the way a mother-to-be should be kissed.

"You're sure?" I ask quietly when we pull away.

"Positive," she whispers.

"Are you scared?" I cup her face with my hands.

Her answer is a nod and smile then, "But it is going to happen whether we like it or not."

I kiss her again.

"Should we tell Chris and Janet?" She asks between pecks.

"Hell yes! It will give them something to talk about. At least we won't have to lie about this aspect of our lives."

She laughs at that, outright giggles actually. It is a beautiful sound. I can already see the glow that pregnancy gifts expectant mothers.

Unable to help myself, I kiss her again. It isn't quite as long as the first, but it is almost as wonderful. I set her down on the floor and push an escaped strand of blonde from her eyes.

"You want some tea? We can watch the sunset and drink tea." She floats to the kitchen in a giddy whirl.

I grab some blankets, the air having brought on a chill, and head out to the porch. Minutes later she brings out a tray of her favorite beverage now a favorite of mine and sets it down on our small outdoor table.

Before she can protest, I pull her into my lap and wrap the large blanket I have provided around both our bodies. We settle comfortably in each other's arms and watch the warm hues unfold from the sky.

Chapter Seven - Visions of Hope

He's been running a lot lately. It clears his mind and he has had a lot on it the last several days. I think the reality of having another baby has finally set in for us both.

I'll admit I'm afraid. At first I was scared, but not to the point where it kept me up at night. Not like I am now. I can't help but wonder what will happen this time. Will it be healthy? Will it be different, like William was? If it is like William, will we end up having to give it up in the end?

My heart tells me that the baby will be fine. Mulder and I have been on this island for two years, so there is no possibility of interference having happened. But my head keeps trying to convince me that history will repeat itself.

I wish my head would shut up.

These concerns of mine are shared with Mulder, but he has other things that keep him running.

Long ago, in New Mexico, Mulder and I discussed dead people; how they never really die. That they speak to us. I've had my encounters, but Mulder has these dreams now. People from our past will speak to him. Assure him and comfort him about our future, the future. I'm not sure if they know what the future holds, but I feel as though their comforting words do the job. It disturbs him though. Mulder doesn't seem to know what to do. They aren't nightmares, he hasn't had one in several months, but he doesn't understand why they choose to speak to him.

The Lone Gunmen, Krycek and X contact him the most. The thing that bothers him most is he can't talk back. He just sits back and listens, not understanding why it is they feel he needs to see and hear them. He also rarely remembers what it is that they say. He just knows that they were there and that he does in fact feel comforted when he awakens.

It wasn't until a few months after our escape that he told me about his 'visitations' while he fought for his life. All of our lives. Until this I hadn't understood the full meaning of that conversation in the dingy hotel room.

It wasn't until the last few weeks that Mulder started having these frequent visits from our enemies and allies depending on what day it was from the past. They never used to come so often. I think it could be because we are so close to returning back home.

Mulder was never told about the death of the Lone Gunmen. When we were together those brief few times before his death sentence, I was never able to tell him. The loss of William was enough to shatter his world.

We haven't received anymore word on the location of William yet. I'm not sure who Monica and John are having do this for us, but I have a feeling they may have been associated with the Lone Gunmen in some way.

I just hope they can be trusted.

We told Janet and Chris that we were expecting. Chris was happy for us and Janet was beyond happy. I think she expects to be the godmother. She is a pleasant woman, but if anyone will be the godmother it will be Monica. She's the closet thing to a sister I have had in years. Although, I have yet to tell her or John. Mom is the only one who knows, or at least I wrote her a letter telling her so. She has yet to respond. I told her about the news on William not a day after receiving it. A letter in response didn't take long to arrive. She is scared for me, that I may be setting myself up for disappointment or something I am not ready for. She may be right, but it is too late now.

The morning sickness comes and goes, but it isn't so bad now. I didn't have much of it with William, so I don't expect too much to change. Mulder has already begun to fuss over me. I think he half expects me to start showing in the next day or so. He's just trying to make up for when he was gone. I love him for it.

We haven't discussed much on getting married. We don't know if we want to wait until after the baby is born and we have found William, or before. I don't care either way. In the end, we will be married.

Of course, we have to get married as Nick and Kate. The only complication there is that we are already married as Nick and Kate, as far as our certificates and passports are concerned. We just know that we can never be revealed for who we truly are, it's too risky. I guess we'll just worry about it when that time comes.

I hear the front door open and roll over on the bed to face the bedroom door. I've been prescribed a lot of rest by Doctor Mulder. He leans against the doorjamb, clad in his running pants and worn white tee shirt.

"You have a good run?"

He nods, with a smile. His eyes are fixated on me, something I quickly had to get used to once we became involved romantically. It isn't so much that he looks at me, just the way he does. It was odd at first, but now I enjoy the butterflies it never ceases to give me.

I pat the bed, inviting him to sit by me. "How far did you run today?"

"Only three miles," he shrugs as he makes a place beside me.

Only. I haven't run more than two in quite some time. I'm still in shape, for now, but I don't have a job that demands superb physical strength anymore.

He kisses me on the forehead. "You feeling all right?"

"Mmhmm, I feel great." I have a lazy sound to my voice; I absentmindedly rub my stomach, a habit I got into while pregnant with William. I guess every pregnant woman gets in that habit.

He sweeps a lock of hair behind my ear, his eyes moving to my stomach for a second then coming back to meet my eyes. My roots have begun to show, but my natural hair color isn't to worry about it being a dark auburn, almost mousy brown. I guess I should dye it again anyway. I have my hair done every few months, the shades of blonde ever changing.

"I'm going to take a quick shower. How 'bout we go out for dinner tonight? We haven't done that in a while."

"Sounds good to me," I smile. He gives me a peck on the lips before heading towards the bathroom. I take my time getting up, stretching my tired muscles.

I get up and begin to comb through my hair and go through the motions of getting ready. It is then that I remember the dress.

I pull it from the closet and stroke the fabric. I'm going to wear this while I still can.

Chapter Eight - "Look ye, Starbuck, all visible objects are but

as pasteboard masks."

When all else fails and we can't decide where to eat, we go to a restaurant not two miles from our beach house. It's called Crusoe's Beachfront and they offer a casual yet elegant atmosphere where the menu is full of choices that are anything but ordinary. Just the way I like it.

We are seated immediately and it isn't long before our order is taken and we are relaxing with our lemon water and the soft tropic music in the background. Scully looks radiant in the dress I got her. Who knew I had such good taste in clothes? I guess my selection in ties always had me thinking otherwise. Or maybe Scully inspires me to do better, in fact, I know she does.

I reach across the table and grab her hand, sandwiching it between both of my much larger ones. I brush my thumb over the soft skin that I don't think I'll ever get sick of touching. She looks at me and smiles, sensing that I want to say something.

"What?" She finally asks.

I play with her fingers, thinking. Scully extends her neck towards me, arching her eyebrow, her eyes urging me to spit it out. This shouldn't be so hard for me to tell her, but it's all about how I tell her. I'm also hesitant because she could get angry at me for waiting this long to share this secret I have been carrying with me. I smile at her, a lop-sided smile to keep things light and clear my throat.

"I need to tell you something. Something about the dreams I have been having."

She remains silent, but her features have softened and she simply waits. Her hand curves around mine a little, encouraging me. She knows how disturbing the subject of my 'dreams' can be to talk about.

"They've been going on longer than I told you. Or least something similar happened to me a while back."

"What do you mean?"

"Well it just started to make sense to me recently."

"What did?"

"What I'm about to tell you."

She smiles, a bit amused. "You're stalling."

I chuckle softly and press on. "I think it started about six years ago, to be honest, around the time of your cancer." Her eyebrows raise and she wants to comment, but she restrains herself, letting me finish. "It was always just one recurring visit after the other, I didn't think too much of it. I should have though, because of who it was."

"Mul-Nick . . ." she catches herself.

"It was your father." I say it with a tenderness I know she will appreciate. I never knew her father, well not when he was alive. When she got sick, he started talking to me. His words still play over and over in my mind.

Take care of my little girl.

I know you love her, she loves you too.

I've always been proud of her.

You'll make it through all of this, together.

The latter, I sometimes think, he was referring to our current battles. I think he knew we would be each other's anchors for the rest of our lives and face what we have faced. What we will face.

"My fath. . . why didn't you tell me before now?" Strangely enough, she doesn't sound angry. She doesn't even sound hurt. Just confused.

I shrug, holding on to her hand with all my might in fear that she will tear it away from me. She does no such thing. In fact, she brings her other hand to the table and envelopes both of my tan, callused hands with her forever and always ivory, silk ones. I'm going to answer of course, but I am not so sure I have a good reason.

"I don't know. I think I just brushed it aside and I don't even know why. At one point I planned on telling you, but by then he had stopped coming to me."

"Oh."

She sounds so disappointed. Like maybe she'd hoped he still came to me. I kind of wish he did too.

"Why did he come to you?" She goes on to ask.

I shrug again. Maybe this sort of conversation should have waited until we were in private. Sometimes I just don't think.

"I don't know." That seems to be my answer to every question. "I'll tell you this much, he was the first one to let me know I loved you." A small smile appears on her face and I release a sigh.

I go on to tell her some of the things he'd said to me all those years ago. A few tears have escaped her pools of blue, something I expected to happen. When I confirmed his pride for his beloved daughter, she almost lost it. She held it in though, unwilling to make any more of a scene than we already have. We would still be holding hands if the food hadn't arrived. We aren't that hungry anymore. Luckily Scully just ordered a salad. It is unlike any salad I have ever seen, a mixture of vegetables and fruits and I think what could be chicken, but it is the perfect amount to suit her appetite. Unfortunately I overestimated my stomach and the meal, whose name I can't remember, hardly gets a bite out of me. I nibble on some bread and the side dishes instead.

"It kind of makes sense," she mumbles over a mouth full of lettuce. She seems to be enjoying this unusual excuse for a salad.

"It does?" I've settled comfortably in my chair, waiting for the table to be cleared so I can claim her hands with mine again.

"We were in love even then, maybe he was giving his blessing."

That idea makes me smile. Scully pushes her plate to the side and opens her hands to me. We clasp our hands together again and I notice a thoughtful expression cross her face.

"He did come to me once." She shuts her eyes as if trying to remember what it was like to see him.

"Really?"

"Mmhmm." It's a quiet response, her eyes still closed. I want to ask her when it was that he visited her, but I don't want to shake her from her reverie. Her memory.

"It was when I was in my coma," she affirms as if hearing the question in my head. Her eyes pop open, unleashing a few more tears. On this island people keep to themselves, so no one has glanced over to see what this dramatic scene is all about. If anyone has, I'm sure they just think I have said something romantic and the wistful smile accompanied with tears on Scully's face have been brought on by the fictional words.

"I was so close to letting go Mulder." She says it quietly, her eyes sweeping the area to make sure my name was only heard by my ears. It is strange that she can speak so softly to the point of barely being audible by any other and yet I can always hear her so clearly.

"I can almost remember what he said to me," she continues. "But what I remember most is how much he loved me. That all he'd wanted in those last moments of his life was to see me again. He'd lived life so fully and yet he felt it had ended too soon."

She shakes her head. "You'd think after that I would have never hesitated to let you know how I felt when I knew it was real. I guess I was like you in that I didn't think much of me seeing him, until it really meant something. All visible objects are but as pasteboard masks."

I recognize that from somewhere. Instead of asking, I look at her inquisitively in hopes that she will enlighten me on what she means.

"Moby Dick. It kind of means . . ." she hesitates, gathering her thoughts. "Captain Ahab never would have thought twice about that white whale if it hadn't taken his leg. Up until then the whale was one dimensional, like a pasteboard mask, not worth considering, it's meaning hidden. But once the whale was given a meaning, a purpose to be seen as something more, it was given all dimensions. I guess my point is, that in our case, you don't really think much of a vision or a ghost or whatever you conceive it to be until its intentions are made clear." She chuckles in what I sense is a way of laughing at herself. "I'm sorry; this probably doesn't make any sense. It's just when I think of Dad, I think of that book. It was all I really had of him; the memory of him sharing that story with me."

"It makes sense." I don't feel the need to elaborate. She is staring at the white tablecloth, lost in her thoughts again. I shake her hands to bring her back to me. "You mad at me?"

She's taken aback by my question. Probably because I sound about five. I see that eyebrow arch. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"Because I waited so long to tell you this. Six years is a long time to keep something like that under wraps."

"We kept a much larger secret from each other for almost eight years," she bites her lower lip then smiles. I can always sense when she has had to stop herself from saying 'Mulder' when we are talking in public. This really should have been a private conversation, that way we could say as many Scullys and Mulders as we wanted. Old habits die hard.

"But," she continues, "you had your reasons . . . kind of. Ahab likes you Nick, if you had known the victory in that feat, you would have been dancing a jig long ago. He's never liked any of the men in my life." Her cheeks are tear stained, but new wet ones have yet to join the dried streaks. She beams at me.

He likes me, he really likes me.

The waiter finally shows up and clears our table. I get the feeling he had been avoiding the task until it was obvious whatever had been going on between his two customers was resolved.

"Could we have the check?" I request before the dark man takes our dishes to the kitchen. He nods and vanishes behind the flapping doors.

I bring Scully's hands to my mouth and brush my lips over her knuckles.

"I love you," I tell her in a whispered tone after my lips have finished their journey.

"I love you, too."

Chapter Nine - "A dream is an answer to a question . . ."

I had a dream last night.

I was back on the mainland, there was snow. I hadn't seen snow in so long and in the dream I could almost feel the wet, feathery whiteness on my cheeks.

I walked down an endless sidewalk, unsure of where exactly it was leading but intent on making it to the mysterious destination. When I did finally come to a stop, in front of a frozen lake, a bright light began to shine from beyond. It wasn't the sun, just a light from unknown origin. Moments later, after removing the arm I had made into a makeshift shield against the brightness from my eyes, a figure came up to stand in front of me.

My father.

It made sense in a way, to see him in a dream, because it had only been a few days since Mulder and I had discussed Ahab.

He was clad in his uniform, a gentle smile playing at his lips. He brought a hand to cup my cheek and wiped a tear away that I was unaware had fallen.

"Daddy?" The word escaped my lips in a shaky whisper. In response he nodded and without hesitation pulled me into his arms. It had been eleven years since I had hugged him.

I felt reassurance in this embrace. It gave off the heat of love, support . . . pride. Even at age forty I was so small in his arms, as if I was still just his little girl. But I was. I always would be and I think that was part of the reassurance I felt. I had grown into a woman, a lover, a mother, this he knew, but he would always be there for me. He was my father.

He was proud of me.

He never said a word the entire time he held me. He didn't need to. It could have been hours that we stayed like that, but in a dream one can never truly measure the time.

Was it a dream?

Or was it his final visit to me before he let me live the rest of my life until I saw him again in Eternity? When he pulled away he placed a kiss on my forehead, the finality of this dream making itself known.

This was goodbye.

No more visits to either Mulder or me. I think I'd had this feeling of unrest since that evening in the restaurant and this was Dad's way of letting me know that everything was as it should be. That his last visit was for me and me alone.

He walked away from me and when he reached the edge of the lake he turned to me. I smiled and he offered a salute and I did the same. It was then that I woke up.

I laid awake for the remainder of that night, waiting for Mulder to wake up so I could tell him. I didn't analyze the dream, knowing there was nothing left to analyze, I just let it play over and over in my head.

When Mulder finally did wake, the first words out of my mouth were, "I saw my father." From there I told him every detail and feeling of the dream.

When I was finished, a single tear streamed down my cheek. He pulled me to him and held me tight for almost an hour. I think in a way he was relieved that he was not alone in seeing these people of our past. He was also relieved that my father chose to see me one last time.

After that he went for a run and I went to put together a brunch for the both of us.

I startle at the knock on the front door, pulling me from my thoughts. I turn the stove off and pad across the tile, through the living room and to the front door. I open it to find Janet smiling with our mail in hand.

"Good morning, Janet."

"Good morning, Kate. You look radiant today. Where is Nick?"

She always comments on a glow or how radiant I look. I never see it. I'm not showing yet, it will be a while, so I think Janet feels that since she can't observe a swell of my belly, a glow will have to due.

"Off running again." I take the mail from her hand and offer an ushering hand to welcome her inside. She makes herself comfortable on a bar stool and I continue to make a snack for Mulder.

"Do you want something to drink?" I offer.

"No, I'm fine. I just haven't seen you in a couple of days, just thought I'd check up on you." We exchange smiles.

"Oh Nick and I have been keeping to ourselves lately. We've had some things come up." I pause and wipe my hands on a dish towel. "We may be leaving sometime in the next few weeks."

Janet's eyes widen at the news and a 'why?' can be seen in that expression.

"We have some family, um, business to tend to in the States."

"Did someone die?"

For some reason I laugh at the question, especially with it being so blunt. "No no, it's just some personal things that need to be taken care of. We don't know anything yet, but we suspect it will only be a matter of days before we hear something."

"I see." Janet looks down and picks at her cuticles. I sense sadness in her statement and it surprises me. I never saw Janet and I as being that close, but it is possible she thought otherwise.

"Will you be coming back?" She looks up with a doleful smile accompanying the question.

"I don't know, Janet." I shrug for some emphasis. "It depends on what all happens. I wish I could tell you more, but I'm not sure Nick would want anyone to know much more than I have already told you. As soon as we know our plans you'll be the first to know."

"I understand, Kate, I really do. Thank you for telling me."

I reach across the counter and place my hand on her restless ones. "Thank you for everything you have done, Janet. You and Chris have done so much for us these past couple of years."

She smiles at that and tilts her head to the side. "That's what friends are for."

Is it possible for me to become such close friends with a person in a matter of minutes? Up until now I had never thought of Janet as more than a friendly, albeit nosy, neighbor and landlord.

"Well," she finally says, "I'll leave you to make brunch. I'll see you later." She stands to leave and I walk her to the door. Hesitating only a moment, she hugs me and leaves.

Shutting the door, I shake my head with a smile and head towards the kitchen again. As I pick through the mail, Mulder jogs in.

"Was that Janet who just left?" He shuts the door behind him and removes his shirt.

"Yeah," I respond distantly, my eyes having settled on an envelope with familiar handwriting.

"I just heard some interesting news down at the pier." He walks briskly to me and kisses my cheek before he makes to pour himself some orange juice. Without a word from me he continues with his news.

I make an effort to listen, that is until I read the recognizable script of the envelope. It is a letter from Monica and John. I take a deep breath and tear the envelope open. In the background I hear Mulder saying something about hurricane season, but as I read the letter every word he says is muted.

"Anyway, they say it is going to be a doozy. Maybe we should pack up and get out of here."

A gasp escapes my lips and he stops, rushing to my side.

"What is it?" I feel his hand stroking my back.

"It doesn't matter," I state simply.

"What doesn't matter?" He is clearly confused. I turn to him fully, my eyes opening and closing in slow motion as I collect myself.

"The hurricanes, Mulder." I barely recognize my voice as I speak to him.

"You've lost me Scully." I small smile is pulling at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes convey his concern.

"They found him, Mulder. They found William."

Chapter Ten - A Reunion of Friends . . . and Nightmares

Leaving the island was hard. It was hardest on Scully, but I was astonished to discover that it was hard on me as well. I'd wanted to leave the place for quite some time, for several reasons, but once it happened I wasn't ready.

I loved feeling safe. I never realized what a haven our temporary home offered until now. I loved the fact that I could be with Scully, love her, and not really have to watch both our backs in fear that it could all end in the blink of an eye.

However, no matter what the sacrifice, seeing William and knowing he is safe is worth it.

For a while, when we were running from state to state, we came close to being caught, found out. Sometime, around Texas, it all stopped. But instead of feeling safe at the sudden lack of threat, we panicked, our warning bells sounding off, and immediately made a home on the island.

A little over two years later and nothing.

Scully keeps saying we'll be okay, that they must have either given up or just don't care anymore. I think she says it more for herself than for me. These days I am much more paranoid about being found, because our lives aren't the only ones at stake anymore. Our baby has come into the picture.

At the thought of her and our unborn child, I look down at the head resting soundly on my shoulder. She cut her hair before we left, it now sitting just above her shoulders. Actually Janet cut it. They even briefly discussed dyeing it. I smiled when Janet suggested auburn and Scully quickly dismissed it by stating that she hated red hair. Therefore, we all left it the dark blonde that it is.

We waited a few weeks before leaving. First we sent a response to John and Monica's letter, asking what preparations and precautions should be taken. It was only a matter of days before a letter in reply arrived. As far as they were concerned, according to updates from Skinner, coming back into the States would be a piece of cake and safe. And so we prepared to leave.

There were some tears before we left, mostly from Janet. She is more of a crier than Scully. As a gift, Janet gave Scully a necklace that she knew Scully had always admired. She also gave us a baby blanket that, much to my surprise, she'd made herself. Chris and I shook hands and I gave him rent for our last month, despite the fact that we would not be there to complete it. He almost refused, but I was too grateful for their hospitality to yield.

The packing had been easy. Aside from our clothes and only a few personal items, there wasn't much to take with us. It took all of three medium suitcases for everything we owned.

We hit some turbulence, which causes Scully's head to pop up from my shoulder, interrupting her peaceful slumber. I squeeze her hand and whisper some soothing words.

"We should be landing in the next thirty minutes or so," I assure, my thumb sweeping over her soft skin.

"Are you nervous?" She whispers, settling back to my shoulder, her hand returning the squeeze.

I shrug and kiss the crown of her head, knowing what she is talking about. "A little, but I think we'll be all right, you know? If they were really set on getting us, they would have by now." I pause and look out the window, several fluffy clouds gracing the sky. "Yeah, we'll be fine." I say it out loud as if I am still talking to her, but the words are more of a reassurance to myself.

I feel her move up, her lips brushing the skin just below my ear. I can't tell if it was a kiss or not, but the reaction is all the same for me. Her mouth hovers over my ear a few seconds before she speaks.

"What about William? Are you nervous about that?"

I simply nod. I have never been so nervous about something in my life. I have been scared of many things, but never this nervous. Not even the first time Scully and I made love. It had been too natural, despite how imperfect the first time inevitably was. Even the idea of being a father, again, makes me nervous, but it's a good nervous. A feeling I welcome. This is different and the feeling is unsettling.

"Me too," she says, kissing my cheek.

I turn to her, our eyes meeting. She has an uncertain smile on her face, a forced one. I bring my free hand up to cup her chin and she relaxes into it. Her smile begins to tremble and she sucks in a quick breath, exhaling slowly.

"Let me out, I don't feel too well."

I drop my hand from her face and nod, releasing the grip on her hand as well. I don't know if it is nerves, the flight or the baby, but she does look a little pale. I bring my legs in as close as I can and she unbuckles for the first time on the flight, stands and squeezes out.

I watch her as she walks slowly to the bathroom, her hand gripping the back of each seat as she stumbles down the aisle. My eyes don't leave her until she is inside the stall. With nowhere else to look, I aim my attention to the clouds again.

It isn't until I feel her hand on top of my head, her fingers playing through my hair, that I take my eyes from the window. I look up to see that she has been crying. She has a smile on her face, but I know better. Her color is back in her cheeks again, so I know she really must have not been feeling well.

"You okay?" I ask her, even though her face gives away the answer to my question. She's better, but not quite okay.

"Mmm," is her only response. I translate it as a yes and she moves to sit back in her seat. Aside from the outburst last month the days of her saying 'I'm fine' as a cover are done with; she never was and I never believed it.

As soon as she is seated, I grab her hand and kiss her palm before entwining our fingers and resting our hands on my thigh. I hear her breathe in deeply and out slowly. A few seconds later her head is back on my shoulder, but her eyes are looking out the window as if she hopes the clouds will unveil any answers to the questions I know we both ponder. I follow her gaze and we stare out the window for the remainder of the flight, not a word spoken.

Once we've landed we wait for everyone else to exit before doing so ourselves. The pilot and flight attendants wish a pleasant stay and we walk down the, what seems to be, never-ending tunnel.

Having already been through the pain of customs when we switched flights, we head straight to baggage claim. Monica said she would pick us up there. I feel like we're taking a lot of risks, the plane and meeting in public with Monica, but they assured us that it was safe. I want to believe them. I do my best to do just that.

I have Scully's hand wrapped tightly in mine as we move to baggage claim, fighting through the clump of people in the terminal. Every once and a while I skim the crowd for anyone who looks suspicious. No one catches my eye and before I know it we have reached the rotating belt, suitcases, backpacks, boxes and tents already being spit out from beyond the flaps.

Once I spot one suitcase, soon followed by the other two, I pull Scully to them. I insist she take the lighter one. She almost fights me for even suggesting it, but I don't think she is up to arguing. I know she's strong, in more ways than physical, she knows I know she is strong. She has nothing to prove to me, but right now I am taking into consideration that her nerves are on edge. I don't want anything strenuous, not even the carrying of a suitcase, to tip the iceberg.

I pick up the last bag and stand beside Scully. We wait.

"Is that her?" Scully whispers to me, nudging my arm with her elbow to make sure she has my attention. I look down at her and she nods her chin toward one of the signs that points to the elevator. The woman Scully is indicating is leaning against a pillar, looking through the throng of people gathered around the conveyer belt.

"Yeah, I think it is. She looks different." Her hair is longer now and I can see some worry lines have been engraved on her face. She's also lost a little weight.

Monica continues to look for us and I almost make a move to get her attention when her eyes settle on us. Then she looks away. I see her make a double take and we finally make eye contact. Her eyes widen a bit and she begins to walk swiftly in our direction.

"I imagine we do too," I hear Scully say, a smile in the comment.

"Oh my God, look at you two," is Monica's greeting, her grin going from ear to ear. "I almost didn't recognize you!"

Scully steps forward, having set her suitcase on the ground, and the two women embrace.

"You're blonde now," Monica observes, her arms still wrapped around Scully. She pulls away first and sweeps her eyes over Scully. "You look amazing. I guess this 'break' was good for you."

"Yeah, I thought I told you? About the hair I mean."

"No, you didn't. It looks good!"

I chuckle at their conversation. I get this strange feeling like this is what a Tupperware party must be like. I clear my throat, interrupting their discussion. At the sound, Monica looks up at me.

"Hey stranger," she greets. I set one bag down and we hug briefly.

"Hey Monica."

We all regard each other for another moment.

"Well, we better get going," Monica breaks in. "I know you're anxious and, well, I'm double parked," she grins mischievously at that.

Outside we toss our bags in the trunk, Scully sits in the front and I take the back. The drive is quiet, making it feel longer than I think it actually is. The radio plays softly in the background. After a while Scully dozes off. She didn't sleep too well the night before, so I think she is trying to catch up on what she can.

I watch the scenery, while Monica focuses on making it up the mountain. The view is beautiful at twilight, but I begin to feel queasy after a while. I get sea sick easily, therefore being in the backseat of a vehicle isn't much different for me. Especially at this altitude.

It is much cooler up here and Scully and I only own a few cold weather items. Scully opted for a blue, long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans, insisting that she would be fine. From the corner of my eye I see her shivering, even with the heater on. I remove my sweater, a black shirt underneath, and lay it across Scully's shoulders. Monica smiles at the gesture.

"She refuses to accept that she gets cold easily," I state simply, settling back in the seat.

"This is a big change in climate for you two. We'll have to get you some more suitable clothing; it can get rather chilly up here. Especially at night. It's lovely though, the stars shine so bright here."

We're in western Montana. We landed in Helena, but so far it has been an hour drive from the airport. They never told us where they were staying, our mail always having been sent to and from a nearby town, Elliston. I imagine we are not far from there. From that I draw the conclusion that they are even more secluded than we were.

As we round the mountaintop, I see smoke rising from some trees, a chimney revealing itself, a log cabin. A pick-up truck sits in the driveway and a porch light beams from over the front door.

"We're here. That was a shorter drive than I anticipated, given the traffic at first I mean." Monica unbuckles her seatbelt and pops the trunk, exiting the car.

Scully hasn't stirred and I comfort myself in the fact that she is resting soundly. I chide myself for having to be the one to wake her. I lean over to her again, stroking my hand through her tousled hair.

"Hey," I whisper in her ear, "we're here." I kiss her cheek, lingering and she finally rouses.

She hums drowsily.

"We're here," I repeat quietly.

"Already?" Her eyes flutter open.

I nod and ruffle her hair. "Let's get our stuff."

We exit the sedan and walk to the back of the car, Monica having already pulled out our carryalls. I reach for the two I carried previously, but am halted.

"Uh uh, let me get these. You two head inside."

"Where are John and Gibson?" I ask.

"They went into town to get some things. They wanted to make you dinner, but I have a feeling they picked up some take out instead."

"Ah, I see."

Scully hasn't said a thing, so I look to the side of me. I find that she has moved to the outskirts of the small forest of trees surrounding us. She has slipped on my sweater and her arms are wrapped around her mid-section, her head tilted to the heavens deep in thought.

"Hey, uh, if you're set on carrying those in, I think I'll stay out here a bit longer with Scully. That all right?"

"Mmhmm. The boys should be back any minute," she reminds me smiling softly, before taking a bag at a time to the porch. I want to help her, but I am drawn to Scully.

I walk the short distance between us and wrap my arms around her, my arms overlapping hers. She doesn't budge, her eyes still gazing as she contemplates the stars.

"Are you going to be okay?"

She nods. Moments later she replies, in a quiet voice, "Yeah, I . . . I was just thinking. That's all."

I stop myself from prying, leaving her answer at that. She doesn't have to tell me everything and she knows that. There is no point anyway, I know what is wrong with her. I brush my cheek against hers, my stubble catching in her hair at the movement. A shiver runs through her body and I hug her to me.

"Why don't we get inside, huh? I bet we could scrounge up some tea or hot chocolate to warm you up."

For the first time in the time she has been standing here, she looks away from the sky and her eyes cast down to the ground. I think I hear her say 'okay', but I am not sure. I assume she wants to go in, but before we head to the door, I turn her around to face me.

"Don't worry yourself, okay? I don't like seeing you like this. It's all going to turn out fine, I just know it is." I'm not sure how convincing my last statement is, but I keep talking anyway. "And we don't want to upset the baby," I rub her tummy for effect and am rewarded with a small smile. I tuck some hair away from her eyes and kiss her forehead.

At that moment some headlights curve around the corner and Scully and I pull away, focusing our attention to the approaching vehicle. The driver parks, turns off the car, Gibson and John Doggett stepping out of the car.

"Mulder!" I hear John shout, the 'ah' that replaces the 'er' in my name unavoidable with his accent. Despite how much I hated it in the past, I can't help but embrace the way the man says my name. It's familiar and not entirely unwelcome.

"Hi ya Doggett, how ya been man?" He reaches me and sticks out his hand, the handshake firm. I shake my head at the gesture and pull him to me in a 'manly' hug. As he pulls away, his eyes shift to Scully.

She smiles and they hug shortly, but fondly. I'm man enough to admit that I can't help but feel a twinge of jealously. Well, I'll never admit it out loud. I know it's childish and that Scully and I love one another and that, from what I understand anyway, John and Monica have their own romance going on, but what can I say? I'm territorial.

Seconds later Gibson approaches the group, his stature the same as when we left him. He smiles widely, the focus mostly at Scully. She kneels down and brings her to him in a giant hug.

"Hi Gibson," I hear her say.

"Hi Scully." He pulls away and turns to me. "Hi Mulder." I shake his outstretched hand.

He smiles at me, knowingly. I'm not sure what he knows, but I shake my head with a grin at his ability. It will never cease to amaze me.

"Come on, let's get you two inside. We brought Chinese," John announces, proudly.

We haven't had Chinese in what seems like forever. One can't get a lot of Asian cuisine back on the island. I'm starving, but I am not sure how much I will be able to eat, my mind still heavy. I have a feeling Scully will hardly touch a thing, shifting the rice or noodles (whatever they brought) around with her fork until everyone is finished and moving on.

More than likely the next step in seeing William will be discussed at dinner, therefore that will keep Scully from eating as much as we both know she should.

We take one another's hands and follow Gibson inside, John grabbing the food from the car. The room is dim, but breathtaking, even in its simplicity. I large deer head is mounted above the cobblestone fireplace and the room smells pleasantly like wood smoke. The couch looks welcoming, so I pull Scully with me to sit down.

"How did you get a place like this?" I inquire, my eyes wandering the room. Scully is sweeping the area with her eyes as well, her mind someplace else.

Monica enters the room from, what appears to be, the kitchen. "I know a guy who knows a guy who owed him a favor. And that guy owed me one." She puts the plates she's holding down on the coffee table, along with napkins and walks back to the kitchen, I assume to get silverware and drinks.

Quite the favor, I think to myself.

I look to Gibson and notice him staring intently at Scully, a worried expression on his face. He won't comment on anything he learns from her thoughts, but it doesn't stop him from worrying about her.

He knows how to control his gift and is mature enough to know when it is appropriate to use it and when it is not. However, sometimes the passionate pull of a person's emotions is hard for anyone to ignore. Scully has always been somewhat of a mother figure in Gibson's eyes, so the need to understand her current state is understandable.

John sits down opposite Scully and I and it isn't long before Monica joins us, setting drinks before us. Gibson pulls out of his concentration and helps open the Styrofoam take-out boxes.

"Fill your plates and then we'll get to talking," John says.

Chicken fried rice, pan fried noodles and mixed chow mein are the options. Scully scoops some chicken fried rice onto her plate, a minimal amount. I take a little of everything and settle comfortably into the couch.

After everyone has prepared their plates, Monica speaks up.

"I know you're curious, more than curious, about William by now so I'll just come right out and say that William is in Wyoming. A small farming town just outside Rock Springs in Sweetwater county. I still can't believe he was so close all this time," she shakes her head, as if disgusted with herself.

I'm in shock. I don't know what Scully is. There's no sign of reaction on her face, but I conclude to myself that she is in shock as well. Shaking herself from the well hidden emotions, she lifts the fork to her mouth, making an effort to eat her rice. I urge Monica to continue with my eyes.

"His foster parents are a Mr. and Mrs. Van de Kamp. A conservative, Christian family. Large farmhouse with some chickens and cows. Mr. Van de Kamp, David, is a carpenter and his wife, Hannah, stays at home. I don't think knowing their personal lives is something to get into, although we have enough information to do so. However, I want to assure both of you that, from the looks of it, William is in a wonderful home." She offers a smile, an endeavor to lighten the mood that has set in.

"There is one problem," John breaks in, his expression revealing that he hates to be the bearer of bad news. "An early winter has settled in their area. Being that we think it best that you drive down, it will be impossible to reach them for at least a few more weeks. I hate to tell you that, because I know you have waited so patiently already."

"It's all right," Scully speaks up, at last. By speak up I mean she talks, her tone is hardly a whisper.

"Yeah," I interject, "we've waited this long."

I feel Scully nod in agreement. Silence takes over, the wood crackling in the fireplace, and we all pick and eat at our food. Scully sets her half-empty plate on the table.

"We want to talk to you both about something else," John declares, steering from the already hard topic and taking a sip of what turned out to be fresh mountain water. "It's something we and Skinner have been discussing for quite some time, actually."

He stands up, as if in preparation to give a big speech. I watch him solemnly, my arm around Scully's shoulders.

"We want to go at this Colonization thing as if it were a nuclear war," he starts out, his forehead crinkled in concentration, his voice somewhat urgent. "Canned food, underground shelter, the works. We actually already have the location. It's an actual bomb shelter from the fifties, about two hours east of Helena. It isn't huge, maybe the same size as this living room, but a comfortable size for up to twelve people. It's only a starting point as far as putting up a fight, but we can move forward from there. I think we can make it work. In fact, I know we can make it work."

It's not a crazy idea. But will it actually work? We don't know what will happen with this Colonization, how dangerous it could turn out to be. We're in the dark as far as how much force the aliens could come at us with. However, it is something. A way to fight back. Maybe it's not actually fighting, more like hiding, but survival is a good place to start.

I don't comment, turning my attention to Scully. "What do you think?"

"I don't know, Mulder."

"Well hey, why don't you two talk about it. We'll show you to your room, let you settle in and discuss it. We've hit you with a lot of stuff tonight and we have a while before anything needs to be set in stone."

Monica, John and, after a moment, Gibson clean up the mess and go to the kitchen. Monica comes back into the living room, with some hot tea for Scully, while Gibson and John head down the hallway, saying goodnight to us both.

"Follow me and we'll get you in your room," she smiles, coaxing us up from our seats.

We head down a separate hallway than the guys did. Reaching the end of the short hall we are shown into a pretty large bedroom. Almost the size of the one back on the island. The furnishing is sparse and few, a bed, a small dresser and a night stand, but we aren't picky. A quilt covers the queen bed and two simple white pillows rest on top.

"It's not the Ritz, but it's homey."

"It's great, Monica, thank you," Scully says kindly, setting her mug on the dresser.

"The bathroom is across the hall, towels and everything under the sink. Um, you know where the kitchen is and John, Gibson and I are on the opposite side of the cabin. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask, all right?"

We nod simultaneously in response.

"I put your bags in the corner. I'll leave you two to get some rest." She crosses to us and gives us each a hug. "I'm so happy you're here. Everything is going to turn out great, you'll see." She turns on her heels at that and exits, shutting the door behind her.

"Do you want to shower first or second, Scully? Or you know . . ." I smile suggestively at her, waggling my eyebrows and although I think my attempt at levity will fail, she smiles at me. It is weak, but a smile nonetheless.

"Actually, I'm exhausted Mulder. I think I'll just wash my face, brush my teeth and get into bed. I showered before we flew out, so I think I'll last till tomorrow."

"Do you want to talk?"

"Yes, of course. We can talk in bed, all right?"

I can hear the exhaustion in her voice, but I sense it is more emotional than physical. I nod and I think my concern shows. She sees it, I see it in her eyes, and walks to me. I hadn't even realized we had distanced ourselves until now.

She brushes her lips against mine, lingering for a few seconds. "Don't worry about me. It's just hormones making me emotional and sensitive," she whispers to me in the almost dark room.

I wrap my arms around her body. I won't accept that the baby is making her act like this. This entire ordeal is slowly tearing her apart. There is no sense in arguing, however.

"I'll try and stop," I bargain.

"That's good enough," she smiles, kissing me again before padding to her bag. She pulls out some pajamas, a pair of off-white silk ones and her toiletry bag. She leaves the room and I strip down to my boxers, tossing my clothes onto my bag.

Fifteen minutes later, after we have both prepared for bed, we climb under the surprisingly warm covers.

"I think there's an electric blanket," she comments.

I curve my body around hers anyway and she snuggles into my embrace.

"So what do you think?" I ask after a beat of silence.

In our minds we have silently agreed to not speak of William anymore until tomorrow. The news is too fresh and so is the idea that it will be a matter of weeks before we see him.

"I thought a little about it while I was getting ready for bed and I think . . . I think this may be the best thing for us to do."

"Really?"

"Yes. If we have even the semblance of a plan on how to survive this thing, I think it will be easier for us to live our lives as normally as possible until that day comes. I want to give this baby a chance to just live. It will be seven by that time. I just . . . I want to not have to worry about this more than we already are. Even just the idea of that shelter's safety is enough for me. So yes, I think it is a good idea to do this."

"Me too," I agree.

A wave of silence settles over the room and I almost think that Scully's asleep. However, a question begins to gnaw at me.

"What about your mom? Your brothers and their families?"

I feel Scully's feet rub together under mine and she shifts her body ever so slightly, signifying that she is still awake.

"Mom thinks that even if 2012 is the end of the world, she should face her judgment."

"What do you mean?"

"She doesn't look at this as a Colonization, Mulder. To her, if anything, it is the Apocalypse and her strong faith won't allow her to think otherwise. Who's to say we aren't both right though, you know? I'm living in two worlds as far as my beliefs are concerned." She pauses before continuing.

"Anyway, it's up to her whether Charlie and Bill know anything about this, so it's just us for now." She shrugs, as if shrugging the whole idea off as just a small thing, even though I know the idea of leaving her mother and family behind troubles her to no end.

"Do you ever feel that way? Like you should live and let live? Ignore it?" I don't know what possesses me to ask such things, but the questions leave my mouth before I can even attempt to stop them.

"I want to ignore it and I know deep down you do too, but it's unavoidable. I-we've fought too long and hard to stop now. We need to fight. I want to. That's all there is to it."

I silently agree with her as I nuzzle her neck. Her body relaxes into mine and I know she is on the brink of sleep. I kiss her earlobe and whisper, "Goodnight."

In the distance I hear a wolf howl and crickets chirp. Our room is positioned so that the moons rays pour into the room, bathing us in silver.

It isn't long before I feel the nighttime pulling at my lids and into a deep, yet restless slumber.

Chapter Eleven - "To love one child and to love all children,

     whether living or dead   somewhere these two loves come
     together."

We went to bed at about nine-thirty, but staying asleep was harder for me than I anticipated. I want to say that it is because it is a new place with new sounds that is causing this restlessness, but as a woman with a past as a field agent, not even I can fool myself into thinking that. I have slept in so many cities and hotels I have lost count. Therefore I silently admit to myself it is just me.

I'd peeled myself quietly from Mulder's gentle hold on me, brushed my lips across his temple before leaving the room. As I passed through the living room I grabbed an afghan from the back of the couch. I noted from the small side-table clock that the time was four-seventeen and made my way to the front porch.

When we arrived I hadn't even noticed the rocking chair off to the side. The wood creaked a little as I settled onto the hard wood.

I have been out here maybe fifteen minutes, but it feels like hours. Every once in a while I rock the chair, my eyes fixed on the navy sky. A small gust rustles through the trees and I pull the blanket around me tighter. I have one leg curled to my chest, my arms looped around the knee, while the other stays on the ground keeping me balanced.

The sound of an opening door causes my ears to perk up, but I continue to keep my eyes to the stars.

"I was wondering if that was you who'd come out here."

Monica.

"Hi," I whisper, my eyes only glancing at her briefly before returning my gaze heavenward.

"I guess you couldn't sleep." She sits down beside the chair, now out of my peripheral vision.

I shrug. "I slept for a bit, then wound up lying there for almost two hours. I have a lot on my mind, I guess." The last statement comes out with a sigh.

"Understandable."

"You must've not been sleeping all too well yourself to have heard me." I finally look at her, somewhat amused.

"Up here you learn to sleep with one ear open. You have no idea how many, uh, 'critters' can find their way in at all hours of the night," she chuckles and switches from sitting on her haunches to sitting Indian style.

"Oh, I see. That's comforting," I only half-joke.

"Don't worry, we have yet to have a bear. It is usually raccoons or skunks. We've had a few badgers as well."

"Hmm." I bring my eyes to the moon, my back resting against the back of the chair. The moon is large and has a red gleam to it. Red at night, sailors delight, my dad always used to say. Out in the middle of nowhere where the largest body of water is a lake you can't take the saying to heart, but it makes me smile nonetheless.

Somewhere at the end of the porch a cricket can't decide if it wants to chirp or not. It sounds like it has the hiccups. Beside me Monica has grown silent. For a moment I think she is listening to the cricket and staring at the moon, but then I realize the reason for her quietude.

She wants to ask me something, but isn't quite sure how. After a moment of this near uncomfortable silence, she clears her throat and I brace myself.

"So what are you going to do?" She asks with hesitancy.

"About what?" I ask, my mind only half in the conversation and half someplace else. I honestly don't know what she is specifically referring to with the question.

"About William, Dana."

At the mention of his name, my eyes shoot back to her. They're sad eyes from the reflection I see on her face. I don't want pity in this particular part of my life and she doesn't give off any. She just cares.

After a few moments, I find my voice. "Mulder and I have talked about it. . . a lot. We've known what we were going to do since we decided to look for him, but we have officially decided that," deep breath, "we're letting them keep him. We all know that Mulder and I still have 'claim' on him, because Mulder never gave his consent on the adoption but . . . we think he should stay where he is." At that I give a wan smile.

"But Dana, as far as we know, your lives aren't in danger anymore. They're leaving you alone and "

"It's not about his safety anymore, Monica, not really. It's about doing the right thing. I know what's it like to want a child and then to finally be blessed with one. I know what it's like to have to say goodbye to that child. I've done it twice." I swipe at a tear on my cheek, it is then that my voice begins to tremble as I speak.

"I can't ask them to say goodbye, not when I have given them something so beautiful. I want to hold him again. God, I'd give anything to tuck him in at night or to be there on his first day of school. The thing is, I-we've been given another chance, a chance that the Van de Kamps were never given even once. Maybe this is how it's supposed to be. Maybe William was always meant to be with these people. And I think I can live with that. I'm willing to try anyway." I force a smile before taking in a deep, shaky breath.

The cricket must have given up, I muse, because it is nothing but silent now.

The woman beside me is left speechless and offers a nod as her only reply. Then it registers.

"Another cha . . . you don't mean . . ."

All I can do is nod, a few more tears streaking down my face. There is sadness in these tears, but now joy has mingled with the feeling of, what I feel as, mourning. It is a strange feeling when these two emotions mix together.

"Oh my God! Congratulations!" She bolts up from the ground, throwing her arms around me. I am startled some, but after a second of her squeezing me, I wrap my arms around her.

"How long have you known? Why didn't you tell me?" She pulls away from me, gaining eye contact at the questions.

"I've been pregnant for a little over a month. The only people who know are Mulder, my mom and the couple we befriended on the island. I guess I was just waiting for a good time to tell you. No better time than now, right?"

Monica's excitement and happiness rubs off on me now, so I can't help but laugh. Somehow we have maintained an even, quiet level of talking.

"I guess you might as well know that Mulder and I have decided to make it official." I wave my left hand, flashing the ring as proof. Monica's eyes widen and she hugs me again. She is about to say something when the front door opens.

"Monica?" I hear beyond the door. We both turn to see Gibson standing there in his rumpled white shirt and jungle green pajama pants. There is a look of urgency in his eyes.

"What is it Gibson?" Monica asks, walking to him.

"I got up to get some water and . . . there are raccoons in the kitchen again. I tried to get Doggett up, but he won't budge." He shrugs.

She rolls her eyes, I believe more at the idea of John in a deep sleep than the idea of raccoons in the kitchen. "All right, I'll take care of it. Dana, you and I will talk later. Until then, Gibson, why don't you stay out here and keep Dana company?"

"Okay." His eyes light up and he walks over to me. Monica retreats into the cabin, while Gibson and I settle comfortably down on the ground. I like to be at eye level with this particular person.

Usually I can feel it when he pokes around in my mind, but I don't have that feeling now. I appreciate it.

"Gibson, I never thanked you for taking care of Mulder," I say finally. "It meant so much to me and I know it did to him as well. So thank you."

"You're welcome, Scully. I know how much he means to you." Gibson smiles gently at that.

"Mmm," I say simply with a nod. "He means everything to me," I go on to admit.

"I know," he grins.

I can't help but chuckle, rolling my head back in exaggeration. "Ah, of course you do."

Suddenly his expression turns grave. "I know some other things as well," he informs me in an almost business-like manner. He reaches out his hand and places it over mine, both of them resting on my knee now. He must be sixteen now, but he is still so small, passing for only as old as ten or twelve despite his matured voice and mind. He is quite the extraordinary young man.

"I can imagine you do," I nod, my eyes casting down. For some reason I feel ashamed at him knowing what I have been thinking in the short time I have been here. How worried and pessimistic I have become in just the last few hours.

"I can't tell the future, Scully, so I can't tell you that everything is going to turn out exactly as you want it. But I can tell you, just from what I have come to understand and know about you and Mulder, that it will turn out as it should. That your story isn't over and you will get your happy ending."

Whose the adult here? The thought brings a smile to my lips, as do his words.

"And from what I understand," he smiles, "things are looking up for you two already." His eyes glance at my abdomen briefly.

I shrug and nod, as if saying 'as if you didn't know'.

"I've known since you got here," he responds, I assume to the thought in my mind.

"I never had a mother," he goes on to say, almost without thinking. "But I just want you to know that you. . . you are the closest thing I have come to having one. You were never like Them, Scully. You've always cared for me; something I have known and carried with me all these years." He's blushing a little at the confession; I am crying.

"Oh Gibson," I pull him to me, hugging him to me tightly.

It isn't until I feel the warmth of the rising sun on my back that I pull away from the boy, no, young man in my arms. I take note of his still uneven hair, where it never grew back to cover the scar. We exchange smiles and move to stand.

The night passed by so quickly.

"Let's get inside. All this emotional upheaval has actually made me a little tired," I wind up yawning at the statement.

"Okay." Gibson smiles, almost laughs. "I'll make you and Mulder breakfast this morning."

"You cook now? You will never cease to amaze me."

"Well, I can only make things like toast, pancakes and eggs," he shrugs. We make it inside the door, the afghan in one arm, the other wrapped around Gibson's shoulders.

"Hey, that is still better than what I could make at sixteen."

He looks up at me with proud eyes.

"Well, you go sleep Scully, you need it. I'll start breakfast at about nine."

"We'll be there. And hey . . . call me Dana," I wink. He smiles a little at that and I let him go.

As we go our separate ways, I scan the room and some of the kitchen for any sign of Monica. She must have rid the place of the raccoons and gone to bed, I decide. I throw the afghan neatly back onto the sofa and pad softly to the bedroom.

Mulder is still sound asleep, his hand stretched out beside him, having not moved since I got out of bed. I rub my arms with my palms to create some heat before climbing into bed.

"Brr, you're cold," Mulder mumbles as I settle in beside him.

"I went outside for some fresh air," I vaguely inform him.

"You went outside or you set up camp? You're an ice-sickle."

He opens his eyes, swollen from sleep. I face him with my body, wrapping one arm around his torso, the other going up to toy with his mussed up hair. We Eskimo kiss and I tuck my head under his chin, my ear resting just above his heart, the thump-thump almost a lullaby.

He encircles his arms around me, kissing the top of my head. I turn my head up briefly to kiss his clavicle in response. Immediately I cuddle into his body again, my arms crossing in front of my chest in an almost cocooned position. He sighs heavily.

"You seem different," he whispers.

"Good different?"

"Well, yeah, I mean you just seem . . . content. In case you haven't noticed, I've been worried about you since before we left the island." I feel his stomach contract and chest rise with the intake of a short, inaudible laugh.

"I'm just happy, that's all. I think . . . I think everything is going to be all right." It is the first time I have voiced anything resembling those words, and meaning them, in God only knows how long. Days maybe? Weeks?

He says nothing, just hums. It isn't long before the early birds begin their morning song. I sigh, a small sound escaping with the air. I sweep my hand over my belly, my hand resting their.

It stays there until I fall asleep, at last.

Chapter Twelve - "We will not grieve, rather find . . ."

We left at dawn, our seventeen day wait having come to an end. In the time spent at the cabin, we received four inches of snow. Winter comes so early up here.

Scully was doing fine our first few days on the mountain, physically and emotionally. I have yet to find out why her emotions made such a complete turn around by our second day. Physically, however, she has been sick the last five days or so. Just some nausea and headaches, as far as I know.

Before then she had been spending a pleasant amount of time with Gibson, who now calls her Dana. At night I would also hear she and Monica talking in the kitchen, sometimes in front of the fire. She informed Scully that a friend of the Lone Gunmen had been the one to locate William for us. I only vaguely recognized the name, Paul Peppard, but I let it go, not giving it a second thought. I was only grateful.

John kept a respectable amount of distance, but they engaged in one on one conversations every once and while. Part of the reason for their lack of contact was the fact that John and I had been gauging what necessities we would need for the fateful day of 2012. Therefore, John and I spent a lot of time together and got amazingly close.

However, it is the most time I have spent away from Scully in two and a half years. I didn't like that part one bit.

I haven't seen her break down yet and emotions have remained in check for the most part. Every now and then I have caught her staring aimlessly into space, the wheels almost visibly turning in her head.

It is roughly a ten hour drive to Rock Springs from Elliston. We all decided it would be best to drive for several reasons. One being because it would be safer that way. Despite Monica and John, and even Gibson's, attempts to assure us that there is nothing to worry about, we are still cautious of our surroundings. Even though three weeks, or rather three years seemed like a long time to absorb our situations, it did little to ease our nerves on seeing our son, therefore the drive should help. So far we are only four and a half hours into the drive and have yet to make a stop anywhere. I choose now to do just that. Pulling into a small gas station, I guide the car under the awning and shift into park, turning the engine off.

"What are you doing?" Scully asks, her head turning to me in a snap.

"I think we should stop for a few minutes, stretch our legs and get something to eat or drink. We also need gas, we're almost on empty. That okay?" I wonder, gently.

"Yes, sorry, I just . . . I'm a little . . ." the words trail off, never finishing. She blinks her eyes rapidly a few times, as if snapping herself out of something.

"I know, I'm a little . . . too." I don't fill in an adjective either, almost mockingly to add levity, but more so because I too can not find the word to describe what my nerves are doing. I trail my hand once down her arm, soothing.

"Come on," I say with a jerk of my head. She only nods and I hear the seatbelt make a clicking sound as she takes it off. As I exit, I catch her stretching, her arms high above her head. The wind causes her hair to slap at her face a little. She dyed her hair strawberry blonde a few days ago, deciding to inch slowly back to her auburn color. I make my way around the car. She turns to me and smiles.

I wrap my arms around her waist and cover her mouth with mine. She encircles my torso in response. As I pull away I notice a townsman, maybe sixty years old, quickly avert his eyes as he walks to his rusty pick-up truck. I guess this isn't the best place to display affection, this being such a conservative part of the state.

"Why don't you go on in, do what you need to do and get something. I'll pump the gas and meet you at the register."

"All right." She gives me a peck on the lips before freeing herself from the hold I have on her. I watch her as she walks away, then turn to the gas pump. I read the sign above it "Pay first, pump later" and shake my head. I head for the entrance.

Going in I notice that Scully is nowhere to be seen, so I safely assume she is in the lady's room. I pay the young woman, occupied with a magazine, go back to the car and fill the tank. When I come back in the second time around I spot Scully standing in front of the glass refrigerator that holds the drinks, considering.

"You know what you want?" She jumps at my voice, startled. I apologize with my eyes.

"I think just some fruit juice will do. My stomach isn't cooperating all that well with me right now."

I nod as I open the door to retrieve a root beer for myself. Must be fate, Mulder it's root beer . . . Oh if we only knew then what we know now. What we feel now.

"You coming?" I hear her ask, halfway to the register with her bottled orange juice in hand.

"Yeah." I grab a bag of Fritos and follow Scully to the counter.

I pay the still distracted young woman, her name tag now in view showing that her name is Lana, and we walk to the sedan. With our drinks secured in the cup holder and my Fritos bag open and reading for snacking, I start the engine and we pull onto the empty road.

Forty-five minutes into the drive and Scully has dozed off, her drink only half gone. I notice, with a smile, that her hand is resting protectively on her stomach, right where the baby's head will be in the next few months.

Her other hand is on the tiny cushion of a seat between us, practically inviting me to hold it. Without hesitance I weave our fingers together and her fingers curve around mine in surprising response, her lips curling ever-so slightly. She wasn't as asleep as I'd thought.

Moments later we hit the busy road again, with only five hours to go. I take a deep breath, subconsciously squeezing her hand with the inhale.

Only five more hours.

Chapter Thirteen - We Stand Alone Together

The jerk of the car coming to a stop pulls me from my half sleep. I wake to find the pleasant feel of Mulder's hand in mine. I glance to the side of me and conclude that he must have not been holding it the entire drive, the bag of Fritos half gone. My eyes then trail up his arm to his face and he is staring ahead, his eyes set on something I have yet to see.

I pull my self to a full sitting position, moving the seat up with me and follow his gaze. A white, wooden farmhouse rests in the distance, a dark green car and blue Ford truck parked on the side of the home, the sun beginning it's descent beyond the tall trees.

This is it. No more waiting.

Mulder takes notice that I am awake and squeezes my hand. I look to him, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. I purse mine together and sigh. Without speaking our hands pull away from one another.

I finally find my voice. "You ready?"

"No," he replies honestly with a shrug.

I smile, close mouthed, at his honesty. I nod in agreement. He reaches for the door handle, making the first move of getting out of the car. I follow suit shortly after.

We both round to the hood of the car, pause briefly. He pulls out a generic roll of spearmint mints, taking one for himself and giving one to me. I thank him with my eyes. In the past, while working a case, we would always try to chew a mint or something before questioning a suspect or witness. I guess he was subconsciously following tradition.

We suck on the mints for a few seconds before crunching them and swallowing. Then we walk in the direction of the pleasant house, Mulder allowing me to lead.

As we walk, dread, fear and something akin to guilt wash over me suddenly. No, not now, I plead. Like a thief in the night, these emotions steal any confidence I had in me.

I stop dead in my tracks, Mulder passing me on the dirt path that leads to the front door. He notices my hesitance and halts, turning to me.

My expression must give everything away. I can tell by how he's looking at me.

"I can't do this," I whisper, shaking my head.

He immediately rushes to me, gently cupping my face with both hands. The gesture, as always, relaxes me to some extent.

"Hey," he sweeps a thumb over my left cheek, the one word comforting in its tone. "We can do this," he continues, doing what he can to encourage me.

He's just as scared as I am. In the last few years I have learned to succumb to my emotions. At times it is a release to do just that, but sometimes I remember why I avoided it in the first place. The weakness that can sometimes accompany the surrender.

I take a few deep breaths, my eyes closed. I can feel him still looking at me, as if he is still trying hold eye contact. I open my blue eyes to his green and feel myself relax some more.

I give him a nod, signaling that I am okay now. He leans down and brushes his lips over my forehead. We turn to the path again and continue the journey to the front.

We stop in front of the screen door and I straighten my sapphire button up shirt. It almost feels like old times, me in my black slacks and formal business shirt and Mulder in his gray slacks and white dress shirt, sans jacket and tie.

When I walked out of the bedroom before leaving, I remember Mulder beaming and saying "Wow, you look amazing." The outfit being the closest thing to a business suit I had worn in a long time. We both miss that life from time to time.

He'd been dressed already, so I replied in kind with "So do you."

The memory eases me, pushing me closer to the feeling of contentment that had become my haven the last few weeks. Mulder's knocking pulls me back to the reality we are about to face.

Seconds later a man answers the door. David, I assume. He has friendly eyes, his smile welcoming, although his features show some confusion.

He's tall, although shorter than Mulder, dark receding hair, brown eyes.

"Can I help you?" He asks in a tenor voice.

A woman, Hannah, comes up behind him. She is short, about my height maybe taller with short, brown, curly hair pinned half up. Her body is pleasantly plump, her eyes a deep brown. She offers up a smile.

"Actually . . ." Mulder begins, but I realize he can't finish whatever he wants to say. The fear has officially taken hold. I hate that it chose now to sneak up on him.

I collect myself as well as I know how. I didn't want to have to be so blunt, but right now I feel there is no choice. I leave the charm and negotiation up to Mulder. Without him all we have is my honesty.

"We're here about William," I force out, my voice surprisingly calm.

The couples' eyes widen, almost scared.

"What about our son?" David asks, his voice having lowered to more of a baritone now. Hannah's hand has come up to grip her husband's biceps.

I can't do this.

I have to.

"We're his birth parents."

Chapter Fourteen - Seeing a Miracle

We all regard each other silently for what feels like hours. Hannah has so much fear in her eyes and I sense the same emotion coming from David.

And anger.

His hand flexes around the wood of the heavier door once, twice. He blinks, taking a deep breath. "Come in," he says, almost defeated. Hannah looks at him surprised at the offer, but says nothing, stepping aside with him to allow us inside.

Scully walks in ahead of me, my hand guiding her by the small of her back. She stops suddenly and prepares herself to speak.

"I just want you to know that," she inhales, exhales. "We're not here to take him away from you."

The fear that was once so palpable melts away from the couple with those words. I know they still have their guard up however. David wraps his arm around Hannah, protectively, and they nod not really knowing what else to say. I know how he feels, my body moving closer to Scully's body, my hand refusing to drop away from her back.

"Then why are you here?" Hannah finally asks.

I look around; spotting what must be their family room beyond an archway. There is no television but I see a couch and recliner. A turntable in the corner and along side it a sewing machine.

"Could we sit down?" I ask politely, with caution.

"Yes, please," David says, his softer tone having returned. He ushers us to the couch and we sit down.

I notice now that the room is strewn with toddler's toys. Building blocks, trucks and cars, puzzles and coloring books. I glance at Scully, gauging how the room is affecting her. It does as I suspected it would.

Her eyes are watering, a sad smile on her lips. I bring my arm up, stroking my palm over her back, her muscles tense.

"Would you like something to drink?" Hannah offers, playing hostess, trying for normalcy.

"No, thank you," Scully and I reply in unison.

David has pulled up a fold out chair in front of us, letting Hannah have the gray recliner. An uncomfortable silence settles over the room, until I remember why we came in here in the first place. Before either Scully or I can reply to the earlier asked question, David speaks.

"We were told the mother was single. That the reason for the adoption was for the safety of the child." At his first statement he looks confusingly at Scully, at the second he looks at me accusingly. He thinks I am the reason. I try not to take offense, considering this man knows nothing of our history.

Scully and I exchange glances, not quite sure on how to respond. Scully talks first.

"Um, Fox," her hand comes up to squeeze my thigh, "and I, we . . . weren't, aren't married. During the months I had William, Fox was away . . . on business. In fact he didn't even know I had made the decision until he came back only some weeks later." It's not a lie, but to go into what my 'business' was, probably wouldn't bring these people to trust us.

"Business? For six months?" David asks, perplexed.

"Dana and I worked for the government, the FBI. The job required me to leave because . . . I took on the responsibility of finding out some things that could put us, all of us, in danger."

Scully's hand comes up to cup her mouth, her eyes widening.

"Excuse me, could you point me to the bathroom?" She asks from behind her hand, her voice urgent.

"Yes, down the hall to the left," Hannah points, worry in her voice.

Scully stands up and rushes to the bathroom as casually as she can. I follow her with my knowing eyes. She hadn't been feeling too well all day. I wasn't so sure she would make it this far without throwing up. Although, I can't be so sure she didn't back at the gas station.

"Is she all right?" Hannah asks, her eyes glued to the bathroom door.

"Yes, she's just " I begin but am interrupted by David.

"I'm sorry, but you never told us why you were here," he says, impatience creeping in, in a not so subtle manner.

"Right. I think we should wait until Dana is back, if you don't mind."

A frustrated sigh comes from the man across from me and I can't help but feel somewhat irritated at his impatience. I hear the door click open and Scully comes out, a forced smile on her face. I sense embarrassment as well.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes, taking her place beside me.

"It's all right." David was going to say something, but Hannah replied before he got the chance, a warning glance aimed at him for only a moment.

"Are you okay?" Hannah goes on to ask.

"Yes I . . ." Scully struggles with what to say, looking at me before she goes on to say, "the truth is, I'm pregnant."

This takes the couple by surprise.

"I see." Hannah doesn't seem to like this news, her voice alone giving that away.

Without missing a beat, David, a man I am struggling to respect, turns his eyes to Scully, meeting her blue depths with his darker brown ones.

"Are you going to give this one up too?" It's cold, harsh, something I was unaware could come from this man, despite the fact I don't him well at all.

Scully takes in a hurtful breath at his inquiry, tears immediately springing to her eyes. Hannah is struck dumb beside her husband, obviously as shocked as any of us. I feel my face redden with rage. Before I can stop myself I am towering over the man, my jaw clenched.

"Listen, Mr. Van de Kamp, I understand that our coming here is a surprise and probably an unwelcome one. I also understand that you are scared of what our purpose for being here is. However, you will not take out any of your frustrations on Dana. To even suggest that we would--" my voice catches before I can repeat his accusation.

"Why would now be any different . . . Fox, is it?"

"You have no idea," Scully chimes in, her voice soft and laden with unshed tears. "You have no idea how hard that decision was for me. What I went through to have pushed me to such a decision. Our son," she recoils, catching herself, "William is a very special child and he was made a target by people who meant him nothing but harm. I could not risk his life. I would rather have given him up to a new life than risk losing it all together. I am a good person, a good mother and I do not deserve to be treated like I left my son on your doorstep so that my life would be better!"

Suddenly she grabs her stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick again." Without a second glance, she rushes to the bathroom, nothing but urgency in her slight jog this time.

I don't even excuse myself as I follow her. I make it to the door before she can shut it, her racking sobs and vomiting making a sound I never want to hear again.

The sound tears at me.

As I enter, I note with relief that she made it to the toilet on time. She's clutching her stomach, as if trying to protect the baby from the contracting of her muscles.

I spot the washcloth she must have used before and rinse and wet it again. I kneel beside her, stroking her back. I don't say a word, just use the cloth to wipe at her brow. She flushes the commode, then rests her cheek on the cool porcelain.

"I really wanted to avoid a break down while I was here." Her voice is shaking from sobbing, her voice gravelly.

"Hey, I'm proud of you for holding up this long, Scully. You couldn't help what happened out there. What he said . . ."

She closes her eyes as she nods, a final tear trickling down, landing in the water to make a ripple.

"They're not bad people, Mulder. They're just scared, confused."

I smile, a silent chuckle deep within my belly. She's defending these people. That man. Good ol' Scully, how I love you. I've been putting myself in their shoes for weeks now, to better prepare myself, but the behavior today was just flat out unexpected.

She readies herself to rise and I assist her. I offer her the washcloth, she wipes her mouth, walking to the sink. She rinses her mouth out.

"Can I have another mint?" She asks after turning off the water, smiling wanly.

I pull out the roll and give one to her. She takes it with a thankful, weak smile, already having started towards the door. I stop her, my hand on her shoulder. She turns to me and falls into my