Title:           Silent Lucidity (1 of ?)
Author:          Paige Caldwell
Email:           paigecaldwell@hotmail.com
Classification:  MSR, AU, Angst
Spoilers:        Season 8 and beyond
Rating:          NC-17 (in parts)
Summary:         What it is was all a dream?  What
                 if you wake to find that the man you
                 loved was never abducted and the child
                 you gave birth to never existed?  Or
                 did he?  



Part 1 of ? 


Hush now, don't you cry
Wipe away the teardrop from your eye
You're lying safe in bed
It was all a bad dream
Spinning in your head

Your mind tricked you to feel the pain
Of someone close to you leaving the game of life
So here it is, another chance
Wide awake you face the day
Your dream is over... or has it just begun?


Mulder found her unconscious beneath an oak tree, her crimson
hair faded to blend in with the brown leaves that covered her. 
Summer had given way to Winter, where the cool fall transition
was lost to his frantic search.  He spared no time or effort to
find her. By day, he roamed the desert highways, pursuing the
invisible ship's latest coordinates.  By night, he tracked the
stars, hoping that one would fall to earth and return her to him.
When he could no longer distinguish dawn from twilight, he closed
his eyes and awakened to the silent lucidity of his mind.
  
It was there that he found her, dreaming his dreams, waiting for
him where it all began.

Bellefleur, Oregon.

Beneath the leaves she was naked, her body contorted into a fetal
position.  Judging by her weak pulse, she had been there for hours,
if not longer, with only nature's decay to keep her warm.  Panicked,
he stripped off his coat and spread it out like a blanket.  He
pried her clawed fingers from the dirt and lifted her gently into
his arms.  He wasn't sure if she could hear him, but he spoke to
her anyway.

"I've got you, Scully," he said.  "You're safe... You're home."

She stirred as he wrapped her in his coat, her lashes fluttering
open to the sound of his voice.

"Mulder?" she whispered his name.

"I'm here," he responded, hovering over her as he dug his cell
phone out of his pocket. Tears of relief streamed down his face,
washing the grime from her cheeks.  She gazed up at him, dazed
and confused.

"Where's William?" she choked out.
  
"Hang on, Scully," Mulder said, stroking her coarse hair as he
punched 911 into his cell phone.  He gave the operator his FBI
credentials and requested immediate air assistance. Once he was
told that a med-evac helicopter was being dispatched to his
location, Mulder turned his attention back to his partner.

"Where is he?" Scully asked again.  She was disoriented, her pale
blue eyes darting from side to side as she tried to free herself
from the confines of his coat. Mulder pulled her against his chest,
hoping to warm her and still the frantic twisting of her limbs.

"Who, Scully?"

"William," she repeated the name between her dry, cracked lips.
"Our son, Mulder.  Where is he?"

"Our son?"  Mulder winced at her words.  He flashed back to their
last night together when he cradled her in arms and whispered his
regret.  If only he had known then that the price of his obsession
wasn't just her infertility, but Scully, herself.  So many months
ago.  So many missed opportunities to prevent the trauma that
caused her current confusion.
  
Her abduction.

"It's okay, Scully." He tried to downplay the truth by making it
surreal. "It was only a dream. It's over."

Her pupils retreated behind a vacant stare.
  
The dream was over, but the nightmare had just begun.


**********


Scully woke to the sound of Mulder's steady breathing and the feel
of his hair beneath her fingertips.  He was asleep in a chair, his
upper torso hunched over her hospital bed.  She remembered very
little of the past few days.  She knew that she had been admitted
for exposure and dehydration, although she suspected that the
doctors were monitoring her for other reasons.  As was Mulder. 
He had refused to leave her side from the moment he found her.

She stroked his unruly hair, knowing that even in sleep she had
reached out to comfort him.  Perhaps in her dreams she had imagined
his fear and exhaustion.  At least that's what she wanted to think,
that illusion somehow found it's basis in reality. How else could
she explain all these months of dreaming a life that never happened?
Mulder wasn't the one mysteriously taken from Bellefleur, Oregon.
She was. That fateful step into the energy field had been her last.
  
She had been abducted.

"Abducted", Scully whispered to herself.  Strange, learning the
truth was far worse than living the lie.  She had no memory of her
abduction, no scars or physical signs that she had been abused.
The only trauma she suffered was to her psyche. The past eight
months never existed.

Never existed...

She should be grateful.  Mulder was alive and well.  He didn't
suffer the imagined torture or die and rise again.  There was no
Doggett to resent or ultimately appreciate.  No Reyes, no bizarre
whale calls, no pregnancy to protect... 

No baby to love...

William....

Scully closed her eyes, picturing his tiny face.  She could still
feel him, the softness of his cheek and the downy fuzz that covered
his small head.  She could hear his cries and feel the let-down
of her breast milk. It was so easy to add sound and sensation to
the dream, for in her mind, William was real.  As real as the pain
she felt giving birth to him.  As real as the joy on Mulder's face
when she surrender their son to his willing arms.
  
The dream was over, but she couldn't stop herself from replaying
its final moments.  It was a scene of great happiness, where all
her doubts faded to black and her mind's eye panned back to a
loving kiss.  If only she could do more than repeat it. If only
she could go back and continue to live it.

"Scully..."  

The sound of his voice broke her fantasy.  She opened her eyes
to find Mulder awake, his hazel eyes alert and suspicious.
  
"You want to go back?" he asked.

Scully pulled the bed sheet to her chin, hoping to draw a curtain
over her shuddering pain. Judging by the panic on his face, she
had spoken her thoughts aloud.  Before he considered her deranged,
she searched her mind for an excuse. "Back to D.C.," she lied,
steadying her voice so there was no hint of a sob. "I want to go
home, Mulder."

Mulder paused, giving her a doubtful look before running a hand
through his hair. "Soon," he promised, sounding agitated.  "First,
the doctors need to run a couple more tests."

"Like what?" she asked.  She, too, was capable of suspicion. "I
want to see my chart, Mulder."

"Wouldn't you rather see your mother?" he deflected, glancing at
his watch. "She should be here any minute."

"You found her?" Scully struggled to sit up.  "Where was she?"

"About half way to California in her U-Haul," Mulder said. 
"Remember, I told you that she sold her house."

"Yes, I remember," she responded in a tiny voice.  It made sense
that her mother would pull up the family stakes and move to San
Diego.  Bill and Tara were there, as well as a grandson to adore.
It hurt.  Hurt that her family presumed her dead.  Hurt even more
that she had returned with only an imaginary child to console her
mother.

"Are you okay, Scully?"

"I'm fine, Mulder."  She delivered her line like rehearsed dialogue.
The last thing she needed was for Mulder to get inside her head and
realize that she was mourning a fabricated loss.  She would have to
be careful.  He wasn't just a profiler.  He was part of her soul.
She would have silence the scream before he heard it.

*********


"How is she?" Skinner asked him later that afternoon.

"She's visiting with her mother," Mulder informed him, leaning over
a water fountain.  Instead of drinking, he cupped the water in the
palm of his hand and splashed it across his face.  For now, it would
have to substitute for a shower.

"You look like shit, Mulder."  As always, Skinner came right to the
point. "Why don't you take a break and go back to the hotel?"

"Because the shit's about to hit the fan," he remarked, drying his
face on his sleeve. "Earlier, Scully asked to see her hospital chart."

"Is that a problem?" his boss asked.

"Yeah," he sighed, slouching against the wall of the hospital
corridor. "I'm just surprised that she hasn't already figured
it out."

"Figured out what?"

"You haven't seen her yet, have you?"

"No," Skinner admitted. "I've been too busy tracking down Mrs.
Scully."

Mulder nodded, hoping his eyes conveyed his thanks. "You know,
when I first found her I didn't even notice."

"Noticed what?" Skinner stared at him hard, his eyes like bits
of black agate.  

"The added weight, her swollen breasts..."

"What the hell are you implying, Mulder?"

Mulder drew his breath and told him. "According to the doctors,
Scully gave birth several weeks ago."

"What?" Skinner barked. "How can that be?"

"I'm not sure," he commented, rubbing his temples. He was tired
and the possibilities were playing tricks with his mind.  "The
aliens may have impregnated her with human/alien DNA to see if
they could harvest their own genetic hybrid, or..."

"Or?"  Skinner instantly picked up on the hesitancy in his 
voice.

"They abducted her because they knew she was already pregnant."
he relayed.  "Before she or I did..."

**********


Their son wasn't a figment of her imagination.  

He was real.  

William was real.

The scream escaped from her lips before she could stop it. She
yanked the IV line from her hand and swung her legs to the side
of the bed.  "Get the nurse," Mulder told her mother urgently.
"She needs a sedative."

Sedative.  He wanted to stop her, force her to sleep now that
the dream was a reality.  Enraged, she began to fight him, clawing
and kicking her way to an imagined freedom.  Mulder pinned her
back against the hospital bed, using his weight to imprison her.
  
"Let me go," she shrieked. The blood on her fingers smeared the 
determined lines on his face.

"It's okay, Scully," he said, gritting his teeth. "I'll find him.
I promise you I won't stop until I find your son."

"He's your son, too," she cried, struggling against him. "You'll
deny it until you see him, but in the end, you'll acknowledge
him as your own."

His eyes inches from hers, Mulder blinked.  He looked startled
by her accusation. For a minute, she thought he would release her.
But he didn't. Instead, he forced her arm to the side so that the
nurse could administer the injection.

"What you fear are the possibilities..." she whispered, her voice
dropping with the beat of her heart.  "The truth we both know."

As her eyes closed, she felt drops of moisture fall on her face. 
She wondered if it was her blood... or his tears.

Part 2 of ? 

Mulder sat in the shadows of the hospital room, waiting for
Scully to drift back to consciousness.  It was late and they
were alone.  The night nurse had just checked her vitals and
added another strip of medical tape to secure her IV line. She
reassured him that the sedative would have no lasting effects,
that Scully would awaken feeling sluggish, but calmer.  He
didn't bother to contradict her prognosis. The same instincts
that had led him to Scully also told him to stay close by her
side.  He sensed her unrest, even in sleep. She was dreaming.
He wondered where it would take her, where it would take them
both.

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine her dream, but doubt
obscured his vision and hurt tinged his thoughts.  She had
shown him a masterpiece, a family portrait, and then accused
him of not being an art lover.  He would never deny his own
child, but he had to remember that the aliens were capable of
forgeries.  Just as they were capable of weaving a tapestry
of lies to keep Scully a captive audience.
  
Mulder knew one thing for certain.  Scully was traumatized,
not by the dream of her past but her current reality.  He
would have to watch over her closely.  Get inside her head.
Profile her every move.  He had lost her before due to his
carelessness.  He wouldn't repeat the same mistake.  If she
was determined to relive the dream, he was going to be there
to guide her. He would make damn certain that no harm came
to her, either physically or emotionally.
  
But first, she needed to return to stable ground.  That meant
an uncompromising attitude, a hard rather than gentle hand.
For now, he would have to play skeptic to her believer. She
might resent him.  She might even hate him.  But a temporary
estrangement was a small price to pay for saving her mind.

"Help me...."

Mulder could hear the whisper even before it formed on her
lips.  He leaned forward in his chair and reached for her
hand. "I'm here, Scully."

She tossed her head against the pillow, murmuring over and
over. "Help me find him...."

"I'll find him," he repeated his earlier promise. "But I have
to find you first."

Scully whimpered was sounded like a protest.  Her eyes moved
rapidly beneath closed lids, tears squeezing out of each
corner.  He caught one on his fingertip and studied it in
the darkness.  For a minute it looked like blood.  But then
he adjusted his sight so he couldn't visualize her pain.  It
was a tear.  It may cause him to bleed inside, but he couldn't
afford to show it.

"I know you're scared," he said, willing her to listen. "Just
as I know that you can hear me.  Scully, when you wake up
tomorrow, I want you to face the day.  You need to see past
the dream if you're ever going to understand it."

"I can't," she mumbled, trying to pull away.

"You have to," he insisted, tightening his grip. "I'm going
to need your help to find him, Scully.  If the illusion is
based in reality, I need your help to distinguish the two."

Mulder waited for her to respond. When she didn't, he placed
her hand back on the bed and watched her shallow breathing.
She had fallen back to sleep and to the solace of her dreams.

He waited a few minutes before pulling out his cell phone.
Dialing Skinner's number, he sat back in his chair. "Find
anything, sir?" he asked.

"Nothing," Skinner answered. "The search team combed the
entire area, Mulder.  No signs of life.  In fact, nothing
to indicate that Scully's baby was returned with her.  And
I can't say that I'm sorry.  The last thing I want to find
is an infant dead from exposure."

"Me either," he agreed. "But we have to consider all the
possibilities."

"Does that include the possibility that you may never find
him?"

Mulder rubbed the delicate tear between his fingers. "No
sir," he said firmly. "That is the one possibility I refuse
to consider."


**********


"I wish you'd change your mind," her mother pleaded. Scully sat
on the edge of her bed, trying to button a blouse that was one
size too small.  Her breasts, swollen and tender, prevented a
comfortable fit.  Sighing, she reached for a sweater.

"Let me help you, honey," her mother offered.

"I don't need any help getting dressed," she retorted. "I need
your help to find my son."

"Dana, we've been over that," her mother replied. "Fox told you
that the FBI searched the entire area.  They found nothing."

Scully avoided her mother's hurt look by jerking the sweater
over her head. "Then we need to look again," she insisted.

"No, we need to look after you.  Give you time to recover from
your loss." 

"The only thing I've lost is time," she cried, her voice
sounding as frayed as the wool around her neck. "William is
out there, Mom.  But I'm not going to find him lounging by a
pool in San Diego."

"Will you find him by going back to D.C.?" Margaret Scully
countered. 

"Mulder said we have to consider all the possibilities," she
said stubbornly. "I'm in a better position to do that by going
back to work."

Her mother sighed and dropped her purse on the hospital bed.
"Your hair is a mess," she commented, opening it. "If you won't
take me up on my offer, will you at least borrow my brush?"

Scully tensed inwardly, not at her mother's criticism but
because she spotted something in her purse. Car keys.  The idea
took shape inside her mind as her voice smoothed out the edges
of deceit. "I don't suppose you have any chap stick," she remarked,
fingering her dry lips.
  
"I might." Turning over the purse, her mother dumped its contents
on her bed.  Scully leaned over to look, pretending interest as
her hand covered the car keys. "You know, Mom, maybe you're right.
A couple of weeks with family might be exactly what I need."

"Are you serious?" her mother asked hopefully.

Scully nodded. "The only problem is Mulder. I don't want to
disappoint him, considering everything he's done."

In a way, she was telling the truth.  Mulder was the problem.
He certainly had done everything in his power to block her every
move. She didn't want to disappoint him.  She wanted to ditch
him.

"I could talk to him," her mother suggested.
  
"Would you?" she asked, dropping her gaze in an effort to look
ashamed rather than guilty. "He's downstairs in the coffee shop."

"Of course." Margaret patted her shoulder approvingly. "I'll be
right back."

"I'm sorry," Scully whispered as her mother left her room. She
counted the seconds instead of her sins.  She would repent
later.  Slipping on her boots, she headed towards the door.
The nurses didn't even notice her. They were busy with their
morning rounds and she was dressed in street clothes.  Besides,
she was scheduled to be discharged anyway.  So what if she left
a little early and by the stairs of the fire escape?
  
She just hoped that she wasn't too late to change this miserable
reality.


***********


"I left her right here," Margaret Scully insisted when Mulder
returned from interrogating the nurses. "It was only a few
minutes, Fox.  How could she have just disappeared?"

His eyes swept the hospital room before they landed on the bed.
The contents of Mrs. Scully's purse were scattered across the
sheets.  He did a quick inventory then asked. "Where are you car
keys?"

The woman patted her pockets, flustered to find them empty. "I
thought I took them with me.  Oh my God, how could I've been so
careless?"

"Don't blame yourself," he responded, placing a comforting
hand on her arm. "I should have warned you that she's still
traumatized."

"I'm her mother," Margaret lamented. "I should have known better."

Mulder resisted the urge to commiserate. He should have known
better than to go downstairs and infuse himself with caffeine
while Scully was percolating an escape plan.  She had duped them
both.  "It's okay, Mrs. Scully. I know where she's going."

"Back to the forest?"

He nodded, turning to leave before she saw the panic in his
eyes.  He knew what Scully was looking for.  She didn't intend
to search the area for her missing son.  She was looking for a
way back, an energy field to transport her into a preferred
existence.  It no longer mattered who created it, Scully or
her alien abductors.  All he knew was that he had to stop her.

Mulder left the hospital and hurried to his car.  The sound of
tires screeching against the slick parking lot didn't prompt him
to slow down. He sped up the ramp to the highway.  It was starting
to snow. Pellets of ice mixed in with the flakes, alerting him to
the unpredictability of the weather.  And, his partner. Within a
few hours, he could find himself stranded on the side of a road
while Scully was hitchhiking her way back to the stars.

He followed the mile markers, counting down each one until he
saw a car in the distance.  It was parked along the shoulder. He
added his own pair of skid marks and stopped along side of it.
Reaching for his coat, he opened his car door and stepped out
onto the pavement.  Beneath his feet was a faded orange "X".

"Deja vu all over again," he commented to himself, glancing up
at the sky. Clouds were gathering overhead with the same terrible
icy, inhuman speed of a cloaked spaceship. Cupping his hands
around his mouth, he yelled her name.
  
"Scully...."

His voice carried on the wind, echoing through the trees.  He
didn't wait for a response.  Instead, he ran through the woods,
following her tracks before the snow covered them. He found the
first of several yellow tapes which bordered the FBI's search
location. It led him back to the oak tree where she was kneeling
on the grave of her disintegrated dreams. Gusts of cold air
swirled the leaves around her, sprinkling frost on her auburn
hair.

Mulder approached her cautiously, not wanting to frighten her.
When he stepped on a branch, she startled and jumped to her
feet. "Mulder, what are you doing here?"

"I was just about to ask you the same thing," he said.
  
She lifted her eyes to the sky. "I was praying."

"For what?" he asked cynically. "For God to deliver your son
or for the aliens to take you back?"

Her gaze leveled to his. "Does it matter?"

"Hell yes, it matters," he replied. "I'm not going to lose you
again, Scully."

When she backed away from him, Mulder reached inside his coat
pocket for a pair of handcuffs.  Before she could run, he grabbed
her hand and clamped one cuff around her wrist.

"What do you think you're doing?" she yelled.

"Something you made necessary," he stated. He took off his coat
and draped it around her shoulders.  She averted her eyes,
refusing to acknowledge his concern.  He snapped his own cuff
in place and gave her a small tug. "Let's go."

She said nothing, trudging along side of him like a prisoner of
war.  Her eyes were focused straight ahead.  Her steps did not
falter.  But by the time they reached the road, her stoic facade
crumbled.  She glanced over her shoulder, tears melting the
flurries on her cheeks. "Mulder," she whispered his name. "I
can't leave here without William."

He pulled her against him while he opened the car door. For a
brief moment he allowed himself the luxury of comforting her.
He tightened his embrace and lowered his lips to her forehead.
When she lifted her chin and he saw the tearful plea in her eyes,
he took a step back. 

In a firm voice he said, "Get in."


***********


"We're not going to stay here," she protested when Mulder 
stopped the car.  They were in front of the same motel where
it all began.

"Given the amount of snow on the road, I don't think we have
a choice," he replied, turning off the radio.  Winter weather
alerts had been broadcasted for the area. Due to high winds,
the airport had cancelled all flights. "I'll check us in first,
then stop at the country store to pick up coffee and something
to eat."

"So what are you going to do, Mulder?" she asked. "Cuff me to
the steering wheel?"

He flashed her an indignant look.  "I'm taking you with me."

"You're going to parade me around like a convicted felon?"

"Of course not," he replied, reaching across her legs to the
glove compartment. Opening it, he produced the key to the
handcuffs. "I'm not trying to humiliate you, Scully."

She pulled her knees back. "Then what are you trying to do?"

"Protect you," he said, unlocking both cuffs.

"From what?" She rubbed her wrist. "Myself?"

Mulder didn't answer her. Instead, he got of the car and escorted
her inside the small office of the motel.  She couldn't believe
that he would bring her back to this place, even if it was the
only roadside motel near Bellefleur.  Disbelief faded to anger
when he requested only one room.  Suffering the indignity of 
being handcuffed was one thing. Sharing the same room was another.

"I don't deserve to be treated like this," she protested once
they were outside.

"Your mother didn't deserve to be treated like a fool."  His
response was curt and his decision was non-negotiable. Biting
her lip, she followed him into the store where they picked up
sandwiches and coffee.  When she asked for a tube of chap stick,
he gave her a quick look before nodding at the man behind the
counter.

"Throw in a bottle of hand lotion," Mulder added, pulling out
his wallet.

"It's not necessary," she asserted.

"The metal chafed your skin," he noted, passing her the cups of
coffee. 

Once inside their room, Scully called her mother and apologized.
The relief in her mother's voice reduced her to tears. Turning
her back to Mulder, she hung up the phone. "I need to use the
bathroom," she mumbled. "I promise not to crawl out the window."

Closing the door behind her, Scully turned on the faucet of the
sink.  She buried her face in her hands and began to sob, hoping
that the full blast of water would drown out the sound of her
agony. She had lost so much, her son, the trust of her mother and
her partner's respect. She dared not consider Mulder as her lover.
For all she knew, those few nights of passion may have never
existed.  

What if the dream started long before her abduction? What if she
created false memories in an effort to still the yearnings of her
soul?

The possibility made her gasp and look up to the mirror. That's
when she saw him standing behind her.  Mulder.  Was it his
reflection or a window, where two worlds collided behind the
looking glass of her mind?  She reached out to touch the face
in the mirror.  If only she could move through it and return
to him.

Suddenly, she was spun around where her fingers grazed the stubble
on his cheek. "Were we ever lovers?" she cried desperately. "Did
I imagine that too?"

"Does this feel like a dream?" he asked, lowering his lips to
hers. He kissed her deeply, with enough tenderness to allay her
fears and enough passion to give her hope. She couldn't have
imagined detail like this, the feel of his mouth against hers...
the rush of emotions... the fire in her veins.... It was real.
He was real.

Mulder broke the kiss and tilted her chin higher, forcing her
to look into his eyes. "What you fear are the possibilities,"
he reminded her. "The truth we both know."


To be continued....

Part 3 of ? 


They sat at the table, sipping coffee and watching the snow
fall.  Mulder noticed that Scully had only taken a few bites
of her sandwich before pushing it away.  He didn't encourage
her to eat but reached over with his napkin to wipe the smear
of mayonnaise from the corner of her mouth.

"Thanks," she mumbled, looking distracted and somewhat
melancholy. Her blue eyes still held a hint of tears and
her lips trembled when she spoke.

Mulder didn't regret the kiss, just the questions which had
prompted it. How could she doubt his feelings for her?  He
knew she was in emotional turmoil, but never expected a dream
to erase their history together.  They were more than just
lovers. They were soul mates.  Nothing, not even a universe
apart, would change the bond between them.

He tried to justify her need to return to an imaginary existence.
Her son was there. But so apparently was he. There was a small
part of him that wondered why the illusionary man was more
appealing than the real one.

"Tell me about him," he said suddenly, his words overlapping
his thoughts. 

Scully sighed, turning her head towards the window. "He was
so... perfect."

"What about his father?" he clarified.  "Was he perfect too?"

She closed her eyes and exhaled what sounded like a scoff.
"You're more curious about your alter ego than your son?"

"I'm sorry, Scully."  Mulder said, punching his thigh under
the table.  His remarks were callous, not out of disregard for
her feelings but in response to his own insecurities. He would
have to profile her less and himself more.  Lowering his voice,
he added, "I know how much you miss him."

"Oh Mulder," she said tiredly. "You have no idea how much I
missed you in that other world. You weren't there during most
of it."

He imagined the worst, where his alter ego obsessed over the
X-files instead of his pregnant partner.  "The Mulder of your
dreams sounds like a jerk," he observed.

"He wasn't a jerk," Scully defended, passing a hand over her
eyes. "I mean you weren't a jerk."
  
He leaned forward as her voice dropped to an agonized whisper,

"Mulder, in my dreams you were the one who was abducted."

For a minute, Mulder said nothing.  He sat back in his chair
and studied her downcast eyes and the shadows beneath them.
He wasn't shocked by the reversal of roles.  It actually made
sense. "Interesting," he murmured.

"Interesting?" Scully looked up and said, "That's not the term
I would use to describe what happened to you.  It was horrible,
Mulder.  A living nightmare."

"A living nightmare," Mulder emphasized. "Maybe that's what
made the dream so real, Scully. You would have questioned a
perfect utopia."

"It was far from that," she admitted. "But it had its moments."

"Can you describe them?" he prompted again. 

Scully shook her head. "Not without wanting to go back."

"Fair enough." Mulder decided to end the subject. He dared not
push her further, not when she was teetering on the end of an
emotional abyss.  "You look tired, Scully.  Why don't you try
to get some sleep?"

She eyed the bed hesitantly. "Because there's still a part of
me that doesn't want to wake up."

Mulder nodded as he took a final sip of coffee.  Admitting her
fear was progress.  It was the first step towards a stronger
foothold on reality.  With time, he hoped that she would be able
to visualize her memories as an observer rather than a participant.
He got up from the chair and held out his hand. "C'mon, I'll lie
down with you."

He guided her to the edge of the bed and crouched down to take
off her boots.  In her urgency to flee the hospital, she had
forgotten to put on socks.  Her small feet felt like ice in 
his hands.  He rubbed them vigorously.  "That tickles," she
complained, curling her toes away from his fingers.

"That's good," he teased gently, relieved that there was no
numbness or frostbite. "Let's get you under these covers and
warm you up."

Scully rolled over on her side and grabbed a pillow. As he
spooned his body around hers, she murmured, "Deja vu all over
again."

"But when you wake in the morning, we go back to D.C.," he
said, draping a protective arm around her waist.

"Don't let go, Mulder," she whispered.

"I won't," he promised.


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


Scully was in a distant place in which there was no sound
other than a rhythmic heartbeat. It was faint, at first. She
drifted towards the noise and saw a figure struggling in a
viscous greenish-yellow fluid.  Her own heartbeat echoed in
response. Finally it split open her chest with a painful truth.
The image wasn't Mulder.  It was her.  She was suffocating,
gasping as an organic cord was being forced down her throat.

It wasn't a dream.  

It was real...

Scully woke, clasping a hand over her mouth to silence her
scream. Mulder was sleeping beside, so exhausted that he had
rolled onto his back. "You promised not to let go," she whispered
accusingly.  

He murmured something in return, unconscious words of comfort
that were lost in her own panic. She wiped the sweat from her
forehead and got out of bed.  The cool, damp air of the motel
room made her shiver.  Grabbing his coat, she used it as a blanket
as she huddled in the chair by the window.
  
It was still snowing, but the flakes were large and fluffy,
signaling the storm was almost over.  She watched the snow
fall for an indeterminable amount of time, hoping that the
gentle, swaying rhythm would slow the beat of her heart. But
inside she shook with fear. Mulder was right.  She had created
false memories to alter the truth. The question was how many?
Did her false memories include William?

No, she decided, gritting her teeth. She wouldn't allow this
to happen.  For the sake of her son, not to mention her sanity,
she would not look any further.  The dream was over.  She would
preserve those few precious glimpses of William and lock the rest
away. She would not open her mind to Mulder or anyone else.

Like Mulder said, they had to consider all possibilities. Maybe
the truth of William's whereabouts were in the X-files. That's
where it all began.  She would go back to D.C. in the morning.
She would work out her body and strengthen her mind. Her recovery
would be swift.  Within a few weeks, she would be ready to start
the investigation of a life time.

"Scully..."

She glanced back at the bed where Mulder tossed in his dreams,
fitful and agitated. Resisting the urge to console him, she said
in a clear, determined voice. "I'm fine, Mulder. Go back to sleep."

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

"Home sweet home," Mulder announced, unlocking the door to her
apartment. "I had better warn you, Scully. I made a couple of
changes."

"Like what?" He opened the door and waited for her to spot his
fish tank in the corner and his computer on her desk. "Like
moving in?" she gasped.

"It made sense at the time," he replied. "To your landlord, who
wanted the rent paid and to my bank account, which was in serious
danger of being overdrawn."

"You didn't have to do that, Mulder," she said.  Her tone was 
reproachful, but the touch on his arm was as soft as a caress.
"It was only an apartment."

"It was more than just letting go of an apartment," Mulder
told her.  

How could he make her understand? There were so many nights
when he couldn't sleep, either on his couch or in his own bed.
Exhausted, he tried to regain his stamina by surrounding himself
with her things.  A pillow case scented with her perfume. A cup
which held the memory of her taste. They were more than just
articles of comfort.  They were tangible proofs that she still
existed.
  
He watched her walk into the living room.  Trying to joke his
way out of an obvious intrusion he said. "Besides, you would
have done the same for me."

Scully froze, her voice sounding like shattered pieces of
glass.  "I should have done more..."

"What do you mean?" he asked, closing the door.

"Nothing..." She leaned over the fish tank. "You're still
missing a molly."

"Yeah. She wasn't as lucky as you," Mulder relayed.

"Oh God," she gasped, covering her face with both of her hands.
"I can't do this..."

"Do what?" he asked.  Alarmed, he dropped her overnight bag and
hurried to her side. "Live together? It's okay, Scully. I'll look
for another apartment tomorrow."

"It's not that," she said, dropping her hands and regaining her
composure. "Right now, I just, uh... I'm having a little trouble...
processing... everything."

He focused on her choice of words. For a minute, he sensed an
opposite meaning, a reversal of thought and expression. It seemed
like her dialogue belonged to him, that he was responding to lines
that were once his own.  Or was he imagining it?  Was it just an
awkward moment between two lovers struggling with the boundaries
of their past?  

Before her abduction, he was an occasional roommate, more out of
fear than practical considerations. What a mistake that had been.
To deprive himself of her, even for one minute, when he came so
close to losing her for good. 

Mulder fought the urge to take her into his arms and hold on for
dear life.  But he kept his voice safely neutral as he addressed
her. "You're right, Scully. It's a lot to process.  Why don't you
call it a night and get some rest?"

Again, she hesitated. "What about you?"

He gestured towards his computer. "I have some work to do first,
some emails to catch up on."

Scully nodded, picking up the overnight bag. "Mulder, I may
be confused about many things, but not this... not our new
living arrangement. It doesn't feel awkward.  It feels right."  

"I hope you feel the same way in the morning."  he joked. 
"Especially when you realize what a slob I am."

"How could I forget that?"  She gave him a tiny smirk before
disappearing into her bedroom.
    
Grinning to himself, Mulder sat down at her desk and turned
on his computer.  He spent the next hour sifting through a
backlog of email, including messages from the agent who had
been managing the X-files during his frequent absences. He
felt a twinge of regret.  His so-called "partner" deserved
more than an occasional reply or cyber pat on the back. He
should at least pick up the phone, or better yet, go into
the Bureau and make sure his nameplate was still on his desk.

He rubbed his eyes and yawned. To hell with it, he thought,
turning off the monitor.  He was tired and the only partner
who held his interest was sound asleep in the next room. All
he wanted right now was to join her. The rest of the world
could wait.

In the doorway to her bedroom, Mulder paused and smiled to
himself. Scully was lying safe in her bed with one of his blue
dress shirts nestled beneath her cheek.


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

"Dana, push."

She stared at Billy Miles, the Game Warden and the other
Replicants.

"It's mine," she screamed, her voice defiant. Her cries went
unnoticed. They were waiting for another cry, the one that would
signal the birth of her baby.  She tried to keep her child in
the safety of her womb, away from their probing stares and inhuman
grasps. But the urge to push was too strong.  She couldn't stop
bearing down.  Whimpering, she glanced at the dark eyes in front
of her. "Please don't let them take it."

"Push Dana. Push!"

Scully screamed and pushed, not with her pelvic muscles but with
her hands. They landed on a pair of broad shoulders instead of a
woman's slender frame.
  
"Scully, wake up!"

She opened her eyes to find Mulder hovering over her, dripping
sweat on her face. "Another dream?" he asked, his hazel eyes
sharp and accusing.

Scully was used to the nightmares. She had them every night. But
adjusting to Mulder's penetrating gaze was becoming more difficult.
She avoided his question by posing another. "You went jogging
without me this morning?"

"I have to go into the Bureau today," Mulder said, sitting down on
the edge of her bed. He offered no details, just a stony profile as
he kicked off his running shoes.
  
"Why today?" she asked. "You haven't gone in weeks."

"I've run out of excuses," he responded in a gruff voice. "Not to
mention vacation time."

"And patience," she added, smoothing the covers around her trembling
legs.  She couldn't blame him.  A month had passed since her return.
While she had recovered physically, her emotional state was far from
improved. She was restless and often bad tempered. At first, Mulder
backed off. He didn't press her for details and tried to help her
regain her strength. He cooked for her.  He cleaned for her.  He
even went shopping to stock up on her favorite bath gels. Once she
was capable of exercise, he took her on morning jogs to clear her
head and work off her nervous energy. But when she refused to
discuss her dreams, he became increasingly distant.
  
"I want you to reconsider seeing a psychologist," Mulder said as
he stripped off his shirt.

"No." Her response was too abrupt. She reached out to stroke his
back. "I don't need to see a psychologist, Mulder. I'm living
with one."

She felt his muscles tense beneath her fingertips. "I can't help
you, Scully," he replied. "Not if you won't talk to me."

"If I'm not able to talk to you, then I certainly can't talk
to anyone else," she deflected.  She knew it was a poor excuse.
So did he.  

Getting up from the bed, Mulder walked over to the closet. She
watched him pull a dress shirt from the hanger and wave it in
front of her face.

"This is what I wear to work," he announced. "You may prefer to
spend your nights with your face buried in my laundry, but 
shirts occasionally need to be dry cleaned."

She refused to acknowledge his anger or her own dysfunction.
"I'll take them this morning." she offered.

"You just don't get it." Mulder stormed over to the dresser and
pulled out a pair of clean socks and underwear. "I don't want
you to run my errands.  I want my partner back."

"What about your lover?" she asked in a tentative voice. "You
know, Mulder, the doctor said I'm fine to resume...."

The slam of the drawer cut off the last of her sentence.
  
"You'll open your legs to me, but not your mind." he charged.
"Sorry, but I'm not type to take advantage of one without the 
other."

He left her quivering on the bed, both stunned and humiliated.
Only when she heard the shower being turned on in the bathroom
did she react to his stinging words.  Lifting up her pillow, she
dug out one of his shirts. She resisted the urge to throw it on
the floor. Instead, she pressed it against her face hoping that
the fabric would absorb the heated embarrassment on her cheeks.

Minutes later, he returned to the bedroom wearing a towel around
his waist and trailing water across the floor. "Scully, I'm sorry.
I shouldn't have said that."

The shower had obviously cooled his temper, but not hers.
  
"You want your partner back?"  She threw the shirt at him. "Well,
I want our son back."

"How do you expect me to find him when you refuse to look inside
yourself?"

She eyed his wet hair and lean body, pretending indifference.
In a terse voice, she answered him. "By going back to work, Mulder.
Today, I'm filing my reinstatement papers."


To be continued....


There's a place I like to hide
A doorway that I run through in the night
Relax child, you were there
But only didn't realize it and you were scared
It's a place where you will learn
To face your fears, retrace the years
And ride the whims of your mind
Commanding in another world
Suddenly you hear and see
This magic new dimension



Part 4 of ?



"You want to put me behind a desk?" Scully asked in a tremulous
voice.

Mulder gave Skinner a quick nod, which did not go unnoticed by
the woman seated beside him.  She glanced at him suspiciously
and said, "Was this your idea, Mulder?"

Skinner cleared his throat, signaling Mulder to lean over and
whisper in her ear.  "Consider it the professional opinion as
your live-in psychologist."

"You're punishing me for not doing things your way," she accused
through gritted teeth.

"I'm trying to help you," he insisted.  "We both are."

Scully ignored his remarks, turning her attention to the
Assistant Director. "Sir, this is totally unnecessary.  Agent
Mulder is allowing his personal feelings to influence what
should be an objective opinion."

"Then get me another," Skinner suggested. "Make an appointment
to see the Bureau's psychologist.  Until you do, consider field
work off limits."

"What about the X-files?" she protested.

"Agent Mulder will continue working the X-files with his current
partner," he stated.

"A partner?" Scully rose from her chair. "You had a partner all
these months and didn't tell me?"

Mulder avoided her eyes, not wanting to witness her pain. She
was hurt.  Perhaps rightfully so.  Had it been him, he would
have resented a new partner, especially one of the opposite sex.
Disguising the tension in his voice, he said  "You'll like her,
Scully.  She'll remind you of..."

A knock at the door interrupted him. He turned to find the agent
in the doorway, flashing a white, friendly smile. "Excuse me, sir.
I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself to Agent Scully."

Skinner gestured her inside. "Come in, Agent Reyes.  We were just
discussing you."

"I hope in a positive note," the agent said, crossing the room
to shake Scully's hand.
  
She never got the chance.  

Scully had fainted and was lying on the floor.

"Christ," Mulder swore aloud, falling to his knees beside
her. "What just happened?"

Skinner hurried around from the back of his desk. "I'm not
sure, Mulder.  For a minute, she looked like she had seen a
ghost."

"Should I get some water?"  Reyes offered, backing away.

"Yeah, thanks," Mulder said.  He gathered Scully into his arms
and supported her against his bent leg.  She was groggy, her
voice sluggish and confused.
  
"This can't be happening...," she murmured over and over. "This
can't be happening...."


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


"Are you ready to tell me the truth?" Mulder asked her as she
opened the bathroom vanity.

"I already told you, Mulder," Scully explained, reaching for a
bottle of sedatives.  She could disguise the fear in her voice
but not the tremors of her hand.  The pills spilled from her
fingers and dropped to the floor.  She knelt down to pick them
up, reciting excuses as she counted the capsules.  "Maybe it was
vertigo or an anxiety attack.  It could be as simple as missing
breakfast this morning."

"Maybe it's these...." Mulder crouched down and flicked a pill
with his finger nail.  She watched it roll behind the toilet.
"I thought you weren't taking sedatives anymore."

"I wasn't," she admitted. "But under the circumstances...."

"Better to dream than face reality?" he interrupted.

"And what reality is that, Mulder?" she retorted, standing up.
"That I'm unfit for duty?  That I should sit behind a desk
while you and Agent Smiley search for our son?"

"What is it about Agent Reyes that bothers you so much?"

Scully opened the lid of the toilet and dumped the sedatives
from the palm of her hand.  She would not tell him.  
 
"Then I'm going to have to rely on my own imagination," he
said. "Which, by the way, has you tinted green right now."

"Well, before you color me further, let me remind you
that Agent Doggett prompted the same shade.  But instead
of fainting, you threw him against a wall."

"Who's Agent Doggett?"

Scully felt a stab of panic.  She had lost control and said
too much. "Never mind," she muttered, flushing the toilet.
"Forget I even mentioned it."

"Was he in your dream, Scully?"

"I said forget it," she snapped.  She had to get out of the
bathroom before it was too late.  The walls were closing in...
crushing her... suffocating her.  She tried to push past him,
but like others, he was unmovable, waiting for her cry out.
His hands pinned her shoulders and his dark eyes narrowed in
on her face.  

"You sound angry, but you look scared," he assessed. "What is
it, Scully?  What are you afraid to tell me?"

The pain she suddenly felt was similar to a contraction. Gut
wrenching fear.  She doubled over, grasping his arms
for support.  Her nails dug into his skin.  She couldn't
hold back the truth anymore than she could prevent her child
from being born.  She needed to push it out before it ripped
her apart.  

"She was there!" Her shriek was only a whisper.  She shook so
hard that her teeth chattered. "Agent Reyes was in my dreams,
Mulder. She was there!"

"Okay.. it's okay, Scully." Mulder pulled her against his
chest.  She could hear his heart skip a few beats before
settling back into its regular rhythm. 

"Maybe you met her before and just don't remember it," he
rationalized, leading her out of the bathroom.  He eased her
onto the bed and sat down beside her. "Before Reyes was assigned
to the X-files, she was working out the New Orleans field office."

"Specializing in ritualistic crimes?" Scully sniffed. She was 
crying.  It was another involuntary response which left her
feeling weak and helpless.
  
"That's right," he said, pushing wet strands of hair from her
face.  "See?  You remember details about her, Scully, enough to
suggest that you met her before."

"No," she argued. "Mulder, I have no memory of meeting her
before my abduction."

"So you think," he relayed. "Scully, what can you tell me about
neuroscience and memory function?"

She recited the text version, her voice still shaking. "Um...
a memory is a set of encoded neural connections. Encoding
can take place in several parts of the brain."

"The stronger the connections, the stronger the memory?" he
asked.

Scully nodded. "Recollection of an event can occur by a stimulus
to any of the parts of the brain where a neural connection for
the memory occurs."

"Have you ever heard of a retrieval clue?"

"Are you suggesting that seeing Agent Reyes prompted a 
long-term memory of her?" 

"More like a weakly encoded memory," Mulder relayed. "Lost
memories are the result of the brain's attempt to filter out
unnecessary details.  You may have met her before but didn't
attach any meaning to it."

"Well, I am now."  Scully dried her face with the back of her
hand.  "She may be a weakly encoded memory, but Agent Reyes
is my strongest link to finding William."

"Scully, the strongest link is you," Mulder said, tapping the
side of her head. "The clues are all locked up in here waiting
to be discovered."

"I'm afraid, Mulder," she whispered. "Afraid of what I'll find."

"I think it's more than that, Scully."  Mulder leaned over so
that his forehead touched hers. "I think you're afraid to tell
me what you saw.  My abduction and something else, an event so
traumatic that you can't begin to describe it."

Scully closed her eyes and lowered her face  She couldn't stop
the truth from escaping.  All she could do was muffle it against
the cool skin of his neck. "For months, I was afraid to look for
you, Mulder.  I tried in the beginning, but then I stopped.  I
waited for the clues to find me."

"It's okay, Scully," he said, stroking her hair.

"No it's not," she murmured. "Because when I finally found you,
it was too late.  You were dead."

She felt his Adam's apple bobbing against her cheek. Even though
it was a dream, it was still a hard truth to swallow.  For both
of them. "For months, I thought I'd lost you for good. The only
thing I had to sustain me was our child, Mulder. Then I discovered
you weren't dead, but in an existence that was both alive and
dead."

"I don't understand."

"I know you don't," she said. "But that's how I feel. Part of
me is alive and part of me is dead.  Everything around me has
changed and..."

"You don't know where you fit in?"

Scully gasped and lifted her face.  She stared into his eyes,
mesmerized by the kaleidoscope of color and emotion. He understood.
It had to be that simple.  He couldn't possibly remember saying
those exact words or sharing the same experience.  Or could he?

"Let me show you, Scully."

She drew her breath in sudden anticipation.  He was going to kiss
her. Of all the things that should not be happening, was this the
exception?  Was it wrong to surrender to a moment of love when
everything else was falling apart?  She wasn't sure.  But he was...

His mouth was gentle, but insistent, opening her lips to reacquaint
her with his taste and the slow draw of his tongue. She found
herself spiraling downward to where physical need replaced
emotional uncertainty.  After all, desire was ethereal only in
dreams.  This was more like instinct where every fiber of her
being was awakened by his touch.  No thought, only sensation...
his hands caressing her bare shoulders... the rustle of silk falling
from her arms...  the thrill of his mouth on her breast.
    
She would not deny herself this moment, in which the love of
two worlds joined in one reality.  Arching her back, she ran
her fingers through the crisp vitality of his hair.  Ripples of
pleasure cascaded down her spine and pooled between her legs.
For now, nothing else mattered.   Tomorrow she would wake to
another day and the same sorrow.  Tonight was theirs.

Scully closed her eyes as he unhooked the back of her skirt.
She allowed him to slide it down her hips, reveling in the
certainty of his hands.  Stretching out on the bed, she waited
for him to remove her panties.  Mulder was in no rush.  He
traced languid circles across the wet satin, prolonging her
sighs until they stretched out into a moan.
  
Leaning over, Mulder pressed light kisses where his fingers
had been.  Teasing her.  Torturing her.  She lifted her hips,
desperate for him to remove the last barrier between them. When
he didn't, she opened her mouth to protest. But as his tongue
stroked the flimsy material, she ended up panting his name.

"Mulder..."

"How does it feel, Scully," he paused to whisper.

"Good," she choked out. "So good, Mulder... so...."

"Alive?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice.  Satisfied, he inched the
panties down her legs.  It took all her willpower not to tug
at the belt to his slacks.  As he undressed, Mulder asked her.
"Do you know what sustained me all these months?"
 
She shook her head, muted by his masculine beauty.   

"The memory of your eyes," he said, kneeling between her legs.
"The way they look right now, so blue...so intense....so
compelling...."

He entered her carefully, punctuating his last words with short,
tentative thrusts.  She drew her knees back, urging him deeper.
She wanted him to fill her.  To complete her.  To take her
through that invisible doorway where only the two of them
existed.
  
Holding his gaze, she gave into the first wave of pleasure. His
eyes dilated in acknowledgment.  Past the black pupils she could
see pin points of light.  Were they stars imagined in a moment
of rapture?  Or was there a third dimension, a place so mystical
that she could only view it from a distance?

Her euphoria peaked with the surge of her orgasm. She felt him
shudder and release his essence inside of her, flooding her
with his warmth and optimism.  With Mulder, all things were possible.
Together they had conceived a child.  Together they would create
a way to find him.


To be continued...


Part 5 of ?


"Can I ask you something, Mulder?"

He glanced down at the woman who was resting in his arms.
She was still awake, which didn't surprise him.  Sex
stimulated her body, but lovemaking invigorated her mind.
He welcomed the distinction and her sudden curiosity. "You
can ask me anything, Scully," he said, stroking her hair.

"How did you find me?"

He answered without pausing, "I found you in my dreams."

"Really?" Scully shifted herself up on one elbow. Tiny
flecks of gold sharpened each blue iris into a penetrating
stare. Mulder blinked, realizing his mistake. By opening
his mind, he had given her a window of opportunity to see
past his skepticism. He pulled back mentally, hoping to dull
the color of his eyes to a protean shade of gray. For her
sake, he needed to remain visually doubtful and offer a
monochromatic truth.

"Do you remember what I said about retrieval clues, Scully?"

Her gaze was motionless and intent on his.

"My dreams were only subconscious attempts to retrieve a
detail which I hadn't previously considered," he explained.

"Which detail?"

"That I would find you in the same location where I lost
you."

He knew that she wasn't buying it by the arch of her eyebrows.
"Mulder, you found me within hours of my return. How do you
explain your perfect sense of timing?" she asked.

He masked his apprehension with a seductive grin. Pulling her
on top of him, he teased, "Would you like another demonstration?"

Scully's hands fell flat on his shoulders. "No. Not when you're
doing the same thing you accused me of."

Mulder dropped the facade and matched her serious expression.
"Which is what?"

"Closing yourself off to me," she said, rolling over onto her
back. "Don't expect me to take advantage of one without the
other."

"God, I hate it when you use my own words against me," he
grumbled.

"Well, I hate it when you tell me to consider all the
possibilities except the most obvious one."

"Which is what?"  he repeated, shifting over to his side
to study her face.

Scully held his gaze without flinching. "There is a connection
between us that transcends time and space," she said.

"That's the obvious explanation?"

"It should be for you," she said coolly . "After all, in this
universe you're supposed to be the the believer, not the
skeptic."

"What exactly am I supposed to believe?" he asked.  "That we
were somehow communicating to each other through our dreams?"

"Why not?" she countered. "Is it any more ludicrous than your
theory about perfect sense of timing?"

"No," he admitted. "But it's hard to appreciate a flight of
fancy that managed to dump me six feet under."

"Forget it, Mulder,"  Scully sighed and closed her eyes.
"I thought you would understand after we..."

"Made love?"

"Never mind," she said quietly, "Let's just get some sleep."

"Scully, look at me," Mulder pleaded. When she refused, he
reached down and stroked her cheek. "I do understand how you
feel, probably more than you realize."

"But you still don't believe, do you?"

Mulder felt a lump in his throat as she whispered words that
could so easily be his. For a minute he considered telling her
the truth.  He believed everything she said about mesmerism,
that there was an inter-dimensional field linking them on all
planes of reality, physical and non-physical. But he couldn't
allow himself to be pulled into this level of consciousness.
Not when there was so much at stake.

Swallowing hard, he said, "I'm sorry, Scully, but right now I
can't afford to believe."

"Why not?"

"Because our son's life may depend on it."

"Mulder...." She gasped his name, reaching up to cup his face
between her hands. "Do you realize what you just said?"

Before he downplay his words she was celebrating them. "You
just acknowledged William as your son," she exclaimed.

He couldn't resist the joy in her eyes or the grateful kisses
she showered across his face and neck. Instinct told him not
to. For her, it was more than an acceptance of paternity. It
was an affirmation of love.

"I should have said it sooner," he admitted, leaning over to
kiss her breasts and the soft, yielding flesh of her belly.
"Considering all the possibilities, there's only one obvious
explanation."

"Which is?" Scully hummed as her fingers danced through
his hair.

"When it came to conceiving William, our timing was perfect."

Just then, his cell phone rang on the nightstand. They both
glanced at it and then each other.

"Talk about timing..." Scully rolled her eyes as he reached
for it.

It was Skinner. The noticeable sadness in the Assistant
Director's voice alerted Mulder to more than just the
inconvenient timing of his call.  He swung his legs
over to the side of the bed and listened closely.  The
news Skinner was conveying was so devastating that Mulder
wasn't able to speak, much less breathe. He clutched his
chest, struggling to form words out of each airless gasp.

"What is it, Mulder?" Scully sat up and placed a hand on his
arm. Her gentle touch reminded him that an even gentler heart
was about to be broken.  Taking a deep breath, he said,
"We'll be on the next flight, sir."

He clicked off the phone and turned to face her.

"Scully, they think they found William," he said, clasping her
by the shoulders. "Earlier today, an infant's body was discovered
in the same location I found you."

"He's dead?" she whispered.

"We need to fly out to Oregon so you can identify the body."

This reality was worse than the most horrifying nightmare. The
pain in her eyes was so excruciating that he couldn't silence
the scream inside of him.

"This can't be happening," his mind shrieked. "This can't be
happening!"



*********


Mulder kept a firm, supportive arm around her waist as they
followed the sheriff's deputy into the woods. Her steps
faltered several times between the snow and the numbness that
deadened her limbs. By the time they reached the yellow tape,
she almost collapsed.

"What is she doing here?" she hissed at Mulder.

"Skinner sent Agent Reyes ahead to secure the location," he
murmured.

Scully stared at the woman who stood out among the group of
male deputies. A feeling of deja vu swept over her. It was as
if she had witnessed this scene before, but not through her
own eyes. It made no sense. It wasn't a dream or a memory, but
a mysterious flashback that somehow didn't belong to her. Like
tunnel vision, the perimeters were blurred and the spotlight was
on Reye's face. Before she could attach any meaning to it, the
image snapped back like an overstretched rubber band, whiplashing
her temples with pain.

"Scully?"

"It's okay," she mumbled, ducking beneath the tape and moving
forward.  "It just proves that not everything is as it appears
to be."

"What do you mean?"

The crowd parted respectfully to give her access to the tiny
infant buried in the snow. She knelt down, removing her gloves
so her fingertips could brush the ice from his face.  So tiny...
so perfect... so cold....

Abruptly, she pulled her hand back.

"It's not him," she announced.

Her voice echoed through the woods and the uncomfortable
silence of those gathered around the oak tree.  Mulder
kneeled beside her, his eyes bloodshot and his expression grim.
"Scully, I know this is hard, but..."

"It's not William."

"By your description, this baby matches the projected age and
the same coloring as William," he posed.

"He may look like our son, Mulder, but it's... not... him!"

"Agent Scully," Reyes placed a hand on her shoulder. "Right
now, I think you need to be honest about what you're seeing
rather than what you're feeling."

Scully rose to her feet and her full height of indignation.
"Agent Reyes, all I'm feeling right now is the unnecessary
intrusion of your presence."

"I'm sorry," the woman apologized. "It's just that I'm very
sensitive to the emotions around me."

"Then sense this," Scully retorted. "Back off."

She glared at the agent until she felt Mulder tug at her
arm. "Let's go, Scully."

As he guided her away from the crowd, she heard a deputy
ask Reyes. "Do you want us to order an autopsy?"

"No," she cried, whirling around. "No autopsy."

Mulder's grip shifted to her waist. "You know they need to
do this."

"No, Mulder," she pleaded desperately. "What if this child
isn't dead?  What if he's infected with a virus that seems
to keep the body just alive enough to take it through a
transformation?"

"What are you talking about?" He stared at her incredulously.

"I need a surgical bay, a team of doctors. I have to keep this
baby stabilized in order to administer anti-virals."

"Scully, he's dead,"  Mulder interrupted her in a harsh,
uncompromising tone. "Our son is dead.  Nothing is going to
change that, especially a cure you only imagined in your
dreams."

Scully clamped her hands over her ears. She had to shut him out.
His voice was competing with her son's heartbeat. She could hear
it. It was reverberating through her entire being, pounding,
throbbing, demanding to be acknowledged.

Suddenly, the contradiction was overwhelming... the sight of
death...the sound of life....  Her mind tried to latch on to
one truth, one reality, but it was too late.  Her two worlds
were colliding, crushing her, plunging her into an abyss of
darkness.

*********

"Here, drink this."

Mulder lifted Scully's head from the pillow and tipped a glass
of water to her lips.  She was drowsy, but alert enough to
swallow.

Her return to consciousness came in degrees. At first, her
lashes fluttered open, offering him a vacant stare. But as he
continued to talk to her, her eyes focused on his face. He was
too upset and distracted to wipe the tears from his cheek. Only
when she reached up to touch them did Mulder realize that he
was still crying.

"It's okay," she whispered. "Our son is not dead, Mulder."

"Christ," he swore under his breath. Setting down the glass,
he buried his face in his hands. It was all his fault. By
forcing her to identify their son, he had pushed her over
the edge. She was exhibiting signs of a nervous breakdown,
withdrawing from reality and thinking in illogical, confused
patterns.

"Where are we, Mulder?" she asked, struggling to sit up on
the bed.

Mulder knew what he had to do. Restraining her with one hand,
he reached for the phone with the other.

"We're back where it all started, Scully. The motel outside
Bellefleur."

"Who are you calling?"

"The airlines," he said. "I'm getting you out of here on the
first available flight."

"No," she protested, weakly tugging at his wrist. "I need to
stay and figure all of this out."

"The hell you do!" Mulder couldn't disguise his anger, although
it was really directed at himself. "You need help, Scully.
And this time, I'm going to make damn sure you get it."

"I have all the help I need," Scully replied. "I have you."

"You need more than profiling or psychoanalysis at this point."

"Fine." Her mood shifted from fretful to belligerent. "But before
you fucking commit me, you should at least hear me out."

Her sudden use of profanity not only caught his attention but
flared his temper.  She wasn't the only one trying to come to
terms with this tragic loss. "Okay, Scully, it's your dime.
Make the most of it."

"I will," she said in a determined voice. "Hand me the phone,
Mulder."

"Why?"

"Because I need to order an autopsy and genetic testing."

"Scully," he sighed. "You don't have to do that."

"Yes, I do," she persisted. "I'm going to prove to you
that the baby we saw is not our son."

"Listen to me," Mulder repeated.  "I said it's not necessary
to make that call."

It only took a second for the truth to register on her face.
"You already ordered the autopsy, didn't you?"

He nodded. "I'm waiting to hear back from Agent Reyes as we
speak."

"Agent Reyes...," she practically spat out the woman's name.
"You put Agent Reyes in charge of this investigation?"

"Unlike you, Scully, I can't be in two places at the same
time."

Mulder instantly regretted his choice of words.  He should
be comforting her, not insulting her.  He opened his mouth
to apologize when his cell phone rang. It was Reyes calling
from the county morgue.

Getting up from the bed, he walked to the window. "What
do you have for me, Agent Reyes?" he said into the
receiver, trying to keep his voice low.

"Bad news, I'm afraid."

Mulder tensed for confirmation of his son's identity.

"The body has mysteriously disappeared," the agent reported.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't know how to explain it, Agent Mulder," she said.
"One minute, the body was in the morgue waiting transport
to the autopsy bay.  The next minute, it was gone."

"We'll be right down." He angrily punched off his cell phone
ending the call. "Fuck... how could I be so fucking stupid?"

"What is it Mulder?"

He turned around and faced Scully. "The baby's body is missing."

"Sounds like someone doesn't want us to confirm his identity,"
she replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Which leads me to believe that you were right, Scully." Mulder
said approaching the bed. "This baby isn't our son."

Scully pressed her lips tightly together as she reached for her
boots. "Let me help you," he offered, kneeling in front of her.
She nodded, unable to speak. When he looked up, he saw that she
was crying.  His own vision clouded over with tears as she
fumbled her way back into his arms.  She clung to him, sobbing
against his shoulder.

"They hoped we would stop looking for William," she choked out.
"That the illusion would tear us apart."

Mulder hugged her tightly, ashamed, relieved and for the first
time, willing to embrace her beliefs rather than pull away from
them.

"We'll never stop looking," he promised.  "But instead of
doubting the illusion, I think it's time to be skeptical
about reality."



To be continued...


Part 6 of ?


At the county morgue, Scully waited in the hallway while
Mulder questioned the staff. He refused to allow her to be
present during the interrogation process. Although she was
annoyed, she knew he was right. She wasn't capable of
maintaining a professional front given this bizarre turn
of events. The body that was missing was not their son's,
however the lost opportunity of proving that fact infuriated
her. Besides, she didn't need to review the chain of custody
or interview the coroner. She already had her suspect.
 
Monica Reyes.

But she had to be cautious. Her outburst in the forest had
already caused others to doubt her. Even Mulder.  Although
he believed her, she wasn't sure if he trusted her state of
mind. Just because he left her alone to pace the hallway
didn't mean that she wasn't walking a thin line with him.
She knew that she was one step away from a room without a
view. The last thing she needed was to be locked away in a
psychiatric ward and medicated to the point of a dreamless
stupor.  No, it was time to confront her dreams and those
in it.
 
Scully left the building for the parking lot, where she
imagined her suspect would be communing with the cosmos
and chain-smoking.
 
"Bum a smoke from you, Agent Reyes?"

The woman greeted her with a nicotine-free smile.

"What makes you think I smoke?"

"My mistake," she said, shrugging. "Can't seem to find a
Morley when I need one."

"You smoke?" Reyes asked, eyeing her suspiciously. "You
don't strike me as the type."

"I know it's not very FBI of me, but I'm really trying to
quit."
  
The smile died instantly on the agent's lips, causing Scully
to bait her further. "So, Agent Mulder has filled me in this
baby's disappearance.  Interesting."

"Interesting?" Reyes blanched at her choice of words. "That's
not exactly how I would describe the loss of your son's body."
  
"Why not?" Scully leaned a bit closer. "What we think happened
and what actually happened aren't always the same thing, but
then again, it's not always insignificant either."

Reyes took a step back. "Why do I have this strange feeling
that you're using my own words against me?" she asked.

"I don't know," she responded, scratching the side of her head.
"You couldn't possibly have said them before, right?"

"I think we had better just stick to the facts." Reyes advised 
as she reached for the door.

"I'm just trying to keep an open mind," Scully called after her
as the woman walked away. Looking up to the sky, she let out a
small, derisive laugh.  The irony was incredible. The agent's
sudden 'by the book' technique was just as unlikey as John
Doggett showing up wearing a mood ring.  

Scully felt a shiver creep down her spine. It wasn't the chill
of the night air but a cold realization. If Reyes existed in
this universe, so might Doggett. Pulling out her cell phone,
she dialed the FBI headquarters in Washington.
  
Fifteen minutes later, she was in their rental car shivering
and contemplating her dead end. There was no Agent John
Doggett registered with the FBI.  She had requested a more
extended search through the Department of Justice's database
as well as affiliated law enforcement agencies. There had to
be a connection.  This man had to exist... somewhere....

Scully glanced up as Mulder opened the car door.  She
immediately noticed the scowl on his face. "Find anything?"
she asked.

"Yeah." He slammed the door behind him and tossed her a pack
of cigarettes. "There was a vending machine by the Sheriff's
Office.  You should really kick your imaginary habit instead
of kicking around Agent Reyes."

"Poor little black sheep," she murmured scornfully. "More like
a wolf dressed in a lambs clothing, Mulder."

"Well, she's going to blow the house down if you don't ease
up, Scully," he cautioned, turning on the ignition to the
car.

"How?" she asked. "By bleating to Skinner?"

"Remember, you're supposed to be behind a desk, not out in
the field herding sheep," Mulder reminded her. 

"You can change all that, Mulder."  Scully insisted. "One word
from you and I'm back on active duty."

"Consider the word given if you give me one logical reason
why we should suspect Agent Reyes," he countered.

"Because she isn't a retrieval clue," she stated, holding up
the pack of cigarettes. "These are."

"A pack of Morleys?"

"That's right." Scully tossed them up on the dashboard. "But
it has nothing to do with whether or not she smokes, Mulder.
It's word association."

"Smoke and....?" Mulder drew out the question to emphasize his
sarcasm.  

"Smoke and conspiracy," she clarified. "Black sheep and black
lungs."

"You've got to be kidding me," he scoffed. "Cigarette Smoking
Man?"

"Why not?" she asked. "The last time I checked, he had his
tar-stained fingers in your genetic makeup.  Why wouldn't he
be interested in your son's?"

"Because rumor has it that once you check into Hell there's
no checking out," he relayed. "He's dead, Scully."

"Ever see the body, Mulder?"
  
"Nope, but even if I did, you'd probably say that he was
infected with a virus that kept him alive long enough to
take him through a transformation," he said. "Which, by the
way, the question still remains.  Transformation into what?
A female agent who has her front teeth bleached?"

"The transformation was from a human being into a human/alien
replicant," she pursued. "Like Billy Miles."

"Billy Miles?" Mulder's question took on a sharp edge. "The
same Billy Miles who I just spoke to five minutes ago?"

"You saw him?" gasped Scully. "He was returned?"

Mulder turned on the heater of the car to warm her. Only then
did she realize that she was shaking. "Scully, he never left.
Deputy Miles is now Detective Miles and he's going to act as
liaison between the FBI and the Sheriff's Office in this
investigation."

"I can't believe this," she murmured, her eyes dropping to
her lap.
 
"Why not?" he asked. "Because your dreams make Billy Miles
as suspect as Monica Reyes?"

"There has to be a connection," Scully relayed as she rubbed
her temple.

"You're putting your finger right on it, Scully." he said.
"The connections are inside your head. You just need to relax
instead of forcing them to pop like overcharged light bulbs."

"How am I supposed to relax, Mulder?" she demanded. "Our son
is missing, the FBI thinks I'm insane and you're defending a
woman who makes whale calls. Rather than focus on what's going
on inside my head, you should just be grateful that I'm not
slapping you upside yours."
 
For a minute, Mulder didn't respond. In the semi-darkness of
the car, she watched his hands tense on the steering wheel.
As his knuckles turned white, she wondered if he was trying
to restrain his anger or tighten his grip on reality. "I know
where you're going with this, Scully," he said. "But since you
implicate every person you come into contact with, this is
where we part company and you fly back to D.C."

She was tempted to say "enjoy your company", but she didn't.
This was Mulder, not Doggett.  She would not use dialogue 
between she and an imaginary partner to alienate the real
one. Instead, she allowed her silence to speak for her.
  

********

By the time they reached the motel, it was well past midnight.
It was too late to get Scully another room and the first
available flight back to D.C. wasn't until morning. Mulder
eyed the one bed critically before settling for a chair and
a pillow. It wouldn't be the first time he slept sitting up.
During the months of her abduction, he spent so many night
hours in a car that he was accustomed to a semi-vertical
repose.
   
"That can't be very comfortable," Scully assessed as she
crawled into bed. He tried not to notice that she had stripped
off her clothes or that anger had deprived him of the soft
comfort of her body.
  
"It's fine," he grumbled, unbuttoning his shirt. She looked
so small and helpless under the covers, her blue eyes focused
on the not-so-crisp cotton. He felt a twinge of irritation.
"Want it?" he asked, taking off the shirt and holding it out
to her.

"No." Scully met his gaze evenly. "I want you."

He stood there feeling like an ass. She wasn't small and
helpless.  He was.
  
"I want you, too," he finally admitted.

"Then what are you waiting for?" she said, lifting the covers.
 
Within a minute, he was snuggling under flannel sheets with
his fingers coursing through her silky hair. "I'm sorry,"
he apologized. "I don't know why I'm being such a jerk
lately."

"Because I'm the cause to your effect," she murmured against
his chest.  "And you're mine. Trust me, Mulder. In both
universes, we know how to push each other's buttons."

"Right now, I just want to hold you and forget that the other
universe exists," he said.
 
"Then let me show you how," she suggested, pressing feather-like
kisses along his ribcage.
  
Mulder stretched out on his back as she caressed his body with
her lips. Between her fingers and her mouth, she was relieving
one type of tension and building another. He lifted her so that
her legs straddled his hips. As he held her mesmeric gaze, she
guided him inside of her and established the rhythm for them both.

Time lost all meaning. There was only thought and sensation.
While one brought him to a new height of pleasure, the other led
to a profound level of understanding. Through her, all things
were possible. By wanting him, Scully showed him that there were
forces in the universe that defied explanation.  By loving him,
she set his soul free to fly.

Suddenly, he was suffused in an incandescent light. The stars
in her eyes were exploding, sending him into an emotional
vortex. He couldn't stop his words anymore than the shuddering
release of his body. "I love you," he moaned, his head falling
back to the pillow. "God, I love you."

Scully collapsed on top of him. Her sigh of contentment prompted
a moment of awkward silence. He had only said the words once
before and she had doubted the lucidity of his mind.  Now, she
probably thought they were inspired by a sexual epiphany. But
if she doubted him, she didn't show it. Instead, she rested her
head against his shoulder. "I love you, too," she whispered.

After a pause, he said, "I don't want you to leave tomorrow."
  
"I never had any intentions of leaving, Mulder."

"Good," he agreed, ignoring the fact that he had suggested it.
"Because I'm beginning to think that in this universe, you're
the one who's supposed to be guiding me."

Little did he know that Scully would take him literally or
twist his words to prove herself.  By morning, she was gone.
It only took a few phone calls to learn that she was on a flight
headed back east.  It took several more calls to understand
why. In the middle of the night she had received her own phone
call from the FBI. According to the Bureau, Scully had been
searching for her missing connection. Courtesy of their
law enforcement database, she had found it.
  
John Doggett did exist. He wasn't an FBI agent, but a detective
with the NYPD.


**********  
 

Scully arrived at the Detective Bureau in Manhattan at noon
the next day. She paid her taxi fare and turned to take in
the alternate universe of John Doggett. It was not what she
had expected, but everything she should have considered.

New York City.  

Somehow, it all made sense... the congested city streets, the
smell of exhaust mingling with food sold by sidewalk vendors,
the friendly back-slapping of plain clothes cops as they lined
up to buy their lunch.... Only Doggett was the type to bring
order to such chaos. That his career stopped stopped an inch
short of the FBI didn't surprise her.  She suspected that his
different fate was connected with her current reality.  With
his help, she hoped to change both.

Doggett was a detective with the Fugitive Division's Warrant
Section which worked closely with investigators from other
state and federal law enforcement agencies.  She entered the
building with this in mind and her FBI badge open in her hand.
It gained her access to a bullpen not unlike the one in the
Hoover Building.  Except here the shirts and ties were a little
disheveled and the room smelled like corned beef.  

"I'm looking for John Doggett," she announced. All eyes shifted
from brown paper wrappers to the length of her skirt. From the
corner of the room, someone let out of catcall.
  
"Looks like you found him," a voice said behind her. "C'mon
guys, knock it off.  Show the lady some respect."

Scully turned around.  She was face-to-face with John Doggett.
He briefly held her gaze before dropping it to the badge in
her hand. "Or should I say the federal agent?"

"Whichever buys me a minute of your time, Detective," she said.

"The badge buys you a minute," he replied, picking up his
jacket. "But the rudeness of my peers buys you lunch."

She made a mental note not to order a glass of water. "Thanks,"
she said, as they walked to the elevator.  By the time they
boarded it, she remembered to introduce herself. "By the way,
my name is...."

"Dana Scully," he interrupted, pushing the button to the
lobby.  "Agent Reyes told me to expect you."

Scully felt her stomach lurch, not from the downward pull of
the elevator but from another sudden descent into irony.  She
groped the wall for support. "She contacted you?"

"Yeah," Doggett said, taking her arm to steady her. "You okay,
Agent Scully?"

She nodded, clearing the bile from her throat. "What exactly
did she tell you?"

"Not much." He shrugged, releasing her arm as the elevator
doors opened. "Just that you might have some questions about
her background.  I'm just curious why you can't find those
answers within the Bureau."

"Because the Bureau isn't aware that I'm investigating her,"
she replied.

"Well, they are now."  Doggett pointed out the lobby window. 
"Unless I'm mistaken, the men flipping badges at the vendor
outside are looking for more than a free lunch."

Scully grabbed the detective by his sleeve and tugged him back
into the elevator. "Those aren't FBI agents," she said, quickly
closing the doors. "I don't know who are they, but I have a
feeling I know who sent them."

"Who?"

"Agent Reyes." When Doggett shot her an incredulous look, she
held up a placating hand. "Listen, it may sound strange, but
Monica Reyes isn't who you think she is.  Just as I know that
I've never mentioned your name in her presence."

"Maybe her partner did," Doggett reasoned. "She told me that
they were trying to find your son."

Scully skipped over the mention of Mulder because she trusted
him. He would not confide in Reyes. "Like she helped you find
Luke?" she asked.

"You've been checking into my background, too," Doggett said
curtly. "What the hell is this all about, Agent Scully?"

"Agent Reyes led me to a dead child, just like she led you.
Except it wasn't my son. And she knows that."

Doggett gaped at her through the fluorescent light of the
elevator. "Do you know how crazy that sounds?"

"Yes," she conceded. "Which is why I need your help. Without
you, I can't prove it."

"Again, what the hell are you talking about?"

Before she could answer, there was a loud noise outside the
elevator.  Someone was trying to force the doors open. "Detective
Doggett, we might both be in danger. Is there another way out of
this building?"

Doggett punched the button to the basement. "I don't know why
I'm doing this," he mumbled. "I must be as insane as you."


To be continued...

Part 7 of ?




He was strapped in a chair, his body restrained by steel rods
driven through his wrists and ankles.  Oddly, he felt no pain,
only an increasing sense of dread and panic. As a bright light
whirled above him, his fingers clenched tightly together. He
must not scream her name.  If he did, they would hear it. They
would realize their mistake, that they had abducted the wrong
person.
 
Mulder woke in a cold sweat. It took several minutes for him
to adjust to his terror and realize that he was buckled in a
seat of an airplane. Swiping his forehead with the back of
his hand, he glanced out the window.  The plane was on its
final approach to LaGuardia Airport. As one massive wing dipped
towards the earth, his stomach plummeted with it. 

What if his nightmare was more than a dream? What if the dream
was supposed to be his reality?

He had often considered himself a likely target of an alien
abduction. Scully was right. Cigarette Smoking Man wasn't the
only one interested in his genetic make-up. The aliens were
too.  Maybe that's why Scully was taken instead of him. They
knew she was pregnant with his child.  Why abduct the source
when one could steal the result?

A genetic hybrid... a child considered a savior or a threat.
Both human and alien races benefited from hiding the proof
of William's existence. By returning a mirror image of their
son, those responsible for it hoped that the search would end.
When it didn't, the body disappeared and the conspiracy began.

But so did the leads....

As the plane landed and taxied along the runway, Mulder reviewed
the information he had on John Doggett. The connection between
Reyes and Doggett had taken place several years ago.  The
detective's son had been kidnapped by alleged cultists and
Reyes was the agent who assisted in the investigation. Whether
she volunteered or was assigned was still ambiguous. What
couldn't be more clear was the fact that the boy was found dead,
his body beneath an oak tree.
 
The similarities were enough for Mulder to investigate. Intuition
told him that Scully was on to something. Unfortunately, so was
Reyes. Before his plane departed from Oregon, Mulder received a
phone call from Skinner. The whale caller was making waves. He
was cautioned to reel Scully in before her unofficial fishing
trip netted her an official suspension from Kersch.
         
Frustrated, he tried reach Scully by cell phone once he was on
the airport ramp. When she answered, he stopped dead in his
tracks. "You're supposed to guide me, not ditch me" he said
into his phone.
 
"Where are you, Mulder?"

"LaGuardia Airport." He stepped aside to allow people to pass.
"Where are you?"

"I'm in the Detective Bureau's parking garage." There was a 
noticeable pause in her voice.  "Mulder, did you send someone
to follow me?"

"If I had, I'd be picking you up in the airport baggage claim,"
he said. "Why Scully?  Is someone following you?"

"I can't talk right now," she answered, sounding breathless.
She was running.  He could hear commotion in the background as
well as a man's voice urging her on. "I'll call you back."

"Scully!"  Mulder yelled her name into the phone.  When she
didn't respond, he shoved it in his jacket pocket and sped up
the ramp. "Shit."

He navigated the crowded concourse, bypassing the escalator for
the stairs.  At the rental car counter, he pushed past the row
of people in front of it. "I need a car and directions to the
Detective Bureau in Manhattan," he demanded. "Now!"

The attendant squinted at him though his glasses. "What do you
think this is, buddy?  A New York minute?  Get the hell back in
line."

Mulder held up his badge.  

The man handed him a pair of car keys. "Take the Tri-Boro Bridge
to 21st Street."

By the time he drove onto Grand Central Parkway, his cell phone
rang. It was Scully. "Are you okay?" he bellowed over the sound
of traffic.  

"I'm fine." she told him. "Whoever was following me doesn't know
their way around New York."

"Neither do I," Mulder said. "Where are you?"

"Queens Boulevard," she advised "Where are you?"

"I'm not sure," he responded, glancing at the road signs. "But
I have a funny feeling that we're going in opposite directions."

"We generally are," Scully replied. "Listen Mulder, turn back
around. There's a deli near you. Hang on and I'll tell you how
to get there."

Minutes later, he parked his car in front of a seedy looking
deli. Standing out front was Scully, her hair tousled by the
wind and her cheeks tinged with excitement. He wasn't sure if
he should hug her or cuff her. "Scully, you better have something
more to offer me than just pastrami on rye."

"How about a serving of proof?" she countered. "John Doggett.
He's inside ordering us lunch."

"And I'm outside waiting for an apology," he retorted. 
   
"I'm sorry, Mulder," she replied, brushing a strand of hair
from her face.  "But you wouldn't have believed me anyway."

"Since when don't I get the benefit of the doubt?" he asked.

"Since you gave it away to your new partner," she said evenly.
 
"Is that when you decided to find a new one of your own?"

"Mulder...."
  
He followed her gaze to the pavement where his shoes were
scraping the asphalt. "Okay, I admit it." he said. "I feel
like I'm walking a thin line with you lately."

"Take a step closer," she urged. "I'm feeling the same way
too."

Instead of shuffling his feet, Mulder planted them around hers.
He pulled her into his arms to hug her tightly, "I'd cross any
line for you, Scully," he murmured against the crown of her head.
"Real or imagined."
 
"Thank you," she said in a shaky voice. "You don't know how much
I needed to hear that, Mulder."

Mulder lifted her chin and gave her a quick, reassuring kiss. He
then turned her around to face the door. "Lead on, partner. I've
got your back covered."

Inside the deli, Doggett was waiting for them at a table. "So,
this is Agent Mulder," he remarked, standing up to shake his
hand. "You're not what I expected."

Mulder used the gesture to test the man's strength. "I was just
thinking the same thing about you."

"Quite a grip there, Agent," the cop noted. "Let's hope it
includes a grip on reality. We've got us a tense situation
here.  Agent Scully seems to think that the death of my son
is somehow related to alien abduction."

Mulder gave Scully a sidelong glance. "You're starting to
remind me a lot of myself," he quipped before turning back
to Doggett. "Does that answer the question for you, Detective?"

"Don't tell me that you're buying into this crap," the man
remarked.  He glanced sheepishly at Scully before pulling a
chair out for her. "No offense, Agent Scully."

"Actually, I prefer to call it a leap of faith," Mulder said,
sitting down. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.
"Ever take one, Detective?"

"Nope." Doggett sat down. Judging by his posture, he was the
type to keep his feet firmly planted on the ground. "Now, maybe
I'm just an old-fashioned cop but I don't take leaps. In my
experience leaps only get people killed."

"Where have I heard that before?" Scully murmured.

"Listen," the detective said, crooking his finger so that the
three of them huddled across the table. "I don't know what's
going on here, but Agent Scully is right about one thing. She's
in danger.  Those men who were following her tried to plow us
down in a parking garage."

"What does that suggest to those cop instincts?" asked Mulder.

"That the world already has enough bad guys without dressing
them up in little green suits," Doggett answered.
  
Mulder nodded affably, but as the detective went to pick up
their lunch order, he whispered to Scully, "This is the guy
took over the X-files in your dreams?"

"I know it's hard to believe, but..."

"After this, I'll believe anything."

"Just give him a chance, Mulder."
  
"Why?"

"Because he's worth it," she relayed, glancing up at Doggett
as he sat down with a tray of sandwiches and fries. "Detective,
was your son's body ever autopsied?"

The man turned a bottle of ketchup upside down and gave it a
hard smack. "My ex-wife wouldn't permit it," he said, using
his nail to flick open the cap. 

"So you never had absolute confirmation it was your son's
body," she noted.

Doggett stared at her in disbelief as ketchup poured onto the
table. "Agent Scully, I saw Luke with my own eyes.  It's a
vision I'll never forget."

"I know," Scully replied as she handed him a napkin. "But what
if the body you saw only resembled your son?"

"Why the hell would someone want to do that?" he scoffed.

"To end your search," she relayed  "To bury the truth along
with the lie."

Doggett shot Mulder an incredulous look. "Are you just gonna
sit there eating French fries or are you gonna say something?"

"Detective, all I can say is this," Mulder intervened. "If it
was my son, I would want to know for sure."

"How does one know for sure?" the man asked, mopping up the
ketchup.
  
"By exhuming the body," said Scully.
  
"Not on your life...." 

"What if Luke's life depends on it?" she pursued. "Your son
could still be alive."

"Based on what?  A crazy notion?"  Doggett threw the napkin
down on the table. "The answer is no, Agent Scully.  Unless
you can offer me more substantial proof, I'm not digging up
my boy."

Scully sighed and pushed her plate away. "You were supposed
to be my proof."

"Look, I'm sorry," he said. "Sorry about your son and what
you're going through.  But I can't help you.  The best I can
do is buy your...."

The detective never got to finish his sentence.  His voice was
cut off by sudden gunfire which knocked him backwards from his
chair. Mulder grabbed Scully by the arm and yanked her under the
table. "Are you okay?" he yelled over the screams of the panicked
customers.  When she nodded, he asked.  "How about armed?"

"Yeah," Scully panted, reaching underneath her jacket for her
gun. "Where did the shot come from?"

There was shattered glass everywhere. "Judging by the window,
I'd say right across the street," Mulder said, pointing his gun
directly ahead.  "Check him out, Scully."

He glanced back briefly as Scully crawled along the floor to
the detective. "How bad is he?"

"Bad enough to suggest that he was the target," she relayed.  
"The bullet hit him in the right shoulder.  A couple of inches
lower and he would be dead."

Mulder squinted out the window.  Whoever was out there was hidden
behind the glare of the afternoon sun.

"Mulder, I'm applying pressure to stop the bleeding, but I need
to put my gun down to reach for my cell phone and call 911."

"It's okay, Scully," he said. "Judging by the sirens, I think
the call's been made."

He just wondered who made it.


*********


Scully stood beside the detective's hospital bed, maintaining
a silent vigil while he slept.  Now that Doggett was out of
immediate danger, she had time to reflect on how her actions
had put him there.  It was all her fault.  If only she had
relied on practiced logic rather than amateur instincts, this
would have never happened.

Maybe that's where the paradox began. With her. By reversing
her role from skeptic to believer, she had disturbed the balance
of this universe. She had become the cause to the effect of
everyone around her.
  
Scully gazed at Doggett, willing to see a solitary truth instead
of a shared flashback.  She reminded herself that his eyes were
closed for a reason, one that was horribly real and not imagined.
He had been targeted and shot. Others were making the same 
connection that she was, except they were prepared to kill to
stop it. 

It would have been better if she had never dreamed at all.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I should have never you a part
of this."

"You were so sure before," he mumbled, his eyes opening suddenly.
"What happened to taking a leap?"

Scully stifled her gasp by pressing her fingers against her lips.
He was awake. "Leaps get people killed," she reminded him.

"You're scared," he accused in a gruff voice.

Her hand dropped to the railing of his bed. "Aren't you?"

Doggett nodded. "You know, I needed to believe that I did
everything in my power to save my son," he admitted. "But
right now, I'm just scared that I let him down."

"I'm sure you did everything you could, Detective."

"Did I?"  With great effort, he lifted his forearm so that his
hand covered hers. "Someone was counting on my fear to stop me
from the considering the possibilities.  The bullet was meant
to guarantee it."

"I don't know what to say," she hesitated. "You may just have
been in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Look me in the eyes and tell me that," he demanded. "Because
I have a feeling that you've seen more than you're letting on."

"I can't," Scully murmured, dropping her gaze and withdrawing
her hand. "I'm sorry, but I can't be your eyes."

Doggett's arm fell back onto the bed. "Okay, but you can be
my legs. Agent Scully, I'm gonna let you exhume my son's body,
but I want you there every step of the way."

It was more than she could ever hope for, an opportunity to
change fate for the both of them. But as she glanced at
his bandaged shoulder, she imagined the worst. He was desperate.
So was she... Would their mutual anguish lead to more bloodshed?
She fumbled for an excuse. "Detective, I need to be honest with
you.  I'm on shaky ground with the Bureau right now."

"So?"

"I'm going to need a Court Order to do this.  That's going to
take time, and I don't have any to spare."  She paused to draw
in her breath.  "In fact, I have to report back to Washington
tomorrow.  My involvement in today's incident has me in a lot
of trouble."

"This is New York, Agent Scully," he said.  "It's my turf.  I
can have someone out to my son's graveside within an hour."

"What if your ex-wife finds out?"

"The last I heard, she moved south with her pharmaceutical
company," he advised.  "The range of her attention span is
limited to a microscope."

Scully tried one last time. "But an exhumation is bound to
draw someone's attention."

"Not if it's done at night," Doggett insisted.
  
"I'm not winning this argument, am I?"

"I'm counting on you to win me hope, Agent Scully."

**********


By 2:00 a.m., Scully was standing in a Staten Island
autopsy bay with a casket, Mulder and two cops who were
moonlighting as grave diggers. She needed to work fast to
secure DNA samples.  She was up against a time clock.  Not
only did the body have to be re-buried before dawn, but she
and Mulder had an early morning flight scheduled back to D.C.

"I'm ready," she announced from behind her face mask. She was
in full pathologist's gear, prepared to separate her emotions
from the task at hand.  But nothing could prepare her for what
she found once the casket was open.

The body was missing.


To be continued...



If you open your mind to me
You won't rely on open eyes to see
The walls you build within
Come tumbling down
And a new world will begin

Living twice at once you learn 
You're safe from pain in the dream domain
A soul set free to fly... 



Title:              Silent Lucidity (8 of ?)
Author:             Paige Caldwell
Email:              paigecaldwell@hotmail.com

Part 8 of ?


Inside the autopsy bay, one of the cops asked, "Is this some
kind of a joke?"
 
Mulder glanced inside the empty casket. "No joke," he said
solemnly.  He lifted his gaze to Scully,  who stood on the
other side of the casket. Above her face mask, her blue eyes
looked fixed and dilated. Her hopes had just died a painful
death. "No joke," he repeated, willing her to view the truth
from his perspective, where hope came in various incarnations.
"Just a well-orchestrated hoax."

Scully blinked, her stare changing from horror to disgust. "I
need some air," she said, stripping off her face mask and latex
gloves.  She threw them in the trash can on her way out the door.
 
Mulder followed her outside. "Are you okay?"

She hunched over to clasp her knees. "Do I look okay?" she
choked out.

"You look like you're going to be sick," Mulder assessed.
He wasn't sure if she was going to throw up or start
hyperventilating. He was prepared for either reaction, his
hand already rubbing her back.
 
"I am sick," she said, jerking back up. The sudden movement
must have forced cold air down her throat because the results
were a rush of words and a release of pent-up fury. "I'm sick
and tired of being one step behind in this marathon of deceit.
I'm emotionally exhausted, physically spent and in a few hours,
professionally ruined."

"Not if I have any say about it," Mulder tried to reassure her.

"That's just it," Scully exclaimed. "You don't. After this
fiasco, no one will be able to stop the Bureau from taking
disciplinary action. I'll be lucky if they suspend me, instead
of firing me."

Mulder gripped her by her shoulders and turned her around to
face him. "Listen to me, Scully. You've uncovered a conspiracy.
There are two missing bodies.  That has to count for something
with Kersch."

"The numbers are stacked up against me, Mulder. A New York City
detective was shot during an unofficial investigation by an agent
who was supposed to be sitting behind a desk."

"If you go down, I go down with you," he promised. "You'd do it
for me."

"Oh Mulder," she sighed, closing her eyes. "I would now, but
I didn't before."

"What do you mean?"

"In my dream... the other universe... you were the one who was
fired, not me," she told him. "I stayed with the Bureau, but for
all the wrong reasons.  I was irritated at you, Mulder.  You had
taken unnecessary chances with your job.  You had refused to
acknowledge our child as your own.  I thought that I was being
responsible, but in truth I was angry at you for being so
irresponsible.  And now I know how it feels."

"Shit," Mulder mumbled to himself. It was impossible for him
to defend an imaginary behavior that came so close to mirroring
a real one.  He wondered if her dreams held more than retrieval
clues.  Buried deep within her self-conscious were feelings
trying to surface.  Doubts.  Insecurities.  Resentment.  

By holding her dreams to light, would he see more than he
bargained for? Would he see himself viewed through her eyes?

Mulder wrapped his arms around her. He would not allow his own
worst nightmare to undermine her reality.  She was trembling,
her small body caving to the enormous pressure she was under.
"I'm not upset with you, Scully," he asserted.  
   
"That's good," she sniffed, pressing her face against his chest.
"Because right now, I'm pretty upset with myself."

Mulder could feel her tears dampening the front of his shirt.
He held her, trying to absorb her pain.  His own doubts faded to
sharper protective instincts.  More than her career was in
jeopardy.  Her self-confidence was at risk.  It was time for him
to take lead and steer her back to the same assuredness that had
guided them both.

Suddenly, there was a cough behind them.  Mulder pulled away,
keeping a supportive hand on Scully's arm.  The two police
officers were standing in the doorway wondering what to do
next.
  
"Pick up your shovels," he replied. "The coffin goes back into
the ground exactly as planned."

It didn't bother him that they looked to Scully for confirmation.
Doggett had left her in charge.  He trusted her.  Just as Mulder
trusted her to make the right decision.  She nodded her
affirmation before reaching for her cell phone. "I need to call
Doggett and tell him," she said.

"Call him in the morning," Mulder suggested. "You're tired, Scully.
Whatever you say right now won't sound very reassuring."

She sighed and turned off her cell phone. "So what do we do?"

"We check into a hotel by the airport so you can rest."

By the time they arrived at the hotel, there was only a few hours
before their scheduled flight.  She was too wound up to sleep so
he used each moment to pamper her.  He undressed her... showered
with her... and once she was wrapped in a bath towel, picked her
up and carried her to bed.
  
"Thank you," she whispered.
    
Mulder stretched out beside her. "What for?"

"For letting me feel little and scared."

"Anytime," he murmured, caressing her face. "But remember
Scully, those involved in this conspiracy want you to feel
vulnerable.  By undermining your resolve, they hope to stop
you from finding William."

"They'll never stop me," she stated between clenched teeth. "I
don't care what it takes, Mulder. I'll never stop looking."

Mulder waited for her words to register in her own mind. When
the tears in her eyes took on a hard sheen, he knew that they
had. 

"I may not have my job," Scully continued. "But I still have
myself...and I still have you."

He smiled to himself. "Seems like I've heard those words
before."

"That's because you taught me the true meaning of strength,"
Scully said. "I love you, Mulder."
  
He leaned over to kiss her. "I love you, too."

As her lips opened beneath his, he realized that reassurance
wasn't limited to words. She was as confident about him as he
was about her. For every kiss and touch, she returned the same
amount of adoration and passion. With his tongue he heightened
her desire, using it liberally and intimately to arouse her
body. In turn, her gasps of pleasure aroused him.  When she
was ready, he entered her, matching each intake of her breath
with long, deliberate strokes. Her hands grasped his backside, 
urging deeper... harder and finally, faster.
 
"Open your eyes, Scully," he panted.  His hair was still wet
from the shower and dripping on her face.  He jerked his head
to the side to shake off the excess moisture. "Be with me."

Her gaze took him to a different level, an altered state of
consciousness where thoughts climaxed as well as their bodies.
They were one, in body and in mind. He could see, feel and
experience her orgasm as if it was his own.  And it was.

Their simultaneous release led to a shared inner stillness.
He dared not move or speak. In her eyes, he saw a mutual clarity,
one that he wanted to preserve. But the effects were temporary.
There was too much external chaos, the sound of pre-dawn traffic
and the roar of nearby jet engines. When Scully glanced at the
clock, the spell was broken.

"We have a plane to catch," she said sadly.

As they dressed, he consoled himself with the knowledge that the
quest for William would never tear them apart.  It was drawing
them closer together in a way he never thought possible.


**********


The following afternoon, Scully sat in front of Kersch's desk.
It was a short meeting.  He wasn't interested in her self-defense
or conspiracy theories.  He refused to hear Mulder's testimony on
her behalf or consider Skinner's recommendation for a reduced
sentence.
  
She was fired.
  
Scully held his cold stare during his pronouncement, resisting
the urge to smooth the wrinkles from her skirt.  The days of
crisp, linen suits were over.  Her clothes were disheveled and
her career was permanently stained.  But she felt no regret.
Distinction had become like a fashion accessory, one that she
could no longer afford.

She left his office with a restyled dignity. Unfortunately,
Mulder was outside in the hallway, pacing in his Armani suit
with a flair towards revenge.  Not even Skinner could curb his
rage.  He tried to launch himself past his supervisor to
gain access to Kersch's office. Alarmed, she grabbed onto
his jacket sleeve and tugged it like a leash.
  
"Mulder, stop" she demanded. "You can't do this."

"Listen to her," Skinner hissed. "If you quit now, they win."

Scully wasn't sure whose words had more impact. Either way,
Mulder finally backed off and headed for the elevator. Skinner
gave her a brief, apologetic look before motioning her to
follow him.

Once they were inside, she turned to face him. "You knew this
might happen."

The inner workings of his jaw suggested that Mulder wasn't
ready to swallow the truth or acknowledge his promise. They
had agreed earlier that he would stay on with the FBI if only
to take advantage of its resources.  Until now, she didn't
realize that it was such a hard pact for him to make.
 
"Please don't do this, Mulder."

"Do what?" He turned on her suddenly, his gaze rabid and his
teeth flashing a dangerous white. "Be upset by a decision
that was already made?"

She shook her head, confused by his accusation. "I know it
goes against protocol, but the Deputy Director has the
authority to terminate an agent without a disciplinary
hearing."
  
"Don't you understand?" he growled. "By doing this, Kersch
confirms what I already suspected. He's the one who assigned
Reyes to the X-files in the first place. Scully, he's a part
of this fucking conspiracy."

It was her turn to swallow an uncomfortable truth. "Do you
think Skinner knows?"

"I'm not sure," he replied. "Judging by his words, he may
be trying to clue us in."

"Then we take the hint," Scully insisted. "You have to play
along, Mulder. If we're ever going to get to the bottom of
this, you need to stay within the Bureau."

Before he could answer her, the elevators door opened. Still
angry, he strode ahead leaving her to trail behind him. 
"Mulder...."

He reached for an empty box in the cluttered corridor. "Here,"
he said, handing it to her. "Let's pack you up and get the
hell out of here."

She accepted the box but not his suggestion. "Mulder, I have
to walk out by myself. At this point, pretense is everything."

Mulder stared at the floor. "What will you do with the rest
of your afternoon?"

Scully shrugged, trying to make light of the situation. "I
don't know. Maybe I'll make dinner for a change. Think I
can convince you to join me?"

"I'll be home by six," Mulder replied curtly.  His tone
didn't offend her.  She knew that he would adjust.  They
both would.
  
When Scully got home, she found a thick envelope shoved under
the door. She shifted the box under one arm and leaned over to
pick it up. The envelope was unmarked. Curious, she went over
to her desk where she traded the box for a letter opener. Inside
the envelope was a tape and a hand scribbled note.

"Play it...," it said.

The note came right to the point, just like the man who wrote it.
John Doggett. How he managed to secure the tape so quickly
wasn't surprising.  The detective had connections. But what
did surprise her was the voice on the tape.  Stunned, she
reached for her phone.

Mulder answered her call on the first ring.

"I think you had better come home early," she said. 

He didn't ask her to elaborate.  They both knew that others
might be monitering their calls.  She hung up the phone 
and stared at her tape player.

The voice on the 911 tape belonged to Monica Reyes.



To be continued...

Part 9 of ?



Mulder arrived at their apartment within the hour. He found
Scully at her computer, sitting cross-legged in her chair
with a carton of Lo Mein balanced on her knee. So much for
a home cooked meal, he thought. As Scully waved him over with
a pair of chop sticks, he suspected that she had more on the
menu than Chinese take-out. "What's going on?" he asked,
tossing his jacket on the back of the couch.

"I want you to listen to something," she relayed. Mulder
leaned against the desk with his arms folded, trying to
ignore the rumbling of his stomach.  He was tired and
hungry. It was going to take more than a tape player and
a couple of egg rolls to revive his interest.
 
He listened to the 911 tape, instantly recognizing the
voice of the caller.  

Monica Reyes.

"Is this some kind of joke?" he asked.

Scully passed him a pair of chop sticks.  "No, just a
well orchestrated hoax," she reminded him.

"What do you mean?"  Mulder pulled up a chair and sat down
beside her.  She had his full attention now.

"Take a look at this," Scully said, pointing to her computer
screen.  He scrolled down what appeared to be a 911 phone
log. "Notice anything unusual?"

"It was recorded as an anonymous call?" he offered.

"It was recorded ten minutes before the shooting occurred."
  
"Are you sure, Scully?"

"As sure as the watch on my wrist," she said. "Which I
just happened to glance at before Doggett was shot."
 
"Let me hear the tape again," he requested. She handed him
the carton of Lo Mein and reached for the tape player.
Mulder listened to it several times in between slurps of
seasoned noodles.  His mind was racing as quickly as his
stomach was digesting.
  
"Notice how Reyes didn't identify herself or give the exact
location of the shooting," he commented. "Have the authorities
been able to trace her call?"

Scully took the carton back. "A pay phone two blocks away from
the deli," she advised, using her chop stick to hook a wilted
vegetable. "Think she's the one who shot Doggett?"

"Maybe," he considered. "But then again, maybe not. She could
have been trying to prevent it."

Scully gave him an incredulous look followed by a slight choking
sound.  For a minute, he wasn't sure if she was regurgitating
sarcasm or had a noodle stuck in her throat. "Want me to slap
you on the back?" he offered.

"Go ahead," she encouraged. "Then I won't feel guilty for
slapping you upside the head.  Mulder, what will it take to
convince you that Reyes is the one responsible for this?"

"A motive."   

"That's easy," retorted Scully. "She didn't want Doggett to
exhume his son's body."

"Too easy...," he paused, glancing towards the kitchen. "I
don't suppose you ordered General Tso's Favorite Chicken,
did you?"

"It's on the counter," she replied. "Although I can't believe
that's the extent of your interest right now, Mulder."

"Oh, it's not," Mulder clarified as he got up from his chair.
"But as you so aptly put it, we're in a marathon of deceit. 
This runner needs to fuel up occasionally."

"Grab me an egg roll while you're at it," Scully called after
him.

As Mulder sorted through plastic cartons of food, he organized
his thoughts.  He had no doubt that Reyes was involved in
Doggett's shooting.  The question was to what extent?  Over
the years he had learned that there were many levels to a
conspiracy. The roles that were easily apparent were also
generally wrong.
  
What troubled him more was Scully's eagerness to use false
credentials to secure information. She had been fired from
the FBI less than three hours ago and was already placing
herself in jeopardy.  The ends didn't always justify the means,
especially from a jail cell.

"Scully, I know you know this, but what you've been doing is
in violation of the law."

Scully glanced over her shoulder. "Really? I thought when I
was abducted, they changed the rules."

Mulder blinked, startled by her smart-ass response.  It sounded
like something he would say.  Deja-vu all over again, except
this time he wasn't sure if was the result of mesmerism or the
MSG in the soy sauce.  Whatever the cause,  it made his head
ache.

Scully motioned him back to his chair. "Sit down before you fall
down, Mulder," she said. "It's not as bad as you think. I didn't
use my credentials to secure this information. John Doggett sent
it to me."

He wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse.
 
"You're going back to New York, aren't you?"
  
Scully nodded. "I have to, Mulder. Doggett is having NYPD run
ballistics on the bullet taken from his shoulder. I want to be
there to see if it matches up with Reyes' gun."

"We both know that bullet's not going to match," Mulder said.
"What's the real reason, Scully?"

She paused, scraping the bottom of the carton for a water
chestnut and a good excuse. "I just have a funny feeling about
this."

"Now you're starting to sound like Reyes," he commented.

"Maybe it's because she's not the one channeling other people's
thoughts," she remarked. "I think I am...."


**********


Later that night, Scully had another dream.  She was tied to a
filthy bed as a group of religious fanatics stood around her.
They were faceless. Their features were blurred by the light
of candles which dripped wax on the floor with a resounding hiss.
The thing they put into her back was as cold and inhuman as they
were. She could feel it creeping up her spine, its tentacles
stretching upwards to take control her brain.
 
She screamed, but the sound that tore from her throat was not
her own.  The creature wasn't a slug, but a expanding piece
of metal.
  
It was alive.

"Scully, wake up." She heard his voice, but the dream did not
end until he rolled her over from her stomach. Opening her
eyes, she screamed again, this time from panic instead of pain.

Mulder gripped her by the shoulders.  "What is it, Scully?"

She tore at the buttons on her nightshirt. "Help me, Mulder,"
she cried. "Look at my back and tell me if there are any scars
or protrusions."

"What are you talking about?"

"Just do it!"

She yanked off the shirt and sat up.  Mulder turned on a light
and ran his fingers down the length of her spine. "There's
nothing there," he relayed. "Your skin is as smooth and soft
as it's always been."

Scully dropped her chin to her chest, exhaling in relief. 
"It wasn't me," she murmured. "It never happened to me...."


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


The next morning, Mulder stood in the kitchen drinking the
first of several predicted cups of coffee.  He was exhausted,
his one chance at a decent night's sleep ruined by Scully's
dream.  While she had almost immediately fallen back to sleep,
he spent the rest of the night contemplating her nightmare.
By dawn he gave up.  There were more questions than answers
and the quiet of his mind was jarred by the memory of her
screams. Somehow the pitch of her terror seemed off-key,
as if it belonged to another.

He carried his cup of coffee into their bedroom. "I don't
think you should go to New York today," he said.

"Why not?" Scully asked, zipping up her overnight bag. "I
thought we agreed that it was a good idea."

"No, that was your reflection in the mirror," he corrected.
"Agreeing with you while I was leaning over the sink and
brushing my teeth."

"I guess it was a good thing that your mouth was full of
toothpaste," she remarked.  "Because I'm going."

Mulder set the cup down on the dresser. "Sit down, Scully.
I want to talk to you."

He joined her on the edge of the bed, his hands resting
against his thighs in a neutral position.  Scully was in full
battle mode.  The last thing he wanted to do was antagonize
an already tense situation.  Keeping his voice calm and
deliberate, he said,

"I'm worried about you, Scully. I want you to reconsider
your decision about going to New York."
  
Her eyes dropped to the floor.  Mulder watched as she aligned
her feet next to his. Her boots were dwarfed by his size
twelve shoes.  He wondered if she felt belittled by his concern.
"You measure up, Scully," he tried to reassure her. "You always
have."

"Then why do I feel small and useless?" she whispered.

"Because you've just been run over by the big wheels of the 
FBI," he commiserated. "Look, I know you feel the need to prove
yourself but it's not necessary.  More importantly, it could be
dangerous."

"How so?"

"What if that bullet wasn't meant for Doggett?" Mulder asked the
one question that was haunting him. "What if it was meant for
you?"

Scully drew circles in the carpet with the toe of her boot.
"Then we're dealing with someone with a poor aim?"

"This time," he said. "What if there's a next time?"

"I can take care of myself, Mulder."

"I know you can," he asserted. "But you're no longer authorized
to carry a gun. I don't like the idea of you going unarmed into
what could easily be a trap."

Her heel fell heavily onto the floor. "Then what do you suggest?"

"I go with you."

"What if Kersch finds out?" 

"I'll tell him that I was responding to an urgent call made by
Agent Reyes," he said.  Her look of appreciation prompted him
to add jokingly, "Can't blame an agent for checking up on his
partner."

Scully's gaze dropped back to the floor. Partner. He had used
an unfortunate play on words, an off-hand remark that wounded
instead of amused her.

In any marathon, the runner occasionally stumbled. 
 

**********


As they stepped off the elevator in the hospital, Scully saw
a tall brunette leaving John Doggett's room. She pointed at
the woman who was exiting by way of the back stairs. "Is that
who I think it is?"

"It looks like our 911 caller is reaching out to touch
someone," Mulder said. "Check on Doggett, Scully. I'm going 
to follow her." 

While Mulder took chase, Scully hurried to the detective's
hospital room.  Without knocking, she pushed open the door.
His bed was empty.  Whirling around, she caught one of the
floor nurses. "Where's the patient in room 502?"

The nurse glanced over Scully's shoulder. "He was in there
the last time I checked."

"Agent Scully?" The voice behind her made her jump. It was
Doggett, dressed in street clothes, his injured shoulder
supported by an arm sling. "I was in the bathroom. Were you
looking for me?"

"Yes, but I wasn't the only one," she replied. "We just saw
Agent Reyes leaving your room."

"Monica?" The detective's blue eyes swept the corridor. "She
was here?"

"In the flesh," she advised. Her choice of words led her to a
frightening realization. "Oh my God...."

"You okay, Agent Scully?"

"I don't have time to explain," she said. "Stay here. I'll be
back as soon as I can."

"I've just been discharged," he protested.  "Hey... wait!"

Scully was already by the elevator, pushing the down button. If
her suspicions were right then Mulder was in danger. How could
she be so blind....so stupid?  For weeks her subconscious had
been painting a picture.  John Doggett had just managed to put
it in a frame.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked as the detective
joined her by the elevator.

"I'm going with you," Doggett said. "You're where the action
is."

"The hell you are," Scully objected, giving him a sidelong
glance. "Wait a minute, are you packing a gun?"

"I'm a cop." He shrugged. "This is New York City. What do
you expect?"

"Not much with your arm in a sling," she commented.
  
The elevator doors opened. She grabbed the gun from his waist
band and jumped on the platform.  "I'll take good care of
it," she promised.

"Fuck," he cursed, taking a step forward. Her reflexes were
quicker than his.  She slammed her fist against the control
panel and the doors snapped shut.  

By the time she reached the parking garage, Scully saw that
she was too late.  Monica Reyes was gone and Mulder was
crumpled against the door of the stair well.  "No," she cried,
rushing to his side.  He was dazed but conscious.  She kneeled
down to brush the unruly hair from his eyes, her fingers
quickly assessing his head for bumps or contusions.

"What happened, Mulder?"

He groaned and sat up. "I'm not sure," he mumbled. "One
minute, I'm running... the next minute, I'm bouncing off 
the wall like a basketball."

"Let's have the emergency room check you out," Scully suggested.
She slid both arms underneath his shoulders and helped him to
his feet.

"I'm fine," Mulder asserted. "I just had the wind knocked out
of me. Scully, that couldn't have been Reyes.  No human being
possesses that kind of strength.  It had to be a shape-shifter."

"Like the Bounty Hunter?" she asked before slowly shaking her
head. "No, Mulder. I think we're dealing with something else,
a being so powerful that no one can stop it."

"What are you saying, Scully?"

"Monica Reyes is a human replacement."

"An alien replicant?"

"Yes," she replied. "Do you remember my dream last night?"

"How could I forget it?" Mulder rubbed the back of his neck.
"I've never heard you scream like that, Scully. In fact, it
didn't even sound like you."

"It wasn't me," Scully remarked. "It was Reyes. During my
abduction, I must have witnessed her actual transformation.
It was horrible, Mulder.  They inserted this thing into her
spine, a piece of living metal.  Somehow my mind must have
distorted it, where I reversed roles and tried to attach
meaning to it."

Mulder opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the
sudden ring of his cell phone. He lifted it from his jacket
pocket and motioned Scully to listen in.  She leaned forward,
her fingertips grazing his as they both cupped the receiver.
  
"Where are you Agent Mulder?" It was Skinner. His voice
sounded worried enough for Mulder to answer honestly.

"I'm in New York City," he said. "Responding to a call made
by Agent Reyes. In fact, a few minutes ago, I somewhat ran
into her."

"That's impossible," the Assistant Director said.
  
"Why?"

"Because she's standing right in front of me," advised Skinner.
"Demanding to know why her partner didn't show up for work."


To be continued....


Part 10 of ?




"Agent Scully, may I have my gun back?" 

Scully turned around to find Doggett standing by the elevator
of the parking garage.  His expression was grim, suggesting a
controlled anger. Ditching him one was one thing. Taking his
gun off of him was another. Although Doggett was a gentleman,
he was still a cop.  One didn't mess with a cop's ego.

"Sorry about that." Her apology was brief. Doggett wasn't the
type to appreciate flowery language or a drawn-out excuse.
She had a better chance at regaining his trust by being succinct.
After what had just happened, she needed his cooperation more
than ever.

"Don't let it happen again," the detective said, reaching out
to take his gun. "Agent Mulder, are you okay?"

Mulder clicked off his cell phone and joined them. "I might not
have been without Agent Scully and your gun."

"Point taken," Doggett acknowledged. "Look Agent Scully, I'm
not trying to talk down to you."

With one step, Mulder advanced on the detective. "Then don't
let it happen again."

The two men stood a foot apart, testosterone loaded and ready
to fire. Scully wedged herself in between them. "Can we just
call a truce?" she suggested.  "We have enough problems without
adding to them."

Mulder backed off first, much to her relief. "How's your
shoulder, Detective?" he asked in a moderated voice.

"I've taken worse hits," Doggett said, shrugging. "But thanks
for asking."

"Are you officially discharged?" Scully asked.

Doggett glanced around the parking garage as if he was sizing
up the situation. "Yeah," he answered. "I think I've just
discharged myself."

"Are you sure that's wise?" 
 
"It's a heck of a lot smarter than sitting around waiting for
Agent Reyes to return," Doggett noted. "I say we blow this
stitch factory and get some coffee."

The mention of caffeine perked Mulder's interest. "Not another
deli, I hope?"

"Nope," Doggett replied. "Just the best brew in town, courtesy
of my Mr. Coffee Maker."

"Works for me," Mulder concluded. "I'll drive."

"Mulder, wait," she called after him. "I'll go with you."

His ability to drive wasn't her only concern. As they walked
to the rental car, she said, "Skinner's call must cast my
theory in a very point light."

"Is that a question or an observation?"

"I don't know." Scully stopped, burdened by the ambiguity of
his response. "I mean, if Monica Reyes is a replicant, how can
she be in two places at the same time?"

"Defies all standards of credibility, doesn't it?"
 
She exhaled in frustration. In the past, she had practiced
a system of checks and balances with Mulder, providing a
rational counterpoint to each one of his outlandish ideas.
Now that their situations were reversed, she wasn't sure if
she wanted logic or validation.

"Mulder, I never realized how difficult it must have been
for you all these years.  To defy credibility... to believe
in something despite evidence to the contrary...."

"I had you," Mulder stated. He leaned over so his eyes were
level with hers.  "You set the standard of credibility, Scully.
You still do."

Scully gazed down at her boots. "I don't know, Mulder," she
murmured. "The shoe's on the other foot. It's hard to measure
up when I feel like kicking myself."

"Then try driving instead," he suggested, holding out the car
keys.  "Something tells me that those little feet will reach
the pedal now."

It was an old joke, but the symbolism gave her the reassurance
she needed. "Thank you," she whispered, taking the keys.

"For what?"

"For setting a new standard."



**********



John Doggett owned a modest townhouse in Staten Island. Comfort
without style, Scully thought as she entered the living room.
Rugs were scattered across the wood floors to insulate against
the winter chill. There were mismatched pillows on the leather
couch and an ugly cotton afghan draped over a reclining chair.
His desk in the corner was meticulously organized. Everything
was neat and orderly, but aesthetically dull.

At least, the detective also had good taste in coffee. Inside
his spacious kitchen, she watched him pull a bag of Starbucks
from an airtight canister.  He measured the ground beans
into a coffee maker, using bottled water instead of tap.
His efforts met with appreciation from a caffeine-deprived
Mulder. "That smells good," he said.

"Tastes good, too," Doggett remarked. "Pull up a chair,
Agents.  We have a lot to talk about."

While Mulder sank tiredly into a chair, Scully offered to
help the detective. "Where are your coffee cups?"

"In the cabinet over the sink," he told her.
  
Scully opened it, noting more tidiness.  Above the coffee
mugs was a shelf of assorted vitamins, each bottle arranged
alphabetically.  Besides being a neat freak, Doggett was a
health freak.  It was an odd combination, one she tested
further.  "Do you have any Sweet-n-Low, Detective?"

"Artificial sweeteners?" He grimaced.
    
"Forget I asked." She smiled as she closed the cabinet.

"My ex-wife always said it was bad for your health," he
advised. 

"What did she have to say about law enforcement?"

The detective's scowl melted into a grin.  "You don't sugar
coat things, do you Agent Scully?"

"No," she said, passing him the mugs. "Nor do I take sugar
in my coffee."

"Then talk straight to me about my son," Doggett requested.
"You think he's still alive?"

"I don't know," she answered him honestly.  "But the
possibility exists that your son was abducted, not
kidnapped."

"By little men in green suits?" he jeered. 

"Or little men in white labcoats," Mulder replied.
"What we need to figure out is why your son was taken.
Can you tell us about him, Detective?"

"There's not much to tell." Doggett filled a mug and passed
it to Scully. "Luke was the perfect kid, active... healthy...
He wasn't sick a day in his life."

Scully glanced down at her coffee, blowing to cool it.  Terms
such as 'perfect' and 'never sick' held important meanings
in her vocabulary.  Unfortunately, the same words held dire
implications, none of which Doggett was prepared to accept.
"What about Agent Reyes?" she asked, changing the subject.
"How did she become involved in the search for your son?"

"The Bureau sent her to assist in the investigation," Doggett
explained. "At first, I thought she was kinda wacko.  I mean,
you know the type."

Scully took a tentative sip. "What type is that?"

"Spooky..." 

Scully almost choked on the hot liquid.  Lifting her fingers
to her lips, she glanced over at Mulder.  He was completely
unruffled, if not somewhat amused.  "In what way?" he asked.

Doggett looped his fingers through the handles of the two
remaining mugs and carried them over to the table.  After
taking out a pint of light cream from the refrigerator, he
sat down. Pouring some in his coffee, he said, "She kept
telling me to get in touch with my feelings, that the
answers would come once I was willing to embrace my fears."

Scully cleared her throat. "Do you know what she meant?"

"Nope," he said. "But it sure as hell pissed off my ex-wife.
She demanded that Agent Reyes be taken off the investigation.
Of course, I didn't do it.  While Monica's approach was
strange, there was something about her investigative style
that seemed to balance out my own."

Scully understood exactly what he was saying. "Checks and
balances," she murmured to herself.
  
"Yeah?" Doggett looked up. "Well, maybe I should have listened
to her. From what you've told me, Agent Reyes tried to balance
the equation by checking me out."

"Do you have the ballistics on the bullet yet?" she asked.

"Forensics called this morning," Doggett said. "No match
found in the database."

"I'm not surprised," Mulder said as he reached across the table
for a bowl of sugar. While he stirred in several spoonfuls,
Scully wondered if he intended to sweeten up her theory or
dissolve it.  

"In terms of an equation, I think we're dealing with a sum
divided," he remarked. "Two opposite versions of the same
person."

"A dual personality?" the detective asked.

"No."  Mulder put down his spoon. "Two distinct replicas, 
one of which seems to have inherited Monica Reyes better
traits... an inclination to protect instead of destroy."

"You may be on to something," Scully said. "That certainly
would explain the 911 call and today's hospital visit. 
Mulder, if the replicant wanted to seriously harm you, she
would have."

"Wait a minute," Doggett interrupted. "We've gone from kinda
wacko to an alien girl scout?"

"It's just a theory, Detective," said Mulder.

"And a bizarre one at that," he retorted.  "I mean we're
talking clones here."

"The technology for cloning already exists," Scully said.
"You can read about it in any newspaper."

"I don't have to," he argued. "My ex-wife used to work in
genetics. According to her, science is still trying to clone
human embryos, not fully grown federal agents."

The mug slipped from Scully's hand. It broke on the linoleum
floor, splattering hot coffee on her boots and slacks. While
her skin wasn't burned, her brain felt like it was on fire.
She gasped and fumbled for the counter.  Both men jumped up
from the table to help her. As Doggett grabbed paper towels,
Mulder knelt down to examine her legs.  

"I'm fine." Scully took a step back from his probing fingers.
When he glanced up, she held out her hand in an effort to
steady her shaken nerves.  "No really, Mulder. I'm fine.
I just need a moment to clean myself up. Detective, may I
use your bathroom?"

"Down the hall and to the right," Doggett said. "You sure,
Agent Scully?  That coffee was pretty hot."

She forced a sheepish grin. "No burns, just stains. Serves me
right for being so clumsy."

Avoiding Mulder's stare, she left the kitchen and hurried down
the hall to the bathroom.  Once behind closed doors, she turned
on the sink to disguise the noise of search.  She opened the
vanity, discovering more vitamins.  "Retrieval clues," she 
whispered to herself.

She scavenged the cabinet for prescription bottles... anything
with his ex-wife's name on it.  A label on an expired bottle
of Xanac gave her what she was looking for.
 
Elizabeth Doggett...

Stuffing the bottle in her pocket, Scully opened an adjacent
door to the master bedroom.  On the dresser was a family
portrait that must have been taken a few years before Luke's
disappearance. She stared at the woman in the picture, not
seeing a loving mother but the nurse who had once threatened
her chance at motherhood.

"Oh my God," she repeated over and over.  The sound of her 
shocked voice couldn't compete with the silent scream of her
mind.

It was Lizzie Gill. 


*********



"Here, let me do that," Mulder said as Doggett leaned over to
pick up pieces of glass. The detective gave him a sharp look,
causing him to lift his hands in surrender. "Fine, you want
to be territorial over a coffee mug?  Go for it."

Doggett used a wad of paper towels to clean up the mess. "I may
be injured, but I'm not incapacitated."

"Tell it to your gun arm," Mulder replied. "Detective, you're
in no shape to protect yourself."

"Ever serve in the military, Agent Mulder?"

Mulder leaned back against the counter and folded his arms.
"Let me guess.  While wounded, you managed to single handedly
rescue your entire unit and then serve coffee in the mess tent."

"You forgot the part about seducing the nurse," Doggett added
sarcastically.

"Did your wife?"

"The nurse became my wife," Doggett stated. "You're a real
smart ass, aren't you, Agent Mulder?"

"Depends on which word you're putting the emphasis on,
Detective."

Doggett stood up and dumped the paper towels in the trash. 
"I'll go with smart because I don't have a choice. I need
answers about my boy. From what I understand, you're the best
man for the job."

"So you've been checking up on me," Mulder commented.

"Your nickname really caught my interest," advised Doggett.

Mulder nodded to himself. The 'spooky' insult had just hit
its intended target.
  
"Look, Agent Mulder. I'm not trying to bust your balls, but
my ex-wife is off limits."

"So is my partner."

"Partner? From what I understand, Agent Scully is no longer
employed by the FBI."

He'd been checking up on Scully, too. Mulder gave the man a
disparaging look. "Let's put it this way, Detective.  The Bureau
doesn't give a damn if we ever find your son.  Agent Scully does."

"Which is why our dealings will remain confidential," said
Doggett.  "If the two of you are willing to go out on a limb,
so am I."

"Mulder..."  The sound of Scully's voice diverted his attention.
She was standing outside of the kitchen, gripping the corner of
the wall. The color had completely drained from her face, her
pale skin eclipsed by the stark blue of her eyes.  She looked
like she was going to faint.
 
He caught her before she did.


To be continued....
 
Author's Notes:  This chapter was completed prior to the tragedy
in Washington D.C. and New York City.  Please note that there
are references to conspiracy and arson.  Any similiarity of content
is unintentional and not meant to be offensive. 


Part 11 of ?



Scully woke to the feel of cold washcloths, one across her eyes
and two wrapped around her legs.  It was an uncomfortable way
to be revived, both chilly and embarrassing.  She was lying on
the detective's couch with her slacks rolled up to her knees
and her head supported by one of his tacky throw pillows.
Her elbows gouged cheap leather as she tried to sit up.

"Take it easy." The voice belonged to Doggett, but the hands
that tried to restrain her were Mulder's. The washcloth slipped
down to her neck and she found the two men hovering over her.
Both of them looked genuinely concerned. Only one of them
was to be trusted.

"Mulder," she said in a hoarse voice.  "What happened?"

"You fainted." He slid a supportive arm around her back. "Why
didn't you tell us that your legs were burned?"

"Are they?" Scully asked.  She leaned forward to examine them.
Beneath the washcloths, several blisters had formed on her
reddened skin.  The hot coffee...  In her panic, she hadn't
even noticed the pain.  She certainly wasn't going to focus
on it now. "It's not that bad."

"Bad enough for you to keel over," assessed Doggett. When he
reached down to replace the washcloths, she drew her legs up
to her chest.

"I'm fine, really," she insisted, not wanting him to touch her.
"Mulder, can you take me back to the hotel?"

Mulder studied her expression.  Whatever he saw prompted him
to scoop her up in his arms. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No hospital," she whispered to him.  "Just get me out of
here."

She held on to Mulder's neck as he carried her outside. Over
his shoulder, she saw Doggett follow with the ugly afghan. 
Once inside the car, he leaned over to tuck it around her legs.
Cringing, she turned her head away.  It was bad enough she
had to endure the feel of his hand.  She would not suffer
the insult of his eyes.
 
"Keep me posted," Doggett said, closing the door.

Scully reached around to lock it. "Yeah, so you can keep
your wife posted?" she sneered. While the glass of the window
blocked the sound of her scorn, Mulder picked up on it
instantly.

"What did you say?" he asked, turning on the ignition.

"Nothing," she muttered. "Drive, Mulder... just drive."

Mulder must have sensed the urgency in her voice because he
floored the accelerator.  Unfortunately, it didn't prevent
him from stopping the car once it turned the corner. "Okay,
Scully," he said, shifting the gear into park. "What the
hell happened back there?"

Scully didn't answer him. She struggled against her seatbelt
which prevented her hand from digging into her pocket.
 
"Looking for these?"
   
Scully glanced over to find him shaking a prescription bottle.
"Mulder, it's not what you think."

"You stole a bottle of sedatives," he accused.

"An expired prescription of Xanac," she defended. "Take a look
at the name on the label."

He did so, shrugging. "Elizabeth Doggett. I assume that they
belonged to his ex-wife."

"Lizzie Gill," Scully corrected. "In my dreams, she was the
nurse my mother hired to take care of me.  Except she wasn't
a nurse.  She was a research scientist who tried to drug me."
  
"Drug you?" Mulder asked. "With what?"

"Pre-natal vitamins," she murmured, dropping her gaze. His
distrust stung her more than the burns on her legs.
 
"Vitamins," he repeated. "Scully, do you realize how crazy
this sounds?"

"The vitamins were a retrieval clue," Scully said. "Mulder,
I saw a picture of her inside Doggett's bedroom. Lizzie Gill
is... or was... Elizabeth Doggett. If you check out her maiden
name, I bet this won't sound so crazy."

"Fine," he agreed. "But first, we get you checked out at the
emergency room."

Two hours later, Scully stared at the hospital ceiling while
a nurse wrapped her legs in loose gauze.  She had sustained
second degree burns above each ankle, but the diameter of
each blister was less than an inch. It was hardly worth a trip
to the hospital.  In fact, according to the nurse, she could
have treated the burns herself.

"Tell it to him," she responded, pointing to the man in the
doorway.
  
Mulder walked over to the exam table and reached down to
stroke her hair. "So I'm a little over-protective."

"Just a little?" She grimaced as she sat up. "Okay, Mulder.
I checked out.  Now what about Elizabeth Doggett?"

Mulder waited for the nurse to leave the room. He pushed aside
the dressing tray and sat down beside her. "You were right,
Scully.  Nurse Ratchet is the former Elizabeth Gill. She works
for Zeus Genetics in Maryland."

"Zeus Genetics," she murmured. "In my dream, Zeus Genetics
was trying to clone humans with alien DNA.  They were
funded by the government in an effort to create some type
of super soldier."

"Looks like they did," Mulder said.
 
"Agent Reyes?"

He nodded. "Scully, do you remember what you said about
replicants?"

"Yes, but the replicants were alien replacements for human
beings.  They were created to aid in the colonization
process."

"Our government may have genetically engineered clones to
combat their threat," Mulder said.  "The question is which one
inherited Monica Reyes' altruistic nature, replicant or clone?"

"Something tells me that Elizabeth Doggett knows. For that reason,
we can't trust her ex-husband. Mulder, he could be in on this."

"Doggett could just be a pawn in a very dangerous game," Mulder
countered. "Which is why one of the Reyes twins is trying to
protect him."

Scully sighed and buried her face in her hands. "God, I just
don't know what to believe anymore."

"You're exhausted," he said. "It's time for you to step back,
Scully.  The closer you get to the truth the more dangerous
it is for you."

"What do you mean?" she asked, glancing up at him.
  
"These fainting spells of yours..." Mulder paused to skim
the bangs away from her eyes. "I think your brain is starting
to short circuit.  With every connection you make, there is
something trying to counteract it.  For all we know, you
could have been programmed never to learn the truth and
your body is responding to that warning."

His theory frightened her.  She rubbed the back of her neck,
not because it ached but due to the chip embedded beneath
her skin. "Now which one of us sounds crazy?" She gave
him a shaky laugh. "It's only vertigo, Mulder."

"Maybe," he considered. "But I'm not willing to take that
chance. We're flying back to D.C. tonight.  You're going to
spend the next few days in bed, even if I have to handcuff
you to it."

"Were not back to that again, are we?"

"Only if you fight me on this," he stated. "But I don't think
you will.  Deep down, you know that I'm right."

Deep down, Scully also knew that it was easier to play along.
The last thing she needed was an around-the-clock babysitter.
Although his intentions were good, her objectives were clear.
The minute he left for work tomorrow, she would pick up the
trail where she left off.  She would track down Elizabeth
Doggett.
  


**********  



The next morning, Mulder called Scully from his car. "Are
you behaving yourself?" he teased.

"Always," she answered in an innocent voice. "Where are you?"

"I'm on my way to investigate a fire," he said. "Turn on the
television, Scully.  There's something you may want to watch."

"Hang on..."

While he waited, Mulder pulled out his badge. Up ahead, a
police officer was directing traffic away from the smoldering
building.  He inched his car up to the road block and rolled
down his window. "FBI," he announced, nodding as the officer
flagged him on.

"It's on channel ten," she relayed. "They're showing exclusive
footage of a medical research clinic. It's... Mulder, it's Zeus
Genetics."

"Burned down last night in what firefighters describe as
an accelerated blaze," he said, parking his car behind a row
of fire trucks. "Typical of arson."

"Typical of this conspiracy."  There was a note of cynicism
in her voice. "I don't suppose there's anything left of the
building."

Mulder opened his car door and got out. He scanned the area.
All that remained was charred steel and rubble. "Doesn't look
that way."

"What about victims?"

"That's what I intend to find out," he advised.

"From what I understand, the facility is staffed 24/7."

"And how would you know that?" Mulder asked her. He turned
around to face the car, trying to filter out the noise of
the fire trucks. ""What are you doing, Scully? You're supposed
to be off your feet, not sneaking around behind my back."

"Since when does someone have to stand to make a few phone
calls?"
  
"Damn it," Mulder swore. "You promised."

"Promised what?" she retorted. "To sit here twiddling my thumbs
until you give the thumbs up?  I agreed to take a step back,
not come to a dead stop.  I told you once before, Mulder.  When
it comes to our son,  I don't care what it takes or who I piss
off."

"Does that includes me, Scully?"

Without pausing, she hung up.

"Shit," he cursed. Once again, he had underestimated her.  He
should have known that she would be unwilling to accept a lesser
role in the search for their son. After all, it was her strength
and intuitiveness that had led them this far. Without her, there
would be no clues to follow or fires to investigate.
  
He would have to learn how to balance concern with respect. She
was his equal.  Instead of saying it, he would have to prove it.
He couldn't hand her the car keys and then snatch them back at
the first road hazard.

After speaking with the Fire Marshall, Mulder drove back to
their apartment.  He opened the front door to find Scully
stretched out on the couch with cold compresses on her legs.
She was dressed in a short nightgown, the apricot silk
accentuating the highlights of her hair.
  
"Hey," Mulder said in a chagrined voice.

"Hey," she said back, her tone matching his.

He closed the door and locked it behind him. "How are you
feeling?"

"A little sore."
 
"As in aggravated?"

"Only with myself." She held out her hand, gesturing
for him to join her. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I shouldn't have hung
up on you like that."

"It's okay," he replied, walking around the couch.  "It gave
me the chance to take my foot out of my mouth."

Scully lifted her legs so he could sit down.  Once he did,
she draped them across his lap. "It's not your fault, Mulder.
I'm trying too hard to be like you."

"Why?" he asked, rubbing the soles of her feet.

"Because I admire your tenacity... your relentlessness," she
said.  "Nothing stops you, Mulder, not even death."

Mulder didn't answer her. Scully's eyes were reflective and
her voice had dropped off to a whisper.  He waited for her to
complete her thought, which she did in a dreamlike musing.
"Maybe your resurrection was meant to be symbolic.  Not in
religious terms, but in a figurative sense... that there is a
certain omnipotence to mankind's will."

"What about your own?"

"That's the problem," she murmured. "There is no strength in
a will divided.  One half of me wants to accept this world.  
The other half doesn't.  By trying to be like you, I was able
to avoid the paradox of my own existence."

Mulder considered his response carefully.  How could he argue
an illusion that was once her reality?  Did he even want to?
He had come to rely on the alternate woman as much as the
real one. He didn't want to lose the other Scully with her
mysterious gaze and keen insight.  It would be like losing
a window into his soul. 

He tried to respond on an intellectual level, but words of
reason were muted by an outburst of emotion.  "Scully, while
you were gone, part of me was dead," he told her. "I kept
searching for you, willing for you to return and breathe life
back into me."

Her lips were inches from his. "Like this?" she whispered.
  
Mulder couldn't stop himself. He pried open her lips, desperate
to inhale her, to permeate his consciousness with the essence of
her being.  He moaned as she drew his tongue deep inside her
mouth.  It was more than a kiss.  She was reviving him, 
replenishing him, encouraging him to take what he needed. He did
so with a certain amount of greed and definite lack
of restraint. Pushing down the straps of her nightgown, he arched
her over the back of his arm.  Like a hungry infant, he latched
on to the nipple of her breast. Fortunately, her whimpers
of delight reminded him that he was man. A man who needed to give
as much in this universe as he needed to receive.

Mulder knelt on the floor beside the couch.  He carefully slid
her panties down her legs before turning her to face him.
Draping her knees over his shoulders, he bent over and kissed
the inner flesh of her thighs. She was quivering with expectation.
So was he.  He parted her damp curls with his fingers, gliding
one inside of her as he sucked on her clit. For each pull of
his mouth, she bore down on his hand. Tantalized, he replaced
his finger with the brunt of his tongue. He darted it in and out,
stopping only to guzzle her warm, musky juices.
 
"Mulder, please..."

She was close. He rose up on his knees and jerked down the zipper
of his slacks.  She gasped, not with surprise but approval. Her
legs were too short to rest comfortably on his shoulders, so she
wrapped them around his waist. He cupped her backside in the palms
of his hands and lifted her to meet his first thrust. 

Her eyes were closed, but it didn't matter. He was mesmerized by
the intensity of her words.  She begged him to fuck her .. to split
her in two like an atom... two molecular parts... two distinct
beings....

He was doing as she asked, thrusting so hard that his thoughts
couldn't keep up with the hammering of his body. He wanted to
stop, but he couldn't. She was slipping away from him, her
arousal dripping down his fingers and saturating his mind. He
tightened his grip, trying to hold her... preserve her...
impale her... keep her....
  
She cried out in pain then screamed with pleasure.  

He cried out in pleasure then screamed with pain. 

He had torn apart the imaginary from the real.  He had lost
her, the alternate woman with her mesmeric gaze and vision
into his psyche.  

Before his knees collapsed, Scully pulled him against her. She
held him to her breast as he shuddered through the death throes
of his orgasm. "It's okay," she panted. "I'm still here, Mulder.
The better part of me is still here."

Mulder lifted his face, tears blinding his eyes. "Which part
is that?"

He felt her lips against his lashes. "The other half of your
soul," she whispered.


To be continued....
 

And a new world will begin 
Living twice at once you learn
You're safe from pain in the dream domain 
A soul set free to fly 
A round trip journey in your head 
Master of illusion, can you realize 
Your dream's alive
You can be the guide...




Part 12 of ?



"Good morning," Mulder said from the doorway.

Inside the Bureau's Analysis Center, Reyes pulled a charred
piece of equipment from a plastic bag. "Is it?" she asked. 
"This is not how I planned to spend my Saturday morning,
Agent Mulder."
 
"Sorry about that," Mulder replied.  He didn't bother to hide
the insincerity in his voice. "I didn't say you had to come and
do it by yourself."

Reyes glanced at her nails. She flicked off a piece of ash and
rose to her feet. "Your former partner put you onto to this,
didn't she?"

Before Mulder could respond, his cell phone rang.  It was Scully.
"Mulder, the local PD has contacted everyone at Zeus Genetics
with one exception," she advised. "Dr. Lev, the head of clinical
research, is still missing."

"Interesting," he murmured into the phone.
  
"There's more."  Scully's voice took on a note of hesitation.
"His co-founder is Dr. Parenti, the same specialist I consulted
about in-vitro fertilization.  Mulder, I'm going to his office.
It's located at 625 Oakhurst Avenue in College Park.  Can you
meet me?"

"I'll be right there," Mulder told her. Clicking off the phone,
he confronted the woman standing in front of him. "You were
saying?"

"Dana Scully is no longer employed by the Bureau," Reyes said in
a curt voice.  "You don't have to answer to her, Agent Mulder."

"And who do you answer to, Agent Reyes?"

"Excuse me?"

"When it comes to the X-files, who do you answer to?"

The pupils of her eyes narrowed to two pinpoints of black. "I
thought we were partners."

"You thought wrong," he said, turning to leave. "Enjoy your
Saturday, Agent Reyes."

Within the hour, Mulder arrived at the Parenti Medical Group.
He expected to find Scully's car, but wasn't alarmed that the
parking lot was empty.  She was running late.  Despite her
attempts to keep up in this investigation, she was slowing
down.  The burns to her legs had to be painful.  Before he
left that morning, he spied her limping.  She joked that her
awkward gait was his fault. But he knew better. It had
nothing to do with their marathon of sex.  Her fatigue was
the result of a prolonged search that seemed as futile as it 
was draining.

He resisted the temptation to call.  To do so would signal
distrust and compromise her ability to regain equal footing
with him. In this universe, strength was resilience.  The
runner might stumble, but she also got back up. If he forced
her to the sidelines, an observer rather than participant, she
would be forever crippled by his uncertainty.

The best way for him to outdistance anxiety was for him to
stay one step ahead of it.  He decided not to wait, but snoop
around.  Inside the building, he picked the lock to Dr. Parenti's
office.  The tiny click of the door made him grin.  The voice
behind him made him jump.
  
"Got a search warrant, Agent Mulder?"

He turned around to find John Doggett.

"What brings you all the way from New York, Detective?" he asked,
motioning towards the man's sling. "Let me guess, a doctor's
appointment."

Doggett ignored his snide remark and glanced around the hallway.
"More like a phone call from my ex-wife.  Elizabeth asked me to
fly down here.  She believes her life may be in danger."

"And like any good cop, you're here to serve and protect,"
Mulder taunted. "The question is who?"

"What are you sayin', Agent Mulder?"

"That there are no coincidences in this universe," he replied.
"Not with your ex-wife in it."

"You think Elizabeth is somehow involved in all of this?"

Mulder opened the office door to a vacant reception area. "Don't
ask me, Detective," he cautioned. "Ask yourself."

"Right," Doggett snickered as he followed him inside. "We get
caught in here and we won't be the ones askin' questions."

"We're just having a look around," Mulder said.  He glanced
past the reception area.  "See your ex-wife?"

"Nope," the detective remarked as they moved down a dimly lit
hallway. Mulder heard him rattle one knob after the next. "Just
one too many locked doors for a doctor's office."

Mulder held up his lock pick.

Doggett pulled out a pocket knife. 

Before he could blink, the detective had the door open. "Boys
in Blue teach you that?" Mulder asked.

"The boys in the Bronx...."

Unfortunately, street smarts didn't measure up to the horrors
of science.  As Mulder turned on the lights, the detective
pointed to the shelves.  "What the hell are inside those jars?"
 
"Examples of your ex-wife's research," he advised. "Human/alien
fetuses... our government's baby steps at creating a super
soldier."

"Christ," Doggett murmured, shaking his head.  "Elizabeth told
me she worked for a pharmaceutical company."

Mulder gave him a sympathetic glance. "She lied, Detective. The
question is... what else did she lie about?  Your son?"  

Stunned, Doggett retreated to the hallway.  Before his back hit
the wall, the wall hit him.  An explosion of plaster sent the
detective flying.  He landed at Mulder's feet, crumpled into a
ball.

"Shit," Mulder cursed, drawing his gun.
   
Behind the cloud of dust was Monica Reyes.  Her dark eyes flashed
a warning as she picked debris from beneath her nails.

"Stop right there, Agent Reyes."

Reyes ignored the threat of his gun, advancing on him.

"Stop there or I'll shoot."

The first bullet winged her shoulder.  The second shot hit
her mid-chest.  Undaunted, she knelt down beside the unconscious
detective.  With a bloodied hand, she stroked his hair.  Shocked,
Mulder pointed the gun at her head, staring at the bumps on the
back of her neck.  They were pulsating with energy.  It was as
if her spine had a life of it's own.
 
"What are you?" 

She didn't answer, but the emotion in her eyes told him all he
needed to know. Tears. They were as profound as the blood already
dried on her shirt. Alien technology made her invincible, but human
emotion made her vulnerable.  In this universe, Scully wasn't the
paradox.  She was....

"You care for him," he accused, lowering his gun.

"You must leave this building," Reyes whispered.  Behind her
tears was a glint of desperation. "She's coming..."

"Who?"

"Your partner...."

"An hour ago, you insisted we were partners," Mulder said.

"An hour from now, you'll understand," she predicted. "One
seeks to protect.  The other seeks to destroy."

Over her shoulder, the dust cloud was settling. Through the
hole in the wall, Mulder saw a man's severed head. "Dr. Parenti,
I presume?"

When she didn't respond, Mulder lifted his gun and tightened
his finger on the trigger. "Okay, one seeks to protect...the
other destroys.  Which one are you?"

"The one who destroys in order to protect."


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



Scully limped back to her bathroom.  Despite her efforts to catch
up with Mulder, pain had become a hurdle. She could barely walk,
much less jump.  A blister on her leg had burst, trickling
infection down her ankle.  Her jeans were stained a noticeable
black. By trying to keep up, she had crippled herself.

She wondered if her pain was a symptom of a worse disease, an
inflammation of her psyche.  She couldn't see past her own need
to prove herself, not just in bed but in the field. Closing
the door to the other universe had been her last attempt at
distinction.  She had lost her job and credentials. Mulder had
come to desire the 'other woman', the one with a mesmeric gaze
and sharp intuition.  

Her alter ego had become her opponent.

Scully reached into the vanity and pulled out a bottle of
antibiotic creme. Propping her foot on the side of the bathtub,
she pulled up the cuff of her jeans.  Her fingers moved quickly
to spread the cream over the oozing blister. She forced the
overlying skin into temporary dressing.  

Later, she would seek medical attention.  For now, she needed
to heal her sense of self-worth.

She closed the vanity only to find herself staring into the
mirror. Her reflection was fading. Gripping the edge of the sink,
she felt an overwhelming sense of panic.  The sting in her leg
was spreading up her body, paralyzing her with an anesthetic
numbness.   

Scully fumbled for the tube of antibiotic cream before falling to
the floor. She realized that she was the one who had mislabeled
the truth. Her alter ego was never her opponent. The woman who
stood above her was...

Lizzy Gill.


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


Mulder opened the door to Scully's apartment, helping Doggett
inside. He had regained consciousness despite the gash to his
temple. "If you ask me, Reyes was wacked out on something," the
detective grumbled. "Whatever it was, she's feelin' no pain."

"Ask me, and Reyes isn't who you think she is."
 
"Oh, don't tell me she's an alien," Doggett groaned.

"She is a type of alien," posed Mulder. "A replacement who not
only looks human, but possesses human weakness."

"Weakness?" the detective asked. "Did you her break through
that wall?"

"I'm not talking about physical strength," he said. "I'm talking
about emotional vulnerability.  She has feelings for you,
Detective.  I believe we've discovered her Achilles Heel."

"Well, next time try aiming for her foot."

Mulder grinned and called out to the bedroom, "Is there a doctor
in the house?"

When there was no answer, Doggett murmured. "Sounds like I'm
gonna have to settle for a bag of ice from your freezer."

"No," Mulder replied, easing the detective onto the couch. "Her
car is still parked outside."

He quickly searched their apartment. With each empty room, he
felt a strange feeling of dread.  Like a retrieval clue, Reyes
words replayed inside of his mind. "An hour from now, you'll
understand..."

"God, no...." he prayed to himself. "Don't let them have taken
her from me."

In the bathroom, he discovered a smear of antibiotic cream on
the tiled floor.  He knelt down, gazing in horror at the message
traced through it.
  
"Dream of me...." 

He felt his soul splitting in two.  His scream was no longer 
silent.  It was the sound of her name.



**********


Scully woke to the comfort of her bed.  She stretched out on
the quilted bedspread, rubbing her cheek against a soft, plush
pillow. The scent of talcum powder drifted like perfume. Breathing
deeply, she smiled.  It was Saturday morning and the golden light
that streamed through the curtains promised a sunny day. Compared
to the darkness of her dream, this was a blissful reality.

From her bathroom, she could hear the shower.  Mulder was already
getting ready for work.  Last night, the Fire Marshall had sent
debris from Zeus Genetics to the Bureau's Analysis Center.  Today,
they would scavenge through it for clues of conspiratorial foul
play.
  
The prospect of working with him again energized her.  Legs,
feeble from recent burns and hours of lovemaking, felt as good
as new.  She swung them to the side of the bed, startled to find
them covered in silk.  She was wearing maternity pajamas, the
buttons of her shirt open to reveal her swollen breasts.

A tiny whimper on the other side of the room suddenly stained
the silk over her nipples.  Glancing over her shoulder, she
saw the pine crib and the dangling mobile. "Oh my God," she
whispered.

Mulder walked into the bedroom with a towel around his waist
and dripping water onto the floor.  "What is it, Scully?"

"This can't be happening...."
 
"What can't be happening?" he asked, running a hand through
his wet hair.

Scully hurried to the side of the crib and gripped the railing.
Snuggled in a cotton blanket was their son. She could see him...
hear him.... touch him... 

"William!" She cried out his name in a mixture of joy and pain.

The dream wasn't over.  It had just begun.

 

 

To be continued....

Part 13 of ?

"She's gone."

Skinner didn't say a word, but the clenching of his jaw
told Mulder all he needed to know.  The news of Scully's
disappearance wasn't a surprise to the Assistant Director.
Judging by his glistening forehead, he was sweating more
than the exertion of a night at the gym.

"I can't help you, Agent Mulder."

"Can't... or won't?" The question didn't come from him, but
the detective standing in the corner.  Despite his injuries,
Doggett had insisted on attending this unofficial meeting.
 
"I suggest you drop it."  Skinner's look was directed at
Doggett, but his message was intended for Mulder.  "I wish
I could help you, but Agent Scully is no longer employed
with the Bureau."

"Agent Mulder still is," Doggett persisted. "And he reported
several crimes that fall within the FBI's jurisdiction. What
about the death of Dr. Parenti?"

"What about a body?" Skinner countered. "The task force sent
down to Dr. Parenti's office found no evidence of criminal
activity.  No victim... no proof of illegal cloning
experiments...  All they found was a trashed doctor's office
covered with both of your fingerprints."

"This is bullshit," scoffed the detective. "We've been set
up by one of the intergalactic double-mint twins."

"Excuse me?" 

"Agent Reyes," Mulder clarified. "Sir, we're dealing with two
versions of the same person, an alien replicant and genetically
engineered clone."

"Well, the only Agent Reyes that I'm aware of was sifting
through arson debris while the two of you were playing
'breaking and entering'," Skinner advised. "Mulder, there
are eyewitnesses who place her at the FBI's evidence lab
this morning."

"What about this afternoon?"

"Agent Reyes was in a meeting with Deputy Director Kersch,
during which I was present when she reported her initial
findings."

"Let me guess," Doggett interjected. "No evidence or arson
at Zeus Genetics."

Skinner dropped his gaze to his desk. "You catch on quickly,
Detective."

"So do I," Mulder commented as he gave his supervisor a cynical
look. "They got to you, didn't they?"

The Assistant Director removed the towel draped around his
shoulders and mopped his forehead.  For a man who had just
spent hours toning muscles, his posture was noticeably slumped.
He didn't appear exhausted.  He looked defeated. 

"Later than you think," Skinner admitted sadly. "But sooner
than I anticipated."


**********


"Do you think she dreams?" 

"I'm sure she dreams." 

"About what, I wonder?"

There was a pause before the man's answer, long enough for
Scully to recognize his voice and the sound of his contemplation.
It wasn't just an intake of breath.  It was a heady draw of
nicotine.

"The dreams all women who are owned by the world have... a
simpler life... full of small pleasures. Extraordinary women
are always most tempted by the most ordinary things...."

Scully opened her eyes to discover a horrifying truth. Her
alternate universe was really an underground lab. Rather than
lying safely in her bed, she was strapped to a gurney.  Turning
her head to the side, she watched Elizabeth Doggett administer
an injection.  The sting of the needle didn't compare to the
pain of her reality.

She couldn't speak, but the scream inside of her reverberated
her entire being.  

"Dreams are all she has now," he concluded, leaning over to
stroke her hair.

The stench of his fingers made her jerk away.

Cigarette Smoking Man...

As the drug started to take effect, Scully searched for a
way to remember the moment before it was it was taken away from
her. A retrieval clue... She needed something to distinguish fact
from fantasy.  Struggling against the restraints, she could think
of nothing.  She was imprisoned, not only by cold, leather straps
but by the warm, dizzying effects of a hallucinogen. The contrast
made her bite the fragile tissue inside her lip. 

The taste of her own blood...  

As the salt flavored her tongue, an idea took shape in her mind.   

 
*********


"What do we do now?" Doggett asked him outside of the Hoover
Building.
  
Mulder glanced up at the night sky.  He had once tracked the
stars hoping that one of them would lead him to her.  How stupid
he had been to trust a mythology of his own making. His mind had
tricked him to feel the pain of an alien abduction.  But it was
far easier to blame an unseen enemy rather than himself.
  
He had known for a long time that his genetic make-up was
integral to the evolution of mankind. What the Syndicate
couldn't steal, they sought to create... not in the sterile
confines of a lab, but the womb of a woman desperate to bear
a child.  He should have warned Scully of this possibility.
Instead, he allowed his own desire to defeat them both. He
loved Scully.  He would do anything for her.  But when in
vitro failed and he spoke of miracles, he wasn't referring to
conception.  He was praying that one type of his DNA would
prevail over the other.

"Agent Mulder?"

He turned to the detective and sighed.  "It's time to sleep." 

"You're kiddin' me, right?" Doggett rubbed the bandage over
his temple.  When Mulder didn't respond, he continued, "Where
I come from, cops don't sleep.  We don't stop lookin' until the
missing person is found."

"Who said I intend to stop looking?" Mulder asked.

"Think you'll find her with your head on a fluffy pillow?"

"I'll find her where all of this began."

"Where might that be?"

"In my dreams..." he whispered.


**********


Scully stirred to a familiar hand, gentle and scented with
talcum powder.  She could hear the sound of tranquility... her
baby's even breathing... her partner's soothing whisper.  How
easy it was to drift to this simple resonance of life.  For
years, she had ignored many small pleasures in lieu of the grand
scheme.  She had sacrificed her needs as a woman to prove herself
worthy of competing in a man's world.  A distinguishing career...
the admiration of her peers... such cold comfort in the night as
ambition slept and yearning awakened.
   
"True discernment doesn't always come too late," she heard him 
murmur.  "You have the opportunity to change your life, to
visualize it as you want it to be."

Scully kept her eyes closed.  "Like you did, Mulder?" she asked.

"We're all tempted by hundreds of little joys," he relayed.  She
felt his lips graze hers.  His kiss no longer tasted sweet but
of blood recklessly spent in pursuit of his own obsession. No
wonder they were soul mates.  They shared the same fervent desires
and the inability to see past them. In this universe they were
perfectly and tragically matched.  

"This is not what I want," she suddenly announced. "This isn't
the life I was meant to live."

"What are you saying, Scully?"

"I need to fight the fight. I cannot lie safely in my bed with
the devil outside."

"You don't understand," he protested. "He's taking care of you."

Scully tasted the blood on her lips. It wasn't his. It was hers.
"No, Mulder.  Like you, he lulled me to sleep.  But it was my own
doubts and insecurities that keep me there.  I need to wake up.
Mulder, I need you to help me wake up."
 
"Then open your eyes," he said.  "I think you're ready to see..."

She woke to a dimly lit room and the sound of hesitant footsteps.
The straps on the gurney prevented her from moving, but her eyes
were free to engage the startling blue ones of the adolescent boy
who stood before her.

"I've seen you before," she whispered.

The boy nodded before glancing over his shoulder. "They talk
about you a lot.  You confuse them.  That's why they brought
you back."

"Why do I confuse them?"

"You can see things... do things while you sleep.  My mom thinks
it's some type of remote viewing.  She says you can transcend time
and space."

"Your mom..." Scully paused to lick her lips. The blood had
congealed into a clot inside her mouth.  Taking a deep breath,
she asked.  "Is your name Luke?"

"I need you to get a message to my dad," the boy pleaded. "He
thinks I'm dead, but I'm not. I've never been more alive."

She had used the same words when describing Mulder mysterious
brain activity.  Lifting up her head, she met the boy's
desperate gaze.  "I can help you, Luke, but you need to help me
first.  I want you to unfasten these straps."

"I can't," Luke murmured. "They'll stop you, just like they
always stop me."

Exhaling in frustration, she let her head fall back against
the pillow.  She studied the limestone walls of the room. 
"What is this place?  Some type of underground facility?"

The boy pointed to the ceiling. "We were born above, but we
now live below."

Scully considered the riddle of his words. "Who's 'we'?" she
asked.

"I was the first, but for a long time they only suspected
that I was somehow different," he relayed. "They weren't
totally sure until your baby was born."

"William?" she gasped.  "He's here?"

"My mom says that they keep us here to protect us." Luke's
voice dropped to a confidential whisper.  "But I know better.
The ones who seek to protect are really the ones who plan
to destroy."

Fighting her own sense of panic, Scully said, "Luke, listen
to me. You have to undo these straps. If I'm not free, I can't
help you."

"Close your eyes," the boy instructed as he backed his way to
the door. "Close your eyes and you'll free us all."


*********


The next morning, Mulder woke in a cold sweat. Reaching for the
phone on Scully's nightstand, he called the hotel where John
Doggett was staying.

"It's five o'clock in the morning," the detective grumbled. 
"This had better be good, Agent Mulder."

"Tell me about Luke," he said urgently.

"What?"

"We don't have much time,"  Mulder insisted.  "Tell me where
he was born."




To be continued....


Part 14 of ?




"The ones who seek to protect are really the ones who plan
to destroy..."

The boy's words troubled Scully more than the implications
of his true identity.  Luke Doggett.  Once thought dead,
he was alive.  "More than alive", a term used not only by
Luke but by herself when describing Mulder's heightened
brain activity. It was not a coincidence.  She had learned
that there were no twists of fate in this reality.  Parallels
were meant to be drawn between this universe and the one she
had once thought her own.

Although she was strapped to a gurney, Scully realized that
her prison was of her own making. As a scientist, she had been
trained to view the world through logic, not intuition. Yet she
wondered if the so-called "heightened brain activity" wasn't
actually the ability to channel one's "higher self".  She had
already experienced brief glimpses of lucidity, primarily through
passion. With Mulder, she had felt a type of resonation in which
a mesmeric gaze transcended her from a physical to spiritual
plane. 

In his eyes she had discovered the window to her own
soul. She prayed, especially now, that he had seen her
soul, too.

Scully knew that she was in danger, not only of mind-altering
drugs but by those who administered them.  Luke was right.
Those who sought to protect were really planning to destroy.
Cigarette Smoking Man had staged her disappearance as an alien
abduction so Mulder would search above and not below. For deep
beneath the earth she was gestating more than Mulder's baby.
She had conceived a threat to the super soldiers that were
being genetically engineered. Should the truth about William
ever become known, that human beings were capable of defeating
colonization through genetic evolution, Cigarette Smoking
Man's creation would be obsolete.

Realization sharpened Scully's senses. She detected the faint
smell of smoke before her nemesis entered the underground lab
in which she was held.  Closing her eyes, she feigned sleep
to protect herself and the boy who had just warned her. She
hoped that his perception was as stale as his breath. It
fanned her face as he leaned over her and whispered,

"I once told you that in the end... a man finally looks at
the sum of his life to see what he'll leave behind."

His words replayed a distant memory.  She remembered the
foolish trip she had taken with him to Milford, Pennsylvania
in search of a cure for cancer.  He had tricked her with
the promise of distinction within the scientific community
and more importantly, in Mulder's eyes. She had failed
miserably from both perspectives.  She had no intentions
of failing again.
  
Scully's lack of response didn't seem to bother him.  He
took her hand into his cold, clammy grip.  "No sacrifice
is purely altruistic," he whispered.  "We give expecting
to receive.  Because of you, I gave up a cure to my disease.
Yes, my dear, I am still dying.  But in death, I couldn't
be more alive."

Scully fought the urge to recoil from both his touch and
ironic use of words.  She focused on the steady rise and
fall of her chest.  Her rhythmic breathing only provided
a metronome by which he timed his next words.

"By restoring your fertility I was able to control mankind's
fate," he relayed. "The aliens will now seek what they
believe is the answer to our prayers.  Yet those we created
to protect will indeed be the ones who ultimately destroy.
And that is a truth worth dying for, isn't it?"

Scully felt her lungs collapse as the horror of his plan
materialized in her mind.  He had no intentions of ever
letting them go... Luke or William.  Like a maestro, he
had orchestrated one child's death and another one's life
to further his self-serving opus.
   
"What of you, Agent Scully?" he asked her.  "What
sacrifices are you willing to make to ensure the survival
of humanity.  Are you capable of being altruistic or must
you also receive in order to give?"

She was too frightened to even think of an answer.  As
before, he conceived one for her.  "I've already given you
the power to control your own reality, Dana.  It's now up
to you to use it Would you not choose to be Mulder's obsession
rather than compete with it?  And think of your son.  Isn't
it far better to receive rather than give away?"

Cigarette Smoking Man was tempting her with what she most
wanted.  The universe she had left behind.  Like the others,
he was offering her a reality in which she would never suffer
again, a reality where there was no death or abandonment.   

Like the others, she could be more than alive.


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

"End of the road", Doggett announced as the sedan stopped
in front of a dilapidated building.

Mulder turned off the ignition and glanced out the dust covered
windshield.  "And the beginning of our search, Detective."

"Listen Agent Mulder, if we find anybody here it really will be
a miracle," the man said.  "Democrat Hot Springs is permanently
off the map for a reason.  People used to come for the waters but
the springs dried up and they quit coming."
 
"Sounds like the perfect place to hide something." commented
Mulder as he got out of the car.  "Or someone..."

"Like Agent Scully?"

Mulder waited for the Detective to join him in front of the
building. He pointed to faded paint on the window.  "Can you
read that?"

Doggett squinted at the lettering. "Water from the rock,"
he recited.  "Exodus 7:16."

"I wonder...," the agent murmured, folding his arms in contemplation.  

The Detective scratched the side of his head.  "Wonder what?  You're
gonna have to clue me in, Agent Mulder, cause I've got better things
to do than quote scripture for you."

"You said that Luke was born here."

"Yeah," Doggett said, shrugging.  "Elizabeth and I were visiting
relatives a few miles south.  She wanted to stop and see where I
was born. Luke wasn't due for another month, but the minute we got
here her water broke and...."

Mulder gave him a sidelong glance.  "Water from a rock?"

Doggett didn't appreciate his biblical interpretation.  "I delivered
him, myself." he said.  "Cops can do that, you know."

"So can a federal agent," Mulder countered.  "Or a clone posing as one."

"Are you talkin' about me?" Doggett scoffed,thumbing his chest. 
"Cause if you are, I want a raise or a second opinion."  

Mulder's laugh was ill timed, but unavoidable.  He couldn't help but
appreciate the detective's sarcasm.  It reminded him of his own. 
"Depending on whose reality we're talking about, you are a federal
agent.  And from what I understand, a damn good one."

His words prompted a full fledged snort from the detective.  "Who's
reality is that?"

"Agent Scully's."

"Yeah, right...."  Doggett's tone was dismissive.  "In her dreams..." 

"Exactly."  Mulder opened the door to the abandoned building. "Which
began right here... where both of our sons were born."

Doggett didn't respond, but followed Mulder inside.  He suddenly
seemed distracted, as if he was reliving a memory he had chosen to
forget.  His silence allowed Mulder to still his thoughts.  In the
quiet there was lucidity, a state of mind in which he was finally
able to experience what Scully thought was only a dream.

He saw her on the day bed, straining against the contractions that
shook her body and bathed her forehead in perspiration.  She cried out,
not in pain but in fear as the shadows surrounded her.  He couldn't
make out their features which were dark and indistinguishable. Except
the one.  There was no mistaking Monica Reyes or the pulsing vertebrae
in her neck.

"Harder! Push, Dana!"
 
Scully tried to clamp her knees together, resisting Reyes' encouragement.
When she realized that it was futile, that there was no way she could
keep her baby safely in her womb, she began to plead.  

"Please don't let them take it!"

"Push, Dana, push!"

Within a minute, the sound of a newborn baby's cry filled the room.
Mulder watched as Agent Reyes and the shadows retreated to the door.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a new threat to mother and
child. It had nothing to do with Super Soldiers or aliens, but the
man who had created one to defeat the other.

He rose from the earth trailing smoke like a ceremonial robe. In his
hand was a black, opaque rock which he wielded like a crucifix.  The
symbolism was not lost upon Mulder.  Despite the fact that the shadows
were fleeing out of fear, he knew that his son's safety had been born
of an unholy alliance. So did Scully.  Her silent scream shattered the
vision, leaving Mulder standing in a cloud of metallic dust.  

"What is it, Agent Mulder?"  The detective asked as Mulder leaned
over to inspect the tiny granules on the floor.

"Magnetite," he whispered.




To be continued....
 


Author's notes:  This WIP would have not continued without  
David Stoddard-Hunt who very patiently waited until I was
ready to be nudged out of fic retirement to complete it. Many
thanks to David and to the divine Kimberly, who beta's my 
mood as well as my stories.  Also to the members of IWTB for 
their daily inspiration and support. 


Part 15 of 16


"They have too much power to be afraid."

The voice was now familiar to Scully, but it still surprised
her to see Luke Doggett standing in the doorway to the
underground lab.  She did not answer him.  He must not perceive
her as a threat, she reminded herself.  Although firmly
strapped to the gurney and immobilized, she knew that her
presence somehow compromised this boy's sense of security.

Luke inched towards her, his light blue eyes taking on his
father's squint.  He was skeptical, but not enough to keep him
from seeking out the truth.  How much he reminded Scully of his
father, at least, of the agent she was partnered with in the other
universe.  She wondered if her memories, however false, had
somehow prepared her for this moment.  Maybe learning how to
deal with Doggett had somehow prepared her for dealing with
his son.

The boy toyed with the end of the leather strap as if he
considered releasing her.  "My mom says that they're coming,"
he informed her.  "The ones created to protect but who now
seek to destroy."

"Luke, who are they?"

"Don't you know?" He looked astonished. "I thought that
you're the only one who could tell them apart."

"Are you talking about the two Agent Reyes?"

The boy nodded.   

Scully's breath released in a pant-like burst. "What makes
you think I can tell them apart?" she asked.

"You did before," he said. "The night you gave birth to
William."

The night came rushing back with the intensity of a black
tide.  Images began to swirl around her, engulfing her,
drowning her in memories she wanted to forget.  But that
had been the problem all along.  She didn't want to remember.
She didn't want to relive the pain.  

Her son had been taken from her.  She was alone, abandoned,
with only post-partum contractions to remind her that she had
just given birth.  Even her scream was silent.  She
was weak.  She was dying. The hemorrhage beneath her was
transforming the sheets into her burial shroud.   

"You're not dying," a voice reminded her.  "You've never
been more alive."

Scully glanced up to see Agent Reyes hovering over her.  It
was then that she was able to distinguish the replicant from
the clone.  For there were tears in this woman's eyes, a shared
empathy, the one thing that alien technology could not eradicate
in favor of racial superiority...

Monica Reyes' soul. 

Scully closed her eyes as an incandescent light surrounded her,
warming her chilled body, lifting her past the shock and death
grip of a mother's still-born hope.

"My baby..."

"In time you will understand why he is safer here, at least for
now."  

"Where are you taking me?" 

"Back where it all began... back where he will find you."

"Mulder..." 

Her mind replayed the details as if she had written them herself.
Mulder would find her unconscious beneath an oak tree, her crimson
hair faded to blend in with the brown leaves that covered her.
Summer had given way to Winter, the cool fall transition lost 
to his frantic search. He spared no time or effort to find
her. By day, he roamed the desert highways, pursuing the invisible
ship's latest coordinates. By night, he tracked the stars, hoping
that one would fall to earth and return her to him. When he could
no longer distinguish dawn from twilight, he closed his eyes and
awakened to the silent lucidity of his mind. 

"Scully..."

She could hear his voice in the distance. The sound of it carried
her back to the present.  Opening her eyes, she knew that she had
come full circle in her mind.  The final minutes of her so-called
"abduction" had completed the timeline to her past.  Her alternate
universe had been nothing other than a dream domain.  Yet she knew
that it had been a necessary escape.  It prevented her from
recognizing the truth of her captivity.  It taught her how to
develop lucidity in its most perfect form, to recognize and embrace
the fact that she and Mulder were two halves of the same soul.    

Scully realized then that she was no longer secured to the gurney.
She glanced at the boy in the doorway, rewarding him with a smile
of relief and gratitude.  "You set me free," she acknowledged.

"No," Luke shook his head and pointed to the tall, hazel-eyed man
beside her.  "He did."



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




"Mulder," Scully whispered his name.  

He scooped her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest as
he would a small, fragile child.  But the minute her arms tightened
around his neck, he realized that she was not the same woman he had
found curled up in a fetal position beneath the leaves.  This Scully
was strong and resolute.  By living twice at once she had opened
her mind to extreme possibilities.  She no longer feared that which
she didn't understand.  The skeptic had become a believer.
 
Mulder set her down, knowing that she was more than capable of
standing on her own two feet.
  
"Are you alone?" Scully asked.
  
"Doggett is above ground, standing guard," he told her.  "We think
we were followed."

"My dad?" Luke cried.  "He's here?"

Before the boy could sprint up the dark corridor towards his father
an even darker obstacle blocked his way... his mother. Lizzy Doggett,
nee Gill. Smoke seemed to permeate her as if she was burning in
her own hell.  But then she was only the pharmaceutical Angel of
Death. True Death in all his tar-stained glory stood right behind
her.

"You black lunged bastard," Mulder yelled, advancing on him. "Where's
my son?"

Cigarette Smoking Man held up a placating hand, an unfiltered
cigarette burning brightly between his fingers.  "Your son is here,
Fox.  And as long as he remains here, he's safe."

"Liar," hissed Scully.  "The only ones you're interested in keeping
safe are your super soldiers."

"You have it all wrong, my dear," the man said.  "We created the 
super soldiers to protect mankind.  But our experiment failed.
Now they seek to destroy this boy and your son, because they
know that these children are our only hope."

Mulder was used to irony.  His life had been defined by incongruity
and twists of fate.  This moment was to be no exception.  He would 
have to make sense out of senselessness.  "The magnetite keeps them
out," he theorized.      

"Yes, Fox.  The magnetite contains a metallic ore that obliterates
the steel rod that we used to create the super soldiers. They know
it and remain above." He lifted his cigarette to his mouth, his lips
curling upward into a smug grin.  "You cannot clone a soul, but
you can clone a sense of self-preservation."

A sudden blast over his head shook the butt from his fingers.  The
limestone walls began to crumble, filling the corridor with dust and
black tinted ore.

The exit was blocked.  

"Think you can clone another way out?" Mulder sneered, grabbing
Scully's arm and moving her towards the doorway.  "Because your
super soldiers have found a solution to the magnetite.  Strip
mining."

Another blast collapsed the ceiling of the lab, taking Cigarette
Smoking Man's altruism with it.  He pushed Elizabeth Doggett
aside and hurried up an unobstructed corridor.  "It's all going
to hell," he called over his shoulder.  

"Let's hope it takes you with it this time," Mulder yelled
after him.

"Mulder, we have to find William," pleaded Scully, tugging on
his arm.  

"We have to help my dad," insisted Luke.  "He's up there alone."

"Luke, no!" Elizabeth Doggett tried to restrain her son, but
his look of contempt weakened her grip.  He broke free and
raced up the corridor.   His slight frame allowed him to squeeze
through a crack in the vertical facing. "Doesn't he realize
what danger he's in?" 

"Do you?" Scully asked.  Without warning, she jerked Mulder's
gun from the back of his waistband and pointed it at the woman's
throat.  "Where is he, Lizzy?  Where is our son?"

Elizabeth Doggett swallowed hard before answering, "Follow
me, I'll take you to him."

She never had a chance to make good on her promise.  The stone
wall behind her exploded, taking her with it.  Mulder instinctively
fell to the ground, taking Scully with him.  He shielded her body
from the spray of debris, jagged pieces of rock that tore at the
leather of his jacket.  When the dust settled, he glanced to side
and cringed.  Lizzy's severed head rolled by him, coming to rest
just inches away.

He knew what that meant...

"Well, things seem to have come to a head," he coughed, trying 
to insert humor into horror.  For directly across from them was 
the creature he feared the most.  "Agent Reyes, I presume.  The 
question is, of course, which one?"

Scully wasn't afraid.  She stared into the woman's eyes for a 
moment before responding.  "The one who destroys in order
to protect.  The one who will save us all." 


Chapter 16


They maneuvered the labyrinth of corridors in the underground
facility, stopping to grasp the walls with each explosion above
them. The detonations seemed strategically timed.  Each one
blocked off clearly marked exits and drove them deeper into the
cavern.  As dirt rained down upon Scully, she found herself
choking on a grainy uncertainty. Her hope of finding William
was disintegrating into a dust cloud.

"Where is he?" she coughed out the words.

The replicant's dark eyes only mirrored her question.
 
Scully fumbled for Mulder's hand.  He was directly behind her,
but she needed the reassurance of his touch.  His fingers
weaved through hers, securing them together and reminding
her of their partnered strength.

"Agent Reyes is not the guide, Scully.  You are."

"What?"  She flashed Mulder a look of disbelief before focusing
an accusing stare at the replicant.  "What?"

Reyes offered a sympathetic smile.  "If you are going to keep
and protect this child, you must complete the journey without
my help."

"I don't understand."  Her voice wavered in her confusion.

"You don't need open eyes to see."  The replicant's words were
ambiguous, but her gesture couldn't be more clear.  She pointed
directly ahead and stood aside for the two of them to pass.

The implication of finding William without the replicant's help
was intimidating.  Scully hesitated until another explosion
propelled both of them forward.  When the dust settled, she
looked behind her. The muscles in her throat contracted tightly.
Beads of dirty sweat dripped down the side of her neck. 

They were on their own.

"Now you see her, now you don't," quipped Mulder.  His sense of
humor was as flimsy as the walls around them. "Think that's what
she meant?"

"I'm not sure what she meant."  

Scully concentrated on the replicant's last words, trying to
find meaning in them.  Were the words to be taken literally
or symbolically?  Or both?  If the replicant meant that she
would find her son through channeling her "higher self", then
William was as good as lost.  She neither had silence nor
clarity of mind.  They were in a crisis situation and Scully's
emergency response system was to view a solution through logic,
not intuition.

She swiped a forearm across her brow out of frustration.

"Mulder, I don't think I can do this."

"There's your problem," he prompted.  "Don't think - just do."

Mulder's belief in her was more astounding than his suggestion.
Yet his confidence seemed to fuel her own.  She closed her eyes
and focused on the memory of William, what he looked like... 
the soft texture of his skin ... the sound of his cries....

"Mulder, did you hear that?" 

"Hear what?"  Mulder pressed closer to listen.

"A cry," she whispered.  "A baby's cry..." 


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

A few moments later, they found William in a lab room -
turned - makeshift nursery.  The mobile above his crib was
spinning to the tempo of his cries.  He had been abandoned 
to the dust.  His tiny fists curled with upset when his
wailing was interrupted by a sneeze.  

Scully had found their son.  It was up to Mulder to find a
way out of the underground facility.

He tucked William in the crook of his arm, using his
jacket to shield the infant against the dust in the 
corridor.  Scully followed closely behind, prompting 
him with a gentle but insistent hand pressed against 
his back.  As they moved deeper into the facility, Mulder
noticed a change in the texture of the walls.  The surface
felt cold and clammy, suggesting to him that there was 
an underground water source.  He remembered the biblical
verse painted on the window of the building above them.  

"Water from the rock," he mused.  "Scully, I think I have
an idea."

"Don't think," she repeated his own suggestion.  "Just
do..."

Mulder followed the dampness until the sound of water
drowned out the noise of the explosions behind them. 
The corridor opened to the ledge of a massive cavern
with an even more impressive drop to a river below.  
Across from them was a battering fall of white water.  
Behind them was a ladder that scaled the wall to the 
surface.  

He ran his hand along the black, opaque surface. "Water
from the rock," he said excitedly. "It's the magnetite,
Scully. We've discovered the source... the salvation of
mankind."

"We've discovered a ladder, Mulder."

He nodded, realizing that theory and theology would
have to wait until later.  Grasping the rim of the
ladder, he encouraged Scully to climb. She shook her
head and motioned him on.  

"I'll follow you," she said.

"You hate following me," he teased, realizing the motive
behind her gesture.  "You first."

"It's not that... it's..."  The pause in her voice couldn't
compare to the hesitation on her face. 
 
Mulder finished the sentence for her.  "You're afraid I'm
going to drop the baby."

"I am not."

"Then what is it?"

Scully bit her lip and glanced at the river far below.
"Fine.  I'm afraid you're going to drop the baby."

"I'm not going to drop him, Scully," Mulder gave her mock
assurance. "Unless, of course, I climb first to the surface
and find out that we're surrounded by dynamite wielding
clones. Then, yes Scully, it's possible I might drop him...
although I'm sure the clones would prefer that I just hand
him over."

His sarcasm had the desired effect.  Scully grabbed the
rim of the ladder and held out her hand.  "Give me your
gun, Mulder."

Mulder reached into his pocket and produced a more effective
weapon.  "This will stop them a lot sooner."

A few moments later, Scully gave him the "all clear" sign.
He finished climbing the ladder and joined her behind a
group of rocks that lined the ravine.  What he saw in the
distance caused him to take a sudden intake of breath.  Less
than a mile away, Democrat Hot Springs lay in ruin.  Most
of the buildings were either burning or flattened.  Smoke
and dust rose to the sky, forming a billowing cloud of
destruction.  It was impossible to tell if the detective
and his son had survived.  

"Think they made it?" Scully asked him.

"I don't know," Mulder said as he passed William to her. 
"But I owe it to Doggett to find out."

"You don't owe me nothin', Agent Mulder."

Behind them, John Doggett emerged from a large formation
of rocks. He was covered in soot and his cropped hair looked
singed.  Yet he was alive and apparently unharmed. "I figure
that it's me who owes the two of you," he said, thumbing over
his shoulder.  Behind him, Mulder saw the detective's son, 
Luke, sitting in the passenger seat of their sedan.  "You
gave me my boy back."

"Just as you helped us find our son," said Scully.  "We'll
always be grateful to you, John."

Doggett cleared his throat and started motioning them towards
the car as if he were directing mid-town traffic.  "Meters
tickin'.  Let's move our grateful asses along, Agents."

Doggett didn't ask about his ex-wife's fate.  Mulder wasn't
sure if he already knew or felt betrayed enough not to care.  

Once they were speeding away from the ruins of Democrat Hot
Springs, Mulder leaned up from the back seat and spoke to
Doggett.  "What happened back there?"

"I thought we were done for," the cop said grimly.  He
reached over to ruffle his son's hair.  "We were surrounded
by 'em, Agent Mulder.  Dozens of clones, led by our evil
twin.  But that was when she arrived...."

"The replicant?"

Doggett gripped the steering wheel. "I've never seen anything
like it. They scattered at the sight of her.  At first, I
thought she might be holding one of those funny rocks of
yours.  But nope, it was just her. She terrified them."

Scully rocked their baby in her arms and glanced out the
back seat window.  "You can't clone a soul," she repeated
softly.  "Just a sense of self-preservation."

"Are you saying that our alien gal has a soul?"

"Not just any soul," said Mulder.  "Monica Reyes' ... the
same woman who tried to help you find your son all those
years ago, Detective... the same woman who loved you enough
to make the ultimate sacrifice...  I believe that Agent
Reyes allowed her own abduction so that one day she would
be in a position to help us all."

Doggett was silent for several minutes.  At first, Mulder
thought the man was focused on his driving, but he could see
the detective's eyes in the rear-view mirror.  They were
bloodshot, strained from holding back the type of emotion
that cops just didn't show.  Giving him a break,  Mulder
tapped him on the shoulder.  

"You may want to step on it, Detective,"  he suggested.
"Those clones may have scattered, but they're still out
there."

Doggett reached up and adjusted the mirror so he could
stare back into Mulder's eyes.  In a gruff voice he answered,
"And so is Monica..."

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


Epilogue


It was another road side hotel in a succession of temporary
lodgings.  Scully didn't mind their transient lifestyle.  She
had suggested it.  Both she and Mulder knew that they could
never return to the FBI.  They had a new assignment, one more
dangerous and exciting than those in the past.  Protecting
William was first and foremost in their minds, not only for
themselves but for all of mankind.

Being on the run wasn't easy but they had many resources, 
including a new contact within the FBI.  Detective John Doggett
had applied and was readily accepted into the training program
at Quantico.  Rumor had it that if anyone would replace "Spooky
Mulder" in the X-files, Doggett would.  Scully couldn't think
of a better successor.  He might have a cop's "by the book" 
mentality, but Scully knew that he was on the fast track to
becoming a true believer. 

As Scully lifted William from his carrier, she saw her future
with a clarity that her past could no longer obscure.  Never
again would she try to escape her fate by altering her reality.
She had learned to "fight the fight" in the most simplistic
terms.  It was confidence, the type of confidence Mulder had
in her... the type she had rediscovered in herself.  

Scully smiled, gazing down at the baby who was whimpering in
her arms.  It was time.  Just as she'd done in her dream, she
passed William to his father's embrace.  As he cradled his son,
she looked on, experiencing a joy that defied the perils ahead.

The words came so naturally now.

"I think what we feared were the possibilities.  The truth we 
both know."

Mulder glanced up with a quizzical look.  "Which is what?"

Scully placed a gentle hand on their son as she leaned
up to kiss Mulder.  She hoped that the feel of her lips
would convey all that she would explain later... the 
defeat of her insecurities and the passion of renewed hope.
It was a kiss that sealed together two universes through
the recognition of a shared soul.
 
She never felt more alive.


-end-


Authors Notes:  I would have never finished this story had
I not been encouraged by a true believer.  So I dedicate
"Silent Lucidity" to my soulmate... David Stoddard-Hunt.