TITLE: The Genesis Project IV AUTHOR: aRcaDIaNFall$ FEEDBACK: as always, is welcomed, cherished and framed at arcadianfalls@yahoo.com.au. RATING: PG-13 SPOILERS: Nothing specific. You'll need to have read The Genesis Project series so far to really understand this, though. CLASSIFICATION: SRA DISTRIBUTION: Ask me first, please. I'll send to Gossamer myself. :) SUMMARY: Number four in the Genesis Project series. Scully has the flu and is struggling to keep everything together, Mulder can't get past his fear of hurting Erin, Jacqueline's interference is driving everbody mad and the kids are feeling the stress of the rocky relationship. It takes a brutal outburst at work and a warning from Skinner to set Mulder and Scully back on course and prompt a new family policy of absolute honesty. Meanwhile, Jacqueline's new relationship with an older man has Scully concerned. AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic swaps character POVs every part. To find the rest of the series and my other fics, please visit my website at http://www.geocities.com/arcadianfalls/ !! - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s The Genesis Project IV by aRcaDIaNFall$ - SCULLY POV - A splash and sudden cry jolted me awake from restless sleep. My head reeled and my stomach lurched as I raised myself up off the pillow, but at the reassuring, muffled murmurs I allowed myself to sink back down again, willing the nausea away. "It's too hot for her. You trying to scald her or something?" "She's fine. Some babies just don't like the water." "Shit!" "Relax, Fox. Just hold her securely. She's not breakable." "She keeps wriggling." "Just hold her tight. You're doing fine." Thank God, I thought sleepily, for Jacqueline. The past few days would have been impossible to manage without her. I'd told Kathy not to come near, but she'd insisted on nannying me as well as Erin, and paid the price for it. But Jacqui had been a blessing, playing nanny, doctor and housekeeper as well as working her usual hours. I didn't know how she'd managed it. I sighed as I heard Erin's cry, wishing that I could hold her in my arms and rock her back to sleep. It had been less than a week since I'd done that and already it felt like forever. I willed the wistfulness away and snuggled down further in the bed. I missed Mulder's warmth beside me, too. "That's it. Just run the washer over her gently. Tickle her belly. She likes that..." I closed my eyes again and dozed. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - I stood in the doorway watching as she slept. Her colour was better. I could now watch her without panicky flashbacks of hospitals and cancer. My secret dread - or, one of - had always been that her cancer wouldn't stay in remission, that she'd get sick again and that this time I'd really lose her. And if she died... It was a question in my mind I could never finish. What would I do if Scully died? How could I exist without her? Was such a thing possible? The thought of carrying on without her filled me with utter dread. There was no other word to describe it. But, as she and Jacqueline had reminded me constantly the past week, it was no more than a bad case of the flu. She'd been back at work with me for less than a month and we'd both thrown ourselves into the cases with energy and enthusiasm. But the fast pace of the work and the inability of two month old infants with earaches to sleep more than an hour and a half at a time had left her an easy target for the flu that was going around. I'd seen how exhausted she'd been looking lately and I should have done something, but she was determined to do her job, just as always. She gave me the lecture I get every time she comes back to work after an illness - that she's there to work and doesn't need my concern. And I respected that, as I always have. Even if it didn't seem like the best way of dealing with things. "Fox?" I turned at Jacqueline's voice and looked at her expectantly. She lifted Erin out of the small tub and laid her on a towel on the table, wrapping it around her expertly and handing me the bundle. "You come rub her dry. I have to go pick the kids up." "Piano practice?" I held Erin gingerly, careful, as always, not to harm her. I couldn't describe the fear I had of hurting her. She was like a glass figurine or fine china - to be handled with extreme care. And I didn't have the best record with things requiring extreme care. "Swimming lessons. Today's Friday. Piano practice is on Tuesdays before baseball." With my memory I guess I should have been expected to keep up. Truth was, the kids went through activities at the same rate Erin went through diapers. Musical instruments, sports, hobbies - they were forever changing, getting bored and wanting to try something else. I think Astrid was the cause of the constant shuffling. Josh was far fonder of routine than she was, and, truth be told, if it wasn't for the his attachment to her and silent motto of "She goes, I follow", I think he would have been content to find something he liked and stick to it for the rest of his life. But Astrid wanted it all; junior self-defense, swimming, skating, pottery classes, art classes, gymnastics, little athletics, baseball, the flute, the piano, the guitar, soccer, scouts, volleyball, dancing - the list was endless. She wanted it all, excelled at most of it, and ninety five percent of the time lost interest after a couple of months, sometimes weeks. But Jacqueline, who discovered and funded these different activities, was always there with another suggestion. It wasn't hard to see that she was making up for her own lack of socialisation as a child. "I'll be back in half an hour. Don't forget to powder her before you put the diaper on." "I can handle diapers," I said defensively. But only, we both knew, because of the long hours she and Astrid had spent helping me perfect the task. It looked easier that it was, I'd discovered. Or maybe Erin was just especially squirmy when it was my turn to change the diaper. Jacqueline just smiled. "See you soon." - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - My head swam as I reached down to pick up a discarded pink sock and I took a second to reevaluate, adding bending to the list of things not so great for my head. Instead I sank down into a chair at the kitchen table, eyeing the mess of advanced math textbooks and pens and sandwich crumbs. Mulder was lying on the couch with his knees up, Erin resting against them. She was diapered and half-dressed, giggling and kicking her feet as he tried to pull a pair of socks on her. I smiled as I watched them, glad that he was taking some time with her. Mulder had been increasingly frustrating lately when it came to looking after Erin - the real problem being that he didn't. Even when I expressed milk he still came up with excuses for me to do the feed, or allowed Astrid to give Erin the bottle, which she did readily. Astrid was fanatical when it came to caring for Erin. She was always playing with her, wanting to bathe her, feed her. It took the duty off us but it also took away her study time, and if I forced her to go back to her books she sulked and pouted and got little done anyway. It was frustrating. Everything was frustrating. I took a deep breath, trying to relax, and stood. "You want some help there?" Mulder looked up almost guiltily. "We're okay, we're almost done." He paused, looking at me. "How are you feeling?" I drew another deep breath and considered the question. "Tired. Drained. But not as nauseous." I held out my arms. "Can I have her?" He hesitated. "You're not still contagious?" "Shouldn't be. I think I'm just suffering the aftereffects of the virus on my system." He nodded, passing her to me awkwardly. I took her silently, cradling her close and breathing in the fresh smell of baby powder. After a few seconds I laid her down on the change table with a sigh. Mulder passed me the clothing he'd picked out and I dressed her. There was tension between Mulder and I that I couldn't explain. Normally during or after an illness he'd be more protective and possessive of me than ever, but in the past week we'd hardly spoken or touched. He was still working, of course, and I didn't want him to catch the virus, so we'd kept apart, me in bed with a bucket on one side and the TV remote on the other, he sleeping on the couch, blowing me a kiss from the doorway before heading off to work. I'd ordered him to keep away, not wanting him to miss work in the middle of a difficult case, but nevertheless I wished that he hadn't obeyed me so readily, that he'd sneak in and kiss me and cuddle me and look after me the way he had in the past. "I've missed you, Mulder," I stated, feeling shaky, hesitant about the step. It disturbed me that I felt that way. He nodded, but not with the real understanding I wished was there. "I've missed you too," he answered. The silence between us was awkward, almost painful. It was like conversing with a stranger. I felt shocked by the emptiness between us. When had this happened? Only during the last week? Or before? The need to escape the situation and think those questions through was immense. I pulled the beanie down on Erin's head and then passed her to Mulder. "I'm going to take a shower." He nodded and I hesitated, wanting to touch him, hug him, kiss him, to reassure myself that we were still Scully and Mulder. But I did none of those things. Instead I turned and left the room. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - STILL SCULLY POV - I felt much better after the shower. I stayed under for a while, enjoying the water gently pounding my neck and shoulders, the fresh cleanliness the soap and shampoo gave. I combed my hair, took the time to blowdry it. I found more confidence in myself as I studied my reflection. Confident enough to address a problem I could no longer ignore. I found Mulder on the couch watching football, Erin asleep in the crook of his arm. I slipped down beside him. "Mulder?" "Yeah?" "Why are you so scared of Erin?" He looked at me with not entirely convincing innocence. "I'm not." I sighed, frustrated. "I heard you and Jacqui before. And I've seen ....." Seeing the unyeilding expression on his face, I gave up. "Forget it. How about we go out for a walk? Just the three of us. I'm okay if we go slow." "We can't." He shifted Erin awkwardly in his arms. "Jacqueline's bringing the kids home." I stared at him helplessly. What had happened to us? Nothing was making sense. There hadn't been such a distance between us in a long time. I couldn't express the terror I felt at the sudden walls between us. I didn't know what to say or what to do. I inched closer to him, ever so hesitantly, and touched his arm. "Mulder?" "Mommeeeeeeeeeeeee!" Astrid's squeal broke though the silence like a sledgehammer. The door slammed shut after her. "Mommy, I got my butterfly certificate!" I stood slowly, cautious of my head, and turned to face her. She proudly pushed the printed certificate in my face and I took it, dutifully examining it and trying to muster up some enthusiasm. "That's great, Astrid. I'm very proud of you." Astrid wrapped her arms around my waist in a tight hug before pulling away. "You look better, Mommy," she said, adding critically, "But unhappy. What's wrong?" "I'm fine, sweetie," I responded automatically. I could sense Mulder's reaction behind me to the phrase I knew he hated. "Just a little tired." Astrid's expression didn't let on whether she believed me or not, which was good, because I knew she didn't. Instead, she nodded, skipping past me to Mulder. "Was Erin a good girl today?" she demanded playfully, taking her sister from Mulder's arms. There was an expertise in the way she handled Erin that Mulder lacked. What I couldn't understand was why. He was great with Astrid and Josh, confident with them. Why was this so different? Because she was so young? Because she was ours? The door closed again, this time behind Jacqueline and Josh and with considerably more care. Jacqueline carried the kids' school bags and blazers, towels and Astrid's flippers, while Josh sucked on a sherbet lollypop. The smell of chlorine was pervasive. "Mulder, you want to get the kids in the shower?" I prodded. "Astrid first - she has an assignment to do for Monday that she hasn't started yet." "No fair!" Astrid protested. "I'm playing with Erin!" "Do as Mom says, Astrid." Mulder's voice was harder than usual and Astrid recognised the warning in it. "Fine," she pouted, passing the baby to me and heading for the bathroom. "Scully..." Mulder stared at me for a full five seconds before shaking his head. "Don't worry." He turned and herded Josh out of the room. "I'm sensing tension," Jacqueline observed, dropping down onto the couch. I sat in the armchair, wishing it was the rocker from our bedroom. I loved to rock in it with Erin in my arms, lull us both to sleep. "Oh, really?" I felt nasty being sarcastic but my emotions were in turmoil. I still felt weak and tired and what I really needed was to curl up in Mulder's arms. That such a thing wasn't happening was enough to make me feel on the verge of tears. Comfort and love was all and everything I needed to keep me sane, and without them I felt uncontrollably miserable. Even Erin, now sleeping soundly in my arms, was little comfort. "You guys haven't had a chance to talk much, have you?" "We haven't had a chance for anything, lately," I answered miserably. "We're acting like strangers and I have no idea where we went wrong or how I'm supposed to fix it." I was surprised at how honest I was being with Jacqueline. I was usually fairly frank with her, but now I wasn't holding back at all. There was just something about her presence that made it impossible to keep my walls up and she always listened as it all tumbled out. Especially now, as groggy and lightheaded as I was feeling. Jacqueline's next question took me completely by surprise. "Is this because of me?" "Why because of you?" I felt suddenly distrustful of her. "I've been here a lot, that's all. More since your nanny went down with the flu but before that, even. Looking after you and helping Fox and the kids. Fox and I have been getting along well. I just don't want you to misinterpret that." It took me a moment to realise what she was implying - that I might be jealous of the way she'd embedded herself in the family, essentially taking my place, gaining Mulder's interest. I hadn't even thought about it that way - all that had mattered was that she was a friend helping me when I needed help. "But it's not like there's anything between you and Mulder," I stated. I knew that. The idea was just ridiculous. They'd never gotten along well. And Mulder was faithful. But, then... "Of course not. I just didn't want you to think that there was." There wasn't anything between them, but there was no longer animosity or irritation either. I'd heard them laughing together at something Astrid said the other night, when she dropped Astrid home after dance class. I'd heard them once or twice having whispered converstions as they stood in my bedroom doorway. A sudden jealousy of Jacqueline rose up within me. Jacqueline, the only one who called my husband 'Fox' and was forever analysing our relationship and giving advice, Jacqueline who knew my kids' schedules better than I did. I felt a surge of intense dislike and immediately chided myself for being so petty. Jacqueline was helping keep the family together. She was a friend, a comforter, the younger sister I never had. She was nosy, but I could deal with it. Maybe. Overwhelmed, I shook my head, immediately regretting the action as the world spun. "Everything will work out," I muttered, unconvinced even as I said it. Erin whimpered in my arms and, glancing at the kitchen clock, I saw that it was time for a feed. There were still a few bottles of expressed milk in the fridge and I fetched one, warming it in the microwave before giving it to Erin and holding it as she sucked greedily. I settled back down in the armchair, relaxed a little, listening to the funny sucking sounds that she made. Jacqueline was silent and I was glad of it. I wanted to, just for a few moments, clear my mind of all my worries and fears and enjoy the baby in my arms. My baby. "You don't regret having Erin, do you?" I looked up to see Jacqueline's curious gaze on me. "I mean, she's complicated your lives a lot." "I don't regret her at all," I answered with certainty, wondering what had spurred the question. "Why? Did Mulder say something?" "No, no." She looked flustered for a moment and it set off an alarm bell in my head. "Tell me," I pushed. "Mulder regrets having Erin?" Jacqueline shook her head. "You couldn't be further from the truth." "So, what is it? Why isn't he talking to me?" She shook her head again. "I don't like being the middle man here, Dana. It's your marriage, not mine." "Yeah." I stared down at Erin morosely. "A marriage." At that moment I didn't feel I was part of a marriage. In a way, I barely felt part of my own family. "This has been a bad week, Dana. When you get back to work everything will go back to normal. Things have just been thrown out of sync." She paused. "When's your nanny coming back?" "She thinks she'll be back by Monday." "So you can go back to work and get back to things." I sighed heavily, closing my eyes. I could hear my pulse pounding in my ears, echoing around in my skull. "I don't know about work. I want to be there but I don't know if I can. I don't have enough time, or energy, or..." "Support?" Jacqueline stared at me intently, as though reading my thoughts. I nodded. "I don't think I can wait until we go back to work to fix things with Mulder. If we don't trust each other and support each other, we're going to get killed out there." Jacqui was silent for a minute. Finally, she asked, "You want my advice?" I nodded slowly. I was willing to hear anybody's advice. Whether I would follow it or not was another matter. "You're still not well. Go to bed, get a good night's sleep, and then talk to Fox tomorrow. You've had a particularly nasty strain of the flu ravaging your system and it's bound to affect you emotionally. Wait until you know you're thinking clearly and then sit down and talk to Fox calmly if you still feel it's necessary." It seemed logical even to my foggy mind and I nodded. The pounding in my head grew louder and more insistent and I wished I had a free hand to massage my temples. "You look like you should go back to bed," Jacqueline said gently. A wave of nausea hit me as she spoke and I nodded, allowing her to take Erin from me. The pounding was increasing as if about to hit a crescendo and I stumbled into the bedroom, crawling into bed and gratefully surrendering to the darkness. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - JACQUELINE POV - I felt awkward around Dana. The truth was that, somehow, Fox had been looking to me for advice during the couple of days. Nobody had ever leaned on me the way that he did and, as glad as I was to help look after the kids, I wondered why Fox had temporarily established me as the mother figure of his family. He was genuinely confusing me. I couldn't understand his motives, why he was so shy and wary around Dana, why he hated taking responsibility for Erin. Was it work? Was it Dana's illness? Would it pass? As much as I wanted to drag the truth from him, I didn't feel it was my place to have it out with him. I wouldn't, I resolved. Once Erin had finished her bottle I sat down with her in the rocker in Dana's bedroom, rocking gently, imagining she was mine. It wasn't so long ago that I'd rocked Joshua and Astrid to sleep in that same way. It had been something I'd enjoyed - one of the only things I'd liked about my life with Cate and Rodger. It was something that my life now seemed to be lacking. I laid the baby in her crib, switching on the pseudo-Acquarium nightlight, and checked Dana. She stirred, sleepily admitting that her head was pounding. I gave her asprin and a glass of water to wash it down with, then closed the bedroom curtains to block out the late afternoon sun. I ran into Fox as I tiptoed out. He was standing in the doorway staring at her, so focused that he didn't notice my presence until I tugged at his arm. "I thought she was feeling better." "She's got a headache. She really just needs a couple of days to rest, Fox." All my good resolutions flew out the window as I asked, "Why are you being so distant?" He looked hurt. "Did she say that?" I didn't answer that, instead pushing ahead with my own questions. "Why aren't you looking after her?" "She told me to keep away." Again, he looked hurt, resentful. "I'm just doing what she said." "I'm not buying it, Fox." He got angry. "Are you saying I don't care about her? You know how much I care about her!" "Yes, I know," I agreed, a trifle annoyed at his defensive anger. "But she needs you to show that. She's exhausted herself trying to work and look after you and the kids. Why aren't you helping her more?" "Don't attack me!" he shot back. "This isn't between you and I. This is between Scully and I." "She doesn't think there's anything between you two at the moment except a gaping chasm," I retorted. That stunned him. He stared at me, his eyes wide with sudden panic. I wondered for a moment if I'd said too much - I was going more on gut instinct than actual facts and it was bound to get me into trouble. I continued on a safer track. "Fox, you need to talk to her. You can't keep ignoring her." "I'm not ignoring her," he protested quietly. I could see that he was shaking. "She needs to know that she can count on you, that's all." He shook his head. "I've had enough of this." I wanted to slap him, force him to listen to reason, but I knew for certain now that I'd already said enough, maybe too much. Most likely too much. I had a habit of interfering in their relationship and regretting it afterward. I stood. "I'm going to head home. Are you guys alright to make dinner?" He nodded. I headed toward the door, stopping when I reached it, about to make a parting shot. A warning. But I changed my mind. He needed all the encouragement he could get. "Best of luck." He nodded, and I closed the door behind me. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - I sat alone for about ten minutes after she left, my head churning with thoughts. True, things between Scully and I cooled off over the past few weeks, but I hardly thought it was as bad as Scully saw it. Lack of time had been the biggest issue - work had been hectic lately, Scully and I investigating all the cases I'd shelved in her absence. But it hadn't just been the full schedule of interrogations and deliberations or the nonstop talking and crying that greeted us when we got home. It was the fact that the few spare moments we found we hoarded greedily, kept them to ourselves. We no longer made the time to give each other. We no longer felt that fierce loyalty and possessiveness of each other. And that, I knew, was bad news. But we didn't need Jacqui butting in like that. Why the hell couldn't she just mind her own business? I made my way slowly into our darkened bedroom, sitting gently on the edge of the bed. For the first time in days I just sat and looked at her, reaching down to brush her hair away from her face. I needed to refocus - focus on her. Just forget about the kids and Jacqueline and work for the time being and focus on loving her. I laid my finger on her lips and she jolted awake with a little gasp, giving me an uncertain smile when she saw who it was. "I love you," I whispered, hoping she wouldn't doubt my sincerity. She smiled wistfully, sleepily. "I know. Sometimes we just get a little misguided." Misguided. Yeah, that might just cover it. "Mulder, you don't really regret having Erin, do you?" Her voice dropped to a bare whisper. She sounded so sleepy that I wondered if she'd remember this conversation later. "I love her, Scully. You know that." "So why are you so afraid to touch her?" I tried to think of a way of expressing my fears that wouldn't sound entirely stupid. Truth was, my greatest difficulty was in reconciling my fierce possessiveness of Erin with the desire to protect her. I knew the mess I'd made of Scully's life - my strong, independant Scully. If I could cause so much pain in the life of somebody so strong... I couldn't imagine what sort of damage I could cause our perfect, tiny daughter. I knew full well how parents could destroy their children's lives, and I refused to do that. Not to this beautiful redheaded baby. "Because she's ours," I said slowly. "Because she's a perfect creation and I just want to stay as far away as possible so I don't mess up her life. Because I'm scared I'm going to hurt her." "Why didn't you just say that in the first place?" she whispered accusingly. "I didn't think you'd understand that," I admitted. I'd been afraid that she'd just laugh at my fears, tell me I was being overprotective and paranoid. I saw a wall go up in Scully's eyes. "I see." I knew that to pursue the matter further at that time was a lost cause, so I bent to gently kiss her forehead. "You go back to sleep. I'll bring some dinner in to you later." She nodded numbly, rolling over to face away from me. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - Astrid brought my dinner in, sitting beside me as I picked at it. My headache had subsided but I still felt sleepy and confused, still wished that the problems between Mulder and I weren't complicated by the kids and Jacqueline. What we needed, I thought, was some time with just the two of us. Time to sort out what was really going on between us, because I had little idea. Was there a genuine reason why we were drifting apart? I knew that sometimes that happened without reason, that interests changed and feelings changed and, as a result, relationships changed. But how could we reverse what had happened? How could we recapture the closeness we had? "Duckie said she'd take us to see the Michelangelo exhibit at the art gallery tomorrow," Astrid ventured. "You and Josh?" "And Erin, too, if you want." Astrid looked at me levelly. "You and Daddy could go somewhere together if you wanted. If you're feeling better." "Does Jacqueline know about this offer yet?" It was something I usually found amusing, the way Astrid organised people's lives and informed them later. "Not yet." She broke out in a grin. "But I'll tell her. If you want to." "What about your assignment?" She rolled her eyes impatiently and shrugged. "I can do it on Sunday. It's easy." I changed the subject. "What about Graham? Is he going to be invited along tomorrow?" Astrid grinned again. "You think we'd get Duckie anywhere without him? Besides, it's fun watching them. They're cute." I couldn't believe that Astrid could talk about her older sister and a man old enough to be her father in such a way. It reminded me of the first few comments Jacqueline had made about Mulder and I. Though we could hardly be described as cute anymore... Astrid scrambled down off the bed, pausing to peck me on the cheek. "You finished your dinner yet?" I nodded, allowing her to mother me and take the plate away. It was almost nine but I didn't want to let myself fall asleep yet, so I flicked on the TV, flipping through the channels until I found an old Picket Fences rerun. I was still watching it, albeit half-asleep, when Mulder came in. "Hey." He hovered a few feet away from the bed. I pulled myself more upright, rubbing my eyes. "Hey." I thought he was going to come closer but instead he moved over to the crib, picking up Erin. She whimpered quietly. I woke up a little, an immediate reaction to the sound. What was it Ellen had always called it? 'Mommy radar', something like that. I now knew what she meant. "She wasn't asleep, was she?" "Yeah," he admitted. "Why?" I sighed. "Then it's your job to get her back to sleep again." It was the wrong attitude to take, I know now, but my judgement wasn't so great then. I was tired, half-asleep, and the problems with Mulder and Jacqueline's interference had left me in a crabby mood. "She'll be fine." His tone was neutral but I knew my stupid comments had hurt him. "I'm sorry, Mulder," I murmured, drawing my knees up and resting my head in my hands. "I'm awful when I get sick like this. Especially when it drags on and on." He half-smiled. "You've gotten over cancer faster." It was an attempt at a joke but it struck a wrong vein and I felt my irritation rising. I willed it down. He looked down at the bundle in his arms. "I do love her, you know. I just get intimidated by you and Jacqueline and Kathy and Astrid... you all know what you're doing. And I don't trust myself." "I trust you with my life, Mulder," I said earnestly. "I trust you with Erin's life. I know that if you love her anywhere near as much as you love me, you'd lay down your life for her." He stared down at Erin. "I don't deserve either of you." The frustration that had been temporarily subdued flared up again at this old argument. "Mulder, dammit, don't even start with that!" He looked stunned at the outburst and I felt immediately contrite. "I'm sorry. It's just..." I shrugged, trying to word what I wanted to say. "Don't you ever feel you're not worthy of us, Mulder." He nodded slowly, chewing on his lower lip. "You get some sleep, okay? I'm going to tuck the kids into bed." He lowered Erin back into the crib and left without waiting for a reply. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - She was propped up on the pillows reading in bed when I came in. After sleeping on the couch for the past several nights the bed seemed huge - even after I slipped in beside her. She was wearing her reading glasses and her hair shone in the lamplight. She was a little pale, a little more drawn, but it brought out the dusting of freckles across her nose. She was still beautiful. She knew I was looking at her and I was beginning to think she didn't mind when she turned to face me accusingly. "What?" "I love you." It must have sounded like I was trying to soften her up but all I wanted at that moment was to love her, to exalt her. She frowned. "Nothing's that simple, Mulder." We were on different planets. I didn't know how to communicate. No words could bridge the gap. Hesitantly, I reached to put her bookmark in her book and close it, gently taking it from her hands. She stared at me with that same accusing look and I held her gaze firmly, pleading. She slid her reading glasses off and lay them, folded, on the bedside table. Then she looked at me expectantly. "I'm sorry I'm haven't been supportive lately," I began. "No more apologising, Mulder," she said, weary but gentle. I could imagine how she felt - both physically exhausted, the last thing we needed was to exhaust ourselves emotionally as well. I nodded, and moved closer to lay a kiss on her cheek. "Goodnight Scully... Dana." Her lip curled in an ironic smile. "Dana... I must be dying." I didn't know if that was to provoke or tease but I forced myself to stay calm. Cautiously, I kissed her on the lips - just light and gentle, no expectations. I pulled away and her expression softened for a moment before growing confused. We were back in the land of hesitation over rights and boundaries. "Goodnight, Mulder," she whispered. She reached to switch off the bedside lamp and then rearranged her pillows, snuggling down. I reached out and slid my hand across her silk-sheathed stomach, hesitating. "Can I hold you?" - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - I froze when he touched me and I felt a stab of panic. I knew I had nothing to fear of Mulder's touch. It was always comforting, gentle and yet playful. But now, after so many years, it was unfamiliar and awkward. "Yeah," I whispered in almost unwilling assent. He wriggled closer to fully embrace me and I felt the kiss he placed on my hair. Every sense was working overtime, his familiar smell, the regular pattern of his breathing. His fingers were brushing up and down my side under the pajama shirt. Then, suddenly, it clicked. I became me again. The touch became familiar. His breathing was like a song crooning me to sleep. I settled into the embrace, drawing a deep satisfied breath, feeling in my sleepy muddled mind that I'd finally found my way home from the other side of the mirror. If I'd known the feeling wouldn't last long I would have made more of it. "I'm sorry about the things I said," I murmured. "I love you." But he'd already fallen asleep. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - When I woke that morning she was already in the shower and when she appeared she was looking more energetic than I'd seen her in months, her eyes bright, a smile playing around her lips. "You're looking great." I couldn't help but grin when I saw how refreshed and fit she looked. And hope that it meant our problems of the last few days were over. "I'm feeling great," she agreed, giving me an enigmatic smile. "Thanks for doing Erin's feeds last night. I really needed the sleep." I frowned, confused, and she arched an eyebrow. "You didn't? Somebody did. There's an empty bottle." "I did it," Josh said unexpectedly as he climbed onto one of the stools at the kitchen counter to put a slice of bread in the toaster. "She was going to cry and I didn't want you to wake up." "Thanks, kiddo." My admiration for him grew. He was barely tall enough to reach the crib, let alone get Erin out. We finished off breakfast and headed out for the morning. Josh and Astrid's Little League games were played one after the other, so they were able to cheer each other on, which Astrid in particular did fanatically, even though Josh got out on second base and got stuck in right field, as always. I knew how the poor kid felt. Astrid was the more athletic of the two of them, but neither of them were really devoted to the game. It was fun, but that was all. I supposed it was a good thing that they weren't taking it too seriously, but it was clear that sport would always take second priority to any sort of academic activity. Scully and I sat a little apart, not saying much, but she with a wistful smile at my running commentary of the games. I wondered if she was thinking back to our first baseball encounter. Things had changed a lot since then, I thought, as I watched Erin in her arms. A lot. A doubt that had been hovering in my mind lately materialised in a question: Was the change for the better? Of course it was. I knew that. But it wasn't something I felt passionately any more. There was still that small element of doubt that I couldn't shake. It made me feel dishonest - I felt that she could see it when she looked at me. See the doubt. We stopped for icecream after the game and then headed home, putting Erin down for a nap while the kids changed out of their grass-stained uniforms. Astrid's squeal of "Duckie!" preceeded the doorbell by half a second. She came flying past and down the hallway to open the door with a flourish. Graham was at the door with Jacqueline. He was a reserved sort of guy but I could understand why the pair of them had clicked despite the age differences - they both thought at lightening speed. Both scientifically and mathematically minded, I'd discovered that any dinnertable conversation would inevitably end up going faster than even Scully or I could follow. They finished each other's sentences, even, and laughed at jokes about such obscure topics that I had no idea what was so funny. He was quiet - I'd never seen him lose his temper, even though once he and Jacqueline had gotten into a fierce political argument and she'd picked his theory apart piece by piece. He'd surrendered with good grace and ten minutes later Scully had found them making out in the kitchen. Yeah, I could understand why the pair of them had clicked. We headed off to the art gallery. Jacqueline and Graham volunteered to let the kids drag them around and left Scully and I with Erin, sleeping soundly in a Snuggli. Scully let me have my arm around her as we moved around the gallery, which I took as a good sign. We talked quietly as we examined the Michelangelo exhibition. She'd taken art in high school and I in college, but our knowledge of techniques had long faded and we spoke in simple terms of likes and dislikes. We wandered around the rest of the gallery, this time she'd slipped her hand in mine and I clutched it tightly, refusing to let go. I threw a few hesitant jokes in her direction and she smiled shyly, hesitantly, in return. It was a far cry from where we'd been months ago and there was still an overhanging tension, but we were, I consoled myself, making some progress. Erin began to whinge and we stopped in the gallery cafe where we were meeting the others for lunch. When they turned up, however, Jacqueline took Erin and the diaperbag and told us Astrid had ruled that we be left alone together for lunch. I was surprised, but touched that Astrid was so concerned. Also scared. I'd tried to downplay the real weight of the problem in my mind but everybody seemed to be telling me that I had to accept that this wasn't just a small rift. "They're subtle, aren't they?" Scully murmured as Jacqueline walked off, cooing to Erin. "But I guess at least we know they care." I was wondering whether that was an intentional insult when, flustered, she added, "I didn't mean that how it sounded." She breathed a heavy sigh, rubbing her neck. "I hate walking on eggshells." "Me too," I agreed readily. She sighed again. "What went wrong, Mulder?" I considered the question, then shrugged helplessly. "I don't know." She drew a deep breath and her voice hitched. "I miss you so much," she whispered, staring at me for a few brief, agonised seconds before looking away. She looked around - at anything but me as she continued, her voice breaking, "I just don't know how to handle things anymore. I don't." "Me neither," I admitted. The words caught in my throat. Catching sight of a grassed courtyard outside the cafe I stood abruptly and grabbed Scully's hand. "Let's get some air, huh?" The courtyard contained more cafe tables, these empty in the chilling wind, and a series of abstract sculptures. It was contained by a low stone wall and several fir trees, and beyond was a large neatly-mown lawn. Somehow it reminded me of Oxford. I led Scully over to amongst the trees, pulling her close against me and sliding my hands up to cup her cheeks, brushing the tears that slid down away with my thumbs. She half-smiled. I held her gaze for several seconds. "I want to kiss you," I whispered. "Now." She stared at me, her expression guarded and wary. But she didn't pull away. I bent to kiss her, not with the casual, unchallenged possession of the past few years but with tender hesitation, the way things had been between us for our first six years. I could feel her shaking in my arms. "I'm not sure we should be doing this," she said uncertainly as I pulled away. "We need to do this," I assured her. "Not here," she protested. Again, her forehead was creased in a frown and she looked lost, scared. "Yes, here." I was desperate to comfort her, running my hands up and down her arms, touching her gently, wanting to kiss away the fear and doubt in her eyes. "Just between us. Just us." She nodded, closing her eyes briefly. "Just us," she agreed quietly. I kissed her. "I love you as much as ever. You know that." "I know that," she murmured. I caressed her hair, her cheeks, feeling a warmth and connection between us that had been absent the past week or so. I kissed her again, and this time she responded, her mouth coming alive under mine. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - Things were getting better, I felt. As we stood together there was something of the old 'us' there, something that hadn't been there for a while now. It had slipped away before we even noticed. "I know," I pressed my forehead against his, running my fingertips over his stubbled cheeks, "that I'm a mass of insecurities lately. Yesterday in particular -" He put a finger to my lips. "Yesterday was a mess. I was a mess, you were a mess. But we're okay now." I felt my spirits fall. Just as I'd thought we were getting somewhere... "Mulder... We're not okay now. It's not just yesterday. We haven't been okay in a while. And it's not something we can fix in a day, either." He frowned, pulling away from me a little. "I don't understand. We're okay now." I slid out of his grip, moving back so I could look at him more levelly. "This isn't just a surface wound. I know maybe I was a little overemotional yesterday but there's still truth in it. This runs deep. We can't just kiss and make up. It's foolish to think that." I paused, searching for the light of understanding in his eyes. "I think you know that." He was the psychologist. How could he not recognise these things? He was shifting from foot to foot and I could see the frustration and anger and hurt building in him. "Then what do we do, Scully?" It was my turn to answer "I don't know." He scowled. "That doesn't help, you know." "I'm sorry, but I can't do anything better." My frustration rose to the verge of an outburst and I froze Mulder with a look before I lost my temper. "I'm going inside. Erin should be just about ready for a feed." - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - JACQUELINE POV - "Aren't you two getting a little old to make out in the garden? Astrid said that if that's the new lovers' nook, Graham and I should -" I bit my tongue as I saw Dana's stormy face, wincing at my bad timing. She looked angry as hell but I could see in her eyes that it was hurt as much as anything else. Her lips set at my comment. "Where's Erin?" she asked tightly. She was possibly the most tense I'd ever seen her, and that was saying something. Her eyes flickered over Josh who sat at a cafe table behind me, eyes down as he sucked chocolate milkshake up through a straw, but immediately returned to me. "She's with Astrid," I said quietly, trying to be calm in hope that she'd follow my example. "Erin needed a diaper change and Astrid dragged Graham off to the parents' room to show him how it's done." I wanted to smile as I said his name but repressed it. It was heartbreakingly adorable, seeing him with the kids. I turned as I heard familiar footsteps. They were returning, Astrid swinging the diaper bag as she skipped beside Graham. He held Erin in his arms as though she were his own, glancing down at her with a goofy grin. I'd never seen him so animated. He smiled broadly when he met my eyes but I gestured slightly toward Dana. He understood, his expression sobering, and passed the baby to Dana. Erin, wide awake, bleated in protest as Dana took her, handling her impatiently. The Little Princess, as she was otherwise known, was used to being the centre of attention and having cooing faces smiling down on her. Dana's irritability rarely showed with the kids, particularly the baby. This was bad. Astrid opened her mouth to make a protest but then shut it again wisely, grabbing Graham's hand and pulling him toward the cafe table where Josh had been watching the proceedings with a silent frown. I was wondering where Fox was when I saw him hovering in the doorway that opened to the courtyard, slipping through and slowly approaching the table where the kids sat, only a few feet away from us. Dana was struggling with the strap of the diaper bag she'd confiscated from Astrid and silently I untangled it for her. She murmured thanks and then stood, staring at me, drawing quiet, irregular breaths. Erin had begun to fuss in her arms and she shifted her grip on the baby. "I'm going to find a quiet corner to feed her," she said expressionlessly. "You're right with -?" she gestured to Astrid and Josh and then stiffened when she saw Fox seating himself next to Josh at the table, picking at the salad that Astrid had ordered and only half-eaten. I smiled sadly as I watched how Astrid kept asking Graham questions, as though deliberately keeping his attention, afraid it would stray to Fox or Dana and I. I knew he was curious about Dana and Fox - he was curious about them in the same way I had always been. He possessed a lot of tact and awareness and yet, conversely, an insatiable curiosity. Astrid knew that. She was protecting Fox and Dana from it. "I'll come with you," was all that I said. "I need to be alone right now," was her immediate response. I could tell she wouldn't be able to keep the tears at bay much longer. She was trying to keep her voice down so Fox and the others wouldn't hear and it trembled. "No you don't." I was certain about that. I'd learned enough about Dana to know what she talked herself into when given solitude. That wouldn't help in this situation. She began to protest but then sighed shakily, nodding her head in acquiescence. We headed out into the courtyard, in the opposite direction to where she and Fox had been before, and settled on the low stone fence facing the wide, empty lawn. Trees lined the perimeter of the lawn and the city skyline could be seen in the distance in a haze of pollution. Despite the vast emptiness before us, I felt that this place was private, protected. I knew why Dana, whose Dad had brought her to the art gallery as a special treat in her childhood, had led me here. There was an odd sense of surrealism, detatchment from the world. It was almost too still, too peaceful. Just us and the birds. I wished Fox was out there with Dana instead of me. They needed a private world such as this badly. Dana shifted the still-fussing infant in her arms and began to unbutton her shirt. Within seconds the whimpers and cries of disapproval ceased and were replaced with noisy, eager sucking. I watched as Dana nursed her daughter, seeing the tears that filled her eyes and the pained smile as she held Erin, as if it were so beautiful it was agonising. When was the last time I'd seen a smile that touched her eyes, I wondered? I felt tremendous empathy for her - empathy she'd once felt for me. I didn't know how to help her. "Tell me," I said softly. She looked up at me, surprised, as if she'd forgotten I was there, and bit her lip. "About Mulder?" I nodded, though I would have nodded to whatever she'd said. Getting her to talk, no matter what the topic, was the most important thing. I wanted to hear what was on her mind. And I knew she wanted to tell somebody. I was somebody. "He's got such a beautiful mind," she said finally. Her eyes were still filled with tears and as she stared down at Erin, a tear escaped from one eye, sliding down her cheek and landing with a splash on Erin's jumpsuit. "Such a beautiful, brilliant mind," she repeated wistfully, seeming to have not noticed. I knew she was going somewhere with it and I waited patiently as she wrapped her mind around what she wanted to say. "That was what I fell in love with." Her voice shook, yet she seemed detatched as she recounted the facts. "It was never about looks, or sex... It was about our minds. Everything else was because of that." "I understand that," I said quietly. That was why the fact that I was seventeen years younger than Graham didn't matter. Why it didn't matter that he already had three grey hairs and I wasn't legally old enough to drink. Dana nodded, as if dismissing my response. I knew she didn't mean it as a slight, though - she was just struggling with her own thoughts and words. "That's the problem," she said finally. "I don't know his mind any more. We're too caught up in day to day life for me to even see it." She paused. "I can remember how it used to feel when we worked together, and it doesn't feel like that any more. I don't feel as good inside as I used to. I don't feel as loved." She paused again, this time looking at me, shaking her head as though lost. "That's not how it's supposed to be." "No, it's not," I agreed softly. "So, what do we do about it?" She looked at me directly as if somehow I should know the answer and I felt terrible as I shrugged, shaking my head. "I don't know the answer to that, Dana. As I said... it's your marriage, not mine." I sighed. "Dana, your sickness didn't help the situation. Maybe it's only temporary. Maybe once you get back to work and spend the time together you'll rediscover that closeness." I tried to sound confident even though I felt that my words of advice weren't particularly helpful. I knew that I was only repeating what she must have thought a thousand times. "We've had problems before," she admitted. "But not recently. Not since we got married. And they were all... they were just all so silly, before. Jealousy. He kept ditching me and I was mad. This is a whole other ball game." I couldn't deny it so instead I just shrugged. There was silence between us for a few minutes as I searched for something to say, something which wouldn't cheapen what she'd said. Dana decided for me. "What's happening with you and Graham these days?" she asked suddenly. I would have burst into song if it wouldn't have been so insensitive. Instead, I nodded slowly, admitting, "We're doing okay." She stared at me, brow puckered a little. "How serious are you guys?" I didn't really know the answer. It was all relative, wasn't it? "Pretty serious, I guess. We're pretty much living together." "Oh." Dana looked a little surprised. "You're sleeping with him." Well, yeah... "So?" She half-shrugged. "It's just -" "Not what you were doing when you were eighteen?" "Something like that," she agreed slowly. "But I guess you're doing a lot of things I never did when I was eighteen. When did you and he first -?" She looked curious, concerned. I smiled, my eyes setting on the baby in her arms. "The night Erin was born. Fox rang me... Graham answered and woke me up. Fox didn't tell you?" "No," the frown deepened pensively. "I guess he thought you knew," I half-shrugged. "He probably didn't even noticed. He was pretty psyched about the birth." I saw the small smile that flitted across her face, a secret satisfied light in her eyes. I knew why. The labor had been so intense and their relationship at it's strongest, the devotion between them incredible. They'd clung to each other as they held Erin for the first time, oblivious to the tears of relief and joy. I'd seen pure happiness in Fox's face - no demons, no ghosts, no blinding obsession, just sheer joy. "Jacqui?" I realised I'd zoned out. "Mmmmh?" "I asked if you had any wedding plans yet?" She was entirely serious but it sounded so strange, that question in relation to me, that I almost laughed, settling for a short chuckle. "No. Happy being just engaged." I couldn't help the grin. "Does he know yet?" My grin faded at the question. "No." No, I hadn't yet found the guts to tell him that I was only eighteen, not twenty-three. No, I hadn't told him yet that I was actually Astrid and Josh's older sister, not just a family friend. No, I hadn't yet told him that I'd killed my parents because they were the heartless Frankenstein scientists of a b-grade horror movie. I wasn't prepared to reveal my life's more soap operatic elements. She stared out at the lawn, frowning. "You have to tell him sometime, you know." "I know." "And the sooner the better. It'll only hurt more if you drag it out longer." "I know." Those words were bitter. I thought of what I'd been chewing over in my mind the past few days and considered whether to voice it or now. Finally I spoke up. "I want to have kids with him, Dana. Soon." She looked at me, so surprised that I chuckled nervously. "I know you think I'm too young, that I'm still a kid, but... I feel ready for it, Dana. Cate was only twenty when I was born, only seventeen when she first got pregnant. I guess it's a genetic predisposition or something... I really feel ready.I want it. And I know he wants kids, too. I've seen him with Josh and Astrid and Erin." "Have you talked to him about it, yet?" I shook my head reluctantly. "Not really." Dana smiled wryly. "That might be an idea." She looked at me long and hard. "You need to put a lot of thought into it, Jacqueline. You both do. It's a big thing." She buttoned her shirt up again and managed to get a towel in place before Erin spit up on her shoulder. "I don't think Mulder and I even realised how big it is." I knew that. I'd watched them together in the hospital, the first day they went home, helped Dana out over the weeks, dealt with Fox's insecurities. It was another complication in their already complex lives, an added stress that looked like it was going to be their undoing. Dana was stressed and depressed and that only distanced Fox from her. "I've raised two kids already," I reminded her. "I was only eleven when Astrid was born." Again, the frown. "It's different when you're in a relationship. More complicated." She paused. "You've got a lot more to lose." That rocked me. Did I have a lot to lose? I had Graham. But, in all honesty, how important was he to me? As much as I wished, I knew that my relationship with him was a shadow when compared to Dana and Fox's. Was it me? Did I lack the ability to experience emotions and form bonds on the same level that Dana and Fox did? I wished desperately that it wasn't so. I envied their bond, even now. But they'd suffered uncountable times to become that close, I knew. They'd worked for it. Would I stick by him through such horrors? Would he stick by me? I couldn't be certain. "Scully?" We both turned as Fox spoke. Dana turned back to face me and her eyes met mine pleadingly. 'What should I do?' they were asking. I half shrugged, honestly at a loss. 'I don't know'. I couldn't help her. I held out my arms and took the baby, slinging the diaperbag over my other shoulder. "I'll leave you two alone," I announced quietly, feeling it was more politically correct to state the obvious than to just run away. I felt terrible leaving Dana right then, but I couldn't have stayed. It was between them, nothing to do with me. I'd been stuck in one or two of their arguments before and it hadn't been pleasant. Nevertheless, I slowed down, not wanting to leave them completely. I reached a leafy young tree planted in the courtyard, pulling off a leaf and tickling Erin with it. She gave me a wide, gummy grin. We were partially hidden by the tree but just still in hearing range and, as I paused, I couldn't help straining to eavesdrop. What I heard, however, was far from encouraging. "Mulder, I don't know if I can cope with this right now..." "Can't you at least listen to what I want to say?" "Mulder -" "Damnit, Scully. I'm just trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with you." "Me? Why is this my fault?" "It's... it's not. We're both responsible for what's happened. But-" "Can we just quit arguing over who's responsible and go inside? It's not getting us anywhere and I'm getting cold." "We have to address this." Pause. "We need to take some time away." "Why, so we can spend it arguing? Mulder, the last thing we need is time alone together. We're just making it hell for each other." "It doesn't have to be like that. I know you miss it too, Scully." "Miss what?" "Us. When I used to touch your hand and it would be a big deal to us." Pause. Quieter. "These days you just flinch." Long silence. "Mulder, I'm coming back to work on Monday. I don't think -" "We need a break from work. From everything. Just you and me." "What about the kids?" "We'll leave them with your mom." "Mom's not well at the moment. You know that. No way she can handle all three of them." "So we'll leave them with Jacqueline. She's great with them." "No." Forceful. "I don't want to leave them with her." "Why not?" "I don't want to leave them with anybody. I don't want to leave them, period." "Scully, even if it's just overnight -" "And then we come back to all this and we're no better off than we are now!" Exasperated. "We won't be." Certain. "How can you tell?" "Scully..." "Let's just go back to work." "What if things don't get any better?" "That's not going to happen." Silence. "I don't want this to turn into another fight, Mulder. I'm tired of fighting." Long pause. "Me too." They both sounded tired and weary but young, scared. Not wanting to hear any more, I headed back into the cafe. It was a lot warmer in there - too warm. I felt flushed after being outside, and also wondered if it had anything to do with Dana's refusal to leave the kids with me. She'd been immediately and utterly determined. From our conversation I'd been sure that she trusted me with the kids. Had it just been another excuse she'd used or was she genuinely doubting me? I struggled with the question as I found the others and we waited for Dana and Fox, as we all pretended that Dana's eyes weren't red from crying and Fox's didn't looked bloodshot either, while Graham and I drove home and I spent the afternoon surfing the internet looking for couples retreats and almost signing Dana and Fox up for a dozen of them, that night while Graham lay beside me after we'd made love. Sleep was slow to come that night. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - I didn't know where I should sleep that night. The couch would have screamed 'We're fighting' to the kids and 'I give up' to Scully, but the idea of climbing into bed beside her as if our screaming match hadn't happened made me feel dishonest and awkward. How the hell had things gotten so bad? Scully had been holding herself together better than I had since we got home. It had been a while since I'd cried like that, which might have been the reason why Scully and I had called a silent truce and allowed ourselves to take comfort in a hug. We were both exhausted about fighting over whose fault it was that we were fighting, and when we stopped yelling at each other long enough to realise we were both in tears it was enough to bring us to our senses. Neither of us are the sort that cry easily - I think I probably cry more than Scully, but we both have a tough image to uphold. But just the sheer horror at what we'd done to our beautiful partnership and to each other was enough to bring us both to tears. And it was in front of each other, taking refuge silently in each other, not alone as it had often been in the past. To anybody watching it would have seemed odd, seeing us yelling at each other, both defensive and angry and scared over what we were doing, not wanting to hurt the other but so hurt ourselves that it seemed only fair, and then suddenly stopping, staring at each other, seeing for the first time the tears and grief and then, slowly, hesitantly, opened our arms to each other, fitting together as we had always fitted together, her head tucked under my chin. We stayed like that for who knows how long, my tears falling on her hair and hers wetting my jacket, mourning the fact that we, the pair who could face anything, had been transformed into monsters by the strain of modern living. It was almost laughable. Almost. It was only another quick fix, of course. The awkwardness and distrust and tension was still there as we drove home. Scully tiredly ordered Astrid to do her assignment and, after a single protest, Astrid agreed, lugging my laptop off to their bedroom. Josh disappeared into his cave of a bed with his dinosaur toys. Erin sat in her bouncer and her piercing blue eyes - Scully's eyes - followed me around as I made dinner. Over the last week I'd ended up doing a majority of the housework and this task, it seemed, had stuck. Scully had borrowed my stack of case folders and disappeared into our bedroom with them. Later, after our quiet dinner and after I'd swept up the mess from the plate broken as Astrid and Josh washed up, I stepped into our bedroom with hackles up, prepared for another terrible confrontation, not knowing if I was up to coping with it if it were anywhere near as wracking as before. The TV, unremoved from the dresser, was on, but they weren't watching it. Astrid sat next to Scully on the bed, Erin asleep in Scully's arms, and the two were working their way through a tub of ice-cream. Scully looked almost relaxed, which was relief for my troubled mind. I'd been having sneaking suspicions of post-natal depression, and while I hadn't dared suggest the idea to Scully, the difficulties this afternoon had only seemed to add weight to my theory. I knew she thought she could handle it - what was an infant when compared with shadowy government plots and star wars between alien races? She was adept at caring for Erin, dealt with the messes that came out of both ends with unfazed professionalism. She was, after all, a doctor. But even with Kathy and Jacqueline and I helping, how much could she deal with? A baby crying through the night, kids to be sent off to school, and then a full working-day? No wonder she'd gotten sick. I was trying to help, trying to keep the duties equal, but it just seemed that there were so many things only she could do. She took on the responsibilities without complaint, although sometimes I saw her struggling, saw the private moments of despair when Erin just wouldn't stop crying. If only, I mused, depressed, our relationship wasn't so tense, so uncertain. I didn't want to offer my support while there was such a chance it would be rejected, such a chance that it would somehow leave me vulnerable to another emotional battering. I transferred my attention to Astrid. She was discussing her school's team's latest Odyssey of the Mind challenge, to make a solar-powered creature which could carry out a series of tasks. I'd seen, on occasions, how Astrid could drop her childishness at the flick of a switch, and now was such an occasion that proved why she was learning about calculus and studying Shakespeare, not back in elementary school learning multiplication. She talked with offhand, yet precise details, reciting long lists and explaining complex rules. Her natural enthusiasm was still there, but I could see the startling similarities between she and Jacqueline. I was standing in the doorway watching them, and Astrid, who had been oblivious to me, suddenly noticed my presence and flew at me. "Daddy!" The switch had been flicked again - she was bounding around childishly, rambling on technically but with more giggles and digressions than before. Did she think she had to remain childish around me, I wondered? Or was it simply a way to ease the tension between Scully and I? I hoped the latter. It was bad enough that Scully always felt she had to hide things from me, but Astrid as well... I kicked myself for the comment. That was utterly unfair to Scully. Only rarely over the past few years had we had problems with her hiding her emotions - we were more open than we had been in the past. Scully told her to ease off the bouncing, she'd wake Erin, and Astrid immediately stopped, kissing all three of us goodnight before grabbing the tub of ice-cream and dashing out. The silence between us immediately was... loud. We stared at each other awkwardly, then Scully awkwardly climbed off the bed, moving over to the crib and putting Erin down for the night, switching on the Aquarium-nightlight and rearranging the dozen or so small teddy bears and other stuffed creatures who squeaked when squeezed - or trodden on, as I'd discovered during one 4a.m. feed. She stood at the crib for a moment, hands resting on the railings, and sighed. I snuck up behind her, slipping my arms around her waist. "We need a bigger place," I murmured, looking around. I'd thought it was a reasonably safe opening remark but I was wrong. She'd been tense in my grip at first and then she stiffened even more. "We can't afford a bigger place, Mulder. You know that." "We've got the money from selling my mom's place, still half left from my dad's." "Mulder, we agreed we didn't want to spend that money. It's -" She stopped, but the unspoken words hung in the air. Dirty money. We both hated that money because it had come from *them* - not the state department who he said he worked for, but those who had been behind it all. Those who had caused her abduction and cancer and created Emily. We hated that money. But we could sure use it. And hell, did it really matter where the money came from? It was ours, and we needed it. We'd be crazy not to take it. "I don't want-" She paused. "I don't want to have this conversation right now. Today has been long enough." And with that, she squirmed out of my grip and left the room. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - Somehow Sunday was less painful than Saturday had been; the tension seemed to have eased a little, the situation less complicated with only family. But things were still awkward. Astrid and I headed off to morning Mass, leaving Mulder and Josh to take care of Erin, and when we returned home we found Mulder and Erin asleep on the couch, football commentary blaring on the TV. His hand rested lightly on her back as she slept on his chest. I didn't wake them - I knew Mulder had gotten little sleep the night before, and it was altogether too sweet a scene to disturb. It was momentary peace for my anxious soul. Josh we found painstakingly gluing together a model ship, working at the small desk in their bedroom. He had incredible patience and it wasn't rare for him to dedicate hours each day to the construction of such a tiny object. They were displayed proudly on the bedroom shelves, a neat, symmetrical array, all perfectly aligned. Josh was a perfectionist. Astrid settled back down to her assignment and, having nothing else to do, I picked up the folders I'd browsed through the night before and considered the cases Mulder had picked up over the last few days. I felt guilty about my absence and that I owed it to him to catch up to him. The last thing I wanted was to frustrate him by lagging in case knowledge. Erin woke and Mulder, disoriented, dragged himself upright and approached the kitchen table where I sat, staring at me as alertness dawned in his sleepy eyes. He held Erin tightly in his arms, almost as a shield protecting him from me. How terrible, I thought, that we'd come to this. "Sit down," I said quietly. He nodded, silently drawing out a chair and sitting, careful of Erin's kicking jumpsuited legs. She was staring up at him with wide eyes and he smiled down at her. "Hey, Monkey." That was his nickname for her. Typical Mulder, I thought. No 'darling' or 'sweetheart' or 'princess' for him. Monkey. She gurgled at him, waving an arm in the air, and he smiled down at her for a few minutes, talking to her, letting her gum his thumb. I felt a surge of affection for him. "So, I guess we have to talk about it all, huh?" The affection faded as he spoke, his eyes meeting mine. "Do we have to?" I gave him the ghost of a smile. "We don't seem to be able to do it without arguing." He looked at me speculatively for a few moments, then his eyes traveled to the clock behind me. "Well, it's just past one. We've got about nine hours to fill, and that's just today. I think we're going to have to say something to each other. And it might as well be sooner rather than later." "Can't postpone the inevitable," I murmured in agreement. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - We stared at each other, neither sure who was going to take the first step and say something. I don't think either of us wanted to. I didn't know what to say, that was for certain. And I didn't want more tears or anger. I just wanted to pull her into my arms and reassure us both that everything was going to be okay. But I knew that wouldn't solve everything. It would be just another quick fix. We needed to fix the real damage. "Maybe we should see a counsellor," I offered hesitantly. "You know, a... a marriage counsellor." She smiled at me wryly and without humour. "We're that bad, you think?" "I guess we'd be stupid to deny it." I looked down at Erin and she stared right back at me. It was like there was an intruder in our conversation and, more than anything else, I felt sorry for the poor kid. I felt sorry for all of them. I knew Josh in particular was taking it hard. "Your parents never fought, did they?" She shook her head. "No. Never." Then she paused and re-evaluated. "Well, I guess they did... but we never saw it. They kept it away from us." "You were lucky," I said morosely. Again, I looked down at my innocent, wide-eyed daughter. She was chewing on her knuckles, but couldn't do any damage, I knew. It would be a different story when she got some teeth. "It's tough being a kid in that situation. And my parents didn't even try to keep it from me. I was right in the middle." I didn't want sympathy but it radiated off her in waves. "I'm sorry, Mulder." Her face contorted for a moment and she looked anguished. "I don't want to hurt the kids." "Me neither," I said flatly, maybe a little defensively. My relationship with my parents had been strained and awkward at best. I didn't want that to happen with my kids. They deserved better than that. I didn't even want to consider the idea that I was becoming my father. Her voice was shaky as she said, "You know, statistics say that after a relationship goes through something like this, it has only a small chance of surviving." She paused, then asked with that directness I've always loved and feared, "Are we going to survive this, Mulder?" "Yes." I spoke with a certainty I didn't feel. I felt dread that we belonged to the large percentage of failed relationships. Because whatever it was that we'd always had between us had disappeared without a trace. She stared at me, gauging my honesty, then sighed, turning away. I reached out and grabbed her arm as she passed me, rising from my seat, my other arm still firmly around Erin. I stared at her, seeing nothing familiar in her eyes. "I've really lost you, haven't I?" I realised, shocked. She frowned and then her expression softened. She looked wistful, disappointed. "You haven't lost me, Mulder. I'm still here. We've just... lost touch." I tightened my grip on her arm in a sort of mad desperation. As she tried to pull away it was almost as if, with her, everything was slipping away from me. The life she'd help me establish. "I have never had so much respect and love for a person, Scully. You know that. I've told you a hundred times -" Silently, she placed her hand on mine, her tear-filled eyes looking at me with a resigned sympathy. "I know, Mulder. But it's not love that's the problem. It's about being content. It's time, committment, sharing..." She paused, then said suddenly, staring at the baby in my arms, "I still remember the first time you saw her. I'll never forget the expression on your face." Her voice, still resigned, had softened. "I'd never felt closer to you than I did then." I nodded, unable to voice the hellish desperation - the need - that I felt to recapture that closeness. I found her hand and gripped it, squeezed it, wanting to embrace her, to make love to her, but remembering absurdly the baby I still held, forgotten, in my arms. "Astrid," I called suddenly, not taking my eyes from Scully's face, not loosening my grip. "What?" Only when Astrid spoke did I turn. She sounded cross. I didn't know whether she was still angry at me. In the little sleep I'd managed last night, I'd had one of the old dreams about Samantha. Her name had slipped out that morning as Scully and Astrid were getting ready for church. Astrid had knocked into me, spilling hair glitter over me, and I'd let out a short cry of "Watch it, Sam!" She'd simply stared at me, frowning. She knew all about Samantha. "Take Erin for me, will you?" I passed her the infant without waiting for a response. She took her calmly, staring at me analytically, then bounded off, younger sister in arms. My elbow popped as I reached to grab Scully's other hand but I ignored it, rubbing my thumbs over her hands in mine. "We're going to survive this, Scully." She stared at me levelly but didn't respond. My grip on her slackened a little when I saw the doubt in her eyes. "You don't think we're going to make it, do you?" I felt all security and certainties take a nosedive, but then something, I don't know what, sent a rush of adrenalin through my veins. "We will, Scully. I know we will." I was determined. "And I'll prove it to you." - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - Before I knew what was going on he'd told the kids we were going out. Where we were going, I didn't know. But I understood what he was doing. He was trying to refamiliarise ourselves with the way things had been. What he didn't understand was that our relationship had changed, over even just the past few weeks, and we no longer fitted the old mould. We needed to accommodate the change, let our relationship evolve as we had evolved. Because we'd kept changing and our relationship had been at a standstill. We were out of sync, and that was bad. I wasn't too keen on leaving Astrid and Josh to look after Erin; it felt incredibly irresponsible, but Mulder promised me that they could handle it for a few hours and dragged me out the door. It was only when we were sitting in the car, key in the ignition, when he asked, "So, where are we going?" "Where are we going?" I tried hard not to get mad, but after being hurried out of the house and feeling bullied, it was hard not to. "On our date." He kept a deadpan face but I could tell he was nervous, scared this wasn't going to work out. "Our date?" I echoed. I had an inkling of what he was playing at and I didn't know whether to think it was a valid idea or a waste of time. "Our date," he confirmed. He must have sensed my reluctance to go along with the game because he looked at me pleadingly. "Come on, Scully. Give me a chance?" - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - Neither of us had eaten any lunch and, although I doubted I was capable of stomaching food, I agreed when she suggested we go to a cafe. We sat on opposite sides of the round table. The waitress came and took our orders. It was as she left again that Scully did something surprising. She reached across the table and placed her hands over mine as I fidgeted with the salt and pepper shakers. "Scully-" I felt my stomach churning at the contact. She put a finger to my lips. "No talking. We're just going to sit here, like this." I stared straight into her eyes and nodded almost unconsciously. Her gaze had taken me back to the old days, the days when we looked at each other with honesty and respect and loyalty. I'd almost forgotten what that look was. We sat like that until the waitress returned with our food. I jolted, nearly spilling my soda, and feeling a little awkward, wondering how long we'd been staring at each other. I'd completely tuned out. But Scully's quick glance up at me as she drew her plate closer and blew on her coffee was reassuring, calming. And with that glance I didn't care how much of a fool I'd looked. Things seemed better after that. We talked about trivial matters, I updated her on work... we both seemed to consciously steer clear of discussing the kids. It wasn't that we wanted to deny their existence or our responsibility, but simply that they didn't fit into the game. The game was about the pair of us and the pair of us alone. We finished lunch and I suggested a movie - something to keep us out of the house and together, but Scully demurred, insisting on ringing home to check on the kids. "We can't ignore our responsibilities, Mulder," she murmured, looking at me with troubled eyes. I think the fact that they were *our* responsibilities and we had to handle them together was a problem to her - we no longer stuck together out of choice but out of shared responsibility. That was something neither of us were happy about. She was right, I knew, and I didn't want to argue. Still, I hadn't wanted to be reminded of that fact. Astrid admitted - after some hard questioning on Scully's behalf - that Erin had a slight temperature, and she thought maybe it was another earache coming on. Selfishly, I wished we could leave Astrid to deal with it, but I knew deep down we had to give up the carefree act and get back to business. Back to committments. As we prepared to leave the cafe Scully did something else that surprised me. She rose from her seat and pulled me to my feet, lacing her fingers between my own. "Thank you for this," she said softly, standing on tiptoe to brush her lips across mine. As we left the cafe I vowed to make a renewed effort to win this struggle, to make our relationship about more than just shared responsibility once more. I was going to pull myself out of the selfish rut and treat her with the attention she deserved. What I didn't realise was that that much attention was more than she could handle. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - I was being snippy, I knew. I just couldn't help it. All morning Mulder and I had been getting on each other's nerves. The case we'd put first priority was a series of deaths, four young women at decreasing intervals over the past twelve months whose hearts had exploded in their chests for no attainable reason. Mulder had formed a loose theory about black magic by a scorned lover.I voiced that I was keeping an open mind but that my theories tended toward poisoning of some kind. Ritual killings, perhaps. I knew my more scientific theories were weak but it was the best I could come up with. All I could honestly think of was Phillip Padgett. Our conflicting theories led to arguments instead of discussions. And yes, I was being snippy. I wasn't going to deny it. But Mulder... The night before and in the morning he'd been hovering around me protectively, agreeing with me about everything with puppylike eagerness, making an almost painful attempt to be deferential. Being wrapped in cotton wool has never appealed to me and I had pushed him away, telling him not to coddle me. Now he was being insensitive, brushing me off, ignoring me, treating my ideas negatively. This affrontation was the natural reaction to my chiding his overattentiveness, I supposed. Nevertheless, it hurt. We were at the most recent crime scene, a sunny backyard patio in an upperclass Maryland suburb, when Mulder's phone rang and Skinner passed along the message that they'd just found another victim. The rest of the day we spent at the new crime scene and then in the autopsy bay. I had the 'honor', as Mulder termed it, of doing the autopsy, and I went through the motions of cutting, weighing and examining almost on autopilot. The tension between us was tiring and I felt numb - which was probably a good thing, because cases like this where the victims were women sometimes got to me. The last thing we needed right then was more psychological barriers. It was just past nine when I got home. Mulder had headed home earlier and collected takeout for dinner and the empty containers were scattered around the kitchen. I accidently knocked one to the floor as I brushed past it, and kicked it with a frustrated growl. Seeing the crime scene photos spread across the kitchen table I made a mental note to yell at Mulder for leaving them out for the kids to see. Josh got nightmares from seeing *Elmo* in pain, for crying out loud. Erin, sitting in her bouncer on the kitchen counter, gave a plaintive cry when she saw me. I dropped my bag on the floor and picked her up, patting Astrid on the head as she sat at the counter, concentrating on her homework, before going in search of Mulder. He was in the kids' room, kneeling beside Josh's bed. Josh had the lower bunk, and he had hung old blankets around the frame, concealing his bed. He liked to hide. Astrid had followed me in and Mulder turned to look at us both. Grimly, he turned back. "Josh, Mom's home." The blankets parted and Josh peeked out hesitantly, looking slowly from me to Mulder and back again. What was wrong now, I wondered? Josh was incredibly sensitive, we knew that. He didn't cope well under emotional pressure. I wondered what the tension and fighting between Mulder and I was doing to him. I'd never heard my parents fight. I could only imagine how frightening it would be. Unhappy eyes stared at me, then Josh withdrew, the gap in the curtain closing again. I sighed, shifting Erin in my arms. My muscles were dead tired and she felt very heavy. Mulder stood, brushing off his knees. "You look exhausted." The lie came before I even considered the truth. "I'm fine." Of course I was exhausted. I still wasn't feeling one hundred percent and although my illness had given me a break from my hectic life, being thrown back into it full-force was almost worse than before. Erin had slept no longer than an hour at a time last night, had thrown up all over me after the morning feed, had been whimpering and squealing and screaming at the top of her lungs. It was always I who tended to her - Mulder just slept right through it. It's hard, Mulder, I wanted to say. It's so damned hard and I just don't know how much longer I can handle it... But I couldn't say that. I wouldn't let myself admit to him I wasn't coping. I'd never been able to admit such a thing to him. He nodded slowly, chewing on his lower lip. "You go have a shower. It's been a long day." All days lately had been long, I thought silently as I nodded. He took Erin from my arms and I felt a dull satisfaction as I saw the new confidence with which he held her. I ended up drawing a bath and almost fell asleep in the scented water. I didn't even say anything to Mulder as I crept into bed beside him. I hadn't had dinner but I wasn't hungry. I was too exhausted to be hungry. I slept. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - It wasn't nearly as intangible as many of the cases that had passed through our office in the past, but somehow even with the copious evidence and information we were making slow progress. Scully and I sat for over an hour going over the case files with a fine tooth comb, jotting down any facts that stood out. We didn't speak much as we worked but the silence wasn't as fraught with tension as it had been recently. There was just... nothingness. No affection. Just brisk professionalism that I knew was betrayal to our true feelings. But to do about it... I didn't know. We reviewed the autospy results of the five victims and hypothesised over the still unexplained manner of death - the fact that all the victims' hearts had exploded, still in their chests. A deep frown marred Scully's forehead as she stared unspeakingly at the autopsy photos, and I knew that her mind was going around and around like a mouse in a wheel as she tried to scientifically justify it. Because there was no science to it. It hadn't been a stroke or a heart attack - the surrounding organs and tissue would have revealed that. What it seemed was simply that their hearts had physically exploded, like a bomb, with no evidence of how it was done. We were at a dead end. "It has to be some kind of witchcraft. Black magic." I didn't reel off the long lists as I usually relished doing. This suggestion wasn't smug or cocky. I didn't want to be working on this case and I didn't have the energy to hide the fact. I was sitting at my desk and swung idly around. One way and then the other, and then I gave myself a big push and the deskchair swivelled around several times. "Mulder!" At her sharp, reprimanding tone I grabbed the edge of the desk to stop myself. "Sorry," I mumbled, feeling chastised like a child. I watched her as she frowned some more. "I don't like this case, Mulder," she said finally. "What do you mean, you don't like this case?" Her frown deepened. "There's too many similarities. It's as if each murder is a carbon copy of the last." "Or the first," I murmured. My mind flipped into gear. I had a glimpse of something, something that was on the very tip of my tongue. "They had a suspect in the first murder, didn't they?" Scully nodded, flipping through the file. "A Mr Darren Tyler. Twenty two year old plumbing apprentice. The first victim's boyfriend. He was arrested but they couldn't find enough evidence to hold him." She paused, looking at me doubtfully. "You think he's the killer?" "The best place to hide a murder is in a spree of serial killings," I hazarded. "If it were a crime of passion -" "You read Agatha Christies too, huh?" She gave me the ghost of a smile, the frown lines still etched in her forehead. She sighed. "And a crime of passion... it fits. These deaths, Mulder... Hearts exploding... It's strongly symbolic, to say the least. Imagine-" Her voice shook as she stopped abruptly, turning away. I knew what she wanted to say. Imagine if you loved somebody more than the human body was equipped to handle, that your heart was filled with such immense love that it bulged at the seams and then, finally, burst. It was an awe-inspiring idea. The symbolism wasn't lost on me. "But what about the other murders," she continued with renewed strength. "Two of them were call girls. One was a drug addict. The most recent one was an unemployed teacher discharged for theft. They weren't crimes of passion." "They could have been hate crimes," I offered doubtfully. "They weren't radicals or big-time criminals, Mulder. These people weren't remarkable in any way." She was staring down at the case file, tapping her nails on the printed sheets. "I want to investigate the first murder more. I think we need to start from the very beginning." And so, we did. We visited the father of the first victim, a local police detective, and listened as he described his daughter's gentleness and kindness. His voice shook as he described her relationship with her boyfriend, and a real anger showed in his otherwise grief-dulled eyes. It had been almost a year since his daughter had died, but it seemed he hadn't yet moved on. I've never been able to cope with grieving parents particularly well. Maybe I should have been good at it, given the years of experience with my own. Maybe that was why I hated it so much. And now there was another fear - that some day it would be I as a father not I as an FBI agent involved in such a conversation. And that idea scared me beyond all. But the moment I really balked was when he picked up a framed photograph to show us. We had a photo of the victim in our case file but this had been taken more recently, the day before she'd died, and he'd only just found the courage to develop the film. The light was better in this photograph, and I saw something in the young woman that I hadn't seen before. She looked a lot like Scully. It wasn't really the reddish-brown hair and blue eyes. They could have been anyone. It was the shy smile that quirked up the corners of her mouth, the sparkle in the eyes, the tilt of the head. The detective, the sad old man widowed at thirty-five and destroyed fifteen years later, watched Scully as we examined the photo. "You know," he said suddenly, "You -" But then he cut off, shaking his head and pressing his lips shut. "Forget it," he murmured, resigned. I could see the empathy on Scully's face but all I could feel was panic. It was unnerving, the similarities between Scully and a girl now long-dead. And, I reminded myself, my words echoing in my head, the killer was still out there... We thanked him and showed outselves out. The dark, grieving atmosphere of the house had become almost unbearably oppresive and it was an immense relief to be outside in the glare of the sunlight again. We visited Darren Tyler, a semi-inebriated, broken young man, who repeated all the facts we already knew, interspersed with blubbering promises of "I swear, I didn't kill them!I didn't do anything...". He had been in love with Rachel. They'd been in the same biology class at school and started dating in the twelfth grade. They'd been on and off since high school. He'd proposed twice but she'd turned him down. She was too young to be tied down. The story poured out, a story of unrequited puppy love, and as I sat, quietly listening, a politely thoughtful expression in place, I reassessed my first impression. Not just broken, but trampled. The guy looked as if he had taken a psychological beating and had cracked completely under the pressure. He looked as if he were suffering the strain of either guilt or fear. I couldn't decide which. Regardless of that, he seemed to have decided drinking was the solution. I think we were both glad again to escape. Out of the four other victims, only one had a surviving relative we were able to contact. Susan Eldridge, the unemployed and now deceased high school teacher had had a sister, a nurse. We caught up with her at work, a depressingly dreary elderly-care facility with altzheimers patients wandering the halls, calling out piteously for long-dead parents or spouses or siblings. Anna Eldridge looked at us evenly and said bluntly that nobody loved or hated her sister enough to kill her. "She wasn't somebody you could love," she said matter of factly. "Even when we were kids... she didn't care about anybody and nobody cared about her. She wouldn't let them. Maybe she wasn't capable of it. She was always a stranger." It was late afternoon by then and so we headed home, rehashing the day's findings as we drove. We had learned little more, and I couldn't see where we could go next. All we had to go on was the first murder. There was something more definite about it, something more ... alive, somehow. The first victim had been loved, a kind young woman. The world had lost something when that life had been taken. The rest of the victims had been nobodies. Nobody had shed tears for them. We would reinterview the boyfriend of the first victim the next morning, we agreed. Conversation closed, we drove in silence. We picked the kids up from baseball practice. Kathy picked them up from school on Tuesday and took them to piano practice, then took them home briefly before going out again to baseball, lugging Erin along for the ride. Scully felt blessed to have found a nanny willing enough to play taxi driver on top of all her other duties. She was always full of thanks and praise for Kathy for keeping up with the kids' hectic schedules, but I could see the wistfulness in her eyes every time she saw another woman holding our daughter and yelling encouragement to Josh and Astrid. If only we could have it all, I mused unhappily. The job we loved and being there for our kids instead of some stranger. It felt grossly unfair that we had to make such sacrifices. The baby seat, diaperbag and already scraggly teddy bear transferred to our car, we headed home. Scully was driving, so she informed me. I let her, not wanting to create any further conflict between us. Turned out that it wouldn't have made much difference anyway. She seemed determined to pick a fight. "Don't do that." We were at a stop light and I was staring at her, allowing my mind to rest. "Don't do what?" "You look like you're trying to read my mind. Don't do that. Don't profile me." I felt abused by the comment. For once, I *hadn't* been trying to analyse her. "I wasn't -" "Just keep out of my thoughts for a while, okay, Mulder?" She glanced across at me as she shot the comment out, then quickly returned her gaze to the road ahead. She looked flushed. "Fine!" I held my hands up in surrender. She wasn't going to believe my protests anyway. I was going to keep silent but something drove me to ask, "What are you so pissed off about, anyway?" "It's nothing," she said shortly. "Can't you be honest with me, just this once? Humour me, Scully?" I scowled, frustrated, as she was silent. "I don't get you anymore. You're honest with Jacqueline. Why aren't you honest with me?" "Sometimes I just need to step back," she snapped. "I need to breathe." "You don't have to shut me out. You're up and down like a yo-yo, Scully. I don't know what you expect of me. You don't want me to coddle you, but now -" "I don't want you to ignore me, either!" "Is that what this is all about? You think I've been ignoring you?" "Haven't you been?" she hissed. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. She looked uncomfortable, as if she wanted to squirm out of the car and run away. Changing lanes, she glanced in the rear-vision mirrors. Then she winced. "Keep your voice down," she said shakily. The kids were in the back seat, I realised. I'd been completely oblivious to the fact. The world became dangerously small when Scully and I fought. Glancing back, I saw Astrid trying to quieten Erin down. Erin was whinging and Astrid, feeling my eyes on her, looked at me sharply. The fear in her eyes was terrifying. I knew that fear, could remember myself praying desperately that if you kept quiet and still in the back seat Mom and Dad wouldn't notice you were there and they wouldn't take their anger out on you. That if you kept quiet and still you could almost pretend you weren't there at all. There was something else in Astrid's eyes, though - something that I don't think was ever in mine. Reproach. I'd been too scared of my own father to dare meet his eyes with such disapproval. I pulled away, trying to ignore what was almost like a bad taste in my mouth. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Scully swipe at her eyes. I shouldn't have been surprised that she was near tears. She always found it harder to keep them at bay when she was tired, when she was emotionally worn down. I should have been more sensitive. What the hell was wrong with me? I was ignoring her, that was the problem. I reached across gently and put my hand over hers. She pushed me away, eyes on the road ahead. I tried again, and this time she didn't push me away. This time, after a moment's hesitation, her hand relaxed under mine. She glanced across at me, her gaze wary, her eyes hurt, distrusting. She was waiting for me to say something, but I was silent. What could I say that would be able to mend a relationship in a thousand pieces? No single sentence, no small promise, would do. We needed more. It would be an uphill battle, I knew. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - Mr Tyler was co-operative. That was helped greatly by the fact that he was, again, drunk, although he denied it strenuously. The problem was that it wasn't getting us anywhere. His protests of innocence were beginning to get on my nerves - no matter what we asked him, he always managed to end his answer by pleading innocence. I was trying to be sympathetic, because I couldn't deny the fact that maybe he might just be telling the truth. Mulder didn't seem to consider that an option. He seemed to have pinpointed the guy as the suspect and I knew that that was never a good thing. He was getting agitated, and I sat quietly on our side of the table in the interview room as Mulder paced behind me, shooting out questions and accusations. Several times I was on the verge of stopping him, but fear of a confrontation between us held me back. I knew I'd been picking on him unfairly the day before and that it had only made matters worse. Finally Mulder pulled up a chair beside me. Although the agitation appeared to have disappeared and he seemed calm, I knew better. I could see the frustration boiling inside him. I understood. This case wasn't making any more sense to me than it was to him, and problems at work was the last thing we needed on top of everything else. "Tell us about Rachel," he said quietly. Darren Tyler, who had been almost blubbering while under attack by Mulder, looked at us like a terrorised rabbit suddenly offered a carrot. "What do you mean?" "What was she like?" The distrustfulness grew. "Why do you want to know? It doesn't matter what she was like, not anymore. She's gone..." He looked at us pleadingly. "I'd like to go now. Please, just let me go..." He was just a kid. A poor, confused, scared kid. "What was she like?" Mulder repeated, a warning tone in his voice. Tyler looked as though he were near tears again. "She was really smart," he admitted finally, glancing anxiously up at Mulder as if to see if the answer were correct. "She was the sort of girl had had lots of friends. Not in the popular group, but friends with everybody. She loved animals, too. She volunteered at the pound after school, walking the dogs and stuff. Her dad wouldn't let her have a dog." I thought for a terrible moment that Mulder would shout an accusation at him right then. Something like "Then why did you kill her, you sick SOB?!" or some equally NYPD Blue-esque line. He'd done similar in the past. I hated when he did that. He surprised me by asking gently, "What did she look like?" "She -" Tyler looked up and quailed under Mulder's gaze. He swallowed. "She was beautiful." His voice was barely a whisper. "She -" Suddenly he transferred his gaze to me. "You look a lot like her," he said wistfully. My skin chilled. Not because of the resemblance - I'd already dealt with that fact. But because I knew what happened next before it happened. Mulder's fist connected with Tyler's nose in a spray of blood. Tyler fell back, scrambling up off the floor and back on his feet, his hand to his nose. I'd seen Mulder punch a suspect before, but this time I had no intention of turning away. He grabbed Tyler by the collar and slammed him against the wall. "Mulder!" I grabbed his fist as he was about to throw another punch. "Let him go!" "Let me go, Scully!" His eyes were burning with dark, relentless anger. The message was loud and clear: I'm going to kick some sense into this asshole and don't even *think* about getting in my way. "Don't touch him, Mulder. Just let him go." "Please..." Tyler whimpered. His bloody nose had splashed over both his and Mulder's shirts. He was a mess. I heard a sickening dull slap as Mulder hit him. I tightened my grip on Mulder's arm, tugging. "Somebody?" I yelled loudly. I wasn't strong enough to pull him away, I knew. Not when he was so enraged. I knew there'd be consequences of getting somebody else involved but I wasn't just going to watch as Mulder pummeled the life out of a poor kid. "Somebody?!" I yelled again. "Damnit, Mulder. Let him go." But he wasn't listening to me. He was too busy ranting, trying to bully Tyler into confessing to the murders by kicking the crap out of him. I'd seen outbursts before, but I'd never seen him this out of control. I was scared. Had I misjudged him so badly? I grabbed his fist again, and he struggled against me. I glanced back to see if help was coming, and then I saw him, the detective. He had a pleased, almost insanely tranquil smile on his face. How long had he been standing in the doorway, watching and smiling as the man he thought responsible for his daughter's murderer was beaten? I felt a chill run through me. Mulder managed to pull his fist from my grip but I caught it again, twisting it violently. He let out a yelp of pain just as a pair of police officers ran in, their hands on their holstered weapons. They grabbed Mulder, pulling him away from Tyler. "Hey, easy buddy," the older of the pair said. "That's no way to treat a visitor in our fine establishment." He loosened his grip on Mulder and Mulder pushed him away, watching angrily as the other officer escorted a limping, almost doubled-in-pain Tyler from the room. I tried to contain the disgust and anger I felt at his actions. "You shouldn't have done that, Mulder." It was hard keeping my voice quiet and steady. "I wish you hadn't." "He's guilty, Scully. You going to side with criminals, now?" "We don't know for a fact that he's guilty. And for your information, I don't think that he is." "Well, I think he is," Mulder said shortly. The older officer, standing watching us, said slowly, "We're going to have to file a report about this. Your superiors will have to be notified. Sorry, buddy. We want to catch this creep, too, but rules are rules." Mulder nodded grimly. The officer nodded and left, shutting the interview door after him. I wondered vaguely where the detective had gone. "That was incredibly stupid, Mulder. You could get in a hell of a lot of trouble." I couldn't hold my frustration in any longer. "He threatened you, Scully," he said, almost sulkily. "Threatened me?" I stared at him, incredulous. "Mulder, you asked the poor kid what his girlfriend looked like. You knew that she and I looked similar. Then you went off at him for answering the question honestly!" I felt a little shocked as I realised, "You *knew* he would react in that way. You asked him that question so that you'd have an excuse, in your mind, to beat the crap out of him!" I took a shaky breath. "You just wanted an excuse to hit somebody." "He's guilty, Scully." "Maybe he is, maybe he isn't. But that doesn't give you any right to just him as your own personal punching bag! We can't bring our problems to work with us, Mulder." He was silent. I looked him up and down, biting my lip. "You go and get cleaned up. I'll be waiting in the car." My phone rang as I waited for Mulder. It was Skinner, calling to verify whether the story he'd just heard about Mulder assulting a suspect was in any way correct. I unwillingly confirmed it and agreed that Mulder and I would be available to meet with him at five o'clock. We were sullen as we waited in the outer-office. We'd exchanged barely a sentence since we'd left the precinct. I'd told him about the meeting with Skinner and he'd scowled. It had been only silence between us since then. Finally, we were ushered into Skinner's office. We took our usual seats. It was like a second home, this office. "I've been hearing things about you two," he began without introduction. "Not just about today's incident, but over the past couple of days." "What specifically are you referring to, Sir?" I inquired, trying to sound innocent. "All partnerships experience difficulties, as I'm sure you're well aware." He paused, polishing his glasses. "But sometimes the difficulties are greater than other times. I'm sure you know what I'm referring to." "Our relationship outside work is our own business," Mulder said frostily. "I believe we agreed on that three years ago, Sir." "It becomes my business when it affects your working efficiency," Skinner snapped. "And it has, lately. I'm not going to pretend to know what's going on and I don't think I particularly care to, either. But I can see well enough that it's nasty, and the stress is taking its toll on your partnership. That I can't just dismiss." It was utterly humiliating, having to sit there and listen to Skinner condemn us for our personal problems. "Off the record, agents, - and this is a threat - If you can't work together in harmony then you won't be working together any more, period." "Sir!" Mulder and I both burst out in protest, then I clamped my mouth shut, tightening my hands into fists. "Our work has hardly reflected -" Mulder began, but Skinner interrupted. "You almost killed a suspect today, Agent Mulder! Doesn't that tell you something? You're an emotional mess and agents like you are a liability." Mulder glowered at him. I turned away, closing my eyes briefly. Please, God, just let this meeting end... Skinner continued, "The suspect -" "The suspect threatened Agent Scully!" The AD looked at me. "Is this true?" I glanced across at Mulder, then back at Skinner. I swallowed indecisively. "Not exactly, Sir," I admitted. I saw hurt and anger enter Mulder's eyes. He'd expected me to cover for him. I knew that. I'd known that when I told the truth. Skinner stared at us both sternly. "I don't like this situation, Agents." "Can we go now, Sir?" Mulder demanded, meeting Skinner's gaze challengingly. Skinner nodded, and Mulder took off without even looking back to see if I followed. I followed him out slowly. He was waiting for me in the corridor, pacing. "What the hell happened in there?" He almost yelled at me. "I wasn't going to lie for you, Mulder," I said quietly. "Why not? We've covered for each other in the past!" "Keep your voice down!" I felt myself flushing. People were staring at us. "I didn't believe what you did was right. Not this time, Mulder." He scowled at me, moving away and pacing again. "Agent Mulder?" Skinner appeared. "Can I talk to you for another minute?" For a moment I thought Mulder wouldn't go, that he'd disobey as some sort of childish protest. But he reluctantly followed Skinner back into the office. The door closed after them. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. What the hell had gotten into me? Scully was right; what I'd done hadn't been just or fair - far from it. I'd screwed up big-time. "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation in the hall," Skinner looked down as he shuffled the papers on his desk. "And I feel that it's my duty as your superior - and, perhaps, friend - to give you a friendly warning." The look he gave me was anything but friendly. "You're in some serious trouble, Mulder. Not just for breaking that kid's nose. You're in danger of losing everything." "Everything?" I echoed, bad-tempered. "Sir, with all due respect, I can't see how this -" "I have a theory about love, Agent Mulder. I think we only get one real shot at it in our lives. And if we're stupid enough to screw up the chance we get, we don't get another. That's my theory." I was silent. "I've seen too many relationships break up because of work. Mine was one of them. Sometimes the damage is irreparable, but sometimes there's still hope." His eyes met mine sternly. "I know how much you and Scully have been through. All I can say is that if you're willing to throw it all away just because of a few marital squabbles then you're just about as insane as everybody thinks you are. You haven't lost everything yet." "Yes, I have." This afternoon had been the last straw, I knew. I'd seen the way Scully had looked at me, the revulsion and fear in her eyes. "No you haven't. She's still looking out for you. You've got a good woman, Mulder," he said grimly. "Don't let go of her." - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - I don't know what Skinner said to Mulder but he was quiet as we drove home. Not just quiet, but pensive, calm. I felt shaky and cold inside when I looked at him. How was I supposed to trust him again, after that? The vicious, relentless rage I'd witnessed had been possibly the most horrifying thing I'd seen in a long, long time. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Tyler's bloodied nose and wide, terrified eyes. It only added to my depression. The kids were busy with homework when we got home. Kathy handed over Erin and said she had to run, she had a date. She was particularly good at minding her own business when it came to the unusuality of our family. She asked what she needed to know but didn't pry, never questioned, didn't challenge the way we were raising the kids or try and involve herself any more in our lives than her job required. She simply did her job. She kept us updated and we kept her updated. It was a tremendous relief. I don't think I could have handled an inquisitive nanny. I heated a quiche for dinner and we ate. Astrid was talkative as usual, but I could tell that her heart wasn't in it, she just wanted to fill the silence. She and Josh ran off quickly and I piled the dirty dishes in the sink. I'd cooked, he could wash up. Erin had a messy diaper and I hovered behind Mulder as he bathed her, unable to shake the fear of another outburst. As he lifted her from the tub and laid her carefully on a towel, he turned and stared at me. "You don't think you can trust me anymore, do you?" "No, I don't." I felt terrible admitting it. There was an empty space in my heart where my faith in him belonged. He turned back to Erin, gently drying her. "I don't know why I did it, Scully. I wish I hadn't." I could hear the tears in his voice and I blinked back my own. I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder, squeezing very, very gently. Then I turned and left. I stared at my reflection in the mirror for a long time. It was still early but I changed into pajamas. Then, as I looked at my reflection again, I burst into tears. I looked - and felt - so ... so *frumpy*. I felt so unbeautiful and unloved. I felt middle aged and tired and miserable, and on top of the day's events and the week's events it was just way too much to handle. So I cried. Sitting crosslegged on my bed in my frumpy pajamas, buried my face in my hands, and let myself cry all the tears that had been banking up, let out all the fear and anger and grief. "Scully?" I looked up as he entered, feeling slightly absurd. Something about the whole situation, the way I felt clensed after crying about something so pitiful and inane, struck me as oddly funny. I half-smiled, feeling completely unhinged. Where the rational, unflappable Dana Scully I'd known for many years had vanished to, I did not know. "That's the first time I've cried alone in four years, Mulder," I said quietly. My voice shook and I didn't know whether I was going to laugh or cry. "The first time I've cried alone." "It's my fault, I know," he said awkwardly, eyes downcast. "I'm sorry." "I'm sick of assigning blame, Mulder," I disagreed. I sighed. "I guess at least we must have reached the height of our insanity, right?" I looked at him with wry hopefulness. He nodded, venturing a nervous smile. "Yeah." Oddly enough, I felt as though we had passed the worst moment - that we'd reached the peak of our unhappiness and anger and were heading down the slope back to the comfort zone. I felt an odd sensation of relief, even though I knew the path ahead wasn't necessarily any smoother. "Skinner told me that I'd be stupid to let you go," he said steadily. "And he's right, you know. I don't want to lose you, Scully." "You won't." I felt certainty as I spoke the words. I half-shrugged. "I still don't believe what you did was right, Mulder. I'm not going to hide the fact. But we're pulling away from each other instead of together. That's not helping us cope with anything." "I know," he agreed softly. He stared at me, considering. "You look just like a little kid," he said with a wistfully teasing smile. "It reminds me of our first case. You were so earnest." "And you were so determined to scare me off," I remembered. I gave him a shy smile. "Things have changed since then, huh? Things have changed over the last couple of years." "And things haven't," he mused. I thought about that one. I had a ring on my finger and a baby's crib in my bedroom, but I still had an implant at the base of my neck. I still had the scars from various gunshots and assaults. I still sometimes had nightmares of the many villains we'd encountered. We both did. At least we were there to hold each other, now. "No," I agreed quietly. "Some things haven't." He climbed onto the bed, beside me, and took my hands. Then he leaned in to kiss me. I wasn't going to pull away. I wasn't going to. But as I closed my eyes - before our lips even touched - I got a flash of red. Blood red. It was like a threatening shadow had passed over me just as the sun was trying to break out. I broke out in a cold sweat. I pulled away. "I can't." He looked disappointed. "Scully..." "Just not yet, Mulder," I shook my head. "This is all still too fresh." I could see his frustration was building again. "I thought we were better." "Mulder, you used an innocent kid as a punching bag. I can't get over that this quickly. I thought I could deal with it, but..." I shrugged helplessly. He sighed. "I see." But I didn't think he did. "I'll sleep on the couch." "No." I caught his arm as he stood. It was the wrist I'd twisted earlier and he winced. "Sorry," I murmured. I let my grip fall away. "Listen, Mulder; we both make mistakes. I accepted that a long time ago. I also learned a long time ago that it's easier to deal with having made a mistake if you're not alone." He nodded. I put Erin down to sleep and went to tell the kids to go to bed. They were engrossed in a game of chess and I paused to watch them for a moment. Although Astrid inevitably won, her hastiness in making moves allowed Josh to keep up the fight. He stared at the board in deep concentration, his eyes darting from one piece to the next as he played through the possible moves and their consequences in his mind. He reached out, his hand hovering over his remaining rook, then he drew back sharply, reconsidering, before moving a pawn. Astrid immediately moved to capture the pawn with a bishop, but as she was releasing the piece she let out a cry of dismay. "Damn!" "Astrid!" I admonished. It was the first time I'd ever heard her swear and I was shocked. From the mouths of babes... "Watch your language, sweetie." She didn't even look at me. We both watched as Josh captured the bishop with his own. I was surprised that Astrid had let herself fall for such an obvious decoy. She always played fast, and although usually she had planned out her strategy and was three moves ahead, sometimes if her opposition made an unexpected move she made her own move without thinking it through first. Still, even I had been able to see what Josh was setting up. "It's bedtime," I announced quietly. "We're not finished," Astrid said, glancing at me crossly. I was about to insist but then I reconsidered. Astrid usually took herself to bed at a decent hour, having enough common sense to know when to stop. And Josh would give up when he was tired, I knew. I reluctantly agreed to let them keep playing and they dutifully kissed me goodnight, neither of them taking their eyes off the chessboard. I discovered Mulder crying when I reentered our bedroom. He was sitting in the rocker, his forehead resting in the palm of one hand, sobbing quietly. I knew that he was in a very dark place. But I also knew that he wanted me to reach out to him. He needed me to. "Mulder?" I asked softly as I approached him. He raised his head and looked at me, tears coursing down his cheeks. I moved forward, kneeling, and gently cupped his cheeks, brushing the tears away with my thumbs. He smiled unhappily, his hands closing over my wrists, rubbing gently. "I really screwed up, didn't I?" "It was a mistake," I allowed, half-shrugging. "But we're only human. We can't always be in control." "I still shouldn't have lost it like that." He shook his head guiltily. "The damage has been done, Mulder. We can't change that." "It's just that... I hate alcoholics, you know? They're the scum of the earth." "Because of your father?" I asked gently. That did explain why Mulder was so anti-Tyler. He usually pitied the runts of society. He half-nodded, half-shrugged. "I guess. I've tried to avoid analysing it. I guess I'm just scared I'll end up like him." "I don't think that's going to happen," I promised him. "Though I hear that hair loss is a hereditary trait..." But he didn't so much as crack a smile at my attempt at a joke. Instead, he sighed, looking down at his hands. "Can you forgive me, Scully?" His voice was muffled when he finally spoke. "This isn't for me to forgive, Mulder." He looked up and I pulled my eyes away from his piercing, desperate gaze. "It's not up to me to offer absolution." He nodded slowly, hurt. He stood, as if to move past me, but I grabbed his arm gently. "I can offer you comfort," I offered hesitantly. "I'm still here for you, Mulder. Just because I don't agree with what you did doesn't mean I don't still love you." "Do you still love me?" he asked bluntly. I answered without hesitation. "Yes, I do." He half-smiled, but then it crumpled. I opened my arms to him and he fell against me. I could hear the quiet, choked sobs, feel them richochet through his body as I rubbed his back. "This is hell, Scully," he mumbled, finally pulling away. "Everything's just been turned upside down." "We're righting it," I promised him. "Do you think so?" "I know so." I felt the rift closing even as I said the words. Not in one sudden movement, just inch by inch. It was going to be a long haul but at least now we were getting somewhere. I felt it with certainty. I stood on tiptoes to kiss him gently on the cheek. "Let's go to bed, huh?" Neither of us spoke as we settled down to sleep. I had my arms around him and he buried his face in my hair. The silence was soothing rather than tense, which was a welcome change. The way his breath kept hitching, I guessed he was still crying silently. "You thought I was going to hurt you too, didn't you?" he asked finally. His voice was muffled. "I didn't want to risk it. I knew you'd never forgive yourself if you hurt me." "You know me too well, Scully," he murmured. "Not 'too well'," I corrected gently, teasing. "Just as well as an old married couple should know each other." He chuckled quietly. "We're an old married couple, are we? Who says?" "Agents Springsteen and Word and the rest of the BSU, not to mention the every secretary in the building." I paused, smiling to myself. "They've been saying it for ten years now. You'd think they'd get tired of us." He chuckled again. "I guess they knew before we did." "It's their job to profile," I murmured. "They're supposed to know these things." "The secretaries or BSU?" "Both." I smiled sleepily. "Goodnight, Mulder." "'Night, Scully." He settled against me, letting out a long sigh. I was almost asleep myself when Erin let out a plaintive cry. "Damn," I mumbled, then half-smiled when I remembered chiding Astrid earlier in the evening. "S'okay." Mulder roused himself from beside me, half-rolling off the bed. "I've got it." I listened to his soothing murmurs as she fussed. The panic and fear and doubt I'd felt earlier had faded. I felt wonderful trust in him once again. It was tremendous relief. Nevertheless... Erin was still struggling unhappily in Mulder's arms and I felt a tug of concern. If it was another earache coming on... "Mulder?" He was jiggling her gently in his arms. "Yeah?" "You might want to check her temperature... If -" "We're fine," he cut me off. "You get to sleep, okay?" I hesitated, but he held my gaze steadily. Then I nodded. Okay, Mulder. I'm trusting you here. "'Night, Mulder." He smiled at me, and as I obediently let my eyes close I smiled to myself in secret elation. One step at a time, but we were getting there. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - Darren Tyler was keeping as far away from me as humanly possible. I stood in one corner, he stood in the other, staring at me with a defiance I knew would crumble if I so much as looked at him threateningly. But I was on my best behaviour, as my mother would have said. It was that, or let Scully conduct the interview on her own while I waited out in the hall. The younger officer from the day before sat at the interview table, monitoring the proceedings. I felt as if I were the criminal. I guess I probably was. I was responsible for the bruises on the guy's ribs and the five stitches along his jawbone. Not to mention the broken nose. At least I wasn't responsible for the fact that he'd spent the night in the drunk tank. It was the first time we'd interviewed him when he was sober, and he was even less help than usual. Scully was flipping through the case folder. It struck me for the first time how little work we'd really done on the case. Normally by now we would have been close to solving it. Normally we managed to go from one interview to the next, piecing the puzzle together. We'd been on this case three days already and all we'd done was go over the same facts, over and over. "Mr Tyler, did you know a Janet Dinnigan?" "She was the second victim," Tyler answered sulkily. "That's all I know." "So you've never met her?" "No." "And you'd have no reason to want to kill her?" "I didn't know her!" the guy exploded. "How many times do I have to say this? I didn't kill her or that teacher or the two hookers! I didn't know any of them." "What about Rachel Andersen?" I guessed maybe Scully would be annoyed at my interrupting her questioning but I had an idea where she was heading with them. "You knew her." He looked frightened again. "I'm not denying that." "But you deny killing her?" "I didn't mean to kill anyone! For Christ's sake, just leave me alone!" I latched onto his words. "What do you mean, you didn't 'mean to kill anyone'?" "I - " he faltered. "That's not what I said." "Did you also not mean to kill Janet Dinnigan, Kerrie Hardman, Louise Barker and Susan Eldridge?" I shot at him sarcastically. He was shaking and I was wondering if he was going to answer when he said through clenched teeth "I didn't kill them." "That's your story and you're sticking to it, right?" I stared at him contemptuously. I wasn't going to break my word by attacking him again, but I bring myself to empathise with his plight. Not when I knew in my gut that he was a killer. "Mulder?" Scully spoke up. She'd gone back to the case file and was searching through it again. I turned. "Yeah?" She was frowning. "This doesn't fit, Mulder." "What doesn't?" She didn't answer me, but instead stood and slowly approached the defiant Tyler. "Mr Tyler, your statement says that you were at a bar all night on March the eighth. Is that correct?" "How am I supposed to know?" he retorted. He glanced over at me and shrunk a little, reconsidering. "If my statement says so, then I guess it's true," he allowed sulkily. "You've got witnesses to verify this?" "Jack works there every night," he said sulkily. "He'd remember me being there." "Jack -" "Daniel." He smirked at her unpleasantly. I took a step forward threateningly and he pulled back. "Edwards. Jack Edwards." I smiled at him innocently. "Thank you for your co-operation, Mr Tyler." He only scowled. Jack Edwards, aka Johnny Edwards, aka The Big Black Guy Behind The Bar, corroborated Tyler's story - the guy had turned up just before nine and sat drinking steadily until half-past eleven, running out ever half hour to take a leak. Nope, he hadn't been gone for more than five minutes each time, and he definiately hadn't left the bar. He was barely able to stand up, let alone walk straight. "So what now, Sherlock?" Scully murmured as we exited. Our car was parked out in the street and the day was beginning to warm up. I leant against the side of the car and considered the situation. "We're assuming that all five murders are done by the same hand. What if that's wrong?" "Who else would it be?" I shrugged. "I don't know. We haven't even looked into other suspects." Scully looked at me thoughtfully, then nodded. "Let's go." The detective wasn't particularly helpful with providing us with a list of other possible suspects. He seemed determined that Tyler was our man and only frowned when we pointed out that he had an alibi for the third murder. With a great deal of prodding he pulled out his files on the earlier victims, giving us a brief history of each of them. "But I don't think you're gonna find anything there," he said mournfully. He watched as we briefly flipped through the files. "They were trashy types, if you know what I mean. Troublesome." "I see you were the one who investigated the thefts by Susan Eldridge," Scully observed. She looked at Detective Andersen expectantly. "So what's your point?" He looked a little defiant. Scully glanced across at me curiously before returning her gaze to the detective. "You arrested her two weeks before her death." "And I let her go, and she went home. End of story." Out of curiosity, I picked up another case file, flipping through to a photocopied page, an arrest report. "You picked Kerrie Hardman up for prostitution on January third, and then again on the eighth." "She got warnings. Another and she was looking at jail time." "She died on the tenth of January." I managed to sound calm even though my mind was bubbling over. How could we have been so ignorant? The truth was so clear now... The detective frowned, then clarity dawned in his eyes. "Listen, I didn't attach any relevance to it at the time, but Darren Tyler was in here some time just before that poor girl was murdered. This is an old place and the plumbing's shot to pieces. He's in here every once in a while fixing the old pipes." "Could you look up the exact dates for us, Detective?" Scully asked. The detective nodded. "Sure. We keep the receipts. It could take a while, though. Our filing system's in the middle of being computerised." He turned to leave but I stopped him. "Detective Andersen?" "Yes?" "You wouldn't happen to have a theory about how exactly Tyler killed these women, would you?" "Not a clue." He shrugged. I nodded understandingly. "Yeah, us either. See, it's just going to be hard to get a conviction unless we can come up with some sort of evidence to prove he killed them." Scully was looking at me strangely but I kept a straight face. "I see what you mean." Andersen looked thoughtful. "I'll get a man right on it." I smiled. "You do that." I steered Scully out of the precinct and back out into the sunlight. She looked at me, a slow smile spreading across her face and touching her eyes. "Mulder, you enjoy terrorising people, don't you?" I smiled at her ambiguously. "So, where to now?" She raised an eyebrow expectantly. "Lunch," I announced. "We've got some waiting to do." - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - I was only halfway through my Italian salad when Mulder's celphone rang. He grinned at me mischieviously before answering, his face taking on an expression of mock-seriousness. "I *see* ...Right, Detective... We'll be right there." I looked at him enquiringly as he hung up. "Guess what a search of Tyler's house turned up?" he grinned. "You tell me." I knew he was bursting to. It was the eagerness of a little boy on Christmas morning. "A book on black magic. And guess what was on the bookmarked page?" "A love spell?" Everything was clicking into place. Mulder nodded. "'How to fill her heart with eternal love for you'," he quoted. He pulled a face. "How cheesy." He stood, heading over to the counter to pay. I chewed one final mouthful of my salad, washed it down with a gulp of iced water and then regretfully stood. It was rare to find such a good meal when we were on the road. Mulder returned, looking more subdued, though I could still see the excitement dancing in his eyes. I thought about his dark, pained eyes the night before. There was something cleansing about crying, most undeniably. We were more relaxed and lighthearted than we had been in weeks, and I was utterly grateful. Undoubtedly the breakthroughs in the case had helped as much as the frustration had hampered our relationship. We were finally making progress. And more than that, we were having some strange, twisted sort of fun. "Ready to go?" I nodded, letting him put his hand on my back. Back to usual, I thought with great relief. Not that we hadn't changed - because I knew lack of change was just as dangerous to a relationship as mistrust and miscommunication and all the other thousands of reasons that so many marriages failed. We'd changed, but we'd realigned ourselves. We'd been on an emotional rollercoaster, but we were back in sync again, and that was what counted. Well, almost completely back in sync. There were still some things left unresolved that we'd deal with when the time came. Detective Andersen showed us his finding with grim relish. It was a small book, fairly new by the looks of it. There was still a small price tag sticker on the back. It was entitled simply 'Black Magick', and a folded theatre ticket inside marking a page indicated that the spell in question was, as Mulder had quoted, titled 'How to fill her heart with eternal love for you'. "I knew we'd nail him." The detective sounded jubilant. Mulder and I looked at each other with brisk professionalism. "Then let's go pick him up." The detective took his own car, following behind our own. First stop was Tyler's house, which proved to be empty. We then headed off, on Andersen's suggestion, to the bar Tyler frequented. My protests that it was one in the afternoon proved fruitless and, so we soon discovered, incorrect. "Mr Tyler, could we talk to you for a minute?" Mulder slid into the seat next to him at the bar, giving the kid an engaging grin. I knew he was zeroing in for the kill. "Whaddya want?" The kid scowled at Mulder. "We were wondering if you could tell us about this?" Mulder produced the book as if out of nowhere and Tyler shrank back when he saw what it was. "Shit," he mumbled, looking down into his drink. The glass was near full and I wondered how many he'd already had. He seemed pretty drunk already. "You didn't mean to kill her, did you?" Mulder asked, gentler than I'd expected. "I didn't kill-" "You just wanted her to love you back. That's it, right?" "Shit," Tyler mumbled again. His shoulders slumped completely. "Where did you get the book?" I asked gently. "Markets." He shrugged. "Rachel dragged me there. I found it looking around when she was trying on clothes. You know what girls are like with clothes." "And so you thought you'd try the lovespell out on her?" Mulder challenged quietly. "Yes." It was barely a whisper. The detective had been hovering behind us, watching, and took a few steps closer. "Your little lovespell cost my daughter her life, you know that?" "I didn't mean to kill her! I never meant to harm her!" "It's a bit late for that, isn't it?" His voice was filling with rage. I glanced at Mulder, who was following the scene intently. Andersen moved in closer and Tyler stumbled backward, almost knocking the barstood over as he slid off it. Squirming past Mulder, he backed away from the detective. "I'm sorry, okay? I loved her, too. I loved her, too..." "You think sorry's going to cut it?" Andersen snarled. "You killed her, and you killed all those other girls. You're going to burn in hell for that." "But I didn't kill the others..." He was sobbing again, hands held up in a cowardly attempt to protect himself. "I didn't even know them. I swear, I didn't.,," The detective turned to face us. "We've got a confession for the first murder," he said, disgusted. "That's enough to hold him for the time being." "Quite," Mulder agreed amiably. He threw a glance in my direction. "Scully, you want to cuff him?" I nodded, pulling the handcuffs from my trenchcoat pocket. Tyler had sunk into a huddle on the floor and I grabbed his arm, pulling him upright. He was a mess, crying like a two year old, his face still bruised from Mulder's attack. I cuffed him as gently as I could and let him sink back down on a barstool. We were lucky that it was the middle of the day - the only audience we had was a pair of bikies playing snooker and the bartender, Jack Edwards. He was standing back polishing glasses as he watched the proceedings with unashamed curiosity. Mulder and Andersen were also watching as I cuffed him. There was a distinct expression of satisfaction on Andersen's face that I disliked. "Now that he's all tied up out of the way," Mulder said smoothly. "I thought we could have a little conversation." "We should be getting him down to the station. The quicker he's in a jail cell, the better." "We just need to get a few things straight, detective. See, there's just a couple of things we haven't been able to work out. Have we, Scully?" "No we haven't," I agreed, going along with the game, whatever it was. "See," Mulder continued, "from the beginning we knew that this was a crime of love. The problem was that we automatically assumed that it was between lovers." His voice dropped. "But there are different types of love, aren't there, detective?" "What do you mean?" "Well, there's the love of a man and a woman, or there's ...the love of a man for his daughter, for instance." "If you're saying that I killed my own daughter, you're full of crap." Mulder was shaking his head slowly. "No, you didn't kill your own daughter. But you did kill those other four women." The shock showed more clearly on my face than it did on Andersen's, I know. He pressed his lips together tightly, colour suffusing his face. "Why would I do that?" "Because you did love your daughter. You knew there wasn't enough evidence to get Tyler convicted for killing your daughter, but figured that if you could turn it into a series of murders and threw in plenty of circumstantial evidence it'd be guaranteed to attract the interest of say, the FBI. And if convicted of the killings of several women, Tyler would get a life sentence." "All right, so then how did I do it?" he demanded. "How did I kill those women?" "You took his book," Mulder said quietly. I watched, fascinated. I didn't mind that Mulder had been this far ahead of me. Although it was satisfying solving a case on my own, there was something equally enjoyable about having the truth revealed to me. I loved seeing Mulder's mind in action. "You never found it in his house. He probably threw it away after your daughter died. But you found it, and you realised you could use it to get him framed." "And I murdered four innocent women?" "You're in law enforcement," Mulder said, shrugging. "You know all about justice. These women were trashy, trouble - you said so yourself. No great loss, huh? Maybe you were even doing the world a favour. Cleaning up the streets. Isn't that right?" Andersen swallowed violently. "I don't have to listen to any of this crap. I'm hauling this shitball back to the station." He gestured toward Tyler, who was staring, wide-eyed with fear and fascination. Mulder leaned in closer to him. "Darren Tyler accidently killed the woman he loved. You murdered four women in cold blood. Tell me: to who here should we lock up and throw away the key?" - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - Andersen didn't speak, but his silence was as good as a confession. I cuffed him, calling in for backup to come take him off our hands. Scully and I would take Tyler back in our own car. The sirens turned up within minutes. Among the officers was the older cop who'd pulled me away from Tyler. He nodded acknowledgement, I returned the nod. Scully escorted Tyler out to our car. When I exited the bar I found Tyler sitting half out the back seat, throwing up in the gutter. I watched as Scully handed him a bunch of tissues to clean himself up with. The oddest sense of admiration swept over me. Scully had more compassion and understanding than I ever would. She gave people a chance, even if they didn't deserve one. Hell, she'd given me endless chances. The kid - and he was really only a kid, a poor, lovesick, guilty-as-hell and scared-for-his-life kid - stared at Scully for a moment before dropping his head. "Thanks for not letting him kick the crap out of me again," he mumbled. "Your partner, I mean. And Harry - Detective Anderson, too." He rubbed his eyes. "Rach always said he'd kill me if I hurt her. I thought she was just kidding." A small smile appeared on Scully's lips. Tyler looked up at Scully, frowning. "Why did you give a damn, anyway?" he demanded, suddenly agressive. I could remember my father's mood swings when he got drunk. Never a pretty sight. You never knew when he was going to suddenly fly off the handle. "My brother was an alcoholic," Scully said quietly. I stood, staring. How come I had never heard about this? Why was Scully sharing such an intimate part of her past with this drunk stranger? Scully must have realised then that I was behind her, because she turned and gave me a small smile. "You ready to go, Mulder?" I nodded, distracted. "Yeah, sure." It wasn't many hours later when, forms and reports filled out and both suspects in cells, I finally got the opportunity to ask Scully what had been secretly driving me to distraction. Well, I got the opportunity, but before I had the chance to use it, Scully, eyes ahead as she drove, offered the information. "Charlie." "Huh?" I feigned ignorance and she shook her head, half-smiling knowledgeably. "C'mon, Mulder. I know you've been wondering all day if it was Bill or not. And it wasn't. It was Charlie." "What happened?" "It was a long time ago. He really bummed out his senior year of school. Scored low on his SATs and started binge drinking when he couldn't get into college. Mom and Dad were really disappointed." "There must have been pressure to succeed after you did so well," I observed. She nodded. "He hated me." She sighed. 'But then he sobered up, went back and redid his last year. Mom was supportive, good about it all. Dad was ... well, Dad couldn't get over his disappointment that Charlie flunked in the first place. Mom pulled him around, eventually." "Your dad sounds like a pretty obstinate guy." She smiled. "Mom can get pig-headed, too. I got a double-dose of the wilfulness gene." I chuckled quietly, looking out the window. The atmosphere in the car settled a little, became less merry. "They won't be able to get convictions, will they?" Scully asked slowly. "They'd have to swallow the murder-by-black-magic theory," I demurred. "No judge is going to buy that. The case'll probably get thrown out." Scully sighed. "I wish we'd had something more concrete to tie Andersen to the crimes. Something a jury could convict on." "If wishes were horses..." I shrugged philosphically. "I think we can trust that he won't be committing any more crimes. He failed in his purpose." "He still coldbloodedly killed four innocent women," Scully pushed. I shrugged. "It's out of our hands, Scully." She nodded. "Yeah, I know, I know." I reached and slid my hand over hers on the steering wheel. She pushed me away half-heartedly. "I know, Mulder!" There was frustration in her voice and she immediately bit down on her lip, sighing. "Sorry." She let out a shaky laugh. "I'm trying not to get frustrated here, but -" "This case has been a mess from beginning to end, right?" I supplied. She nodded, sighing. "Exactly." - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - It was a relief to be home. The house was empty; Kathy had taken Erin and gone to pick up the kids from school. I dropped my keys and kicked off my shoes, dropping down on the couch with a long sigh. Although it was only mid-afternoon, the day's events had left me tired. The sky outside had been dull all day and now it looked as well as felt that it were early evening. I let my eyes close as I listened to the familiar sounds of Mulder moving around the apartment. There was a beep and the nasal voice of the answering machine informed us that we had two new messages. The first was my mom, wanting to know if I thought the pills her doctor had prescribed were the right ones. They were different to the ones she normally took and she wasn't sure if this new doctor knew what he was doing. The second one was a less familiar voice, a message from the school counsellor requesting us to call the school, stressing that it wasn't an emergency but it would be appreciated if we could call at the first opportunity to set up a meeting. I groaned silently. We'd had a lot of these messages the first few months Astrid was at school - behavioural problems, concern over pushing her too far, that maybe she needed to be held back so she wasn't so much younger than the rest of her class. There had been many problems. Josh, too, had had his fair share of difficulties fitting in. It hadn't been easy for any of us, but lately it had seemed that everything was finally working out. Until now. Mulder was standing beside the phone, tapping his fingers idly on the table and chewing on his lower lip. I moved next to him, my hand on his upper arm. "You want to ring or will I?" I could see the weariness in his eyes - that, just when things started getting better and working out, another complication came along. "I'll do it," he said quietly. He picked up the cordless. "Kathy's free til six, isn't she?" I nodded. One of the biggest problems with arranging meetings with the school counsellor was the hours we worked. In the past we'd had to request afternoons off for 'personal reasons'; if we were in the middle of a case usually one of us would go and the other would stay at work. Just as we wouldn't ever let out cases affect our family, we were trying our hardest not to let out family be detrimental to our cases. We didn't want to give anybody cause or excuse to split us up. I found my shoes and pulled them back on as Mulder rang the school. The counsellor obligingly agreed to see us at a quarter to four and we headed off. Although the constant interviews and meetings in the past had proved frustrating, to give it it's due, the school excelled at keeping more than just the students' academic progress monitored. They prided themselves on keeping close watch on the students' mental wellbeing and taking immediate action if they sensed a problem with a particular student. Not surprising, really, given how sensitive and finely-strung so many of their students seemed to be. Even in the school's nurturing environment, I knew the kids found it tough being smarter than other children their age. It made them different. We were ushered right into the counsellor's office as soon as we arrived. "Mr Mulder, Ms Scully." Mrs Preston, the grey-haired five-times-a-grandmother counsellor and trained child psychologist greeted us crisply. She had a definite no-nonsense style I admired, treating parents firmly but without condescension. She also had an incredibly grasp of the minds of young children - perhaps because she was a former child prodigy herself. "I've called you here about Astrid," she said without hesitation. "Although, looking over some recent work of Josh's, I believe we need to discuss him too." I felt my insides sinking tiredly. I glanced across at Mulder but he was looking away. "But starting with Astrid..." She glanced down briefly at the papers on her desk, straightening them with the tips of her fingers. "Her mean exam score has dropped significantly over the past week or two. As you know, we start the day with a quick quiz on topics studied the previous day and earlier in the week, to test attentiveness and retentive memory. Astrid is usually in the 90 - 100% percentile in these quizzes. This morning she scored 58%. Yesterday morning was 44%. She also handed in an essay only half the required word-length. She got a C." She looked at us steadily across the table. "Her teacher has reported vagueness in class, tiredness and frustrated outbursts. I'm sure you'll agree with me that this not Astrid's normal behaviour." My mouth was dry. "What about Josh?" I asked quietly. Again, there was no hesitation before she spoke. "He's been quiet and withdrawn in class - more so than usual. Co-operative, but not communicating. He's frequently making careless mistakes." She paused. "I understand, from talking to Astrid several weeks ago, that Joshua was experiencing problems earlier in the year. Insecurities and the like. I'm ashamed to admit that I put these struggles down to the difficulty of the syllabus and my only cause of action was to recommend to his teacher to lighten the load." She paused again. "I don't know if these two incidents are related, although I would presume not, given that this time both children are affected." "This is unrelated," Mulder said tightly. The counsellor nodded slowly. "I thought as much." She leaned across the desk, hands folded. "When siblings are similarly affected it's most usually because of strain or tension in the home. Are there problems at home?" I glanced across at Mulder. "We've been experiencing... a rough patch," I admitted reluctantly. "I guess it's been fairly tense." That was a lie. There was no 'guess' in there, no 'fairly' either. It had been terribly tense. "I see," Mrs Preston nodded knowingly. And, undoubtedly, she did know. "We're working on it, though," I glanced across at Mulder for confirmation and he nodded, lips set. Mrs Preston leaned back in her chair, tapping a pen thoughtfully. "That's your own business, of course," she said matter-of-factly, "But I'm sure you're aware how fragile a young mind is. These children need a nurturing environment. Joshua in particular is amazingly sensitive. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that. And when I see him closing himself off, withdrawing, it tells me that he's not getting the attention he needs." I glanced across at Mulder. I could see anger and frustration boiling in him. I reached across, sliding my hand over his as they lay folded in his lap. He twitched, glancing across at me. I saw doubt wavering in his eyes before the shutters went up and he pressed his lips together tightly. "I'm also concerned that Astrid and Joshua have too many outside committments, which are infringing on the time otherwise spent on schoolwork. Many assignments lately Astrid has handed in unfinished or under specified length. Does she have enough time for her schoolwork?" Of course she does, was my initial thought. But then I reconsidered. She was always with Erin; she always insisted on caring for her. But, an unwelcome voice piped up, you're always always foisting Erin off on her when you've got too much else to do. And you've always got too much else to do. "Astrid spents a lot of time with her younger sister," Mulder spoke up, as if he'd read my mind. "Undoubtedly this is time which should be otherwise spent on schoolwork." "We don't really check up that they get their homework done any more," I admitted slowly. "We used to, but we've just come to a point where we trust that they'll get it done." "They're both very independant children," Mrs Preston agreed. "Astrid in particular is very headstrong and independant, although she sometimes lacks in self-discipline. As a parent it's hard to know how much attention your child still needs. Gifted and advanced children are usually capable of entertaining and caring for themselves, however, it's necessary that they know that you're still there for them." That shook me. Astrid and Josh barely ever came to me with their problems anymore - with anything, really. Despite being only eight and five, they had the self-contained worlds of teenagers. They lived in their bedroom - Josh, in particular, in his cave of a bed. We'd call them for dinner and they'd come, eat, and run off again. They told us when their blazer needed drycleaning or if they had no ironed shirts and we sent off to the drycleaners or one of us ended up ironing at eleven thirty at night. Josh was finally able to tie his own tie - he no longer needed Mulder to tie it for him every morning. They would tell us any supplies they needed for school and we'd pick them up. Had it always been like this? I couldn't remember. It had been like this for a while, I knew for certain. But there had been that closer attachment, that clinginess, not too long ago. When had it disappeared? When Erin was born, maybe? "We'll work on it," Mulder was promising. He stood, shaking the counsellor's hand. I could see the disappointed, frustrated anger in his eyes. We didn't speak as we left the office. I could see that Mulder was blaming himself unnecessarily for these latest problems, and I didn't want to risk an angry outburst by speaking up. But sitting there silently was unbearable. Finally Mulder decided for me. "I knew I'd screw them up eventually." "This isn't your fault, Mulder. We're both responsible for this." He shook his head. "That's crap, Scully." Frustration and anger flared at his comment. "Damnit, Mulder, don't give me that!" He looked away, shaking his head grimly. I tried to calm myself down but my anger was boiling now, too. "This isn't about you, Mulder. This is about the kids. They're the focus here." I managed to lower my voice a little, but my words were still quick and sharp, slipping out in an unguarded moment. "You're self-centered, Mulder. You always have been. We can't afford to be self-centered any more." I regretted my words immediately. We were trying to put things back together again, not rip them apart further. Not rip each other further apart. I sighed. "Mulder..." I reached out to touch his arm gently. "You're right, Scully," he muttered. He was managing to look everywhere but at me. "We've got to focus on the kids here." Then he brushed past me. "Let's go home." - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - I knew she was angry at me but I wasn't feeling tolerant enough to want to deal with it. I always abhorred these sessions with the school counsellor. At other times I could fool myself into thinking that I was a good father, but something like this always forced me to face the fact that I wasn't. Work had always been first priority and somehow it still was. And I'd become the neglectful, self-involved parent I'd always despised. "I didn't mean for us to argue before," Scully said quietly. Kathy and the kids had been there when we'd gotten home but neither Josh or Astrid had spoken to either of us - they were sitting right in front of the TV and seemed to be immersed in what they were watching. They were both addicted to The Learning Channel. Kathy had told us that the homework had been done and then passed Erin over to Scully before dashing off in her Kathy-style exit. I glanced up at Scully as she spoke. She was still holding Erin, whose tiny hand clutched at Scully's necklace, sucking on the cross. Never, on the many occasions when I'd held or seen the necklace, had I ever imagined that one day my own daughter would be drooling all over it. "It's my fault," I admitted readily, almost defensively. "I wasn't cut out to be a father." She shook her head, frowning. "That's not an excuse, Mulder." She sighed tiredly. "And it's not true." I stared at her skeptically. "You saying I'm not an utter failure? You've got eyes, Scully. Look around." She looked as if she were getting frustrated again, if nothing else. "Mulder, will you stop trying to take the blame for this? We're responsible together. And we've got to work on a solution, together. We need to discuss these things. Agreed?" I nodded, almost unwillingly. Glancing over at the kids in front of the TV, seemingly oblivious to our conversation, she flicked her head toward the bedroom. I understood the need for privacy. I waited as she moved the bouncer to the floor beside Josh and buckled Erin in. She murmured quietly to Josh and he nodded, taking his eyes from the TV only briefly to glance over Erin. As we entered the bedroom she slipped her arm around my back, nestling against me. It wasn't an "I'm tired and need holding" hug, although I knew how tired she was, how tired we both were. It was simply a connection between us, a physical representation of the somewhat tenuous emotional bond. Once in the bedroom she withdrew her arm, pulling off her jacket and tossing it on the bed. Shirt and pants followed and she rifled through the drawers, pulling on some dark jeans and a deep blue mock-turtleneck. Holstered gun was tossed into the top drawer of her bureau. "They don't need us." She was pulling on a knitted sweater and her words were muffled, almost indistinct. She turned, tugging it straight. "That's what I can't get past. I don't know how to get around it." The admission came as a surprise to me. Somehow I'd always assumed that Scully's relationship with the kids was closer than mine with them. These days I simply felt I had no connection with them. Scully crossed her arms, looking at me unhappily. "I just don't know how to talk to them anymore," she confessed. "They're not..." She winced. "I hate saying this because it makes me feel terrible, but I don't feel like they're really our kids, Mulder. They're just strangers. Very independant adults in children's bodies." "They are," I said slowly. "They don't have the needs that normal kids do. Parents are supposed to give their kids care and protection and support... But Astrid and Josh don't need our protection." She frowned. "But they do, Mulder. And they need our support. They do need cuddles and hugs and help with homework." So the damn counsellor was right yet again. Scully bit her lip. "They just never ask for it." She sighed. "Why not, Mulder?" I half-shrugged and she ran her hands through her hair, dropping down onto the bed and hugging a pillow. She sighed again, pressing her face against it. "Mulder," she finally spoke, her voice small, "What was it like when your parents fought?" My stomach twisted. "You mean, *really* fought?" I tried to keep my tone wry. She nodded and I sighed heavily, shakily. My skin was crawling as I remembered my parents arguments. Their voices echoed in my head and I shook myself. "It's one of the most terrifying things that can ever happen to a kid," I said slowly. "It's the not knowing... not knowing if they're going to start hitting each other or hitting you. And wanting to run away and hide but even if you do you just can't shake that feeling of horror." - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - My skin chilled at his words. No wonder Mulder had been so scarred by his relationship with his parents. But, dear God, were Astrid and Josh going to be just as scarred because of our stupid rift? I tried to tell myself that a week or two of difficulties could hardly cause as much damage as what the Mulder family had been through, but secretly I wasn't so sure. "That must havebeen really tough," I said finally. He nodded awkwardly. "Yeah, it was." I was struck for the first time by how little we'd discussed his past during our marriage. Even after his mother's death he'd clamped up after a single night of tears and not mentioned her since. We were always focusing on the present or the future; to think of the past on top of all else was too much. "I'm sorry," I whispered, knowing how inadequate it was. He smiled grimly. "We've got the kids to focus on now, right?" "Yeah, we do," I agreed quietly, but at the same time I was wondering how much work it would take to patch up all the unhealed wounds from Mulder's past. It was something he wanted to talk about, I felt, but not something that was easy to talk about. I opened my arms to him, silently offering a hug. He crawled onto the bed and instead put his arms around me, scooping me up in them and holding me tightly. Nevertheless, somehow I was still the comforter. Right then, I wanted it that way. We held each other for a long time. I could hear his breathing, a little shallow, exhaling shakily at intervals. I could feel his heart beating. "You know," he mused quietly, "I can recount obscure facts about something I learned in highschool. I can tell you who won any pro-baseball game in the last twenty years. But I don't know Astrid's shoe size. I don't know which is Josh's favourite dinosaur." He paused, exhaling tiredly. "I don't know my own kids, Scully." "That's not true," I disagreed gently. "It is," he insisted. "You and Jacqueline and even Kathy... You all know more than I know. You're all in control." I couldn't protest that. I was always the one who kept track of the kids' schedules, made their lunches in the morning, made sure Astrid's favourite t-shirt was washed for baseball training. Jacqueline knew what they liked and disliked, where they were up to at school. She was the one who brought Josh's monthly issued Dinosaur Fact File and added to Astrid's ever increasing collection of hairclips and ribbons. And Kathy - even Kathy kept up. She was the one who heard the day's news and dealt with the arguments over afternoon snacks and did the things I ran out of time to do, braiding Astrid's hair for school and covering Josh's new textbook, one eye on Erin. But did Mulder realise, I wondered, that I felt just as much out of the loop as he did? I heard about Erin's progress rather than seeing it for myself. Would we miss out on her first step, I wondered? Her first word? But the bottom line - yes, I was more in control than Mulder. However hesitant the bond I felt to the kids, Mulder's was even weaker, even more shy. I owed it to him to share what little time I had with the kids, because this wasn't something I had to manage alone. They were his as much as they were mine. "I want more input, Scully. It sounds easy but I don't know how to go about it. I want this to be more equal parenting." "I understand." My voice was muffled as I pressed my face against his sweater. "I guess I was just always used to coordinating everything myself. My mom was the head of the family as I was growing up, you know. She was the one who always organised us. Dad was away a lot." "But you still loved your father," he said slowly. The parallel to himself remained unspoken. I considered. "He made the time he was there count, I guess. He'd read to me and he and my brothers would glue together model ships and planes. We used to play baseball together in the yard - all of us, even Mom and Missy, and the neighbours. Sometimes half the kids in the base joined in, a huge game. I loved that." I paused, revelling in the warmth of the nostalgia. "I've got a lot of good memories, you know?" "Sam and I used to go play ball with the kids in the neighbourhood. I stopped playing after she was taken. It wasn't important." He sounded wistful. "I want to be there for Astrid and Josh. I want them to have those sorts of memories. Good memories." I understood why Erin had been left off the list - there were the kids and then there was Erin. Our relationship with her was so immensely different to that of the kids - not just because of her age or because she was ours, but because we knew that, even when ten or twelve or sixteen, she'd still need us. With Astrid and Josh, we had to work hard to be needed, even now. "Me too," I agreed softly. I closed my eyes, letting my mind wander in the silence that followed. "I hope to God we haven't destroyed them," I murmured, thinking about Mulder's words earlier about his parents fighting. "We're so far away from them at the moment... I don't want these last weeks to have widened the gulf." There was a long silence between us, an unspoken acknowledgement of fears. "What are we going to do, now?" he asked quietly, finally. "I don't know," I answered honestly. I didn't want to confront the kids about it. I wasn't prepared for that. But what were the alternatives? Simply wait and see how our relationship fared over the next few days, whether the kids were once again comfortable enough around us to come to us with their problems? But I felt we needed to clear the air as quickly as possible - that if we just left it and said "We'll see" we would only go more crazy. I roused myself from his arms. "I think I'll call Jacqueline." He nodded and I bent to kiss his forehead as I slid off the bed. I was leaving the room when I stopped and turned back curiously. "Mulder?" He looked up. "Yeah?" "You want to talk some more, later?" He half-smiled, nodding silently. It was only, somehow, just before six, so I rang Jacqueline's work number. She shot out a barrage of questions at me before I had the chance to explain why I'd called. Were things better now that I was back at work? Was there more or less tension? Did I think we were on the road to recovery? In short, had Mulder and I stopped being bloody fools yet? It was the last question that I couldn't stop a smile at. Jacqueline had picked up some of Graham's more Australian phrases and they sounded bizarre in her accent. The last few days had been a long story and I told it as concisely as I could, outlining our case, Mulder hitting the suspect, the resolution, the impact it had had on our relationship. "What about the kids?" she asked finally. "What sort of impact has this had on them?" I reluctantly related our interview with the counsellor. Jacqueline was silent for a long time. "I have to admit, Dana," she confessed eventually, "I saw this coming." "Why didn't you say anything?" I demanded, a little annoyed. More than a little annoyed. Why did she know so much more about our kids than we did? "I didn't feel it was my place. You're the parents." The explanation was almost laughable. "Mulder and I aren't really feeling that way," I admitted. Again, a long, pensive silence. "They're growing up fast, Dana. Even when they were little sometimes I felt they didn't need me. It must be a lot tougher now. Astrid's very independant." "I know that," I felt impatience growing. "I just don't know what to do about it." I moved restlessly to the window, then back into the kitchen, glancing over at the kids. They were still in front of the TV, but Josh had pulled Erin out of the bouncer and was cuddling her. That Erin would grow up spoilt was inevitable, I supposed. Rarely came a moment when she was left alone; there was always myself or Mulder or Jacqueline or Kathy or one of the kids holding her, playing with her, fighting over her. Damnit, another problem. How to prevent Erin growing up as a spoilt brat. I shook my head, telling myself not to be so harsh. "I don't know what to tell you, Dana," Jacqueline was saying. "I grew up without a strong parental influence and... I think I turned out okay. Maybe it's in our genes to be independant." She sighed. "Maybe it's easier to look after ourselves because we're the only ones who can understand." "I guess,"I acknowledged quietly. Jaccqueline sensed my discomfort at the idea and adroitly changed the subject. "What about Erin? Are they still monopolizing her?" We discussed that for a few minutes then Jacqueline trailed off, quickly asking me to wait a second and putting me on hold. Phone clamped between ear and shoulder, I headed into the kitchen and put the oven on to preheat. I pulled out the ricecooker and switched it on, roughly measuring out rice and water and tossing them in before putting the lid on and switching it to 'cook'. I was pulling the defrosting chicken kebabs out of the pantry when the hold music abruptly broke off and the receiver was picked up again. "Sorry about that," Jacqueline sounded muffled. "Graham just turned up. We're going out to dinner." I heard him murmur something and then a muffled giggle from Jacqui. "Listen, he's booked a table for us across town so we've really got to run before it pours..." I smiled wistfully, wondering what it would be like to be able to run off to a romantic dinner date without worrying about organising a sitter or whether the baby would get yet another earache. Mulder and I had skipped that stage, and sometimes - only rarely, but sometimes - I regretted that. I said goodbye and hung up, unwrapping the kebabs and tossing them in a large dish and into the oven, setting the timer. Mulder was on the couch watching TV with the kids. The channel had been changed from TLC to FOX and a Simpsons repeat was showing. I wasn't sure whose choice that had been. "Mulder? Can I talk to you for a minute?" He met my eyes and nodded, following me into the bedroom. "What did Jacqueline say?" "Not much we didn't already know. Except," I added reluctantly, "That she saw this coming." "Saw what coming?" "The influence of our problems on the kids. The way it's affected their schoolwork." "It's affected more than just their schoolwork." "I know." Mulder sighed. "Did she have any ideas how to fix it?" My turn to sigh. "Nope." I half-shrugged. He was looking tired and I was about to reach out to him when we heard a loud smash from the kitchen. Racing out, we found Astrid standing barefoot in the middle of the kitchen, shards of broken glass all around her, glittering in the light. Her face was set in a frown, but her lower lip trembled as she pressed them tightly together. I couldn't tell if it were fear or anger or guilt. "Stay there, Astrid," Mulder said. He and I only had socks on and he ran off to get his shoes, not wanting to be cut by the glass. But Astrid ignored him, deliberately stepping over the broken glass. I watched, shocked. I could hear it crunching under her bare feet, but not so much as a flicker of pain crossed her face. Her hair fell down over her face and I couldn't see it. I almost didn't want to. I knew I wouldn't recognise it. "Astrid -" The stunned paralysis broke and I took a step forward, praying that there was no glass where I put my feet. Somehow, there wasn't. I grabbed Astrid and lifted her up. There were small, bloody footprints on the floor. I could see the angry confusion on Mulder's face as I passed Astrid to him. She was silent as he sat her on the kitchen table. She drew one foot up and stared at it, picking out the tiny shards of glass, one by one. "You right with her?" I asked Mulder quietly. He nodded and I went to find the dustpan and broom, to sweep up the mess before somebody else got hurt. Astrid, still sullenly silent, shot me a look as I returned. It was a far cry from her usual cheerful countenance and I was disturbed. What had we done to this beautiful child that she looked at us with such hatred? "You okay there, kiddo?" Mulder, watching as Astrid coolly removed the last of the glass, glanced over at me anxiously. "Fine," came an uncharacteristically short answer. Mulder flinched back a little, threw me another anxious glance. I finished sweeping up the glass and then drew Mulder aside. "Maybe we should give her some space," he suggested uncertainly. I shook my head. "I want to get to the bottom of this." I went over and took one of Astrid's feet in my hands. Already the bleeding had stopped and the wounds had begun to heal. "Why'd you do that?" I asked quietly. I could feel her begin to shake in my hands but she was silent. "You can talk to us, you know." I ran my thumb over the now healed sole of her foot. "No, I can't." Her hair was again in her eyes and I brushed it away. Her eyes were dark. I could now see the anger in them clearly. No childish pouts anymore. No babyish whining. She was mad as hell. "Why do you say that?" I needed to pinpoint the problem, to get through to her. But she pulled her foot from my grip and slid off the table, pushing past me. "Astrid," I called with more desperation. "Go talk to somebody else about me!" she shouted with sudden, choked, grating emotion. I could hear the tears in her voice. She turned and slammed her bedroom door. Mulder and I stared at each other heavily. This wasn't an eight year old's tantrum - this was the anguish of a misunderstood and neglected adolescent. "Shit," Mulder muttered. I glanced at Josh, who was staring at us wide-eyed. He ducked his head as soon as he met my eyes, his arms tightening around Erin. She was whimpering. My heart was racing and my breath came unevenly. Still, I tried to speak calmly. "Mulder, you and Josh put Erin in her crib. I'm going to talk to Astrid." He raised an eyebrow, as if to question if I really wanted to confront her after that. "I think," I said slowly, "that we owe her an apology." - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - I didn't realise that the kids had so many throwable items in their room. I could hear Astrid's angry, screaming rants through our bedroom wall, along with thump after thump, a variety of different objects hitting the floor and wall. I considered going in to back Scully up, but then shook myself at the ridiculousness of it. This was our eight year old daughter, not a bigger-and-stronger-than-Scully suspect. I put Erin in her crib and Josh dragged over a chair so that he could tuck her in, carefully switching on her nightlight. She yawned, sucking sleepily on Josh's thumb. Scully had stated that none of the Scully children ever had a pacifier, and neither would this one. I didn't know whether my Mom had believed in pacifiers or not. I had no way of finding out now, either. There was a loud crash and I caught the tail end of a string of choice words, almost incoherent. I turned to find Josh staring at me unhappily, and I struggled to lighten the situation. "This is what they're teaching you in school these days?" I joked weakly. He smiled unhappily and turned back to Erin, tugging his thumb free and giving her a kiss goodnight. Then he slid the side of the crib back up and climbed off his chair, dragging it back to the wall and leaving the room. Very Shakespearean, was all I could think as I stared out our bedroom window, hearing the first few angry rumbles of thunder, watching as rain began pelting down from the dark stormclouds. The weather had been almost restless all day, and now finally the elements had cut all hell loose. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - I'd never witnessed such anger from Astrid before. The raw, unrestrained fury with which she carried on was almost frightening. This was her release, just as Mulder's had been beating up Darren Tyler. The tension between Mulder and I, added to the stress of being an eight year old doing high school, had had more impact on her than I'd even dreaded. More than she had been able to handle. And frustration over being discussed and analysed but never simply *asked* had been the last straw. Finally, when all the breakables were broken - Josh's collection of model ships the only exclusion; she didn't even consider them for a moment - and every obscenity she knew had been cursed, she fell against me and cried. "I don't want to hear those words again," I murmured gently, but firmly. She nodded, sniffling and sobbing. I picked her up and carried her across to Josh's bed, pushing the curtain of blankets away enough that I could sit on the edge, rocking Astrid gently in my arms. "I don't want to cope anymore," she muttered. "Cope with what?" I prodded gently. I wanted to draw it out of her, hear what she wanted to tell me. I couldn't just assume. Assuming anything was stupid. She sniffled and hiccuped. "Everything." "You might have to be more specific than that, sweetie," I teased oh-so gently. She gave a shaky half-laugh, half-sob. "I hate school." I half-smiled. "I caught that." It had been one of the main things she'd been hysterically shouting about. I tried to sound more serious. "What do you want us to do about it?" She shrugged. "Dunno." "We could hold you back a year or two," I suggested gently, wondering how she'd react. She shook her head violently. "I don't want people thinking I'm stupid," she muttered. I almost laughed. "Sweetie, nobody thinks you're stupid." "I don't want people thinking I can't handle it," she persisted. "You're not handling it." I spoke the blunt truth as gently as I could. She squirmed out of my arms, pushing me away and half-tumbling to the ground. She pulled herself up, hugging herself as she looked at me accusingly. "I was." I understood immediately what she was saying but took a long time thinking through what I wanted to say. "I'm sorry," I said quietly, "that the problems between Daddy and I have hurt you and Josh. I know that it's caused a lot of unhappiness at home and that we've expected more of you than we should have." She was staring at me resentfully and I held out my hands helplessly. "I don't know what more I can say or do, Astrid." "I'm tired of being ignored," she said simply. It broke my heart. I could feel my eyes burning with tears. "I'm so sorry, sweetie." "I know that you and Daddy love Erin heaps and that she needs lots more committment and time and care than we do..." Astrid herself was also now struggling with tears. "But me 'n Joshie can't help feeling rejected." The childishness was back, maybe in her awkwardness in confessing. I reached out and tugged her back into my arms, hugging her fiercely. "I'm so sorry," I whispered. "I'm so sorry that we haven't been good parents." "You think that me n' Josh don't need you any more," Astrid muttered. "But we do." "Then why don't you ever come to us any more?" I demanded shakily. "'Cause Erin needs you more." She sniffled. "And you n' Daddy've got enough problems of your own." - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - MULDER POV - "New family policy," I announced. Scully had given Astrid a piggyback out of the kids' room and now, after a brief discussion with me, she was on the couch with Astrid huddled against her. Josh sat by himself in the armchair, his watchful, even gaze on me. "It's very simple;" I continued. "We tell the truth." I met Astrid's bloodshot eyes but she balked and looked away, burrowing more against Scully. Transferring my gaze to Josh, he also looked away. When I looked at Scully, she half-shrugged. "All right," I tried to sound agreeable. "If nobody else wants to start, Sc- Mom and I will." I glanced again at Scully to check and she gave me a small smile, nodding. "Way overdue for some honesty," she agreed cautiously. They all waited. I stared down at my hands as I tried to figure out how to possibly explain the emotional rollercoaster of the past few weeks. Was it even possible? "Some people say that 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'," I began finally. "And sometimes that's true for Mom and I. But sometimes having that distance between us can get frustrating. Sometimes if we're not around each other as much as normal, we begin to forget how much we really care about each other." I could feel Scully's unhappy, intent gaze on me, but I stared down at my hands. "Mommy took time off work when she was pregnant and when Erin was born, and that was okay, because we were all excited about having her. But I was excited when Mom came back to work, too. Because I love having her by my side there, too. But then when Mom got sick, I guess I was frustrated." I hesitantly looked up to see Scully's reaction to my absolute honesty. Her forehead was creased in a frown but there was a tiny, unhappily grateful smile on her lips. "I missed having her there, and I missed being with her at home, too. But instead of doing what I should have and looked after her, flu be damned, I did something really, really stupid." I paused, reluctant to admit it. "I pulled away." Josh and Astrid were looking at me soberly. Josh was hugging himself tightly. "Mom and I were kinda weird around each other for a while." I wasn't trying to sugarcoat what had happened, but I had no desire to recount everything in graphic detail. And besides, the kids didn't need to hear it. They knew what had gone on. "It was really hard, and we were both really unhappy. We didn't ever mean to hurt you, either of you." "Are you going to get a divorce?" Astrid spoke up, not looking at me. I chuckled quietly. "I hope not." I noticed as Scully smiled sadly to herself. Astrid was still frowning. "But you're still not aligned," she stated. I watched as Scully's tiny smile faded. "No, we're not," I agreed. "We're not perfect. We never will be. But we're working on getting better." Astrid still seemed unconvinced. "You're still going to fight." "Argue, not fight," Scully corrected gently, smoothing Astrid's hair. Astrid turned to look at her accusingly. "What's the difference?" "The difference is that we're not going to let anything get blown out of proportion like this again," I promised. "Don't make promises you can't keep," Josh said quietly. Scully and I both stared at him. I remembered Scully using the exact same words, many years ago. Was it a coincidence? Somehow, I didn't think so. Josh soaked everything up like a sponge. "We've let you down, haven't we, buddy?" I asked quietly. "We've let you both down." He nodded slightly, his hands at his face as if he wanted to hide himself. I glanced over at Astrid, then back at Josh. "I know what it's like to have parents yelling at each other. I know how that can make you hate one of them, maybe both. And I'm sorry that we put you through that." The buzzer on the oven suddenly went and Scully eased herself out of Astrid's grip, shooting me a reassuring glance before heading to the kitchen. Josh immediately moved to the couch, crawling next to Astrid. I didn't speak again until the buzzer cut off. "You're right, we can't guarantee anything. And we probably shouldn't be asking for your trust in us after what's happened. But we don't want you hiding things from us. Especially if we're the ones causing the problem. If we are, it's more important than ever that you tell us, so we can do something about it. We need you guys to keep us in line." Josh and Astrid looked at each other uneasily. Astrid was chewing on her lower lip. She always did that when she was nervous. I waited. "Do you still want us now that you've got Erin?" She almost burst with the question. I was stunned. "Why would you think that we wouldn't?" She looked away, uncertainly. "'Cause we're a hassle. 'Cause you only wanted us in the first place to ...fill the void." "What void?" "Samantha. Emily." Her lower lip trembled. "But we're not them. We're different. And we're... you know, we're not really yours and Mommy's. That makes a difference." Of course it did. But that they could possibly think - "Do you remember when Jacqueline came back?" I asked gently. "If was the first time we'd seen her since they burnt down the compound. She wanted to take you away." They both nodded. "Well... Mommy and I weren't entirely honest with you about that." Scully, dishing out the rice, was watching me with a curious expression. "See, Jacqueline wanted to take you back to live with her, but she knew how much we loved having you two around, so she made us a deal. She said she could help us have a baby of our own if we let you go back with her." The surprise showed in their faces. "You chose us?" Astrid whispered uncertainly. I nodded. "Dinner's ready," Scully called gently, but the kids were focused entirely on me. Astrid's lower lip trembled again and for a moment I thought she was going to cry, but instead she gave me a very shaky smile. "Thank you, Daddy," she whispered. - - - - } - - - - } - - @ t h e x - f i l e s - SCULLY POV - The kids were quiet during dinner, but their moods were far from sedate. Josh kept smiling secretly to himself and it seemed that Astrid was trying desperately not to start bouncing around the room with elation. Mulder and I ourselves were simply tired, exhausted by the long day and the emotions of it. We all helped tidy up Josh and Astrid's bedroom, picking up the shattered articles. She regretted her destructive outburst, I could see, and having to pick up all the pieces had a sobering effect on her. Mulder and I agreed to follow up the emotionally-taxing issues another day and instead let the kids watch TV for the rest of the night. It was late when we tucked them into bed and they were both drowsy. It had been a while since we'd done this, I realised. We'd fallen out of the habit of tucking them in every night - when? Since Erin had been born? Maybe even before that? I couldn't really remember. I regretted having let the habit slip. I could hear Erin crying through the wall as I kissed Astrid goodnight and she sleepily ordered me to check the baby, telling me it sounded like another earache. It turned out that she was right. Ten minutes later the crying had become miserable wailing. I found the medicine in the bathroom cabinet but it seemed to have little effect. For the next three quarters of an hour Mulder and I passed the screaming baby between us, taking turns to get ourselves ready for bed, even though it seemed unlikely we'd have the opportunity to sleep any time soon. My arms dead tired from holding her, I put her in the Snuggli and slipped the pouch on my front, pacing a little. Eventually, maybe the medicine having finally kicked in, the assault on my eardrums lessened as her wails died down into bleating sobs. Thank God. Mulder, freshly showered, offered to take her from me, but I shook my head. "It's okay, I've got her." He nodded, then, hesitantly, held out a hand to me. I looked at him curiously. "Dance with me, Scully," he murmured, smiling shyly. I stared at him, sleepily amused. Amused, but touched. "Okay," I agreed. I couldn't stop a smile growing on my own lips. He drew me against him and I slid my arms around him, resting my head against his chest, careful not to crush Erin between us. But she fitted. We shuffled back and forth together slowly, leaning on each other almost as if propping each other up. "This," I murmured, "is just -" "Like lamaze class?" Mulder finished for me. I laughed quietly as Erin let out a whimper. "She was a lot quieter back then." I sighed contentedly as I felt him brush a kiss across my forehead. "I wish we'd gone to more classes. It was nice to take some time out." That was an understatement. It had been one of the most relaxing, fulfilling experiences of my life. Slowdancing with Mulder, sitting with his arms around me, his hands gently stroking my belly. It had been an incredibly bonding experience. So beautifully intimate, so normal a thing for a couple to do. I was so cozy and comfortable in his arms that, with my eyes closed, I almost fell asleep. "Hey," he murmured gently, drawing me back to semi-awakeness. "I think somebody's asleep." For a brief sleep-muddled moment I thought he was talking about me, then I understood. I drew away from him and he lifted the sleeping baby from the Snuggli, careful not to wake her, and tucked her in the crib. He dropped down into the rocker, exhausted, and closed his eyes. "What's the time?" I glanced at the alarm clock as I pulled the Snuggli off. "Almost twelve." I glanced out through my window before drawing the curtains. "It's raining outside." "Did we finish the case today, or was that yesterday?" He yawned as he spoke and I smiled. "Today." I moved toward him, ruffling his hair and letting my fingers caress his cheek, lingering. "I love you." He opened his eyes, his hand sliding over mine lightly. "I know you do." He gave me a gentle tug, pulling me onto his lap. I smiled at his actions, sliding my arm around his neck. He nuzzled against me, kissing my neck. "I'm glad we've gotten through this, Scully," he murmured. "Getting through this," I corrected. "We still have a lot to sort out." "Yeah, I know." He yawned again, lightly tracing designs on my cheek with a fingertip. "You've still got your guard up, haven't you?" he asked quietly. "Yeah, I guess I have," I answered, eyeing him keenly. I was still thinking through every move, wondering, having doubts. I didn't know how to let my guard down. "But I'm here. I love you. That's enough. For the moment, anyway." I had to try and work on it; I trusted Mulder entirely with my life, but there was a tiny part of me, my conscience maybe, that wouldn't let me give myself entirely to him. It was a promise maybe I shouldn't have made. He murmured in agreement. "For them moment." I slid off him and pulled him to his feet. "C'mon, sleepy. Bedtime." He chuckled, letting me lead him over to the bed. We settled down, not quite touching, but close enough. "You're right," I murmured, recalling our conversation several days earlier. "We do need a bigger place." "We'll look into it," he agreed sleepily. "Another time." He drew me closer against him, his touch careful but more comfortable than it had been for a while. "I'm sorry I've doubted you," I whispered. "I'm sorry I gave you reason to," was his wistful response. I touched his face lightly, tenderly. Rolling onto my stomach so I could look at him, I bent down and kissed him hesitantly. It was the first time we'd attempted interaction of this sort since he'd tried to kiss me the night before, and we both knew how disasterously that had turned out. But this time I got no vivid, disturbing flashes of Mulder beating up a kid. This time it was just a kiss. Not the greatest kiss between us ever, but after the last few days in particular, it was ... nice. Familiar. I pulled back a little and Mulder smiled at me sleepily. "I've missed you," he murmured. "Missed you too." In her crib, Erin let out a series of bleats. "Damn.." "She's fine." Mulder, his fingers caressing the back of my neck, drew me close again. Lips almost touching, I pulled away as Erin whimpered again, this time louder, more insistent. "Sorry." I reluctantly slid off the bed and went over to the crib. It wasn't time for a feed and a quick check revealed that her diaper was still dry. I'd hoped the ear medication would have knocked back the pain but she was now crying again, quietly. "Bring her over," Mulder beckoned, yawning. I obliged, climbing back into bed beside him, Erin in the crook of one arm. Instantly, the crying ceased and she gave me a gummy smile, drool trickling down her chin onto her sleepsuit. "Little brat," I murmured affectionately. She gurgled. "So much for sleep," Mulder remarked with mock-disappointment. He yawned, taking Erin carefully from my arms. "Hey, Monkey." I watched, amused despite my exhaustion. The rain outside was growing louder, now pelting down. I felt pleasantly secure inside. "Really coming down out there," Mulder observed. He'd wandered to the window and pushed the curtains apart to look out. A bolt of lightning shot through the sky and I smiled as he tried to draw Erin's attention to it. "Hey, kiddo, look at that." More lightning followed, each matched with a subsequent roll of thunder in the distance. Mulder stayed at the window, staring out, talking to Erin as she gazed at the outside world with curious eyes. I loved the fact that, despite how tired he was, he was eager to take time out with his daughter. Our daughter. The coziness of the situation only grew as the storm increased outside. The gales howled, the lightning whipcracked and the thunder rumbled - it was the culmination of the day's darkening skies and sharp winds. And I was safe from it all, esconsed in my own world. I heard a floorboard creak and, straining my ears to listen, the faintest scraps of whispering outside the bedroom door. I smiled to myself, sliding out of bed and pulling the bedroom door open. Josh and Astrid were hovering there in their pajamas, grinning apprehensively. "C'mon in." I shooed them in, smiling reassuringly. After the recent events, I wasn't surprised that they'd want to analyse the mood before barging in. Astrid grinned, giving me a quick hug before pushing past to throw herself with a giggle on the bed, where she and Josh proceeded to wrestle. Any stormy night gave them an excuse to come running in, shrieking about the scary thunder, and then keep us up all night with giggles and squirming, kicking cold feet. They loved it. They seemed to cherish it now more than ever. It had been a while since the last thunderstorm, the last excuse to act childish and dependant. "If you're not asleep in ten minutes, you're outta here," Mulder threatened as he returned Erin to her crib. But, as usual, nobody took his threat seriously. The kids giggled. In the end it was over half an hour of jostling and whispering and fake-snoring before the kids finally fell asleep. They slept between us. Astrid's head was resting on Mulder's chest and pinning him down. He looked at me pitifully as he tried unsuccessfully to squirm out from under her. I shrugged, giving him a smile. "Still sleepy?" He considered it, then shook his head. "Not really." "Me neither," I admitted, smiling. The kids' energy had awakened some of my own. I was too alert now to sleep, too re-energised. Mulder tried again to ease himself out from under Astrid but I reached out, touching his arms with just my fingertips. "Stay here." He raised an eyebrow, querying. "Let's just have some quiet time, huh?" A curious recollection dawned in his eyes as he remembered the last time we'd just sat together in silent understanding. He nodded. Propping myself up on my elbow, I stared at him, allowing myself a smile as I saw his rumpled hair, an old scar just below the hairline from a case long ago, the bleached patches on his t-shirt after he'd helped Josh with a science project. His past, our life, our family; everything was etched in him; the struggles and the uncertainties and the laughter and the love. It was a moment so tremendous in its simplicity. Gazing back at me, he smiled. fin.