TITLE: 'The Beginning And The End' (parts 22-23 of ??)
AUTHOR: XSketch (XSketch@hotmail.com)
WEBSITE: http://thesketchfiles.bravehost.com
DISCLAIMER: See part 1 for all disclaimers.

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The phone call was a surprise, but sadly it wasn't who 
had been hoped for at the other end.

"What do you know about it?"

Jeff Spender paced the room with the cordless phone 
pressed to his ear as Agent Doggett's voice barked out 
the accusatory question.

"It's...It's a weapon," the deformed man hesitated.

He'd been hoping for a return call from someone with a 
possible lead in his continuing search for William 
Scully-Mulder.  The last thing he had expected was 
Doggett and questions about the metallic icepick used to 
kill the clones and bounty hunters... For that matter, 
he hadn't even known the thing was still on the planet.

"To the base of the neck.  It's the only thing that can 
kill Them."

"*Who normally has possession of it?*" Reyes' distant 
voice could be heard.

"Yeah, who owns it?" Doggett agreed.

"Alien or human?"

"A--?...Hey, I thought you just said this *kills* the 
'aliens'!?"  The level of scepticism and confusion in 
the male agent's voice was palpable, and Spender 
couldn't help but smile at the thought he had the upper 
hand in some way.

"The shape-shifting bounty hunter - who, I believe, you 
encountered whilst searching for Mulder - used that to 
kill the clones."

"Like Kurt Crawford?"

Maybe the guy *wasn't* as stupid as he looked!

"You know him?"

At the other end of the line, John looked down at the 
cylindrical plam in his hand, grumbling, "Long story.  
Look, what I wanna know is what it's doing here?  This 
guy phones reporting a strange bright, white light, and 
the only evidence we find that anyone or anything was 
ever here is a deserted truck and this...*thing*!  I 
only know what I read in the files, and I can't make the 
connection.  You know this crap up-close and very 
personally..."

Monica gently touched her partner's arm as she stared 
with concern at the growing frustration on his face.  
The fact was they both knew this *had* to be important 
and something key to their survival for Dana to put all 
their necks on the line by getting the motel manager to 
make the call.  But they just didn't have the knowledge 
necessary to connect the dots (no amount of research 
would ever be able to match first-hand experience) and 
it made them feel even more useless at a time when they 
needed all the luck they could get.

She glanced over briefly at their parked car and spotted 
the purposeful movement inside it, so she gave Doggett's 
arm a squeeze and then moved to open the driver's side 
door.

"What is it?" she gently queried, bending down to look 
in at the boy that lay on the back seat.

Gibson shifted slightly so that he could gain better eye-
contact with the agent, and then quietly announced, 
"There's something in the trailer."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"This is child's play!" the disgusted voice cried out as 
the exclaimee turned in his seat to stare at his 
companions.  "You wanna set me a challenge for a change?"

Yves Harlow let out a deep, exasperated sigh and then 
dropped herself uncharacteristically ungracefully into 
the chair beside Kimmy.  She knew she was here by choice 
- that this wasn't a job and she wasn't being forced to 
do any of it, let alone be huddled in the back of the 
damp, cold VW bus - but she did have to wonder what the 
hell she'd done to be punished with this never-ending 
nightmare.

There had been an oversight.

Caught up in the action of gaining new identities for 
the two fugitives and then trying to distance themselves 
as far as possible from the couple, they had forgotten 
to run a requested check-up on all calls going to and 
from Assistant Director Bryant's office at the Hoover 
Building.  And they probably would have continued to 
forget about it had it not been for an unexpected phone 
call from John Doggett in the early hours of the morning 
today saying he'd spoken to Holly at the Communications 
division (who'd apparently reported 'strange behaviour' 
at the headquarters) and had reason to believe the line 
had been used to make international phone calls.

"She also told me that she wasn't sure of its 
importance, but she'd noted a large number of calls from 
DD Kersh's office to a military base on the west coast.  
She couldn't track down a name or address, though."   
The agent had quickly added - before disconnecting, 
"Please, get it."

And so what Kimmy liked to refer to as 'the hack-fest' 
had begun.  Sadly, though, when the guy wasn't verbally 
abusing Jimmy Bond, he liked to show off his hacking 
abilities and make everybody praise him for them, big 
time.  Even though it had taken him five hours to crack 
the extra firewalls that had gone up on the federal 
network, he still liked to pretend it was simple.

And it was all driving Harlow up the wall.

A brief glance over her shoulder did little at all to 
help her relax.  Jimmy sat behind the wheel of the 
vehicle with his head lowered a fraction, shoulders 
hunched and hands gripping tightly to the steering 
wheel.  He'd been unexplainably quiet, fidgety and all-
round closed off since last night, and she wished she 
knew what had triggered the mood swing.  Yves knew it 
would be unfair to him to get his hopes up and say they 
had a 'romantic' relationship, but she harboured a deep, 
affectionate love for him - able to see the tenderness 
he held in his heart so many others were blind to due to 
his slight slow-wittedness - and cared enough to want to 
protect his emotions, so a resolution to the problem 
(whatever it was) had to be found.

...But, first things first, and more important answers 
had to be found.

Harlow turned back to face the laptop screen.  "I take 
it, by your comment, that you've retrieved the 
information we need?" she started.

Kimmy sharply turned on her, a frown deeply creasing his 
brow.  He had stayed to help simply because he felt a 
slight loyalty to his three deceased buddies, and the 
good excuse to hack into government files, but his 
company's 'plainness' wasn't making him too cheery - it 
only made him feel trapped.  He couldn't say how he 
would change them if he could; he just knew they had to 
be different to how they were or else he'd be driven to 
kill the both of them.

"I'm sorry," Yves apologised, noticing the hurt Kimmy 
hadn't even realised was evident on his face.  "But you 
realise how important this is?  There can be no room for 
error, and you're the best person to help us."  A little 
ego stroking couldn't hurt.  "We'll never get credit, 
but a lot rides on us being able to provide this 
information to the FBI agents."

A sigh which gave no hint whatsoever as to what his 
answer would be, and then Kimmy outstretched a hand to 
point at the notebook's screen.

"I may have made out I was able to get more than I 
actually did," he grumbled, looking in turn at each of 
his companions (trying to decide which of them to place 
the blame on for that).  "I was able to break through 
the initial firewalls and trace the number back to an 
area, but I can't narrow it down to a specific person or 
office, and none of the known bases there match."

Yves tugged on her lip thoughtfully for a second.  "Did 
you ta--"

"Yes, I've tapped into that phone, and the guy made a 
call about an hour ago to this same place, but 
whatever's being used to scramble the line is damn 
effective!"

"Well...let's just try to narrow down the area to look 
in first.  There must be a reason for the frequency of 
the calls and the high security precautions being 
taken," the woman finished, looking back at the 
displayed map in front of her.  "Where did you say again?"

"San Diego."
 
XXXXXXXXXXXXX

BILL AND TARA SCULLY RESIDENCE

"Gramma?"

Maggie looked up from the cookie dough she was just 
finishing making and then turned to smile at her 
grandson.  "Hi, honey.  What's the matter?"

The boy looked perturbed as he asked, "Can you tell me 
about Aunty Dana?"

The older woman froze as the question sank in.  Over the 
passing weeks she'd been on a roller-coaster of emotion 
- beginning to believe the lie she'd had to tell 
everybody else that her youngest daughter was dead.  
Thankfully Tara had helped her talk through most of what 
she was feeling.  But with no word as to if it was safe 
for her to return home, and Bill barely showing his face 
at home, Maggie had resigned herself to just doing 
whatever she could around her new home with no questions 
asked.

Dana's name had not been mentioned in the hope it would 
aid her emotional healing process...

...Until now...

"Why?"  She couldn't hide the tremor in her voice, and 
yet at the same time hearing the name from this boy did 
not upset her - in fact, it had the opposite effect.

"Well...uh..."  Matthew hesitated as he used the tips of 
his bare toes on his left foot to draw imaginary circles 
on the floorboards.  "I remember her, but I hear Daddy 
say bad things about her and now all my memories are 
jumbled..."  A pause as he attempted - unsuccessfully - 
to look up at his grandmother.

"Bad things?"  They'd argued about Dana's reasons for 
everything that had happened since joinng the FBI - 
Bill's closing note being that they couldn't let her 
tear them apart anymore.  Maggie hadn't expected her 
eldest son to bad-mouth his 'dead' sister to his son 
though!  

In fact, she had to wonder if Tara knew...

"How did Aunty Dana die?"  Ignoring the question, Matt 
threw his own painful blow, catching her off-guard.

A moment's silence was all she needed, however, to 
regain control and truthfully reply, "Your Aunt Dana 
worked to make things better in this world, but bad 
people didn't like how well she did her job.  So they 
tried to stop her and Fox from continuing.  That doesn't 
mean Bad is better though, Matthew - your aunt was a 
very special lady, and she'll be watching over you 
always to make sure you do the right thing."  Why was it 
so natural to speak of her daughter in the past tense?  
Had she really come to terms with that possibility?  Had 
disowning Dana after William's adoption dulled the blow 
and ensuing pain?...

"Daddy say she was 'stupid'...something with her head...
something wrong with it, I mean...Why?  And why's he not 
like Mister Fox?"

Bill really had been on a roll with words and opinions!  
She'd not heard any of what Matt was now relaying to 
her, so she wondered when the hell it had been implanted 
into the innocent child's head - more to the point: at 
what young age that seed had originally been sown.  She 
was determined to not let Matt see how much it was 
bothering her though - she *couldn't*.

"Daddy is older than Uncle Charlie - he was the eldest 
of all his siblings - so when your grandfather died, 
Bill - your daddy - took it upon himself to be the man 
of the house and look after everybody.  Sadly, he is 
very bullheaded, and his view of what's best for others 
is not necessarily the correct one.  That doesn't mean 
he's not trying - it just means he should listen to 
others more and see what they see."  Wiping her hands on 
the bottom of her apron, Maggie guided Matthew over to 
the kitchen table, where they both sat down.  "You see, 
Aunt Dana and her work partner - Fox - worked very hard 
and very closely together...Their job needed them to 
gain the greatest trust in each other.  With that came 
care and love.  But, d'you remember those bad people I 
mentioned earlier?"

Too engrossed in the tale to let words pass his lips, 
Matthew gave a simple nod.

"Well, they did all they could to destroy and split up 
Dana and Fox, including killing your Aunt Melissa--"

"Daddy said Mister Fox killed her, though..."

"That's because Daddy thinks his younger sister 
shouldn't have worked with Uncle Mulder - that it was 
Uncle Mulder's fault there are evil people in this 
world.  But, despite all the times Fox and Dana saved 
each other and how great the feelings they had were, 
they didn't confess their love to each other for *many* 
years, and shortly after then Fox was taken away by even 
nastier people.  God brought him back to life, though, 
and your--...your cousin William was born..."

"But the nasty monsters came back to take him away 
again, didn't they?"

'Monsters'?... Surely she'd said 'people'...

"Ye-es...So, to protect his family, Fox left.  When he 
was later captured, Aunt Dana and her friends helped him 
escape, and that made the bad men mad, so they chased 
them down...and that's how she died..."

"But, gramma..."  Another awkward pause as the boy 
stared up into the old woman's tear-filled eyes.  "It 
all ends happily ever after in the books...Why not now?"  
An expression of frustration and sadness creased his 
small face, and Maggie quickly moved to hug him.  "Does 
that mean the good lost?"  Despite his father's 
ignorance, the boy definitely had the female side of the 
Scully family's compassion in him - in fact, he reminded 
her of Dana a bit.

And at that moment, realisation she'd been dodging for 
months finally hit home - the decisions Dana had had to 
follow making sense: why she'd questioned the miracle of 
William's birth, had given him away, had left them all 
behind to be a fugitive on the run with the man she 
loved, and why she (Maggie) was now here at her eldest 
son's home.  Two months ago she'd handed a letter to 
Walter Skinner containing words with little thought 
behind them (having just let the pen and her hand do all 
the work), and since she'd arrived in San Diego she'd 
only thought of her daughter's actions as selfish.  For 
some reason this talk with Matty had unlocked the hidden 
knowledge that in fact *she* was the one being selfish: 
Dana had been through so much and always put the safety 
of her family and others before her own happiness...That 
included sending Will as far away as possible from 
harm's reach.

Not even seizing some semblance of happiness shied away 
from danger.  If anything, Dana was once again 
protecting her remaining blood relatives by leaving with 
Mulder.

"No, sweetie - the good always win.  They're just taking 
a time-out so that when the baddies take a rest they can 
pounce," Margaret Scully sighed, wiping her damp cheek 
against the crest of the boy's head.

"But she's still dead--"

"Matthew?" Tara's voice suddenly started from the 
kitchen doorway.  Both the boy and his grandmother 
looked up.  "What have you been asking Granma?  What did 
your father and I tell you ab--"  Guiltily, she cut 
short and cleared her throat before focusing on Maggie.  
"Are you okay?  Did he say something to upset you?"

"No," came the quick defense as the older woman released 
the boy and then gently ruffled his hair.  "He's been 
keeping me company, haven't you Matthew?"

Small, blue eyes lifted to stare at her incredulously 
before he turned back to look at his mother.  "Hm mm.  
Gramma's making cookies so I thought I'd help," he 
smiled.

"Oh-kay... So what's with all the tears?"

Ah...There was a good question...

"Uh....Well....umm..."

"Tommy's pet dog died yesterday and it made me sad, so I 
thought I'd tell Gramma."

Tara stared hard at the two for a moment - certain there 
was something going on being kept from her - but she 
chose not to press.  They had the right to share stuff, 
and she wasn't about to become the prison warden she'd 
accused her husband of being.

"Oh, okay," she smiled.  "Well, I need to go to the 
store.  D'you wanna come, Matthew?"

One last glance at Maggie, before he trotted over to his 
mother.

Just as she was following him out of the kitchen, Tara 
suddenly turned back round.  "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine - actually, better than I've been in a long 
while.  Now, stop worrying and have a safe shopping 
trip.  By the way, will Bill be home tonight for dinner?"

"Uh..."

"Tara?  What's going on?  I called the base and asked 
when he'd be back, but they said he wasn't even at sea, 
so I asked just to be put through to him...There was 
some ringing on the other end, but then the line just 
cut off..."  Maggie stood up and slowly approached her 
daughter-in-law.

"Must have been a bad connection - a lot of the old 
communication units are being updated."

Both women looked round at the sound of the deep voice 
to see a uniformed Bill Jr. standing not far behind his 
wife, who quickly moved to kiss and hug him.  Feeling 
suspicion bubbling in her veins, Maggie stayed seated - 
as did the frown across her forehead.

"What's wrong, Mom?  You look like you've seen a ghost?" 
Bill asked.

Funny...That was exactly how she felt.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

St. PAUL, MINNESOTA

The doors on the back of the trailer were pulled open 
and then (weapons and flashlights at the ready) agents 
Doggett and Reyes hauled themselves up inside.

"He said it was in here," Monica whispered, doing a 
visual sweep of the empty container.  When nothing 
turned up, she used the powerful torch to illuminate it 
more.

Doggett glanced at his partner before taking several 
steps forward and conducting his own search.  "Maybe the 
kid was wrong," he commented.  "Made a mistake."

She wasn't convinced, though, and shook her head - 
letting out a thankful sigh as she noticed the small 
slip of folded paper not far ahead of them.  "See?"

"A bit of paper?  I thought we were looking for a 
person?!"  'A person like Scully or Mulder...' his brain 
silently added, but he knew he couldn't voice that.  So 
instead he watched her bend to pick the item up and 
unfold it.  "What's it say?  'You are here'?"

Monica gave a disgusted snort before focusing on the 
words scrawled across the dirty sheet.

        'Saw Alien Bounty Hunter and ship.  
        Supersoldier in police vehicle 
        escaped.  Fine but badly shaken.  
        Don't get in danger, but please 
        see if can find out what happened.  
        Eternally grateful for everything 
        over last two years.  Take care 
        and be happy.'

There was no signature at the bottom, but Monica didn't 
need to be told that this was Dana's handwriting.

"They're spreading," she remarked distantly, re-folding 
the paper.

"Yeah, but why here?" Doggett questioned as he began to 
pace back and forth.  "DC and Virginia are perfect 
because of the government buildings there, but...
Minnesota?"

Reyes gave an agreeing nod of her head and then tried to 
put the pieces of the large, complicated puzzle together.

"Unless They know where they are..." 

She looked down at the paper still in her hands for a 
moment before meeting his gaze - her mind still ticking 
over.  "Maybe..."  The stiletto; The scorch marks on the 
road...She could have sworn she'd read about or heard 
one of them mention a corrosive agent bled by unknown 
assailants described as 'bounty hunters'... And what had 
Spender said about the weapon's use again?  "Or maybe 
not.  What if--...The fleeing supersoldier must have 
killed the bounty hunter, but that doesn't make sense 
because they're supposed to be on the same side."  Some 
pieces of the final picture appeared to be missing.  
"Unless there was some other kind of intervention..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!  Monica, hey, just stop there one 
damn minute!  We're supposed to be helping Mulder and 
Scully out, not coming up with some BS aliens-against-
aliens conspiracy theory!"

"But what if it is?  Dana almost implies it here in her 
note, you even said yourself that Them being here didn't 
make sense, and - supposing she *is* trying to help even 
a fraction - what do you think Shannon's doing?  If the 
alien bounty hunter and the supersoldier had found 
Scully and Mulder, why didn't They kill them?  End this 
stupid charade?"  She waited for a comeback, but when he 
only frowned his response she finished, "Because maybe 
we're only concentrating on one small possible scenario 
and ignoring the rest of the whole thing.  Something 
happened here and we need to figure it out if we want to 
help Mulder and Dana."

"And you intend to start where?"

The female agent faltered, beginning to doubt her right 
to come up with such theories.  She'd barely been on the 
X-Files a year, and - other than the few encounters 
they'd had with the supersoldiers over that time - the 
only real insight she had into the conspiracy their 
predecessors had had to contend with came from reading 
case reports.  Those were not qualifications enough to 
gain the right to start concocting such complex 
scenarios - especially not when she was tired, still 
injured and desperate to knock some kind of sense into 
her partner.

...If she could just avoid the sense telling her she was 
right...

Her mouth opened so that she could try answer his 
question, but that was when the sound of a ringing cell 
phone filled the air, making them both jump.

Realising what and whose it was, John sighed and reached 
into his coat pocket to pull out his phone.  "Yeah?"

"Doggett?  It's Brad Follmer," an awkward voice 
hurriedly whispered down the line.

"Mr Follmer!  What a pleasant surprise!" Doggett 
exclaimed sarcastically, raising his eyebrows.

"This isn't funny!...Where the fuck are you?  Things are 
going to hell here and I've been trying to get hold of 
you for a week!"

Monica stepped closer to listen in on what was being 
said down the line after noting in the beam of the 
flashlight the deep frown crinkling her partner's 
features.  Brad?  Why was he calling John and not her if 
he had something to share?

"My...uh...My phone's been playing up, and...uhm...I've 
popped outta town for a couple days," Doggett cautiously 
responded, staring at her.

"Well, you better get here now.  I don't know what you 
and Monica have gotten into, but there's a guy 
threatening me - demanding I arrange for you to meet him 
- and the investigation into the 'theft' of those 
'confidential papers' is not so secret anymore."

At the other end of the line, the bloodshot eyes of 
Assistant Director Brad Follmer flicked back and forth - 
constantly checking that nobody was in the room.

The grey-haired man had been here again not ten minutes 
ago, demanding that Follmer get in contact with his ex-
colleague immediately.  When Brad had frantically 
insisted he'd been trying to sort it with no luck, the 
stranger Fox Mulder had known as Richard Matheson had 
produced several photographs from the inside pocket of 
his trenchcoat. 

"That's what will happen to you, me, Doggett - everyone 
- if you don't get off your sorry rear and make sure I 
see him!" the man had barked, thrusting a finger at the 
images as Follmer stared at them with wide, sickened and 
disbelieving eyes.  In them, a headless body lay on a 
blood-soaked carpet - despised, forgotten, and ready to 
be quickly swept away and incinerated before any real 
authorities discovered its existence.  The last picture 
showed a close-up of the decapitated and mutilated head 
of Strughold.

"Who is this?  When did this happen?....*What* 
happened?" the AD had gulped, running a hand across his 
suddenly-dry mouth.

"The first two are irrelevant - at least as far as you 
need to be concerned.  The third?  What happened is what 
will happen no matter what to the human race, but you 
can slow it down if you get in contact with Agent 
Doggett!"  

Cowering in the shadows of his own home as he spoke into 
the phone receiver gave no relief from the pictures that 
refused to stop haunting him.

"Who's threatening you?" John questioned, moving towards 
the exit of the trailer.  "What's--"

"Look, I can't talk.  Just get here now!"

The connection abruptly cut off.

With wide eyes, Monica touched the sleeve of her 
partner's shirt so that he looked at her.  "It's too 
dangerous...Gibson..."

"I know."  John sighed, remained silent for a moment as 
his mind processed the options, and then tentatively 
rubbed the bruise on the side of his neck.  "And that's 
why you're gonna go on with Gibson alone."

"Bu--"

"Something's going down, and we need to know what that 
is - you were saying that yourself before Follmer 
called.  We don't know where to start looking for 
answers to anything, but if this guy that's desperate to 
see us has something - *anything* - I gotta be able--...
It's worth the risk."  Another sigh as he noted the look 
of defiance burning in her stare.  "Monica, believe me, 
I don't like this anymore than you do, but at least if 
we split up, we've got more chance of covering ground.  
You go and pass that message to Mrs. Scully and get 
Gibson as well as yourself safe.  I'll catch you up."

"How are you gonna get back?  We've only got the one car 
and--"

"I'll sort something out with the manager.  Just go."

She knew it had to be done, but the thought of letting 
him go seemed too final for her liking.   The hand on 
his arm moved down so that their fingers could entwine.  
"You could be killed..."

"I'm...I'm in no greater danger than any of us are."  
Slipping his free hand into his pocket, he pulled out 
the evidence bag containing the stiletto.  "Take this."

There was no argument, no matter how much she believed 
he should keep a hold of it.  This was all too surreal, 
and Reyes just hoped she awoke from this dream as soon 
as possible.

No words, no thought, but lips met for the first time 
and they savoured this moment before the inevitable 
departure happened.

Outside, Gibson watched the motel manager walk back to 
his cabin, shot a glance toward the truck trailer and 
then got out of the car to move toward the room Mulder 
and Scully had stayed in.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Finally home was just five minutes away!  It had taken 
six-and-a-half weeks of driving across the country with 
a couple close calls (recent food poisoning not included) 
along the way, so a few more minutes should have seemed 
like nothing.  But the man was so excited he just knew 
the time would stretch out into an eternity.

Then again, if he thought about it more thoroughly, it 
had in fact taken them little over a decade to reach 
this important stage in their lives.  They deserved this.

He shot a glance over his shoulder at the woman - his 
much-better half - that lay across the back seat of the 
large vehicle, and a sad smile tugged at his lips.  The 
uncontrollable bouts of vomiting appeared to have 
finally ceased, but she'd come over dizzy and he had 
forced her to move into the back at the last gas stop 
twenty minutes ago.  She had fallen asleep not long 
after.

He could give her his devotion, a beautiful house, 
everything he was and almost anything she asked from 
him; could promise her financial security; show her a 
sunset and sunrise...

And yet he couldn't promise her good health or safety.

Couldn't give her back her son.

Shaded damp eyes focused on the road ahead once again.  
They *could* do this...They could.  And if things looked 
to be too dangerous, they could just move on to one of 
the other residences he had ensured would be available 
for them elsewhere (including across the Canadian 
border).  But so much had always slipped from their 
grasp, it was difficult to believe that anything good 
could happen and stay with them.

The car turned onto the long, beaten track that led up 
to the place.  T-minus one minute and counting.  The 
town was tiny with a dwindling population anyway, but 
the house he'd picked out in the presence of Jimmy, Yves 
and Kimmy was about as secluded as you could get, 
separated from civilisation by a band of trees.  He just 
hoped she liked it.

The man known to a majority of the outside world only as 
Stephen Bydrell brought the vehicle to a gradual halt, 
and now there was no holding back the tears as he sat 
and stared at the building.  The online pictures 
certainly did *not* do it justice.  He'd told her that 
they were going to a deserted, run-down place that would 
need a lot of renovation work (winning her over by 
noting how they could make it their own dream home that 
way), but in reality it was a beautiful two-storey 
abode.  No white-picket fence, but that could be 
rectified.

He got out and moved to open one of the back passenger 
doors.

"Scully?" he gently whispered, leaning in and running a 
tender finger down her cheek.  "Scully, honey, we're 
here..."  He paused, the endearment used echoing in his 
head.  He'd never used it before, and she had only said 
it a couple times, yet it had rolled off his tongue so 
naturally...

'Getting far too sentimental in your old age,' his brain 
teased.

It kept bugging at him, though, until he finally 
resolved that he would only use it again somewhere later 
down the line or when she gave the impression it was 
okay to use.

There was movement from the previously-snoring body 
nevertheless.

"Hey."  A warm smile accompanied his quiet tone, and he 
patiently waited until blue eyes opened to look at him.

"Hey," came her sleepy reply as they did.

"C'mere, Sleeping Beauty, I got something to show you."

"Mul--"

"Shhh.  Come on - you won't believe this!  It's gotta be 
the eighth wonder of the world!"

With an aggravated groan she sat up, waited for him to 
step aside, and then stood up out on the gravel 
driveway, rubbing sleep from her eyes.  When they 
finally cleared and focused, Dana Scully stared, 
dumbfounded, at what she would easily consider a palace 
if it were hers.

Something wasn't right... Why was he showing her this?  
Wouldn't the owners be annoyed to see two strangers out 
on their driveway?  And--

"Ours."

She looked up as the word he'd whispered into her ear 
began to register.  "Mulder, what are you talking about?  
We're moving into a run-down shack - a place 
'practically like one of those flea-infested motels from 
our past' you said.  This...This is--"

"Home.  *Our* home.  I may have kinda told a little 
white lie when I said where we were going."  No matter 
how hard he tried, he couldn't stop the smirk spreading 
across his face.  He noted how breathtaken she looked, 
but wasn't surprised when she continued to question.

"We can't afford this!"  A slim hand shot out to point 
at the bag of cash in the back of the SUV Skinner had 
brought which was now only quarter-full.  "We need to 
save everything we can, and...and as lovely as it is, we 
can't...It's just not for us."

"Scully, let me ask you one question: do you like it?"

What kind of question was that?  A frown rested across 
her forehead and she studied him as she felt one of his 
arms wrap around her waist.  "Of course, bu--"

He cut her short by pulling her up against his warm body 
and then slipping his free arm around her as well.  
"Then believe me when I say it's ours to do with as we 
please," Mulder sighed quietly against the crest of her 
hair.  "Now, stop worrying.  I told you it'll be okay, 
and I'm gonna do all I can to make sure it will.  We'll 
have to use Skinman's generous donation for a couple 
more days - maybe a week to ten days at most - but after 
I've got a few things sorted I'll finally have safe 
access to my inheritances and we won't have any 
financial worries."

With the side of her head pressed against his chest (the 
sound of his slightly-racing heartbeat thrumming in her 
ear), Scully blinked back tears and then focused once 
again on the family-sized, white-painted house.

Theirs.

Secluded, pretty, and there was something in the air 
that smelt achingly familiar.

Theirs.  A real family home of their own.

...Family...

Suddenly the word conjures up in her mind images of 
William and those last precious hours they'd all had 
together before Mulder had had to leave, and she has to 
quickly bury her face against the t-shirt covering the 
top half of his solid frame to hide the new flow of 
tears.  It can't mask the sobs that wrack her body, 
however, and as she's jolted by the raw emotion he 
tightens the embrace - burying his nose into her hair.

"Shhh."  Slow, quiet, hypnotising, understanding.  "It's 
okay...No more tears..."

Gradually the moment passes - helped along by numerous 
conversations they've had along the way to try clear the 
air.  With a sniff, Dana pulls away enough to be able to 
look up at her partner and is about to kiss him when her 
knees unexpectedly buckle, the light-headedness returns 
and she has to brace her hands on the strong arms 
holding her up to ensure she doesn't collapse on the 
floor.

"Whoa!  Scully?  Scully, are you alright?"

When he receives no reply he swiftly scoops her up and 
walks to the front entrance.

"You know, there are better ways of asking me to carry 
you over the threshold!" he smirks dryly, awkwardly 
shifting to bend and open the door.

"Sorry," Scully weakly replies.  "But you should be 
proud you have the power to make women faint in your 
arms."

"I already knew that...It's not normally for a good 
reason, though.  Besides, there's only one woman I want 
that power over."

"Do I know her?"

"I'm not sure, but she's a little pissed at me right now 
so you probably--...Hey, look at this!"

Thinking over what he had started to say, it took her a 
beat before catching on to the sudden change of subject 
and turning her head to study the hallway they were now 
in.  White walls, dark wood-panelling on the floor, and 
a large pot-plant beside the foot of the staircase 
straight ahead.  In the wall to their right was an open 
doorway which led into what appeared to be a large, 
sparsely-furnished lounge area, and on the opposite side 
were two more rooms (the doors to which were both 
closed).  Leaving further exploration until later, 
Mulder turned right.  Thankfully there was a couch to 
speak of and he carefully laid her down upon it.

"Feeling any better?" he asked, gently brushing an 
errant strand of hair away from her face.

"It's passing."

"I don't like this, Scully.  This isn't about a bad 
stomach caused by some hotdog anymore.  Maybe we should 
get you to the hospital...I mean, do you know what it 
is?  Have you suffered this before?  Could...Could it 
be..."  He couldn't bring himself to say the word.  "Is 
it the chip?"

Dana considered the symptoms she'd been having this past 
week and her eyes suddenly widened.  Surely not th--... 
There'd been a reason last time - it couldn't be that 
again...It just--

"Scully?"

"In Oregon...before you were abducted..."

His brow furrowed in confusion until realisation dawned.  
"You m--...Y-y-you mean when you were--?"

All she could do was slowly nod her reply.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

One step.  

Two step. 

Stop.

Blink.

Think.

Know.

It didn't matter that it was dark.  Didn't matter that 
they were hundreds of miles away.  All that mattered was 
that as Gibson Praise stood alone in the dark motel room 
his friends had stopped in barely over a week ago, a 
massive jolt of visions was shot into his brain.  He 
already knew he couldn't break the connection he held 
with the two agents, but this was definitely beyond 
annoying.  Every square inch of the room was occupied by 
their essence, and their fears...

*It's none of our business!*

*I was so scared that something had happened to you, 
Mulder, and now I feel as if the unanswered questions 
are just piling up on top of each other.*

*Scully, even if I'm struck down straight away, at least 
I'll have delayed them getting to you a tiny bit...*

*I miss him, Scully, and I've missed you so much.*

*Please...help me...*

There wasn't anything else he could learn, except...

He swept a glance around the small room once again.  
Something wasn't right.  Something wasn't--

"Gibson?  Gibson?"

The entrance slowly swung open with a creak, and Monica 
Reyes' head leaned in to look for the boy in the 
darkness.

"Gibson?"

Frowning, he looked around once more, trying to find the 
source of his unease, and then--  He sharply looked down 
at the floor.  There it was - right by his feet...

Immediately he backed up, but bumped into the FBI agent 
on his way.

"What is it?" she queried, resting a hand on his 
shoulder to make him turn around and staring down at him.

No words passed his lips, but the frightened expression 
was all Reyes needed to convince her they needed to get 
away ASAP.  So she quickly led Praise out and closed the 
motel room door behind them, before briskly moving back 
to the parked car on the roadside...

...Leaving the bee lying on its back in the room to give 
one final futile kick of its legs and then die.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You're sure?"

Jeff Spender listened to the voice at the other end of 
the phone line as a small, hopeful smile lifted his 
scarred cheeks and he wrote down a couple of notes on a 
scrap of paper.

The call he'd been anticipating earlier had finally come 
through, and it actually looked more promising than he'd 
believed it would be.  ...Of course, if Gibson was still 
here he knew he'd find a way of turning it around and 
saying there was no point getting excited over any 
leads.  But this *had* to be it - this just *had* to be 
the lead he'd been praying for in his search of the 
missing William...

"Where?...Thank you."

He hung up, wrote one more thing down on the paper, and 
then prepared to leave for Wyoming.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

St. PAUL, MINNESOTA

Stephen Lucke peeked through the net curtain covering 
his cabin's window and let out a sigh of disgust as he 
watched first the large rig pull away and then, three 
minutes later, the car the supposed FBI agents had 
turned up in left in the opposite direction.

They had the cheek to ask him why he'd waited so long to 
contact them?  What was he?  A messenger boy as well as 
motel owner?  'Pfft, yeah, whatever.'  He couldn't even 
believe he'd listened to those strangers that had so 
clearly been lying about something in the first place!  
For all he knew they could have been terrorists...Of 
course, why they would tell him to contact the FBI was 
baffling, but then, who was to say this new pair were 
really from the Bureau?

He turned away, grumbling something unintelligible to 
himself and then sat down in his comfy chair opposite 
the television set - its fuzzy picture the only 
illumination in the room.  It wasn't his place to 
question the eccentricities of others, and he certainly 
didn't have the time for it, so he just resigned himself 
to getting on with his own life - as lonely, insane and 
monochromic as it was.

He was just reaching for the TV remote when something 
flew past.  Several swats with the controller failed to 
scare the buzzing insect away; instead, it landed on 
Lucke's arm and proceeded to walk upwards.

"Hey, get out you damn thing!" came the motel owner's 
exclamation, but neither his voice, nor the numerous 
swipes of his hand made a difference.

And if those didn't deter the intruder from its goal, 
the man was certain to be helpless against the hundreds 
of bees entering the room via the air conditioning vent...
 
XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Carefully and quietly closing the back screen door after 
him, Mulder took several steps out onto the deck, then 
dug both hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and 
looked up at the canopy of stars above.  He'd laid down 
with his partner on the large bed he'd made sure would 
be there before their arrival in one of the upstairs 
bedrooms of the new home shortly after their brief 
discussion (both agreeing it would be better to rest 
before continuing their tour of the place) until he'd 
been sure she was soundly asleep.  He had hoped to do 
the same, but his mind - working in a million directions 
- had other ideas.

Could she really be pregnant again after what had 
happened to the last miracle they'd been gifted?  And, 
if yes, what did that mean to him?

*Of course* he wanted another child with Scully - 
anybody that said differently was a malicious, lying 
bastard in his book... But what about William?  And...
and, no matter how badly he wanted to, he couldn't even 
promise Scully a safe and secure future, so God only 
knew what he could offer their child!

*Oh, why don't you stop being so pessimistic!*

*Yeah, dude, do you like being miserable or something?*

Mulder lowered his face to see his three deceased 
friends down on the yard lawn - just on the edge of the 
deck light's beam.

*If the pretty lady was mine, I'd be trying for as many 
as possible!  Maybe a whole army of conspiracy 
warriors!* Frohike smirked - shrugging his shoulders 
when his two compadres shot a disgusted look at him.

"You know I want that more than anything - for me as 
much as for her," the ex-FBI agent whispered firmly, 
stepping down toward them.  "She still feels so guilty 
over Will...But, I--...I couldn't lose--...I couldn't 
let that happen to her again, and..."

*You think that there won't be a future,* Byers noted, 
shaking his head.  *That you'd lose another child.*

"I want this, and I want William back, and I want to be 
able to forget this past year ever happened, and I wanna 
forget the world is gonna come tumbling down around us 
in ten years, and I want..."  Mulder paused and took a 
deep breath as he considered his next words.  "I want 
everything for us, but if there's anything I've learnt 
in my life - especially in the last decade - it's that 
the tiniest of miracles don't come without a high price, 
and everything I want for her always gets whipped out 
from underneath.  All the blood, sweat, tears and 
prayers count for absolutely *nothing* in the end!"

*Oh, come on!  Look at this place, man - it's a 
fairytale palace!  It's the family home you've always 
imagined having with her!*

"The family home without a family.  We're still on the 
run, and the second something seems awry, we've got to 
leave here as fast as possible.  That isn't--...You know 
I've always believed she deserved more than me - more 
than the life working on the X-Files afforded her; she 
shouldn't have to live like this."  For a second, his 
eyes lifted again to look at the night sky.

*You knew what lay ahead the second you escaped from the 
base: you knew you wouldn't be able to go back, but that 
she would follow you wherever you went,* Byers solemnly 
sighed.  *You had the chance to escape off the continent 
- to not have to worry about leaving behind the 
fairytale palace - but instead you went looking for 
something you already knew...*

*We told you it was crazy,* Langly agreed.

*Whoa!* came the shortest member's exclamation.  *Have 
you all turned into a bunch of sourpusses?!  Jeez!  
Look, Mulder, Scully told you she wouldn't change a 
thing if she could do it all again - that includes all 
the heartache.  *She* thinks you're worth it, whether 
you do or not, and in the end that's the only opinion 
that should matter!*

Yeah, he'd known the dangers (even on a personal level, 
he'd accepted the lows along with the highs...and he'd 
been surprised her mood swings hadn't started a lot 
sooner), but his selfish need had branded the 
alternative as unacceptable.  There was something he 
feared a lot more than separation, though...

"What if she's not pregnant and..."  He swallowed hard 
and looked at each of them in turn.  "I don't know if we 
could get through another--...The chip in her neck...Do 
you know if that's what it is?"

The three ghosts glanced at each other and then shrugged.

*What do we look like?  The ghosts of past, present and 
future?* Frohike snorted.

*Whoooo-ooooo,* Langly teased, smiling.  *I am the 
hacker of life-on-the-run present, and I see you are 
being a complete jackass!*

Despite himself, Mulder felt a sad smile spread across 
his face.  He couldn't believe how much he'd missed them 
while away, and now they were dead... Their ghosts 
weren't enough - he wanted his best friends back, even 
if just to hug them all one last time.  "This isn't 
funny, guys," he croaked, trying unsuccessfully to hide 
the smile.  "I need your help."

*When don't you?* Byers chuckled - Langly and Frohike 
high-fiving - before they all sobered.  *We're here to 
help as much as we can, but we can't tell you what is 
laid out for you both - can't change it.*

Suddenly, Mulder panicked.  They knew what his future 
held?  "Please say she sta--...I mean, that she's okay," 
he pleaded, dropping to his knees.

*We can't tell you.  We wish we could,* the three said 
in unison.  *Hey, they say that if you observe a 
phenomenon you immediately change it - what do you 
think'd happen if we relayed the details to you before 
it's even occurred?  You need to be ready for whatever 
comes.*

The words shot straight to his brain, but then 
everything began to fade away, and then--

"Mulder?"

His eyes flung open and he turned to see his partner 
stepping through the rear exit of the house.  A brief 
glance back over his shoulder revealed - unsurprisingly 
- that the Gunmen were gone.

"Mul--"  Her sudden gasp regained his attention, and he 
quickly moved to her side (successfully jumping over the 
three steps that led up to the deck in one bound).

"What's wrong?"

He noted the shaking hands that were holding the sheet 
closed around her, and that her eyes were open, but she 
wouldn't look at him.  Instead, she was transfixed by...

...And then he realized what it was: the moonlit pacific 
ocean on the horizon.

Choosing to remain silent, he wrapped an arm around her 
shoulders and led her down, beyond the area lit by the 
porch light.  She still looked weak, but the beautiful 
sight had certainly brightened her aura a fraction, and 
that brought a genuine smile to his face.  As they 
reached the dirt track that led down to the beach below, 
he stopped and held her tighter against him.  She dared 
to turn to him for the briefest moment in question, but 
he just shook his head.  "In the morning, perhaps, if 
you're up to it," he simply sighed.

Dana nodded, but bit down on her lower lip before 
looking away again.

"He...How could He let this happen, Mulder?"  Her voice 
was so quiet, and his mind had been so deeply thinking 
back to the encounter with Frohike, Langly and Byers, 
that it didn't register she'd spoken until he felt one 
of her arms snake around his waist.

"What was that?"

"Look at it all!  I've asked *so* many times 'why us', 
with no answer, but why--...We can't lose, Mulder.  I 
know there's bad in the world, but it's so beautiful as 
well!"

"I know."

"They can't have it!"

"They won't."

Another moment of silence passed - both letting the 
slow, steady sound of the tide coming and going soothe 
them.  Neither letting go of the other.

"You know I'd fight with everything I had if it was 
something serious, don't you?" Scully whispered.  "That 
I wouldn't give up on life all the time I knew you were 
there to watch over me?"

Mulder bristled slightly at her words - eight years ago 
he would have been certain that this was her way of 
saying 'goodbye'.  "I wouldn't expect any less from 
you," he uneasily smiled, resting his cheek against the 
top of her head.  "But that's something you'll never 
have to worry about, seeing as I'm never leaving you 
again - that we'll always be together...right?"  He knew 
her a lot better than he had back then, and yet he 
couldn't avoid the level of uncertainty that had crept 
into his voice.

"But what if I was... What if I was pregnant, but didn't 
want to keep it?"

Ah.

"You don't want another child?" he enquired, cautiously.

"I want that whole basketball team we once joked about 
having, but..."

"Nobody could ever replace him."

"I know, but... I gave him away, and--"

"Because I wasn't there.  I told you, no matter what, 
I'm not letting you out of my sight, so you'd better get 
used to it!"  The levity didn't have the desired effect.

"--I don't...I can't bear the thought of ruining another 
life..."

That's when he sharply grasped both shoulders and turned 
her so her body completely faced him.  Her head remained 
lowered, though, so he moved one of his hands to gently 
raise her chin.  "*Don't say that*.  I mean, how can you 
say that?  If anybody *ever* deserved to be a mother, 
it's you."  This seemed like old, too well-trodden 
ground that they needed to get off of before they risked 
getting stuck in too deep a rut.  "Never anybody, but 
you."  His eyes bore into hers - his sincerity 
overwhelming - and both sets filled quickly with tears.

She nodded her understanding, but - much to his surprise 
and relief - did not try to either turn or move away.

"And you are a mother, to the most beautiful boy on the 
planet.  If you are pregnant, that'll only make things 
better and when we get him back, Will'll have a little 
playmate...but if you decided not to keep it, you know 
I'll be here no matter what your decision - I'll 
understand," he continued, gently rubbing the ball of 
his thumb back and forth over her chin.  "Besides, I 
think we're jumping to too many conclusions too early.  
We don't know for certain that it's not just a bug or an 
after-effect from the food poisoning - we're just coming 
up with theories based on past experiences, that are 
only making us hurt more.  Why don't we think it all 
through when we're rested an--"

"I can't lose you again."

"Why would you?"

"If I were to lose the b--"

"God, no!  No, no...Don't get stupid ideas like that in 
your head!  Jeez, you stuck with me for years, even 
though every second of the day should probably have been 
our last working together, you've left your family and 
life behind to be on the run with me...I'm so goddamned 
lucky and grateful to have you, and that's all I need to 
breathe.  Anything else is a bonus, but I can't do it 
without you."  

Her other hand reached up to cup his cheek and the sheet 
easily slipped from her shoulders to reveal the naked - 
save for a pair of panties - body underneath.  The 
moonlight highlighted and reflected off her skin, and if 
he hadn't been so worried about her health, he probably 
would have had her then and there, out in the open.

"I love you so much," she whispered, resting the side of 
her head against his chest and listening to his steady 
heartbeat.

He relaxed into her touch, but then stepped back for a 
second and rested the back of his right hand on her 
forehead.  "The fever's gone, so either that's a good 
sign or something else is making you say that," he 
teased, but before she could reply, he quickly pulled 
her tightly back against him.  "I've loved you for so 
long, Scully, I don't remember a time when I didn't."

"Me too.  I'm just so sorry I didn't say it much 
sooner," came her apology.  "All those years--...And 
maybe this'd never have happened if--"

"How can we know?  Even if we had taken that step 
sooner, there's no guarantees William would have been 
made...We just don't know, and there's no point going 
into 'what ifs', because in the end it only causes you 
unnecessary pain.  Believe me, been there, done that, 
and even probably got the t-shirt somewhere back in DC."

Letting the door finally close on the matter, Scully 
shifted in his snug embrace so that she could look back 
out at the rolling waves.  It wasn't long until she'd 
drifted off to sleep.

"It had better be good, guys," he whispered, kissing the 
crest of his partner's head and then carefully scooping 
her up into his arms as he looked up at the starlit sky.  
"If you observed it, you damn well better have changed 
it for the good."

It wasn't until he'd gently placed her back in the king-
sized bed and glanced at his watch that he realised why 
she'd been so adamant to press the subject...

One year ago today their miracle had been born, and they 
hadn't mentioned him at all until now - as if he'd never 
existed.

Mulder felt the knife strike its mark, and dropped to 
his knees beside where Scully lay.  His mouth opened and 
closed several times, working to find the words to say, 
but no sound came, so he just remained silent and 
watched her sleep.  Suddenly, though, two minutes later 
her eyelids unexpectedly slipped opened.

"What are you thinking?" her raw voice whispered as her 
damp eyes locked with his.

He continued to stare at her in silence for a moment 
longer.

*You're thinking you're a guilty man - you failed in 
every respect - and you deserve the harshest punishment 
for your crimes!* his mind jeered.

His head shook the voice away though, and as Mulder 
reached up to brush a strand of hair away from her face 
he whispered, "I'm thinking..."  The pause was 
unavoidable, and his palm rested against Dana's cheek as 
he searched the depths of his soul for the strength he'd 
been desperate to draw upon since the encounter back in 
St. Paul.  "I...I'm thinking, somewhere out there's a 
special little guy celebrating his first...eventful...
year in the world today, and I hope the folks looking 
after him are treating him like a prince, because I know 
that's what we'd do if we were all together - that and a 
*lot* more."  A sad smile lifted one corner of her mouth 
and he leaned in to place a kiss on it.  "And I'm 
thinking...that tomorrow is gonna be a new day for us.  
*Our* day.  A new day, a new home...a new us...a new 
start.  Our start, when we can decide if it'll be the 
day we begin the big kick back or not just because we 
feel like it; when we can choose to lay in all day just 
for the hell of it if we want to and not have to worry 
about where we're going next.  I won't lie: we will have 
to go on the road and get away from here a couple weeks 
at a time now and then to help kill the trail to here, 
but tomorrow will be ours - that I *can* give you."

One of the hands underneath her head slipped out to 
touch the one he still used to cup her cheek.

"And if you're still not better by tomorrow, we're gonna 
go seek out the local doc in the village and set any 
unnecessary theories to rest.  Okay?"

She gave a slow nod, and then her eyes closed once again.

Another kiss to her forehead, one more to her lips, and 
then he stood up and moved round the bed to lay down and 
spoon up behind her.  She immediately pressed her body 
back into him, and his arms embraced her - as if making 
sure she stayed there.

Silence.

"Scully, what are *you* thinking?"

She stiffened slightly at the words he whispered in her 
ear, but then relaxed and let out a deep sigh, snuggling 
against him even more (as impossible as that seemed).  
"I'm thinking about how lucky I am to have you back, 
after everything...that's happened..."  Yawn.  "I wonder 
how Mom and everybody back in DC are...I miss the life 
we used to live...but I'm...excited about starting out 
on...this new...path..."  It was obvious Sleep had no 
plans of keeping her out of its grasp for much longer, 
but she carried on, nevertheless.  "I've always...said...
I wanted to ge-et...out o' the car...and finally...you 
took the hint..."

"Huh?  What's that supposed to mean?" Mulder teased, 
tenderly skimming a hand down the side of her face, just 
as he had done in a motel in Oregon another lifetime ago.

"...Muller, you know tha'...when I said those things it 
was because...be..."  The yawns were too difficult to 
hide.  "...Oh...mm...because I wanted to live that life 
with you...I...I just wish..."

He held his breath, waiting for the end of her sentence.  
He painfully knew as well as her that there was a key 
thing missing from the equation in this 'normal life'...
and yet she surprised him when she finished,

"...I just wish...we could live it peacefully...without 
having to look over our shoulders all the time..."

The breath whooshed out of him against her neck, and she 
turned over so that they were now face-to-face.

"I know.  Me too."

Silence. 


XXXXXXXXXXXXX
TO BE CONTINUED...