TITLE:  The Genesis Project XI 
AUTHOR:  aRcaDIaNFall$ 
FEEDBACK: arcadianfalls@yahoo.com.au. 
RATING:  PG-13 
SPOILERS: nothing particularly spoilerific that I recall :]  
CLASSIFICATION: SRA, M&S married, kidfic, alternate universe 
SUMMARY: Some resolution, some evolution, some backward steps. Life
isn't easy when you can read people's minds and everybody's finding
that peace isn't so easy easy to achieve. 
AUTHOR'S NOTE: As usual, you can find the whole thing on my site: 
--> http://www.geocities.com/arcadianfalls/ 
  

The Genesis Project XI 
by aRcaDIaNFall$ 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- SCULLY POV - 

I was hot. I stood, moving over to the wall, and nudged the thermostat
down a few degrees. I knew Mulder would surreptitiously inch it back up
again the first chance he got but I didn't care. My skin was prickling
with the heat, though the weatherman had forecast another mild April
day. 

I sat back down again, swivelling a little in my chair as my fingers
poised to type. The cursor blinked on the screen and I just sighed.
Typing reports was tedious enough normally, and right now I just didn't
have the brainpower for it. It was never easy, trying to explain away
our actions and what we'd seen, at least without sounding like a
nutball. Sure, it had gotten easier over the years, but each case
presented a new challenge, and my grey cells just weren't up to it. My
body was expending its energy elsewhere. 

"Good morning." A whiff of scent, a flash of colour. A bunch of flowers
pushed in my face. Mulder had returned. I'd assumed he would,
eventually. 

I pulled back a little to glance at my watch, glad at the distraction.
"Only morning for another three minutes." I looked up at his grin
before studying the bouquet. They looked like wildflowers, almost
weed-like green stems and leaves, dozens of tiny yellow and white
flowering buds.  

"What are these for?" I reached to take the bouquet, inhaling the
scent. 

"They're our new case." 

I stopped. "What do you mean?" 

"There's been seven deaths in the past six months, and those flowers
are the key suspect." 

I dropped the bouquet on the keyboard as if it were scalding hot.
Mulder chuckled and I stared at him, trying to figure it out. "I'm not
following." 

He headed to a side shelf, grabbing a dusty jug and taking it to the
small sink in the outer office to fill out. He ripped the green paper
wrapping off the flowers and carefully lowered them into the jug,
tossing the ball of paper into the trash can, and centering the vase on
the desk. 

Was he just teasing me? I thought that he was. But to what extent?  

"Wanna tell me what's going on, Mulder?" 

"Seven horticulturalists, all of them specialising in genetically
modified plants, specifically hothouse flowers. All of them dead." 

I stared at the flowers. "Dead how?"  

"Spider bites, or as close as anybody can tell. The bodies are in
pretty bad shape by the time a pathologist gets to them." 

"Spider bites?" I winced. "Death is instantaneous?" 

"Apparently. Large and pretty lethal doses of poison." 

"So they do know cause of death?" 

"They're making a lot of assumptions based on tox screen findings." 

"Isn't it obvious by simply looking at the bodies?" 

"Well, that's a bit of a problem." 

"Why?" 

"By the time the body is found, there's not much left to look at." 

I stared at him. "The flesh was eaten?" I considered it. "Spiders are
known to eat the solid tissue of their prey by predigestion. They spray
digestive juices, which dissolve the tissue... A large tarantula can
reduce a mouse to a small pile of hair and bones in thirty-six hours." 

"How many large tarantulas would it take to do this to a man in twenty
minutes?" He held up an enlarged colour photograph and I winced. Ouch.
What a way to go. 

"It's feasible that a large enough number of..." Seeing Mulder's
expression, I trailed off. "Well, what's your theory? Are we talking
SpiderMan here?" 

"This doesn't really strike me as his style." 

"But you think it's some sort of ...super spider." 

He grinned. "One with an attraction to genetically modified Mimulus
Bicolors." 

"To what?" 

"The yellow and white monkey flower. They're native to Southern
California, among other places." He reached out to finger one of the
small flowers, considering it. "Out of all the flowers being grown in
the seven hothouses, this was the only species found in each." 

I cleared my throat, eyeing the flowers a little apprehensively.
"You're not worried about having a whole bouquet of them in our
office?" 

"These flowers are sold all over the state. The only fatalities or even
attacks in connection to them are with the horticulturalists who grow
them." 

"So, what? The flowers only attract insects and arachnids when they're
in the hothouses?" 

"Maybe only when they're still growing." 

I drew a deep breath as my mind started to fill with questions, with
the dozens of things to be done at the start of the case. Collection
and review of evidence, getting a hold of the autopsy reports and even
examining the victims myself, visiting the crime scenes, collaboration
with law enforcement already working the case... Our day's work was cut
out for us.  

I turned back to the computer, closing the open window with a sigh of
relief. This was something I could handle. 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- MULDER POV - 

All the hothouses where the deaths had occurred were in surrounding
suburbs and the last two victims were still in the morgue at DC
General. It was mid-afternoon when I left Scully there to do her own
examinations and headed off to the last crime scene. All seven deaths
had occurred in the last six months, the last two inside of a week of
each other. The concreted hothouse floor was still wet with the last
victim's blood.  

I stood, staring. I didn't push past the crime scene tape - I was close
enough where I was. Even with the body taken away, it was a gruesome
sight.  
I moved further alongside the tape. The floor was wet where, assumedly,
Phillip Hunter had stumbled and fallen, crushing the rows of
hydroponically grown plants and breaking equipment before collapsing on
his back on the concrete floor. It was as if the man had been
overpowered. What sort of insects could do this? And why? Was it
possible for such creatures to have intent or was this purely
preprogrammed, instinctive animal behaviour? 

Some marks on the concrete floor caught my eye and I lifted the tape,
inching closer.  

"Who the hell are you?" 

I swung around, almost tangling myself in the yellow tape, and stood,
expecting to face some grumpy member of local law enforcement wanting
to chew me out for getting in the way. But it was a long-haired young
man in dirt-streaked jeans and workboots, holding a large tray of
potted seedlings. 

I flashed my badge. "I'm Agent Mulder. I'm with the FBI. I didn't think
they were allowing employees in here yet." 

"These flowers don't just grow by themselves. Hell if I'm leaving
hundreds of dollars of stock go bad because of lazy bureaucrats." He
lowered the tray to the ground, lifting out the pots one by one and
laying them carefully in rows.  

"Lazy bureaucrats? Your boss is dead." 

"To hell with Phil. He got what he deserved. We all do, in the end." 

"What is it exactly that he did to deserve being bitten and then
partially digested by a poisonous arachnid?" 

The guy straightened up and gazed at me levelly. "Okay, so it's a
shitty way to go. But he did some shitty things. Karma." 

"What sort of things?" 

"What, you're looking for motive? The bugs killed him, man. Sometimes
the food chain gets screwed up a bit and man gets eaten by animal. It
happens." He brushed his hands on his jeans. "Shit happens." 

"So I've heard. So you don't think there's anything strange about what
happened here, or about the six other identical deaths?" 

Still, that insolent, cool arrogance. "It wasn't the first strange
thing to happen here and it won't be the last. Man keeps screwing
around with mother nature like this and things are only gonna get
weirder." He turned, picked up the empty tray, and started to walk off.

"Hey!" I called after him.  

He turned back. "Yeah?" 

"What's your name?" 

He stared at me, as if considering just ignoring the question and
walking off. "Luke." 

"Luke what?" 

"Luke Hunter." 

"So Phillip Hunter was - ?" 

"My dad. We didn't really..." He shook his head, glancing across at the
tacky blood on the floor, quickly looking away again, brushing his
hands on his jeans again. "Shit happens." 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- JACQUELINE POV - 

It was like a painting. A blanket of grey-mauve clouds, becoming
wispier around the edges, all glowing pink, reflecting the brilliant
sunset. The sun was a burning orange ball shimmering on the horizon,
the sky streaked orange, pink, blue. Picturesque. It was cold but there
wasn't a breath of wind. Everything was so still. It was as if the
whole world had stopped. Not a word uttered, not a step taken. 
Suddenly, a stirring, and a large oak in the distance shook and
exploded life, birds squarking noisily, taking flight. I shivered and
winced. My hands, though healed, were still sensitive to hot and cold,
and my joints were aching. It was a beautiful night, and the the
breeze, though mild, was cool in contrast to the day's warmth. 
I hugged myself, jamming my hands in my armpits to warm them. Shrinking
down into myself for warmth I sat huddled, watching as the sun
disappeared and the colours slowly began to fade. The sky grew darker
and darker as storm clouds started to draw closer. I closed my eyes,
feeling the evening chill right through to my bones and hugging myself
tightly for warmth, but not yet ready to go inside.  

Things seem bad, but don't be sad, you'll make it through this all... 

That had been the message in the e-mail Josh had sent me only an hour
ago. It had been offered as comfort and sympathy but somehow it had
only sent through me a rush of listless depression. I wanted Josh with
his quiet wisdom and Astrid with her big, open heart, not sullen,
awkward Ebony and Noah, a stranger's baby. I felt miserably trapped by
my situation, by the mess that I had made of my life, one wrong
decision after another. 
  

The dark clouds were gathering. I wished with sudden ferocity that we'd
get a violent storm, thunder and lightning savaging the skies, rain
cleansing the earth, cleansing me. 

A first raindrop, then another, then more and more pelting down. I rose
to my feet, shook myself and turned, making my way through the glass
doors into my bedroom. It was darker inside than out and my eyes were
still adjusting when a figure appeared in my path. I jumped. "Ebony!
Don't do that." 

She gazed at me with those dull eyes and my skin prickled. The
relationship between us seemed to grow more awkward by the day. I don't
think she'd hated me before, in Australia, but she certainly did now.
She didn't speak. Whatever progress Grae had made with her had been
undone. She no longer drew pictures, or even coloured. Before there had
been a desire to communicate, to have the normal life she'd once had,
but now there was only hostility. She kept out of my way and I kept out
of hers. She made her own meals, went to bed when she wished, and
generally ignored my presence. And frankly, I didn't give a damn. I
didn't have enough energy for myself these days. I wasn't going to
waste any on somebody who hated me.  

I moved past her, keeping my distance, and went to check on Noah. He
was sitting in the playpen, gazing at the ceiling as if expecting the
rain he heard to start falling down on him. I drew a deep breath,
moving closer, but recoiled at the thought of touching him. An innocent
baby boy - it wasn't his fault who he was born to. He deserved more
than a mother who had to force herself into simply picking him up. 

I went right up to the playpen and he transferred his gaze to me. He
didn't reach up to me, like Erin always had for Fox and Dana and the
kids and even me. He just sat there, staring at me with those innocent
baby eyes. No smile, nothing.  

"I'm not such a great mommy, am I?" I stared at him unhappily, feeling
as though there were some physical barrier preventing me from reaching
down to him. A baby needs his mother. I was letting him down. I should
try to fix this. 
I let out a shaky sigh, taking a step back. I couldn't. "I'm sorry," I
whispered. I stiffened at a crack of lightning in the sky. Noah's eyes
widened at the noise and before he could start to cry I moved over to
the CD player, quickly putting in a Beethoven CD and pushing the volume
up to drown out the noise.  
Noah whimpered a little, but seemed to settle. His nanny at the clinic
had said that he liked Beethoven, and sure enough, he was calm as he
sat there, sucking on the ear of his teddy bear, watching me solemnly. 

I'm sorry I treat you so badly, kid. We all just need somebody to give
us a break.  
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- SCULLY POV - 

Most of the other parents were already there when we pulled up, the
last of many cars parked along the kerb. Some parents were waiting in
their cars, others stood in the headlight beams huddled under umbrellas
as the rain sheeted down. 

"At least we beat the bus," I offered. We'd spent the last few hours of
the day knee-deep in research; our office resembled an agricultural
student's study, books and printouts of the species of spider whose
venom had been isolated in the tox screen, and of the flower that had
seemingly attracted them. The cause of death was obvious enough and yet
Mulder was insisting that there was some method and motive to be found.
Whatever track his mind had been racing along, he hadn't been impressed
when I reminded him of the time and dragged him out of the office for
the night. 

He shrugged, resting his head on the steering wheel. He was,
childishly, being difficult. 

I settled back in my seat, unpeturbed by his behaviour. We were both
silent. That wasn't a problem. We'd spent so many hours in cars, in
silence. It felt natural to sit there together in the dark.  

I reached across to him, taking his hand and bringing it to my stomach
for him to follow the baby's movements. He lifted his head and smiled
at me sheepishly. 
"Sorry." 

I nodded and squeezed his hand, allowing him that for the moment. 

It was always a problem when we picked up a new case on a Friday. We
couldn't just work through weekends like we once had. Mulder in
particular was constantly torn between the drive to solve the case and
the need to be at home for the kids. The transition from one to the
other made things a little awkward, sometimes. 

More silence. He was gazing out the window, his attention seemingly
elsewhere, but his hand on my stomach kept moving to feel every kick.  

Finally, headlights penetrating the rain. "The bus is here." 
  

Astrid hadn't wanted to go away, even for the one night. She'd been on
several camps and fieldtrips in the past but lately she'd become
increasingly dependent on us, protesting every time we landed an out of
town case - fortunately, not so many recently - and constantly checking
up on us, once or twice even calling our celphones during her lunch
break with obvious excuses. At first suggestion of an overnight
fieldtrip she'd put her foot down, but we'd talked her into it and it
was clear enough that we'd made the right choice. 

"Mommy, I rode a horse!!" She flew at us through the rain, grinning.
"It was kinda scary at first but I got the hang of it really quickly,
and the lady there said I was a real natural... Daddy, you look tired.
Is Erin keeping you up all night? She's okay, isn't she? She's not sick
or relapsed-" 

I cut her off before she could get into a panic about nothing. "Erin's
fine. Daddy's been working hard, that's all. Why don't you have a
sweater on, sweetie? It's cold out here." 
She was only in jeans and a dirty t-shirt. She looked like she'd
literally been running around the countryside. I was glad. The kids
didn't get to do a lot of outdoors things. Neither of them were even
playing sport at the moment. Jacqueline had been the one pushing that.
Maybe Mulder and I needed to do something about it. The kids had loved
playing baseball. It was something wonderfully normal. They needed
that.  

"It was warm on the coach," Astrid explained offhandedly, standing with
her back against Mulder and pulling his jacket around her. "It wasn't
raining there, either. It was warm and I was wearing shorts but then I
fell out of the tree - it wasn't my fault - and I kinda landed in a
muddy bit so I had to put my jeans on, 'cept -" 

"How about you go get your things, huh?" I gave her a nudge. We were
standing under the bus shelter but the rain was coming in sideways and
I could still feel my shoes getting wet. It was more uncomfortable than
cold. "Then we can get home and get dry." 

"Did you see your doctor? Did he say that everything's okay with the
baby? She's growing properly and everything? And Erin's okay? And
Joshie? And Duckie? Is she-" 

"Astrid, you were gone for barely thirty-six hours! No, I didn't see Dr
Harrison, my appointment isn't til next week. Yes, everything is okay
with the baby, and Erin's okay, and Josh and Jacqui are fine too. If
you'll just hurry up and get your things-" 

But she'd spotted one of her friends. She flew off, calling "Just a
minute!" over her shoulder, and pushed her way through the crowd of
kids with their parents.  

I turned to face Mulder and shrugged. He smiled, albeit sleepily, and
opened his arms to me. I stood with my back against him like Astrid
had, and pulled his arms around me. Warm and dry, or at least the
illusion of it.  

He yawned. I yawned. We both chuckled.  

"Early to bed tonight," I announced, rubbing his hands. They were
cold.  

"Early," he agreed, yawning again. "You can tuck me in, for once." 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- MULDER POV - 

Dragging Astrid away from her friends ended up being quite a job but
the moment they were out of sight she started pushing us to hurry home.
She ran ahead of us and by the time I got into the apartment she had
tossed her things down in the middle of the floor and was sitting on
the couch with Erin on her lap as if she hadn't seen her sister for
weeks.   

I left Scully to see Kathy off and to tell Astrid to unpack, and I went
to see Josh. He was sitting on his bed, writing something in one of his
journals. Mr Tom was curled up right beside him, purring loudly.  
"Hey kiddo." 

He looked at me over the top of his journal. I saw the tiredness in his
face. Scully had put him on b-vitamin and iron tablets but they seemed
to have made little difference. But at least he was sleeping. The last
thing we needed was the insomnia he'd suffered over Christmas to
return. 

"Did you see the counsellor today?" 

He nodded, looking down at his page. He hadn't protested our suggestion
that he start sessions with the school counsellor but he hadn't exactly
sounded happy with the idea, either. Astrid *had* protested, but we'd
gone along with it anyway. Two out of three kids in therapy. How could
we say that our family life was normal? 

"Do you think it helped you at all?" 

He shrugged. "Maybe." 

"Too soon to tell?" 

A nod.  

"Well, have a couple more sessions, see what happens. If you don't
think it's doing anything you need to tell us, Josh, and we'll get
something else." 

He gazed at me evenly. I felt a little awkward. We had chosen to go
first to the school counsellor and then as a second option to look for
outside specialists. Talk to Josh ourselves about this was something
neither of us really wanted to do. We told ourselves and each other
that we were too close and that we needed an objective analysis here,
but the truth was that we didn't have an answer and we both knew it.
How do you deal with a child who can read people's minds and thinks he
hears the voice of God? 

"You can talk to us too, if you want. We won't pretend to have all the
answers but when you need to talk -" 

He nodded dismissively. Embarrassed, maybe. He wasn't comfortable with
talking to us about this things. And yet, I had to ask - "You're
listening to my thoughts right now, aren't you?" 

A small nod. He watched me with something akin to apprehension, afraid
of being punished for what he couldn't control. 

How -? 

He answered before I could ask. "Just like you're talking, but your
mouth doesn't move." He hugged his knees, still wary.  

"It must get pretty loud when you're surrounded by people." 

Shrug.  

"What about God?" 

"Same. But there's nobody there." 

"It's not just your own conscience?" 

Small, sad smile. "No." 

"Have you heard from God, lately?" 

He shook his head, rubbing at his eye. He was getting a little agitated
at my questioning but I wasn't prepared to stop. We'd danced around
this for so long, not daring to ask the questions. This was long due. 

"You know things, too. You know more than people are thinking. How do
you do that?" 

He licked his lips, eyes cast on his journal as he played with the top
of the page.  

"Josh?" C'mon, kiddo, I only want to help. 

He shook his head. He was getting upset. What sort of damage was this
doing to Josh? It couldn't be healthy. It wasn't, that was clear
enough. Normal seven year olds weren't so pensive and weary. But what
could we do? 

"You can't stop it." 

Do you wish that I could? 

"Sometimes." 

Why? 

"Sometimes I just want quiet." 

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- SCULLY POV - 

Mulder had fallen asleep on the couch just after dinner. I'd woken him,
sending him to bed. It was over an hour later, with the kids all in bed
for the night, that I got to stop myself, and seeing him spreadeagled
on the bed made me realise how very tired I was. My feet were sore, my
back was aching. I was exhausted.  

I almost just crawled under the covers as I was, but I pushed myself
the last mile, plodding through the processes of getting ready for bed.
Returning to the dark bedroom, I was half-delirious with the thought of
sleep when I found Astrid sitting at the foot of our bed, in the dark. 

"What are you doing here, sweetie?" I punctuated the question with a
yawn, feeling more asleep than awake. 

She wasn't crying, at least. That had too often been the cse. She
shrugged her shoulders, giving me a sheepish grin. "I missed you." 

I opened my mouth to scold, but found I didn't have the energy. I
touched the top of her head lightly. "Off to bed." 

"Come tuck me in?" 

I nodded, offering her a hand up. She took it, gazing at Mulder
sleeping. "I miss you when you're not home, too. I miss being able to
see you asleep." 

"What's so special about seeing us asleep?" 

"Cos you always sleep so close to each other. Daddy's keeping the
monsters away. You're safe. That makes us feel safe." 

I gave her a nudge. "Come on, sweetie, I'm tired." 

I followed her into her bedroom, pulling back the covers for her. She
slept in the top bunk and was too high for me to really be able to tuck
in properly, but she curled up on her side and pulled the covers up
over herself. "Hey, Mommy?" 

"Yeah?" 

"All kids do that, right?" 

"Do what?" 

"Sneak into their parent's room sometimes at night, just to listen to
them breathe." 

I smiled, reaching up to brush the curls off her face. "I know I did." 

She grinned. "Good. Just checking." 

Just checking what? That she was normal? That she was allowed? 

"I don't do it if the door is closed, of course," she added suddenly.
"Cos... you know." I wondered how long it had taken the kids to
understand what the closed door meant. Maybe they'd always known. They
were pretty smart about those things. "But when the door is open, I
figure it's okay." 

"Yeah, it is. You had fun at the camp?" 

"Lots. It was good to do all that outdoors stuff." 

"Maybe it was good to get away from all of us for a while." 

"I missed you." 

"I know, but maybe it still did you some good. We all need a break
sometimes, just to give us some perspective." 

She nodded, yawning, and reached down her hand. I kissed her fingertips
goodnight and she smiled. "Love you, Mommy." 

I returned the smile. "Love you too, Astrid." 

I let go of her hand and turned to leave but she called me back. "Hey,
Mommy?" 

"Yeah, sweetie?" 

"We've got a pretty perfect family, haven't we?" 

I thought about Mulder's obsessions, Josh's insecurities, Erin's cheeky
naughtiness, Astrid's moodswings, and even my own shortcomings. In the
big picture, how much did they really matter? We loved each other
despite our failings. I smiled. "Yeah, we do." I switched off the
light. "See you in the morning." 

"See you in the morning," she echoed, sounding sleepy.  

I plodded sleepily back down the hall, half-expecting to hear Erin
crying. But nothing. Just blessed silence. I moved into our bedroom,
lifting the covers and easing myself in, letting out a sigh as I
stretched out, finally letting myself relax. I wriggled closer to
Mulder, my eyelids already fluttering closed, and I pulled his
outstretched hand across. He murmured and shifted, fingers stretching
for a moment before slackening, resting cupping the side of my belly. I
sighed again, finally letting my eyes close and my breathing fall into
a slow rhythm. A dark bedroom, two sets of steady breathing. Safety. 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- MULDER POV - 

Our bedroom always got the morning sunlight. It was calming to lie
there bathing in the gentle warmth, to know that we could take the day
slowly. The kids woke early but Scully and I liked to lie in, revelling
in those few hours of peace, enjoying the time to ourselves.  

I could hear the kids out on the kitchen, the Saturday morning cartoons
on TV, Erin's cries of "Me! Look! Me!" and her shrieks of delight as
she chased after her kitten. Life was simpler on the weekends. Though
sometimes the transition from work to home was hard to make, it was
worth it.  

I stretched and rolled over, gazing at Scully as she lay asleep beside
me. She lay curled on her side, pillow wedged under her belly, her face
resting on her clasped hands. I reached out to stroke her soft cheek
with the back of my knuckles and she stirred, rolling onto her back,
murmuring. I slid my hand across under the covers and under her pajama
shirt, loving the contact, the experience of feeling this unborn
miracle move. I couldn't get enough of it.  

I wriggled closer, sliding my arm more fully around her, nestling
contentedly against her side. My soul was stilled by the exquisite
simplicity of the situation.  

"Daddeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" Erin came running in, throwing herself on the bed
and lunging on me. I reluctantly drew back from Scully, not wanting
Erin to wake her, and smiled at my little girl as she climbed on my
chest, pinning me down. Her face was covered in rainbow-coloured crumbs
- the kids always had Froot Loops for breakfast on weekends. It looked
like she had a fistful of them, still. She grinned at me. "Ten!" she
shrieked. 

I glanced at the clock. "Not ten yet, monkey. It's only eight." 

"Ten!" she shrieked again. She giggled giddily, tossing her handful of
dry cereal at me, rolling off the bed, and taking off. 

"Erin!" I called after her, scolding uselessly. She knew we didn't have
a chance. We adored her too absolutely to really discipline
effectively. 

I sat up, brushing the crumbs off me, then carefully picking the cereal
pieces up, one by one, collecting them in the palm of my hand. Always
practical, Scully was adamantly against crumbs in the bed and I
couldn't blame her, especially when it came to the rough, sugar
encrusted Froot Loops. 

I climbed out of bed, heading toward the wastepaper basket in the
corner. About to toss out the handful, I stopped, and took a second.
There were ten Fruit Loops in my hand. Ten, Erin had announced. 

Shaking myself, I dropped the handful into the trash and brushed the
crumbs off my hand. The kids had probably been helping her count. I
didn't think she was quite capable of that herself, yet, though, as she
kept happily reminding us, it was only one more day til her second
birthday. How much did she know, I wondered? 
  

"Mulder? What are you doing?" 

I turned to see Scully, propped up on an elbow, gazing at me sleepily.
I'd just been standing there. 

I shook my head, climbing back onto the bed and snuggling up against
her. She smiled, wrapping her arms around me in the same way she often
did Josh. I put my hands over hers, loving just being able to hold onto
her.  

"What's on your mind?" 

She murmured contentedly, still half-asleep. "Absolutely nothing." 

"Sounds relaxing." 

Sleepy chuckle. "Yeah, it is." 
  

We lay together in silence, listening. Josh and Astrid were having an
argument about something. Erin was trying to get their attention. Mr
Tom wailed as somebody trod on his tail, and we heard his scampering
footsteps as he fled to safety, Erin's cries as she chased after him.  

Scully stirred, withdrawing her arms and stretching. "We should get
up." 

I watched as she swung herself off the bed, tugging on her robe as she
moved over to the full length mirror, studying her reflection. Though
getting pregnant with Erin had seemed an agonisingly slow process, we'd
flown through that pregnancy, the excitement of it all. But this
pregnancy had spanned such incredible changes in all of our lives. This
baby had been conceived close to the time of Erin's diagnosis, and yet
that seemed so impossible. It felt like years since the hell of Erin's
diagnosis. We'd gone through so much since then. And yet, this baby
kept growing steadily, pacing us. 

Seven and a bit months. Less than two to go. It was well and truly out
in the open, now, and Scully seemed much the better for it. Those weeks
when we'd struggled to keep the truth hidden had been taxing on her
conscience. 

"Mommy! Mommeeeeee..." 

Erin was back. She ran to Scully, who swung her up into her arms,
giving her a kiss hello. "You've been eating Froot Loops, haven't you?
Look at you! You've got them all over your face!" 

Erin giggled, wriggled, and Scully let her down. Erin ran to the
window. "We go outside? We go now?" 

Scully tucked her hair back behind her ears, grabbing a tissue and
cleaning up Erin's face. "Go where?" 

"The *park*!" Erin explained, as if Scully should have gone. "We go
now? Please?" 

"Maybe soon, sweetie. Mommy and Daddy only just got up out of bed." 

I beckoned Erin closer. She climbed onto my lap, grinning up at me.  

I smiled back. "You're a clever girl, aren't you? You wanna play a game
with me?" 

"What game?" 

I freed a hand and stretched out three fingers. "How many fingers is
Daddy holding up?" 

Scully came closer, tying her robe closed and kneeling on the bed
beside us. "Let's count Daddy's fingers, huh? One, two,-" 

"Free!" Erin declared, giggling. She knew she was right. 

"Yeah, that's good. How about now?" I held up all five. 

Erin answered before Scully could even start to count through with her.
"Four." 

"Four? I don't think so. Have another try." 

Scully took Erin's hand in hers, touching the tips of each of my
fingers as she counted. "One, two, three, four, five. See? Five." 

"Four!" Erin insisted. She bounced the palm of her right hand off each
of my fingers, starting from the pinkie. "One, two, free, four!" 

I wriggled my thumb. "What about this one?" 

Erin looked up at me, shaking her head with Astrid-style impatience.
"Not a finger." 

"No? Not a finger?" 

She wriggled her own thumb. "Thumb." 

Clever kid. Who had taught her *that*? The kids? I glanced at Scully,
who shrugged, smiling. She leaned closer to kiss Erin's forehead and
then stood. "We have anything planned for this morning?" 

"Absolutely nothing." 

She grinned. "Sounds relaxing." She bent to kiss me, then ruffled my
hair. "I'll be in the shower." 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- SCULLY POV - 

The kids took Erin to the park for an hour, and brought her back all
covered in mud. She was running around like crazy, throwing herself
into our arms and quickly squirming away again. She was getting mud
*everywhere*. 

Astrid caught up with her, and between the two of us we managed to
strip off her muddy clothes and put on a clean set. Astrid was better
with Erin lately, though she still got mad when Erin called her 'Ted'.
It was going to be one of the hardest habits to break, it seemed. 

I gave Erin her cup of juice and put her in front of the TV, hoping it
would calm her down. She was hyperactive as it was and I had a sneaking
suspicion that the artificial colourings in the cereal were only making
things worse, but while she was still relatively controllable I didn't
want to take away one of her favourite snacks. She was still picky
about food, though the things that she did like, she ate constantly. 

She ignored the TV and played with her trucks instead, following the
well-worn track through the apartment, under tables and around
armchairs, stopping every few minutes to fish her spillproof cup out of
the dumptruck tray and have a drink. 

It was a slow morning. Josh was in his bedroom working on an assignment
and Astrid was sitting at the family room table tapping away at
lightning speed at the second-hand laptop we'd finally been talked into
getting for her. Mulder was stretched out on the floor with the morning
newspaper spread in front of him, pages rustling occasionally. I sat on
the couch, dangling toes touching Mulder's back, reading through the
latest AMA Journal. It was a morning just like many others. 

I sent Mulder and Astrid out to get some fresh bread for lunch. It was
only for lunch on the weekends that we were ever all in the kitchen at
once and it was pretty chaotic as everybody grabbed for the different
sandwich toppings. Astrid decided to grill hers and then forgot about
it, remembering only when Josh noticed the burning smell. Mister Tom
kept jumping up onto the kitchen counter, trying to get at the slices
of tomato.  

I was just finishing clearing up after lunch when Erin grabbed me and
demanded to be read a story. We read Jack And The Beanstalk through
twice. She knew the story obsessively, protesting every time I missed
even a word of the narration.  

The moment I finished the story she tried to take off, but I held onto
her, carrying her into her bedroom for her early afternoon nap. She
always protested, sometimes jumping up and down in the crib shrieking
at the top of her lungs, but she needed the sleep to be still up and
going at the end of the day. 
She was wriggly despite having sat still for the story. I sat in the
rocker, refusing to let her run away, hushing her as she rambled
quickly. Her mind seemed to fly along at a thousand miles an hour. Was
this the sort of toddler Astrid had been? She was so unbelieveably full
of life. It was so amazing. I still sometimes had to stop and pinch
myself, to believe that this was real. 

I rocked back and forth gently. She was getting sleepier. Her eyelids
drooped but she fought it, as though holding on to life. She was
rambling about Mister Tom when she dropped off. I sat there with her
for a few minutes in silence, listening to her heavy, steady breathing.
I no longer took that for granted. 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- MULDER POV - 

Erin must have seen how thrilled we were by her grasp of numbers
because she took pains to count every single thing she saw, all
throughout the evening at Margaret's. She could get up to twelve; it
was entering the teens that she began to get confused. Still, it was a
remarkable achievement, and she knew it, bounding happily around the
place, refusing to sit still for more than two minutes during dinner.
Gifts from Margaret, after dinner, only excited her further; a set of
toy musical instruments, including a drum and a tamborine. So long,
peace and quiet... 

We stayed til late. Things were always relaxed at Margaret's - it was
the kids' second home, and over the years Margaret and I had come to a
certain understanding, respect for our mutual love of her daughter. It
had developed into an almost maternal relationship that I had felt no
desire to pull back from. This woman was more mother to me the past ten
years than my own had been. 

Erin packed it in just past ten, falling asleep behind a couch. She
slept through the drive home, waking only briefly as I lifted her from
the carseat to carry her inside. She yawned, her arms looped around my
neck, her face buried in my shoulder. Sweet innocence. I almost
couldn't let her go; I took her into her room, but stood by the crib,
just holding her sleeping weight. There was something so reassuring, so
unquestionable, about a future she had only recently not had at all.  

"Daddy?" 

Josh stood a few feet away in the darkness. 

"Yeah, kiddo?" 

"Why did you do that?" 

I knew immediately what he was referring to. During the evening, dinner
in particular, I'd kept throwing thoughts at Josh and Astrid. It wasn't
so much testing as it was sheer fascinated curiosity. I wanted to know
how this worked. I wanted to see what we could do with it, if this
power could be harnessed and used in some way.  

Josh stood, trembling. "I don't want you to." 

You were given these gifts for a reason, Josh. You need to find out
what that reason is. 

"It's dangerous." His voice was small, his eyes pleading. 

Maybe we can help you, Josh. Maybe if we - 
  

"What's going on in here?" 

It was Scully. She looked tired but still moved with a certain
determined energy.  

"Josh and I were just talking," I answered easily. I turned, lowering
Erin down into the crib, tucking the blankets up around her. I turned
back to discover Josh had slipped out. Scully stood, hands on hips,
confused curiosity dawning on her face. 

"What was going on tonight?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"You and Josh. You kept looking at him during dinner. You were really
freaking him out." 

I drew a deep breath. I couldn't keep this going behind her back. I
didn't want to. "I want to give the kids ESP tests." 

She stared at me, then she shook her head quickly, turning away
slightly. "No." Her answer came emphatically. "We're not turning our
family into a freak show." 

"Just so that we know." 

"We already know," she answered shortly. She rubbed her eyes tiredly.
"We can't start treating them that way, Mulder. We can't turn ourselves
into Cate and Roger Moss. We're Josh and Astrid's parents. That comes
first." 

"Just giving them a couple of ESP tests isn't going to stop us loving
them," I argued. "You're right, we already know. But I want to know the
extent of their abilities. We know that Josh..." I broke off, taking a
step toward her. She had her arms folded tightly, a disapproving frown
creasing her forehead. "I know you do it, too," I said softly, reaching
to take her hands as she dropped her arms to her side. 

"I don't do it to test him," she answered quietly. "I don't like you
doing it, Mulder. It's not improving things." 

"It could. If we could get a better picture -" 

She shook her head and I broke off. Okay. It was too late into the
night to argue. 

"I'm sorry." I put my arms around her. She sighed, pressing her face
against my chest, her eyes closed. I rubbed her back lightly. "But I
still want to do it." 

She stiffened in my arms, then slumped again, shoulders sinking in
surrender. I didn't want her to feel that way, but I felt that I was
right. This needed to be done. Josh couldn't live like this forever. 

"I'm sorry," I said again as she pulled away from me. She inclined her
head in acknowledgement. 

"This isn't about me, Mulder. It's not about you, either. It's about
Josh. I don't want you forcing him into this against his will." 

But would Josh voluntarily agree to this? I doubted it. But she was
right in that. Josh deserved a choice. 

She yawned and half-turned. "I'm going to get ready for bed." 

Awkward distance between us. This day had started off so well. I didn't
want to see it end like this. 
"Hey, Scully?" I called her back. 

She stopped at the door. "Yeah?" 

"Get into bed. I'll give you a backrub." 

A small smile, though the frown didn't entirely disappear. She nodded,
as if accepting my plea for forgiveness. Massages were powerful
bartering material, so I'd learned.  

She held out a hand to me, smile becoming sheepish as she yawned.
"Let's go." 

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- SCULLY POV - 

Jacqui was half an hour early - something we'd come to expect. She
turned up at six o'clock with Noah on her hip, Ebony trailing behind,
Jacqui with the usual smile struggling to mask a look of desperation.
What really stopped us all in our tracks, though, was - 

"You cut your hair." 

Her long waves were gone. Now it was cut shorter than mine. It totally
reshaped her face. 

"I've been thinking about it for a while." She smiled tightly. "Decided
to take the plunge." 

I glanced at Mulder, who had raised an eyebrow at the act of
self-mutilation. Still, it was almost a relief to see that she'd only
done this - she could have done something far crazier. 
  

Ebony huddled in the armchair while we ate. It was something we'd all
grown accustomed to, and though there were twinges of guilt that we
should be trying to solve this problem, there was also the knowledge
that we had plenty of our own to deal with. Not that we were letting
Jacqui struggle alone, but Ebony was, primarily, her responsibility.
She had to be the one to work this out, for her own sake, as much as
Ebony's.  

It had been a quiet morning - the kids had been working on assignments
and even Erin had been calmer, managing to amuse herself. Now all that
excess energy was unleashed and things got a little crazy, the kids
telling stories and chasing Erin and taking care of Noah. Jacqueline
smiled as she watched them, as if allowing herself for just an hour to
forget about her burdens. 

Maybe we *should* try to help her out, I thought. She looked so sad,
such a deep sadness weighing her down. But short of letting her simply
leave Ebony and Noah with us and walk away, what could we do? 

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- JACQUELINE POV - 

Erin was tumbling on the couch, grinning and giggling as she burrowed
into the cushions. I watched her with a joyous sort of envy, loving her
so much, wishing that she was mine, that I could take her home instead
of the silent, expressionless girl who sat in the armchair staring into
the distance, and the baby boy asleep in his stroller. 

She threw herself at me, her arms around my neck, shrieking my name,
"Duckie!!" I hugged her tiny strong body against me, wishing with all
my heart that I could just hold on to her forever. She grinned, her
elfish face puckered, and then wriggled off my lap, flying over to Fox,
who swung her up, airplane style. But after only a few seconds Erin
tired of that and started demanding to be put down. Fox let her down
and she ran into the kitchen, where Astrid was helping Dana get the
cake ready. 

Feeling a little unsettled, I went in search of Josh. He'd disappeared
into his bedroom after dinner and he was sitting on his bed against the
wall, hugging himself, his chin resting on his knees. 

"What's up, Joshie?" 

He shrugged. "Nothing. I just needed some time by myself." 

God, did I know how that felt.  

I sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh, feeling suddenly very tired,
though oddly relaxed, too, as if in escaping from Noah and Ebony I'd
given myself room to breath. Or maybe it was Josh. He was always such a
calming influence on us all.  

We sat in silence. It was surprisingly easy to do that with Josh - with
anybody else I always felt the need to fill the void, but with Josh it
was a sort of understanding that no words needed to be said.  

"You know something, Josh?" 

"What?" 

"It's five years since we first met Fox and Dana. Can you believe
that?" 

Josh gazed at me. "Feels like longer," he admitted, adding, "and
shorter." 

"How much do you remember?" I'd been wondering that for a while. Josh
retained everything. Anything that had gotten through to him would
surely be filed away somewhere in his amazing mind. But how much had
gotten through? He'd only been two. 

He shrugged. "Bits. I remember wondering why they cared so much about
us. I remember not trusting them." 

Did he remember that first time that Dana had comforted him? Did he
remember grieving over losing me, being comforted by Fox and Dana? Did
he remember being there when they married in the registry office?  

"I didn't trust them at first, either. It took longer for you." 

"They scared me." 

I looked at him curiously. "Why? They came to help us." 

"They were powerful. Complex. There was so much about them." 

"There still is," I said softly. They were still so complex, so
fascinating, incredible depth to every layer of them. It was an
enormous thing to process, to try and know. How deep did Joshie get? 

"You're still sad," he said suddenly. I was surprised, wondering where
he had made the leap, why the sudden change in direction. 

"Yeah, I am." I shrugged, trying to not care.  

"What are you going to do about it?" 

Do about it? I had no idea even where to start. My life was mess. My
life had always been a mess; life in the compound, before with the
kids, then recaptured and practically imprisoned, then one disaster
after the next with Graham and Ebony and Noah...  
Living as Cate and Roger's labrats, all I'd wanted was to free myself
and the kids. I'd stupidly thought that simply by escaping and finally
being allowed to make my own decisions and live my own life, I could
get on track. Who had I been kidding? I had made terrible choices.
Could my life have been any worse if I'd never gotten out of the
Project? 

Josh was watching me soberly. "You still have time." 

Time to do things right? But I didn't know how to move on from where
I'd found myself. I needed to wipe the slate clean and start again from
the beginning, without Ebony and Noah as weights around my neck,
constant reminders of everything that I had done wrong. I couldn't just
forget my mistakes while I still had them, and having to remember my
mistakes was just sheer hell. 

"Sometimes I just want to quit my job and move to Norway," I muttered,
trying to joke. My voice sounded hoarse and I cleared my throat. I
stood, swinging my arms, needing to move, as if even just to sit still
was another mistake closing in on me. I wanted to be anonymous. I
wasn't afraid to admit it; I wanted to run away from my problems.
Because sticking around to try and figure everything out just sounded
downright impossible. 

Do you know how lucky you are to be part of Dana and Fox's family,
Josh? I thought with sudden vehemence, gazing at him wistfully. He
looked up, meeting my eyes, and he nodded slightly. Of course he knew.
He always did. 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- ASTRID POV - 

"Foofers! Two! Foofers for me!" 

"Foofers?" Daddy echoed, gazing at the two candles on Erin's cake. He
looked up at me, as if waiting for a translation. But Erin wasn't
speaking French or Japanese or any other language that Josh and I had
taught her. 

"Baby language," I told him. 

"You go foof!" Erin explained, demonstrating by trying to blow out the
candles. Sticking out her lower lip as she blew, she missed the candles
entirely, sending the air up into her own face instead.  

It was funny to watch. She moved closer, actually standing on Daddy's
lap, and leaned almost into the cake, blowing as hard as she could. The
flames didn't even flicker. Mommy, leaning in against Daddy, talked
Erin into one last big blow, and the two of them put the candles out.
Erin shrieked in delight, throwing herself on Daddy's lap again, and
Mommy hugged the both of them, smooshing Erin against her big tummy.  

Daddy looked up at Mommy and grinned, holding onto Erin with one arm
and putting the other around Mommy's back. He always smiled so broadly
every time they so much as held hands or touched, as if he were having
great fun, as if he couldn't think of anything better. I could remember
way back when we first met them, that they'd both been all shy about
touching each other, and every time they did get brave enough they were
always both grinning so widely. He put his arm around her, still, every
opportunity he got, when they were standing together or sitting on the
couch or at the dinner table. I loved to see them like that, so happy
to just be with each other. I got scared, sometimes, when we could tell
that they were fighting with each other. It was always such a relief to
see them smiling. 

Mommy was looking so pretty tonight. She had her hair cut and it was
shorter, kinda wavy and curly. She wore more skirts and dresses now
that she was pregnant but the soft woollen cardigan that she was
wearing now made her look prettier than ever, and she was just smiling
non-stop. We hadn't thought that we would ever celebrate Erin's second
birthday. I could tell Mommy and Daddy were just ecstatic with the fact
that Erin was alive and so healthy and happy. Things were pretty
perfect. Please God, let things just be this perfect forever. 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- MULDER POV - 

I squinted in the afternoon sunlight, searching through my pockets for
my sunglasses. Scully slammed her car door closed, one hand up
shielding her eyes against the sun, the other resting on her belly. I
loved how it fell there so naturally. I knew she was finding the
pregnancy increasingly tiring but I felt as crazily in love with her as
ever. She was blooming. 

"You must be Agents Mulder and Scully." A lanky guy, a good couple of
inches taller than me, stepped forward from where he'd been lounging on
the hood of his car. He extended a hand. "Warren Litchfield. I'm your
spider expert." 

The three of us entered the hospital through the back entrance, heading
straight down to the morgue. Warren Litchfield let out a whistle when
the morgue attendant drew the sheet back, but, to his credit, he didn't
even flinch. I did. The damage done to the body was nothing short of
horrific. Even Scully winced. 

"This is incredible," Litchfield muttered, leaning closer, hand
stretched out as if to touch but only hovering. "This is just amazing.
You say this was done by tarantulas?" 

"According to the venom found in the toxicology screening." 

He gazed intently, as if studying some exquisite work of art. "Spiders
are amazing creatures, you know. But I've never seen anything like this
before. This man - it was a man?" I nodded and Litchfield continued,
clearly thrilled, "This level of decomposition is just ... You found
traces of the digestive juices when you examined the body?" I nodded
again and he stood back, shaking his head in amazement. "I can't tell
you what a discovery this is for me." 

"Why for you?" 

"I've been playing around with a theory for a couple of years now. This
is the most concrete proof I've had so far. I can get photos of the
body, right? And a copy of the tox screen?" 

"What theory is this that you believe this man's death has proven?" 

Scully indicated to the morgue attendant that we were done, and we
moved into an empty room along the hallway. Litchfield pulled a
crumpled, folded page from his pocket and handed it over for us to see.
It was scribbled diagrams, what looked like genes or cells, and then
lists of dates and measurements. "See, everybody's growing bigger,
better plants these days. Genetically enhanced, modified, whatever you
wanna call it. But when these things are changed, the whole ecosystem
is thrown out of whack. Insects feed off these modified, so-called
superior plants - such as your monkey flowers, which have been
cultivated so carefully by so-called botanists that they hardly even
resemble their native counterparts. Arachnids feed on insects, -" 

"Giving us mutated spiders," I finished for him. 

"In layman's terms, pretty much, yeah. It's like all those hormones
they pump into chickens, that are making the kids that eat them so much
taller." 

"And so you're certain the body you just saw was the result of an
attack of a mutated spider." 

"I prefer to think of them as 'evolved', but yeah. Spiders get bigger
or faster, spiders become a hell of a lot more dangerous."  

"This is your pet theory. Have you come up with any ideas how we stop
these things?" 

"Stop them? I didn't have any proof that they even existed until an
hour ago. I still don't know if I'll believe it til I can see an actual
specimen with my own eyes." 

"But say that these spiders do exist," I pushed, "resulting out of the
processes you described, we could stop them, right?" 

"Sure, why not? I mean, I don't even know for certain whether the
mutation results in them being bigger or quicker in killing and
digesting prey, or what. But they're still spiders, at the end of the
day. You catch one, you can kill it." 

That much was a relief to hear. There was nothing worse than an enemy
that couldn't be fought. 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- ASTRID POV - 

Jenna was bugging me. She was always so nice and so funny, but
sometimes she was just *too* nice and it bugged me, and I wished that I
wasn't stuck sitting next to her.  
It wasn't like they made us sit in certain seats on the bus, like some
teachers did in class, but somehow the four of us had just ended up
splitting into those two pairs and I knew that if I sat with Katrina or
Jenny instead, Jenna would get upset. I didn't want to upset her. She
was such a nice person. I was just sick of her niceness. I just felt
like I'd scream if I had to keep on being nice back to her. 

They all got off three stops before us. I smiled and waved bye and told
them that I'd see them tomorrow, and as soon as the bus rolled on I
just heaved a sigh. How could Mommy and Daddy have worked so close for
so long without getting sick to death of each other? I could never
handle being best friends with one person for long at all. Things
started out okay, but then there was always something about them that
just got to me after a while and started to drive me crazy. 

Josh was sitting by himself. There was a girl in his class he sometimes
talked to on the bus - she was a couple of years older than him but she
was short and skinny, so she only looked about my age. But she was
sitting across the other side of the bus, away from him, reading a
book. 

I pulled my bag onto my back and grabbed onto the top of the seat,
swinging myself up and half-staggering my way down the aisle so that I
could sit next to Josh. It wasn't easy to do when the bus was moving
and my heavy bag kept trying to pull me over, one way then the other. 

Joshie looked worried. That wasn't really unusual, cept that he
squeezed my hand when I sat down, and he only ever did that when things
were really bad, like when Erin had been sick or something had happened
to Mommy or Daddy.  

"What is it?" I whispered. 

"Mrs Wickham fell over and broke her hip," he said, frowning. "We've
got a substitute til she comes back." 

So Mrs Wickham fell over. He didn't even like her that much. He'd liked
his teacher last year, better. "Who have you got?" We both knew most of
the substitutes. "Mr Salt? Mrs Roosevelt? Mrs Morrow?" 

He shook his head. "Mr O'Brien. He's new." 

Josh didn't really like new people. It took him a while to trust
people. But he didn't get this upset, usually. He actually looked
scared, really freaked. What about him was -? 

"I can't hear anything from him." 

"You mean, you can't hear his thoughts?" 

Josh nodded. "I saw him following people, too." He wriggled a little
and I wondered if he was hiding something. "Watching some of the kids
in my class a lot." 

He wasn't a paedophile or anything, was he? I wondered suddenly. Yuck.
I didn't want to think about that. 

"I don't think that's it," Josh said quietly. I wondered how our
conversation would seem to somebody listening in, only half of it
actually spoken, the rest made of thoughts and gestures. I did it
intentionally only sometimes, when I was too scared to ask aloud, when
it was too private or just horrible to voice. Sometimes when it wasn't
intentional, when it was just me thinking, I felt a little weirded out
by it and sometimes a bit angry, too. But it wasn't as if he had any
control over it. I had to remember that. 

"Maybe I'm just being paranoid," Josh said slowly. "Maybe I'm wrong." 

"Probably," I agreed quickly. But was Joshie ever wrong? I couldn't
remember the last time he'd made a mistake.  

Feeling uncomfortable, I jumped up as soon as the bus started to slow
for our stop. Kathy had walked with Erin to meet us and I ran out to
hug Erin hello. She always got so excited about seeing us, like she'd
been waiting all day for us to come home again. How strange would our
lives be if Erin had really died, I thought. We wouldn't have Kathy
around, either. We wouldn't have anybody to hug when we got home from
school or anybody to tell about our day. It would just be me and Joshie
in the apartment for hours and hours til Mommy and Daddy got home from
work. That was strange to think about. 
  

We had an afternoon snack and played with Erin for a bit, then Kathy
told us to get to our homework. I only had some math to do but Joshie
had history and needed a book he'd forgotten to bring home from school.
Kathy said that she'd take him back up to get it from his classroom but
he told her they could get it at the local library instead. I wondered
if it was maybe because of Mr O'Brien that Josh didn't want to go back
to school. Maybe Josh was just being paranoid. I mean, he was *always*
paranoid.  

Kathy and Josh left, and it was just Erin and me in the apartment. I
liked that. It gave me some space to be by myself but it also made me
feel grown up. The whole apartment was mine to take care of til they
came back, mine to rule. I could chase Erin around the apartment and be
as crazy as we wanted, as long as everything looked normal when Kathy
came back. I could also go sneaking. 

I didn't snoop that often. Usually just looking for birthday or
Christmas presents, or maybe a case that Mommy and Daddy had stuck away
somewhere not wanting us to see. Sometimes I went through their
wardrobes, not looking for anything in particular, just liking to touch
their clothes and smell their scents everywhere. But lately there was
something special that I'd been drawn to every time I could be sure
somebody wasn't going to walk in on me. 
  

Making sure Erin was busy playing with her trucks in front of the TV, I
pulled open Mommy's top-left dresser drawer and pulled the big woollen
sweaters out, carefully laying them on the bed. It was a strange drawer
to put sweaters in, but Mommy had had to move everything around when
Erin started to crawl and walk. 

I yanked the drawer out, as far as it would come, and then reached
under the last sweater. My fingertips touched the leather of the
holster and I got a better grip, pulling it out and holding it with two
hands.  

It was only Mommy's spare weapon, so she didn't keep it loaded, and she
kept the bullets in a box in the drawer beside the gun. Daddy kept his
loaded, I knew, which was why it was kept on a shelf high in their
closet - with the safety on, of course. 

I slid the gun out of the holster, running my fingers over it. I got
thrills just looking at it, imagining myself running in and shouting
"FBI! Freeze!" like Mom or Dad. I wanted to feel all powerful and
adult. Not a crazy psycho running around trying to shoot people, but
somebody who could protect others. 

I got a proper two-handed grip on the gun, pointing it at the mirror,
trying to look all serious and professional. It was kinda weird, seeing
myself holding a weapon, but it made me feel grown up, too, and I
grinned. Then I just looked stupid.  
I checked, just to be absolutely certain, that the clip was empty, then
I played with flicking the safety on and off, drawing the gun as
quickly as I could, then aiming and pretending to fire. It was silly, I
knew, but I wanted to practise now.  

"Ted? Teddddddd..." 

I felt my heart drop, then start to thud, as Erin's voice came closer.
I flicked the safety back on and tossed the gun back in the drawer,
stuffing in Mommy's sweaters and trying to push it closed. But the
sweaters had come unfolded and were taking up too much room. The drawer
wouldn't close.  

"Ted! Ted, we play now? Ted..." 

I heaved a sigh, willing my heart to slow down as she tugged at my leg.
What was I freaking about, anyway? Erin didn't understand or even care
what I was doing.  

I smiled at her. "We'll play in a minute, okay? You go decide what
we're playing and get started. I'll be out there in a minute." 

She nodded, smiled at me, and trotted out again. I smiled at how silly
I'd been, both with the gun and then being so scared about getting
caught by Erin. After all, Erin talked so much nonsense all of the time
that even if she did tell Mommy or Daddy what little she'd seen, they'd
just think it was another one of her incoherent stories. 

I turned back to the drawer, pulling out the sweaters and carefully
folding them, packing them neatly back in. The drawer slid closed
easily and I smiled, feeling a little sheepish about what I'd done, and
only the teensiest bit guilty. After all, Mommy and Daddy and
Jacqueline all carried guns with them every day. What harm was I doing
in just playing with an empty one for a couple of minutes? I'd earned
the responsibility. 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- SCULLY POV - 

I stood, leaning heavily against the doorjamb, watching as Mulder
kicked off his shoes, tossed his jacket on our rumpled bedcovers,
followed by his shirt and trousers as he pulled on his jeans and a
t-shirt and a dark v-neck sweater. He was always so messy with his
clothes, despite my efforts over the years, but I didn't say anything.
I was tired, but I felt content, just standing there in the dark,
watching him. He was aware of my presence but not bothered by it, not
self-conscious in any way. I was glad that he didn't mind. I liked to
just enjoy the silent simplicity of such moments.  

He tossed himself on the bed, beckoning me toward him. I moved to the
foot of the bed but then shook my head when he motioned for me to join
him. "I won't be able to get up again."  

He pouted sympathetically, drawing himself up and lumbering toward me
on his knees, wrapping his arms around me and pressing his face against
my stomach, snuffling. I smiled tiredly, ruffling his hair, letting
myself lean in against him just a little. So tired... 

"Dinner," I murmured, cupping the sides of his face, bending a little
to kiss his forehead. "You're in charge." 

That had become the usual. He didn't seem to mind - he usually
commissioned one of the kids to help.  

He climbed off the bed, getting to his feet. "Craving anything in
particular?" 

I smiled. We'd had fish the last three nights. "Not tonight. You can
choose." 

He nodded, his hands on my face, smoothing my cheeks with his thumbs. I
must have looked tired. "You rest, now. I'll take care of things." 
  

I took a shower, almost falling asleep under the rhythmic stream of hot
water. I put on pajamas, though it was still early, and curled up on
the bed, feeling myself just sinking into the covers, every tensed
muscle finally relaxing. I sighed, exhausted, not wanting to move or
even hardly breathe, but just to lay there and let my mind rest as my
body gathered energy. 

"Mommy? Are you awake?" 

It was Astrid. I let out a murmur of acknowledgement and she came
around to my side of the bed, climbing up beside me.  

"Daddy said you were tired." 

"Just a little. What's up?" 

"Nothing much. I just wanted to talk to you." 

She wriggled a little closer, putting her hand on my belly, tracing the
baby's kicks. "She moves around a lot, huh?" 

It was true. This baby never seemed to stop.  

"What does it feel like? Having a baby growing inside you, I mean?" 

I smiled at her. "It's hard to describe. It's... special." 

She nodded intently.  

"You sure nothing's up, sweetie?" I looked at her closely. "You're
quiet." 

She shook her head, pulling back from me. "I'm okay. You get some
rest." 

It got a little frustrating, being constantly told to rest, but at
least now I felt the urgings were warranted. I couldn't keep up long
days like this. I knew that, but I didn't want to stop. I could make it
just a little longer... 

I yawned, closing my eyes with a sigh. I'd think about that later.
Right now, rest. 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- MULDER POV - 

He didn't say a word as he helped me prepare dinner. He followed all
instructions, monitored the rice steamer, mashed peas and carrots and
potato together for Erin, all without barely looking at me. Something
was on his mind, and I wanted to know what it was. Was it something
that he had heard somebody think? Was it something that he saw looming
on the horizon but was helpless to prevent? But he didn't seem to be
quite panicking. He seemed more puzzled than anything else, as if he
had read something that didn't quite seem right, but something he
couldn't put his finger on. 

Josh? 

No response. 

Josh, what's on your mind, buddy? 

This time he looked up at me, eyes accusing in a disappointed sort of
way. I was letting him down? 

"I want to help you, Josh." 

He bit his lip, focusing on Erin's dinner as he mashed in the chicken
soup flavouring. Erin didn't like the chicken kiev the rest of us were
eating. We made a lot of compromises to her picky appetite. We made a
lot of compromises because we all adored her absolutely. Would that
change with this new baby? We spent far less time focusing on Josh and
Astrid now than we had, before Erin was born. It wasn't intentional. It
had just happened. They'd let Erin be the child and become grownups, as
if there wasn't room for all three of them to still be kids. Should we
have spent more time with the kids the past two years? Should we have
not allowed them to become so adult? Would we have prevented these
problems that Josh was having now? 

Josh was shaking his head, looking almost overwhelmed. I stopped,
realising that the volley of questions shooting through my mind were
reaching him loud and clear. No wonder he looked as if he were about to
fall over. My mind was ticking over faster than I could have voiced the
thoughts. It was a lot of adult thought for a seven year old to handle
in only a few seconds. 

I looked at his white knuckles as he gripped the edge of the kitchen
counter. How could I stop myself from putting him through that? How
could I control my thoughts? 

I'm sorry, kid.  

He nodded, almost imperceptibly. His grip on the counter seemed to
relax a little and he kept mashing the potato mix.  

"How about you tell me what's on your mind?" I asked gently, adding,
"Save the both of us from having me guess." 

A tiny smile at that. A thanks for being understood, maybe. 

"A new substitute teacher at school," he said quietly. "Mr O'Brien." 

"What about him?"  

"I see him following kids around. I felt him watching me." 

He wasn't -? 

"No. But... I can't hear his thoughts." Josh looked up at me unhappily.
"I think, though, that he knows that I'm different." 

"You think he's seeking you out?" 

He nodded. "But I don't know why." The white knuckles were back. He
looked so small, so uncertain, so afraid. He was wise beyond his years;
wise enough to know how powerless he was, how powerful the evil in the
world was. Most kids had the luxury of not realising that for at least
a few more years. 

"We'll check this O'Brien guy out for you," I said gently. "How does
that sound?" 

He nodded. "Thank you." 

I crouched down and pulled him against me. He was so fragile,
physically so vulnerable. He didn't have that strength that radiated
from Astrid, keeping her safe. Josh was always hiding. 

You'll be okay, kiddo. We'll look after you.  
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- SCULLY POV - 

They let me sleep through dinner. I wandered out just before eight,
heating the cold chicken and rice in the microwave, pulling back a
chair at the dinner table opposite Mulder as he poured over some
information Warren Litchfield had given us. After watching him for a
few minutes, I realised something. He wasn't thinking about spiders.
His gaze at the photocopied pages was distant, his mind elsewhere. 

"Mulder?" 

He looked up, startled. Back to earth. "Yeah?" 

"Wanna tell me what you're thinking about?" 

He glanced around. Josh was out of sight - in his room, I'd guessed.
Astrid was tapping away at her laptop, set up on the coffee table in
front of the TV. Erin was playing with her blocks, looking sleepy. Past
her bedtime. 
"Josh thinks there's something ...unusual ... about his new
substitute." 

Did our family see x-files everywhere? I wondered.  

"What's so unusual about her?" 

"It's a him, and Josh can't hear any thoughts from him. He also thinks
that the guy is watching and following certain kids in the class." 

"Including Josh?" 

"Yeah. Josh wonders if the teacher knows that he's different." 

"Different how? Because he reads people's minds?" 

"Maybe because of the project, the way he was born." 

"You think... You think the project is keeping tabs on the kids?" 

"It's not impossible. Graham was assigned to Jacqueline." 

But they'd left us and the kids alone. We'd escaped it all. Or had we? 

I shook my head. I didn't like it at all.  

"What about Josh not hearing any thoughts? What does that mean? They're
using some sort of mind trick to block him? How do they even know what
he's capable of? They haven't done any tests on him since he was two.
We're the only ones who he's told he hears voices. How do they know
they need to protect their thoughts from him?"  

I felt unsettled. How could we stop them? How could we protect him? 

Mulder chewed on his lower lip, thinking it through. "Maybe it's not
somebody from the project. Maybe it's somebody, or something, entirely
different." 

"We're talking about a man here, Mulder." 

He smiled. "We're talking about something that looks like a man." 

We did see x-files everywhere. I smiled, shaking my head, but then I
sobered again. This wasn't just an x-file. This was Josh's problem, and
now it was our problem. We had to solve it before it hurt him too
much.  

I drew a deep breath, moving my food around on my plate, no longer
hungry. "We'll check this guy out," I said finally. "See what Astrid
says, ask around the school. Maybe Josh is just being paranoid." 

Mulder half-smiled. "Runs in the family." Then his smile grew grim. "Of
course, we're usually right." 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- ASTRID POV - 

Mommy used to read us bedtime stories. I remember that. Nowdays it's
Erin who gets the stories, and I always feel kinda funny if I stop to
watch them, because I remember Mommy sitting next to me on my bed - or
really, me trying to fit alongside her huge pregnant tummy - and she'd
have her feet up on some pillows and rest the story book against her
tummy as she read. I remember even before she was pregnant with Erin,
before Erin was even thought about. That was a really long time ago. It
was so different back then, just me and Josh and Mommy and Daddy. We
called them Mommy and Daddy, but I remember still thinking of them
sometimes as Dana and Fox. They didn't feel like my parents, then. I
knew that they loved us but it didn't feel like a family. Not til Erin
came along. Then it became more like a real family, except suddenly
Erin was the centre of everything. She was most important.  

"Next page! Next!" 

"We're not finished this page yet, sweetie. Let's see if we can count
how many butterflies there are?" 

"Seven. Next page!" 

Erin was still most important. I didn't really mind, I guess, but I
knew it was unfair. I just didn't know what to do about it. 

"Ted!!" Erin saw me and jumped off the bed, throwing her arms around
me. I picked her up and she pressed her face against mine, grinning.  

"Back here," Mommy scolded, smiling. "You're supposed to be getting
sleepy." 

I lugged Erin back to the bed. Mommy and Daddy were trying to get Erin
adjusted to sleeping in the lower bunk in my room, before the new baby
came along. They knew it was going to take a while to sort out and I
guessed it was better to do now, before they had the new baby crying
through the night and everything. But it was already driving everybody
crazy, trying to get her settled. Erin loved her room. She didn't want
to leave it. 

"Are we going to finish the story?" Mommy asked patiently. I was trying
to leave but Erin wouldn't let go of me. 

"Ted stay!" she demanded. 

Mommy caught my eye and shrugged. It was up to me. I nodded, climbing
on the edge of the bed as Erin climbed over to Mommy's other side. It
was a bit of a squish but it was nice to just be close to Mommy and
pretend it was two years ago and that it was Erin growing inside her. 

"Is this a girls only meeting or can I join you?" Daddy asked, stooping
to see us in the lower bunk. I realised suddenly that once this new
baby was born there'd be four girls - Mommy included, that was - in our
family. That was a lot. Daddy and Josh were going to be really
outnumbered. 

"Not much more room on the bed," Mommy answered, smiling at him.  

Daddy grinned. "There's always room for one more." But he only sat on
the floor beside the bed, resting his head against Mommy's side. She
reached down with her spare hand to touch his hair and he caught her
hand and bent his head to kiss it, his eyelashes fluttering. I loved to
see them together. Every touch was always so special, even now. No
wonder Duckie was always so jealous of Mommy. 

Erin climbed back over Mommy, landing in Daddy's lap, and kneeling on
his legs to be able to see the book. Mommy smiled, and kept reading. 

I loved being a part of their lives and their family. I couldn't wait
for my new baby sister to come into our lives. But I envied her too,
already. Because she, like Erin, was really and wholly theirs. No
matter what we did, Josh and I could never be that. 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- SCULLY POV - 

Astrid had always been the loud one. Jumping up and down, always
grinning, always with some news to share and hugs to give and receive.
And while Astrid was still the strong one, now it was Erin who filled
the apartment with stubborn tantrums and giggles and shrieks of
delight, as if we could only have one bright and bubbly daughter and
Astrid had relinquished that role to her little sister. Was it
something we had said or done, or was it simply that Astrid herself was
growing up? Either way, it saddened me. I missed her bright naivete,
how uncomplicated our relationship had been. She had become, like Josh,
too wise to simply be read a bedtime story or to bake cookies with. She
wasn't my unthinking, innocent little girl any more - or, as much as
she had ever been. 

I finished Erin's story and said goodnight, leaving Mulder to handle
actually getting her to sleep.  Astrid left the room, back to whatever
she had been doing, I presumed. I followed after her and found her
spread out along the couch, remote in hand, watching TV. She was going
through a TV junkie phase - there were half a dozen programs she was
officially addicted to, which meant she now seemed to spend most of her
free time either watching or rewatching the latest episodes, video
tapes strewn on the floor, big red circles all through the TV guide. We
knew it, like every other phase, would pass sooner or later. Her
interest would begin to dwindle, then she'd drop it and be off in
pursuit of her next obsession before her Amazon-ordered 'Official
Guides To' had arrived.  

I stood beside the couch. "What's on?" 

"Get Smart on Nick at Night." She shrugged. "Nothing better." 

"Bill and Missy and I used to watch that." I smiled at the memory.
"Charlie wasn't allowed to stay up as late as we were. Mom and Dad
always-" 

She interrupted me with sudden impatience. "Your memories are different
from mine." She pointed the remote at the TV and flipped quickly
through the channels.  

"Yeah, they are," I agreed cautiously, a little surprised by her mood,
not sure what was up. 

"You didn't have to be the oldest." 

"Is it so bad being the oldest?" 

"It's been so long since you read me and Josh bedtime stories," she
whined, adding sulkily, "I bet you don't even remember it." 

"Of course I remember. You always sat on my right, and Josh on my left.
If Daddy was there he'd be on your right, so that you were between us,
and you'd hold the book." 

She wouldn't look at me. Something had stirred up those oh-so
adolescent feelings of displacement. How many times would we have to
tell Astrid that we loved her no matter what for her to never doubt it
again?  

Standing, my back was starting to ache. End of a long day. I pushed
Astrid's feet aside and eased myself down on the couch. She pulled
herself upright and wriggled across to me, burrowing as close as she
could, pulling my arm around her with a sniffle, wiping her nose with
the back of her hand. Not all of the childishness had gone forever.  

"Tell me what else you remember," she demanded. I hugged her tightly.
My darling, insecure Astrid.  

"I remember the first time we met you and Josh and Jacqui, in the
interrogation room at the police station. You and Joshie were both so
little, with these huge eyes and all this beautiful curly hair." I
touched hers as I spoke and she sniffled again. "You were counting, I
remember. It panicked Jacqueline, because you were only four and you
were so clever. You were counting the tiles along the top of the wall,
and you were only one off." 

She shook her head. "I was right. There were only sixty-four. I counted
twice. Daddy got it wrong." 

"Really?" I smiled. "You never told me that before." 

A shrug. "Tell me what else." 

I thought it through. "Jacqui was holding Josh asleep on her lap. He
was so tiny, then. About the size Erin is now, though it's hard to
believe. Mulder was trying to get a confession out of Jacqui and they
both had their voices raised. Josh woke up and he wanted his mom. I
remember exactly what Jacqui said when she soothed him - she said,
Mommy's here." 

"The people at the compound used to refer to Cate as our Mom," Astrid
explained, quiet. "It got confusing, because Duckie always referred to
them as Cate and Roger, but when other people talked to us they called
them Mommy and Daddy. Joshie used to get confused, especially when he
was sleepy. I guess I did, too, when I was his age. I don't remember so
well." 

"What do you remember from then?" I was curious. 

"I remember that I didn't know that I was different. I didn't like them
but I just thought it was normal, to be learning math and reading and
writing all the time and to have people taking notes when I was just
playing with a ball or doing a puzzle by myself. But I remember, too,
that Duckie used to read stories to us, and the people in the stories
she read always sounded so different from us. They had parents who
tucked them into bed at night and they went to school and to the
movies... Instead, I had a Duckie, who used to wake me up at
six-thirty-five every morning and give me a line of poetry to memorise
while she got Josh up and dressed. Cate and Roger used to leave for
work at six-thirty, on the dot. Sometimes, when I woke up early, I lay
there and I heard them arguing with each other or with Duckie before
they left. It was always strange to hear because I almost never saw
them. They almost didn't exist for me." 

"You spent most of your days at the compound?" 

"After Duckie got us up we all had breakfast. The breakfast bowls were
all plain white, all the same. I dropped one once and it got a chip in
it. I used it again the next day and then the day after that, because
it was different and it was mine. But then Cate found it and threw it
out." There was anger in her I'd only before felt in Jacqueline. I
hadn't really considered before the amount of memories that Astrid must
hold in her mind. I knew that they could remember feelings, but I
hadn't expected this sort of detail of every day life, even from such
special kids. 

"In Winter it was still dark outside, sometimes," Astrid continued,
"and we had to have the kitchen light on as we ate. None of us ever
talked much at that time of morning. It was always quiet."  

"What happened after breakfast?" 

"Elle came to pick us up and drive us to the compound." 

"Elle?" 

"That was what Josh and I called her. Duckie called her Dr L. She
worked with Cate and Roger. She never talked to us, just drove up at
half past seven and beeped once. We had to have breakfast washed up and
be ready to go, otherwise Duckie got in trouble." 

"What happened when she got into trouble?" 

Hesitation, then a shrug. "I don't know. I guess Cate and Roger yelled
at her some more. Elle didn't like having to wait for us, because it
made her late. I don't think she liked us, at all. She never talked to
us when we were in the car - we always had to sit still and be quiet.
She must have worked in a different part of the compound because we
never saw her except in the mornings, at least. Driving us there was
just a part of her job she couldn't get rid of." 

"And once you got there?" 

"We went to the playroom, usually. Each of us had a tutor and a part of
the room where we worked with them from eight til ten." 

"Do you remember your tutor's name?" 

"Eric. I didn't know his last name. Last names didn't matter at the
compound. He was always impatient. I don't know why, cos I always tried
hard to learn everything. I don't think he wanted the job, either.
Nobody really seemed to want to work with us. They were all researchers
and everything. It was just because they didn't want to bring anybody
in from the outside, they had to use who they had." 

"What happened at ten?" 

"We were allowed half an hour to play, usually with some new toy they
wanted us to try out. Sometimes they took us outside. They had a park
build outside, when I was three. There were swings and slides and
tunnels and everything, but they didn't let us out there, much. I think
they were afraid we'd hurt ourselves, even though they knew he had
accelerated healing. I don't think they liked being outside much,
either." 

"After play time?" I knew I was pushing her, but I wanted to hear
everything she could tell me about their lives. The more we knew, the
better we could understand Josh and Astrid, surely. I was fascinated,
in a morbid sort of way. No wonder they seemed so wise, sometimes. They
had lived a life before we even met them. Could I remember being four,
or anything before it? I didn't think so. My early memories were more
feelings than memories; being curious, being jealous, being happy. It
was a blur of birthdays and Christmasses and fighting with siblings and
playing with kids on the naval bases, and missing my father, who was
out at sea, or playing with him when he was home. With age the memories
became more distinct, more detailed. I could recall exactly what I was
doing the day I found out my Sunday school had been murdered, those
agonizing hours waiting by the phone for my very first boyfriend to
call me for the first time, sitting in an auditorium to receive an
award for science in the sixth grade. Astrid was right - her memories
were different. She had it all recorded and filed away in her mind.
From when? When had that clarity developed? 

"After play time we went back to work for another two hours. Usually we
- Eric and I - did reading and writing and some science in the morning,
then math from ten-thirty to twelve-thirty. Then at twelve-thirty we
had lunch. We weren't allowed to eat in the playroom - they took us
into the kitchen down the hall. The food was already made by the time
we got there, though. I don't know who made it. It was real food, not
from the cafeteria or anything. I always got a sandwich, a piece of
fruit, and a glass of milk. They usually left us - me, Duckie and Josh
- alone so we could eat. We were supposed to eat everything on our
plate, but Joshie couldn't always, so Duckie finished for him, even
though they always gave her two sandwiches. I never wanted to drink the
milk." 

"Why not?" 

"They used to put vitamin supplements and other things in it. It tasted
different every week, because they always changed their mind what we
needed. But the milk never covered the taste. Sometimes it was really
horrible. I used to spit it back out again. When it was really bad,
Duckie let us tip it down the sink. She was always scared to, though,
because sometimes they'd activate the security cameras and be watching
us have lunch. She didn't want to be caught letting us misbehave. She
was always scared that they'd separate us from her." 

"Were you scared of that?" 

"I didn't know them as well as Duckie did. She was always protecting us
from them. I guess they didn't seem so scary, because of that. We
didn't know what it would be like, how they would treat us." She
shifted, pulling my arm closer around her. "After lunch it was back in
the classroom, for whatever language they were teaching us right then.
Some languages Duckie was allowed to teach us, because whoever had
taught her didn't work there any more. That went for an hour, then I
had half an hour of science and we had half an hour on the computers.
They let us play games, sometimes, which was kinda fun, though we knew
they were watching how well we were playing. Then from three to five we
had music or art, though on some days from four til five we saw the
psychologist - I went on Wednesdays, every week - or the doctor for our
weekly checkups. My day was Friday, for that." 

"What sort of checkup was it?" 

A shrug. "Blood test. Checking our heart and lungs and whatever.
Testing reflexes. The usual stuff. It wasn't scary or anything. We had
to do it as long as I remembered." 

"What did you do with the psychologist?" 

"He always asked lots of questions. Sometimes there were exercises,
testing our IQs, that sort of thing, but most of the time it was just
questions. One week they wouldn't let us do any art or music or
languages or play any games, it was all just math and science. That
week my checkup with the psychologist went on forever. He wanted to
know how I was responding, whether I was angry at them for not letting
me be creative. They were always doing stuff like that. Kinda tweaking
the schedule, trying to see how we'd react to changes. Maybe they
thought that if they pushed the right buttons we'd go crazy and try to
kill them..." She trailed off. Did she know that Jacqueline was
responsible for their parents' deaths? I wondered. 

"You went home at five?" 

"Sometimes we finished at four. It depended on whether we'd finished
our work for the day. Darin was usually the one who took us home. Cate
and Roger worked until seven or eight, most nights." 

"What happened at home?" 

"Duckie always went to her room as soon as we got home. I think she
used to cry. She really hated everybody at the compound. Sometimes Josh
and I would read a book together or play a game, until Duckie came out
again, then she'd make dinner. We ate at six every night, then we'd try
to help wash up, though Duckie was always afraid we'd break something
and get into trouble. After dinner we were allowed to just play with
our toys or do some drawings, though the toys at the house were all old
ones from the compound, that they'd already studied us playing with. We
didn't have a TV - not at the house or at the compound - but sometimes
Duckie would help me put on a show. We'd make sets and costumes and
props and write a script and everything. We had to hide those things
when we went to bed, though. Duckie always warned me that they wouldn't
like us doing those sorts of things at home, because they weren't able
to control what we did. I wonder if they had cameras in the house. I
don't remember, but they probably did. Maybe they were so well hidden
that Duckie didn't know about them." 

Cameras in the house? I hadn't even thought of that. What if there'd
been a camera in the bedroom or out in the hallway that had recorded
Jacqueline shooting her parents? 

"Anyway." Astrid shook herself a little. "Josh went to bed at seven. I
was allowed to stay up til seven-thirty, but I wasn't allowed
downstairs once Cate and Roger got home. We could hear their car, then
the front door and them coming in, putting their keys down. Sometimes
they had dinner at home but I think mostly they had it at work. When
they came home the first thing they usually did was for Roger to was
mix himself a drink and for Cate to pull out all their notes from the
day. The dining room table was where they always worked. Sometimes I'd
hide at the top of the stairs and watch them for a bit. That was
basically the only time I ever saw them. When I was lying in bed I
could hear them talking - about us, sometimes. Duckie kept away from
them at night, too, though sometimes they called her down because they
wanted to show her some of their research or tell her off for
something. She never really yelled back at them, just took it when they
yelled at her. But it was still terrible to listen to. Sometimes I'd
sneak into Joshie's room because I knew he was awake and listening to
it, too. Then when we heard footsteps coming upstairs I'd have to run
back to my room. If it was Rodca I would be in trouble, because we were
supposed to stay in our own bed once we'd been said goodnight to. But
if it was Duckie she was more upset about the fighting than the rules.
She'd come into my room and sit beside my bed and cry for a bit, when
it was really bad. Then she'd tuck me in properly and say goodnight.
She always said goodnight the same way - 'We won't be here forever.'"
Astrid's voice was quiet, hitching a little. I couldn't quite pinpoint
what emotion she was dealing with as she delved back into her past.
Sorrow? Nostalgia? Anger? She sounded a little detatched, hurt but
trying to be offhand. 

"She was right," I said gently. She was starting to cry. I stroked her
hair, soothing her. She wriggled her arms around me, hugging me as
closely as she could as she sniffled and sobbed. 
"And," I added, "you were happier, right? You and Joshie got to be with
us." 

"You didn't want us, not really." 

"Of course we wanted, you sweetie." 

"You and Daddy argued -" 

"We argued because it meant changing our relationship. That was
something we were scared to do. But we did it and everything worked
out." 

She pulled away from me, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "What did you
think about me, honestly?" 

I smiled. "You smiled at me and I wished that you were mine." 

"Really?" 

"Really." 

More sniffles. "I miss being important." 

"You're still important, Astrid." 

"Erin -" 

"Erin's important, too. Josh is important. This new baby is important.
You all mean so much to us. But you're our big girl. You're the one
who's brave and strong and responsible. You're a fighter. You're there
to protect Josh and Erin when Daddy and I aren't." 

"You think I'm strong like you and Daddy?" 

"Absolutely." 

A deep breath, then she exhaled, still shaky. I looked at the clock.
Going on nine. Still relatively early for all of us but it had been a
long, long day. 

I nudged her gently. "How about you go get ready for bed?" 

She nodded, pulling away from me and climbing off the couch. She stood
for a second, wiping away the last tears, then she flew at me, hugging
me again tightly. "I love you, Mommy." 

"I love you too, Astrid. Don't doubt that. Don't ever think you matter
any less than Josh, or Erin, or this new baby." 

"Hannah." 

"Hannah?" 

"Call her Hannah." 

"Why? Does it mean something special?" 

"It means God's grace." 

I smiled, letting go of her and watching her leave the room. The name
was fitting, certainly. As was Astrid's. Astrid, our strength.  
I rose from the couch with a sigh, well and truly ready to call it a
night. But first, it was time to tuck my big girl into bed. 

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- MULDER POV - 

Thursday afternoons, 4.30pm, was our regularly scheduled meeting time
with the school counsellor, Mrs Preston, for updates on Josh and
Astrid. This week, though, the meeting had been moved to 8.30am. The
kids had liked the change - they'd been able to get a lift with us,
rather than having to catch the school bus. But if this meeting ran on
too long, Scully and I were going to be late to work. 
  

Mrs Preston sifted through a folder and spread some notes out on the
desk in front of her, glancing over them before looking up at us.  
"Astrid's teacher has reported that work and behaviour have been less
erratic lately," she began, adding frankly, "But I'm worried about
Josh." 

We were silent, waiting for her to go on. 

"You said that you had put him on medication for an iron deficiency,
yes?" Scully nodded, looking troubled, and the counsellor pursed her
lips. "According to Elsie Wickham, his teacher, late last week he still
seemed tired in class, and was barely concentrating at all." 

I knew why Josh couldn't concentrate in class. Who could, surrounded by
dozens of people thinking loud thoughts? It must be overwhelming. No
wonder Josh just wished it would all stop. Poor kid. But what could we
do? Lock him away by himself? 

I picked my words carefully. "Josh is very... sensitive... to those
around him." 

"He's a very sensitive child," the counsellor agreed, watching me
carefully. 

"Maybe he would benefit from having some space in the classroom away
from the other students, whenever he needs to concentrate." 

"Mr Mulder, we do our best to treat each child individually here, but
there are limits to what we can do before the entire class is
disrupted." 

He's struggling just to hear his own thoughts above the rest, I wanted
to tell her. He's suffering because of something he was born with,
something that didn't come with an 'off' switch.  
Frustration rose up in me but I kept my temper. Josh trusted us to keep
that secret. We couldn't make things harder for him than they already
were. 

"Can you just try it, please? Just give him a space of his own where he
can hear his own thoughts? Try it for a week." 

Mrs Preston tilted her head in acknowledgement. "I suppose I don't see
the harm in trying for a week. I'll ask his substitute teacher to
report back to me-" 

Scully and I exchanged glances. I cleared my throat. "Actually, Josh
has expressed some concern about this particular substitute teacher." 

"Marcus O'Brien comes highly recommended. He handles the class
brilliantly. What exactly was Joshua's concern?" 

Scully glanced across at me as she searched for words. "Josh feels...
threatened. He is a little concerned about the way Mr O'Brien interacts
with and watches the students. He feels there's a strong possibility
that a student may be physically or psychologically harmed." 

The counsellor frowned. "That's a serious accusation." 

"Josh is a pretty serious kid," I answered. She knew that. She knew how
perceptive he was. That was why it worried her. 

Still frowning, Mrs Preston moved to a bookshelf at the side of the
room, selecting a thick-spined plastic folder. Pulling it open, she
sorted through pages. They were class rolls. It was open to Josh's
class. She then flipped open a slim appointment book, opening to today.
It took me a few seconds to find us, pencilled in for 8.30. Our usual
timeslot had swallowed up in a three hour workshop. The rest of the day
was full - both for counselling sessions for students, and updates for
parents. That surprised me. Usually if we had to move an appointment it
was easy enough to find another time.  

I glanced at the roll page, then at the diary. Reading upsidedown was a
little awkward and I was only half way down the diary page when Mrs
Preston snapped it shut. But I'd seen enough to realise something was
going on. Almost all of the kids in the appointment book - nine or ten
of them just for that day - were in Josh's class. That was half the
class. What the hell was going on? 

Scully was watching me, wanting to know what I'd discovered. I just
gazed at her, shrugging. Something's up. I don't know what, yet. 

I turned back to the desk and leaned forward. "I assume you checked
this man's background?" 

Mrs Preston looked up. "Of course. He's never had so much as a parking
ticket. Came with excellent references. I've seen for myself what a
fantastic teacher he is." 

"You've sat in on a class?" 

"Not this time. He was subbing for us a couple of months ago, just for
a week or two. One of the older classes. A difficult class, too; our
most boisterous boys. I checked in a couple of times but he didn't seem
to have any problems controlling them. That's quite a feat." 

"But you don't think he's capable of this? You didn't feel in any way
that his presence or his behaviour were threatening?" 

She straightened. "Mr Mulder, I know you're a Federal Agent, but I'd
prefer that this not become an investigation. We'll handle this
ourselves." 

"I'm a parent, too, Mrs Preston. I just want to know my kids are safe."

The counsellor nodded and sighed, still frowning a little. "If Josh
believes that he and other students are genuinely at risk, I believe
him. I'll speak to the principal about it, see if we can call an
assembly for the entire school this afternoon. We're about due for the
annual 'stranger danger' talk." 
She glanced at her watch. "If you'll excuse me, Mr Mulder, Ms Scully,
I've got another appointment now..." 

We stood, thanking her. Scully turned to leave, but I waited. "Can I
just ask you one question?" 

"Yes, Mr Mulder?" 

"The students in Josh's class who are affected... Is there something
connecting them all?" 

She hesitated, as if not sure whether she should disclose the
information. But she must have trusted what she saw in my eyes. 
"They were on my red list," she said slowly. 

"Red list?" 

"A list of the students whose progress I feel should be monitored
carefully. Some of our students are so bright... well, as they say,
it's a fine line between genius and insanity. We've had students go
over the edge in the past. And, of course, there's the students prone
to anxiety, nightmares... those who have had trouble coping in the past
because of some inherent or external stress." 

"Josh is on that list?" 

She nodded. 

"Astrid?" 

Another nod. "Yes." 

I sighed, tired. I should have known that both of them were on the
list, yet I'd irrationally held out hope for Astrid. She had tremendous
resilience. But when she lost it, she just fell apart. 

We thanked her again, and I followed Scully out. I laid my hand on her
back briefly, but then sought her hand. She grasped it firmly, our
fingers interlocked, and squeezed gently. We're all alive and healthy.
We have so much to be thankful for. We can deal with this. 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- SCULLY POV - 

"I thought that if I could just forget about him... but I'm too scared
to. I need to keep track of him, because I know he's not just going to
forget about me, and I need to know where his is and what he's
plotting. He's going to come for Ebony, I know he will. But I don't
know whether he's just going to try and snatch her or whether... God,
he could do anything. I'm scared of what he's going to do to me. I
mean, what if he just breaks into my apartment and shoots me dead while
I sleep? That's the least he's likely to do. What if -" 

I interrupted the panicky ramblings. "Calm down, Jacqui. Just take a
deep breath, okay?" 
I rubbed at my eyes, tired. This wasn't the first phone call of this
sort I'd gotten from her. Being alone in her apartment with just Noah
and Ebony for too long freaked her out. It brought all her fears to the
surface. I empathised with her, but I had no answer, nor the energy to
search for one. I felt stretched trying to deal with the kids, worrying
about Josh, apprehensive as I waited for this new baby. Jacqueline and
her problems were an extra load I just couldn't carry.  

"I'm sorry I keep running to you, Dana," Jacqui sniffled. "I feel so
ashamed that I'm being so childish about it all, but I just don't know
what to do any more. I tell myself that I can keep going but it's just
so hard..." 

Her therapist had put her on anti-depressants but it didn't seem to be
doing much. She had to be careful that her work didn't suffer. That was
the only thing that was keeping her going, I thought. If she lost
that... 

I told her to come over the following night - I knew that that
particular evening I would be useless as a comforter. I was too
distracted by Josh's problems, and by what Mulder and I had just
discovered. 
I ran her through her security measures - locks, alarm, the security
guard in her building, her own gun. That managed to reassure her a
little and she hung up, sounding a little sheepish about getting so
emotional.  

"That was Jacqueline?" Mulder looked at me. I nodded, tired. 

"She's just scared again. I know she has good cause, but ..." I shook
my head helplessly. I just couldn't find the energy for her.  

Mulder nodded knowingly, then touched my elbow, drawing me over to the
dinner table. We'd kept to our assigned case all day at work, but as
soon as we'd gotten home for the night we had done a background search
on Marcus Matthew O'Brien; he had indeed been born February third,
nineteen fifty-one, trained as a teacher, and had a successful and
acclaimed career - until he died, fifteen years ago. Whoever was
scaring Josh was masquerading as a dead man. That wasn't the act of an
innocent, harmless individual. 

"Should we tell the kids?" 

I gazed at him, then nodded. They deserved to be kept in the picture. 
  

Kathy had picked Josh and Astrid up from school and taken the kids out
to the mall. The sound of Erin sobbing coming all the way down the hall
heralded their return. Mulder was heading toward the door when it burst
open and the kids ran in, lugging their school bags, Josh with rolled
up artworks. Kathy was last in, Erin on her hip. Erin was red faced and
screaming, and when she saw Mulder she burst into incoherent pleading
and accusations. Kathy gladly passed her over. "She wasn't allowed to
ride in the fire engine," Kathy explained offhandedly, moving to
collect her things.  

"Josh and I did, though," Astrid announced, digging through her school
bag like a mutt searching for a bone. "They said Erin was too small." 

"There was a fire engine on display in the mall," Josh told us quietly,
filling in the blank. "A display about fire safety and real firemen." 

Showing Kathy out, I glanced across at Mulder and Erin. She was still
crying, protesting. It wasn't often that she didn't get her own way. I
hoped she hadn't bitten anybody. It had been at least a week since the
last biting incident, a couple of days since she'd pinched. Steady
progress. 

"Today isn't some national safety day or something, is it?" Astrid
wondered suspiciously. "Cos we had a talk at school about that, too."
She glanced at us shrewdly. "Or did that have something to do with Mr
O'Brien? Did you say something to Mrs Preston about him this morning?" 

"What did they say in the assembly?" Mulder asked, sidestepping the
question.  

"Just about how if anybody makes us feel weird or uncomfortable, like
if we think they're following us, that we should tell our parents or
teacher or somebody like Mrs Preston. You and Mommy told them to do
that, right? Because of Josh?"  
She waited expectantly. I glanced across at Josh, in the kitchen, the
fridge door hanging open as he poured himself juice. He wasn't looking
at us but I knew he was following. Even Erin, her face tearstreaked and
lips pouting, was watching us, bright-eyed.  

"We suggested," Mulder said quietly, "to Mrs Preston that there may
have been a link between Josh's substitute and a number of behavioural
changes in students in his class." He looked keenly across at Josh and
I could see the concentration on his face, the focus. He was sending
Josh thoughts. I wished he wouldn't do that. Josh suffered from what we
couldn't prevent - it was sheer cruelty adding intentionally to it.  

I wasn't sure what the thought was. It looked like a question. Maybe
simply 'Are you okay?' Josh half-shrugged, half-nodded, and gently
closed the fridge.  

I sat back down at the dinner table and indicated for the kids to join
me. We still had the computerised record open and I scrolled back up to
the top of the page with the headshot of the real Marcus O'Brien. 

"That is Mr O'Brien," Josh said, matter-of-factly. It was a statement,
not a question. Mulder and I both looked at him. 

"The man pictured here died fifteen years ago," I told Josh, but he
shook his head. 

"No, that's him. He looks exactly like that." 

"This is the police report into his death," Mulder pointed out, letting
Erin to the ground and watching Josh with that slow curiosity. He
glanced across at me. Was it the same man? How did he still look the
same? Had his death been faked? If so, why would he still be using his
own identity? It didn't make sense. 

Josh shook himself, doglike, and rubbed his eyes. I bit my lip. We were
only just beginning to realise one of the biggest disadvantages of
Josh's ability. Josh must be hearing not only my thoughts but Mulder's
mind as it leapt along. I couldn't imagine how impossible that would be
for him. But how could we stop ourselves from thinking? We couldn't.  

Josh had actually taken a step back from us. He was frowning, as if
trying to hear his own thoughts above ours. 
"He looks older, sometimes," he said finally, pointing to the picture.
"Older than that. But othertimes he looks like that, or even younger." 

"How did he die?" Astrid nudged past Josh to see the report on the
laptop, scrolling down the page. "Dehydration and exposure?" She
sounded skeptical, maybe even bored. 

I pushed her away, gently, and closed the laptop. Despite what she had
seen and heard over the years, we still tried to shield the kids from
the horrific. The near-skeletal remains of Marcus O'Brien had lain in
the New Mexico desert for months before being discovered. The elements
and wildlife had left him a pretty gruesome sight. Astrid, though she
thought she could stomach anything, would still be unsettled by that.  

"His body was found in the desert in New Mexico fifteen years ago. They
think his car broke down and he was stranded. He probably wandered off
in search of help and got lost. He was dead at least three months
before being discovered." 

Astrid pulled a face. "Yuck. So he was all decomposed and everything?
And I guess the insects and animals and everything got to him, huh? The
vultures and ... yuck. That's pretty disgusting. Is there a picture?"
She started forward again but I stopped her, shaking my head. She
grinned sheepishly, then shrugged. "But if there was so much
decomposition and predation, maybe they misidentified him." 

I thought back through what we'd read. There had been personal effects
with the body - wallet with license and credit cards, photos, a leather
keyring with the name 'Marcus' engraved in it. His car had been found
dumped a week or two earlier, in the parking lot of a supermarket in
Las Vegas. It had been clearly stolen, the gearbox wrecked, the radio
gone. They hadn't been able to catch those responsible, and had no
clues where the car had been stolen from, to the whereabouts of the
missing teacher. But, whether it be foul play or supernatural means,
there was little question that this was more than just the case of a
man lost in the desert, dying of exposure. And that led to the very
real possibility of, as Astrid had suggested, misidentification. The
evidence confirming the man's identity had all been circumstantial. But
whose body was it, then? Who had been responsible for the evidence? Was
it Marcus O'Brien, trying to fake his own death? Why? None of it made
sense. 

I noticed that again Josh seemed a little overwhelmed. Not only Mulder
and I but Astrid as well were all puzzling through the case. I reached
out, touching Astrid's arm. She looked at me. 
"Daddy and I will look into this, okay? You and Josh have work of your
own to get through." 

Astrid looked as if she were going to protest, then she just sighed
melodramatically and shrugged. "Fine." She left, picking her school bag
up off the floor and disappearing into her bedroom. Josh still stayed. 

Mulder crouched down beside Josh. Both of them looked serious, pensive
as they each chewed on their bottom lip. Inherited trait? "What do you
think this guy is?" 

Josh's eyes were wide. He shrugged, helpless, scared. "I don't know." 

Mulder nodded slowly, touching Josh's head. "That's always the worst,
huh? When you just don't know." He glanced up at me, then looked back
to Josh. "Are you okay to go to school tomorrow?" 

Josh shook his head with sudden, intense desperation, as if he were
about to cry. "I don't want to," he whispered, as if pleading for us to
take charge and keep him safe, to take the burden from him. "But I need
to. I don't know what will happen, if I'm not there to -" He broke off.
"I'm the only one there who watches him back." 

He was trembling. Mulder tugged him closer, hugging him. "Hey, it's
okay, kiddo. Mom and I are going to stop this guy. I promise you that."

Watching, I sighed, biting my own lip. We would stop Marcus O'Brien.
That was promised. The question was, how? 

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- JACQUELINE POV - 

I grasped the balcony railings, pulling myself upright, and I stood,
gazing down. The sixth floor; it was quite a distance. The wrought iron
rails holding me back were thin, more decorative than functional. I
readjusted my grip and swung myself up and over, perching on the top
rail, knees bent to balance myself as I stared down. It was a strange
sensation, some sort of exhilaration at the danger penetrating the
tired numbness I felt. I imagined that I could fly, that I could just
let go and freefall, floating slowly down, surrendering myself, losing
myself. 

I drew a deep breath and closed my eyes, tightening my grip. How could
somebody so smart make so many stupid decisions? How could I be such a
terrible judge of character, so blind to the truth as it stared me in
the face? My life had become a laughable tragedy. There was so little
that I had actually achieved. I had spent so much longer hating and
fearing than I had loving and being loved. This wasn't life. This was
some tragic parody of it.  

I leaned forward, relying on my grip on the rails to stop me from
falling. Yet to have unclenched my fingers didn't seem like such an
irrational move at all. I would have done it without thinking, without
awareness of where I was and what could become of the action. I could
have thrown myself off the balcony as if it were a dream. I would have
hit the ground before the wings of my dreams had even started to
spread.  

My pulse throbbed in my head, like some tribal drumming. I felt
detatched from it, from everything around me. A breeze touched my face,
bringing with it some wisp of reality, and I felt myself wake a little.
My head seemed to lurch. I was dizzy, I realised. My skin was
prickling. The world seemed to get a little darker, as if the sun had
disappeared behind a cloud. I felt a weak trembling in my limbs and
only then did the rail under my fingers seem real, my grip precarious.
I looked at the street below and my whole body lurched. I sucked in a
deep breath and swung myself back upright in a quick, reflexive move. I
fumbled my way back onto the balcony, standing on shaky feet, gripping
the rail for balance. Cold sweat. I turned, ran back into the
apartment, and vomited into the toilet bowl.  
Oh God. I sank back down on the tiles, still stunned, scared by my own
actions. I was going crazy. I was really, finally losing it.  

Noah was in his bedroom, crying. I sat on the cold floor, listening,
unable to lift a limb, horrified by where I found myself. I had never
felt so alone in my life. 
  
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- MULDER POV - 

"Daddy? Daddy..." 

I was pinned down. Working my eyes open, I discovered Scully spread
across me, her face pressed against my chest, resting in the crook of
my neck. I could barely move. I turned my head as far as I dared to see
Josh standing in the doorway, hopping from one foot to the other.
"Daddy," he whispered again, pleading. I felt a chill at his tone. He
was terrified. 

I eased Scully off me, rolling off the bed and getting to my feet,
sleep vanishing from my body. "What is it?" 

"He's outside." 

"Who's outside? O'Brien? O'Brien is outside?" 

Josh nodded, hugging himself tightly, shaking.  

I pulled on a pair of jeans thrown to the floor and grabbed my weapon
from its holster. Scully was still asleep and I shook her. "Psst!
Scully!" 

She stirred, sleepy. "What?" 

"O'Brien's outside. You and Josh stay in here. I'll send Astrid in with
Erin, then check it out." 

She nodded, looking a little disoriented but understanding the need for
quick action. "I got it." Still pulling herself upright, she licked her
lips nervously. Be careful. I nodded. I will. 

I nudged Josh. "Take care of Mom." He nodded quickly, expression
anxious. Scully had climbed out of bed and was pulling on her robe over
her light summer pajamas.  

"I'll get the girls." 

"No, you stay here with Josh." Josh was the one he wanted. "I'll send
the girls in. Stay here." 

She nodded, reluctant, and drew Josh against her, a hand against his
chest keeping him close. 

Astrid was quick to act. I woke her, telling her only to take Erin into
our room and to do it *now*. She understood the seriousness of the
situation; she didn't protest about the order or question the motive
behind it, but only jumped out of her bed, grabbing Erin up and running
from the room. Erin, rudely woken, let out a surprised cry of protest. 

I moved to the door, checking that it was still locked, then quickly
from one window to the next. The streets below were empty - no sign of
O'Brien. I paused for a second, straining to hear any out of place
noises in the apartment, but there was nothing, only Erin's cries that
were fast becoming a howling tantrum, and quiet soothing from Scully
and Astrid. I grabbed my keys from the table and let myself out of the
apartment, careful to relock the front door from the outside before
moving down the empty hallway. The elevator took too long coming and I
took the stairs instead, racing down, expecting any moment to run into
O'Brien but encountering nobody. Everybody else was asleep at four am. 

I circled the apartment building three times, checking every dark
corner, around the cars parked in the street outside. Nothing. Nobody
in sight. 

I took my time returning to the apartment, hesitant to give up the
search. I found the four of them sitting on our bed, huddled together.
Erin was asleep against Scully, who sat rigidly waiting. Josh and
Astrid were on either side of Scully, deceptively relaxed as they held
onto her. They were still but alert, like bloodhounds. They must have
heard me letting myself back into the apartment but their guards
weren't let down until I appeared in the bedroom doorway and announced
quietly, "He's gone." 

I hadn't seen him or any indication that he'd even been there, but Josh
didn't make mistakes. If he said O'Brien had been there, then O'Brien
had been there. 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- SCULLY POV - 

With Mulder's news that O'Brien had gone I wasn't sure if I was
relieved or more anxious than before. We were all silent as Mulder laid
his gun on the dresser, kicking off the sneakers he'd grabbed from
somewhere. We didn't feel that the danger had passed. It was an
unsettling feeling. 

Mulder stood against the window, gazing out. He seemed edgey. All of us
felt that way, but he was the only one who showed it. "Why do you think
he's following you?" he asked Josh abruptly. "Why do you think he
targets those kids? The -" 

"Red list kids?" Josh finished for him. He shook his head. "Maybe
because we're afraid. We're vulnerable. Maybe he senses that we're
weaker." 

But Josh wasn't weak. Josh had an awesome amount of courage.  

I sighed. "We still don't know who this really is; if it is Marcus
O'Brien or -" I broke off. It wasn't the right time for this. "Let's
get back to bed. He's not coming back tonight." 

Mulder picked Erin up, and tugged Astrid to her feet. He indicated for
Josh to follow them out but Josh stayed, still balled up against me. 

"You want to sleep in here tonight, Josh?" I asked quietly. 

He nodded. I slipped an arm around him, kissing his hair, my heart
filled with empathy for him, the desire to protect him with every last
inch of me. 
I shed my robe and slid back under the covers. Mulder returned as Josh
was climbing in beside me. He gave us a wry smile, as if trying to
lighten the mood, as if trying to reassure us that it would be fine.
Neither of us were very reassured. 

He switched off the bedside lamp as he climbed into bed. In the
darkness I could hear Josh's quick breathing beside me. "Hey, Josh?" I
whispered quietly, stroking his hair. "Can you do us a favour? Can you
some time write us a list of all the things that you're afraid of? Just
so that we know, so that maybe we can help with some of them?" 

Hesitation before his whispered answer. "Okay. I'll try." 

I sighed. There was little enthusiasm in his words. He knew that, as he
could only try to explain it all to us, we could only try to help. But
we would give him that, at least. It was better than nothing. 

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- MULDER POV - 

"No, officer, my son didn't actually *see* O'Brien, but he -" I pulled
a face, exasperated. Scully smiled sadly at me, her deep frown not
lifting. "Listen, just check him out, okay? Get him in on some pretext
and ask him where he was last night. Will you do that for me? Thank
you." 

I hung up, tossing the phone down on the couch, and rubbed my eyes.
Erin had woken early and I'd gotten up to keep her company, letting
Scully and the kids sleep for a few more hours. But the truth was, I
could have used the sleep myself. After Scully and Josh had fallen
asleep I'd gotten out of bed again and checked through the apartment,
going downstairs again to circle the apartment building, needing prove
to myself that O'Brien had gone. 

"Daddeeeee..." Erin brought me a half-eaten banana. "Finish." 

"That's yours, monkey. Daddy already had breakfast." 

"Nooooo!" Erin protested. "Don't want. Daddy finish." 

"You don't want the banana? Why not?" 

"Yellow." 

"You don't want it because it's yellow? But all bananas are yellow." 

She gave me a pleading pout and I shook my head. She hardly ate any
fruit. We weren't letting her stop eating bananas.  

I smiled at her. "I bet that Erin can't finish eating that banana all
by herself." It was deliberate provocation, and it worked as
brilliantly as ever.  

"Can too!" Erin shrieked, pushing the rest of the mushy banana into her
mouth, leaving half of it on her face. "See!" Bits of banana were
sprayed everywhere. "See!" 

"Wow, you must have broken a record, huh, monkey?" Scully handed me a
wet wipe and I cleaned Erin's face and fingers with it before she could
take off and get banana prints everywhere.   

"We go play now?" It was one of Erin's favourite questions. I smiled,
touching her soft curls, loving this child so much. I'd never known I
had such capacity to care.  

"Not now, monkey. Maybe later." 

"Noooooo. Now!" 

"Later." My tone was firm and she pouted, knowing she'd lost the
battle. I grabbed her by the armpits and lifted her up, spinning her
around a little, evoking shrieks and giggles. It was so simple, so easy
to make her happy. If only the same were true for Josh and Astrid. 
  

Astrid wandered out in pajamas just past nine, making herself some
breakfast and settling down in front of the TV to eat. We figured Josh
was still asleep in our bed, but when he finally appeared it was from
his own bedroom, not ours.  
The kids seem to realise that we weren't sending them to school, or
going to work ourselves. We were due for a Friday off from work,
according to deal we'd struck with Skinner, and now as much as ever the
kids needed us around.  
  

They were pretty quiet all morning. Even Erin seemed quieter, playing
with her trucks by herself, not doing her usual daily trick of parading
around the house a one-man-band, banging away on the instruments
Margaret had given her.  

Scully and I were going over the case, or, at least, had started off by
trying to. Scully seemed tired still, and neither of us were really in
the mood to voice our concerns. We sat together on the couch, she
leaning against me with her feet up on the end of the couch, my arm
around her waist, her hands clasping mine silently. Were we waiting for
something? I wondered as I looked around at the kids. Waiting for him
to return? Waiting to feel safe again?  

Scully freed herself and stood, moving into the kitchen to splash cold
water on her face. She stood, heaving a sigh, one hand supporting her
back, the other rubbing her eyes tiredly. She seemed to feel always a
few degrees warmer than the rest of us, these days. The weather was
only going to get warmer. I couldn't imagine she was looking forward to
that.  

She disappeared into our bedroom. I had roused myself and was just
opening the case file, telling myself I'd get some work done, when she
reappeared, gesturing for me to join her in the bedroom. The expression
on her face told me straight away that something was up. 

"Josh wrote us that list I asked him for," she announced quietly as I
entered the bedroom, closing the door gently after me. She held the
page in her hand, pacing a little. 

"What's on it?" 

She held it out to me, frowning. I discovered there wasn't just one
page, but three, of his neat but tightly spaced handwriting, and my
heart sank.  

"Global warming, electromagnetic radiation, AIDS, war, poverty, evil,
religious persecution..." I read from the start of the list. I skipped
further down and discovered less political issues, things closer to
Josh. "Loneliness, expectations, discrimination, not being trusted, not
being understood..." I skimmed through the list. Everything from spider
bites to alien invasions to - I stopped. At the very end of the list
were four simple points. "Divorce. Cancer. Death. Martyrdom." 

I looked up at Scully. There had been a very real threat of divorce but
that had passed. We'd resolved those issues. And it was no great
surprise that Josh was scared of cancer. Most of the population was,
and that was without having had both a mother and a sister battle the
disease, one almost lost to it. Death, too, wasn't much of a surprise.
But martyrdom? Josh was afraid of being martyred? That chilled me. If
it scared Josh, then he must believe there was in the least a
possibility of it, and he wasn't often wrong. 

I gazed into Scully's eyes. She seemed as shaken by it as I felt. "We
need to talk to him about this," she said quietly, and I nodded. 
  

It was silent and still. Josh sat on the edge of the bed, me on one
side, Scully on the other. He was apprehensive about the confrontation,
still so afraid to voice his deepest thoughts. To have even written
that list must have been a tough job for him. 

Scully passed the list back to Josh, the last page on top. She pointed
to the last word. "Want to tell us more about that?" 

Josh shook his head quickly.  

"We're scared, Josh. We need to know what you know." 

"I don't know anything," he said quietly.  

"But you're afraid. Why are you afraid of becoming a martyr? Because
you're different?" 

"Because..." He played with the blanket, his head hung and his voice
muffled. "Maybe God sent me to die for the world, like Jesus." 

Did Josh think he was the second coming? Or simply that he was a
prophet of some sort? A prophet sent to do what? 

"Why would God do that?" Scully asked gently. "He doesn't want you to
die, Josh." 

"Jesus didn't want to die. But he knew he had to. He knew that that as
why he was there." 

"And you think that this is why you're here? To die for the world, like
Jesus? How do you know that, Josh?" 

He shrugged, helpless. "I don't know. I just know that he's got a plan
for me, and it's something important. I'm scared of what it is, that
it'll be too hard, that I won't have the courage for it." 

"Josh-" I began, but he shook his head, so small, so sad. 

"You can't save me from this." 

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- ASTRID POV - 

The phone was ringing. I was watching TV and figured Mommy or Daddy
would get it, but it kept on ringing, so I grabbed it and answered it.
It was the police officer Daddy had talked to before. He wanted to talk
to Daddy. 

I took the phone into the bedroom and found Josh in there with Mom and
Daddy, crying as Mom hugged him. I held out the phone to Dad. "It's
Officer Willis." 

Daddy nodded, still frowning, and took the phone from me, leaving the
room. I stood there, feeling awkward as I watched Mommy hug Josh. I
felt really left out. Usually I knew what was going on, but now I
didn't know at all. Was Josh crying about O'Brien again or was this
something else? 

Mommy gave me a small smile, but kept on rocking Joshie, whispering to
him that it was all going to be okay, that he was safe with us. I
backed up and left the room, feeling unwanted. At least when Erin got
all the attention, Josh and I were left out together. Now it was just
me. 
  

Daddy was pacing in the kitchen. He finished the call as I came out and
he hung up, but kept pacing.  

"What's going on?" 

He stopped, bracing himself against the kitchen counter before
answering me. "The apartment O'Brien listed as his address is empty.
He's gone. They put an APB out on him." 

"So he's not coming back to school?" To be honest, I felt like I didn't
really understand what all the fuss was about. I'd never seen anything
strange about him. Still, if he was some imposter pretending to be a
dead guy, we probably should be thinking of him as dangerous... 

"The police called the school. The principal will let them know if he
tries to turn up to work today or next week." 

"And what, he's just gone and that's it? You're not going to try and
look for him?" I frowned at him,  not believing that he would just let
Mr O'Brien go. This was personal. Daddy got passionate about things
when they were personal.  

"It's not our jurisdiction. The police are handling it." 

"And since when do you care about stupid stuff like that?" 

Daddy smiled. "I'm going to go dig through some files at work. You want
to come help?" 

I grinned, glad that he wanted my help, that I wasn't being left out
anymore. "Yup. Let's go." 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- JACQUELINE POV - 

Twilight again. I sat, watching the last of the fading light in the
sky, the near-full moon as it hung among the wispy clouds. It was
getting darker, the warmth of the day slipping away. I sat, calm,
still, feeling hollow but oddly peaceful. I'd been crazy last night.
I'd almost fallen. From this distance I would have been killed
outright.  

Dana had rung. They had a situation with Josh and she thought it might
be better if I didn't come over. She sounded bad about it, but it was
almost a relief to me. I felt like being by myself. My mind was too
hectic with questions to be able to stand conversation. I'd told her
I'd be okay for the weekend, to take care of her own lot. I would stand
on my own two feet. 
  

I drew a deep breath, then sighed. It was getting darker. Some of the
stars were beginning to show. I wish... I wish.  

Dana's God, Josh and Astrid's God - get me through this, I pleaded
silently. I sighed again and got to my feet, stepping back into the
apartment. I caught my breath sharply. Ebony was in my room again,
hiding and waiting  in the darkness. Why did she do that?  What did she
want? 

"You're not allowed in my bedroom," I said shortly, pushing past her. I
moved to the door, gesturing for her to leave, but she just stood
there. She needed a bath badly, I realised as I looked at her. She'd
been wearing the same clothes for several days straight. She never left
the apartment, so it didn't really seem to matter. She was like a dog,
constantly sleeping, incapable of keeping track of days. 

"What? What do you want?" 

Her gaze was unnerving and I felt my frustration growing. "Go have a
shower and put on pajamas. You're going to sleep in your bed tonight,
not in front of the TV. Eight-thirty bedtime. Understand me?" 

For the first time in weeks I thought I saw a flicker of something in
her otherwise dead eyes. What was she thinking? Was she thinking at
all, or had she just shut down? 

I drew a deep breath. You'll make it through this all... 
"I'm cooking dinner for all of us. You're going to help me read Noah a
bedtime story." 

If I was going to clean up my life I'd have to start with Ebony. It
wasn't going to be an easy task, I knew, and I wondered where I would
find the strength to see it through.  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- SCULLY POV - 

Astrid had a monologue due in her drama class on Monday and she was
adamant about being there. I'd lost count how many times she'd gone
through the five minute spiel over the weekend - it was as if repeating
those same words over and over was comforting in some way, a
distraction from the overhanging threat of O'Brien and the apprehension
that came with it.  
Her chosen character for the monologue was Lydia, from Jane Austen's
Pride and Prejudice. Astrid's portrayal, while with the childish airs
that defined the character as a foolish, empty-headed teen, seemed
overwhelmingly *sad*. Her accent, the gestures, the giggling and
curtesying - I barely recognised her. Yet despite the apparent
flippancy of the character, it was a tragic piece, and Astrid acted it
passionately, pacing in our bedroom before the full length mirrors,
over and over again, changing the emphasis of a phrase, the timing of a
gesture, an expression. Over the weekend I had spent hours, resting on
my bed, watching her, just amazed by her drive for perfection, her
skill as an actress. I was too distracted by Josh to want to work, and
none of us could just go out and play in the park. The sombre mood of
Friday still held. So I lay there, sleepy but content, and watched her.

  

There were a pair of plainclothes guards at the school on Monday. We
gave the kids a choice whether they went or not. Astrid was determined
to go, Josh made the same decision, though we saw him hesitate.  
Astrid rang my cellular at midday. Marcus O'Brien had been a no show.
Her monologue had gone okay, she thought. Her friends had told her it
was successful, but friends always would, she reported. Still, she
sounded confident, relieved that it was over. 

Early afternoon we headed out. We'd managed to track down Marcus
O'Brien's once fiance, Winnie Edgecombe, nee Jones. A scowling teenager
let us in. "My son, Paul," Winnie introduced him as he stalked back
down the hall. She shrugged apologetically. "He's studying for exams.
Or at least trying to." 

She must have been close to fifty. Marcus O'Brien would have been
fifty-two this year. Would have been, or was? 

"Marc and I weren't actually engaged," she admitted. "We'd only known
each other for a couple of months, to be honest. But things had
happened quickly. We were both at the age where we were ready to settle
down, start a family." 

She offered us coffee. Eyeing my stomach, she said she thought she had
decaf somewhere, but I opted for just a glass of water. I couldn't
stand hot drinks anymore. Already, I was sweating as though I were in
the middle of summer. 

I led her through her account of Marcus O'Brien's disappearance, the
investigation that had taken place, the discovery of the body. 
"They never let me see the body," she said, sounding a little sad. "I
always wished that they had, because then maybe it would have felt real
to me. It was just so sudden, so surreal... I never honestly felt that
he was dead. I guess everybody feels that way. Unless they can see for
themselves, they're going to doubt it. Doubting Thomas." She smiled
sheepishly. 

"You weren't asked to identify the body?" 

She shook her head. "His father and one of his brothers were asked to
do that, though it was difficult, the body was so ... well, you know.
They said that the dental records matched, and they found his wallet
with the body... It was sad, but nobody thought it was murder or
anything like that." 

"You never had any reason to believe the body had been misidentified?" 

"You mean, on purpose?" Her eyes widened and she shook her head. "You
think he's alive?" 

"Do you think that's a possibility?" 

She seemed to stiffen, then shook her head quickly. "No." 

"Were you in any way contacted by Marcus after the body was found?" 

She gripped the coffee mug tightly, avoiding Mulder's gaze. "No." 

"You never felt his presence?" 

Winnie Edgecombe looked up sharply. "Are you talking about a man or a
ghost?" 

"A ghost?" I echoed. 

"I don't believe in ghosts," Winnie said quickly. "It just sounded as
if he was implying-" 

Mulder leaned closer across the table. "Marcus was a teacher. Did his
students have any reason to be afraid of him?" 

"No." Quick answer. "He was always good with kids." 

Mulder reached into his jacket and pulled the recent photo of Marcus
O'Brien, laying it across the table and sliding it toward Winnie with
two fingers. She drew a deep breath, staring at it. 

"Would any of his students now have any reason to be afraid of him?" 

The room fell silent. Winnie Edgecombe looked up at Mulder, very, very
slowly. "So he is still alive." It was delivered as a cautious
statement. She watched Mulder closely, quietly curious, apprehensive. 

I indicated the photo. "That man has been employed as a substitute
teacher, teaching eight and nine year olds at a school for gifted
students." 

"But this isn't him now," Winnie clarified, frowning. "I mean, this is
what he looked like back then. He's got to be older now, like me." 

"That photo was taken when his drivers license was renewed, six months
ago." 

She shook her head, wide-eyed. "I don't understand. There has to be
some kind of mistake -" 

"Winnie," I said gently, "did you ever feel threatened by Marcus
O'Brien?" 

"No. He wasn't like that. He was a good man. He wasn't a criminal -" 

"You were never frightened by him?" 

"I just said-" 

"Little kids are being frightened by him. He was following his
students. He was outside one boy's home in the middle of the night,
just waiting, watching. The police are after him. This man is
dangerous." 

Winnie's breath hitched. "He's hurt somebody?" 

"Not physically, not yet. But kids are afraid. Kids are suffering. If
you know anything about -" Mulder broke off as Winnie rose abruptly
from the table, shaking her head. 

She moved over to the kitchen sink, tipping out the rest of her coffee
and rinsing the mug. We watched her, and we waited. 

She turned back to face us, but her eyes were on the floor as she wrung
a dishtowel between her fingers. "After he died I used to dream about
him. I'd put myself to sleep by thinking about him, imagining the day
as it would have been if he was still there. Just simple things like
calling him on the phone before bed, what I would have said... It was
just a game. Stupid, but I needed something to hold onto. I told myself
it was perfectly healthy, but then as I kept on going the days I
imagined with him felt more real than the ones I was actually living.
I'd imagine just the simplest things, like going grocery shopping with
him. What he'd want to buy, what brand, what he'd say about things and
people that I'd seen. I'd ask his opinion on things and I could always
hear what he'd say about it. It was like I still had him there with me,
like it was him being dead that wasn't real. But then ...my father
died." 

"Your father?" 

"That was hard to deal with. My dreams started to get all weird,
because I was thinking about Dad, too. Instead of being me as an adult
I was a kid again. Marcus was still there, but it wasn't just all
normal and happy anymore. Things were just all distorted. Instead of
looking forward to dreaming I was scared. He scared me." She cleared
her throat. "I saw a psychologist for a while. We talked about why I
associated my father with myself being little and scared... My father
used to hit me," she explained briefly, sounding embarrassed. "His
death had reawakened a lot of those emotions and fears and messed me up
for a while." 

"And in your dreams Marcus scared you, because you saw him as an
abusive father figure." 

She shrugged, eyes still to the ground. "The more scared I got, the
bigger he always seemed. I always felt like he was ...feeding on my
fear. You know how things happen in dreams. They're like fairytales.
Marc always seemed to grow bigger and bigger til he was twice as big as
me. That just scared me even more." Winnie pulled a tissue from her
pocket, quickly drying her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'd managed to bury this
pretty successfully."  

"When was the last time you dreamt about Marcus O'Brien?" 

Winnie heaved a deep breath. "Not for years, now. My father died six
months after Marc did... After only a couple of weeks of having the bad
dreams, I started taking sleeping pills every night. I kept that up for
months, I was so scared to dream. Finally, I knew I had to stop. I had
so much trouble getting to sleep without a pill that first night, but
then I didn't dream, not about Marc or my dad. I haven't, since." 

"That's because he's in the real world, now," Mulder said quietly,
watching her. "And there's plenty more scared little kids out there for
him to feed on." 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- MULDER POV - 

"And I thought I was the only one abandoned to basement digs," Warren
Litchfield remarked, looking around our office. His enthusiasm for the
case far outshone our own. Our interview with Winnie Edgecombe
yesterday had given us finally an idea what Marcus O'Brien was, but now
the danger only seemed greater. How real was a man created in
somebody's dreams? How dangerous was he? Would he come after Josh,
again? Why had he singled Josh out? How had he known Josh was
different? It was an x-file - and it *was* an x-file - that hit too
close to home. To this spider case we were indifferent. At least, right
now. 

I kept an eye on Scully as Litchfield and I discussed ways of
attracting the spider so we could trap and catch it. Even though we
hadn't heard any reports of O'Brien sightings anywhere near the school
- or anywhere else, for that matter - we were all still tense. Scully
in particular was still worrying, though she was trying to hide it,
trying to pay attention. She wasn't managing to concentrate, though.
She was too tired, too worried. She shouldn't still be working. She
should be at home, taking it easy. Aaron Harrison had said as much in
our quick visit yesterday.  

I watched her out of the corner of my eye. She was pacing, fanning
herself. It did get hot in our office in the summer, though this was a
pretty mild day for the season. I could hear her breathing, too. She
sounded short of breath. Should I ask her if she was okay? I wondered.
She wouldn't want that, with Litchfield there. If anything was
seriously wrong she would do something.  

"Have a look at this." Litchfield had a book open. "See, if we -" 

I looked over the page, trying to focus on his words. When I looked up
again Scully was gone. Not unusual - we were both in and out of the
office when working on a case. Scully was always heading off to the
labs upstairs or to requisition something, not to mention the often
bathroom breaks. But I was worried. Neither of us had slept well last
night. I didn't want anything jeopardizing this new baby's wellbeing. 

I told myself that she'd just gone to the bathroom and to give her ten
minutes. After five, I excused myself and went out into the hallway. I
was only half-way to the elevator when the doors slid open and she
stepped out, one hand on her back, one on her belly.  

"Mulder, what are you doing?" 

"I was just checking -" 

"I had to go to the bathroom, that's all." She sounded a little
distracted, a little uptight. The quick smile flashed to reassure me
that she was fine didn't. She pushed past me, but then pulled up short
only two feet in front of me. I could see her whole body stiffen and
her hands went to her back. She winced, rubbing her back quickly,
unable to conceal the pain on her face as she glanced at me. 

"What is it?" I stood, stupidly rooted to the spot. The baby wasn't
full term yet. This couldn't be a contraction. Could it? 

She sucked in a sharp breath and almost fell forward. I grabbed for
her, one hand cupping her belly, the other against her back. She
gripped my arms, trying to get steady on her feet. "No, I'm okay." 

"What was that?" 

"Just backpain. It got sharp. It's been coming and going." 

"You're sure it's not contractions?" 

"I've been though labour, Mulder. I know what contractions feel like.
I've just got a sore back, okay? No big deal." 

"You should go home and lie down." 

"No." She was emphatic. 

"Yes." I was just as emphatic. "I can take care of things here. Go home
and put your feet up." 

"I can keep working, Mulder. I worked last time right up til a month
before Erin was born." 

"This is different. You know that."  

"Actually, things are pretty much the same, if you've noticed. We've
got Josh having a near-breakdown, Jacqueline not knowing where the hell
her life is heading -" 

"Calm down." I took her hands gently but she pulled away. The hormones
were in overdrive. 

"No, Mulder! Things are a mess and it's time we just said so. We're
still afraid, always, for one reason or another. We're still struggling
against these forces of good and evil and sometimes I just need a damn
break, okay? I just need..." She trailed off, trying to fight the tears
even as they overcame her. "I just need to hold this baby, to know that
she's all right. I just need to feel strong and in control again." 

I took her hands again, and this time she didn't pull away. I kissed
her fingers gently, then brushed the hair back from her downturned
face, knowing how much she hated feeling so helpless. 

"I'm sorry," she muttered, wiping the tears away. "I can't just lose it
like that." 

"If you need to, do. Don't bottle it up." 

She nodded, sniffing, then broke into sobs. I drew her against me,
smoothing her hair, shushing her, loving my ability to comfort. Being
needed, being able to comfort in a way nobody else could, not her
mother or Josh or Astrid or Erin... it made me feel whole. It made me
me. 

I lifted her chin, then kissed her forehead. "Go home. Let Kathy look
after Erin. You just rest. Put your feet up and watch Oprah or
something." For that, I got a small smile. She nodded quickly, drying
her eyes.  

"It really was just backpain. I'm sure that's all it was." 

"Call me if -" 

"If I go into premature labour I'm sure somebody will tell you
eventually." She gave me wan smile, indicating that it had been meant
as a joke. I nodded sheepishly. Could she blame me for being concerned?

She went to get her things from the office. Instead of following her
in, I stayed out in the hallway, closing my eyes for a moment and
breathing in old books and rusty file cabinets. How many conversations
had we shared, here? She'd walked down this hallway for the first time,
no idea what she was in for. Coming this way myself for the first time,
only a few years earlier, I had had maybe a slightly clearer picture,
but I'd never expected this. Not everything that I had now.  

She returned, swinging her keys, but it was nervous impatience rather
than any renewed energy.  

"You okay to drive?" 

She nodded quickly. "I'll be okay. I just need to get some sleep.
You'll be home by six?" 

"Five." 

A frown. "Mulder, you can't. We've got to keep up with the work. This
case is moving slowly enough -" She broke off. "I'll be okay," she said
again, giving me a little, hopeful shrug, that shrug that says please
just trust me because I think I can handle this. "The kids will look
after me. You just look after the case. Promise me." 

I smiled, knowing I was caught. I drew her closer to kiss her lightly
on the lips, then gave her a gentle push. "Go home. You're missing
Oprah." 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- SCULLY POV - 

I had meant to obediently put myself to bed, but by the time I reached
home I was hungry for lunch, and Erin wanted to play... I ended up only
settling down for my rest when Erin went down for her afternoon nap.
But even as I lay there, my mind was as hectic as ever, worries about
Josh, about Jacqui, about solving the case, about the baby. I almost
gave up on sleep, it seemed so impossible, but I kept turning,
repositioning myself, moving the pillows, then getting up just as I was
getting comfortable, needing to pee. I guess I must have finally
succeeded in falling asleep because the next thing I knew it was dark,
and I could hear the kids' voices and the TV, then Mulder and
Jacqueline, too. Noah was crying and Erin started crying, too. I was
wondering if I should get up and help out when the bedroom door
opened.  

"You're awake." Mulder smiled, closing the door gently after him.
"Feeling better?" 

I shrugged as I drew myself up, still feeling sleepy. Mulder sat on the
bed, tugging me onto his lap, his arms around me, his chin on my
shoulder, silent in the dark closeness of the bedroom, just gently
drawing on my belly. Thank you God, I thought with sudden, almost
desperate appreciation. I love this man so much. 

I sighed, overwhelmingly content. "Let's stay here for a while." 

He kissed my neck. "Jacqueline's here. She brought dinner. I think she
wants to talk to you." 

"Later." I wouldn't let her ruin this moment of peace. 

I lay my hand over his and he took it, squeezing it tightly. So warm,
so certain. I wanted this to last forever. I hadn't felt so comfortable
in my own skin for weeks, now.  

He was kissing my neck, grazing his lips against my skin. So exquisite,
so intimate, so gentle. And he was mine. This was mine. I turned in his
arms so that I could kiss him, feeling a thrill though me as if this
were our very first kiss. It was everything our first had been - slow,
cautious, so utterly intense. I love you. We're allowed this.  
In the darkness of our bedroom I soaked up the affection, at that
moment wanting nothing more than to have him, to love him, to be his
and he mine.  

"I love you," I whispered, my breath on his face. He smiled, caressing,
holding me. "I love you." 

Why had that taken us so long the first time? I almost laughed,
settling with my back against him once more, letting him rest his chin
on the top of my head, his arms around me again. 

"This baby will be out in the world soon enough," he whispered. "We can
wait. Things will be okay." 

"I know they will," I agreed, clasping his hands as they lay folded
across my belly. I sighed, so content, almost overwhelmed by the
perfection of the moment. "Thank you." 

"Always."  

"Can we stay here just a while longer?" 

"If you want." 

We sat there, together, in the dark. Just us. Right then, I couldn't
have asked for more. 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- JACQUELINE POV - 

"Duckie, that looks normal, right?" Dana's sonogram was thrust in my
face.  

I had already looked over it, but I scrutinised it carefully for
Astrid's benefit. "Perfectly normal, baby. Dana's carrying a healthy
little girl. Stop worrying about it." 

Astrid frowned uneasily as I put the sonogram back up in place on the
fridge door with a magnet. "Mommy's tired all the time. She wasn't so
tired, with Erin. Not at this stage." 

"It's just the weather. Heat leeches energy. Dana just needs to take it
easy." 

"She shouldn't still be at work... But I know she wants to be." 

I smiled, touching the top of her head to reassure her. "Dana's smart,
Astrid. She knows what's best for the baby and she'll do that." Out of
the corner of my eye I saw Dana enter the room. I gave Astrid a nudge.
"I'll talk to her, okay? Don't worry." 

Astrid sighed skeptically, and left. I glanced across at Dana. She met
my eyes and nodded in acknowledgement of my presence, but then bent
down to speak to Erin. Fox followed her out and she stopped, murmuring
something to him, her hand on his arm. He nodded, reaching to cup her
face, kiss her forehead, and then release her. I watched the silent
interaction curiously, that ever-present dull envy gnawing at me. Dana
headed into the kitchen, while Fox sat down beside Erin, talking to her
quietly. She threw herself onto his lap, putting her hands over his
eyes, giggling in delight. 

The leftover Chinese I'd brought for dinner still sat in cartons on the
kitchen counter and Dana searched through then, sniffing, tasting,
before filling a plate with a little of everything, taking the loaded
plate to the kitchen table and settling down. I stood, watching her,
not sure if there was an invitation for me to talk to her somewhere in
her actions. I was about to ask her when Noah, crawling into a wall,
started to cry. His tears always chilled me, filling me with something
akin to horror at the thought of comforting him.  

Dana had paused, a forkful of food. "Jacqui?" She indicated Noah. 

I nodded. "I know." I shook the paralysis off and moved toward the
wailing little boy, picking him up, muttering the little words of
comfort that came without thinking. The wails died down and he just
whimpered, then lay still against me. I almost put him down as soon as
he was still; that was my usual course of action. But I stopped myself,
instead sitting down at the kitchen table opposite Dana, holding him
against me, not understanding how I could care so little. 

"How long has he been crawling?" 

"Couple of weeks." 

"He's an early learner." 

"He inherited brains, if not much else." 

Dana frowned sympathetically, but I could tell that she didn't just
understand. How could she? She had Fox.  

"He's a bright kid," she said quietly. 

"You want him?" 

She looked up at me, uncertain of whether I was joking or not. I wasn't
sure myself. I shrugged, wishing I hadn't said that. 

"You honestly don't want him?" 

I took a deep breath. "I've been thinking about putting him up for
adoption. It must sound crazy, after I wanted a baby so badly, that I
could even think this. But I don't want him. There's people out there
who are desperate to have kids. I see them every day at work. I can't
help them all. Maybe..." I shrugged, feeling stupid as tears prickled
my eyes. "I feel like a monster, just thinking things like that. But
maybe we'd all be better off." 

Dana picked through her food quietly. "What would you do about Ebony?" 

"I've been looking into boarding schools." I felt tired, just saying it
aloud. I had wrestled with these crazy plans night and day and still
felt no closer to resolution. I didn't trust myself not to make just
more stupid mistakes. "I've found one, St Pauls... Not too far away.
They're willing to take her, mid-term." 

"You really think that's the best thing for her?" 

"I can't sort her out!" I protested. I couldn't be the bad guy here. I
needed help, too. "It's too much. I just need my life to myself so that
I can sort everything out. I can't do that with Ebony and Noah around.
Ebony, in particular... She needs more help than I can give. She needs
a more normal life than I can give her." 

"I know things are hard for you, Jacqueline," Dana said quietly, "but
these are huge decisions you're making. You need to be certain." 

I nodded, feeling almost guilty at her warning, like a stupid child
with bad judgement. I tried to shrug it off. "I haven't made any
decisions yet. I'm still just thinking about it. If I did do something,
it would be about Ebony, first. Maybe if I got her out of the way, I
could deal with Noah better. Maybe..." I shrugged again, wishing that
this whole thing would just go away. I wanted out. I wanted to feel
like me again.  
"I'll let you know if I make any real decisions," I told her, quietly.
I pushed my chair back from the table and stood awkwardly. Noah had
fallen asleep against me. I hadn't let him do that in a while. 

"I should go home," I said, feeling awkward, aware of my sudden
reluctance to put Noah down in the stroller, somehow more scared of it
than welcoming.  

He didn't stir as I tucked him in, my heart racing as if almost
expecting a rush of maternal affection. But there was only a feeling of
oddity, as if something were out of place. 

Ebony was watching as Josh and Astrid played chess. I took her arm.
"We're going home now, Ebony." She glanced up at me, then rose from the
floor, letting me lead her across the room almost like a dog on a
leash. I told her to stay put, and I collected the stroller, checking
that Noah was strapped in, that I had everything in the diaperbag. When
I straightened up, I found that Dana was watching me, one hand on her
rounded stomach. 

I gazed at her, remembering my promise to Astrid. "Are you going to
work tomorrow?" 

"Why?" 

"The kids are worried about you. So is Fox." 

"Aaron Harrison said I was fine to keep working for another week or
two." 

"Aaron Harrison doesn't know how stressful your job is." 

"I'm fine. I know my limitations. I'll stop when I have to. Right now,
I'm needed at work." 

I gazed at her and she gazed right back. She was determined. In the
silence I could hear Fox and Erin singing a counting song together,
then laughter. Dana broke the gaze, shaking her head. "Two weeks, then
I'll go on maternity leave." 

"If you get any more pains -" 

"I have some sore muscles, that was all. I wasn't sleeping properly." 

"But if you do -" 

"I've already had this discussion with Mulder, Jacqui. I'm worried
about this baby too, you know. I'm not going to let anything happen to
it. I wouldn't risk its life under any circumstances." 

"Everybody just thinks you'd be safer at home. You deal with dangerous
-" 

"Two weeks." 

Her gaze was steely, uncompromising. I knew we were beaten. I just
prayed that she was right. 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- ASTRID POV - 

A phone was ringing. Not the cordless, but a cellular, either Mommy's
or Daddy's. I lay in bed, listening as it rang, waiting for them to
answer it. The ringing finally cut, but whoever answered it was talking
too quietly for me to hear. I could usually hear through the wall if
they were talking in normal voices. 
Wondering who it was, I pushed back the covers, and jumped to the
ground. I peeked to check on Erin, who should have been asleep in the
lower bunk, but the bed was empty. I bet she'd gone to Mommy and
Daddy's bed. She never stayed in what was now her own bed. She wanted
her crib, or at least Mommy and Daddy's bed.  
I snuck along the hall. Their door was open enough for me to peer
around before squeezing in.  

Daddy was the one on the phone, pacing in his pajamas as he talked.
Mommy was awake, too, sitting up in bed, playing with Erin's curly hair
as Erin lay asleep beside her. She was watching Daddy, listening to
what he was saying. 
"Yeah, I'll be right there. Have a guard on the door til then." A pause
as he listened. "I know *that*. Just do it." 

He hung up, rubbing his face tiredly for a couple of seconds. "A female
horticulturalist has just been attacked in Loudoun County. Somebody heard her
screams and scared away whatever was attacking her. Called 911. She's
critical, but alive. Grotowski Memorial." He tossed the phone down and
reached for his jeans, left on the floor. "I'm going over there now." 

Mommy eased Erin off her and pushed back the covers. "I'm coming with
you." 

"No, Scully." Daddy pulled a shirt on, looking at her as he buttoned
it. "You're staying here." 

"I'm a doctor, and I know this case better than anybody on staff at
Grotowski Memorial possibly could." Mommy went to her wardrobe, looking
for something to wear. "I had plenty of sleep earlier. I'm fine. You
were going to drive rather than fly anyway, right? We'll let the kids
sleep and get Mom to pick them up tomorrow after school if we're not
back." 

"What about O'Brien?" 

Mom seemed to know that Daddy was just trying to stop her. Even Josh
seemed okay about O'Brien, now. As far as I could tell. He still seemed
to be waiting for something, but Josh was always waiting for something
bad to happen.  
"He hasn't been seen for days," Mommy said. "He's probably halfway
across the country by now. This woman needs our help, now." 

"Josh is still worried." 

"Josh is always worried. Mulder, don't guilt-trip me out of doing my
job. We have a responsibility to help the victim here." 

"We should at least wake the kids," Daddy said.  

"Fine." Mommy sounded a little snippy, like she was in a bad mood.
Hormones or something, I figured. She wasn't happy about everybody
telling her again and again to go on maternity leave. 

I quickly backed out of the room and ran back to my own, climbing into
bed and pulling the covers over me, my heart racing as I tried to stay
still and pretend I was asleep.  

"Astrid?" It was Daddy. I groaned a bit as if he'd woken me up and put
on a sleepy voice, rubbing my eyes. It was so easy though I felt
guilty, dishonest at pretending. 

"What?" 

"Mom and I have to go to Loudoun County for a case. It should only be for
tomorrow, but if it takes longer we'll call Grandma, okay?" 

I nodded, managing a yawn. "Okay. Look after Mommy." 

"I will, kiddo." He gave me a kiss goodbye. "Erin's in our bed. Kathy
will be here at eight-thirty, so you or Josh will have to give Erin
some breakfast." 

"We can handle it," I promised him. I shooed him away. "Go to work. We
can look after ourselves." 

He nodded, frowning in that earnest way that Josh did sometimes, too. I
wasn't sure if it was the case he was frowning about, leaving us to
look after ourselves for the rest of the night, or the fact that Mommy
was going with him. Maybe all three. 
He looked up at me, gave me a small smile, and blew me a kiss. "Be back
soon." 
  

I listened for the next five minutes as they whispered and tossed extra
things in their overnight bags - they kept a bag almost completely
packed each, all the time, because they never knew when they had to
leave in a hurry - and then Mommy poked her head around my bedroom door
and whispered my name. 

I lifted my head. "Yeah?" 

"We're going now, sweetie. It's a quarter to three. You get back to
sleep. We'll call again in the morning to check in, okay?" 

I nodded, reaching out for a hug, not wanting her to go but knowing
that she had to. It was always like that. I should have been used to
it, but feelings weren't ever logical. 
Half-falling out of bed, I hugged her tightly, then I let go and
wriggled back under the covers. She kissed my hand goodbye.  

"See you later, sweetie." 

"Bye, Mommy," I whispered. She smiled, and as she was going towards the
door Daddy stuck his head in. I gave him a little wave and he nodded,
then he blew me a kiss again. Then he put an arm around Mommy's
shoulders, and they left together, closing the door after them. 

It was dark again. I wriggled in my bed, trying to get comfortable. It
was quiet without Erin in there with me. She usually stayed in her bed
til I fell asleep. I'd gotten used to falling asleep to her breathing. 

I heard the front door click closed after them as they left, a key
turned in the lock. Quietly, I pushed back my covers and jumped to the
floor. I padded into Mommy and Daddy's room. It was always strange that
they were gone, that the bedcovers were still all pulled up around Erin
and the room still felt lived in but they weren't there. I shook
myself, trying to get rid of the feeling, and I climbed onto the bed,
careful not to wake Erin. I wriggled under the covers, and I lay curled
on my side, looking at Erin, still sleeping, snoring. She'd gone to
sleep looking at Daddy and she'd wake up looking at me. 

"Astrid?" 

I looked up as the door was pushed open. It was Josh, chewing on his
pajama sleeve. He always did that, on the sleeves of his school
clothes, too. He pulled the threads with his teeth when he got nervous.
Mommy didn't say anything, just looked sadly at Josh and sewed the
tears when she could.  

He didn't say anything, except my name. He just came forward, moving to
Mommy's side of the bed and climbing in like I had, on Erin's other
side.  

"'Night Joshie," I whispered. 

He gave me a small smile. He already missed Mommy and Daddy, too. He
wished they didn't have to go away. "Goodnight." 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- MULDER POV - 

Warren Litchfield met us at the hospital, hurying toward us with long
jaunty strides, grabbing my arm unceremoniously and pulling me aside
before I could even ask to see Viola Gray, the patient. 
"I talked to her already," he said. "She only got a glimpse, but it was
a spider all right, a big ugly one at least the size of your hand. She
tried to hit it off her and says she thinks she stunned it. It ran
through a vent that goes to an underground cellar. If we're lucky, it's
still down there somewhere. We've got to get to it before it gets to
somebody else." 

I saw Scully's eyebrows rise. An underground cellar. Just great.  

"We should really talk to Ms Gray ourselves -" she protested. 

"This could be our only chance to catch this thing!" Litchfield
gestured impatiently, possessed with a nervous sort of enthusiasm. He'd
obviously been more shaken by the living victim than he had been by the
dead one. The childish excitement was subdued, but he was most
definately ready for a chase. And so was I. This was something we could
handle, a physical opponent we could defeat. 

"He's right, Scully. We've got to catch it tonight. You stay here and
-" 

"No. I'm coming with you, Mulder." 

"I don't want you there." 

"I'm still on the job. I'm coming." Her obstinance was frustrating. Why
was she doing this? Was I being punished for something? What reason
would she have for constantly putting herself and our unborn child in
danger? Just to prove herself? Since when had she needed to prove
herself to me? 

I knew she would only get madder at me if I kept protesting,
particularly in Litchfield's presence, so I just shrugged. She
obviously wasn't going to listen to me. She would judge the danger as
we approached it.  

We took Litchfield's car, he and I revising the plan as we drove toward
the scene of the attack. She was silent in the back seat, arm resting
on the windowsill, hand across her eyes. It was inky black outside, the
stars at their most beautiful, but she barely looked.  

Viola Gray had been attacked in a greenhouse attached to her own home,
an old stone building in cottage style. The greenhouse, in contrast,
was glassed in, with sophisticated equipment surrounding the plants.
The place was deserted. Viola Gray's husband, so said Litchfield, had
heard her screams and called for an ambulance. There had been no
investigation of the scene - Ms Gray had apparently only regained
consciousness ten minutes before we'd arrived at the hospital. Her
injuries had initially been attributed to corrosive chemicals which had
been spilled during the struggle. 

Scully helped as Litchfield pulled half a dozen cans of bug spray from
the trunk of his car. I went through the hothouse, seeing what we had
already seen at every prior scene, then took a quick look around the
hothouse, finding the cellar doors around the back. The area was lit,
though dimly, by a string of old Christmas lights.  
"Back here," I called. I heard footsteps as Scully and Litchfield
trampled through the low hanging trees I had just navigated. 

The cellar doors were locked. "Not a problem!" Litchfield announced,
ducking back through the trees. I looked at Scully, but she wouldn't
return my gaze. I just want you to be safe, I wanted to tell her, but I
kept my mouth shut. She would just get annoyed.  
Litchfield returned with boldcutters and attacked the small padlock,
cutting it in two in a matter of seconds. He yanked the cellar doors
open toward him and stale air rushed out. Scully winced, peering into
the darkness. We both reached for our flashlights.  

"I've got one in the car. Hang on a sec." Again, Litchfield dashed
off.  

"He's eager," Scully remarked with a shrug. 

I only nodded in agreement, not confident that a reply wouldn't offend
in some way. I was bent down, playing my flashlight around inside the
cellar, when he returned. The three of us went down, Litchfield leading
the way, the powerful beam from his flashlight illuminating the disused
cellar. We cautiously broke apart, shining flashlights around,
examining the bare, dusty shelves and wine racks. 

I shook the can of bug spray that Litchfield had handed me. Each of us
had one, with several spares left just outside the cellar doors. Would
it be at all effective? It seemed crazy, confronting this deadly
monster armed with household bug spray. Sure, I had my weapon. But I
was the only one. And I didn't want to let it off with Scully around. 

I peered under tables, into corners, at high shelves. Maybe we were
just - 

A rustle. The quick scratching of an animal moving in the dark.
"Listen," I hissed. 

Scully and Litchfield froze, silent. Waiting. 

"Where?" Scully whispered, slowly rotating, watching my light as I
searched for the source of the noise. Movement caught my eye and I
followed it. A hideous, furry black creature scurrying up a wall. It
froze in the light. Scully let out a sharp cry. Litchfield whistled, as
if impressed. As big as your hand was an understatement. Even without
legs extended it was bigger than a frisbee, the body alone almost the
size of a football. 

I lifted the can of bug spray slowly, as if a sharp movement would
scare the spider into action. Pressing down on the nozzle with as much
pressure as I could, a thick spray errupted from the can, a filmy layer
that seemed to slowly float in the air, coating the wall and the
spider. As if panicking, the creature sprang to life, scrambling up the
wall and disappearing in the rafters. 

"Well, you've seen it," I muttered to Litchfield. "You believe it yet?"

"Where did it go?" Scully held her spraycan next to her flashlight,
aiming at the ceiling with both. I slowly backed up, aiming the same
way.  

"I hit it," I said, certain of the fact. The question was, had I coated
it heavily enough? How big a dose would it take to kill a creature this
size? How would we know? How long would the spray take to paralyse the
spider? 

"That won't so much as give it a headache," Litchfield said, confident.
"This guy isn't going to start feeling it til he's properly doused." He
roamed, cautious but purposeful, around the room, watching the rafters,
looking for the creature. 

"Stop and listen," I advised. Again, the three of us stopped. This time
there was almost half a minute of silence before we heard the
scurrying.  

"It's right above me," Scully said, her voice low as she backed up a
little, so cautious, weapon trained. My heart chilled. There was
uncertainty in her voice. She was starting to doubt her own decision to
be here. 

She had backed up until she was standing right beside me. I nudged her
gently with my elbow. "Go back to the car," I told her, still staring
at the ceiling. "We'll handle it." 

She sighed quietly. She knew better than to risk herself and the baby.
"Don't do anything stupid, Mulder." 

I tried to cheer her up, even as I poised to spray. "Hey, it's just a
bug. We're grown men. We're not afraid of anything." 

"Be careful," she repeated. "I'll be right outside." 

"Put some distance between you and us. Just in case. Lock yourself in
the car." 

Again, no argument. I heard her footsteps on the cellar steps and then
she was gone. 

"She's gutsy," Litchfield remarked, not looking at me. "But she
shouldn't have been down here." 

I didn't answer him, instead asking a question of my own. "I think I
can see it. Should I try to spray it?" 

"Not yet." I could see his flashlight bobbing in the dark. It
illuminated a stack of empty preserves bottles along one wall.
Litchfield, putting his flashlight down on a shelf, picked up the top
bottle, turning it over in one hand. "I want to see if I can catch it."

I almost disagreed, just wanting to see this thing dead. But we could
learn much more about it alive than dead. Study its behaviour, how it
attacked its prey. I wondered why Litchfield's first plan had been to
kill it, and only now he suggested this alternative. But how could we
catch it? To get so close was just stupid. We were already threatening
it. Wouldn't it lash out to protect itself? 

"Can you see it?" 

I played my flashlight along the beam where Scully had seen it. It
could easily be hiding in the shadows. Suddenly, the barely discernable
scraping and a flash of movement to my right. "It's about three foot in
front of you, on the wall." 

Litchfield turned slowly. He still held the jar and the flashlight, his
can of bug spray sat on the shelf. Would he try to catch it or grab the
spray?  

"I'm going to trap it," he said quietly, laying his flashlight down on
the shelf, positioning it so that the spider was still illuminated, so
still against the bricks. He got two hands on the jar, ready to pounce
on it.  

I could hear my heart thudding. He looked like his was, too.
Excitement, fear, or both? 
"Get ready to spray it, in case it gets away." 

I readjusted my grip on the spray can, awkward with my flashlight, my
beam bouncing around as I tried to get a settled grip. "Ready." 

"Okay. One, two..." He lifted the jar, slowly, then brought it crashing
against the wall. We both jumped with the impact, but he didn't lose
his grip, just holding it there. "Did I get it?" 

I moved closer, shining my flashlight, wincing at the creature in the
jar, its hairy legs, each the width of a child's finger, struggling,
pressed against the glass. One or two of the legs had been caught
between the rim of the jar and the wall, and broken. "Yeah, you got
it." 

Litchfield let out a shaky chuckle, as if he'd been holding his breath.
"No shit. That was pretty lucky, huh?" 

"Yeah," I agreed, grinning sheepishly. I watched the spider, still
struggling to free itself, its legs extending and then contracting as
if trying to force its way out of there.  

"So what do I do now?" Litchfield, still sounded a little shaky, kept
his grip firmly on the glass. "How do we keep it in there? We need a
lid, or something." 

I glanced at the pile of jars. There was a fallen pile of rubber
stopper lids, old and cracked. I bent down to pick one up, but as my
hand closed around it the silence was broken. The distinct sound of
glass cracking, then shattering, flying out as if with an explosion,
tiny shards hitting the walls, clattering to the floor. Litchfield
swore loudly. Had he been cut or was he just stunned? He lost his
balance and knocked the shelves, his flashlight and can of spray
falling to the ground, rolling in different directions. He lunged for
the bug spray and I waved my own can, trying to track where the spider
had fled to. Litchfield saw it before I did, swinging his flashlight at
it as it flew at him. But he missed. It handed on his chest, like a
disgusting disembodied hand, and scurried up to his neck, wrapping its
legs around him as if to strangle, sinking its fangs into his bare
neck. 
He was screaming, trying to hit at it still with the flashlight,
yelling for me to get it off him. I squeezed the nozzle of my spraycan,
the insecticide spurting out in a steady, powerful stream. The spider
seemed to lose momentum, its legs flailing as it lost its grip around
his neck. Loathe to touch its disgusting furry body, I dropped my bug
spray and grabbed the flashlight from Litchfield's hand, swinging at
the spider. It hung on only by its legs on one side, and I hit it hard,
managing to bat it off entirely. It flew half a dozen feet, landing on
the floor, stunned. Before it could move, I pushed over a wine rack,
pinning it's revolting body down. Its limbs twitched, stretched
desperately as if trying to free itself. The wine rack seemed to lift
ever so slightly, then rock a little, as she spider frantically worked
to get free. It was stunned, but by no means dead. 

The winerack shifted a little as she spider stretched its limbs, a sort
of wriggling action trying to unpin itself. Inch by inch, it was
succeeding.  

I glanced across at Litchfield. He had fallen back against the wall,
grabbing at his neck. We only had a matter of seconds before this thing
was free. 

"Kill it," he whispered, both pleading and resignation in his voice,
choked and wheezing. I nodded. I drew my gun, aimed, and fired one,
two, three times, the gunshots ringing in my ears in the stone room. 

Silence. I stood, watching the spider's last dying struggles, it's torn
flesh and fur unreal in the now flickering beam of my dropped
flashlight, not daring to leave sight of it until I could be sure the
threat was gone. It slowed, its legs beginning to withdrawl, though
some others were still trapped and lay broken. Finally, it stopped. It
was dead.  

I reholstered my weapon and pulled out my celphone, speeddialling
Scully. "Call for an EMT, then come help me get Litchfield out of
here." 

No need for acknowledgement. She was already dialling 911 as I finished
the call and pocketed my phone, one last glance at the spider before
moving over to Litchfield, helping him to his feet. How much venom had
the spider injected into him? It had had barely a second.  

"Mulder?" Scully rushed down the cellar steps, stopping at the last
one, wary. "You stopped it?" 

I pointed to the dead horror. Poisoned, crushed, shot. Not so easily
defeated. And we humans had brought this on ourselves.  

She gazed at it, looking almost sad, then she turned to Litchfield,
awkwardly kneeling beside where he now sat, his back to the wall,
seemingly barely-conscious as she checked him over.  

I kneeled beside her. "Is he going to be okay?" 

"Hopefully." She looked at me, as if to chastise me for sending her
off, but she didn't. Afraid of what could have happened to her if she'd
stayed, maybe.  

We both rose at the sound of the siren. Leaving Scully with Litchfield,
I ran up the stairs and around the greenhouse to greet and direct the
EMTs, filling them in on the attack. 

"Do you know what sort of spider it was?" one of them asked. 

"Tarantula. Big one." 

"How big?" 

I pointed to the mangled corpse on the floor, almost smiling at the
disbelief. The EMT did a doubletake. "Shit, that's a big one." 

I shrugged, glancing briefly across at Scully, unable to help a tired
grin, relieved that we were safe. "Just a bug." 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- ASTRID POV - 

"Ted? Ted... Ted! Wakey!" I groaned, trying to push Erin away, not even
opening my eyes. She always woke up early. Usually I didn't mind.
Today, though I wanted to sleep. 

"Ted!!" She was always whiney, persistent. "Wakey!" 

She climbed on top of me and I opened my eyes to look right into her
grinning face. "Good gawl." She clapped, but whether she was applauding
me or herself, I wasn't sure. 

I glared at her, even as I thought that we had to be nice to her
because Mom and Daddy weren't here. But it wasn't even sunrise, yet. I
pushed her off me, sitting up. It was only just past five. 

"Go back to sleep," I told her, but she was bouncing up and down on the
bed, too happy being awake.  

"Nope! Stay wakey. Whar's Mommy?" 

"Mommy and Daddy had to go for a drive. They'll be here later." 

"How many houwahs lader?" 

"I'm not sure." 

"Me count houwahs? One, two, free, fouh, five..." She held up fingers
as she counted. "Six, seben, eight, - How many?"  

"Go back to sleep," I told her.  

"Nope!" she announced again. "Stay wakey! Wakey bakey bakey wakey
bakey!" She must have thought that was hilarious, because she collapsed
into giggles, tugging at her hair, pressing her hands against her
cheeks, smooshing them. She knew that being all cute and cheeky gave
her a good chance of getting her own way, but I made myself be tough. 

"Sleep, now." I grabbed her, trying to get her to stop jumping and get
back under the covers. She got in the bed but still wriggled and
giggled as if I were tickling her. I held both her hands in one of
mine, which stopped her from moving so much, but she kept trying to
kick me, giggling, blowing raspberries. I put on my sternest face but
that only made her laugh harder. 

I gave up. "Fine." I let go and she jumped up again, almost getting
tangled in the sheets. She started to bounce around on the covers again
but I got up and picked her up, lugging her out into the living room.
Mommy and Daddy had left a lamp on so the house wasn't all dark. I put
Erin down and tipped some of her duplo out of the toybox for her. 
"If you don't want to sleep, you can play. Just don't wake me or -" I
broke off when I realised that I didn't know where Joshie was. He'd
been in Mommy and Daddy's bed when I went to sleep, but he hadn't been
just then. Maybe he'd just gotten sick of Erin's kicking and gone back
to his own bed. Or maybe he was awake and writing something. He wrote
in the middle of the night, sometimes.  

Leaving Erin where she was, I went into Josh's room. He wasn't on his
bed or at his desk, though. I couldn't see him at all. "Josh?" 

I left his room and went back out, wondering if he'd been sitting in an
armchair and I just hadn't seen him. But he wasn't in the kitchen or
the living room. I looked in our bathroom, then even in my room,
Erin's, then Mommy and Daddy's bathroom. Where was he?  
"Josh?" I called again. He wouldn't have left, would he? No, definately
not. We looked after each other when Mommy and Daddy weren't around.  

I went back into their room, wondering if he was asleep under the
covers, but he wasn't. "Joshie?" 

Somebody shushed me. I looked across to the window. The curtains were
closed, but they looked bumpy. I moved over there cautiously, pulling
them open a little. Josh was standing between the curtains and the
window, the curtains wrapped around his body as if he was trying to
hide.  

"What is it?" 

"Mr O'Brien. He's outside." 

"Again?" But the police had said he'd left town. Had he been hanging
around our apartment since we last saw him? "Why?" 

"He needs something from me." 

"What does he need?" 

Josh didn't answer me, just shook his head. He was trembling. He was
scared. I was scared now, too. It had been bad enough when O'Brien was
around last time and Mommy and Daddy had been here. What would we do
now without them? Could we call somebody? Who? Duckie? Grandma? No,
they wouldn't be able to help. Mr Skinner? The police? But I didn't
want to do that. Mommy and Daddy wouldn't. They would be able to handle
it by themselves. And so that's what I'd have to do. 

"Josh, go get Erin. You hide with her in Mommy's closet, okay?" But he
didn't seem to be listening to me. He was still looking out the window,
his breathing all fast and panicky, his whole body trembling. I looked
down. How could he see anything? What had him so entranced? I shivered.
"Josh?" He didn't even seem to hear me. "Josh! Joshie!!" 

Still staring out at nothing with wide-eyes, he clasped his hands
together against his chest. "He's inside the building." 

I grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the window, then I ran back
out into the living room. Erin had turned the TV on and was sitting,
enraptured by infomercials. I picked her up, almost turning the TV off
again but deciding that it was comforting having the noise. "Noooooo!"
Erin protested, but I shushed her, taking her back in to Mommy and
Daddy's room, closing the door after us.  

"You stay with Joshie," I told her, pushing her in his direction. "How
about you play a counting game with him?" 

Josh seemed out of it. He grabbed Erin's hand and held onto her, but
didn't seem to notice as she tugged at his clothes, wanting to play.  

I dragged a chair over to the closet, standing on tiptoes so that I
could peel the taped gun from the top shelf, pulling the tape off the
gun carefully, like it was a bandaid. The safety was on, but it was
loaded, which terrified me and thrilled me at the same time. I moved
the chair out of the way, then pointed to the dark closet. "You hide in
here with Erin."  

Erin didn't know what was going on. She started to whine, bored rather
than scared. Josh just stood there. I gave him a shove and he kinda
stumbled toward the closet, pulling Erin with him. I found the
emergency flashlight that Daddy always kept in one of his drawers and
gave it and Daddy's gun to Josh. He looked at me soberly, but let go of
Erin's hand to take them. Erin reached for the gun and he quickly
pressed the flashlight into her hands. She waved it around, shining it
in her own face with a giggle. He hushed her and she pouted, putting on
a serious expression to match his. 

I'm taking Mommy's spare gun.  

I didn't speak my thoughts aloud. He didn't need me to, and it would
only scare Erin. I just looked at him. 

I'm going to get the my key from my school bag in my room and lock the
apartment closed after me. Don't come out until I say it's me. If
somebody else comes in, if they're going to hurt you, you have to shoot
them. If I hear the gun then I'll get here as soon as I can. Keep Erin
quiet and maybe Mr O'Brien won't even know where you are. I won't let
him get to you, Joshie. I can look after you. 

I made myself think strong, but then I panicked. I couldn't promise him
that. I couldn't look after him. I almost started to cry but I stopped
myself, but even then I still felt weak and shaky, like I'd start to
cry at any second. I wished Mommy and Daddy were there, or even Duckie.
I wished Mr O'Brien wasn't outside, that it was just Joshie dreaming
and we could all just go back to bed. I just wanted feel safe.  

I took a big breath and pushed the closet doors closed. Then I went
over to Mommy's set of drawers, pulling all her sweaters out and
dropping them on the floor. I reached in and got the gun and then the
box of bullets from the other drawer. My hands were shaking so much I
kept missing as I tried to put bullets in the clip and they kept
falling to the ground. Instead of picking them up I grabbed another one
from the box. I could pick them up later. Mommy would understand. 

The clip was filled and the gun was loaded. I flicked the safety off
and took another big breath. I'll be back soon, Joshie, I promised
silently. 

I was right to have left the TV on. It made me feel better - only a
tiny bit, but that was more than nothing. The front door was still
chained but I went around the apartment anyway, trying to stop myself
from shaking. My heart was beating so fast I thought it would explode.
I could hear my pulse throbbing. How could Mommy and Daddy do this all
the time? Did they still get scared, or did they get used to it? How
could anybody get used to being so scared? It was an awful feeling. 

I checked in everybody's bedrooms, then I stopped before the front
door. Should I just stay there, ready to shoot Mr O'Brien if or when he
came? What if he tried to get in another way? What if he hurt somebody
else? Should I go out and chase him away? Would he be scared by the
gun? What if I shot him and it didn't kill him? Mommy and Daddy had
fought people before who couldn't be killed. What if Mr O'Brien was
like that, that even if I did put all my bullets into him he'd just
keep coming after Josh? 

I should have called Mommy and Daddy. It wasn't too late. Maybe I still
should. But what could they do? They were in Loudoun County. They'd just tell
me to call Mr Skinner or the police and I had already thought of that.
I just couldn't do that. I couldn't let people think I wasn't big
enough to handle this. I could do this just as well as they could, I
knew I could.  

I wish Mommy and Daddy were here. 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- SCULLY POV - 

I sat in the front passenger seat of Warren Litchfield's car, watching
as the ambulance took off, sirens wailing and lights flashing. Most of
the neighbourhood seemed awake by now, but I let Mulder and the pair of
police officers who had just arrived handle the small crowd.  

"You okay?" Mulder finally came to the car, tossing the spare cans of
bugspray and two flashlights on the back seat. He leaned on the open
doorframe to peer in at me. "You look a little pale." 

"Tired," I answered briefly. The truth was, I felt exhausted. Waiting
in the car as Mulder and Litchfield took on the oversized tarantula had
had me tensed, almost panicking. I knew I couldn't let myself panic,
but my body hadn't really listened. Feeling short of breath, at one
stage I'd found myself almost hyperventilating. That had only panicked
me further, despite how much my mind yelled for me to stop it, that I
knew better than that. 

I leaned back in the seat, still fighting the panic. Mulder leaned in,
pressing his index finger against my neck. "Your heart is racing. I
thought I was the one in there." 

I smiled wanly, feeling bone-tired, a little nauseous. I really hadn't
gotten enough sleep. Was that all? 
"I was just worried. You were down there a while. I thought it would be
a piece of cake for you two fearless grown men." 

He smiled at that, but he was still concerned. Extra conscious of my
breathing with him right there, I was starting to hyperventilate
slightly. I struggled to control it and managed to calm myself a
little. Mulder was frowning. 

"Short of breath? Dizziness?" 

"A little," I acknowledged. I pulled the seatbelt around me, not
wanting to make a big deal of it though my chest was heavy with
anxiety. 

"We'll get you checked out at the hospital," he said quietly. The
decision was made, but I didn't protest it. Instead, I nodded. 

"Yeah," I answered, still breathless. "I think that might be a good
idea." 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- ASTRID POV - 

My keys were at the bottom of my school bag. I could hear them when I
shook it, but when I dug down to try and find them, there were things
in my way. Still holding the gun - I knew that if I put it down for
just a second something would go wrong - I one-handedly tipped my bag
upside down, shaking it so that everything, all my books and math
equipment and art stuff and bits of my drama costume, fell out in a
mess on my bedroom floor. Finally, the keys hit the top of the pile. I
grabbed them, then felt stupid because I had to carry them. I already
felt weird enough, in my pajamas with my hair all messy from being
asleep, holding a big, heavy gun, and my keyring with the smileyface
keyring Mommy and Daddy had given me when they first gave me and Josh a
set of keys each. Josh's had already had one, a little wire double
helix he'd made at school in junior metalwork.  

I'm going out, I promised myself. I'll look around the building, floor
by floor, until I find him. I'm not coming back til I'm sure Josh is
safe. But as I went toward the front door I saw the phone sitting on
the kitchen counter. I couldn't help myself. I had to call somebody.
This was crazy, trying to do this by myself. 

I ran to the phone and picked it up, but then stopped. No, I couldn't.
I had to prove that I could be responsible. Wasn't this what I'd
wanted, an opportunity to prove I could handle a weapon and the
responsibility that came with it? I couldn't chicken out. I had to
protect Josh and Erin. That was my job. I was the fighter, the brave
one. Mr O'Brien was just a man, or even if he wasn't, just seeing the
gun would scare him off, right? 

I put the phone down, then I jumped when I felt something touch my
legs. For a second my heart felt like it had stopped completely, then
it started hammering in my chest. 

"Meeowwww." I looked down. Mr Tom was winding around my legs. He must
have jumped from the top of one of the kitchen cupboards. He wanted
food. 

There's always a cat, I remembered Mommy telling us once, about one of
their cases. I wished that there wasn't. I was scared enough as it
was.  

I waited a few seconds for my heart to slow down and to feel like I
could breathe again. Silently, I reached down and patted Mr Tom. He
meowed again but I didn't get food for him. I should hurry up, I
thought. I couldn't just stay in here, hesitating. Mr O'Brien must be
getting closer. What if he was going to break in? What if I had to
shoot him? I didn't want to do that, even if he wasn't a real man, if
he was a ghost or some sort of resurrected monster.   

I moved quietly, quieter than I ever had in my life, but I was still
scared that he'd hear me, that he'd hear my heart because it was
pounding so loudly. I left the apartment, carefully closing the door
after me, locking it, praying that my keys wouldn't jangle.  

The hallway was empty. Never before had it really seemed so empty, or
so long. I walked along it, hearing each step even though my feet were
bare and the floor was carpeted.  

There was nobody on our floor. Praying that he wasn't right on the
other side, or somewhere waiting to grab me, I opened the door to the
fire stairs. Nobody there. I went down, a step at a time. The steps
were concrete, all gritty under my feet. I must look crazy, I thought,
holding the gun out in front of me. My insides were jumping so much I
thought I would just burst if somebody so much as jumped out at me
yelling 'boo!'.  

I opened the door to the ground floor. People might come in from the
street, I realised, and I held the gun by my side. If somebody other
than Mr O'Brien saw me I would just have to try and hide it. I couldn't
ask them for help. They wouldn't understand. They wouldn't be able to
protect Josh. Only I could. 

I tiptoed along the corridor, around the corner. The elevator chimed in
the silence and I jumped, almost screaming. For a split second I
thought I'd been shot or hit or caught but then I calmed down and
turned around to make sure I was alone. I looked down to the elevator
at the end of the hall. The doors were wide open. There was nobody
inside. Had there been? Or had somebody down here just pressed the
button for it? Mr O'Brien? But where was he? 

I turned around again, looking at everything as if I'd never seen it
before. I didn't remember the paint on the wall being that shade of
blue. It was weird. I felt like I was in the wrong building. It didn't
feel like home anymore. 

A door closing. I turned to see the door to the fire stairs gently
slipping shut, the latch clicking into place. My heart started beating
even faster, though it seemed impossible. I hated feeling scared. I
just wanted the fear to go away. I could just run away. I could find
somebody and let them take charge - But Mommy said that I had to
protect Josh and Erin. I had to.  

I ran to the door, pulling it open with my left hand, lifting the gun
up to aim with my right. But I didn't expect what I saw. 

He was an old man.  He was all bent over, as if he had arthritis, one
hand on his back, the other twisted around the handrail. He was so old,
so tired, wrinkled and sagging and stiff, his arms so thin they looked
like they would snap. I had seen Mr O'Brien around school enough to
know that this wasn't him. Mr O'Brien was only young, younger than Mom
and Dad. This man looked like he was at least ninety.  

Shaking in relief, I started to lower the gun, then I jerked it up
again in panic as he looked at me. It was him. He was the same person,
he was just old. So old. How could this happen? 

"Please..." I whispered, not knowing what to say. "Please stop. Stay
away from Joshie. Please..." 

He looked at me. He straightened up a little. He took a step closer to
me and I took a step back, til my back was against the wall.  

What was he going to do? Was he going to hurt me? Why had he come after
Josh? Was he from the Project? Was he somebody Graham had sent to hurt
us, to get at Duckie? 

"Stay away from me. Don't come any closer. Don't..." 

He took another step toward me, still staring at me, not saying
anything. His face scared me the most. His eyes looked dead, all
yellowed and bloodshot. He was so wrinkled, his skin looked so old and
rough, like an old piece of parchment that would fall to pieces if you
just touched it. But his face didn't seem to sag so much. He was
standing even straighter, only holding onto the rail. It was like
somebody was filling a shrivelled balloon with air again. He took
another step. Why was he being so slow, just one step at a time? Why
didn't he just run at me, hurt me, or run away to hurt Josh? 

I held the gun higher. My hands were shaking. Everything was shaking.
Please God, make him go away. Please, God... 
"Stop or I'll shoot you. I'll do it. I will. Don't make me ... please
don't make me. I don't want to shoot you... Please... Please..." 
My eyes were starting to fill with tears. Everything was getting all
blurry. My nose was starting to run. I wiped my sleeve across my eyes,
sniffing, just wanting so much to cry. "I'll shoot you! Stay away from
me! Stop coming closer!" Stop getting bigger and stronger and scarier! 

I have to shoot him. I have to shoot him. I have to save Josh... My
mind ran frantically through the same thoughts, over and over. I have
to shoot him. I have to. If he takes just one more step - 

I wriggled my finger on the trigger, ready to shoot. Mr O'Brien just
smiled, but it was a horrible smile. So calm, but creepy. He looked
more like Mr O'Brien from school. He was getting younger. How was he
getting younger? His shoulders were straighter, his skin looking
pinker. His eyes, though.. His eyes were still dead. Was he a zombie?
What else could he be? I hated him. I hated him because he was scaring
me. If he takes just one more step- 

But I didn't wait for him to take a step. I squeezed my eyes shut and
pulled the trigger, feeling myself pushed back against the wall, my
elbows jarring, a sudden shooting pain as I lost my balance and started
to slide down, my ears ringing from the sound of the shot. Had it hit
me? I felt as though I'd been hit, as if maybe I were dead, I felt so
out of my own body. I could see the ceiling, the bright fluorescent
light held in its metal bracket, but I was looking, not really seeing.
I bit down on my lip and tasted blood, but I pushed myself to stand up
straight again, and, blinking, I looked at him, prepared to see him
dead or dying, covered in blood.  
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- MULDER POV - 

They had put Warren Litchfield on some anti-venom treatments as soon as
the ambulance reached the hospital. We'd followed in Litchfield's car,
and by the time we'd arrived he was visibly improved, already vocally
celebrating having survived his encounter. Scully, on the hand, had
been only quieter and quieter in the car, listless, her only movement
the rhythmic caressing to soothe the baby. 
  

She reached for me, now, pawing at my hand with her fingertips. I took
her hand, holding it warmly between both of mine as the obstetrician
did a sonogram and studied the output of the attached fetal heart
monitor. He talked quietly to Scully during the sonogram, asking when
she'd last been to her OB-GYN, if she'd been taking any medication, how
long and often she'd been experiencing the shortness of breath,
dizziness, tiredness, back pain. She admitted that all the symptoms had
been coming and going, but only the last few hours had they become so
severe. Watching the baby's quick, agitated movements in the womb, I
reminded her of the sharp pain that had almost had her falling over in
the corridor outside out office and she reluctantly relayed the
incident to the doctor. He nodded, frowning, gazing at the image of the
baby - our baby - on the monitor for several long seconds before
switching it off. A nurse wiped the smeared gel from Scully's belly and
readjusted the hospital gown for her, before busying herself in tidying
up the equipment. The doctor, still frowning, watched Scully's
heartbeat, then the baby's, on the monitors. The cold fear I'd felt
earlier in the evening came creeping back.  

"Your baby's heartrate is up," the doctor announced, finally. "Yours is
too, but it's slowed down since you got here. The baby's is still high.
Your own doctor didn't say anything about it your last appointment?" 

Our last appointment had been Monday afternoon, after our interview
with Winnie Edgecombe. It was early Wednesday morning now - less than
two days. What had Aaron Harrison said? Everything was normal enough.
He hadn't seemed worried, though he had suggested to Scully several
times that she needed to relax. 

"It was a little high," Scully answered. Her fingers squeezed mine and
I squeezed back. "He told me to take it easy," she added.  

"You should have listened to him. I'm not overly concerned but I want
to keep you in overnight for observation to make sure the baby does
calm down. And no more working. You're on maternity leave as of now. Do
I need to send your supervisor a medical notice or will you listen to
me?" 

"No more working," Scully agreed, sounding apprehensive still.  

The doctor nodded and grabbed the chart, giving us a smile intended to
reassure. "I'll check in on you in an hour or so. Try to get some
rest." 

Scully thanked him in a small voice, watching as he left. In the
silence that followed, I just held her hand. I knew she was waiting for
me to censure her for her actions but I was more hurt than angry. I
knew this baby was as precious to her as it was to me, and though I
knew she would never intentionally harm it, I had trusted her own
judgement as mother and a doctor. I hadn't expected her to push the
limits like this. 

"I'm sorry, Mulder." She pulled away from me and gazed at her fingers
as she splayed them out on her belly. 

I couldn't help myself. "We all told you -" 

"I know that. I should have listened. I'm sorry. You know that I never
meant for -" She broke off, shaking her head and gazing at the ceiling,
lips pressed together, forehead creased in a frown. I could see the
tears in her eyes, the weariness in her face as she struggled to
explain her actions. "I just needed to feel that I was in control. I'm
scared. I can't just stay at home as if everything is fine." 

I took her fidgeting hands, holding them firmly, trying to stabilise
her. "Everything *will* be fine, Scully. This baby will be fine. Josh
will always have problems but we'll deal with them. You just need to
take it easy and make sure you and the baby are healthy." Feeling tired
myself, I bent over her, pressing my cheek against her belly, kissing
it through the hospital gown. I rested there, and my voice was muffled
as I spoke, "We're all alive, all healthy." 

I lifted my head again to see her brushing tears from her eyes, smiling
sheepishly. "Sorry," she apologised. "I'm getting all emotional..." 

"I think I can handle it." I returned the smile and held her close as
she reached for a hug. She let out a sigh as she held me tightly,
knowing that I was right, that we would be okay. 
  

She dozed. I stayed by her side, knowing that I could leave but not
wanting to. I had nowhere else to go. Nowhere anywhere near as
important as being with her, at least. 

She stirred. "Mmm... We should call the kids." 

"It's only six. We'll call them in an hour or so. Wake them up, if Erin
hasn't already." 

She nodded, kicking back the blankets, still half asleep. "It's hot in
here," she grumbled sleepily. Yawned, she slowly turned her face to me,
eyes clearing, becoming watchful, guilty. "I shouldn't have insisted on
coming along tonight. You were right, not to want me there." 

"It's not that I don't want you there. But you weren't up to it,
Scully. Still being at work is taking a lot out of you." 

"I hate being helpless." 

"You could never be helpless. You're just a little..." I searched for
the word. "Defensively-challenged, right now. But you're still strong.
You're still gutsy." 

"Gutsy?" She raised an eyebrow, playing with my hand. 

"Yeah." I grinned. "And this little one is going to be just like you."
I pulled away from her to press both palms against her belly, searching
for movement, but the baby finally seemed still, maybe sleeping. I
glanced across at the monitor, reassured by the steady fetal
heartbeat.  

She smiled at me. "She could be taking after you. Making trouble before
she's even out in the world." 

"Oh, I don't know, Scully." I countered. "Falling asleep at crucial
moments... That sounds a whole lot like you."  

For that, she swatted my shoulder, but it became a caress as she
yawned. Sleepy smile. "Maybe I should live up to my reputation, then." 

I nodded, squeezing her hand as it sat on my shoulder, gently returning
it to her belly. "I think that's a good idea," I answered, softer. I
rose. "I'll go outside, stop distracting you. Check in on Litchfield." 

Another sleepy smile. "You cheatin' on me, Mulder?" 

"Can't fool you, can I?" 

"Nope."  

I backed up, flicking the lightswitch by the door so that the room fell
dark. The sun would be rising, soon. But she'd sleep. She always could.

"Sleep tight," I whispered. No answer. I smiled to myself, and quietly
withdrew from the room. 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- ASTRID POV - 

He was still standing. He hadn't even moved. The bullet had hit the
wall behind him, at least twenty centimeters to his left. I'd missed.
I'd *missed*. How could I have missed? I was a good shot. Everyone had
said I was a good shot, when Graham had taught me and Josh in
Australia. How could I have missed him? Mommy wouldn't have. Daddy
wouldn't have. They wouldn't have let themselves feel like a little
helpless victim. 

"I'm not scared of you!" I yelled, and my own voice was so loud that I
almost jumped again.  

He gave me that horrible smile again, then he turned and started to go
back up the stairs. This time, though, he wasn't limping up. He was
jumping, two or three steps at a time, almost skipping, almost as if
this were just some sort of game. I knew this wasn't a game. I couldn't
let him get to Joshie and Erin. I pulled the trigger, not hesitating
this time but so quickly that I almost felt like I'd hit the wall
behind me again before I'd even made a conscious decision to fire. This
time I stayed on my feet, though. Didn't brace yourself properly, I
heard Daddy say in my head. He was right. I hadn't. But this time at
least I'd hit him. 

His mouth opened, and he grabbed at his chest as if he was having a
heart attack. His dead eyes started to roll in their sockets and he
just seemed to crumple. One second he was there, looking just like a
person. The next, he was dust, falling to the ground. I stared, my mind
not taking any of it in, just stunned by what I'd done and seen. I'd
killed him. I'd killed somebody. Something. 

Feeling all shaky, I let myself slide to the ground, my back against
the wall. I held onto Mommy's gun, trying to breathe, trying not to be
sick. Oh God please let that have been the right thing to do. Please
God I'm sorry I took a life. I only did it to save Joshie. Mommy said I
had to keep Joshie safe... 

"Astrid?" 

I  looked up. Joshie was standing at the top of the stairs, right where
Mr O'Brien had been. He had Erin by the hand. She'd bent down and was
touching the pile of dust.  

"Erin, no!" I cried. She couldn't touch that. But Josh had already
pulled her away. He lifted her up, holding her, though he wasn't really
that much bigger than her.  

"He was - I had to shoot him. And he just fell... He just ..." I didn't
know how to say it. I didn't need to. Josh had already read my mind as
easily as fastforwarding through a surveillance video. He knew every
detail as clearly as I did. 

I tried to stand up, but I still felt all shaky, sweaty all over, and I
fell back down again. I shivered and then discovered I couldn't stop.
"What do we do now?" I whispered, letting the gun fall so that I could
hug myself, trying to stop the shaking. 

He edged around the pile and came down the stairs toward me, lugging
Erin awkwardly. It was more that he wasn't tall enough than that he
wasn't strong enough. Erin was protesting and he put her down when he
got to me. 

He picked up the gun, firstly, and put the safety on. Then he took hold
of my arm, pulling me to my feet, waiting til the dizzyness stopped.
"We need to call Mom and Dad." 

Feeling like I was going to be sick or cry, I nodded. Time to call Mom
and Dad. 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- SCULLY POV - 

"Scully? Scully! Wake up." 

I groaned. Had I even fallen asleep? I felt exhausted, stale. "What?" I
grumbled. 

"Josh rang. It's O'Brien." 

My eyes snapped open with that. Though still sleepy, I pushed myself up
on the pillows, blinking, trying to clear my mind. "What?" 

"O'Brien was in the building but he's gone. Astrid did it. That's all
Josh said. He sounded shaken." 

Josh? Astrid? I tried to make sense of it all. "O'Brien was there?
Astrid did it? Astrid did *what*? Are they okay? Are they safe, now?" 

Mulder shrugged, grabbing his jacket from where he'd tossed it on the
chair earlier. "I told him to call Jacqueline or your mom to be with
them til I get there." 

I pushed back the covers, sitting up properly and tugging at the IV.
"I'm coming too." 

"No, you're staying." His hand was on my shoulder, trying to push me
down, but I shook my head. 

"They need both of us there. We shouldn't have even left them in the
first place." 

"I can handle it, Scully. You have to stay here for observation." 

"Mulder-" 

"You promised me that you'd do everything to make sure this baby was
safe. That means you staying here under supervision, on the monitors." 

"Dana?" A nurse came rushing in as the monitors beeped shrilly. "Why
did you -" 

"I have to go," I told her, reaching for my clothes. "I'll sign out AMA
if necessary." I held her gaze, refusing to back down, and she sighed,
switching off the monitors, watching disapprovingly as I pulled my
clothes on. Mulder was giving me the same look. 

"Listen, Mulder," I pleaded, "Let's just get back to the kids. I'll
stay in bed for the next week if I have to, but we've got to see them.
I'd be just as worried here, you know that. I need to be there myself
to know things are okay." 

He still didn't seem convinced, but he nodded. He picked up my jacket,
slipping it on for me, laying his hands on my shoulders from behind. "I
hope you're making the right decision." 

"I am," I answered, and I was, I knew for certain. Whatever we were
going to encounter when we got home, it couldn't be any more
distressing than lying here alone, not knowing what was going on, and
thinking the worst.  
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- ASTRID POV - 

Erin was whining. I made her a peanut butter sandwich, spread really
thick, and I cut it into triangles for her, how she liked it. She took
a quarter and wandered around the apartment, looking for Mommy and
Daddy, confused when she couldn't find them. She approached Josh,
offering him a bite, but he shook his head, just stood there against
the wall, silent, watching. I didn't know what to say to him. I kept
moving, kept following Erin and making her sit still and mopping up
after her, because I was afraid to stop. As long as I kept going I
didn't have to think about what had happened. I think Mommy was like
that, too. She needed to keep working because it was something to keep
her going, keep her mind off whatever trauma she had just suffered.  

I'm brave. I'm in charge. I'm looking after Josh and Astrid. I'm not
letting this break me. I can handle it. I'm brave... 

Erin fell asleep again, face down in a mush of peanut butter and bread
she'd been concocting on the dinner table. I cleaned her up and carried
her into our room, tucking her into her bed. The curtains were still
closed but the bedroom was lighter because the sun was up outside. I
left the curtains as they were and went back out to clean up the mess
Erin had made. The counter was covered in crumbs and I wiped that down,
too, rinsed out the sponge, straightened the tea-towel. Mr Tom came
into the kitchen from wherever he'd been asleep and started purring,
wanting food, like before. I found a plastic cat bowl and poured him
some dry food, then filled another one with some pet milk from the
fridge. He went for the milk, lapping it up greedily. I put the milk
and box of dry food away then looked around. What could I do? There had
to be something else I could do. *Something*... 

I went to go check on Erin, then walked through the apartment, making
sure all the windows were locked, everything was safe. The walking made
me feel better and I started pacing, from one window to another,
keeping watch. How much longer would Daddy be? It felt like forever
since I'd called him. He wasn't so far away. What was taking so long?
If I had to wait too much longer I'd go crazy. I couldn't hold on
forever. 

A car. "That's them," Josh said quietly. He was still standing there,
back to the wall, near the front door. I ran to the window, looking
down. It was their car. Daddy climbed out, but then he went around to
the other side, opening the door, helping Mommy out. She didn't push
him away, like she normally would. Instead, she let him put his arm
around her, helping her into the building. What was wrong? Joshie
hadn't said that Daddy had said anything was wrong. Was there a problem
with the baby? But Mommy would be in a hospital, if something was
really wrong. Maybe she was just tired. They must have been up all
night, working on their case... 

A key in the lock, the door slowly opened. I stopped pacing and watched
as Mommy came through, holding her tummy with both hands. Daddy came
through after her, closing the door, locking it again, putting his keys
down. They just stood there for a second, maybe not expecting us to
just be standing there ourselves. 

Daddy looked at me, then Joshie, then back to me. "What's up?" 

"Mr O'Brien was here again, tonight," I said, determined to tell them
the whole story clearly and concisely. "He was in the building. I told
Josh to hide with Erin in the closet in your room and I got Mommy's gun
from her dresser drawer." 

Mommy's hand went to her mouth. "Oh my God..." she whispered. 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- MULDER POV - 

"You loaded it?" I asked her, watching Scully intently out of the
corner of my eye.  

Astrid nodded. "I went out into the hall and locked the apartment
closed after me," she told us quietly, oddly unemotional, "so he
couldn't get in. Then I went downstairs. He was in the stairwell, but I
didn't think it was him at first, because he seemed all old and
wrinkled. I told him to stop, but he started moving closer to me. I
pointed my gun at him but he still wouldn't stop. He was getting
bigger, younger and stronger. He was scaring me-" Her voice hitched and
her breathing was becoming panicky but she struggled to control
herself. "I told him to stop lots of times but he wouldn't, so I fired
at him. But I missed. And I hadn't braced myself properly, so I fell
back against the wall. I got back up and he was just stronger than
ever. He was going up the stairs, to get Josh. I couldn't let him get
there. I didn't know what he was going to do to Josh. I had to protect
him -" The tears broke and I moved forward to hug her. She clung to me,
sobbing, her grip so tight on me I felt her fingernails clawing into
me. "I had to shoot him. I didn't want to but Mommy said I was there to
protect Josh and Erin and so I had to shoot him. That's what you would
have done, right? You would have shot him? Daddy?" 

"Absolutely." I didn't just say it to comfort - I meant it. With
somebody threatening my family I would have easily shot first, asked
questions later. "You did the right thing, Astrid. You did a good job."

Scully came closer, crouching awkwardly beside Astrid, a hand on her
back as she heaved sobs. "Where's the body?" 

What would we do? We had to report this. But would anybody believe that
a nine year old girl had shot a grown man in self defense? Even if that
grown man were only the physical manifestation of one woman's dreams,
drawn to the school in the way a shark was to blood, smelling fear,
looking to feed. 

"There isn't. He just - he went all - he..." 

"He turned into dust." Josh's quiet voice, from behind us. I could
almost feel the intensity of emotion radiating from him. Empathy for
Astrid, the trauma of his ordeal. He was almost catatonic.  

Scully drew Josh close to her, whispering soothing words to him though
he didn't cry, but just stood there, silent. This would be one hell of
a setback, I thought as I watched him and murmured comfort as Astrid
sobbed. Things had been difficult as it was and neither of them would
make it through this unscarred.  

My eyes met Scully's over the tops of the kids' heads. There was so
much sorrow in her face, so much suffering and yet a resignation to it,
that made me for just a second hate the x-files with my whole heart. I
hated this darkness that hovered above our family, that intruded in our
lives and gave us all so much fear. Everything that the x-files was in
some way led to pain. But what could we do? Even if we did walk off the
job tomorrow, it wouldn't change things. It wasn't just us. Astrid and
Josh were born into this same existence. Even Erin, her life, was an
x-file. The conception of this new baby... The paranormal and
unexplainable wasn't just a job anymore. It was our life. We couldn't
run from it, even if we tried. 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- SCULLY POV - 

Astrid got hysterical when Mulder tried to prise her off him. Josh, so
quiet and still against me, worried me far more.  

Mulder and I had been up most of the night, but the kids were in worse
shape than us, physically as well as emotionally. It took us the best
part of an hour to calm Astrid enough to get her into our bed. Both she
and Josh were shaking but still protested my suggestion of a light
sedative to help them sleep. Knowing that they would wear themselves
out soon enough anyway, I climbed between them and hugged them on
either side of me, exhausted myself, not able to do much more than hold
them. Mulder had slipped out of the apartment to check the stairwell. 

"The baby's okay, isn't she?" Astrid asked suddenly, looking up at me,
her eyes red and face swollen from tears.  

"She'll be fine. The doctor just said I need to take it easy." 

A sniffle. "We *all* told you that." 

"Yeah, you did." I smiled at her. "I should have listened." 

"So you're on maternity leave, now? You don't have to go to work
today?" 

"I wouldn't, anyway." 

"Good." Another sniffle, and she hugged me closer.  
  

She was asleep beside me when Mulder returned, Josh asleep on my other
side. I wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep. He'd been quiet.  

"It's my fault," I said quietly, voicing the guilt I'd been silently
mulling over as the kids had cried. "I told Astrid the other day that
it was her job to protect Josh and Erin. I shouldn't have said that." 

"You think she would have acted any differently if you hadn't?" 

"She only thought she had to handle it herself because of what I said.
She could have called Mom or Jacqueline..." 

"She wanted to be grown up. You know how stubborn she is about that." 

"I guess." I sighed, far from convinced. "What did you find in the
stairwell?" 

"Just like Josh said," Mulder reported, kicking off his shoes. "Small
pile of dust. I found two shell casings and the two bullets, one of
them in the wall." 

"Where did you find the second bullet?" 

"In the dust." He pulled his coat off, throwing it down, and ran his
hands through his hair. He stood, hands on hips, just looking at the
three of us. He shook his head. "Sometimes I hate this." 

"'This'?" 

"The job. The life. Where does it end, Scully?" 

"Maybe it doesn't." 

He shook his head again. "There's a better life than this." 

"No, there isn't," I told him quietly. I gazed at him. "You know that.
The kids aren't ever going to be normal. We can't pretend that they
will. We've just got to make the best of what we have." I sighed, then
shrugged. "I don't think we're doing such a bad job of it." 

"Yeah," he agreed, but his mind was elsewhere.  
  

I eased out from between Josh and Astrid and climbed off the bed,
needing to use the bathroom, but first I moved over to Mulder. He
looked so defeated as he stood there, head bowed helplessly, like a
little boy who just didn't know what to do anymore. Silently, I drew
him toward me, cradling the back of his head, feeling the shudder
through him as he heaved a sigh, slipping his arms around me. 

"Things will be better in the morning," I whispered to him. 

"It is morning," was his muffled answer.  

"We both need some sleep." 

"Yeah. You're right." He pulled away from me to kiss my forehead, then
he gave me a gentle push. "You get ready for bed. I'll get Erin. We
might as well have the whole family in here." 

I nodded, so tired, knowing I had to push myself just the last bit,
that the relief of sleep was close, and that with it, we would begin
the process of healing. 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- JACQUELINE POV - 

She looked like Astrid. It was the school uniform, I realised; though
different colours it was the same sort of strict style, an ugly olive
green and a sort of mustard colour, a pleated skirt and neatly ironed
blouse, though somehow in the ten minutes it had taken her to dress
Ebony had managed to make it look as crumpled and lived in as
everything else she wore. She wasn't sloppy, like Astrid - it was a
different sort of look of disorder. Ebony looked like already she'd
been huddled in a dark cave, hiding, for a month in those same
clothes.  

I'd already packed all of her things. There would have been no point in
telling her to do it herself. She hadn't been listening to me at all
since I'd told her coldly - the only way I knew how to talk to her, and
I hated myself for it - that I'd gotten her into St Paul's school, and
that she was going to live there now, instead of with me. I wasn't sure
if she was upset, angry or glad at the news. I didn't know if she even
felt any of those emotions at all, anymore. A school counsellor could
figure that one out. It wasn't my problem anymore - or wouldn't be, in
only a few hours.   

Those few hours that we waited at home were hell. She was balled up on
the couch, watching a talk show and then the morning news. I tried to
occupy myself with Noah but my eyes kept returning to her pitiful
figure, and I swung back and forth between emotions, between
desperation for this to be over, for her to be out of my way for good,
and guilt over what I was doing, putting a child like that into a
boarding school, at the mercy at her peers. But it was the right thing
to do. I told myself that again and again, trying to feel certain.
Ebony needed to be around other children. She needed to be at school.
She needed people who could encourage her to open up, who could deal
with her, who had the objectivity to see what she needed and give it to
her.  

"Yahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Noah sang, watching me.
"Yahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaahhhh." 

"Yeah, you're so grown up, aren't you?" I pushed myself constantly to
sound encouraging, friendly, motherly. It was becoming easier, day by
day, but it was slow. This would be no overnight miracle. "You're my
big baby." 

He smiled at me. He'd been doing more of that lately, and though it
irrationally panicked me, I smiled back, watching as he clutched the
side of the toybox and pulled himself to his feet. His legs were
unsteady but he managed to keep himself upright for almost ten seconds
before falling back on his backside.  

"Yahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." I heard Noah's baby singing echoed from behind
me and turned my head, realising it must have been Ebony. She was
rocking back and forth a little, singing the word slowly over and over,
so softly. "Yahhhhhhhhhh..." 

My heart sank in my chest as I felt a wave of guilt at what I was
doing. But out of sight would be out of mind. We'd both be better off
for it.  
  

I got to my feet, feeling shaky with apprehension. I hadn't planned to
leave for another half an hour but I couldn't wait any longer. I picked
up Noah, putting him in the playpen, and reached for the bigger of
Ebony's suitcases. "Let's start packing the car." 

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- ASTRID POV - 

The alarm clock by Mommy's bed said ten fifty-nine. I guessed I wasn't
going to school today. I didn't care. There were far bigger things in
life than school.  

Mommy was still asleep, so was Josh. I could hear Daddy and Erin in the
kitchen but I just lay in bed for a while, thinking. Last night just
felt surreal. Had I really shot somebody? I couldn't believe I'd done
that. I felt weird, like it meant I wasn't me anymore. 

I got out of bed, confused for a moment when I realised I was in my
pajamas. When had I gotten changed? But no, I remembered, I'd been in
pajamas all along. I'd gone to bed last night thinking I'd sleep til
morning, but then Mommy and Daddy had left for their case, and O'Brien
had turned up, and I'd had to go after him, and I'd shot him... and
Mommy and Daddy had come home again, because we'd needed them. How
could so much have happened in one night? How could that same amount of
hours just disappear every other night in sleep? It made me feel
strange and I shook myself, wishing I could just feel like myself
again, that all this would just go away and I wouldn't have to think
about it anymore. 

Daddy looked up when I came in. He smiled, but he was worried. "How are
you doing this morning?" 

"I'm okay," I answered. If I could convince everybody else maybe I
could even convince myself.  

I went to the pantry, more out of habit than actually hungry, and got
some bread to put in the toaster.  

Daddy was watching me. Well, he was pretending to read the paper, but I
knew he kept glancing at me over the top of it. He wasn't going to say
anything, he was just going to wait until I was ready to talk.  

Even Erin was being quiet, eating dry cereal as she sat in front of the
TV. Erin was hardly ever quiet. Why did she have to be now? I needed
her to be loud and bossy and crazy as always. 
Uncomfortable in the silence, I stared at the toaster, willing it to
pop. I needed to say something to Daddy. Not just to fill the silence,
but because I needed to talk about it sooner or later. He'd understand.

"I'm sorry if I did the wrong thing," I said. I wasn't sure if I had
done the wrong thing or not. I just didn't know. 

Daddy put the paper down. "You didn't do the wrong thing, Astrid." 

"I should have called Duckie or Grandma -" 

"What would they have done?" 

"They would have been there. They would have -" What would they have
done? I wasn't sure. They would have locked the doors, called the
police. What good would that have done? O'Brien would have come back
again tomorrow or the day after, or he would have come after Josh when
he was at school or by himself somewhere. Why was he coming after Josh,
anyway? Because Josh was scared? But there were other kids who were
struggling with school or their families or the world. Why had he
chosen Josh? How had he known Josh was different? 

My toast jumped up out of the toaster. I grabbed it and started to
butter it. Daddy was still watching me, maybe waiting for me to finish
what I'd been saying. I couldn't remember what I'd been saying.  

I took my plate of toast over to the kitchen table and sat opposite
Daddy, looking at my plate as I ate. The silence was horrible but I
didn't know how to tell him. Everything was churning around inside me.
I didn't know where to start. I felt stupid, ashamed somehow, of what
I'd done, of being scared, of missing when I shot at him the first
time, of totally choking up after I did hit him. But how could I tell
Daddy all that? 

I started to cry. I couldn't help myself. I just felt like such a
helpless baby. But Daddy came around the table and put his arms around
me, and though it made me cry even more I felt better, too, because he
made me feel safe.  

I held onto him and I cried, then when I managed to stop crying he
lifted me up and carried me across to the couch and we sat down, me on
his lap. It had been ages since I'd sat on his lap. I felt better.  

"Want to tell me about it?" he asked quietly, and I nodded. 

"I really thought that maybe some day the FBI was where I wanted to
work," I told him. I felt myself getting all teary again and I bit my
lip, trying to stop it. "I liked it when I did work experience with you
and Mommy. I thought I could handle all the bodies and criminals and
everything. But after shooting Mr O'Brien last night, I'm not so
sure..." 

"It's tough, the first time you have to fire at somebody," Daddy said
gently. "You're never prepared for it. And you're a lot younger than
either Mom or I were." 

"But I thought I'd feel more grown up, needing to use a gun. But it
just made me feel even littler. I hated it." 

"When somebody you love is involved you do feel powerless. You were in
a tough situation, Astrid. They don't get much tougher. But you did the
right thing. You should be proud of yourself." 

"I killed somebody!" 

"O'Brien wasn't a man. He was a monster." 

"He hadn't even hurt anybody!" 

"What do you think he was going to do to Josh?" 

"Only what he did to me. He fed on my fear. He got bigger and
stronger." 

"But he was still going after Josh, even when he was big and strong.
Why?" 

"Because..." I didn't know. "Because he knew Josh was different? But
I'm different, too." 

"But you're not as afraid as Josh is. The fear that O'Brien got from
you - and all those other kids at your school - was only a temporary
fix. He needed more than that. He needed something that would last." 

I could almost understand what he was getting at, but it still didn't
make any sense. "And Joshie's fear would last?" 

"Josh's fear will last a lifetime. The depth with which Josh feels
things... O'Brien needed that sort of substance." 

"To do what?" 

"To survive. To be real, to be human again." 

I stared at him. I knew what Mommy would say, that Daddy was just
guessing, that he didn't have any proof. And he didn't. But he knew
that he was right, and I trusted that, even if it did sound crazy.  

"Don't let this make you doubt yourself, Astrid," Daddy said quietly.
"You did a very grownup thing. You were responsible, and brave. Mom and
I are proud of you. I know Josh is, too." 

I nodded, and I just stayed there for a while, letting him protect me.
Maybe what had happened would end up being good for me. I was just glad
that we could trust Mom and Dad to be there at the end of it all, when
our own strength ran out.  

I had plenty of time to be grown up. Right then, I just wanted to be
Daddy's little girl. 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- JACQUELINE POV - 

Our footsteps were echoing as we walked along the long corridor. The
school buildings were old, the ceilings high, the walls and pillars
stone, ivy climbing the walls outside. I felt as though I were in an
old English college. 

My footsteps were quick and purposeful, my heels clicking. Ebony was
shuffling along behind me, almost running to keep up. The wide hallway
was cold, a welcome respite from the hot summer sun outside.  

The principal's office was at the end of the corridor. We were shown
in, an airy room with plush carpet, comfortable seats on either side of
a wide desk. School photos adorned all the walls, certificates,
banners.  

"Welcome to St Paul's. I'm Mrs Lockhart, head of the school." She rose
to shake hands, smiling. Taking a seat, I felt a little intimidated.
With my height, job and wardrobe I was usually comfortable in a
professional situation. But the principal with her cool demeanor seemed
to have demoted me to the apparently inferior role of parent.  

We were lectured for the next half hour on the rules and regulations of
St Pauls. Parents were allowed to visit on weekends, and were invited
to Sunday mass and then lunch afterward. Any visits during the week had
to be preapproved by the Vice Principal. Students were not allowed to
leave the grounds other than with a school group. I had already signed,
amongst the dozens of other enrolment forms, a note giving the school
discretion when it came to the suitability of field trips.  
Students were expected to participate in a sporting team. Students
would be given homework and sufficient time to complete it after school
hours. Students would keep their rooms tidy and anybody who failed
inspection would be given a detention. Students would answer to their
prefects. 

This was a nightmare, I thought, listening as the list went on and on.
Ebony was huddled in a chair beside me. I couldn't tell if she was
paying any attention at all. 

Mrs Lockheart leaned across the desk. "I know it seems we have a lot of
rules here, but they're in the students' best interests. I'm sure it
won't take Ebony long at all to fit in." 

Glancing across at Ebony, I hardly shared her optimism. But I smiled
politely. It had taken me over an hour on the phone with the school
counsellor and vice principal to talk them into taking a child
mid-term, especially one with such emotional needs. I hadn't told them
quite how difficult she was - if I had, there would have been no chance
of them accepting her. As it was, it was only the donation I'd agreed
to make to the school that had closed the deal.  

She was quiet, I'd said. She was very shy. She'd been hurt by a series
of family breakups. She needed to learn how to socialise with other
kids. She needed structure. 

The principal called in a prefect, an older girl maybe fourteen or
fifteen, tall and earnest. Her uniform was coloured slightly
differently, a show of distinction between the younger and older
students. The school taught grades kindergarten through to twelve.
Ebony would be here another nine years, until she was eighteen and
independant. From the moment I left this building without her she would
be gone from my life. I wouldn't even have to visit. She didn't care
about me. She wouldn't miss me. Maybe she'd be better off. 

"This is Alexandra. She'll be Ebony's student support. Alexandra, could
you take Ebony and Ms Moss across to the dorms? She'll be in four
eighteen with Susie Marks." 

We were ushered out. I thanked the principal and grabbed Ebony's hand.
It was cold and sticky with sweat. Was she scared? I wished she'd show
something, anything. But, then, I was scared too, and I wasn't letting
anybody see. I was wondering if maybe I'd made the right choice in
this. How would Ebony cope with all this? She'd drown. 

We passed classrooms. Some were louder than others, kids laughing,
chatting. The corridor walls, like those in the principal's office,
were covered in photos, banners, student works, all sorts of
memorabilia. 

"This way," Alexandra the prefect said, leading us along a corridor, up
some stairs, around a corner, another corridor. I could feel my heart
racing and told myself to calm down, that I was making the right
choice, I was just nervous about being here. This sort of enviroment
was as new to me as it was to Ebony. She'd settle in. We'd both be
better off.  

The hallways seemed to go forever. We were in the residential wing,
obviously - the doors were numbered, the few that were hanging open
displaying normal-enough looking bedrooms, with bright coloured doonas,
teddy bears and dolls, photos up on walls, posters, drawings.  

Four twelve. Four fourteen. Four sixteen. Four eighteen. The prefect
turned the knob, letting us into the bedroom. 
There were two beds. One was piled high with stuffed animals, pillows,
a tangle of unfolded pajamas. The other bed was only a mattress, folded
blankets and a pillow, pitifully sterile in an otherwise overwhelming
room. The walls were covered with pictures and photos of horses and
dogs, the shelves with books of the same. The dresser against the wall,
a CD player and the fridge were all covered with stickers of faeries,
the ceiling with glow in the dark stars. Everything was colourful,
decorated. Looking at the photos at the wall, I saw the same blond girl
grinning confidently at the camera in most of them, pulling faces,
holding up certificates and trophies, with groups of other girls, with
sporting teams. That was Susie Marks?  
I glanced back at Ebony who stood in the doorway, and when she looked
up at me she shrank back even further. They hadn't said that she would
share a room. I guess I hadn't asked. But how would she survive such an
obviously outgoing roommate? 

Alexandra was waiting respectfully for me. What had this child been
like before coming here? "Would you like some help getting Ebony's
luggage?" 

I'd almost forgotten about that. It was still in the car. "If you don't
mind." 
  

Ebony trailed after us back down to the car. She only had two
suitcases, then her pillow and stuffed platypus from Australia. I
unpacked them from the trunk of the car, piling them on the gravel of
the parking lot. I passed the smaller of the suitcases to Alexandra to
carry, then held Ebony's pillow and platypus out to her. She shook her
head with a whimper. Not wanting to deal with her, I pushed them into
her arms and lifted the big suitcase. 

"We can take a short cut over here and get the elevator up," Alexandra
suggested.  

I nodded, trying to be firm. "Let's do that." I shifted my grip on the
suitcase, telling myself that I was only sweating because of the heat,
and started to follow her. After about ten feet I stopped, turning
around. Ebony stood still, clutching her pillow and stuffed platypus. 

"Ebony!" I called sharply. "Let's go." 

She didn't move. I put the suitcase down and went back to her. "Ebony,
I'm not putting up with this. Come on." 

Another tiny whimper. She was trembling. That stopped me for a second.
I hadn't seen this much emotion from her since the night Grae left. It
threw me off balance. But it didn't change things. I couldn't - I
wouldn't let myself cave in. 

"I can't keep you, Ebony! I can't have you in my life! You have to stay
*here*, with these people. They'll take care of you. Do you understand?
I can't have you!" 

She cowered as I yelled at her, but still didn't budge. I turned away,
not knowing what to do now. God, help me out here... 

Gazing around at the school gardens, I sucked in a deep breath, calming
myself. I turned back to face her. "Listen, Ebony -" I broke off,
stunned. She was crying. Fat tears rolling down her cheeks, falling on
the stuffed platypus. Silent tears, but I felt my heart ache for her. I
knew what was going through her mind. She was pleading that she not
have to do this. Her life may not have been great but it was the only
world she knew. I was all she had left, and I'd tried to take that away
from her, from a child who had been abandoned again and again her
entire life, who had lost everything she'd ever been given. She needed
me. Had it taken me this long to realise that? Maybe I even needed her,
too.  

I crouched down in front of her, and cautiously pulled her against me.
Her tiny body was stiff, jumping with every silent sob. She didn't
reach for me but I didn't expect it. She was letting me hold her. That
was an achievement in itself. 

"You've got to work with me, Ebony," I said softly. I knew for the
first time in weeks that I'd made a right decision. I already felt
resigned to the struggle ahead. "I don't know how to do this," I added
honestly. "My life is messed up, too. But I know I wouldn't want anyone
to leave me and so I won't leave you. I promise you that." 

I released her, then straightened. "Plans are changed," I told
Alexandra quietly. "Ebony won't be staying here." 

"A lot of new kids get nerves. If you just want to speak to the
counsellor -" 

"No, this is my decision. Thank you, anyway." I took the suitcase from
her. "We'll speak to the principal about this." 

She hesitated, as if unsure whether her job was done, then nodded,
wishing me good luck and walking along the path and disappearing into
the main building. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for just a
brief second, feeling the warm sun through my jacket. When I turned
back to Ebony I found her already in the car, belted in, still hugging
the platypus. 
I opened the door, crouching down again so that we were eye to eye.
"I've got to go see the principal to clear all this up. It might take a
while. You going to stay here?"  

She nodded. Give a little, get a little. 

"I'll be as quick as I can." I reached cautiously to touch her hair, to
reassure her. She pulled back from me, eyes wide on my face, but then
relaxed a little, warily allowing me to stroke her curls. This wasn't
going to be easy, but it was a start. 

"I'll be back soon, then we'll go home, have some lunch... get you out
of that ugly uniform." I smiled at her. I didn't expect a smile in
return, and I didn't get one. But I felt okay. I could deal with this.
Give a little, get a little. 

I stood, straightening my legs. Panic seemed to hit Ebony as I reached
to close the car door and so I stopped, leaving it open. "I'll be back
soon." I smiled at her again, feeling so much lighter, almost free,
somehow. Maybe it was just the warm sun, the sounds of all the students
as they ran to lunch, the smell of freshly-cut grass and the roses
along the drive, but I felt stilled, peaceful in a way I hadn't for a
long time. I felt strong, confident, not like a child playing grown-up
like I had in my relationship with Graham, but a real adult, ready to
accept my responsibilities, to embrace the challenge of them. 

Things seem bad, but don't be sad, you'll make it through this all... I
smiled as I remembered Josh's words. Only half an hour ago I'd felt as
though I were walking further and further into the darkness. Now I was
out in the light and it was already brighter than I remembered. 

We were going to make things okay. I would help Ebony and she would
help me, and with Noah the three of us would make some sort of family.
I couldn't stop hating Graham for who he was and what he'd done to me,
but I wouldn't let that hate ruin the rest of my life. I was
twenty-one. As Josh, wise, beautiful Josh had said, I still had time.
There was still a lifetime ahead of me. It was time to start living it.

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- MULDER POV - 

She was working. She'd been asleep when I'd checked in half an hour
ago, and now she was propped up on the pillows, laptop on a pillow,
balanced on her belly. 

"What are you doing?" 

She looked up at me, tucking the hair back behind her ears with a
sheepish grin. She knew she was in trouble. "Trying to write a summary
of our spider case." 

"You're supposed to be resting." 

"I'm in bed, I'm resting. I'm just trying to get some work done. Trying
to resolve it in my mind, I guess. We still don't know why the spider
only attacked those individuals. There was nothing random about it.
It's almost as if it had motive... intelligence." 

I sat down on the edge of the bed. "Maybe," I thought aloud, "it felt
threatened." 

"Threatened?" she echoed. 

I shrugged. "Maybe as Warren Litchfield said. Maybe the monkey flower
was only what led the spider to the victims. Maybe it was about more
than that, about all the plants that are being modified and hybridised.
The eco-system is thrown out of whack. Whatever these scientists are
doing with these plants is threatening the spider's natural existence
and the spider is striking out to preserve what little is left." 

"Protecting itself." 

I shrugged again. "Just a theory." 

She nodded, gazing past me, pensive. I reached for the laptop and that
brought her back to reality. "Hey! Mulder! I'm almost done..." 

"Nope." I smiled, tapping the keys to save and close the file, then
putting the laptop away on her dresser. She sat watching me, arms
folded. 

"Mulder... Come on! Please? I don't have anything else to do. I'll go
crazy here." 

I smiled at the whining, turning my back to her as I pulled the spare
TV out of the closet, pushing aside the laptop to set it on the
dresser. I moved the DVD player in from the living room, connected it
up, then produced my boxed set of Star Wars DVDs. She smiled, but shook
her head. 

"You've got to be kidding." 

I slipped the first DVD from the case and fed it into the player. "I
kid you not." I grinned, tossing myself down on the bed beside her with
the remote. Music filled the room as the opening sequence scrolled down
the screen. I wriggled further up so that we were sitting side by side.
She turned her head to look at me, that precious look of amused
disdain. I grinned, moving closer beside her, sliding an arm between
her back and the pillows and the other across her belly, just holding
her. "Perfect." 

"Maybe for you." She peeled me off her. "But I need to pee." 
  

The kids were in and out as we watched. All three of them were fans,
Erin in particular. She loved to mimic R2D2 and Darth Vader. Both
Astrid and Josh had been quiet all day and seemed content to cuddle up
with us and watch, to play baby games with Erin as she climbed over all
of us, to laugh at her and feign injury when she tried using a
flashlight as a lightsaber. 

We were halfway through The Empire Strikes Back. I glanced down at
Scully to find her asleep, sandwiched between Josh and Erin.  

"Okay, everybody out," I ordered. "Let Mom rest." 

She stirred. Not entirely asleep. "Let them stay," she murmured, not
opening her eyes. "I don't mind." 

"Joshie!" Astrid shoved Josh. He'd accidently elbowed her. He pushed
her back and she tried to get him in a headlock. 

"Okay, changed my mind," Scully muttered, eyelids fluttering as she
smiled. She gazed at me sleepily, dreamily.  

I shooed the kids out, telling them to find something for us to have
for dinner. I switched off the TV, then sat on the edge of the bed.
"You're not faking this to get me out of the way so that you can finish
your report, are you?" 

She smiled widely at that. I reached across, touching her chin, loving
how her whole face lit up when she smiled. I kissed my fingertips, then
touched her lips.  

"You get some sleep. And don't worry; we'll have you slaving after us
again in no time." 
  

     - - - - } - - - - } - - @        t h e   x - f i l e s  

- SCULLY POV - 

It smelt like summer. The grass, the dirt, the crisp freshness of the
night sky. So many stars, each one a tiny ball of light, so pure, so
beautiful.  

"Batter up!" Mulder called, grinning, tossing the baseball up in the
air. I took the bat from Astrid and stepped up to the plate. He feigned
a pitch and Astrid, now out near second base, called out in impatience.
"Daddy! Get on with it!" 

He pitched and I swung at it. It was an easy ball but I was unbalanced
and missed. I hadn't taken my new body into consideration. 

"Try planting your left foot further forward... no, other way. Wait a
second." Mulder gestured for Josh to take his place, tossing him the
ball. He jogged toward me, grinning. "Never had to direct a pregnant
woman how to hit a baseball before." 

"Believe me, this is a first for me, too." 

"Better be. If I find out you've been seeing other baseball coaches..."

I smiled, loving the freedom and confidence with which he moved, that
spark in him as bright as the brightest star in the sky. Put Mulder on
a baseball field and he was a cocky twelve year old again, young and
energetic, excited about life. The kids loved it, too. There was
something liberating about  the wide open grassy field, the fluorescent
field lights, the stars, the thwack of bat and ball connecting and the
cheers of encouragement.  

He put his arms around me from behind, sneaking a kiss at the back of
my neck as he put his hands over mine on the back. I leaned back into
him, more interested in that second in him than in playing baseball. He
sensed that quickly enough, chuckling as he kissed my neck a couple
more times, his hands rippling over mine on the bat.  

"You guys!" It was Astrid, grinning even as she groaned. Josh was
smiling to himself. Even Erin was still for a second, watching us with
wide eyes. She looked at Astrid, confused. 

"No hitting?" 

"Kissing first." Astrid told Erin, with mock-disgust. 

"Kissing first?" 

"Yep. It's a baseball rule." 

I laughed, nudging Mulder off me. We could get back to that later.
Right now, the kids were waiting for us. 
He manouevered me around a little, setting my feet further apart, then
took a step back, calling for Josh to pitch. Like Mulder's pitch, it
was an easy ball, nice and slow. I swung, managing to hit it, but my
positioning was still wrong and it was a foul. I repositioned myself
and swung the bat a few times, trying to get reaquainted with the
weight, then I called for another pitch. 

The ball cracked against the bat, flying up into the air. Not a home
run, but it sent both Astrid and Erin running. I wished that I could
run myself, see how many bases I could make, but instead I just watched
as Astrid grabbed it, passing it to Erin to throw to Josh. Thrown by
Erin, the ball only flew a few feet before thudding along the ground,
but she'd put enough into it that it rolled the rest of way.  

"Nice hit." Mulder wrapped his arms around me again. "You sure you're
not cheating on me?" 

I smiled enigmatically, pulling away from him and passing him the bat.
"I'll go in outfield." 

I did some fielding, though I couldn't chase after Astrid and Josh'
home runs, then some pitching. It was easy going but after about half
an hour I handed over for Mulder to pitch and went to sit down at the
side, needing to rest my feet.  

We'd brought a blanket along with us and I tossed it on the damp grass,
tired but glad for the exercise. I'd kept my promise to Mulder, bedrest
for the last three days, but I'd needed to get out of the house. I felt
so much better outside in the fresh air, more alive. The irony of it
was that, despite my sore feet, the pregnancy felt like less of a
burden when I was active. Sitting at home, practically not allowed to
move from one place to another without an excuse, I felt as though I'd
been pregnant forever, as if this baby must almost be ready to start
kindergarten. I hadn't felt this way when I was pregnant with Erin.
Things had been different.  

Mulder was teaching Erin how to hit, helping her hold the bat. He'd had
a lighter wooden bat that he'd used years ago when he'd first taught
Josh and Astrid how to play. We'd lost it somewhere, I guessed. We'd
have to get another. No doubt this new little girl would be getting
lessons soon enough. She certainly seemed active enough for it. 

"We ready? Okay, one, two - Now, Astrid - Three! Oh, we missed. Yeah,
oopsie. How about we try again? Huh? Little slower this time, Astrid.
Let's count together. What are we counting to? A hundred? No, I think
just to three. Just to three. One, two, three! Wow. Look at this,
monkey! You hit that all by yourself. Go on, you've got to run. All the
way to first base, fast as you can. Yeah, keep running. Oops, you
missed it, but doesn't matter, doesn't matter. On to second base -
Watch her, Josh, her shoelace is undone - and keep running! Yeah! Look
at her go! She's almost there. Look how fast monkey can run! Keep
going, keep going..." 

Erin threw herself down when she reached home plate, shrieking in
delight, a huge grin stretching her face. Mulder picked her up,
swinging her up into the air, playing airplane. A scuffle broke out
between Josh and Astrid and they both ran to Mulder, each of them
wanting to be next to bat, pleading over each other. Josh managed to
hold his ground when it came to those arguments, and I was glad. It was
normal childhood bickering. 
Mulder lowered Erin down, letting Josh and Astrid catch her. On the
ground she tried to do a somersault but Mulder called her to him,
reaching to retie her shoelaces for her. Back on his feet, he put the
bat in Astrid's hands, the ball in Josh's. 

"Got some tricks to show you, buddy. Over here. Astrid, you get ready
to hit 'em."  

The baby was kicking. I smiled, stroking my side to calm her. "Your
time will come soon enough," I soothed, watching as Mulder demonstrated
to Josh how to throw a curve ball. Astrid, bored, had put the bat down
and was trying to teach Erin how to cartwheel on the grass.  

I felt a little out of it, wishing I could play with them, only being
able to watch. But there was too much joy in watching for me to really
mind. And there wasn't much longer until this baby was out in the world
and I had my own body back. My time would come soon enough, too. 

Until then...  
  

"Great pitch! See, she thought it'd spin to the left. Try it again.
Astrid, see if you can - Attagirl, Erin, run for it. You can catch it.
Toss it to me. Big throw, right up high... Yeah! Great work. Try
another one, kiddo. You ready? Kids? On the count of three.." 
  

fin.