TITLE:  The Genesis Project VII 
AUTHOR:  aRcaDIaNFall$ 
FEEDBACK:  arcadianfalls@yahoo.com.au. 
RATING:  PG-13 
SPOILERS: none I recall 
CLASSIFICATION: SRA, M&S married, kidfic, parallel universe 
DISTRIBUTION: Gossamer, Ephemeral, any other sort of archive is fine.
Personal sites please ask first. 
SUMMARY: Jacqueline discovers a truth that Mulder and Scully can't deny
and which brings them all together once again. Under one roof, tempers
flare, mistakes are made, and Mulder and Scully discover that there is
no erasing the scars of the past and no assurance that things will ever
get easier. 
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic swaps character POVs every part. I apologise
for wallowing in angst like this. *g* 
This fic and the rest of the series can be found at
http://www.geocities.com/arcadianfalls/ 
  
  

The Genesis Project VII 
by aRcaDIaNFall$ 
  

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- JACQUELINE POV - 

A marriage certificate and two autopsy results. 
It was all Ethan Ross and Will Haversham, employees of the LC
Guggenheim private detection firm I'd been paying out of my own
slowly-dwindling savings to investigate my parents' pasts, had been
able to find for me.  
The autopsies had been incredibly thorough - whether all homocide
investigations required this or it was somehow pushed by somebody with
the project, I didn't know - and I felt I was rediscovering my parents,
in a morbid sort of way. It had been a long time since I'd really tried
to picture them, and now I held in my hands intimate details that
evoked startlingly real pictures in my mind; not just their height and
weight and eye colour but the scarring across Roger's knuckles and the
missing toe on his left foot and the tiny scar beside his eye, from a
high-school injury that had left him partially blinded. And Cate, too,
with her long dark hair and slim tallness. She had always been
graceful, untouchable, and yet she seemed to have an enormous amount of
scars and unexplained wounds that led me to wonder if she'd been
abused, either by Roger or as a child. She had scars on her neck, her
back, her abdomen, behind her knees. X-rays had revealed a bone broken
long ago, and I wondered briefly if that would help us track down her
origins.  
If she'd been abused, especially with bones broken, she would have
hospital records, I surmised.  

But, on discovering listing of 'an unidentified foreign object
implanted at the base of the neck', the child abuse theory vanished
from my mind. 
Whoever had been abusing Cate had not been of this world. 
  

I rang Ethan Ross, who told me that he had been unable to trace any
sort of implant removed during the autopsy - as the report clearly
detailed, but suggested that whoever had disappeared the originals of
the autopsy reports had done the same to the removed implant. Ross
reminded me that he had been able to find only a duplicate made by the
medical-examiner, a stickler for tradition who had insisted on using a
typewriter and filing away a carbon copy in his own personal files. 
I thanked him and hung up, pulling closer to me the two faxed pages
that briefly summarised Roger and Cate's lives. I knew of their lives
together, thanks to Roger's father and my own past with them, and I
knew every detail of Roger's past, of his childhood and education and
fascination with microbiology and then later genetics. I knew of their
marriage, traced lightly with my fingertip the photocopied wedding
certificate, with nineteen year old Cate's Kendall's flowing signature
disrupted by bloated ink spots where the fountain pen had leaked. I had
even learned how they had met, how they had worked together, how the
intelligence and maturity she displayed at seventeen had rivalled that
which he possessed at thirty-one. I knew I even looked as she had
twenty years ago, and that was a chilling thought to face. 

But I knew nothing of Cate prior to then, when she suddenly entered
Roger Moss' life. And for a month, that missing piece had been driving
me mad. Who was she? 

Ross and Haversham had already started ammassing old medical records, I
knew, to see if they could find a match, and Haversham had promised me
they were only a day or two away from finalising a shortlisting of all
the unsolved missing persons reports - runaways and abductions born
between nineteen sixty-two and sixty-five - that matched hair and eye
colour and blood type. They'd started on the East Coast and promised
once they had narrowed that down as far as possible they would research
all the names on the list, comparing past medical records with the
autopsy reports and hopefully come up with a match.  
I'd asked them to fax me the information and let me do that - if there
was an answer to be found, I felt I should be the one to find it.  
They'd promised me a shortlisting and corresponding medical records
finished by today, couriered air-mail by the end of the week, Thursday
at the earliest. It was only Tuesday and already I was antsy with
anticipation. I didn't know how I was going to last. 
  

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- MULDER POV -  

"A haunted house?" She gave me that long-perfected stare of skepticism,
the slightest smile curving her lips, the amused light dancing in her
eyes. After a long day of meetings and paperwork it seemed such a
suggestion was on par with settling down to watch a black and white
horror movie. "Seriously?" 

"Would I jest?" 

She smiled more fully at my quip. Perky Scully was making an
appearance. "I should have known. So, tell me more." 

I settled into my desk chair, stretching my legs, resting my heels on
the edge of the desk before me, the case file resting, open, against my
legs. "Firstly, it's not a haunted *house*, it's a family run
guesthouse, formally known as the 'Golden Retreats Guesthouse'. And
there's been over three dozen recorded sightings of this particular
ghost ever since the guesthouse was built twenty years ago." 

"People saw the ghost?" The skepticism was back in full force. 

"Well, not exactly," I confessed. "But there's been some pretty
irrefutable proof of a presence in the house. China breaking, furniture
being moved around, bathtubs mysteriously found full of water, rooms in
disarray... " 

"Not just badly-behaved guests?" she suggested innocently. "Mulder,
Casper the friendly ghost isn't an x-file." 

"That's because Casper never killed anybody." 

"Somebody has died?" There was a more professional note in her voice
now; she wasn't just listening, she was paying attention.  

"According to the owners of the guest-house, the ghost has been there
since the built the place, pulling practical jokes, of sorts, on the
family and guests. But over the past year or so the attacks have been
getting more violent - guests have been scratched, slapped, choked,
their hair cut, their clothes destroyed, objects falling or flying past
and almost crushing them. One guest was hospitalized with a case of
mild arsenic poisoning." 

"Arsenic?" Scully echoed. 

"Yeah. Painful." 

"But that's not the death you mentioned?" 

I shook my head. "No, the man killed died of a heart attack. He was-" 

"Frightened to death," she finished. She cocked an eyebrow. 

"You said it, not me." 

"Okay." She shifted in her chair. "Do we have any idea who this
haunting entity is?" 

I held up a pamphlet advertising the guesthouse, an old-world style,
gabled building. "According to this, the ghost is a young woman who was
found murdered twenty-five years ago on the land where the house now
stands." 

"They don't give a name?" 

I grinned at her. "That would make it too easy to disprove." 

She frowned. "Well, the first thing we should do is look up the
veracity of the claim." 

"We can do that there." I stood. "I booked us two flights to Milwaukee.
We leave in two hours." 
  

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- SCULLY POV - 

Astrid launched a protest when we told her of our new case - she didn't
normally mind out of town cases because it meant she and Josh and Erin
stayed with Mom, and she spoiled them rotten. But she was vocally
against being dragged from her pet project of the moment, the
decoration of her new room.  
To be honest, I wouldn't have minded a couple more days at home just to
finish unpacking all of our boxes, so that we could finally put the
strain of the move behind us. Until we moved again, that was, and who
knew when that would happen. We hadn't succeeded in finding a house and
had settled for a four-bed-two-bath apartment. The rooms were smaller,
the kitchen unnecessarily large, but overall it was sufficient for us.
There was a strip of grass masquerading as a front lawn, no backyard
but a park a block away. Mulder was trying to get permission to put up
a basketball hoop. 

"I don't think Josh likes his new room," I murmured, digging my chin
into Mulder's shoulder.  
We were waiting at the airport - waiting an hour and a half after our
flight should have departed. It had been delayed, twice, due to
aircraft maintenance. I never liked the sound of that. Who wanted to
fly on a plane that had just been glued back together again? 

"Too much light," Mulder agreed. 

Josh had chosen the smallest room, one with only a small window, but
still kept the lights off and the curtains closed, only his reading
lamp on. What was it about the darkness he liked so much? I wondered. 

Mulder shrugged slightly. "He'll grow out of it." 
  

We touched down in Milwaukee just past eight, stopping for a quick
dinner in one of the airport restaurants before picking up a hire car.
I was tired - the meetings we'd been forced to attend and then the
delays and flight had left me feeling lethargic and overtired, and I
must have fallen asleep only a few minutes into the two hour drive,
because the next thing I knew I was being carried by Mulder, lifted out
of my seat and awkwardly tucked into a motel bed, shoes and all. I
vaguely remember protesting the action and Mulder's teasing lips
grazing across mine, silencing me, and then I let the snug comfort of
sleep swallow me up.  

He was talking when I woke up again and I wondered for a brief moment
if he was talking to me, not sure whether it was still night or early
morning. He was chuckling, moving around the dark room as he talked,
and I watched him, curious of how unaware he seemed of me despite the
fact that he was pacing in a rough semi-circle around the bed. 
"Yeah, she'll be breaking world-records before you know it... Astrid
wants to talk? Sure, put her on. Hey, kiddo... Nah, Mommy's asleep. She
likes her sleep. You should be in bed, too, kiddo. It's late. How you
doing? Everything's okay? Grandma says Erin's getting hard to keep up
with..." He turned, discovering my gaze on him. "Oh, hey, Mom's awake
again. You want to speak to her? Not now? Okay, put Josh on..." 

The warmth of affection I felt for him rivalled the blissful comfort of
the bed and I smiled at him, feeling a little groggy, I didn't know
why. Maybe just sleepy. I hadn't been sleeping so great lately. He blew
me a kiss and I chuckled sleepily. 

He was talking to Josh, and from what I gathered they were talking
about Erin. She'd stood alone at only ten and a half months and took
her first few tottering steps a few days later. Within a week she'd
given up crawling for good and by her first birthday she was talking
too, the same nonsensical words over and over. She'd never been a noisy
baby but now she seemed as talkative as I imagined a baby Astrid had
been. Josh and Astrid only seemed more doting than ever. She was such a
delightful child to be around. It was ... a comfort. I felt very
comfortable, very safe. 

Mulder hung up and I reached out to him. He took my hand curiously,
sitting on the edge of the bed. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing's wrong," I assured him. 

He frowned. "You're looking a little flushed." 

"Just cozy," I told him. Though, I acknowledged, it was a little too
much to have the covers up over me. It was summer, after all. I kicked
them back, tugging him closer. He'd already taken off his jacket and
tie and his sleeves were rolled up. I eased the shirtbuttons undone,
sliding the shirt off him, delighting in the sensation of his muscles
rippling under my familiar, roving fingers. 

Sex wasn't on my mind, though Mulder probably assumed it was, I thought
as he kissed me. I just wanted a little affection. I was still half
asleep and I think he realised that, toning down his kisses, settling
down beside me, arms encircling me in that possessive, protective way
of his, gently kissing the back of my neck, whispering something about
me being a tease. I smiled, letting him hold me, nuzzle against me.
God, I loved him.  

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- JACQUELINE POV - 

"Spread it *thinly*," Grae had yelled over his shoulder to me, trudging
over the frost-covered grass. It had crunched under his boots. "She
won't eat it otherwise!" 

I'd shooed him away, a little annoyed he thought I was so incompetent
that I couldn't even make Ebony breakfast. Admittedly, it was the first
time - he made her breakfast every morning, without fail, unless he was
in Sydney, or else Ebony made it herself. But this morning she was busy
putting together a jigsaw puzzle and didn't want to go down to the
cowsheds with him, and I didn't see any reason why she should have to
wait until he came back - why couldn't I do it myself? Vegemite on
toast was hardly rocket science. 

The toast popped up and I spread margarine on both pieces, then spread
vegemite - *thinly* - on one piece, sliced both into triangular
quarters and took the plateful into Ebony as she sat working at the
dining room table in her Pokemon pajamas. The TV was on but she wasn't
watching it. She only glanced up at me as I put the plate down beside
her puzzle pieces, patting her unruly, unbrushed hair lightly. 

I made myself oatmeal, liberally sprinkling it with brown sugar, and
sat to eat it in the kitchen. I felt oddly detatched, lethargic, but my
stomach was so knotted with anxiety I couldn't finish the bowl. Ethan
Ross had promised me the files would arrive by this afternoon - they
were being couriered over. Why couldn't they just have faxed or
e-mailed them, I wondered, frustrated. But I knew why - there was too
much information. It would have taken forever to scan it all in and
send it over. This was logical.  

I went to check on Ebony and found she had abandoned the puzzle and was
now curled up in one of the armchairs, watching some kids show on TV.
The toast plate had been pushed aside, the margarine quarters eaten,
but all four vegemite quarters remaining. 

"Hey, Ebony?" I bent down in front of her. "You didn't finish your
breakfast." 

But she shook her head, pulling a face and pushing the plate away. 

"What's wrong with them?" I asked, getting a little annoyed. The
toaster always burnt one crust of the toast but she never complained
about it, and she'd eaten the other piece. "Ebs? Why won't you eat
them?" 

She didn't answer me, she just looked away. I didn't like the way she
would always do that to me - she wouldn't connect with me in the way
she did with Grae. I went back to the kitchen. 
  

"She wouldn't eat it," I complained to Grae when he returned, shoving
the plate in his face. 

"I'm not surprised," he answered calmly, amused. "You only need a
quarter of that." 

I clamped my teeth together, trying not to get mad. It was near
impossible, thanks to the stress I felt and the havoc my hormones were
playing on my body. I turned away, tossing the toast in the trash and
dumping the dirty plate in the sink.  

"You've never tasted Vegemite, have you?" Grae wrapped his arms around
me, picking up the butterknife and dipping it in the jar, bringing it
up to my face. "Try it." 

Unwillingly, I scooped up the dark brown gob with my fingertip, then
licked my finger. Then, revolted, I spat it back out into the sink,
pulling a face. "That's disgusting." I pumped liquid soap onto my hand
and scrubbed at my fingers, trying to get rid of all the oily sheen on
my skin. 

Shaking his head, he chuckled, amused. He always seemed amused by me
these days, I thought rebelliously. He was treating me like a child,
almost condescendingly. It was maddening. 

"I'm going to go have a shower," I told him, pushing him away from me
so that I could pass.  

In the bathroom, I switched on the heater and slumped on the old wooden
chair that sat in the corner of the room, scratching at the peeling
lemon-coloured paint as I waited for the room to heat up before I
stripped off my heavy winter pajamas. Summer here had been fine, but
winter here was miserable, cold and dull. I missed my apartment's
central heating, the modern luxuries of the place. I wished that I
didn't have to rely on strangers to do all the research, that I wasn't
so far away from everything, from my own life. I was half an hour from
the nearest hospital, three hours from the state's specialist OB-GYNs.
That was a frightening thought, and I don't think even Grae appreciated
how scared I was. I had no idea how my body would handle childbirth; I
hadn't been designed to reproduce in such a primitive way. He didn't
understand that. He treated my stories of my past with a bemused sort
of disbelief, as if I were just a child telling tales. I was scared,
and I wanted somebody who would understand that. I wished Dana and Fox
were here. 
  

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- SCULLY POV - 

"I'm afraid Mel is still asleep," Anita Redburg told us apologetically.
"She was in a school play last night and the party afterward went quite
late. I didn't want her to go but... well, she was the lead role. I
could hardly stop her. And teenagers need their sleep, you know. But
she's the one to talk to about our ghost. She was the first of us to
... well, 'make contact', as they say." She smiled. 

Mulder pounced. "She's actually made contact with the entity?" 

"Oh yes," she answered matter-of-factly. "When she was little - only
three or four, perhaps, she would spend all day playing teaparties and
with her dolls up in her bedroom, and one day she came and asked me for
some cookies and juice for herself and her friend. At first we thought
it was just an imaginary friend - I watched them playing teaparties
together. But then I saw a teacup lift, all by itself, as if somebody
invisible were holding it, and then it tipped forward, and the juice
spilled over the carpet. And I heard giggling - Mel was giggling, but
it sounded to my ears like *two* voices, Mel's and an older voice, an
older girl's giggle." 

I glanced at Mulder; he was absorbed in the story. What a surprise. 

"And she's made contact since?" he prompted. 

"Not so often, these days. I think she feels she's a little old to be
playing with ghosts. Teenagers get funny about these things, you know.
But over the years there's been at least a dozen times I've caught her
with Mina, -" 

"Mina?" Mulder interrupted. 

Mrs Redburg chuckled. "You know, from Dracula. Melissa named her. Not
that there's any connection to vampires or anything, but Mel was into
all those things - aliens and government coverups and whatnot. But
she's outgrown all that, too. I guess they do." 

"Usually," I agreed, poker-faced. I threw Mulder a teasing smile.
Hiding a smile of his own, he ignored me. There was a dynamic current
between us, a liveliness and complete compactability that I felt this
strongly only fleetingly. It wasn't just flirting - it was as if,
somehow, our entire beings were in alignment. Perfect alignment.  

"So how are you usually alerted to "Mina's" presence?" 

"Well, originally - way back when we built the house, I mean - it was
just simple things: china breaking, doors coming unlocked, mirrors
fogging up, footprints on the lawn in the morning in winter. We didn't
dream that it was a ghost; it was a new house and there were still
builders and handymen coming in and out all day. But then some things
happened that we couldn't explain so easily - I walked out of a room
once, and when I walked back in again five minutes later all the
furniture had been rearranged. Nobody had been in there in my absence -
I knew that because they would have had to have passed by me to get in.
I couldn't explain it at all. Then the incident happened with Mel and
as silly as the idea of a ghost seemed - because the house was only
five or six years old - it *did* explain everything that had been going
on." 

"How often did these visitings happen?" This was like Christmas to
Mulder, I could see. 

"It really varied. There were a lot of things that went on with all our
guests that may have been Mina; personal items moved around their
rooms, shoes or socks missing, hot water cutting out while they were
showering. We try not to attribute everything that goes wrong around
here to the poor girl, but so many of our guests are here only because
of her and so they don't mind quite so much... Some of them actually
seem quite delighted." 

"But would you say the presence was regular or more spasmodic?" 

She considered it. "She was usually around to pull at least one or two
pranks a week, though sometimes she'd disappear for days or even weeks
on end. Once she was gone for over a month and we thought she'd left us
forever. Over the past couple of years she's been more active. And
lately, of course, she's... well, -" 

"Progressed beyond mischief to causing harm," Mulder finished. "Have
you kept any sort of documentation of visitations?" 

Mrs Redburg nodded, rising and fetching a thick ledger-type book from
the top of the filing cabinet. "This is our witnesses book - we
encourage any guests who believe they've seen her or somehow witnessed
her presence to write up a brief summary of her activities." 

I reached out to take the book from her, flipping it open on the table
in front of Mulder and I and skimming through. There were pages upon
pages of entries, all in different hands, some dated the same or
following day as the one before it. Each entry listed the witnesses
name and home address, description of the 'activities witnessed', and
the witness' signature as if it were a legal document.  
Flipping nearer to the end of the book, the reports we read sounded
less like childish pranks and more like juvenile delinquency. Painting
on walls, guests attacked, their personal papers set alight... 

"There was an article about our ghost in the local paper and one of the
bigger papers bought the story. Since then we've been getting a lot of
skeptics and ghosthunters staying here - over the past year they've
become almost the only guests we get - sometimes, like now, we don't
have anybody staying. People are just too afraid. It's not so good for
business and with Mel going to college next year David - that's my
husband - has had to get a second job. But with all the skeptics we've
been getting, none of them yet have been able to explain Mina away." 

An entry on one of the pages caught my attention. In large, excited
capitals was the statement, "I SAW HER!!!" It was underlined heavily,
and following was the description of a young dark haired woman who he
had followed through the house at night until she had walked through a
wall and disappeared. 'She smiled at me, teasing me, and then she took
a step back, right through the wall, and she was gone.' 

I pointed it out to Mulder. "That's two witness reports of actually
seeing the ghost herself," he mused. "Mrs Redburg, this Rodney Holloway
- do you remember him?" 

"Roddy? Oh yes. He stayed here for almost a month. Only a young man -
practically still a boy. Actually, I think he had some sort of crush on
Melissa. The two of them spent an awful lot of time together when he
was here. It was school vacation, of course, so Melissa and her sister
were at home." 

"Do you believe his testimony?" I spoke up. 

"Well, I have no reason to doubt it. He was a very earnest young man,
and so very excited when he did finally see her. That night he and
Melissa talked for hours about her. That was when she was going through
her 'believer' phase - they were both keen on all that supernatural -"
She jumped - we all did - at a high-pitched shriek from above us.  

I reached for my weapon, rising from the table. "What was that?"  

Anita Redburg looked a little frightened. "That sounded like Melissa." 

"Mommmmm!" A figure came flying down the stairs. "Mom! Mom!!" Shrieking
in pure terror, she stopped still when she saw us, holding out her
hands helplessly, wide-eyed and whimpering. 

She was maybe seventeen or eighteen, her blonde hair matted from sleep,
tears trickling her smudged mascara down her cheeks. At first glanced
I'd thought she was wearing long winter pajamas, but then I realised
that she was wearing only boxer shorts and a matching camisole, and
that the black markings I'd taken for a fabric pattern were some sort
of scribbling on her skin. 

"Mom??" She seemed to ignore us, hands held out entreatingly to her
mother, pleading. "Mom? What did she do to me?" 

Mrs Redburg seemed to snap out of her stunned state and reached out to
her daughter. "You're not hurt, are you Melly? She didn't hurt you?" 

I took a step forward, trying to see if the girl had actually been
injured. "What happened?" 

Melissa had pulled away from her mother and was rubbing crazily at the
scribbling on her arms, slapping at it as if it were insects crawling
over her. It smudged under her hands, coming off on her fingers. I
reached out to grab her hands to stop her. "My name's Dana. We're with
the FBI. What happened to you, Melissa?" 

She was shaking and pulled away from me, backing up against her mother.
"I was asleep... Just sleeping in, you know. And then when I woke up I
had this -" She shivered, a kneejerk reaction. "I had this stuff all
over me..." 
  

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- MULDER POV -  

I left Scully to examine the girl for any other injuries and went up to
her bedroom. The bed was unmade, the covers thrown back in a hurry. It
was a girl's bedroom, the walls a creamy colour, the curtains and
bedspread a matching pink, posters up on the walls, a desk with a stack
of textbooks - although, admittedly, less than Josh or Astrid had. And
yet, something troubled me about the room.  
I glanced over the objects on the desk, a collection of knick-knacks,
snowglobes, stamps, pens and coloured markers. And, tossed casually on
top of some Derwents was a thick whiteboard marker. I grabbed a tissue
from the box on the desk and picked up the marker, carefully taking off
the top to check the colour. It was black, with a thick point. I
glanced around. There was no whiteboard in the room. 

"Mulder?" I pocketed the marker, turning to face Scully as she stood in
the doorway. Melissa stood behind her, arms folded protectively,
supported by her mother. Scully gestured and I followed her out and
down the stairs. 

"How's the girl?" I asked once we were out of hearing range. 

"She'll be fine. It's not permanent marker; she's going to have a quick
shower to wash it off and then come talk to us once she's calmed down."

"Whiteboard marker." I produced it. "Found it in her bedroom. What did
the writing on her say?" 

"It looked like a poem." 

"A poem?" I echoed. 

"Yeah." She pulled out a small notepad and read out to me, "It was just
fragments, though: 'The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan'... 'Then can
I drown an eye'... 'When to the session of sweet silent thought I
summon up rememberance of things past' ... "For precious friends hid in
death's dateless night....' 'But if the while I think on thee, dear
friend, all losses are restored'..." 

I frowned, trying to piece together the fragments. "Sounds like a
sonnet. Shakespeare, maybe." 

"That's what I thought. We should check it out." 
  

Mrs Redburg returned downstairs, still a little shaken. "I'm sorry
about all that... It's the first time Mina has attacked anybody in our
family," she explained apologetically. "We never dreamed she'd touch
Mel." 

She showed us the whiteboard in the dining room used for putting daily
menus up on, but couldn't recall when she'd last seen the marker. "We
haven't had guests for over a week, so there's been no need." 

"Mrs Redburg, would Melissa or anybody in the family be likely to have
any poetry books around the house?" 

"Poetry?" She stared at us, puzzled. "You think the writing all over
Melly was poetry? I don't really see -" 

"It sounded like a sonnet," I pushed. "It could have been Shakespeare."

"We have an old volume of Shakespeare in the library but I don't think
there's any sonnets, only the plays... Melly! Are you feeling okay now,
honey?" 

Melissa, now fully dressed, all scribblings vanished from her bare arms
and legs, smiled tolerantly. She looked composed, but I could see the
strain. 

"I'm fine, Mom. You go have a coffee or something - you're falling
apart over this." 

"Honey, you were attacked!" her mother protested. "You were distraught
-" 

"I was a little hysterical," Melissa admitted calmly. "I just didn't
expect Mina to do that. But it was just a joke, I know that now. She
wouldn't hurt me." 

"Melly -" 

How had this woman lived for twenty years in a house with a ghost, I
wondered. Her nerves seemed shot to pieces. But then, I supposed, such
an environment would affect anybody, eventually. 

"Mom doesn't normally get so freaked about these things," Melissa
explained, watching as her mother left the room. "She used to joke
about Mina all the time, just with the rest of us. But it's getting
harder for her to treat it as a joke. She and Dad put so much time into
this place. They devoted their lives to it." The was a note of
bitterness in her voice that didn't escape me. 

"Your mom says you talk to her," Scully spoke up. "Can you actually see
her?" 

"Yeah, sure I can." She shrugged, then broke out in a smile. "'I see
dead people,' to quote. It's not scary or anything. We're just...
friends." 

"Do you know her name?" 

"She won't tell me. I think she likes Mina." 

"Nobody has tried to find out?" 

"Nobody to ask. This area was just farmland before my parents built
here," she explained. "There were fires a couple of years earlier that
destroyed most of the local town. Everybody had to rebuild... most of
the original community left. It was the third natural disaster in a
matter of years   and they'd all just had enough. When Mina turned up
here Mom and Dad tried to find out who she was but there was nobody
left with a firsthand account. It had become almost an urban legend -
the tragic story of a young life cruelly cut short," she added
dramatically. "People say she was stranged, others say her throat was
slit. It's what bedtime stories are made of, huh?" 

"Huh," I agreed. I heard a knocking sound from behind us and turned,
jumping in my seat. There was a face at the window, only a glimpse and
then it vanished. I murmured an excuse and jumped up, running to the
window. I couldn't see anybody outside. I went out through the front
door, running around the corner of the house. Nobody. I jogged around
the house entirely, checking the carport. Still nothing. Then, glancing
back over my shoulder I saw, only out of the corner of my eye, a figure
slip around the corner. I chased after, finding myself in a vegetable
patch. Anita Redburg was kneeling, weeding, maybe, and stared at me. 

"Something wrong?" She started to rise, brushing her hands off. 

"There was a girl... A dark-haired young girl..." The image of her
watchful face pressed against the window rose up in my mind. Dark hair,
and grey-blue eyes, long lashes, a childish shyness in the way she held
herself. Somehow it was the childishness that stayed firmly in my mind.

She smiled. "I think you must be seeing our ghost, Mr Mulder." 
  

Scully was waiting for me by the car. "Where'd you go, Mulder?" 

"I saw her," I told her slowly, not really believing my own eyes. "I
saw the ghost." 

She stared at me. "You saw the ghost," she repeated, disbelieving. 

"She looked real, Scully - solid. But I could see right through her.
She just stared at me with these wide eyes..." 

"Mulder -" 

"I saw her," I insisted. Why wouldn't Scully simply believe me? Because
it was clear that she didn't. "She was running away from me and... then
she disappeared." 

"How was it that you could see her when only two other people ever
have?" she reasoned. 

Her need for logic irrationally frustrated me. "I can't explain it!" 

She touched my arm gently, as if to say - let's not fight, let's not
get emotional. "C'mon, let's get going." 

"Where?" 

"Local field office to get fingerprint analysis on the marker you
found." 

"You think our ghost left fingerprints?" 

"It's a process of elimination," she allowed. "Nothing more." She
reached out to tug my hand, running her thumb over mine before
releasing me again. "Let's go." 

I took one glance up at the house, and was startled to see a face
staring out through one of the upper windows, watching us. But it was
only Melissa Redburg - she gave us a small smile and waved. I nodded
uneasily, climbing into the car. Something I didn't understand was
happening and somehow I had become a key player. 

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

- SCULLY POV - 

There were no fingerprints on the marker; it had been wiped clean. This
lent credence to a hoax theory I'd been silently fostering, but
Mulder's response to the news had simply been that ghosts didn't leave
fingerprints. And, still, he was insisting that he had seen something. 

"It was just a natural hologram, Mulder," I told him, trying to be
gentle. "Recorded and played back by mechanisms of the brain we don't
yet understand, triggered by something you saw or heard or even
smelt... We were looking for a ghost and you wanted to see her. So you
did." 

"No," he protested yet again, "I saw her." But I sensed that his
conviction was dwindling.  
It hadn't been my aim to make him doubt himself, I just wanted him to
see it from all logical angles, as always. 

On a hunch of Mulder's we borrowed a computer at the lab and hunted
online for the poem scribed on Melissa's skin. It turned out that we
were right - it was a sonnet by William Shakespeare, one of his many
about love and friendship. But we didn't understand its significance. 

"Somebody at the guesthouse must have accessed it, right? If somebody
looked it up on the internet there'd be some sort of history of the
page access -" 

"This isn't a hoax, Scully." 

"How do you know that?" 

"Who's hoaxing us, then?" He stared at me, eyes dark, voice quiet but
almost dangerous, the way he always did when he was passionate about an
argument. "The mother? The daughter?" 

I had to admit that neither of those seemed likely. They had both
seemed genuinely frightened by the morning's incident. And yet... an
idea sparked in my mind. 

"Listen, we'll just check at the guesthouse tomorrow, okay?" I
pacified. I didn't want to be on his bad side. 

He nodded - a truce. We had a silent dinner at a local restaurant and
went back to our motel. My final thought as I fell asleep, as I lay on
my side of the bed and he on his, was a hope that things would be
better between us tomorrow. 
  

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

- JACQUELINE POV - 

"Jacqueline Moss?"  

I pushed past Grae to greet the courier. "That's me." I reached out for
the package but a clipboard was pushed into my hands.  

"You have to sign this first," he said respectfully, proffering a pen.
I took it, scrawled my signature where he indicated and gripped it the
bulky package he handed me, wishing him a good morning although it was
already afternoon. 

"Hang on..." Grae grabbed my arm as I pushed back past him. "Calm down
a bit, ay?" 

"This is important," I told him, annoyed at the interference. 

"I know it is," he agreed mildly, "But you still need to breathe. Take
it easy, okay?" 

"I'm fine," I told him. I dropped the package on the dining room table,
pushing aside Ebony's puzzles and paper and pencils, and went in search
of a knife. There was a stanley knife in one of the kitchen drawers and
I used it to slice the packaging open, withdrawing a bundle of files. I
ripped through the string tying the bundle up and tore off the
waterproofing plastic. Pushing all the wrappings aside, I sat down and
pulled the pile of papers toward me. My heart was pounding and I knew I
was overanxious, overexcited, and that Grae was right, I needed to calm
myself down. I had to take my time and work through it all to come up
with the right answer. Or maybe there wouldn't even be an answer to be
found. It wouldn't be my first disappointment. But, above all, I had to
calm down. 

I braced my hands against the edge of the table and closed my eyes. I
had to get my breathing under control, slow my heartrate, find enough
calm and patience. It might have been two, even three minutes I sat
there, still and silent, only my heartbeat echoing in my ears. Then,
slowly, I lifted the cover sheet off, and began to read.  
  

"How's it going?" 

Not taking my eyes from the page, I held up a hand to shoo him away.
"Not now," I told him shortly, not looking to see him leave. My mind
was reeling from the two words I'd just read, a name buried within the
final shortlisting of names. An all-too familiar name. "Oh my God..." I
whispered. My head literally felt as though it were spinning and I put
my hands to it, feeling the vein pulsing in my temple.  

My fingers were cold, clammy and sweaty, shaking as I hunted through
the bundle of papers. I couldn't leap to conclusions, I knew, but God
it was hard not to, because it was too terrible to be anything but
true. I sorted through the medical records, forcing myself to study
each one agonizingly before eliminating it. But when I reached *her*
record there was nothing I could fault. I picked up the autopsy report
of Cate and held it in one hand, the medical file in the other. Blood
type and eyes and hair - matched. A long ago broken collarbone -
matched. Old scar on left leg from a fall, stitches needed - matched. 

I sat back with dawning horror, nausea threatening, trying to
comprehend what I'd discovered, trying to believe that this wasn't just
some terrible dream or mistake... But it wasn't. It all fitted too
well, too terribly.  
Samantha Mulder's fate had been discovered at last. 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

"Dana?"  

It was Jacqueline, and she sounded upset. What had Graham done now? I
wondered drearily.  
"What is it?" 

"I'm sorry ... I know it's the middle of the night... but it's
important. It couldn't wait til morning." 

"What's wrong, Jacqui? Is it -" 

"It's not Graham," she said quickly. There was a sob, and then she
blurted out, "It's her. I found her..." 

"Who? Found who?" 

"Samantha..." 
  

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

- MULDER POV - 

I was jerked awake by Scully's persistent shaking. "What?" I grumbled.
But then I saw her grave eyes and my insides sank, a numbed sort of
chill prickling my skin. "What is it?" 

She stared at me with horror-stricken agony. "Mulder..." she whispered,
but it seemed to stick in her throat. "Oh, God, Mulder..." 

Christ, the kids. Erin? Had something happened to Erin? 

I painfully swallowed the lump rising in my throat. "The kids -?" I
managed.  

She shook her head. "No. The kids are fine." 

Relief flooded through me, but only briefly before I felt my throat
tighten up again in terror. "So... what is it? What happened?" 

The tears in her eyes shone in the light and she stared at me with
almost unvoiceable empathy. "Jacqueline rang," she managed, her voice
strained.  

Something had happened to Graham? To Ebony? No, neither of those things
could upset Scully so much. Just tell me, Scully. For Christ's sake,
just *tell* me. I'll go mad.  

She reached out to take my hands, but then pulled away again so she
could touch my face, her fingers trembling, hands moving feverishly. I
caught them in my own hands, holding them against my lips, my gaze
locked on her face with such terrible anticipation.  
"Jacqui was researching, trying to find out her mother's past, and she
found a match, Mulder... She found a match in Samantha." 
  

For a long moment I couldn't even breathe, couldn't process the
thought, couldn't feel Scully's hands that caressed my face
comfortingly, couldn't hear the comforts she was whispering. The
numbness was just overwhelming. Scully's words echoed around in my
brain, bouncing in my skull like some crazy pinball machine. She found
a match in Samantha. She found a match in Samantha... 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

He just sat there, still, as if the light inside him had suddenly burnt
out. I hated desperately that I had to be the one to break the news to
him, felt as guilty as if I had slapped an innocent child across the
face. His hands in mine were lifeless, cold, somehow. I drew him
against me, felt him begin to shake and wondered if he had begun to cry
silently, as I had. But as he pulled away from me I saw that the tears
were still in his eyes, those beautiful eyes that had seen too much
pain in a singular lifetime.  
"No," he said very clearly, standing. I saw the outburst building but
let him explode, sat still as he tossed the bedside lamp to the floor,
shattering the globe, the room falling into dark. "This is some sort of
sick *joke*!" he yelled. "This is just another wild fucking goosechase
they're sending us on! I'm not falling for it, Scully. I'm not going to
let them yank my chain like this!" 

"Mulder, sit down," I said, gentle but commanding. If he didn't quieten
down somebody would be calling the police soon enough, and we didn't
need that. But that didn't mean I didn't appreciate his pain,
understand the turmoil. I had spent the last eleven years at his side -
this had become my quest too. And to find out after all these years
that it was because of Jacqueline - Jacqueline who had become like
family, who had given us our family... was just incomprehensible. Too
enormous, too overwhelming. 

"Mulder, sit down," I said again, and this time he obeyed, sitting on
the very end of the bed, head in his hands. 

"What proof does she have?" he demanded, not looking at me, his voice
already hoarse.  

"She matched Sam's old medical records with the... autopsy report.
Previous injuries, blood typing... everything was consistent." 

"But she can't be *sure*," he protested. He jumped up again, pacing in
the dark. I wished he wasn't so far away from me. I wanted him close,
both for his sake and my own. "There's thirty years missing in there,
Scully. You can't be certain about something like that unless you do
DNA tests -"  

"She doesn't have any blood samples to run matches - the samples taken
in the autopsy have been disappeared, along with any test results." 

"Then we have to find them - find out who took them, find out -" 

His struggling hope was devastating to listen to. "Mulder, I think it's
most likely whoever stole the files destroyed them. I doubt we'd find
them, n-" 

"Jacqueline has to come home," he interrupted me. "She's no use over
there. We need her back here." 

I didn't protest. "I'll call her," I agreed unhappily. 
  

She picked up on the second ring, as if she'd been waiting by the
phone. I heard her sniff back tears before answering, "Hello?" 

"You've gotta come back home, Jacqui." 

"Dana, I... I can't..." 

"You don't have a choice. Not after dropping that bombshell." I glanced
across at Mulder. He stood near the door, leaning against the wall,
posture tensed, face almost unreadable. 

"I can't. I would - you know I would... but I can't." 

I felt anger rising but didn't have the energy to argue. "What are we
supposed to do here, then?" 

There was silence on the line, then, "If it's true... which I honestly
think it is, Dana, that means that Fox is actually Josh and Astrid's
uncle." 

"Which DNA tests would verify," I realised.  

"Yeah," she answered quietly. "How's Fox holding up?" 

I glanced across at him. His hands were covering his face and I
wondered again if he were crying. "I've gotta go, Jacqui." 

"That bad?" 

"Yeah," I agreed, heavy-hearted. "That bad."  

I hung up, tossing the phone down, and approached him cautiously.
"Mulder?" I gently took his hands, prying them away from his face. He
seemed to have aged ten years - he looked so *old*.  
I put my arms around him, drawing him against me, and I felt, rather
than heard, the first tear, a trickle down the side of my neck. And
then he let out a cry of such anger and grief that I wanted to run
away, so afraid of being engulfed by this tidal wave of pain. He was
sobbing loudly, each sob breaking through the air, assaulting me.  
"That's not the way this is supposed to end..."  
His face was pressed against my shoulder and his voice was muffled, but
the raw agony of the statement broke down the last of my restraint and
I began to cry too, crying for the girl who I had never met who had
become an integral part of my life, crying for the empty space this
loss meant in our lives, and, above all, crying because I loved Mulder
with all my heart but couldn't do anything to ease this tremendous
pain. All I could do - all either of us could do - was to cling
together, to hold onto each other with every last ounce of strength and
not let the torrents of emotion drag us apart. 
  

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

- MULDER POV - 

I didn't sleep. Scully didn't either, just lay there holding me, not
complaining once about my too-tight desperate grip on her. As we lay
there silently, listening to each other's breathing, I wondered why she
was being so good to me, why she wasn't shouting at me to get on with
it, to get over what had happened when I was twelve. I didn't
understand how she could be so incredibly selfless, why she had
persevered with me. I didn't deserve that, and never had. 

"You awake?"  
I'd been watching the sunrise through the crack in the curtains, almost
mesmerised by the morning's evolution, and I realised that her hands
were gently stroking my cheek, her warm form against my back, her arms
around me, my hands on her arms. I had turned my back on her. Why? 

"Yes," I answered quietly, not moving, but releasing her hands. She
roused herself, kneeling, bent over me, her hand sliding under my head,
supporting me like a baby, stroking my hair. I felt an odd combination
of arousal and pain at her touch, the desire to lose myself in her and
the need to pull away. 

"Let's go get an early breakfast." 
  

We didn't bother with showers but just got changed. Casual clothes.
There was a diner only a half mile away and we started to walk, but I
soon began to jog, and then I was running, sprinting along the empty
streets in the early morning sun. The psychologist within me knew what
was going on but didn't care. I reached the diner, heaving for air, my
head spinning. I could smell bacon frying, breakfast preparation for
the early risers, a nauseating aroma. I collapsed to the ground,
vomiting behind a fence, my mind and body wracked with incredible pain.

  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

I found him almost passed out. Still panting for breath, I dropped to
the ground beside him, drawing his head into my lap. "Mulder?" I called
urgently. "Mulder, can you hear me?" 

His eyes rolled as I checked his pupils and he struggled to right
himself, but collapsed back against me, letting out a moan of pain and
defeat. Oh Lord... 

"Take your time," I told him softly. I slid a hand inside his loosely
buttoned shirt and rubbed his back. "Just take your time." 
  

I left him on the front porch of the diner, returning with water, plain
toast, and two hot coffees.  
He ate the toast and then immediately vomited it back up. We sat
together on the front steps for another fifteen minutes before I would
let him have any coffee, and he only managed to keep that down for five
minutes.  
He insisted he was fine to walk back to the motel but it was a slow
walk. He was silent all the way, unresponsive, and I felt terribly
lonely, terribly concerned.  

Back at the motel he went to have a shower. I rang Mom's to talk to the
kids - Astrid put me on speaker-phone so that Josh could listen too. I
heard my own voice echo back at me as I explained Jacqueline's phone
call and the consequences of it being true. The kids were silent on the
other end, then Astrid said quietly, "Tell Daddy we're praying for
him." 
  

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

- MULDER POV - 

I couldn't concentrate but I wanted to work. Scully refused at first,
saying that the case could be handed over to two local agents, that we
needed to get home. I wanted to solve this case myself, wanted to
reassure myself that I still could. And, maybe, I just wanted to hide
from the 'truth' for a while, push it away until the pain faded and I
could deal with it. I didn't tell Scully that, though. I just told her
that I needed to work, and she agreed. She understood how that felt. 

We arrived at the guesthouse just before twelve. Melissa and her
younger sister Louisa were both at school, but their parents were both
at home and reluctantly allowed us back up into Melissa's bedroom. As
we waited for her computer to boot up I wandered around the room,
trying to take everything in, absorb myself in the case once again.
There were photos, sketches and paintings pinned up all over the place,
half a dozen certificates pinned up, most of them for excellence in
drama, thanks for participation in plays and festivals, photos of her
in various costumes. Was this what Astrid's bedroom would soon be
looking like? 

"Come look." Her voice snapped me out of my absorption and I joined her
at the desk. She had opened the browser's history listings. 

"What am I looking at?" 

"This, here." She clicked on one of the items to highlight it in blue.
"It's a Yahoo! results page - she must have deleted the website where
she found the poem from the listings, but she forgot to delete this.
She searched for the keywords friendship, poetry, and old." 

"She?" 

"Mulder, I think it's a fair assumption that Melissa is the one behind
the hoax." 

"How?" 

"Firstly, the fact that the writing on her body was done by a
left-handed individual; I could tell by the smudging. I checked on that
- she's left-handed. Nobody else in the household is. Secondly, I'm
pretty sure that the handwriting matches - she made an attempt to
disguise it but she has an unusual way of forming certain letters that
she couldn't hide. We have no way of being sure, of course, because she
insisted on washing it off before we could get any photos. Thirdly, her
computer clearly shows that she looked up the poem. Fourthly, look at
all these -" she gestured to the awards and photographs - "she's
obviously a natural actress..." 

When had Scully had the time to sort this all out? How could she be so
far ahead of me? 
"And yesterday was all just a performance for our benefit?" I asked,
for once playing the skeptic. But as I glanced around I saw something.
"...Her bedroom window faces the road," I said slowly, piecing it all
together. "She would have seen us drive up. There was time to do that
to herself. But what's her motive? And how do you explain what I saw?" 

"You heard what she said yesterday." Scully shrugged, ignoring my
second question. "Maybe she resents her parents devotion to running
this place. And she's stepped up the hoaxing to such violent levels
that the guesthouse will be shut down." 

As I gazed around, I finally understood what had troubled me yesterday.
"I think you're right," I admitted. She looked at me curiously, as if
waiting for an explantion of my sudden conviction. "The marker on her
skin smudged when you touched it. Nobody could have drawn all over her
like that as she slept. It would have smudged the writing and left
marks on the bedsheets." 

"I didn't think of that," she confessed. She reached out to touch me on
the back and I almost wished she hadn't. I didn't need a reminder that
I needed support. 
  

We went downstairs and confronted the parents about their daughter's
involvement. David Redburg demanded to know what proof we had to make
such an accusation. When we outlined the facts his wife admitted that
it was possible Melissa was capable of pulling yesterday's stunt -
"she's such a dramatist, you know...", but certainly not the violence
previously. 

"She's not a troublemaker," David told us firmly. "She never has been."
There was an air of finality in statement and he all but pushed us out
the door. 

Fumbling with the car keys, I could swear I caught a glimpse of
movement in the side mirror, a slim figure, the briefest flash of a
face. It was the girl again. I swung around but she was gone. 

"Mulder? Mulder?" Scully was staring at me. "What is it?" 

"I saw her again," I admitted, but there was doubt in my heart. This
was all just my imagination playing tricks on me. Was it Samantha I
thought I was seeing, maybe? Was my sighting yesterday some sort of
precognitive vision? I was going mad, I thought oddly. After everything
I was finally going mad. 

"You saw the ghost girl?" 

I shook my head, fitting the key in the lock. "Doesn't matter." 

All the car's windows were fogged up, despite it being the middle of a
warm summer day, and I turned on the ignition and reached for the
airconditioning. But Scully's hand reached out to stop me. "Mulder,
look," she said strangely, pointing to the rear-vision mirror. 

It reflected the fogged up back windscreen and the world very clearly
spelled out across it. "TONIGHT," it read eerily. I turned in my seat
and stared at the writing, now appearing reversed.  

"It must be written in the dust on the outside of the car," Scully
suggested without much conviction.  

But I shook my head. "No, it's on the inside." To prove it I flipped on
the AC, and the fog quickly began to clear, the letters vanishing. 

Scully pulled out her celphone. "I'm going to call the girls' school,
see if Melissa has taken a leave of absence." 

She put the call through, but the results were negative. Melissa and
her sister had been in attendance all day - roles were marked without
fail at the beginning of each class. It was simply impossible that
Melissa had done that. 

I frowned. "What does that mean?" 

She shrugged. "I don't know." She reached out to touch my hand and I
wished she hadn't, because it pushed aside all thoughts of work and
brought back memories of the night's events in a rush. Just when I'd
managed to get it all out of mind for ten minutes... 
"Let's go back to the motel," she suggested gently. And, tired, I
didn't object. 

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

- SCULLY POV - 

If we were to dutifully follow the clues and return later that night we
would need to get some sleep in the afternoon - neither of us had slept
more than an hour in over thirty-six hours and chances were that the
night ahead of us was long. 
I tried to put Mulder to bed but he shook his head. "No. You get some
sleep. I'll be fine." 

Trying to talk him into it was a lost cause. I wanted to be firm, do
what was best for him, but at the same time I was just scared of
hurting him further. I settled down on the bed, revising the notes we'd
made the evening before, jotting down our discoveries that morning. I
didn't mean to fall asleep but it was past four when I woke again.
Mulder sat slumped in the armchair, staring, utterly absorbed, ahead at
the small coffee table. His gun sat, unholstered, on the table. Panic
flared within me. 
"Mulder, what are you doing?" 

He jolted. "What?" 

I could only stare at him, unable to formulate something to say that
would comfort him, protect him from himself and the truth. For a man
who spent his life chasing after a truth, he was devastated by it.  
I climbed off the bed, working the cricks out of my neck, and
approached him. "Why have you got your gun out?" I asked quietly. 

Something inside him seemed to wake up and he reached out to pick up
the weapon, reholstering it. "I was just checking how many rounds I had
left." 

He held the holstered weapon, almost weighing it in his hands, and I
took it from him, placing it back down on the table and taking his
hands. "Come on. I want you to get some sleep." 

"You don't have to treat me like a child, Scully." 

I eased him back, pushing him down on the bed. "Stay there," I told
him. "If you want to go back there tonight you have to get some sleep.
I'm not letting you go out there, otherwise." 
To be honest, I wasn't sure if I trusted him out there, even with
sleep. 
  

Pushing aside his gun, I put my papers down on the coffee table and sat
on the floor as I began to work through them, trying to find a second
suspect, whether we had any evidence indicating the parents. Melissa
Redburg had mastermined yesterday's incident, there was no doubt about
that. The question was, how did we know her pranks from a second
individual's far more deadly activities? And who *was* this second
individual? Were they working together, or were each attributing the
other's works to the ghost?  

Mulder wasn't sleeping. I was inconspicuously trying to keep an eye on
him as I worked at the coffee table, but every time I glanced up at him
I found him moving restlessly, picking up the book he was reading and
putting it down again, rubbing at his eyes, running his hands through
his hair. 

If a second individual was orchestrating the hoaxes, with or without
Melissa, they must have been there since the beginning, since the very
first 'sightings'. And who had been there that long? Only David and
Anita Redburg. *David*, I thought suddenly. Of course: David Redburg.
He hadn't accepted the suggestion that his daughter was behind the
hoaxers because, as the hoaxer himself, he knew it wasn't true. It made
sense. But why? Why would anybody do something like this? Business
tactics? Certainly, it had ensured the guesthouse had a reputation,
and, until now, a steady stream of paying guests. But why build up the
hoax to the point where people were being injured, even dying? It was
insanity. 

I stood, wanting to tell Mulder my deductions, but as I moved closer to
the bed I heard his muffled crying. His face was pressed against the
pillows, his body jerking with each sob. I sat on the edge of the bed,
putting my hand on his upper arm, but he didn't acknowledge the touch.
Maybe he didn't even feel it.  
"Mulder..." I called softly, my heart breaking with compassion. Please
let me help you, Mulder. Please let me help... 

I tried to pull him into my lap but he wouldn't let go of the pillow.
Why wouldn't he hug me instead? I needed a hug badly. But I gave up
trying to move him and instead spread my arm over him, touching his
side lightly, embracing him as much as I could. I lay my cheek on his
broad, flat back and it was hard to breathe, feeling the spasms that
came with every sob. I stayed with him like that, my eyes closed to the
world, until he fell asleep. 
  

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

- MULDER POV - 

"Here, have some." A styrofoam coffee cup was pushed in my face and I
winced as I drank some of the bitter black liquid. It was lukewarm.  

"What's the time?" I asked groggily. 

Scully checked her watch. "Just past eight. Have some pizza." There was
an open box on the bed and she nudged it toward me. I shook my head.
How could she have let me sleep past eight? We had to get to the
Redburg's... 

"Mulder, I'm not taking no for an answer. Have some." Concern was
etched all over her face. My precious doctoring Scully. 

I reached and picked up a slice, but my stomach turned at the sight of
it. "I can't." 

She stared at me, uncompromising. "Do you want to go out there tonight
or not?" 

"That's dirty tactics," I mumbled, taking a bite and struggling to
swallow it.  

"I wasn't even going to consider it," she admitted, watching me,
hawklike, as I forced each mouthful down. "I was just going to let you
sleep. But I think we've got enough to get father and daughter down to
the police station for questioning, and hand the whole matter over to
them." 

I stared at her, trying to comprehend. "Father and daughter? How does
David Redburg tie in?" 

"It was his reaction to our suggestion of Melissa's involvement. He
spoke as if the idea were ridiculous - how would he know with such
conviction unless he knew who was really responsible? And when it gets
back to basics, he's one of the only two suspects we have - David and
Anita were the first to come up with this ghost story - it had to be
one or both of them." 

"You're just assuming this is a hoax," I protested. "And it's not. I've
*seen* her, Scully. Seen her as clear as day. A young girl who was
murdered -" 

"But there was no young girl murdered," she broke in. "While you were
asleep I traced the origins of the story. About twenty-five years ago a
fifteen year old girl named Hillary Walkins was found dead on this
block of land - but she wasn't murdered, grotesquely or otherwise.
Apparently she had a congenital heart condition; she collapsed while
walking home from babysitting the neighbours, a five minute route she
always took. The coroner said it would only have taken a car backfiring
or something similarly unexpected, and by all accounts this girl had
quite an imagination. Late night, fairly deserted area... she just
frightened herself to death." 

"But she died young," I reasoned. "And a girl who frightened herself to
death is just as likely to haunt that sight as an apparition as a
murder victim..." 

"Mulder," she protested, "it's all just a hoax!" 

"What about the writing in our car this morning? How could anybody get
into the car? And how could they fog it up like that?" 

She looked away, lips pressed together tightly. "I don't have an
explanation for that," she admitted. "Maybe David picked the lock or...
I don't know. I'm sure that it can be explained, and it will be
explained. But as far as I'm concerned, Mulder, we take the father and
daughter into custody and then relinquish control of the situation. I
think you'll agree that there are more dire issues at hand." 

And I couldn't disagree. 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

The house was dark but both the Redburg's cars were there. We rang the
doorbell but there was no answer. A quick search around the house
yielded nothing and we couldn't see any movement in the house. 
"I guess they're not home." I shrugged. But Mulder looked disbelieving
and I shared his skepticism. There was something more going on here. 

At Mulder's insistence we took another look around outside the house.
It was dark and we played our flashlight beams across the grassy lawns,
along the fences and windows. There was a clatter and a hiss and Mulder
and I jumped, but it was only the Redburg's cat; our flashlight beams
had disturbed her. She sprinted past us and disappeared into the
shadows. Mulder and I both let go the breaths we'd been holding. 

"There's always a cat," he muttered, and I threw him a tight smile. I
didn't like what was going on - I'd only let Mulder come out with me
because I'd thought it would be a simple process. I hadn't counted on
this - whatever *this* was. 

I flipped off my flashlight. "Mulder, there's nothing here." 
  

And then, just to prove me wrong, there was something: a very loud
shriek. We ran to the front door. It was still locked and even with
Mulder and I ramming against it, it just wouldn't budge. Mulder tried
the glass doors onto the patio but they were locked too. He pulled off
his jacket, bunching it up, and was about to put his fist through the
glass when something flew against it. It was Anita Redburg and she
pounded against the glass, face pressed against it, screaming
hysterically. Her entire face seemed to be dripping blood, but I
couldn't see any cause of injury.  
"Stand back!" Mulder yelled. He was again about to put his fist through
the glass but I had managed to prise up a metal stake from the garden
and pushed it into his hand. He punched it through but the glass didn't
shatter - it took several tries to weaken the glass enough that it
collapsed, falling from the frame. Anita, standing sobbing
hysterically, her hands to her head, flew out at us.  

"Run!" she shrieked, pushing us hysterically, stumbling as she tried to
run. "We've got to get away from the house, away from..." 

Drawing her over to our car, I tried to calm her down so I could at
least discern the cause of all the bleeding. "What happened, Anita?
Where is everybody?" 

Mulder unlocked the car and pushed her so she sat perched on the edge
of the back seat, feet on the ground. She was trembling but in the
light of the car I could see that her face was covered with tiny
abrasions and cuts. Some slivers of what I thought was glass were still
stuck in her skin but there was no time to get them out, not with her
panicking like that. "What happened?" I repeated, but it was apparent
she wasn't listening. 

"Oh my God... David! We've got to find David! I don't know where he
went - he was right with me but then... And the girls.. I don't know
where my girls went." 

"Where did you see your husband last?" I prompted. 

"We were... we were upstairs in our bedroom. But I had to go to the
bathroom and then it all went dark and all the power went out and
something must have hit the mirror because it shattered all over me and
then I tried to find David but there was somebody there, in the dark,
trying to stop me." She shuddered uncontrollably, her face twitching.  

"What about your daughters?" I pushed. "Where are they?" 

She shook her head. "I don't know. They should have been in their rooms
but when I ran past they weren't there and... It's a big house; they
could be anywhere. I don't understand what's going on..." 

Behind me Mulder was calling for an ambulance and backup. "You stay
here," I told Anita. "If you need to, lock yourself in. Agent Mulder is
the only one with the key. Just *stay here*, understood?" 

I didn't wait for a reply - Mulder had already reached the patio doors
and I chased after him. Under no circumstances did I want him in there
alone.  

"I'm going upstairs," he called back to me. "You check the ground
floor." 

"Mulder, we should stick together -" I protested. 

"That's a waste of time, Scully!" he yelled back at me, oddly calm, and
yet, somehow, a little crazily. 

I had to trust him, I reasoned. I couldn't let somebody be harmed just
because I didn't trust my partner. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself
for that. Nevertheless, I searched through the ground floor quickly,
through the large dining room and kitchen and several living rooms. The
moonlight was flooding through the windows and the rooms starkly lit.
Nobody there, I established, and went up the stairs with trepidation. 

"Mulder!" I yelled out, and instead of echoing around my words seemed
to just vanish in the air around me, be absorbed in the carpet and
painted walls and furniture. "Mulder!" I yelled again. 

I was heading down the corridor to the wing permanently occupied by the
Redburgs when I heard my name yelled back. As I was trying to pinpoint
the origin of the call my celphone chirruped. It was Mulder. 

"I've found the girls. Where are you?" 

"Second floor," I told him. "Nearing the Redburg's wing. Where are
you?" 

"Other end of the house. Follow the hallway. The door at the end leads
to another hallway. You want the first door of the right." 

I hung up and began to move, following his directions, playing my
flashlight over the floor. There were faint traces of white dust on the
dark carpet. I reached the door and eased it open, scanning the room
with my flashlight. 

Melissa Redburg was standing in the corner amidst a collection of of
junk - balls of wool, jars, buckets, mousetraps and dozens of other
items, all spread out on dirty newspapers over the carpet. Mulder stood
only a few feet away from him, arm stretched out toward her but palm
out, as if warning her not to move. Usually he'd be wielding his gun
and I was glad he couldn't.  
I stared at him, then at the Melissa, then back at him. "Mulder, what's
going on?" 

"I found her balancing a bucket of God-knows-what over the doorway you
just came through." He indicated the bucket, grimacing, and I bent down
closer to examine it. 

"It's not real blood," Melissa said sulkily. "It's just a mix of stuff
from the kitchen. Just like they do on TV, you know. Wasn't going to
hurt anybody." 

"Yeah, just like that mirror prank," Mulder retorted. "Your mom's going
to be scarred for life." 

Melissa's eyes widened. "What happened to Mom?" 

"Where are your sister and father, Melissa?" 

"Lolly's upstairs. We needed something from upstairs... And Dad's... I
don't know where Dad is. Isn't he with Mom?" 

Mulder stared at them. "We're going downstairs," he said shortly.
"Let's go." 

"We didn't do anything to Mom," Melissa insisted, sounding a little
panicky. "A couple of tripwires and stuff around the place for you
guys, but that's all. We wouldn't hurt Mom. She's not hurt bad, is she?
Was it Mina? It must have been Mina. But Mina wouldn't hurt Mom,
either..." 

"Let's move," Mulder said impatiently. He grabbed her arm and almost
dragged her to the door.  

She pulled away. "Okay, I'm going. You don't have to treat me like a
criminal." 

Mulder only opened the door, pushing her out into the corridor. It was
only then that we heard the pounding, the sort of panicky hammering of
a trapped human. It was coming from the direction of the Redburg's
wing. 

"I'll check it out," I told Mulder. "You get her downstairs." 

"What about Louisa?" Melissa demanded. 

"We'll go get her," Mulder said quickly.  

I bit down a cry of "No!" Truth was, I was feeling unsettled enough in
the situation as it was. I didn't need to be worrying about how the
claustrophobic darkness of the house would affect Mulder. But he didn't
give me a choice - he and Melissa went pounding up the stairs. 

"Mr Redburg?" I yelled out, approaching the wing. The door separating
the Redburg's rooms was ajar and I nudged it gently open. Sorry kids,
Mom and Daddy were out late raiding a haunted house but we'll try to be
home for Christmas, I thought crazily. I jumped as the door slammed
shut behind me and held my breath, refusing to let myself be afraid
even though now I was in complete darkness. I gripped my weapon tighter
and stumbled back as it fired ahead into the darkness. I was stunned. I
hadn't taken the safety off. How had that happened? I felt for my
flashlight but couldn't find it. I had lost it somewhere.  
"Mr Redburg?" I yelled again, and this time he must have heard, because
the hammering grew even louder. Somebody just *had* to cut the power, I
thought in frustration. Way to set me on edge. As if I didn't have
enough stress in my life.  
Putting my hands to the wall, I felt along, trying to remember how many
doors there had been, where the Redburg's bedroom had been, trying to
follow the pounding. Then the pounding stopped. 
"Shit!" I hissed. I'd been close. Why had he stopped? Then I swore
again as something flew right past my head. I dropped to the ground,
wincing as something bit into my hand. I felt along it - it was a
string tied tightly across the hallway just above the carpet - one of
Melissa's tripwires. I stayed down for a moment, holding my breath,
trying to hear something - more pounding, somebody else breathing,
footsteps, anything. But all I could hear was my heart pounding in my
own ears. 

Instead of standing again immediately I crawled forward, reaching the
end of the hallway. Slowly rising, I felt the outlines of the door and
found the knob. Twisting it, I was relieved that the door opened - even
more relieved to see the moonlight streaming through the window,
illuminating much of the room.  
"Mr Redburg?" I called out, shifting my sweaty grip on my gun. 

A weak knocking came from the wardrobe in the corner and I headed over
accordingly. Somebody had jammed a chair against the wardrobe under the
knobs to lock it closed. I pulled the chair away and the doors open.
David Redburg was huddled in the bottom amidst a pile of fallen coats
and dresses. He looked barely conscious. 
I reached to help him up but he couldn't hold himself upright very
well. And I soon saw why. He had been deeply cut several times along
his right side and was bleeding profusely. "Who did this?" 

He groaned as I holstered my weapon and put an arm around him, trying
to support him. "It wasn't Mel," he muttered. "I don't know who it was
but it wasn't Mel..." 

The two of us together inched out way out and along the corridor. There
was a little light coming from the bedroom but the light kept shifting,
making moving shadows, which was almost worse than the dark. We reached
the intermediate door and discovered that it was locked - and not from
our side. Frustrated, I kicked at it, and it gave a little. So I put
more force into it. It was only a thin door and it swung off the
hinges, crashing to the floor. 

"Scully!" Mulder was ahead of us, Melissa standing near him, at the top
of the stairs. But something was wrong - because I couldn't see the
stairs. Instead, it looked as if some massive, deformed wall had grown
in their place. Most of the light from outside was cut out and it was
only by Mulder's flashlight that I could see.  
"Is he hurt?" Mulder called out. 

"Yeah, pretty badly."  

Melissa came running and her father leaned on her; more comfortably, I
think - she was taller than me. Shrugging my stiff shoulder, I moved
closer to Mulder. "You couldn't find Louisa?" 

"We heard someone downstairs and thought she'd snuck past us. Then we
discovered this." He indicated the mammoth structure, a perfectly
balanced pile of furniture reaching almost to the ceiling and resting,
I thought, just on the very top step. How would we be able to pull it
down and get past? 

"We've got to get this down." Mulder reached out to touch it,
considering the structure. "I think this right side will be easiest,
because we can clear a way without collapsing the rest." But when he
gripped the leg of a chair he suddenly flew back, hitting the wall as
if thrown. He winced, the wind knocked out of him, but as I moved
closer to help him he pushed me away. "I'm okay," he wheezed. 

I reached out, very tentatively, to try the same piece of furniture he
had tried, but before I could even touch it I felt almost like a punch
in the face something pushing me back. In those few square feet somehow
a wind of hurricane force picked up in only a second and I felt myself
buffeted around. And it wasn't just me: I saw Mulder push Melissa and
her father to the ground. I dropped to the ground myself, but then when
I heard the furniture in the pile right beside us creaking I began to
crawl.  
"We've got to get clear in case it falls!" I yelled, wondering if I
would be heard over the deafening roar. It was like being caught in the
surf, tumbled around like a rag doll. I had to dig my fingers into the
carpet and grip on for dear life, pulling myself as if I were towing an
enormous load. Every few inches I moved was a massive, draining effort.
"Back down the corridor!" I yelled.  

We crawled toward the Redburg's annex and as I crawled over the fallen
door I wished I hadn't had to kick it down - it only meant a few more
feet to be travelled before we could shut out the wind. I reached to
open the very first room on the right and as soon as I'd sprung the
lock the door swung inward. The four of us blindly groped out way
through, and it took Mulder, Melissa and I to push it closed again. We
almost didn't manage to. And then, as it finally clicked shut, the roar
vanished and there was silence. 
  

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

- MULDER POV - 

We were in Melissa's bedroom, which was good news because she managed
to find not only another flashlight, but also several rolls of bandages
in her wardrobe.  
"We were going to pull a Mummy hoax," she admitted. 

Scully bandaged David's wounds as well as she could.  
"You should be okay, but we need to get you to a hospital," she told
him, frowning.  
I knew what she was thinking - it must have been at least twenty
minutes since we called for backup and an ambulance. What was taking
them so long? 

After a quick private conference Scully and I agreed to try the door -
and discovered that the hall outside was in utter stillness. The four
of us moved along slowly, sidestepping fallen paintings and smashed
vases. And the pile of furniture at the top of the stairs was gone. 

"What the hell is going on here?" Scully whispered to me. 

"Let's just get them out of here," I whispered back. So we all, very
cautiously, crept down the stairs, Melissa and I supporting her father.
Every second I was expecting something to jump out at us but there was
just stillness. 
Anita Redburg was still waiting out in the parking lot, but had locked
herself in the car. Seeing the four of us she fumbled to unlock her
door and climb out, flying to embrace her husband and daughter, crying
hysterically. "There was somebody out here! Somebody threw stones and
they were rocking the car and - David! God, what happened to you?" 

"Did you see who it was?" I demanded. "Where did she go?" 

"Round the back, I th -" Anita cut off. "What's that?" 

In the silence I heard a shrill beeping.  

"That's the smoke detector," Melissa muttered. 

"Lolly is still in there!" Anita cried. "Oh my God! Lolly's still in
there!" 

"You sure she's in there?" Scully asked. She glanced across at me,
frowning. "You sure she couldn't be hiding somewhere outside?" 

Anita shook her head, sobbing. "She must be trapped, like David was.
You've got to go find her, help her. David -" Then, looking around, she
let out another shriek. "Where's David gone?" 

"Crap," I muttered, seeing a limping, doubledover figure heading
through the patio doors.  

Scully and I both chased after him, finding him collapsed just through
the door, coughing - not from smoke inhalation, but with bright red
blood bubbling from his lips. Scully and I picked him up between us,
half-carrying, half-dragging him back out and onto the lawn.  

"I must have underestimated the depth of the cuts," Scully muttered,
pulling off the bandages and lifting up David's shirt. "God, he's a
mess. Something has been nicked - I can't tell until all the blood is
cleaned up." She looked up at me, eyes grave. "Mulder, this guy needs
to get to hospital, fast." 

"You stay here and look after him," I told her. "I'll go in after
Louisa." 

Her eyes became even more concerned. She knew I hated fire, probably
didn't trust me as it was with everything that had happened over the
last twenty-four hours. She had quietly told me at the motel to leave
my weapon behind, buried in my locked suitcase, and I had agreed. I
hadn't wanted to really be in possession of a weapon at the time,
either. But now was different and we had no other choice. She was the
only doctor here and David Redburg was seriously injured. 

She held out her weapon to me. "Be careful," was all she said, but she
said it with such desperation and intensity that it chilled me.  

"I'll be back soon," I promised. A scream came from the house and we
exchanged quick glances. If there had been any opportunity to back out,
it was gone.  

I went through the patio doors again and made my way through the ground
floor, moving as quickly as I could. The beeping of the smoke detector
had ceased and I had nothing to track. There was no smoke, no
indications of a fire. Just the dark house and me with my flashlight.  

And a deafening smash. It sounded as if an armful of crockery and
cutlery had been thrown to the floor, I thought - and, running into the
kitchen, I discovered I wasn't too far off. The floor was littered with
broken glass, broken china, and dented silverware. And right before my
eyes, a whole row of matching coffee mugs skidded off the counter as if
an invisible arm had swept them off, crashing onto the floor. Holy - 

"Boo!"  

I jumped as a face appeared only a foot away from mine. I recognised
her immediately - the girl I'd chased before, the ghost. She grinned at
me like a kid full of mischief, then turned and ran from the room.  

Leaping over the piles of litter, I followed her out into a hallway and
then into another room. It was only when I ran into a snooker table
that I realised where I was. Then, hissing a curse, I ducked, something
flying over my head. The second projectile, thrown at lightning speed,
missed me by only a few inches. Huddling under the edge of the pool
table I counted a total of six tiny arrows hurled in my direction. I
think one skimmed the top of my hair. Shit. It was about thirty seconds
after the last was thrown that I dared to peer over the edge, then
cautiously shining my flashlight around the room to ensure I was alone.
Then I kneeled to examine the six darts deeply embedded in the wall.
What an aim. 

I left the room but proceeded with a hell of a lot more caution.  

"Louisa?" I yelled. "We've got to get out of here! Louisa?" 

I expected my voice to echo but, oddly, it seemed to just... end. I
climbed the stairs slowly, sweeping ahead with my flashlight. Just
being cautious. I reached the top and almost lost my balance and
tumbled back down headfirst when a heavy antique-framed picture - the
last one still hanging - fell face down on the carpet with a thud. 

"Shit," I muttered, to break the unnerving silence if nothing more.
Where the hell was the fire and where was Louisa?  

I felt a sudden jarring impact on my back that sent me sprawing and I
wondered if I'd been punched from behind. But as I lay, wincing and
gasping for air, I realised that it was happening again. The wind
picked up and my flashlight flew from my hand as if plucked. It skidded
across the floor and began to tumble down the stairs, blinking out only
a few steps downward. "Shit," I said again. What in hell was going on? 

The wind grew and grew, closing in on me til it was like being in a
hurricane. Blinded, I put an arm up to shield my face. I felt a jab of
pain in my arm and instinctively crawled back. My shirt was billowing
in the wind and every exposed inch of skin felt almost burned - wind
burn. 
I felt a sudden pain in my leg, as well, but didn't know if I had been
attacked again or if an object caught up in the whirlwind had struck
me. Then I distinctly felt my upper arm sliced open, as if somebody had
very slowly drawn a hot poker along the skin. Wrapping a hand over it,
I felt it begin to ooze blood, but I didn't know how deep it was. The
wind was so strong now I had to put my head down to stop my neck from
breaking and I prayed that whatever or whoever it was that had been
attacking me had gone, because I felt completely vulnerable, blinded
and disoriented. 

I think then I must have passed out, because I came to and found myself
face down in the carpeting, my hand still tightly gripping Scully's gun
twisted underneath me, my other hand still gripping my arm, the worst
wound. The wind had gone and there was enough moonlight now that I
could see, the world was one of light and shadows again.  

I stood cautiously, my head reeling. Backup was finally arriving, I
thought, vaguely hearing the sirens in the distance. I should just go
out and let backup take it from here, let them deal with the weirdness.
I held out my hands in the moonlight and saw that there were trails of
blood all over my arm, like the first coat of a Jackson Pollock
painting. I drew my hand away to examine the cut itself and it wasn't
as bad as I'd thought, only a few millimetres deep. Examining my other
arm and then my legs I discovered my clothing sliced in several places,
but none of the incisions were very deep. 

"Give it up, Mina!" I yelled to the empty house. I was tired, my wounds
were stinging, and I had had enough.  

As if in defiance a vase at the other end of the corridor suddenly flew
against a wall, smashing into dust, artificial flowers scattering.  

"Mina, Hillary, whoever you are, you've gotta stop this!" I shouted.
"You've gotta stop hurting people!" 

"Go away!" 

The words came from behind me and I swung around, pointing my weapon.
The hallway stretching ahead into the Redburg's wing was dark. "You're
hurting people!" 

"I said, go away, loser!" I swung around again to find the girl
standing on top of the pile of dust, hands clenched at her sides. She
looked as if she were about to throw a tantrum. She was just a kid.  

"This is *enough*!" I told her, angry. "I've had *enough*." 

"Oh, *you've* had enough! You think anybody cares? Nobody does! Nobody
ever does! You've gotta learn that, loser! You've gotta learn that..."
She gestured wildly as she ranted, breaking off into mutters. She was
more than angry. She was psychotic. I'd studied prisoners who had been
in solitary isolation before and I saw the same symptoms now. Nervous
tics, wild behaviour, inability to focus. She couldn't look me in the
eye. 

"Mina -" 

"Shut up! Don't call me that. And don't think that I'm just some
innocent little kid cos I'm not, okay? I'm not innocent any more. And
don't come any closer! I'll hurt you if you come any closer." 
I was about to ask how exactly she was planning on hurting me when a
bullet flew past my head, only a foot or two wide. I ducked, reaching
for me weapon, but I couldn't find it. I'd had it in my hand and it had
vanished. She'd taken it. Another bullet flew past and embedded itself
in the wall beside me, far too close for comfort. I was in a cold
sweat, unable to move for a terrifying second before breaking through
the paralysis and pulling myself to my feet, hand outstretched.  
"Give me the gun." 

"Stay away from me!" she shrieked, pointing the gun directly at my
head, her entire body shaking. It took me a moment to realise the wind
was building up around me again and I wanted to scream in frustration
and pain as the air cut into my wounds. I dropped and pressed myself
against the ground in a huddle, shielding my injuries as best I could,
knowing I was at Mina's mercy but that the wind would knock me down in
a second if I tried to stand. 

"I don't know why you're doing this!" I yelled at her, but I got no
reply, I didn't know if she even heard me over the wind. There was
something sharp digging into me and I felt blindly for it, trying to
work out the shape. Then I almost jumped. It was my weapon, and the
safety was off. I could have shot myself in my fumbling. It was a
miracle that I hadn't. 

I raised it up, not even sure where Mina had been standing, and fired
off two shots, then a third a little to the right. It was hopeless at
best, but I couldn't just lie there at her mercy. 
"Just let me out of here!" I yelled. The dust whipped up in the wind
was choking me and I pressed my arm against my nose and mouth, trying
to stop from inhaling the poisonous air. My head spun as I struggled
against the gale and I knew I was going to pass out. I buried my head
under my arm, squeezed my eyes shut, and prayed for redemption. 
  

When I lifted my head I couldn't see anything through the dustcloud.
Coughing as I inhaled a lungful, I stopped myself, hearing a moan. Had
I hit Mina? Ghosts couldn't be killed, could they? Couldn't be injured?
Could they bleed? It was this sudden intense curiosity that overtook
the pain and the logic that told me to be more cautious and I pushed my
way through the disipating dust. But what I found made my stomach sink,
and any interest I had left in the ghost of Golden Retreats Guesthouse
vanished without a trace. 

Because it wasn't Mina or Hillary or a ghost by any other name I found
sprawled on her back in the hallway with a bullet through her right
arm: it was Louisa Redburg. 
  

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

- ASTRID POV - 

Grandma took us to school. She walked us to the gate and waited there
with Erin, watching us go in. But Josh and I had been counting on that,
because it was something she always did. It was kinda a funny feeling,
because I knew she was remembering when it was her own kids she was
taking to school, and maybe Mommy had been the baby in her arms, or
Uncle Charlie. She was thinking about Mom's sister, too. You could
tell.  
I guess by now Josh and I should have known how to act around her when
she was thinking about Melissa or even how Mom got sick or about Emily,
but it was still strange to be around her when she was unhappy,
different to how it was being around Mom or Dad. Joshie and I were okay
with dealing with them now. They just needed lots of hugs, minimal
trouble, somebody to take Erin off their hands, and more hugs. Joshie
and I could do that. 

The shopping mall was on the other side of the school anyway, so we
didn't have to go back out that way. There was still a couple of
minutes before the bell so everybody was still running around outside.
We put our bags in the library and by the time the bell rang we were at
the back entrance to the teacher's parking lot. That backed onto the
overflow parking lot for the supermarket, and a little bit along the
road was the new mall. 
The good thing about Josh is that you never need to give him
instructions. He always knows exactly what to do, though sometimes he
gets scared. I don't blame him, though - cos sometimes I get scared
too. It's hard not to. Even Mommy and Daddy get scared, a lot. And they
can't promise us that there's no such thing as monsters, like other
parents do, because they know that isn't true. 

We were both pretty scared as we waited for the bus at the stop outside
the mall but at the same time it was kinda exciting, for me, anyhow,
cos we were meant to be in school, and it was a thrill because I never
really did the wrong thing. But as well as being scared and excited I
felt kinda sick in my stomach, a bubbling sort of feeling, like rising
stomach acid or something. I didn't know yet if I wanted the tests to
prove Duckie right or wrong. 

The busdriver looked at us strangely but he let us on. It was too early
in the morning for most people to be going away from the shops so Josh
and I got our choice of seats. Josh picked a seat near the back and
slid in. 
"I don't want to make things more complicated," he mumbled as I sat
beside him.  

"Daddy's going to want to get proof when they get back," I told him.
"We're just getting it over with sooner." 

He was staring down at his hands pensively. He seemed to put so much
effort into thinking, always. "Do you want it to be true?" 

"I don't know, Joshie," I told him truthfully. My skin went all crawly
and I shook myself, trying to get rid of the feeling. 

"I think..." he said slowly, "that I do. Not just cos it gives us that
extra connection but because they deserve ...closure." 

"They do," I agreed. "But at what cost?" 

He didn't answer that one - I knew he wouldn't. Instead, he pulled out
the map he'd drawn up from Grandma's street directory, tracing our
route with his fingertip. The bus we were on didn't go to the Clinic -
there was a connecting bus that stopped near it, but instead of waiting
for that we were just going to walk instead because it was only a short
distance.  

"You nervous about this, Joshie?" I asked, because I was nervous -
about finding out, about getting in trouble, and even about the needle
because I didn't like needles. 

"Not as much as you," he said quietly. He gave me a small smile,
reaching to squeeze my hand. "But if you be my rock, I'll be yours." 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

It was still several hours before sunrise when the ambulance left with
David Redburg in the back, a second with Louisa and her mother. I
wanted to take Mulder to the hospital to get his wounds checked and
cleaned - he probably needed stitches on the arm, I thought, but he
needed a little time before we went anywhere. He was still shaking, the
hand that held the wadded bandage against his arm twitching. I'd
listened as he gave his statement and although it had seemed calm and
coherent I knew better.  

"There was no fire," I told him quietly. "Somebody tripped the alarm on
purpose, probably Louisa. She and Melissa orchestrated many of the
tricks between them." 

"This wasn't them. All this, tonight. It was a ghost - an entity,
Scully. And I saw her, so don't try and talk me out of it." 

"Mulder..." I kneeled down beside him on the lawn, watching him
closely. "If you really saw it.. well, I can't disprove that. Things
did happen tonight that I have no explanation for and -" 

"And I'm upset and you'll let me have my way?" He gave me a twisted,
pained smile. "Give me a little credit, Scully." 

"Sorry." I reached out to take his hand, feeling a sudden hunger for
closeness. He'd been in the house so long that I hadn't known what was
going on. I'd been afraid he wouldn't come out again. 
I touched his face, examining the graze speckled with tiny fragments of
glass. Then, gently, I rose up tall enough to kiss his lips gently. I'm
glad you're safe. 

I could see the emotions battling in his face and a tear slipped from
one eye down his cheek. He reached to brush it away but I caught his
hand, not wanting him to disturb all his scrapes and risk only
embedding the glass deeper. 
"Scully..." he said brokenly, and that told me everything. After so
long working so close it only took a word, the way he said my name, to
spill out everything. Fear, guilt, horror, regret, surrender. 

Silently, I reached to put my arms around him, letting him nuzzle
against my neck, almost as if he were hiding within me, like a child
hiding in the folds of a mother's dress. Josh had done that, once, and
Erin was starting to do that now, trusting me to protect and comfort,
stand between her and the unknown. 
  

I took Mulder to the hospital. Leaving him in capable hands, I found
Melissa sitting alone in the waiting room, while her parents were
treated and her sister in surgery. 
"Can I talk to you for a moment?" I asked quietly. 

She nodded, not looking at me. 

"They're all going to be okay," I told her. "With everything going on,
we're just lucky nobody got killed." I drew a shallow breath. "Agent
Mulder and I are both very, very sorry about what happened to your
sister." 

She shook her head. "Forget about it. It's not your fault, not really."

I was surprised that we were being so quickly absolved of guilt, though
I guessed maybe the parents would take it harder. It was hard to
estimate in a situation like this. 

"Actually... it's kinda my fault," Melissa admitted. 

"How is it your fault?" 

"I told Mina I didn't want to work with her any more. You know, that I
thought she was getting out of control. I think that just made her
angrier, though. She'd been getting really angry later, kinda psycho." 

"Louisa was in on it too, wasn't she? The stunts, I mean." 

"Most of them. Not the one yesterday, though she came up with the idea
for it. I'd been wanting to do that for ages, and then you turned up
and I thought I needed something to draw attention away from myself...
Red herring, you know. Lolly was mad she missed it." 

"What about your father?" 

She looked at me for the first time, surprised. "Dad? Dad didn't have
anything to do with it. He thought it was all Mina." 

"So who was reponsible for tonight's charade?" I asked quietly. "The
furniture on the stairs, the doors locking, your mother's mirror, your
father being attacked, Agent Mulder being attacked?" 

"That wasn't me," she looked at me in a shaky attempt at defiance. "I
swear, it wasn't. I did the tripwires, had some things rigged upstairs
that I didn't even set off, and that was it." 

"Would Louisa have organised these things alone?" 

"Lolly never did anything alone." Her eyes widened, as if realising
she'd spoken of her sister in past tense. "Never does, I mean. God, I'm
talking about her as if she's dead or something." 

"Do you know where Louisa was all this evening? We searched the house -
she wasn't anywhere to be found. With all the noise, why didn't she
come to see what was going on earlier?" 

Melissa shrugged, getting agitated. "I don't know. I'm not her keeper.
She was with me after dinner when we were figuring out what to pull on
you, then she said she had to go upstairs for something and didn't come
back down again. I figured she got distracted. You're not seriously
going to blame all this on her, are you? She couldn't have done all
that stuff - with the wind and the furniture and everything. She's only
fourteen. And she wouldn't have done it. She wasn't into hurting
people. Neither of us were." 

"So why all the pranks that you pulled?" 

"What's my motive?" She gave me a humourless smile, and yet I thought
she was getting a certain amount of relish from the dramatics of it
all. "We just wanted to have fun, see what we could get away with. I
guess it's a power thing. The whole concept of being able to do
whatever you want, smash whatever you want, pull all these kid
tricks... and not be blamed? It's liberating." She shrugged
dramatically. "But," she added, "We wouldn't have been able to get away
with it all if Mina hadn't really existed." 

My skepticism must have shown because she sighed. "You don't believe
me. I can deal with that - we get a lot of people at the house who
don't believe. But your partner's a different story. If he's seen her
then you've got to believe that. He'll go mad if you don't." 

"There are a lot of things Agent Mulder believes," I answered tightly,
not completely joking as I added, "And he's already a little mad."
Quickly moving away from the subject, I asked curiously, "Why do you
think it is so few people have been able to actually see Mina?" 

She looked at me seriously. "She doesn't need to hide from us when we
know she's there. It's just up to whether you really believe she's
there or not." 

I nodded. Mulder would I always, I knew, want to believe. 

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

- MULDER POV - 

I was packing away toiletries when Scully, standing in the bathroom
doorway,  announced "Louisa's out of surgery." 

I stopped for a second to look at her, trying to gauge the situation
from her expression. My hands mechanically kept packing. "What's the
prognosis?" 

"She'll live, but there could be nerve damage to her right arm, to the
extent of complete loss of mobility." 

Even my hands stopped. Oh sh... 

"We can't prove that the father was involved; he denies it, Melissa
denies any involvement on his behalf, and... well, there's still your
account of the ghost." 

"You don't believe that," I pointed out to her. 

"I can't prove or disprove it," she said evasively. "And I don't have
any other explanation, as yet, and I don't like our chances of finding
any conclusive proof - of anything, really. They might be able to get
Melissa and Louisa for malicious damage but it's unlikely. We can't
prove anything other than the stunt Melissa pulled, and last thing I
checked it wasn't a felony to do that to yourself." 

"It's a felony to lie to the FBI." 

"Yeah, I know, but she's just a kid, Mulder. Just a kid having fun. And
I think that's what we're going to have to leave this case as. Teenage
pranks and *possible* haunting entity at work. Case remains unsolved.
We're going home." 

"We can't leave yet!" I protested, despite knowing all too well I was
just trying to avoid facing the truth about Samantha. 

"We don't have a choice. Skinner's called us back ASAP. He wants our
reports on ... well, everything. Our flight leaves at nine-thirty am."
She reached out to touch my arm. "Time to face the music." 

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

- ASTRID POV - 

Duckie had one of Joshie's sketches up on the wall in her office. He'd
given it to her for her last birthday and she'd framed it, hanging it
among the various degrees and accreditations hung up, some of them
genuine, most forged, as had been the documents allowing her to
register as a licensed MD, trained OB-GYN. It had all been done
expensively, professionally, and Duckie didn't seem to have any qualms
about the entire facade. She had, after all, lived her whole life
behind lies, without much regard for the truth or common law. But Josh
and I had doubts - I knew how worried Josh was for her, that they'd
discover the truth about her and sent her to jail. She could be in
serious trouble when they found out. 
Just like we were in serious trouble now, I thought. 

"You did *what*?" she demanded. Even though she was on speakerphone
Josh and I pulled back a little. She sounded angry or upset, or both.
All this couldn't be easy for her. Graham seemed to stress her out
enough as it was and then with this whole Samantha thing... 

"We've got to find out for Daddy," I insisted logically. "He'll want to
do the tests when he gets back from the case so we might as well have
the data waiting for him." I looked across at Josh. "Besides, we have
the right to know this too." 

"Kids -" She broke off with a sigh and I felt guilty for stressing her
out. "Where are you, now?" 

"In your office." The temp doctor had moved into an office down the
hall - Duckie's domain would be kept untouched until she returned. In
other words, indefinately. But if she never came back from Australia, I
thought suddenly, what would they do with it? "Dr Harrison told us to
wait here." 

"How did you get to the clinic? You're meant to be at school! Oh God,
Dana and Fox are going to kill me for this..." 

"This isn't your fault," Josh spoke up. "We're responsible for
ourselves." 

"You're six, Josh! I know you're capable of taking care of yourself but
your grandma and your teachers won't. And Fox and Dana... They trust
you two. You can't let them down." 

I felt angry that she was bringing that down on us. "We have a right to
the truth about our mother!" I told her hotly. Josh reached across to
touch my arm, his eyes pleading. I took a second to calm down. "We just
need to know, that's all. Don't you want to know, for sure?" 

Another sigh. "Your Mom and Dad are going to kill me for this... put
Aaron on the line. Aaron Harrison." 

Dr Harrison had been hovering outside the door to Duckie's office -
listening in on us, I guessed. I was used to most adults treating me
with that unconscious condescence and even curiosity but there was more
than that in the bemused way Dr Harrison smiled at me, taking the phone
and staring at us as he talked to Duckie. He seemed to smile a lot, and
I was still trying to figure out how genuine it was. People are hard to
figure out. 

"Right... uh huh... I see... I guess we could... Yeah huh... No
problem. I'll let you know. How are you going, by the way? You must be
- what, six, seven months by now?" My ears pricked up and I stared at
him. *What*? Duckie was pregnant? Duckie was *six or seven months
pregnant*? Did Mom and Dad know? Why didn't they tell us? Why didn't
Duckie tell us? Sometimes I hated being a kid. 
Dr Harrison chuckled. "We're missing you around here, Jacqui... Yeah,
well take care, okay? Bye." 

He hung up briskly and turned to us. "Okay, here's the deal: we take
blood samples and somebody drives you back to school. When we get the
results back we check them against your father's, which we have in your
baby sister's file. Kapish?" 

"It only takes ten minutes for results," I objected. "We can stay that
long." 

He held up a finger. "No, it only takes ten minutes if we put it top
priority, and today in particular is a busy day." He smiled. "Sorry." 

If Duckie was here she'd bully it through for us, I thought, annoyed.
But then I had misgivings. Maybe she wouldn't. Come to think of it, I
didn't really know how Duckie would act in the situation any more. I
missed her. She hadn't even e-mailed me for over a week. 

He moved behind her desk, pulling out some vials and needles. "It's a
busy day. You want these samples taken we've got to do it now. Who's
going first?" 

I moved forward reluctantly and he actually lifted me up, sitting me on
the edge of the desk. I lifted up the sleeve of my white short-sleeved
school shirt and turned away as he wiped a swab across my skin. His
professionalism reminded me of Mom but I wouldn't have been scared if
she was doing it. 
The actual needle stung less than I'd remembered, maybe because the
memory of the pain had festered for so long. I actually felt okay
enough to look back and watch as he filled a vial with blood, then
eased the needle out again and pressed a cottonbud against my arm.
"Hold it there, puss." 
I'd forgotten his nickname for me - he'd called me that every time I'd
come here with Mommy for her checkups, and then after Erin was born for
more checkups. I think maybe Dr Harrison wished he had kids.  

I slid off the desk, holding the cottonbud against the spot. I pulled
away to let him put a bandaid on and found a tiny bit of blood smeared
on my fingertip, wispy cotton sticking to me. I smoothed the bandaid
down and wiped my fingertip on my skirt, the stain lost in the dark
checked fabric.  

As I looked up I felt funny, a little queasy again, dizzy as if he'd
taken far more blood than he actually did. But I knew I was fine, it
was all just in my head.  
Josh sat calmly as Dr Harrison drew a blood sample, paling just a
little, I thought, but not saying anything. I knew he was thinking, as
I was, that it would have been good to have Mommy or Daddy or even
Duckie there, just someone to smile reassuringly and then give us an
affectionate hug. I hoped Mom and Dad were coming home from Michigan
soon. I wanted a hug.  

We followed Dr Harrison out as he went to hand over the blood samples
for analysis, and he was just trying to talk a nurse into driving us
back to school when the doors - doors that belonged in a hospital when
the clinic really seemed much more like an office, I thought - burst
open and a man ran in, carrying a woman in his arms. She was wearing
only a flowery summer dress and it was easy to tell that she was
pregnant, but she didn't look full term. And there was a lot of blood
on her dress. She was haemorrhaging. 

"Linda!" The woman was clearly Dr Harrison's patient - he bolted toward
her, helping lower her into a wheelchair. They didn't get many
emergencies here - they didn't usually need guernies. "Let's get her
into the delivery room. I'm going to need all the ER equipment!" 

Josh and I hung back a bit as everybody seemed to race everywhere. The
doors to the delivery wing swung shut after them but we could still
hear the woman's moans. Thank you God that Erin's birth was
uncomplicated, I thought. And, as an afterthought, I sent up a quick
prayer for the haemorrhaging woman.  

I heard a door slam shut in the distance and couldn't hear the woman
any more. Everybody who had somewhere to rush to had rushed there, it
seemed - the waiting area was now as efficiently quiet as it had been
before. And we'd been forgotten. 
  

There were still a couple of nurses around the place who recognised us
from visiting Duckie and Mommy's checkups, and I guess that was why
none of them stopped us as we went for a wander around the place. The
last time Duckie had taken us down to the lab had been just before her
wedding, and I knew that since then she'd gotten some new equipment.
The place was growing larger, rapidly. Newer, more expensive
technology, more staff, buying out and furnishing more levels of the
building.  
They almost had as much stuff now as they used to have at the compound,
I calculated, peering into the lab through the glass window in the
door. There were two people at work in there, a man and a woman, and I
wondered how they would react if I went in and described to them the
purpose and processes of all their equipment, told them in detail how I
had been created, about the artificial womb, the oxygenated liquid that
had eased the transition from fluid environment to gaseous environment,
reeled off everything I knew about cultivating the growth of fetuses
and stimulating the brain of an unborn child to greatly increase
intelligence. I could picture their jaws gaping, their wondering
stares. It was a game I liked to play, imagining confounding people
with my brilliance - and not just stupid stuff like multiplying big
numbers or even composing literature esays on Shakespearean plays, but
adult stuff, knowledge and skill that commanded respect, not
affectionate but condescending smiles. I hated those smiles. 

I thought about knocking, asking them to maybe process our blood tests,
but remembering the haemorrhaging woman I decided against it. I didn't
want to get in the way. 

We went back upstairs again and sat in the waiting room, me and Josh
both swinging our legs, our matching black school shoes. I stared at
them. Boring shoes.  
We must have waited for forty minutes or so but that was okay. The
nurses at the front desk just assumed we were waiting for a mother to
finish her appointment. Fine by us.  
When Dr Harrison finally appeared from the delivery wing he didn't even
see us at first, he started asking one of the nurses something. Josh
and I slid off out seats and I felt a little guilty. I didn't like
people thinking we were pests. I knew that hurt Joshie. 
"I thought you kids left an hour ago." 

"Is that woman going to be okay?" I had to ask. "Is the baby going to
be okay?" 

"She'll be fine; we managed to stop the bleeding. The baby was very
premature, though. It's a bit early to tell." 

"How premature?" I asked. I could remember Duckie telling me all about
treating premmy babies, about who they could and couldn't save.  

"Twenty-one weeks."  

"So you lowered the baby's body temperature, right? To reduce brain
damage due to oxygen deprivation?" 

He looked at me, tired but curious. "Yeah, we did that. So Jacqui
*does* talk shop all the time." 

"I think it's interesting, that's all," I allowed. I gave him a smile,
hoping I hadn't gotten Duckie into trouble somehow, or myself into
trouble, for that matter. I didn't think so, though. Because what he
*was* thinking was how much I was like her. I wondered if Duckie knew
Dr Harrison had a crush on her.  

He patted me on the head, a little discomforted, I thought. "You kids
really ought to get back to school. Somebody's going to think you've
been abducted." 

"Can't we just wait for the PCR results?" I pleaded. "It's really,
*really* important." 

He hesitated. "I promised Jacqui I'd send you back to school... Already
you've been here too long. Your teachers are going to be worried..." 

"It's a creative arts workshops day," I fibbed quickly. "Nobody's going
to miss us." In reality, I was starting to worry about how we'd cover
our absence. I hadn't planned for it to take this long and if I wasn't
back for drama class Mr Kesby would know something was up... 

He frowned, then sighed. "Fine. I'll see if I can put a rush on your
tests. But you're out of here by eleven on the dot, no later. I mean
that." 

I smiled. "Thank you," I said, honestly grateful. He headed off again
and I squeezed Joshie's hand, a little excited, a little apprehensive,
but glad that things were at least moving.  
  

We sat down to wait again, Josh pulling out his handdrawn map and
staring at it, making tiny tears along each edge of the page so that it
had a fringe. I sat thinking. The excuse I'd figured out earlier would
still work if we were back at school in the next half hour, but after
that would be stretching the boundaries of belief. There was only so
long that people would believe I was comforting my upset little
brother. As time kept on ticking by I began to work though options in
my mind, trying to come up with some excuse to cover our absence. It
wasn't that we'd get in much trouble at school - everybody would be
concerned rather than angry. It was because I didn't want to upset
Mommy or Daddy or Grandma.  

Luckily, at eight minutes to eleven a nurse approached her. I
recognised her - Gemma. She'd been there when Erin was born. 
"Hey, guys. Doc Harrison sent me to take you back to school." 

"We're waiting for test results," I protested, not standing. 

She smiled, or maybe it was a grimace. "Yeah, about that..." 

"We're not leaving til the results come back," I said stubbornly. 

"Well, the test results *have* come back, sweetie, it's just that Doc
Harrison thought he should try calling your Mom and Dad and telling
them first." 

"You can't do that!" I protested, getting to my feet. "He never said he
was going to do that!" 

"It's just that we're dealing with adult issues here, hon. Legally, we
can't just -" 

"It's *my* bloodtest!"  

I felt humiliated and infuriated, and, what's more, betrayed by Duckie
and Doctor Harrison. I was being treated like a child. But then, I
realised, I was starting to act like one. 
I controlled my temper with difficulty. This was something I
passionately needed to *know*. Didn't I have rights? 

"Sweetie..." She stared at me and I stared back, resolved. "Let me go
check," she agreed, clearly reluctant. 

She returned two minutes later with Dr Harison and I found myself
unable to pull my eyes from the manilla folder he held in one hand. 

"Did Jacqueline tell you before to do what we wanted?" I demanded
before he could open his mouth to speak. 

"Jacqueline asked me to call her with the results as soon as they came
back," he admitted slowly. 

"Did you call her?" 
I was so unbelieveably angry at him and at her. We weren't just
gullible little school kids and Duckie at least should know that. Why
didn't she trust us with that information? Why did they have such a
hard time just treating us as equals? 

"I put through a call to Australia, -" 

"Did she tell you to tell us?" 

"It wasn't Jacqui who answered the phone, puss." He kneeled down in
front of me. "You know Graham, don't you? He answered." 

"And he told you not to tell us," I realised, silently hating him. 

"He didn't know what was going on. He said we should call your parents
and so-" 

"I told you not to call them!" I protested. I felt myself starting to
cry. I just wanted to be told. It was my right to know. Where was the
justice in witholding the information from me? This whole stupid world
is just so unjust. Whole stupid world. 

"-we tried to call them, but we couldn't get through. Their celphones
seem to be switched off." 

For a moment I panicked, but then it was clear - they had turned off
their phones for the plane home. They were coming home. The relief -
and squeamish, apprehensive fear - was immense, and managed for a
second to allay my anger and frustration. But as my eyes lit on the
folder in his hand I felt it all surging back through me.  

"Try calling Duckie again," I insisted. "Try her on her celphone." 

Gemma produced a tissue and was trying to wipe away my tears as if I
was a baby. I pulled away from her, infuriated. I could wipe my own
nose. This was just ridiculous.  

I think it was only because I was crying that Dr Harrison picked up a
cordless phone at the front desk and handed it to me to put in Duckie's
number. Josh had a better memory for numbers and took it from me,
punching in the digits and silently giving the phone back to the
doctor. We all waited, listening to the buzzes and crackles of
international connections, then, finally, a ringing. I heard Duckie's
"Hello?" and then Dr Harrison moved away from us so we couldn't follow
the conversation. 

"This is important, huh?" Gemma asked quietly. She was looking at us
curiously. "You kids are very brave, coming here all by yourselves." 

Don't patronise us, I wanted to say, but Josh spoke before I could. "We
just want the truth," he said quietly. 

"We're entitled to it," I added, not caring if I was being
antagonistic. Gemma reacted almost as if it were a threat, pulling back
a little, giving us a tight smile.  

"Sure you are," she agreed, but she obviously didn't understand. She
stood straighter and in the following silence I reviewed our cover
story to distract myself. Assuming we left within the next ten minutes,
with or without results, we would be back at school by half past
eleven. Two and a half hours to account for. I didn't know how I was
going to do that. 

It ended up being only two or three more minutes until Dr Harrison
returned. He was still holding the folder and phone and I prayed that
it was a good sign. 

"Well?" I demanded. "What did she say?" 

"She doesn't think that you should be allowed to see the test results,"
he admitted. But he continued before I could errupt. "*However*, she
would like to talk to you." 

He held out the phone and I took it. "Duckie? Where are you? Why'd you
leave the house?" 

"Hey, sweetie. You caught me at the hairdressers. I'm sorry - I had a
booking and... " Since when had the hairdressers sounded like a
hospital, I wondered. "I hear you've been getting pretty tangled in the
red tape." 

I didn't want to have to tell her about that, it would only make me
cry. "Is it true? Are we a match?" 

She drew a deep breath. It sounded as though she was still coming to
grips with it. "Yeah, you are, baby." 

Suddenly I realised that I didn't know whether this was good news or
bad news. It meant that Daddy was my uncle; it gave me a background
beyond a sterilized lab and otherwise focused parents. But it also
meant that Daddy's hunt for Samantha had ended with the ground, not the
skies, and I knew how much that would hurt him. I didn't want Daddy to
be hurt. 
Josh was tugging at my arm and I quickly handed him the phone. He took
the news expressionlessly, but his grip on my arm tightened. I could
tell he was having the same conflicting response.  

He said goodbye to Duckie and hung up, handing the phone back silently.
Dr Harrison himself drove us back to school, signing us in at the
office and apologising that our supposed before-school doctor's
appointment had been delayed due to emergencies at the clinic and he
hadn't wanted us at school until a blood test came back ruling out a
communicable flu virus. He smiled at us as he left and I gave him a
small smile in return, not forgiving him for making it so terribly
difficult but appreciating that he was at least trying. Handed late
slips and sent off to our respective classes, Josh and I, officially
flu-less, went to get our bags from the library. I tucked the manilla
folder Dr Harrison had handed me into my school bag but then pulled it
out again, needing to see for myself.  
I picked up Josh's and my own PCR prints - they matched, obviously, but
somehow it was still a relief to have that proof. Then I picked up
Daddy's, slowly, sliding it into place over ours, expelling the breath
I'd been holding. Somehow I'd needed that, needed to hold proof in my
hands. Maybe it was the new doubt I felt about Duckie, I thought
unhappily as I slipped the prints back in the folder and the folder in
my bag between textbooks.  

"What now, Joshie?" I mused. 

He shrugged. "Wait and see." But despite his non-committal attitude I
knew he was feeling the same confusion and disquiet I was.  

I reached to give him a quick hug, more for my sake than his, and we
each went to class. I felt an odd sort of surrealism as I snuck into
drama class and joined in the impro games, as I sat working by myself
in math on a trig equation although we were supposed to work in pairs,
as for once I didn't raise my hand once to argue a point in English.
And every time I looked at the manilla folder poking out of my bag my
stomach jumped. I wanted to go home. That was the all consuming
thought. Home wasn't just a refuge for Mom and Daddy - it was a
sanctuary for me and Josh too, a place where, at the end of the day, I
could be assured of love and comfort and trust and not condescension
but be treated as an equal. I wanted that badly. Why did it take so
long to grow up? 

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

- SCULLY POV - 

We decided to leave Erin with Mom until after our meeting with Skinner
and only stopped home briefly to shower and change. I tried to check
Mulder's bandages but he was being unco-operative so I allowed him his
space. He'd been in a bad mood before and it was only worse now - our
flight had been turbulent, tough both physically and psychologically.  
Skinner was waiting for us, which meant I wasn't going to get an
opportunity to confront Mulder until after the meeting. In a way, I
almost welcomed the postponement - I still didn't know what I could
say, what I believed. Not only dealing with the news of Samantha but
now with shooting an innocent child. Not fatally, thank God. I don't
think he would still be in one piece if he'd killed her. It would have
crushed him. 

The meeting with Skinner wasn't long, fortunately. He only wanted a
brief rundown of what had happened, which we gave him, details of the
case and the night's events. 
"And this girl, Louisa Redburg - she was in the house, after all?" 

Mulder affirmed it. 

"And how was it exactly, Agents, that you were shooting at an unarmed
fourteen year old girl?" he demanded. Were we the cause of his bad day,
I wondered, or were we just the icing on the cake?  

"There was an apparition," Mulder explained tightly. "A violent,
harmful spiritual entity -" 

"A ghost, you mean," Skinner interrupted. 

Mulder stared at Skinner. "I was attacked: shot at. In defending myself
I let off several shots attempting to repel my attacker." 

"And one of these bullets ended up going through Louisa Redburg's arm?"

"It was dark and dusty, I had been stabbed and was caught up in a
galeforce wind," Mulder retorted testily. "I was unaware that she was
there or that I had hit her until the dust cleared." 
  

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

- MULDER POV - 

He stared at me and I stared right back, angry. I didn't want to be
here, answering these questions. I just wanted to go home and block it
all out. Block everything out.  

Scully spoke up suddenly. "Sir, it's possible that I may have been the
one who shot Louisa." 

"What?" Stunned, I spoke the word aloud, staring at her. She stared
right back at me. I couldn't for the life of me figure out the game she
was playing. 

"I accidently fired my weapon earlier in the evening. It's possible
that Louisa was wounded and only later lost consciousness, when she was
found by Mulder." She bit her lip, but continued calmly, "I think
ballistics evidence will show that the bullet in Louisa Redburg came
from my gun." 

What the hell are you doing, Scully? I wondered. Protecting me? 

Skinner was staring at us. Then, as if unable to figure out what was
going on either, he pushed back his chair and stood. "Get back to me
with a report once you've got your stories straight." 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

He managed to hold it in until we were in the car, though I could see
what an effort even that was. "What the hell do you think you're doing,
Scully?" he exploded. "Why are you taking the blame for this?" 

I had my reasons, but right then wasn't the time to explain them to
him. "I'll tell you when we get home. Let's go get Erin, first." 

We collected Erin and the kids' stuff from Mom's on the way home. Erin
had been in a bad mood, Mom said; she had a slight temperature and Mom
thought maybe it was a virus. She was cranky but I just held her for a
full two or three minutes, soaking up some of that precious innocence.
Mulder only reached out to touch her, letting her take his pinkie
finger, before pulling away again and getting into the car. He was so
contained during the drive home and it worried me immensely, but I
couldn't argue while we were driving, especially with Erin in the car. 

I put Erin in her crib in her bedroom and went into ours. Mulder was
waiting for me and I didn't hesitate. 

"I have my reasons for taking the blame," I said quietly. He didn't
answer, only kept watching me, so I continued. "We've got bills to pay,
soon maybe a mortgage... We can't afford to both lose our jobs." 

He jumped up. "Your job wasn't ever *at* risk here, Scully!" 

I stared him down, fighting hard to keep calm. "Mulder, I let you
continue work on a case even when you were clearly psychologically and
physically unfit for duty. As both an FBI agent and doctor I should
have known better and I should have stopped you. I was the one who made
the decision that we went there, and I was the one who gave you a gun
and sent you in there alone. I'm responsible for the fact that you went
back in there. That's my responsibility, and that puts me just as much
as fault as you, which means we both go down. But if I take
responsibility for accidently shooting the girl, if only *I* take the
fall -" 

"If only one of us has to take the fall then let me be me!" he
demanded. His jaw was set, his eyes dark with hurt. "I did it. It's
incomprehensible that you should be punished for an action of mine. You
weren't responsible and we both know that. And without me, you've got a
future in the bureau. You know that. Everybody hates me, but they
respect you." 

"I can't do that, Mulder," I told him quietly, but with utter
conviction. I couldn't take him away from the x-files. I couldn't go on
without him. "You know I can't. *You're* the x-files, Mulder. I've just
tagged along, helped and hindered." 

"No!" he shouted and I jumped at the sudden volume. "Don't give me that
B.S., Scully! You know you're just as much a part of the x-files as I
am. Don't even say stuff like that. I won't do it." The fierce anger
he's displayed seemed to fade but his eyes were still intense. "I'm not
going to lose you there. They're not going to split us up." 

"Mulder, just don't make this any harder than it is," I pleaded, heart
aching. The thought of either of us leaving the bureau terrified me but
I'd made my decision and as insane as it seemed I was going to stick by
it. Nothing would shake my faith in the necessity for Mulder in the
bureau. The stakes we were playing for were too high to lose such a
high profile player. If you've gotta sacrifice the queen to protect the
king's position, do it. 

"I don't want to talk about this any more, for the moment," I told him
quietly. Because if we kept arguing it was inevitable that he'd wear me
down. 
I reached out to touch him but he turned away from me, almost shrinking
from my touch. I blinked back the tears and left the room, returning to
Erin's bedroom. Checking her temperature, I found she still had a
slight fever and gave her some Baby Panadol. She only seemed to grow
more irritable and I held her, pacing with her for a while. She was
fretful, clinging to me, listlessly twisting in my arms.  

I drew her a bath but she cried as I was bathing her and then wouldn't
eat or drink anything I offered her. I put her back in the crib and she
immediately got to her feet, reaching to be picked up again, whining
insistently. It was almost as if she were responding to my own misery,
to the tension between Mulder and I. It wouldn't be the first time.  
I sat in the rocker with her, trying to get her to go to sleep, gently
stroking her face. At first she was fidgeting, tugging at my hair,
squirming and rubbing her eyes, but then she started to calm down and
finally fell asleep, breathing noisily through her open mouth. I laid
her in the crib, running a hand over her sweaty hair, kissing her
flushed cheek. I checked her temperature and she was still ninety nine.
It didn't help that the day was warming up and her room was hot and
airless. I flipped on the ceiling fan, watching Erin sleep as I
listened to the rhythmic whirring. I no longer felt angry at Mulder or
even really upset, but rather a tired emptiness within me, a desire for
comfort and affection. 

I left the bedroom and found Mulder stretched out on the couch. It was
almost chilly in the living room - Mulder had switched the air
conditioning on when we got home - and I slipped my jacket back on. He
lay still, his eyes closed, but I could tell from his breathing that he
wasn't asleep. He was still wearing his dress pants but had stripped
down to his white undershirt. His hair was ruffled and he needed a
shave, his face was still grazed and nicked. He looked worn, haunted. 

"Mulder?" I said softly, crouching beside him. 

He opened his eyes, moving his head slightly to look at me, his dark
eyes searching my face. I thought he would say something about our
argument earlier but instead he reached out to touch the the fabric of
my pants against my hip. "Did you dress in black on purpose?" 

"For mourning, you mean?" I shook my head. "Not really. Should I have?"

"No," he mused quietly, his fingers sliding up my side, his thumb
working in circles. "I don't want mourning." 

He slid both hands around me, tugging, and I accordingly slid closer to
him, reaching to return the touch, my hand on his upper arm. "No,
closer," he insisted, and I sat on the edge of the couch beside him. He
reached up, touching my hair. "It's like gold," he murmured, his lips
barely moving as his fingers roamed through my hair, played with it. "I
like it wavy, bouncey... so feminine, the way it frames your face.
You're beautiful. I don't tell you often enough, do I, Scully?" 

"You do okay," I assured him gently, touched by his rambles though my
heart still ached with concern. 

His hands moved to my jacket, playing with the cuffs, caressing the
collars, touching the lining. His need for touch, to consume every
detail about me, was both disturbing and comforting. He buttoned it up
for me, then straight away unbuttoned it again, easing it off me, the
whole time his dark eyes fixated on my face. 
He tucked his thumbs under the waistband of my pants and I reached
down, putting my hands over his, knowing I had to stop him. "Mulder,
don't do this if it's just a distraction," I told him unhappily. 

He shook his head, freeing his hands and easing my thin, sleeveless top
up so that he could kiss my belly. "I don't want to think about it," he
murmured, working his way up, lifting the top off over my head. "I just
want to think about you." 

I caught his chin and stared into his eyes. They were filled with an
indescribably overwhelming *need*. I nodded, silently giving my
permission, allowing my understanding, my comfort. I wouldn't deny
those things to him. 

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

- ASTRID POV - 

Daddy picked us up from school. I felt my stomach twisting with guilt
when I saw him, panicking for a moment that somehow he'd found out
about our excursion that morning and come to yell at us. It was
irrational fear; he was going to find out anyhow. I was going to have
to tell him. And I didn't really think he'd be angry - not at us, at
least. 

He bent down to hug us hello and I could tell by his wet hair and fresh
scent that he'd just had a shower. There was only one reason why Daddy
had a shower in the middle of the afternoon and I knew what that reason
was. I also knew that if he was still so unhappy after that, this was
going to take a *lot* of getting over.   

I pulled out the folder and handed it to him silently. He took it,
thinking it was just a school assignment. I watched his face, saw the
realisation flooding it, his eyes darting across the pages.  
"When did you do this?" 

"This morning. Josh and I skipped school," I admitted, adding, "It was
my decision. It's my fault." 

"You're not in trouble, kiddo," he murmured absently, his eyes glued to
the PCR prints. He ran a finger lightly over them as if uncertain if
they were actually there and genuine.  

Finally he looked down at me. "You went and got this done, all by
yourselves?" 

"We caught a bus to the clinic. Dr Harrison did the tests... he wasn't
going to tell us the results but he told Jacqui and she told us." I
added, emphatically, "I hate red tape." 

"And there's plenty more of it ahead of you," he assured me, his eyes
back on the pages. I didn't like how absorbed he seemed to be. Now
didn't seem like a time when such intense focus was a good thing. 

"Daddy?" I tugged at his arm and he closed the folder, passing it back
to me and fishing for his keys.  

"Yeah, let's go home," he said, as if agreeing to my unspoken plea. I
knew what he was thinking - he dreamed of home, as we all did. I had
been longing for the comfort of home ever since we'd returned to
school. But already I had a funny feeling about it, as if the tension
had compromised the security, threatened our refuge. Home had always
been the place where we could retreat and lick our wounds, return to
the real world where things Mom and Dad witnessed on the job simply
didn't exist, get a dose of reality in the form of diapers and family
dinners and math homework and sitcoms on FOX, all that was so
wonderfully simple and natural and even mundane - so *real*. 
But not now. Daddy showed Mom the PCR prints and in return she showed
him a photograph of somebody called Hillary Walkins. 
"That's not her," Daddy said impatiently, barely glancing at the photo.
"She's similar, but the girl I saw had blue eyes, not green. And she
was younger." 

He was stressed out and so was Mommy. Even Erin was unhappy and Josh
and I played with her for a bit, trying to cheer her up. It wasn't as
if we really had much else to do - Mom and Dad were too busy with their
own stuff to worry about us. But that was okay - Josh and I
understood.  
I did wish, though, that they'd talk to us about Cate being Samantha
and what that meant to them and to us, because at the moment I didn't
really know how I was supposed to be feeling. I guess I kinda still
felt numb - that was how Mom and Dad looked like they felt. They looked
kinda angry with each other, too - Mom kept snapping and Dad was kinda
sulking, all quiet. But I think that was just the stress.  
Josh and I talked about it a bit but we didn't really figure that it
was anything more than Samantha til we heard them arguing again that
night when we were supposed to be in bed. I missed Joshie - even though
we both had our own bedrooms now I missed being able to talk to him as
we fell asleep, so sometimes I'd sneak into his room after Mom and Dad
said goodnight and we'd share his bed. We were both trying to get to
sleep that night when their voices - they'd been talking, just quietly
- started to get louder and louder. They were yelling at each other,
maybe not exactly angry but more pleading, like they were unhappy.
Mommy kept saying "Only one of us can take the fall," and Daddy would
respond something that '*I* shot her' - always the emphasis on the 'I',
and I knew they weren't talking about Samantha.  

Had Daddy shot somebody? Badly? Had he killed somebody? Would be be
fired? Jailed? He would go to prison for murder, wouldn't he? I
realised how terrible this must be on top of everything else. 

"Try not to think about it," I whispered to Joshie, because I knew he
was still awake and listening like I was. 

"Too late," he whispered back.  
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

"You two are extraordinarily lucky, you know that?" Skinner stared at
us without the hint of a smile.  

"I wouldn't say that," Mulder responded, just as grimly. "Given the
hell my life has become over the last forty-eight hours." 

"Well, you've got something to be thankful for." Skinner nudged a file
across the table and I picked up the x-ray within it, holding it up to
study it. "Her doctors were able to repair all the nerve damage
successfully. She should recover eighty to one hundred percent use of
her right arm. You're very lucky." I looked up at him but couldn't be
certain who had been specifically addressing. Had he believed my claim
yesterday? 
He reached across the table to draw the file back toward him, slapping
it closed and tossing it aside. "Furthermore, due to the success of the
surgery and the good prognosis her family has decided not to press
charges against you - either of you, that is. I've written my report on
the matter, and I see no reason why this should go any further." 

Our stunned relief must have showed because he continued quickly,
"*However*, this is still nevertheless a very serious incident and as
such I have no choice but to suspend you both for four weeks - without
pay - starting immediately.  . . .But, as I said: you're damn lucky." 

He eyed us both knowingly. I knew exactly what he was thinking, why he
had chosen this course of discipline. He could see that Mulder and I
both needed the time off, that we were wrecks, that Mulder in
particular would have been not only unproductive but also dangerous in
the field. The disciplinary action was a way of easing his own
conscience at downplaying what had happened. It was the way I imagined
my Dad had treated his crew. Dad could be stern; he was as full of
rules as every other navy or military man. But he was fair. There were
still a few fair men in our unfair world. 
  

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

- MULDER POV - 

We were becoming insomniacs. Not just Scully and I but the kids as
well. Scully had had trouble sleeping sometimes since the Sabrina
incident and at the moment I was averaging two or three nightmares a
week - my only salvation being the near impossibility of sleep. Josh
and Astrid had started staying up til all hours, too. Astrid had always
done her own thing, staying up to finish assignments or finish a book,
and there had been a few times in the past where I'd found Josh's light
streaming through the gaps in the curtain around his old bed at three
or four in the morning. Sometimes he was still reading or writing,
other times he had fallen asleep with the book open on his chest. Now
it seemed that every night one or both of them were awake and restless.
When it came to the kids it was stress from school, I thought, the
overload of work and thoughts in their mind that wouldn't let them
rest. Chances were that every night at least one member of the family
would be sleepless, especially now with Samantha. 

"Let's take them out of school, go somewhere."  

Scully, lying beside me just as awake as I was, slowly turned her head.
"Go where?" 

"Take a vacation. Go anywhere. Get away for a couple of weeks." 

She sighed, moving restlessly. "We can't afford it, Mulder. With four
weeks without pay it's going to be hard enough keeping all the bills
paid..." 

"So we dig into our savings," I said recklessly. 

"No." She shook her head. "We made an agreement, Mulder. We said we'd
never spend that money." 

"We're going to need it some day,' I protested. "Sending the kids to
college, -" 

"So it's a college fund. We're not touching it until then. We can
manage without it." 

"Why does it matter so much to you what we do with it?" I demanded,
getting angry. At three forty-eight am I had a right to be frustrated. 

"Because it was important to you, Mulder! It was important to you that
we got along without it." 

I kicked back the sheet and stood, stretching my limbs and spine,
rolling my neck. I didn't want to hear it, didn't want to think about
it.  

"Mulder," she said gently, "My mom could lend us some more money to
cover the next -" 

"No  charity!" We took too much from Mrs Scully. She did more for us
than we deserved. "We'll stay at home, we'll watch our expenses." 

"Fine," she agreed tightly. I could tell she was hurt but I  didn't
know how to reach out to her after I had pushed her away. I wondered if
I'd ever figure that out. 
"You can't just run away from this," she added quietly, not looking at
me. "You can't just move on as if this hasn't happened." 

Couldn't I? I thought silently. I wasn't so sure. 

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

- JACQUELINE POV - 

"Ebony, the chocolate or the caramel? No, don't just point, tell me.
Chocolate or caramel? Say it. No, you can't have it until you say it.
Caramel. Ca-ra-mel." 

"Just give it to her," I told Grae. I could see the fear and
unhappiness in Ebony's eyes at his bully tactics. "You're scaring her."

"I'm just trying to teach her to talk!" he protested. "Just back off,
Jacqui. Ebs, you've gotta tell me. Just say it: caramel." 

But she looked away, rubbing at her eyes, fidgeting uncomfortably. 

I took the wrapped caramel ice-cream bar from Grae's hand and gave it
to Ebony. She took it shyly, sliding past the both of us and going
outside. I heard the screen door swing closed after her with its usual
rattle. 

"I was almost there," he said sharply. "I almost had her talking." 

"We can't force her to talk if she doesn't want to." 

He looked at me as if I were a simpleton. "She's not mute just because
she *wants* to be. It's deeper than that." 

And it ran deep with him, too. The past few days any discussion we'd
had about Ebony had inevitably become an argument. We'd been told that
if we were staying in Australia she had to be put into a school and
obviously we couldn't just enrol her in the local primary school. The
closest Deaf and Blind School was almost an hour away and unless we
could get Ebony talking that was where she was going - despite the fact
that an audiologist had run tests and assured us Ebony's hearing was
perfectly fine. It was her muteness that classified her as having a
disability - the fact that it was psychological rather than physical
didn't change the necessity for special schooling. Grae was getting
more frustrated by the day. She understood English, we knew that. She
could read English and follow spoken instructions flawlessly - she just
wouldn't talk. The therapist she saw for an hour every week - it was a
forty minute drive to his office and then the same back again - wasn't
making any progress. He'd suggested that she learn sign language if she
refused to communicate vocally, and I think the idea that Ebony appear
so handicapped angered Grae.  
"She's *not* deaf," he had told me, endless times. And so he kept
bullying her, trying to get her to talk.  

"You're not helping her by pushing her like this," I told him. "She's
going to end up hating you." 

"She won't," he retorted. 

"Didn't you see in her eyes? You're scaring her. You're making her do
something she's not ready to do. Just let her take her time. She'll get
there." 

"Just shut up for a minute, Jacqueline." He was trying to think but
that hardly gave him the right .... 

"Don't speak to me like that," I said quietly. 

He turned around to face me slowly, and sighed. He was running his
hands through his hair and I suddenly realised how grey he was - maybe
it was the way the light caught it. He looked tired. "Sorry." 

 I reached out to touch his arm lightly. "Don't be sorry. Just don't do
it again." 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

Graham had taken Ebony to visit his father in the nursing home - they
went the same time each week without fail, Jacqui said. I wondered
vaguely if that was why Jacqui always chose this time to call us.  

"If the world didn't suck we'd all fall off," Jacqueline offered with a
philosophical shrug. She waved at me, trying to get my attention. I'd
completely zoned out.  

I stared at her image, not really knowing how to respond to the quip,
not having the energy to. Mulder, Mulder, Mulder... his name thudded
endlessly in my tired brain.  

"What's up, Dana?" she pressed, cocking an eyebrow. She always seemed
to sit close to the camera, and I always felt as if she were in my
face, needed to take a step back to give myself some space. "How's Fox
doing with the whole Samantha thing?" 

"It's more than that, now." 

"What do you mean, more than that?" 

I really, *really* didn't want to have to explain everything, but I did
it as briefly as possible. "Bad case, we made mistakes. We've both been
suspended, four weeks without pay." 

"Yowch." Jacqueline pulled a sympathetic face. "That's got to be bad." 

"We've been through worse," I answered tightly, though I wasn't exactly
sure. This would have to rank right up near the top of disasters and
depression. I was having enormous difficulty in dealing with Mulder.
The truth about Samantha - and the mistake that he had made in shooting
Louisa Redburg - had driven a wedge between us. It hadn't been the
first time, but it was rare that he didn't seem to display any interest
in drawing closer to me again - and that I was having a great deal of
trouble myself putting in the effort of reaching out. 

Jacqui summoned up a smile. "Hey, you should make the most of your time
off. Take the kids away on vacation or something?" 

"We can't afford it." By now that answer came as automatically as "I'm
fine". 

Her false smile faded and she looked at me curiously, as if about to
divulge a secret. "Come visit us," she said softly. 

"Jacqueline, we really can't afford -" 

"I'll pay," she broke in.  

"I can't ask you to do that," I protested. I felt uneasy taking gifts
from Jacqui.  

"Listen, we need to discuss the whole Samantha-Cate thing. That's
something that needs to be done face to face. And if I could come back
to the US, I would. But I'm stuck here for a while longer. It's only
fair that I pay your fares out. The kids, too." 

How could she be so free with money, I wondered. Although, admittedly,
she'd given herself quite a handsome salary working at the clinic -
what she had been selling people had been willing to pay for. She could
afford the airfares, no problems. It wasn't even the charity of the
action that bothered me the most. It was the near-desperation of the
suggestion; it was a plea. 

"How are things between you and Graham?" I asked softly. 

She must have seen the connections I had made because she didn't seem
surprised by the question. "Depends." 

"On what?" 

"The time of day, the weather, everything and anything." 

"Has he been violent?" 

She shook her head immediately. "No. Not at all. He shouts, when he
gets frustrated, and he swears... but I can deal with that. I don't
like it but I put up with it and try to change it." She was rubbing her
hands together, I noticed. "Dana, come visit," she pleaded. "I really
want you to see the place. Just make it a vacation, kick back and
relax." 

"It's hardly going to be a vacation for Mulder," I reminded her. The
idea of relaxing at a time like this seemed almost ridiculous. 

"Well... It'll be a change of scenery, if nothing more. You guys need
that. The kids do too. You're all burnt out." She paused. "Is Fox angry
at me?" 

I didn't want to lie but I didn't really know how to tell the truth.
"He's not angry at *you*, per se," I said slowly. "But he's angry...
and upset." 

"How would you suggest I..." she frowned, trying to phrase what she
wanted to say most clearly. "...that I deal with him about all of it? I
mean, will he listen if I try to tell him how sorry I am? Because...
God, I'm so sorry, Dana." 

"I know," I agreed heavily. I'd seen the genuine grief and regret she'd
displayed at finally realising what she had done when she pressed the
muzzle of the gun against her parents' heads. That had been horror at
what it had made of her, horror at the truth of the situation, that she
had taken the lives of two misguided, very human, beings. And to
discover that one of them was the holy grail, the one truth and hope
that a man had ever lived for... 
"It's just going to take some time," I told her. "It's deep. It's so,
so deep..." 

Rubbing my eyes, I felt weighed down with weariness. For my own sake I
wanted to stay as far out of Mulder's agony as I could, but I knew I
had to make the effort to be with him, help him through the grief and
anger. But, God, it was hard. It was exhausting. 

"How are the kids holding up?" 

To be honest, I hadn't really had much time to devote to the kids since
we'd returned. "I don't know," I confessed, feeling helpless and
horrible, neglectful. I barely seemed to find the time and energy to
organize meals and bedtimes - I didn't even think about getting beyond
that, not yet. 

"I think," Jacqui said slowly, "that it's going to be difficult for
them... Keep an eye on Astrid in particular. She needs to be talked to.
She'll go mad if she's kept out of the loop. She doesn't pick up things
by just watching, like Josh does." 

"I wish you were here," I said impulsively. I wished that she was there
to take the kids out, get them out of our way, comfort them and explain
to them what was going on because at the moment I just couldn't. 

"I wish so too," she agreed wistfully. And, no doubt, she wanted just
as much reassurance as the kids did. She needed to lean on us just as
much as we needed to lean on her. 

"Then come back," I pleaded. I needed her companionship, the
understanding and support of another adult that I wasn't getting from
Mulder. And I wanted to see her, see for myself how she was, how she
was dealing with all this, how things with Graham were. I couldn't
think about him without a little fear creeping in. 

"I can't, Dana." 

"Why not?" Was Graham not letting her leave?  

She grimaced, but her face was otherwise unreadable. "It's just not
possible at the moment. I would, if I could, but... Come visit us,
please?" 

I couldn't agree to it, certainly not without consulting Mulder and the
kids, but also because I didn't know how much damage the stress of
going over there would cause. We were just all so precariously
balanced.. 

"I'll have to talk to Mulder about it," I said finally. "That's all I
can promise." 
  

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

- JACQUELINE POV - 

A truck rattled past on the highway and the verandah vibrated under us,
rumbling like thunder. I was used to it by now. 
We were sitting on an old sofa on the veranda just outside out bedroom,
the bedroom light shining out so that we were in light and shadows. It
was a chilly night and Grae had draped a huge old blanket over us, so
big that it bunched and hung in loose, thick folds. He was warm and I
snuggled down contentedly against him, sleepy though it was only just
past nine.  I yawned and it ended up as a sigh, almost catlike. Grae
chuckled. 

"What's up?" 

"Nothing," I fibbed, closing my eyes and pressing my face against his
shoulder, but pulling back as I yawned again. There was a sort of
relief, always, when he was kind to me, when he took care of me. I
could stop being strong for a while, stop having to think about
everything for myself. 

"Bullshit." But his retort, like his smile, was goodhumoured. 

"Just... Fox and Dana." 

"Oh." Immediately he tensed a little, some of the life went out of him.
He always went like that when I brought them up and I never knew if I
was sad or angry.  

"Don't go like that," I pleaded, maybe a little uninhibited by the
sleepy snugness. 

"Sorry, pumpkin." He kissed my hair and I slumped back against him. "Go
on, pour out," he prompted cryptically. 

I told him of my conversation with Dana earlier in the day, briefly
recounted what I knew of Fox's history, his - and later Dana's, too -
search for his sister, how they were coping... 
"I asked them to come stay awhile," I admitted, snuggling even closer
because I wasn't sure how he'd respond. 

"Shit, Jacqui..." He sighed heavily. I sensed he was going to go on but
then he stopped himself to think. He wanted me all to himself, I knew.
But I wanted to help Fox and Dana, and I wanted their help. I wanted
Fox's forgiveness - I didn't deserve it, but I wanted it. I wanted
comfort and I wanted absolution. 

"I'm a part of it all," I explained quietly. I was treading carefully.
I had told him that I had shot my parents, but I don't know if he'd
really heard it, really believed it. I don't think he had. "I'm
responsible." 

"You're not responsible." 

"Don't go easy on me. I know I did something unforgiveable... but it
was something I could deal with, until I found out who Cate really was.
Then it just gained this whole other dimension... I didn't just kill
Cate, who was just so unemotional that she didn't seem human... I
killed somebody's *sister*. I killed the sister of somebody I love -"
An involuntary jerk went through his body at the word "- and I took
away any chance he had of meeting her again." 

"If your parents hadn't been killed, he never would have investigated
the Genesis Project," Grae pointed out. "He never would have known you,
or Astrid or Josh." 

"True," I agreed, secretly heartened not only by the suggestion but by
his willingness to comfort me even when it came to Dana and Fox. "They
never would have gotten Erin, either. They might not have even have
admitted to each other... God, that would have been strange." I could
still remember their fumbling efforts, the awkwardness, the wistful
longing I'd seen in both of them for a more fulfilling relationship. 

I yawned and Grae hugged me against him. "Beddy byes for you, too?" he
teased cynically. We'd only just put Ebony to bed - well, watched as
she put herself to bed and switched off the light for her, which was as
close as we ever came to tucking her in. 

"What about Dana and Fox?" 

"I think you'll find it's morning in the US, honey." 

"Can they come stay with us?" I persisted. "Please?" 

He sighed, shook his head, then kissed my hair. "Well, since you asked
so nicely, I guess I'll have to agree." A load fell off my shoulders
and I even smiled as he added, "You're such a little manipulator." 

"I try," I agreed playfully. I felt a surge of affection and craned my
neck to kiss him, running my fingers through his greying hair. He
kissed me back, gentler, as if dissuading me, and as I settled down
against him again he kissed the top of my head. We sat in silence for a
few minutes, and I felt myself beginning to nod off. 

He nudged me. "Let's get you into bed before you fall asleep." 
  

Even though I had been the one yawning he nevertheless beat me to
sleep. I lay in the darkened bedroom, somewhere in that land between
asleep and awake, listening to the noises outside, my mind identifying
them automatically without really penetrating any conscious level.  
Grae's hand, lying across my stomach, kept twitching. It unnerved me a
little, this unconscious movement, but his touch was affectionate, not
as suffocating as often enough it seemed to be. I could only stand a
warm embrace for so long.  
Would Fox agree to come over and visit? I prayed so. I wanted them
around, wanted to be able to tell them about the baby because I felt
dishonest keeping it a secret, but I knew Dana would worry, would
doubt...  

I fell asleep, and I dreamed of home. 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

It was only late afternoon but both Mulder and Erin were asleep. I only
saw him at first, curled up on our bed on the covers. It was only as I
moved closer that I saw Erin in his arms; he was curled up around her
like a shield, as if he were protecting her. The sight aroused in me
affection, but it was distant. Lack of sleep and a tense, emotional
household had left me so drained that all I could feel was weariness,
all I could do was sigh. 

"Mommy?" 

It was Astrid. I remembered what Jacqueline had said - that she needed
to be talked to. Jacqui was right, but I had known that. I just hadn't
been able to talk to her, to find the time, to bring myself to blurt
out the pain and confusion and anger that I felt and Mulder felt and my
response to him pushing me away like he was. 
"What is it, sweetie?" 

"Can I shave my legs?" 

Whatever I had been expecting, it was not that. I stared at her and she
stared back at me, but I could see the nervousness and embarrassment at
asking the question in her eyes. I could see Mulder in her eyes, too.
How could we never have picked up the family resemblance? They were
both so like Mulder. 

"Yes," I said slowly. "I suppose so. If you *want* to." I watched her
curiously. 

She nodded vigorously.  

"Do all the other girls in your class do it already?" I wondered aloud.

"About fifty-fifty," Astrid said matter-of-factly, but still with the
same embarrassment. "Some of them wax." 

"But some still don't?" 

"It's not peer pressure," she said defensively. She could see what I
was getting at. "I've been thinking about it for a while. And hairy
legs are really kinda *ugly*." 

She was wearing shorts and I glanced down at her calves. She had tiny
dark hairs on her legs, only sparsely distributed. She could have
gotten away without shaving them at all, ever. 

"I want to," she added, seeing my glance. "I want to try it, at least.
If it's too hard or whatever, then I just won't do it again. I just
want to try it." 

"Sure, sweetie," I agreed, a little amused, a little touched, more
alive now that I could think of something other than Mulder's pain. 
  

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

- MULDER POV - 

Erin woke up before I did and awakened me trying to squirm out of my
arms.  
"Da!" She sunk her few teeth into my arm, trying to get my attention. I
went and put her in front of the TV with Josh and, needing to pee,
headed to the bathroom. I found Scully and Astrid sitting side by side
on a towel on the bathroom floor, each in summer pajamas (Scully always
stole my boxer shorts to wear), each with white-coated legs and a razor
in right hand.  

"Did I interrupt something?" I asked innocently. 

Brief sheepish embarrassment crossed Astrid's face and she glanced at
Scully, as if unsure how to respond. Scully herself, although she
grinned at me, looked a little self-conscious. This wasn't the first
time I'd caught her shaving, I felt sure of it. Why did she look so
shy? 

"Care to join us?" she responded, just as innocently. 

"I'll pass," I answered easily, but I stayed in the doorway, watching
curiously as Scully showed Astrid how to manoeuvre the blade. I'd never
paid quite so much attention to Scully's legs before, I didn't think. I
had a sudden desire to touch her, hold her, but I held back, just
watching. 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

He stayed there the whole time, which made me feel oddly self-conscious
- and it wasn't often that I felt self-conscious about my body with
Mulder, after everything we had been through. Astrid was a little
embarrassed initially but didn't seem to mind after a while. She seemed
excited that I was teaching her, watched me very intently as I showed
her how to avoid nicks, especially when it came to knees. The precise
movements seemed to come naturally to her and she handled the razor
skillfully. She had the grip of a surgeon, I thought as I watched her.
I could almost see the scalpel in her hand. But she didn't have the
temperament, nor the desire. She was still searching. 

We finished up and I left Astrid to clean up, myself following Mulder
out. "Can we talk for a minute?" I asked, catching his arm. 

He nodded and we went into our bedroom. The covers were all crumpled
and I automatically reached to tug them straight, smooth them out.
"Jacqui wants us to go visit her in Australia," I said, focusing on the
corner of the bedcovers. 

"Why?" 

I looked up at him unwillingly. "Go over all the information she's
amassed, formalise some details, I guess. Get away." 

He didn't respond and I had to fight the urge to just forget all about
it, give it up as hopeless. 

"How do you feel about her?" 

"You mean, do I want blood, an eye for an eye, etcetera etcetera
etcetera?"  

"Mulder." My tone was both warning and pleading at once.  

He shrugged, shook his head. and stared at me grimly. The pain in his
eyes was returning, bit by bit. He looked like a vagrant, hair ruffled,
the grazes and lacerations on his face still healing. He stilll needed
a shave. 

"She's offered to pay our way over, because she can't come here... We
can take the kids, make it a vacation, time out..." 

"So now you're endorsing running away?" His remark was quick and
stinging. He looked at me, tightly wound, hurt, angry. 

"You wanted us to take a vacation. Jacqui's offered us one. Away from
here, away from work..." 

"But not away from Samantha." 

"No..." I agreed slowly. "Samantha's going to follow you wherever you
go, whatever rock you try to hide under. It needs to be dealt with." 

"And how do you propose I *deal* with it, Scully?" He was getting in a
temper and I moved forward, not wanting to comfort him but knowing he
needed it. I reached out to cup the back of his head in my hand,
drawing him against me. Deflated, defeated, he let me.  

"Let yourself grieve," I whispered. He was convulsing with silent tears
against me and I wrapped my other arm around him, almost cradling him
against me. "It'll stop hurting so much after a while, and though it'll
still hurt - because the pain will be there forever - you'll find that
you can breathe again." 

He was tired, too, tired of denying and fighting emotion. The flood
came - not the first and it wouldn't be the last - and I let him sob
against me, his fingers gripping, almost clawing at me. I was too tired
to cry myself, though a few tears slipped down my cheeks as I held him,
staring ahead dully. This wasn't the end of it, this was just another
incident, another struggle. I was so very tired of struggling. 

His tears petered out and we lay together on the bed, me sitting up
with the headrest digging into my back, his head in my lap. I couldn't
stop touching his face, no matter how dead I felt to emotion I just
couldn't stop the caresses. 

"Mommy?" Josh, standing in the doorway, only whispered. I think he must
have thought Mulder was asleep. 

"What is it, sweetie?" 

"Erin's hungry. Should I give her something to eat?" 

The mention of food made my own stomach rumble, and I was surprised at
myself. I hadn't eaten in hours, all day even, and I hadn't even
thought of food. "See what you can find in the pantry and bring Erin in
here." He headed out and I called as an afterthought, "Get Astrid to
come in here, too. We've got to have a family talk." 

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

- ASTRID POV - 

Mommy was cradling Daddy's head in her lap like he was hurt. I didn't
really want to go into the bedroom - family talks always made me
uncomfortable and now both Mom and Dad looked like they'd been crying a
lot.  
Daddy looked up and I think he was going to sit up when we came in but
I jumped onto the bed and wrapped my arms around his middle, settling
down beside him like a loyal dog, curled up watchfully. Putting Erin on
the bed for Mommy to hold, Josh sat on his other side so that we were
almost surrounding Daddy, protecting him.  
Daddy put a hand on my back, his way of hugging me closer right then,
and I could feel all his pain, hear all his agonized thoughts. It was
intense. It was awful. 
Erin didn't want to stay on the bed - she had been restless all day,
and so Mommy just held onto her left wrist, giving Erin enough freedom
to roam around, pressing her face against mine with a wide-eyed smile
and then climbing on top of Daddy before going after the crackers Josh
had brought in. My stomach felt all queasy and I knew I couldn't eat. 
  

Mommy talked. Daddy just listened, didn't contribute. Mommy told us
about them getting suspended because Daddy accidently shot someone,
about Duckie's offer to go visit her, that Mom and Dad and Duckie
needed to talk to each other about Samantha being Cate but that it was
hard because Duckie was in Australia.  
They didn't know that she was pregnant, I realised as Mommy talked.
They didn't realise that that was why she couldn't leave Australia,
because she was pregnant and if she was over here too long she wouldn't
be able to fly back til the baby was born. Why hadn't she told them? 

"So," Mommy was saying quietly, "We all need to talk about this, decide
whether or not we want to take Jacqueline's offer." 

Go visit Duckie in Australia? I wasn't sure. I missed Duckie, but I
felt kinda funny about seeing her. It had been so long since she'd been
around and I didn't know if we'd get along.  

"I want to," Joshie spoke up, quietly. I think he surprised all of us. 

"Me too." I backed Josh up immediately, not even really considering
why. I trusted his judgement. Kinda funny, I guess, to rely on a six
year old's judgement, but Josh just knew these things. He didn't make
mistakes much. 

"We'd have to take you out of school," Mommy pointed out. 

"Good." There was genuine relief in my response. I was sick of school
at the moment, even of drama, a little. I didn't have the energy for
it, now especially with everything that was going on at home.  

"Can we afford this?" Josh wondered aloud. He had hesitated only a
little before voicing the thought. 

"Jacqui offered to pay our airfares over." Mom spoke with a sort of
tightness. I knew she and Daddy felt kinda funny about taking charity
from Duckie. 

"Are we staying with her?" was Josh's next question. 

"I don't know. I guess we would be, if she had the room." 

I liked Duckie's house, or what we'd seen in webcam and what she'd told
us about. And we could see the Harbour Bridge and Uluru and the Great
Barrier Reef and all the beaches and wildlife and - 
"It might not be much of a vacation," Mommy said quietly. Her hair was
hanging down in front of her face and Daddy reached up his free arm to
tuck it behind her ear, his hand touching her cheek, the wedding band
on his finger glinting a little. She smiled, but it was a sad smile.
They both looked sad. "Because Daddy and Jacqui and I have very
important things to discuss. That might take a little time." 

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

- MULDER POV - 

Very important things to discuss. Very *important* things... Very
important *things*... My mind played uselessly around with her wording,
not wanting to go any deeper. I couldn't think of anything to say, just
lay there, weary, staring morosely ahead. Tired. Maybe I could close my
eyes and sleep til it was all over. 

I did close my eyes, and I think I actually dozed off. I found myself
thinking, for some unknown reason, about Melissa's funeral. It had been
relatively early on in our partnership and I hadn't known how to help
Scully through it as well as, perhaps, I would now. But from the time
she'd broken down in the hospital and clung to me there'd been a
surprising amount of dependance. She'd gone to stay with her mom but
called me, asking me to come to the funeral. I did, though I hung back,
let her be with her mom and brothers. I think she'd been glad I was
there, though, especially when I rescued her from the relatives and
friends at the wake and we sat in my car and she cried silently,
privately. I had seen it building within her, had seen the panic in her
eyes as she tried to fight it down. Nobody else had seen that. 
  

"Mulder?" 

I jolted a little - I *had* been dozing - and opened my eyes, looking
at her blearily. "Huh?" 

"You fell asleep." 

"Just dozing." I awkwardly drew myself upright and discovered that
Astrid and Josh had left. Erin was sitting on the bed on Scully's other
side, chewing on her own toes. I rolled my neck. "Did I miss anything?"

"Depends. When did you stop listening?" 

She sounded a little irritable and I answered carefully, almost
guiltily, "I didn't mean to fall asleep." 

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. "I know." 

Rolling over, she slid off the bed, picking up Erin. She stopped and
looked at me, as if to say something, but not having anything to say
she only turned and left. 

I put my head down, rolled over restlessly and closed my eyes again. I
had seen that same grief building in Scully's eyes right then. But why
now was it so much harder to do something about it? 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

She wriggled in my arms and I accordingly lowered her to the floor. She
took a few stumbling steps, still getting her balance, and then,
giggling, she ran over to the large stuffed dog Josh had won at a
carnival. Wrapping her arms around the creature - it was an inch or two
taller than her and much wider - she almost hugged it, tugging as if
she were trying to lift it up. But it was too big for her. Not quite
yet, sweetie, I thought affectionately. I slumped in the rocker as I
watched her exploring her toys for the hundredth time but still with
delight and wonderment, as if meeting old friends. She brought me a
block, and then another block, then another until I had a whole lapful,
then she reversed the procedure, returning them one by one to the
toybox, all the time grinning as if she had discovered the world's
greatest secret. I was glad that she finally seemed to be feeling
better. 
  
When she had finally finished returning the blocks to the toybox she
brought me a different present - a string of fat plastic beads that had
once been Astrid's. I lifted Erin up onto my lap, draping the beads
around her neck. "Aren't these pretty, huh?" She grinned at me, sucking
on them, and I kissed the top of her head, the silky little curls. My
own hair had been straight, even as a child, and I wondered where the
curls had come from. Jacqueline playing games, I thought, mildly amused
by the thought, then wistful. I missed Jacqueline.  

I'd been determined to reach an agreement about our trip in our family
meeting, but the kids had been uncertain and Mulder falling asleep
hadn't helped. It was still unresolved. And yet, I thought, I wanted to
go, damnit. We hadn't gone anywhere as a family, the kids had seen
nowhere. Compared to my own multicultural childhood theirs seemed so
narrow. And sure, Australia wasn't exactly the cultural capital of the
world, but it was *somewhere*. Somewhere else but here. And I missed
Jacqueline, missed her friendship. Hell, I even missed her infuriating
habit of interfering. 
I stood, lowering Erin into her crib and absent-mindedly kissing the
top of her head. Returning to our bedroom I found Mulder lying still,
asleep again. 

I sat on the edge of the bed and shook him, a little impatient.
"Mulder!" 

He rolled over to look at me. "What?" he asked quietly. He hadn't been
asleep, I realised, feeling irrationally guilty.  

"We're going to Australia." 

He stared at me, watchful, but didn't respond. 

"You don't have an opinion?" 

"No, I don't." I couldn't tell if he was serious or if it were a
deadpan wisecrack. He looked away, shaking his head, and I knew that he
was serious. "I just don't know, Scully," he said hopelessly. "I can't
begin to... I just don't know," he said again. "And I'm sorry, because
I want to help you..." 

"You want to help me?" I was surprised. I wanted to help *him*. 

He stretched up a hand to touch my face. "I can see how much it hurts
you." 

I caught his hand, kissing his knuckles, touched by his childlike
concern and unhappiness. I wanted to hug him, comfort him, but knew
that I wasn't really ready for it, not yet. I released his hand and
stood, bending to briefly kiss his forehead.  

"I'll go call Jacqueline." 
  

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

- MULDER POV - 

It was a long flight. I'd been on long flights before, but they paled
in comparison.  
At first, of course, it was exciting for the kids, amusing for us, if
chaotic. The kids had never been on a plane before and were full of
questions, copying every move Scully or I made, fought over the window
seat, over who got to hold Erin.  
We left Dulles at 8.15 am - our flight had been delayed three hours,
which meant that we'd been at the airport since 3am, and the kids had
been too excited and nervous to sleep. The first hour or so of the
flight they'd been near-hyperactive, then they'd started to calm down,
falling asleep only to be woken up half an hour later when we landed in
LA for a two hour stopover.  

I was feeling surprisingly good about the trip. The kids may not have
slept before our flight but I had, solidly, for almost twelve hours,
and felt enough energy flooding through my veins to deal with the chaos
and panic. Erin had cried during takeoff and landing and was still
crying quietly, hiccuping. I took her for a walk around the airport,
leaving Scully dozing and the kids trying to figure out how many hours
left of flying time. It was a relief to get away even from Scully, to
feel free of the almost cloying protection and comfort she offered me.
I wanted to shrug off all the pain, all the sympathy, and just enjoy
this. But I didn't know if Scully would let me do that. 

Ebony had been familiar with plane travel, Scully told me quietly as
the seatbelts light flipped off and Astrid leaned over the headrest to
check that she was allowed to undo her seatbelt. Jacqueline had told
Scully how Ebony had scanned her boarding pass casually, taken the
window seat, known how to put on her own seatbelt, not reacted to the
plane taking off, ignored the stewardesses as they demonstrated how to
use the life jackets.  
Josh and Astrid were the complete opposite. They watched curiously,
questioned everything, all the time trying to act very adult and
nonchalant. It didn't take them as long to settle down the second time
and they watched the inflight movie. They'd each brought plenty to
amuse themselves with - books, a tiny magnetic chessboard, the GameBoy
Margaret had given them, even schoolwork. Josh was rereading a play he
had written and passed it to me to proof. Scully was asleep beside me
so I passed Erin over to Astrid while I read. I could hear Astrid
singing softly to Erin in French, but I only picked out the occasional
word. French wasn't the only language Astrid was trying to teach Erin -
she had half a dozen Italian storybooks she read to her, as well as
starting to teach Erin one to ten in German and Japanese several months
ago. I wondered how much of it was actually getting through.  

"Non, non!" I heard her scold. Then, in English, "Don't, Erin! It hurts
when you pull my hair. You don't want to hurt me, do you, baby? That's
a good girl." 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

We didn't touch down in Sydney til one am. Then through customs and
picking up our luggage and picking up our rental car and a handful of
maps. Graham had given us rough directions but we took time to trace
the exact route. Josh was put in charge of the map - he loved maps. 
Mulder drove - he had gotten used to driving on the left side of the
road when he was in England, and "It's like riding a bike," he assured
me. We went through the city and the kids were excited by all the
bright lights - they wanted to stop or at least slow down to take it
all in. But we had a three hour drive ahead of us and wanted to get
there as soon as possible.  

We drove across the Harbour Bridge but there was surprisingly little to
see. Then we were on the motorway and after half an hour or so of
"Daddy, the speed is only *ninety* kilometers an hour. You're doing a
hundred and five" from Astrid and occasional updates of estimated
distance and time remaining by Josh, they fell into silence and then
sleep.  

We stopped for coffee but Mulder was still tired so I took over
driving. We were approaching the small town of Gerrideen and Josh was
on the phone to Jacqui for directions. 
We turned off the highway opposite the brightly-lit minimart as
directed. "We're the only house in the street with all its lights still
on," Josh quoted Jacqui as saying, and he pointed to the house right on
the corner. 
The road was tarred but unsealed, the sides becoming gravel and then
grass. There was a neat wire fence, waist-height with white posts, that
stretched around the property facing the road we were on and the
highway. In the car's headlights I could see roses planted all along
the fenceline. The window was down and I caught their faint odour.  
The house was only one-storey, whitewashed with a large white
watertank. I couldn't see the verandah that Jacqui had told us about.
Maybe it was around the other side. 
I parked the car off the road, between two tall, slim trees -
eucalypts, I guessed, and popped my seatbelt, reaching to shake Mulder
awake. Josh had already opened his car door and climbed out, curious. 
"We're here," I told Mulder quietly. He yawned, reaching to undo his
seatbelt. Did I look as tired as he did? I didn't doubt it. 

I didn't wake Astrid or Erin but climbed out of the car myself, staring
around. The house was brightly lit but beyond that was shadows. It
would look completely different by daylight, I knew. It was still
several hours til sunrise. 
  

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

- JACQUELINE POV - 

Grae and I had been waiting up but he'd fallen asleep just after two. I
shook him awake when I heard the car engine and voices out front, doors
opening and closing. "They're here." 

He rubbed his eyes. "God, what's the time?" 

"Quarter to five." 

He groaned. "You've been awake all night? I've got work tomorrow. And
you need your sleep, pumpkin." 

"I'm okay," I promised him. I had been too excited to sleep. I stood
and pulled him upright. "C'mon." I ran to go greet them, not waiting
for him. 

The engine wasn't running but the headlights and interior map lights
were on. Dana and Fox and Josh were standing around, stretching a
little - I couldn't blame them, it was a long drive - and talking
quietly. 

I don't think they saw me at first, not until I reached the fence and
was only a few feet away. "Hi."  
It felt like such a ridiculous, awkward way to greet them, but it had
been so long since I'd seen them, and I knew this was going to be a
surprise. 

Dana had her head in the car, reaching for something or talking to
Astrid or Erin. She withdrew to look at me and gaped. "Oh my God..."
she breathed. "You're - you're - Why didn't you tell us?" 

"I thought maybe you'd think it was a bad idea," I confessed, biting my
lip as I watched for her reaction. Consternation crossed her face
briefly. 

Fox, starting to unbuckle Erin, stopped and stared at me for a moment.
I caught his eye and he gave me a nod in acknowledgement. All I could
expect, I thought realistically. He looked at Dana a little strangely,
and I wondered what was going on there. More problems? 

Dana moved closer. "You must be... seven months? Eight?" 

"Seven months, two weeks, three days," I answered promptly, offering
her a nervous smile. It was hard to gauge her feelings. 

She smiled but I could see the concern in her eyes, even a little
wistfulness. "That's wonderful." 

I reached out and hugged her, aware of the awkwardness of the
situation, a little disappointed. I'd wanted to see her again for so
long and now... But they were tired, I reasoned with myself. I was
tired too. Give them some time for the jetlag to wear off and
everything would be back to normal. 

I released her and she stepped back. Josh sidled up, looking at me,
then hugged me only briefly before pulling back again.  
I drew a deep breath and tried to muster up some enthusiasm. "Come on
inside." 
  

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

- ASTRID POV - 

I only woke up when Daddy was carrying me inside, and I was annoyed
that they hadn't woken me up before they got there. Duckie was there
and it was still a surprise to see her pregnant, even though I'd
already figured it out. I gave her a big hug - she looked like she
needed it - and then Graham was there and I gave him a hug too because
he looked a little left out and he always got kinda angry when Duckie
left him out. I couldn't see Ebony anywhere but I guessed maybe she was
asleep in bed cos it was so late, almost morning.  

Most of the lights in the house and the car were on and everything just
seemed really bright, a whole big blur as we took all our luggage
inside and Duckie showed us our rooms and our bathroom - which was good
cos by then I really needed to go.  
We were all getting kinda hungry too and Duckie had some food, just
leftovers and stuff, and we sat eating it in the lounge room. I sat on
Daddy's lap on a funny high-backed leather armchair that spun around on
its base, listening as Mom and Dad told Duckie and Grae about the
flight and everything. It sounded kinda forced, more polite than really
friendly, and I hoped that everything would get more comfortable. I
couldn't imagine staying here for very long if we were all going to be
awkward. 
It was actually a cozy sort of room. The carpet was a funny dark shade
of orange which was disgusting and almost nice at the same time. The
ceiling was pretty, moulded with flowers and patterns. There was a big
new TV in what I thought was maybe the fireplace. A newspaper was
spread out on the carpet to read and the dark polished wood table had
pencils and paints and paper and colouring books spread out on it.
Ebony's stuff. 
Graham seemed to be the only one really comfortable in the room, in
jeans and a faded Adidas sweatshirt and thick woollen socks, but I
guess that made sense. I'd seen his mudcaked workboots sitting on the
back steps. He had big feet. Maybe even bigger than Daddy's.  

Erin was still asleep and Josh was starting to fall asleep. Even Mommy
and Daddy and Graham looked sleepy. 
Mommy had packed the collapsible playpen but it turned out that Duckie
had a crib for Erin to sleep in anyhow. It was brand new - bought for
Duckie's baby. That was a funny thought. 
Josh and Erin and I were sleeping in the closed in verandah, which was
just like a long, l-shaped bedroom. There were two beds as well as the
crib; one of them was a double and was right against the window. I
jumped up onto it and lifted the blinds. I could see the road outside
and as a big truck came along the blinds rattled. It was kinda noisy
and I wondered if it'd wake me up in the middle of the night but I
didn't really mind. I hadn't ever slept in a double-bed all by myself
before. 

Josh's bed was only a single but there was a window in the wall beside
it that went through to Mommy and Daddy's room - it had once been the
window looking outside, I figured. Josh and I crawled back and forth
through it from Josh's bed to Mom and Dad's til they told us to stop,
because the window slid up to open and might fall down on us. That, and
they wanted to get to sleep. 

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

- MULDER POV - 

With all the curtains closed our room was very dark. Scully stood only
a few feet away, her back to me as she changed into pajamas, and I
could only see glimpses of bare skin in the dark.  
"Long day," I observed, squirming childishly in the bed, trying to get
comfortable. After so many hours in planes and cars it was strange to
finally be able to lie down. 

She sighed. I heard a rustle of fabric. "Very long." 

The floorboards creaked as she moved over to our suitcases, then as she
came closer to the bed. It was the first privacy we'd had in days, I
realised, feeling the urge to cherish her.  

"Come here, beautiful," I murmured as she drew back the covers.  

I heard her breathing change its pace, become a little faster, than
slower. I reached out and slid my arm around her, wriggling closer
until I felt her curved back against me. I nuzzled against her, finding
her shoulder and resting my chin on it so I could kiss the side of her
neck. I heard her exhale shakily. 
"I love you," I whispered. 

She didn't answer, only drew a breath just as shaky as the one she'd
let go, and wrapped her hands over mine, running her thumb over the
wedding band on my left hand. 
"Goodnight, Mulder," she whispered. 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

Somebody was purring. It didn't really register for a while, and then
irritable curiosity overcame me and I opened my eyes. The sun hit me in
the face and I groaned, closed my eyes again and rolled over, burying
my face in the pillow. I was jetlagged, miserable, and still in need of
sleep. I felt lousy.  
I heard a plaintive meow and something rubbed against my side. I forced
myself to open my eyes again and looked at the little long-legged,
skinny kitten who looked at me inquisitively.  

It meowed again and I stared at it, my hair hanging down in front of my
eyes. My face felt both dry and swollen, my body was aching and crying
out for more sleep. "Go away," I muttered, closing my eyes and
snuggling down.  
  

It was two or three hours later when I woke again, I judged from the
sun coming through the curtains. The kitten was gone, I thought - then
I felt a warm weight over my toes and discovered it curled up on the
covers, over my feet, fast asleep.  

Mulder was still asleep beside me but I eased myself up, climbing out
of bed and checking the watch I'd discarded last night. It was almost
midday. 

I slipped my robe on and made my way out of the bedroom, stopping in
the bathroom next door to check my appearance. I didn't look as bad as
I felt; my face was a little swollen, I thought, and I was a little
pale, my hair was wild. I brushed it down, washed my face, and only
when I was feeling more presentable did I go in search of the others. 

In the back hallway there was an old-fashioned red settee covered with
a couple of brilliantly coloured blankets, a pink pillow and a
new-looking stuffed toy I identified, after a few moments, as a
platypus.  
Was that where Ebony had slept? I hadn't noticed her last night, though
this part of the hallway had been in darkness. Jacqui had assured us
that there was enough beds for everyone... I didn't want to feel we
were putting them out.  

Ebony and Graham were nowhere to be found, but Jacqui, Astrid and Erin
were in the kitchen. Jacqui was dressed, the kids still in pajamas.  

"Morning, Dana," Jacqui greeted, pouring orange juice in Erin's cup and
firmly fixing the no-spills  top on. Erin, in a new-looking high-chair,
grasped the cup and banged it on the table zealously. It fell from her
hands.  Astrid caught it, handing it back to her little sister with a
severe look. 

"*Erin*! Don't do that." 

Everything was under control, I thought. I might as well go back to
bed. Aloud I said, "Morning." 

I took a seat at the kitchen table. Gathered in the centre of the table
there were several boxes of cereal, a pile of breakfast bowls and
spoons, an opened carton of milk, and a jug of orange juice. 

"Hope you weren't expecting a continental breakfast." 

"It's fine," I told Jacqueline, noting that somebody had already fed
Erin some cereal and milk. Had it been Astrid or Jacqui, I wondered,
feeling jealous. I wished very suddenly that we hadn't come. How could
I have possibly thought this would make things easier? 
  

I passed on the cereal and had some toast and coffee. Astrid left the
table and took Erin with her, and although Jacqueline was talking
non-stop, telling me all the places she'd have to take us, it felt like
an almost unbearable silence. Maybe I was just really tired, really
jetlagged, but I didn't want to be around her. I felt stifled. 

I excused myself and went to have a shower. In our bedroom Mulder was
still in bed but awake, watching as I dressed. 
"What's wrong?" he asked. 

"Nothing." Easy answer. 

"Scully.." 

I glanced at him, then looked away again. Lately voicing our problems
had just made things worse. "Just jetlag." 

"Jetlag and pain and regret and -" 

I interrupted his darkly murmured musings. "Okay, so we both feel
lousy." He was hardly making things any easier. 

He patted the bed beside him and I moved closer mutely, sitting on the
edge. He drew himself upright and wrapped his arms around my shoulders,
hugging me against him, his chin digging into my upper back. 
"I need you close to me right now," he whispered quietly, a sort of
broken plea, lacking intensity. "I need you to keep me on track." 

"I'm trying," I answered, exhausted by the thought, feeling like Judas
with the knowledge in my heart that I wanted anything *but* to be close
to him right then. "You're not making it very easy for me." 

"I'm sorry." He kissed my neck, nudging my shirt down to kiss along my
shoulders. I twisted around to face him, letting him kiss my face but
not responding. That required energy and committment I wasn't ready to
give.  

He pulled back, looking at me with a disappointed sort of
understanding.  

"I'm sorry," I told him quietly. 

He shook his head, drawing away and leaving to go have a shower. I sat
on the unmade bed and listened to the shower run, my head in my hands.
I didn't know how I was going to face the world, where to even start
trying to work the whole mess out. I didn't know how much it was even
in my control.  
The shower had stopped and I went into the bathroom, not knocking but
just entering. Mulder was standing in jeans, barechested, shaving. He
gazed across at me, then turned back to the mirror, watching me in it
as he continued.  
There was a chair in the corner and I pushed aside Mulder's clothes to
sit on it, just watching him. 

"Is this payback for the other evening?" he asked after a few minutes,
pausing as he awaited my answer. 

For the other evening? For him watching me teach Astrid how to shave,
was that what he meant? I hadn't even thought of that. 
"Just remembering the first time I watched you," I said honestly.  

The first distinct memory, that was; when we had first brought Jacqui
and Astrid and Josh back to my apartment. Doubtless there had been
times before that, but I hadn't been able to relish them like I did
that memory, the closeness of the week surrounding it. So much love, it
had been overwhelming. 

Oh God... 

I flew at him, pressing my face against his chest, wrapping my arms
around him, feeling such immense grief and pain. The tears came in a
surge - real, loud tears that I hadn't been able to shed, needing to be
the strong one for Mulder's sake. There was no time to even try and
hold them back. 

"Oh, Scully..." Mulder seemed stunned - for several seconds he just
stood there. Then, dropping the razor in the basin, he slowly put his
arms around me, rubbing my back. "Oh, Scully..." he repeated, sounding
heartbroken. 

I kept sobbing. Irrational, I knew, but I couldn't stop myself. I
wasn't even sure why I was crying. For Samantha's death? For my pain,
for Mulder's pain, for the kids' pain? For the mess we'd made of the
last case, for what might have happened? For the confusion and
barriers? 

I hugged him tightly, sobbing, and Mulder just held me. Still, somehow,
it was a breakthrough, the tearing down of a barrier that had been
blocking our progress, any chance we had of healing. 

"I still love you," I whispered, because it had to be said, because I'd
put doubt in his mind. "I still love you so, so much..." 

"I know, precious," he promised.  
  

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

- JACQUELINE POV - 

When Dana and Fox finally showed they were together, arms around each
other as if needing support, frail. They kept whispering to each other,
shooting each other looks filled with private meaning. 
I took them and the kids for a quick tour of the place - it looked
different in the daylight, I knew; they looked at everything as if for
the first time.  
Josh and Astrid were keen to look around, kept wanting to touch things,
feed the chooks, pat the cow. Erin seemed fascinated by the animals.
She'd spent hours earlier in the morning chasing the kittens over the
house, grabbing tufts of fur. Astrid had been continually trying to
show her how to pat them - "*Gently*, princess. You've gotta be nice to
the kitty." 
Ebony followed close to me, lurking around me almost possessively,
which surprised me. She was protecting her play areas, too - she'd run
ahead and be standing in front of her trees or the vegie garden or the
chook pen before we reached there as if warding us off, warning us to
keep away. She was more territorial than Milo, and certainly not as
friendly. I didn't know what to do about that. She even seemed to be
wary even of Josh, ignoring him as she did everybody but Grae and I. 

We all went down to the bottom paddock and Fox and Dana climbed to the
roof of the cowshed, sitting there side by side and watching as I
showed Astrid and Josh the cow. Astrid wouldn't let Erin touch the cow
- apparently Erin had a habit of licking her hands after everything she
touched. A born investigator. 
I tried to inconspicuously keep an eye on Fox and Dana as they sat up
there by themselves. They had seemed miserable and uptight last night
and now they looked relaxed, at least, if not entirely happy. They
looked comfortable enough with each other, too, her head against his
shoulder, his arm around her, her hand on his leg. Maybe things
wouldn't be so awkward with all of us, after all. 
  

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

- MULDER POV - 

"They were hers first." Scully broke the silence, staring down morosely
at the kids with Jacqui. Ebony had climbed on a rough wooden fence and
also sat there staring at them. Jacqui kept glancing at her, then at
us, all the time trying to answer the kids' questions. "She was their
mother, before I was." 

"They're ours, now," I argued gently. "They always will be." 

She sighed. "There's still a part of me who's jealous every time I see
her with them." 

"Don't you think she feels the same way?" I pointed out. 

Another sigh. She burrowed more against me. "Yeah, I guess so." 

There was quite a breeze and I felt a little chilly. Scully shivered
and I held her tighter. I think at that moment that was what we needed
most - to be held and to hold. Security was of the essence. 

After a while we went back up to the house for some lunch. The kids
played some basketball, though the hoop was too high up for both of
them and I ended up having to help them, holding them up to slam dunk.
Jacqueline wasn't as overbearing a hostess as most - and I think that
the fact that Graham had gone to work and was out of the picture for a
couple of days made things easier for all of us. 
Jacqueline showed us where everything in the kitchen was, told us to
feel free to grab whatever, whenever we were hungry. The minimarket was
just across the road if we needed anything extra. 
"My house is your house!" she announced, adding with an odd smile, "Til
Grae comes back, anyhow." 

Jacqueline disappeared for several hours in the afternoon - 'catnap',
she announced cryptically - which gave us run of the place. The kids
had dozens of things they wanted to do, games they wanted to play.
Mindful of both Jacqui and Erin sleeping I opted for one of the quieter
games ; we played baseball on the back lawn with a cricket bat. Ebony
sat by herself on the verandah, and no cajoling by Scully or Josh would
induce her to play. 

Jacqui woke up and early evening we all headed down to the river. It
was only a ten minute walk and Jacqui had a surprising amount of energy
- thanks to the catnap, I guessed.  
The river was maybe twenty feet wide, shallow at the edges and
gradually deepening. The grassy slope led onto several feet of rocky
'beach', stones and pebbles which the kids started skimming. It wasn't,
I thought, a noteworthy spot, but with the sun starting to set and the
green filmy branches overhanging, it was surprisingly attractive. And
not another human being in sight. 

Jacqueline and Scully and I sat, but conversation was at a bare minimum
and I thought maybe they wanted me out of the way. I went to see what
the kids were up to, taking Erin with me.  
They were at the edge of the water, Josh and Astrid crouching together
at one point searching for larger stones, Ebony a few yards away on an
overhanging grassed area, staring down into the water. Was she watching
for fish, I wondered. Jacqueline had said that Graham liked to fish
here. 
I crouched beside Astrid, letting Erin to the ground but keeping a grip
on her overalls to stop her straying too far. "What are you doing?" 

"Making stepping stones," Astrid answered promptly. "So we can walk
right out into the middle, maybe even go all the way across." 

"I don't think you'll have time for that," I told her gently. "Not
today, anyway. It's almost dark." 

"Can we come back tomorrow?" 

"We'll see, huh?" A famous parenthood response. 
  

We stayed for another twenty minutes or so, then it was getting cold
and dark so we headed back. The old mutt came galloping toward us,
meeting us half-way down the street. Jacqui patted him on the head and
Ebony kneeled, letting him lick her face. It had been lying half-asleep
in its kennel all day and we'd all kept clear, aware of the
possessiveness Ebony had of the creature. It had seemed to barely move,
not even wag its tale except when Ebony patted it. Now it was alive
with energy. 

"He wants his dinner," Jacqueline explained. "That's Ebony's job." 

Back at the house we watched as Ebony dished out kitten formula and dry
food and fishy-smelling tinned casserole. The two kittens kept rubbing
against her legs contentedly, purring. Ebony was, I thought, singing
softly, not any recognisable words but just a humming.  
Balancing three bowls, she made her way out of the kitchen onto the
verandah just inside the back door. The two cats and the dog followed
her. Pied Piper. 

"She sings, every night," Jacqueline mused. "Only then, to the kittens
and Milo." 

What had happened to that little girl? She was one of Samantha's
children, I thought suddenly. In a way she was more symbolic of
Samantha than Astrid was. Was there any way I could help Ebony? I felt
a sudden desperate need to do so, to save her from what I had been able
to save my sister from, her mother. 

Ebony, who I had in the past been able to brush from my mind, suddenly
became an issue. If I could save her, then in some way I was atoning
for what had happened to Sam. In some way I could be absolved of guilt,
freed of my burden. I could leave the demons behind for once and for
good. I had to try. There was always a chance. 

These is always hope for a perfect world. 

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

- SCULLY POV - 

I hadn't seen the kids so energetic in months. They were giggling,
gleeful, chasing each other around the room, telling jokes, speaking to
each other in rhyme, behaving childishly, dancing Erin around the room.
It was such a change from their behaviour of late.  
When had they started acting so grown up? It had been so gradual, a few
less giggles, a few less beaming smiles. Like us, they had been slowly
burning out. But, unlike us, already they seemed re-energised,
radiating strength and enthusiasm.   

Mulder was sitting at the table with Ebony, talking to her quietly as
she coloured, and I left him there to supervise the kids as Jacqueline
and I went for a walk outside.  

It was chilly and I hugged my coat close. Jacqueline had a blanket
draped around her shoulders and it hung around her like a poncho as she
sat, Indian-style, on a white wrought iron garden bench. I sat beside
her. There had been some reason she wanted to talk to me alone. "So,
what's going on?" 

She gazed around her, considering. "What do you think of the place?" 

"The house, the city of the country?" 

She smiled. "The house, specifically." 

I stared around me. The house glowed warmly, the stars were bright, the
place smelt earthy. "I can understand why you like it here," I said
slowly. For Jacqueline who had never had a real home, never had family,
this was her chance. 

"It's the childhood I never had," she agreed, wistful. "The childhood
you'll remember forever. This is my chance to be innocent again.
Everything is simple." 

"What about Graham?" 

"I never told you how we first met, did I?" 

I shook my head. He'd been a large part of her life by the time we
first heard of him, since then a constant presence. I watched curiously
as she drew the blanket back to cup her hands over her stomach.  
"I went to the dentists. Some place somebody or other had recommended
me to. I took a medical research journal along - I don't remember what
it was, just some small obscure thing I picked up at work - and I was
reading up about electronic stimulation of dead brain tissue in order
to harvest cells for use in bio-tech AI trials. Anyway, I left it out
in the waiting room when I went into my appointment, and then when I
came out again this guy I'd never seen before was sitting there,
holding it. I hadn't finished reading the article and I wanted my
magazine back, so I asked him for it, and as he handed it over he
remarked that it was so obscure, he hadn't thought anybody would read
it. I asked him if he had, and he said yes - he'd written it. He then
introduced himself as Professor Graham Bell." 

"And you were properly smitten?" I teased, though I still felt distant.
It was strange to only now be hearing this story. 

"I was excited," she admitted. "It was a fascinating article. He wrote
brilliantly. I told him of my interest in the field and he asked me out
to lunch, told me only a tenth of what he knew about that specifically
had gone into the article and offered to fill me in on the rest. Pickup
line with a difference, huh?" 

I smiled, still not sure if I were entirely comfortable with
Jacqueline. She'd changed, matured a little, but whether that was a
good thing or not I wasn't certain. 
"So you went to lunch with him?" 

She shook her head, smiling wryly. "Nope. I'd just had fillings - I
wasn't allowed to eat for another forty minutes. And he had just been
called for his appointment. So he suggested dinner, which sounded far
more date-like. That freaked me out a bit, actually. But I remembered
you telling me I had to get a life -" 

"I didn't say that!" I protested, even though I'd heard the humour in
her voice.  

"- And so I said sure, as long as we didn't go for steak. My teeth were
hurting." 

"So you had dinner with him." 

"Dinner, then dinner the next night, then he invited me to drop into
his lab. Then I invited him over to my lab. It was a 'I'll show you
mine if you'll show me yours' sort of arrangement." She grinned.  

"Sounds pretty full on," I observed.  

"Compared to you and Fox, you mean?" She gave me a knowing smile. "But
it's not like we were sleeping together from the beginning. Grae wanted
to, I think, but I held off til I was ready." 

"Were you really? You were only, what, eighteen?" 

"Nineteen. But I was ready," she said defensively. I wondered why it
was such a touchy issue. The defensiveness worried me.  

"How old are you now?" I asked suddenly. 

"Nearly twenty-one. By most people's standards I've barely lived. But
hey, what do most people know?"  

There was definite bitterness in her voice. She wasn't a happy camper. 

"What's wrong, Jacqui?" I asked gently. "Why are you so unhappy?" 

"I'm not." Her answer came too quickly. She jolted suddenly, her hands
going to her stomach. The blanket slipped back. "Ooh, the baby kicked."

She grabbed my hand and put it to her stomach. "Can you feel her?" 

I felt a slight flutter under my palm. *Her*? "It's a girl?" 

"I don't know yet. We're keeping it a surprise. But I think it's a
her." 

I retracted my hand, then reached to draw the blanket back up over her
shoulders. I felt her awkwardness at the silence, the shared knowledge
that the baby's kicking had been only a brief reprieve. "Whatever's
wrong, Jacqui, now's the time to tell me, while we're face to face." 

She shook her head, turning away. "It's nothing that I can *voice*...
it's just... everything." She turned back and I could see tears in her
eyes. "I missed you guys and I thought maybe with you over here
everything would be okay again, but you've changed, or I've changed,
and now there's this *barrier* that's -" 

I hushed her, drawing her against me in a hug as she began to cry. I
was getting far too much practice at this lately, I thought morosely. I
was always giving or getting hugs, always dealing with another's tears
or trying to ward off my own. Even now, in trying to escape it all... 

I patted her back, drawing away. "Let's go inside, huh? It's cold." 

She nodded. "You go in. I need a minute." 

I hesitated for a moment, watching as she swiped at her eyes, but then
I obeyed, slowly making my way back up to the house. I could hear
Astrid shrieking - Mulder was tickling her, maybe. I felt as if my life
could be symbolised in that one moment, the darkness and tears on one
side, laughter and light on the other. And me simply between,
richocheting back and forth, my life an inescapable see-saw. 

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

- MULDER POV - 

"Daddy, if there was another war, would you expect me to go fight?" 

I stared at Josh's earnest, solemn frown. His questions always panicked
me. Never simply 'Why is the sky blue?' or even the traditional 'How
are babies made?' but deeply intelligent, painfully challenging
questions I was often loathe to answer less I give an incorrect
response. The last question, one which had left me pondering, had been
awkward: "Have you ever felt God's grace?" 
That had been a difficult one. This one was near-impossible to answer
in a completely different way. 

"I guess it would depend, kiddo," I answered evasively. 

"On what?" 

"Whether you were willing to go fight. The size of the war, who was
being fought, the danger." 

"If there was another war now, would you fight in it?" 

I glanced past Josh to where Astrid sat on the floor with Erin, trying
to teach her with flashcards. Absolutely not. "I don't know." 

"Your work... is like a war, isn't it?" 

"In a way. It's a different sort of war. Not so much marching." 

"What if I wanted to fight in your war?" he persisted.  

"Believe me," I said with feeling. "You don't want to get involved in
my war, kiddo." 

He frowned. "What if I don't have a choice?" 

"Fate?" 

He shrugged. "I'm not sure." 

What went on his mind? How did a six year old think so deeply? There
was something more at work, I felt, but I didn't know what. I don't
think I understood it any more than Josh did. 

"You written any poetry lately?" I asked suddenly. It seemed to be the
only real window into his mind. 

He hesitated, then shook his head. In other words: yes, but I won't let
you read it. 

I nodded, understanding. "Okay." 
  

Scully came through the back door, dropping off her coat and shivering.
"It's freezing out there." 

I stood, going through the kitchen to meet her. "Where's Jacqueline?" 

"She just needed a second." 

My eyes strayed passed her and I picked up a silver photoframe from the
mantle over the unused kitchen fireplace. It had been taken at
Jacqueline's wedding - Jacqui and Graham, Scully and I, Astrid, Josh
and Ebony. I noticed curiously that Graham and I stood the same way,
our arms curled around our respective wives' from behind, chin on their
left shoulders. What did that mean? Or was I being ridiculous, reading
into it? 

"You scrubbed up well," Scully remarked playfully, referring to the
tux. She tugged at the sweater I was wearing, hugging me from behind,
rubbing my arms. God, I loved her, I thought suddenly. My hands closed
over hers; quite tightly, I realised, feeling her hands tense, clawlike
for a moment. Had she somehow sensed my overwhelming, almost
suffocating need for her, my desperate ownership of her? 
"Mulder..." she whispered, sounding almost unhappy. Why was she
unhappy?  

I turned to face her and found her frowning. I kissed her, but the
frown remained. "Scully?" I wondered. 

She patted my upper arm, brow still furrowed, face shadowed. "We should
start going through Jacqueline's paperwork." 

I felt my spirit slump. I didn't want to think about Samantha, not now,
maybe not ever. Why bother? What gain was there, now? 
"You start without me." 

"Mulder -" 

"Just -" I cut myself off, frightened by the harsh anger in my own
voice. I exhaled, trying to be gentle. "Start without me." 

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

- JACQUELINE POV - 

Dana and I sat at the back table, sorting through all the papers I'd
collected and notes I'd made. We worked silently, only speaking to
point something out or verify a fact. I felt awkward with the silence.
I wanted to know what she was thinking but it wasn't  easy to tell. In
fact, since they'd been over here I'd been able to catch very little of
their real thoughts. Once I'd been able to read them like a book - even
at the very beginning, first meeting them. What had changed that? 

We could hear Fox in the kitchen and Dana excused herself. Although she
lowered her tone to speak to him, I still caught most of their
conversation. 
"You need to be here for this, Mulder. You need to deal with it,
somehow." 

"Scully, if it's over, it's over. No amount of paper pushing is going
to change that." 

"Is this so that you don't have to completely give up hope? Is that the
plan here, Mulder? If you don't see the proof you don't have to believe
it?" 

"I *have* seen the proof. I held those PCR's in my hand. That's all the
proof I need. It's over." 

"Not yet. Just come sit with us, at least. For me." 

I felt only a little guilty for listening in - after all, guilt was all
relative, and I felt it so enormously over what I'd done to him and
Dana and the kids that eavesdropping seemed no sin at all.
Nevertheless, the pain and frustration in his voice worried me. I had
no trouble reading it in his face, either, as he followed Dana in and
sat beside her, hands folded on the table in front, eyes on the papers.

"All right, show me what you've got." That was supposed to come out
casual and offhand, I thought, but it didn't. 

Dana and I had already sorted through the most important documents and
she lay them in front of him, going through them page by page like a
lawyer explaining legal terms to a client. I half expected her to start
pointing to the pages and say 'sign here'. 

Fox listened quietly, absorbing it all, flickers of emotion frequently
crossing his face. I knew what he was thinking now, as clearly as if
he'd spoken the words aloud. Twenty years she was so close and he never
found her. Twenty years of searching the skies, years of throwing
himself and Dana into perilous situation after perilous situation, and
the whole time she'd been only a two hour plane ride away.  

He stopped reading, pushed the papers away from him, and I spoke up,
trying in some way to help, "The Samantha you grew up with, that little
girl, she was gone, Fox. When they returned her she was Cate; she was
different. She wasn't the little girl you knew." 

He looked up at me, and the anger in his eyes was unwavering. "She was
still my sister." 

"No, she wasn't," I said gently. 

He kicked back his chair and began to pace, hand to his head. "You
don't *know* that! You never knew her as a kid. I'm the only one who
would have known, and you took away any chance I ever had of seeing her
again!" 
His anger was different to Grae's, more deeply intense, though equally
explosive. And while I could usually refrain from letting Grae's anger
provoke me, there was something about Fox's - that it felt like an
unfair accusation against me, a personal insult on an entirely
different level - that made me yell back. 

"If I hadn't shot my parents, you would never have known we existed!
You would have never gotten Astrid or Josh or even Erin! Think about
that for a second!" 

That shut him up. He stared at me, loathing me, hating me not just for
my part in Cate's death but for everything he had suffered, all his
pain about Samantha. 

"He doesn't really hold you responsible," Dana said softly, watching as
Fox stormed out. "He's just looking for somebody to blame, just to get
him through the pain. He knows it's not really your fault." 

That was meant to be reassurance, but watching her follow him out I
didn't feel remotely reassured. I felt tired and nauseous and terrible.
I wished Grae was here. Oh, the irony. 

"Duckie?" Josh stood in the doorway in pajamas, looking troubled. Had
he heard all that? Undoubtedly. You heard everything in this house. 

"C'mere, Joshie. Big sis needs a hug." 

He came forward, climbing cautiously up onto my lap. How could a six
year old still be so tiny? He weighed next-to-nothing.  

"Daddy does things he doesn't mean when he's upset," he said quietly,
sliding his arms around me to rest his head against my stomach. I
remembered seeing he and Astrid doing the same to Dana when she was
pregnant. "Try not to let them hurt you. He doesn't really hate you." 

"I think he does," I disagreed with certainty.  

"He doesn't," Josh insisted. "He's just confused. You're more like
Samantha to him than Cate ever was." 

"Is that why he resents me?" I wondered aloud. I hadn't even considered
that before. Was *that* why he was always picking fights with me, often
childish fights?  

"He's just confused," Josh repeated. "Give him some time." 
  

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

- ASTRID POV - 

"No, you *don't* understand, Scully!! You haven't -" 

"I *have*. I've lost a sister too, you know. I know exactly how you
feel."  

"This is different. This has been my life!" 

"Damnit Mulder! This has been your life because you chose that. I could
have chosen to spend my life hunting down Missy's killers-" 

"This is *different*. Missing is different to dead. With missing
there's hope. I never gave up that hope that I'd find her, Scully. You
know that!" 

"I know that, Mulder." Mommy's voice was all tight and tired, as if she
was trying not to get mad at Daddy or cry. "But look around at what
you've got." 

They didn't realise that the window between their bedroom and ours was
open. It wasn't open much, and we probably would have been able to hear
anyway, but I still wished the window was closed or that we were
elsewhere. 

"Joshie?" I whispered. 

He was sitting at the old desk, writing something, scribbling madly. 

"Joshie!" I whispered again. "What are you writing about?" 

I moved closer to the desk, trying to see, but he closed the book. 

"I hate it when they fight," he answered quietly, staring down at the
cover of the diary. 

"Me too," I agreed with feeling. I knew how deeply Josh felt that but
didn't understand how he could be so contained about it. Sure, Joshie's
always been good at keeping feelings in, but *still*... "I hate *them*
when they fight," I added, angry. I loved them so much but hated them
too because it was so unfair, we were just being forgotten and pushed
aside. They just weren't even thinking about us. 

"You don't," Joshie corrected me knowingly. 

"Yes I do," I retorted.  

He looked up at me for the first time. "Mommy's coming." 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

Astrid was pretending to be asleep. I ignored her for the moment,
sitting on the edge of her bed so that I could talk to Josh. He sat at
the desk, blowing idly on a dusty old lamp. 
"It's late, sweetie," I said gently. "Time for bed." 

He drew the desklamp closer, writing his initials in the dust.  

"Josh?" I pressed. 

"Not yet." There was a rare huskiness in his voice. He was holding back
tears, upset and angry, too, I thought.  

I put my hand on his shoulder. "Sweetie -" 

He was trembling a little - I could feel that - and I could see the
tears swimming in his eyes. But he shook his head. "I just need to
finish something." 

My eyes went to the notebook on the desk, close to him. It was closed,
capped pen lying beside it. "Writing?" 

Instinctively he reached to hug the notebook against him, protective of
it. 

"Ten more minutes," I allowed. He nodded, and though I stood I found
myself unable to move. I couldn't leave him just sitting there,
couldn't leave the situation so unresolved, the pain held in, the truth
unspoken. 
"I know all this is tough on you and Astrid as well as Daddy and I.
We're trying, Josh, we're really trying, but -" 

"We hate it when you fight." 

"I can understand that. And I'm sorry. We don't mean to. It's just...
it's hard being an adult, Josh. There's so many things to juggle." I
gazed at him. His chin was quivering, his fists clenched. "I know
that's not an excuse." 

A plump tear slipped down his cheek and landed on the desk. He wiped it
away with his fist. 

"I'm so sorry, sweetie..." I dropped to my knees beside him, reaching
up to touch his back. "We don't want you to get hurt in all of this.
You know how much we care about you." Still no response. "Joshie? Come
here." 

I tugged gently at his arm and he finally turned to look at me. Not
resentful as Astrid would have been, just unhappy, grave, sorrowful. He
slid off the chair and I drew him against me, feeling rather than
hearing the sobs. How many people had I comforted today? I wondered
wearily.  

I slipped my hands under him to pick him up, sitting on the edge of
Astrid's bed with him in my lap. He seemed heavier than usual, a limp
weight.  
I sighed heavily, feeling like lead myself, drained of energy or
emotion. I couldn't go on like this. I wouldn't last unless it got
better, and fast. But what if it didn't get any better? 

I felt arms close around my waist from behind, somebody press against
my back, and for a brief second I thought maybe it was Mulder. But,
while it was that same desperate, too-tight clawing grip, the hands
were smaller. Astrid, clinging to me, began to cry loudly. 
I hugged her as best I could, feeling stretched to deal with the two of
them, unable to come up with anything to stop the flood of tears. I'm
drowning, I thought helplessly. Drowning in a sea of tears.
Hopelessness washed over me and I hung my head, unable to hold it up
any longer. There was nothing else to do. The three of us clung
together, tired, angry and alone. When my own tears came I was too
exhausted to notice. 
  

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

- MULDER POV - 

The next few days were interminable. Mood swings abounded, Josh was
withdrawn, Astrid bounced back and forth between sunny smiles and
tantrums over the smallest things, Jacqueline hovered a lot, as if
waiting for resolution and absolution. We all tried to relate to Ebony
but she was a selfish child, teritorial, like a deceptively passive
bulldog guarding its possessions. I talked to her when I could, trying
to make some sort of breakthrough, but it was useless. With her
coldness and Astrid's angry assaults and Josh's secretive distance and
Jacqueline's hurt anger I wanted to go to Scully, but she was
short-tempered - PMS on top of everything else - and kept her distance
as well.  
Surprisingly, it was Graham who forced us to all realign our
perspectives. We'd been acting like children fighting, not trying to
disguise our emotions, and with his return we had to start behaving
like civil adults again. 
He arrived early afternoon on the Friday, our fourth night there.
Jacqueline greeted him with a long hug but was quick to put on a smile
when he asked how she was. Just after five Graham headed down to a
corner of the yard with the kids and Erin to get the barbeque started.
Scully had taken some Advil and went to lie down. Jacqueline and I were
left alone together on the porch. 

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I felt her occasional quick
glances but could think of nothing to say or do in response to them. 

Finally, Jacqueline broke the silence. "Yell at me." 

"What?" 

"Just yell at me. Get angry. But please don't keep quiet, Fox." 

"I don't want to yell at you," I argued gently. Searching inside, I
couldn't find any anger at her. Anger was an intense emotion, and I
lacked the energy for it. I felt only a dull unhappiness. 

Jacqueline considered it, eyeing me curiously. "What *do* you want?" 

I closed my eyes briefly, hanging my head. I want *Scully*, I thought
suddenly. I want to have my arms around her, to have her kiss me, have
her tell me what I mean to her, be able to tell her the same. 

Jacqui nudged me. "Go talk to her." 
  

Our bedroom window was open a little, the curtains flapping in the
breeze, the fresh air filtering in, as well as a little of the
remaining daylight. Despite that and the light coming through from the
kids' room it was still dark and I could barely see Scully as she lay
curled up on the covers.  

"You awake?" 

She stirred, rolling over to look at me sleepily. "Yeah." She grimaced,
pressing the heel of one hand against her side, groaning softly. 

I sat down on the bed beside her, touching her arm lightly. "I thought
you took some Advil." 

"I did." She groaned again, balling herself up, hugging herself. I
could see the pain on her face. 

"You wanna take some more?" 

She shook her head. "I already took too many. See if Jacqueline's got
anything stronger for me, huh?"  

"Sure." I caressed her hair briefly, glad that she was letting me, that
she was needing me.  

Jacqueline was in the kitchen making a salad. She grimaced
sympathetically but said no, she didn't have anything. "Run across the
road to the chemists," she suggested. "They might still be open.
Otherwise see what you can find in the supermarket. And while you're
over there, can you get another loaf of bread and some tomatoes?" 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

I was almost asleep when Mulder returned, downing the capsules he gave
me without question. The effect was gradual and as the pain lessened I
felt more energetic, revived also by Mulder's care. In ten minutes I
was up and helping Jacqueline in the kitchen. I was surprised by her
competence - with her upbringing it was hardly a place I'd imagined her
confident in.  

Jacqueline produced a packet of fluffy pink and white marshmallows.
"For the kids." She grinned, pulling the packet open and offering me
one before taking one herself. 

"So, Dana, what are we going to do?" She dropped down onto a chair at
the table opposite me, grabbing another marshmallow. 

"About what?" 

"About... God, I don't know. About everything. How resolved do you
think this Samantha thing is?" 

I shrugged. "I don't know," I said honestly. "We've gone over
everything, we've confirmed your facts... There's really not much more
we can do." 

"It seems like there should be more," she mused, tearing a third
marshmallow apart with her fingers. "After so many years and so much
pain for you and Fox, this is such a sudden ending. It's like skipping
to the end of the book when you still have fifty pages to go." 

How was she able to analyse us like that? And yet, I didn't mind as I
usually would. It was comforting to have such a concise explanation.
Jacqui was still minding our business; not everything had changed, and
I was grateful for it. 
  

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

- MULDER POV - 

"A beer?" 

I nodded. "Sure." 

Graham tossed me the barbeque tongs. "The sausages need turning." 

He headed up to the house. I tended to the barbeque with an odd sort of
accomplished satisfaction, letting Ebony add a pile of small sticks
she'd gathered to the fire, watching the kids as they played with a
soccerball on the grass. Erin was hugging it, running with it, trying
to sit on it. Josh and Astrid were giggling, encouraging her, teasing
her, teasing each other, wrestling in a patch of clover.  
Graham returned, as he neared tossing me a colourful packet. "There's
only a few marshmallows left for the kids. Jacqui ate the rest of
them." 

"Pregnant women eat a lot." I shrugged, remembering Scully's pregnancy.
It seemed an eternity ago. "They need more food, more love, more
attention, more gifts... That's how they end up so big." 

"Yeah, I guess. Jacqui's demanding enough as it is." He shook himself,
tossing a can of beer in my direction. 

I caught it, reading the label with amusement. "Fosters." 

He grinned. Was that the first genuine smile I'd seen from him, free of
that weary tolerance? "I'm actually more of a Vic Bitter bloke myself."
He laughed. "I can't believe I just said bloke." 

I chuckled, taking a cautious sip. Different, but bearable.  

"Daddy! Give me a sip!" Astrid pleaded, tugging at my arm. I passed her
the can and she spluttered at the taste, pulling a face. "That's
disgusting." 

She pounced on the packet of marshmallows and the next ten minutes was
spent jostling in front of the fire with marshmallows on long sticks. I
noted that Graham confiscated the packet, allowing Ebony run of the
barbeque to toast the remaining three marshmallows. He talked her
through the process, gently, and she followed his instructions
obediently. He was doing what I felt I should, I realised. He was
saving Ebony. 

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

- SCULLY POV - 

The cramps were back - just a dull pain, my back aching. Maybe they
hadn't gone away, just been mild enough that I didn't notice them until
I was lying, relaxed, in Mulder's arms. 
An enormous rug had been spread on the grass and we had had a picnic
dinner. The daylight had long vanished from the sky but the slowly
burning-out barbeque and a strategically positioned floodlight several
yards away gave us a twilight effect. The kids had been excited,
chasing each other around during the meal, knocking things over,
spilling soda and dripping ketchup and getting grass clippings
everywhere. Now they had calmed down and were toasting potato chips in
the fire. Ebony was asleep on Graham's lap, Jacqueline almost asleep
against him, and Erin was asleep beside me. 
Mulder's hands were at my sides, pressing against my pelvis, gently
kneading. It brought a tingling relief from the ache and I wallowed
contentedly in his arms. Maybe it was whatever Mulder had given me
earlier, or even just the fact that it was late and I was tired, but I
felt fuzzily safe, more comfortable being with him than I had in a
while.  
"You're a very good hot water bottle," I murmured appreciatively.  

"I've found my calling." He chuckled, sniffing my hair. "You're all
smokey." He sniffed my sweater, making me giggle, and he continued,
snuffling against me, blowing warm breath on the bare skin of my neck. 

I looked at my watch - it was only past nine but I was tired. We were
all half-asleep.  

"Time to call it a night, I think," I announced quietly. Mulder seemed
reluctant to release me and I brought his hand to my lips, kissing his
fingertips gently before crawling across the rug and starting to
collect all the plates and cutlery of the evening. Graham shifted Ebony
off his lap, against Jacqueline, who put an awkward but protective arm
around the girl. I heard Graham talking to Josh and Astrid, telling
them that he was going to put the fire out, but my eyes were on Ebony,
the implant scar at the base of her neck. 

I looked to Jacqui, questioning. She gave me a tight, twisted smile.
"She set the metal detector off at the airport." She glanced down at
the sleeping child and added more quietly, "We couldn't risk taking it
out. You said that taking yours out caused your cancer... We can't do
that to Ebony. Things are hard enough as it is." 

I gazed at the sleeping child. When I looked at her I no longer saw
Astrid. I barely saw the resemblance any more. I saw a child who was
deeply hurt, so deep that maybe it was unhealable, inaccessible like my
cancer had been. 

I nodded, glancing across to where Astrid and Josh were playing, trying
to carry each other. "I would have done the same thing." 
  

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

- MULDER POV - 

I hadn't meant to wake Scully and felt guilty about the sleepy
puzzlement that crossed her face as she stared at me where I stood,
alarm crossing her face fleetingly. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing," I reassured, moving back over to the bed and patting her
through the bedcovers.  

She wasn't fooled, of course. She frowned. "Tell me." 

I sat down, my hand still on her blanketed form. She sat up, sliding
her hand over mine. It had been a while since we'd held hands, I
thought. It was the simple things that indicated our comfortability
with each other. 

"I was just thinking about my Dad, actually," I confessed. She raised
an eyebrow, querying and I elaborated, "About his choice that Samantha
be taken." I shook my head. "How can a father make such a choice? It's
impossible." 

"You're thinking of us." 

I nodded. "I was watching the kids tonight and trying to figure it out,
but it was just so impossible. They're all so wonderful, so important
in their own way. Astrid's just this *light* that keeps on shining...
Josh is so wise, his mind's just so vast - Astrid's too. And Erin...
God, I could never let her go. She's *us* Scully, she's everything we
love about each other." I took a deep breath, shaken by the
impossibility of the thought, of what my father had done. "How could we
possibly pick a child to sacrifice?" 

She was looking down at the covers, a small frown creasing her
forehead. "Let's just pray it'll never come to that," she said softly.
Was she thinking of Melissa? I wondered. 

She slid an arm around from behind my back and I clasped her hands
against my chest. Feel my heart beat, Scully. Read its every murmur. 

"Who would you pick?" I asked suddenly, hating myself for asking the
question but I needed to know badly. 

She was silent, her eyes slowly raised to meet mine, an anguished
stillness in them. Slowly, she shook her head. 

"No," I agreed heavily. "I wouldn't be able to make a choice, either." 

I pulled away, needing to pace, but she didn't let me go. "Don't run
away from me." 

"I'm sorry." And I was. Not just for that, but for everything. I always
would be. 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

"The Blue Mountains - you've got to see them. It's beautiful up there.
And Canberra's only a short flight from here - Parliament House and the
War Memorial and everything. Just as long as you don't drive once
you're there - the roads are confusing. All the real icons are in
Sydney, though - the bridge, the opera house, Centerpoint tower,
Taronga Zoo - Josh'll love that. The shopping's probably better in
Melbourne but ... It's a pity it's not summer. Brisbane's got some
really great beaches, by all accounts. The Whitsundays - Oh, and if
you're interested in skiing-" 

I broke in gently. "I think just some local touristy things will be
enough for us." 

"Dana, you're a long way from home. You guys might never come back
here. You can't deprive the kids of the opportunity to see the country,
can you?" 

Trust Jacqueline to push that point. "We'll just stay here for a while,
huh?" I pacified. "There's still plenty to do - what about all those
hikes you told me about?" 

She stared at me for a while, as if assessing my sincerity, then
smiled. "Yeah, okay. A couple more days of bludging won't kill you." 

"Bludging?" I echoed, bemused. "You're developing an interesting
vocabulary, Jacqui." 

She grinned. "When in Rome..." 

Ebony came up behind, tapping Jacqui's arm for attention, which
Jacqueline readily gave. Ebony had a book in her hands, 'Hating Alison
Ashley', and pointed to the page. 

"Transcend? It means to exceed something, to surpass it... to be better
than it," Jacqueline explained.  
Ebony nodded mutely in thanks, glancing at me in an awkward moment. I
felt a burning curiosity about her. I wanted to know what had cause
this silence. 

"Hey Ebs, I thought you were going to come help!"  

Graham, standing beside his four wheel drive with a hose in one hand, a
sponge in the other and a bucket at his feet, gestured with the sponge
hand for her to join him. Ebony ran off without hesitation, leaving the
book in Jacqui's hands. We watched as the two of them soaped, scrubbed
and hosed. As they were polishing Mulder and Erin appeared - Mulder had
taken the kids to the park a street away and, it seemed, left Josh and
Astrid behind. They could get back by themselves. It was a safe area. 
Mulder lowered Erin to the ground, following her as she took her funny
stumbling steps, always as if she were in such a hurry to get
somewhere. Sitting on the porch, Jacqueline and I were only a few feet
away, but Mulder only gave us a smile in acknowledgement, sitting on
the grass and letting Erin literally run circles around him. He caught
her playfully around the waist and pulled her onto his lap, his arms
around her, but she squirmed out, burrowing under, going around him.  
"Da da da!" she crowed, climbing onto his back, throwing her arms
around his neck. I had to fight back the urge to sweep her up into my
arms and never let her go as I watched her. Such a beautiful baby - not
really a baby any more, I thought with bittersweet wistfulness. Still
so inquisitive, playful, beautiful with her red curls, in the little
yellow and purple dress she was wearing that brought out the blue of
her eyes, such innocent, beautiful eyes. She was giggling, gazing at
him cheekily, and he smiled back at her. He loved it, loved her as much
as I did. Often with day care and nannies and Astrid and Josh I began
to forget how much I loved our little girl, how hard we'd fought to get
her, how impossible she had once seemed. 

"He really loves her," Jacqui marvelled, noting as I did the sheer joy
on Mulder's face, the unrestrained laughter as Erin pushed her face
into his, grabbing his cheeks, his ears. 

"Yeah, he does," I agreed softly, quietly content. It was a comforting
thought, exhilarating in a dull, relaxed sort of way.  

"How about some hot chocolate?" 

"Sure," I agreed, standing. "I'll get it." 

She ended up following me into the kitchen, sitting at the table as I
mixed the two mugs. I sat at the table opposite her as we sipped
slowly. She seemed a little tired, maybe, withdrawn. It wasn't often
that Jacqui was quiet and I wondered if something had happened between
herself and Graham. But I didn't pose the question - the mood was too
tranquil to disturb. 

We heard the rain first, then saw the sudden downpour through the
kitchen window. Graham and Ebony ran in, followed by Mulder with Erin
on his shoulders. Josh and Astrid were still at the park, maybe. But
there were trees there to shelter under. They'd manage. 

"You afraid of a little rain?" Jacqui teased her husband as he quickly
closed the kitchen window, moving to the next room to close those too. 

"That's not 'a little' rain," he called, "that's a *lot*." 

Jacqui laughed. "I love rain. It's so cleansing, so earthy, so - Oh my
God, the washing!" 

She jumped up, bolting out through the back door. I followed her down
to the clothesline - it wasn't as heavy as it had appeared, and the
washing wasn't completely soaked, *yet* - and we started frantically
unpegging, tossing the clothes into washing baskets and dashing back up
to the back porch, dropping the baskets and stopping to take a breath.
My sweater was soaked, my jeans damp, my hair all stringy. Jacqui
looked just as bad. She sighed, shrugged.  
"Sorry. We probably should have just left it to get wet, huh?" 

I shrugged. It was too late now. I studied her curiously, watching as
she ran her hands through her hair, rubbed her stomach absently. She
was having to grow up, playing hostess. It was more reponsibility, a
broader responsibility. I wondered if she liked it or not. 

We stayed there for a few moments, feeling each raindrop as it hit the
corrugated plastic roof above. Jacqui was right - rain was cleansing,
earthy. I inhaled deeply. There was something refreshingly raw about
the earth.  

Jacqui nudged me. "C'mon. I'll get you a towel." 

I followed her in, watching as she dumped the basket of wet washing,
smiling at the mock-accusational tone with which she told Graham off
for not helping with the washing. "You do realise that this is only
enhancing Ebony's perception of male-female household stereotypes,
don't you? You sit inside watching TV, feet up, while your barefoot and
pregnant wife -" and it was true, she was barefoot - "runs out into the
*rain* to pull *your* clothes off the line!" 

She grabbed two towels, tossing me one, and I dried my hair, wringing
out my soaked sweater and putting it aside to dry, noting as I did that
the kids had returned while we were saving the washing but had somehow
managed to escape getting too wet. 

Everybody was in the lounge room and I joined Mulder and Astrid sitting
at the table. Mulder was reading a newspaper, Astrid pleading with him 
- she wanted to learn to shoot, I soon discovered. Graham, who had
already taught the kids how to drive the tractor, had offered to teach
her how to use his father's rifle. Mulder offloaded the argument on me
as I sat down and I could only shrug, agreeing to let Astrid try it. I
knew Astrid felt the deprivations of her age keenly and I couldn't see
what harm letting her do this would cause. And it might even ease my
own fears about her safety.  

The rain cleared up only a few minutes later and Astrid dragged Graham
off, wanting to try it right there and then. Josh followed them down,
though whether he would shoot or not I wasn't certain.  
I felt confident enough about the whole thing until I heard the first
distant 'pop'. Then irrational concern overcame me - fear for *Josh*,
somehow - and I excused myself to go find them, needing to be there. 
I needn't have worried. Astrid, as in everything, caught on
immediately. Her aim was excellent, but she was too impatient, not
taking the time to fix on her target. Josh had been studying the way
Astrid shot and he took the rifle from her, discharging several rounds
without instruction. His aim was impeccable.  

We were down there for almost an hour but I didn't mind it. The kids
were excited - they always enjoyed learning new skills - and didn't
want to stop. Astrid was being stubborn about it and although Graham
was handling it well I still felt I had to intervene, telling her
gently that she could practice some more another day. She scowled at me
but followed with Josh after Graham to feed the chooks, and when they
returned to the house ten minutes later she was grinning again, pushing
the eggs she'd collected in my face proudly, telling us that when we
got home she wanted some pet chickens of her own. There was no
dissuading her - despite her very adult mind she was still a child at
heart. I wondered if she realised that.  
  

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

- JACQUELINE POV - 

After dinner Grae got a game of cricket started up on the lawn. The
ground was still wet; you could hear every sloshing step in the grass.
But the kids didn't mind. Grae had talked Ebony into playing, and Josh
was bowling underarm so that she could hit them. She still held the bat
as if it were a shield. Dana and Astrid were fielding and giggling
about something. I sat on the sofa on the verandah with Erin, reading
her a storybook, keeping an eye on the game. Fox, who had been bowling
earlier, had slid in the mud and gone inside to change. I'd expected
him to go rejoin the game but instead he appeared beside me.  
"Can I join you?" 

"Sure, sit," I agreed uneasily. He sat beside me and Erin lunged at
him, managing to kick my stomach. I winced. 

"You okay?" I was surprised to see genuine concern in his eyes as he
held Erin's grabbing, flailing limbs away from me. 

"She kicked me, that's all." 

It hadn't even hurt that much, it was just my ultrasensitivity. I was,
in all truth, terrified about this baby.  
I pushed the thought away. I'd managed to ignore the fear this long, I
could keep it at bay a while longer. I just needed to think of
something else. I focused on Dana, now bowling to Josh. He was getting
stronger - he hit it over the fence to next door. Grae crowed "Howzat!"
and he and Astrid both went running. 
"Dana looks happy," I observed gently, knowing that I had to be careful
not to really interfere. I didn't want Fox to get mad. 

He stared across at her curiously, then smiled, chuckling. "Yeah, she
is," he agreed. That simple thought seemed to brighten him up
immediately. But, then again, Dana had always had that effect on him. 

Dana looked like she was giggling again, smiling that completely
unrestrained, joyous smile. She saw us and waved. Fox held Erin up and
they both waved to Dana. Erin giggled, bouncing on Fox's knees. He
lowered her down, letting her run on the verandah. She ran to the gap
in the palings and peered through, giggling, before running back,
climbing up onto Fox's lap and burying her face in his sweater
playfully.  

"It's great to see her happy," I said, my eyes on Erin. But Fox knew
who I was referring to. 

"Yeah. It is." Erin rolled over on his lap, rearranging herself, and he
slid an arm around her tiny form, bending to kiss the top of her head.
He looked up again, gazing out over the lawn.   
"The more intimate we got, the happier she seemed to be... originally,
I mean. The more easily she laughed and giggled. God, I love it when
she giggles, when she's just giddy." He glanced across at me, his eyes
lit up. "It wasn't just being with me that made her laugh, you know. It
was something at work or just around the house, something that before
maybe she would have just cracked a smile... Instead she *beamed*, a
thousand watts, grinned at me and giggled. I'd never really known she
had that in her. Especially after everything I put her through." 

Why did he have to end on such an unanswereable note? I didn't know how
to deal with the self-pity, honest though it was.  

"She looks more in love with you now than she did before," was all I
said. It was the simple truth. I didn't know how it could be possible,
because the love between them in the beginning - my beginning - had
been overwhelming, immeasureable. But now... maybe because it was so
certain, radiating from each of them unfalteringly. "You're a very
lucky man." 

He nodded, glancing across at me appraisingly. "Yeah," he agreed
simply. "I know." 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

Scarred gumtrees stretched up into the sky, the grass under us was
largely thistles. Still, we managed to find a clear enough area to
pause, Mulder dropping to the ground, stretched out on his back, one
hand under his head, the other against his chest as he panted for
breath. The bushwalk track we'd chosen had ended up being just as
tiring on the way down the hill as it was up, and the fact that we'd
been hurrying down to beat the fading sunlight and gathering
stormclouds didn't help. I was panting a little but Mulder was out of
breath, as if he'd run a hundred yards sprint. He'd been gradually
slowing down since he was last shot, tiring easier, his lung capacity
reduced. He still swam a little, still jogged, but I wondered how much
longer he'd be able to keep on chasing suspects. The last injury had
left irreparable damage, and now more than ever was no time to be
thinking himself immortal. 

"Getting old," he mumbled jokingly, still wheezing a little as he sat
up. He grabbed my hand and tugged me down so that I sat in the v of his
legs, his arms and legs around me.  

"You're not retired yet," I retorted gently, snuggling against him. 

We sat there together for several minutes, getting our breath back,
taking a chance to just wallow in the surrounding environment. It was
only light scrub, a lot of eucalyptus trees, different dry, prickly
bushes, some wildflowers. Birds squarked above us, disturbing the
foliage, sensitive to the approaching storm. Earlier in the afternoon
we'd been startled by a rustling in the bushes behind us. Thinking that
we were being followed, instinctively we'd reached for the weapons
which we weren't, of course, carrying. We were being stalked, true; but
only by a wallaby, with dirty fur and moth-eaten ears. It was our first
contact with such an animal and Mulder and I had paused for a moment
simply to stare. It had stared back, frozen in place, nose twitching
like a dog's, before taking off again, literally in leaps and bounds.  

I reached down, playing absently with the laces on Mulder's hiking
boots, pulling the burrs out of them. Scuffed and worn, they'd
certainly seen better days. How many different locations had he
trespassed on in these? It was a surreal thought. 
I slid up the cuffs of his jeans a little so that I could grip around
his ankles with a satisfied, playful sense of ownership. "You can't get
away." 

"I don't want to." 

I smiled, knowing I would be content to sit there, enclosed in him, for
hours. Only a few minutes later, though, I did feel pangs of concern.
As much as I wanted to stay there and cherish the moment with him...
"We should get back before dark. We don't want to get lost." 

He shrugged. "We're only ten minutes from the car." 

It was going to rain soon. You could tell by the oppressive heaviness
of the atmosphere. Erin didn't like thunderstorms. I didn't want to
leave Jacqui dealing with that.  

Feeling a raindrop on my hair, I took his hand from my knee, kissed the
knuckles, and then pushed it away so that I could stand. "We've got to
get back to the car or we'll be soaked." 

I pulled him upright. We brushed ourselves off and got back on the
track. The rain was getting heavier - at first it was refreshing,
because we quickly got sweaty again. The bush was earthy, the pattering
of rain on the leaves pleasant, the occasional drop that slid under the
collar was bearable. But it very quickly got too heavy and in the
pouring rain it took us forever to find the turnoff to the old road
where we'd parked the car. We were soaked through to the bone.  

How many nights had we spent like this? I wondered. Nights spent
running around in the dark, lost, dreaming of a warm shower or dry bed
or simply the freedom to pause and think. Ever since our very first
case there'd been so many late nights, incredible happenings in bizarre
circumstances, more danger than anybody should ever have to deal with.
Mulder in particular had always seemed to enjoy the thrill of hunting
in the dark, running off on a hunch with only a celphone and Sig Sauer.
Still, since gaining the kids - and more responsibility to me, too -
he'd been far less foolish. Having Erin in particular had tamed him. He
knew that he couldn't just be out all night chasing UFOs or warewolves,
infiltrating covert operations and going to any lengths necessary in
the name of the truth. Only a man alone in the world could live that
selfishly. 

We were both a little frustrated and, after peeling off most of our
outer layers and towelling the rest dry as well as we could, our drive
home was silent. It wasn't really that I blamed him for our trouble in
finding the car, the half hour we'd spent in the rain. But I was cold
and irritable and really just didn't have the energy to talk.  

It was only on reaching 'home' that I finally spoke. "You can have
first shower." 

"You can go first. I didn't get as wet as you did." 

I pushed away my frustration and smiled, a compromise. "We'll share." 
  

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

- MULDER POV - 

"I was thinking about what we talked about the other night." Jacqueline
came up from behind unexpectedly, dropping down beside me on the back
step, hands on her belly. She managed to move casually and easily
despite her size. "About being happy, I mean." 

"And?" 

"I really envy you two. You know that, don't you?" 

I stared at her, surprised by the admission. She looked nervous. I
nodded slightly. "I guess." 

She looked at me wistfully. "I love seeing you guys so happy together,
I really do. But at the same time I can't stop myself from feeling so
jealous. It's terrible, I know. I shouldn't feel that way, because
you're my friends, and we're family too, now, I guess. But I you and
Dana are so happy, and the kids, too... I want that. I just don't know
how to achieve it, how to reach it." She paused, shaking her head a
little. I could see wistful tears in her eyes. "I keep thinking that
the *next* step will gain me happiness and contentment... a
relationship, marriage, a child... But I'm scared maybe I'll never
reach that. I'm really, *really* scared." 

Why had she chosen me for this confession, I wondered awkwardly. Some
sort of reponse to my musings the other night?  
All I could do was pat her back. I didn't know how to deal with her as
it was. She was Samantha's daughter, and that the sister I still saw as
an eight year old in braids could have a daughter now nearly as adult
as I was jarred. This blood relationship, instead of making things
easier, only made them harder. There was too wide a chasm. 

She pulled away from me, sniffing. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't burden you
with that." 

I grabbed her arm as she stood, not really knowing what possessed me to
do so. "Jacqui?" 

"Yeah?" 

I took a second, trying to formulate something to say. "Just give
yourself some time. It takes some of us a long time to find real
happiness." 

She nodded and I released her, watching as she went back into the
house. I heard clatters in the kitchen as she started to cook dinner,
conversation as Scully joined her. Graham was back in the city for a
couple of days, and although it meant Scully and I had to dedicate more
time to Jacqueline in his absence, it was still comfortable, or as
comfortable as I could get around Jacqueline. Would I ever feel close
enough to her to accept her, in a way, as the sister I lost? She wasn't
Samantha, but she was so similar - I could see that now. Inquisitive,
interfering, a little bossy when it suited. Was this how Samantha would
have grown up? Brilliantly smart, eager about life despite its cruelty
toward her, eternally fascinated by the lives of others?  
If Samantha had turned out in any way how Jacqueline did, I would have
been proud of her. 
  

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

- JACQUELINE POV - 

I knew the whole catalog of pains and cramps associated with pregnancy.
Thinking it was just indigestion, I ignored the pains at first - they
were, after all, only random. My mind wasn't in any way on *labour*.  
But after three quarters of an hour or so teeth gritting wasn't
sufficient and I started to panic. I was in labor, the contractions
were agony, and I was barely eight months along. Oh God. 

I grimaced as I climbed out of bed, having trouble catching my breath.
My head swam with the pain. One hand on the wall for support and
guidance in the dark, I made my way along to Fox and Dana's room. They
usually left their door ajar but now it was closed - I knew what that
meant, but it was past two am and I knew they'd be asleep. 
The door creaked as I pushed it open, giving myself a second to try and
see anything. There was a little light coming through the curtains and
they lay asleep in the shadows, entwined, sheets twisted around them. I
could see Fox's bare hairy legs. Dana was wearing one of Fox's shirts -
the one I'd seen him in just before they'd gone to bed, when he'd
wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her, grinning. I'd
wished Grae was here with me. 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

She must have made a noise to wake me because I stirred enough to open
my eyes. She stood there, whitefaced in the moonlight. In flannel teddy
bear print pajamas and her hair back in braids, she looked only
fifteen. 

"Dana, I think I'm having contractions." 

A terrified fifteen-year-old. 

I shook Mulder, climbing out of bed and switching on the light. I heard
him groan at being woken but my eyes were on Jacqui. She grimaced, as
if a contraction were beginning, and hugged her stomach tightly,
sucking in a deep, pained breath. 
"Just breathe," I encouraged gently, waiting as she rode out the pain.
She wasn't taking it so well. "Don't panic. We're all here, right?
There's nothing to panic about." 

But my words weren't helping. The contraction ended and she leaned back
a little. But she was unsteady on her feet and fell back, pupils
rolling. I grabbed one arm to steady her and Mulder, out of bed in a
bound, caught her, swinging her up in his arms like a child. 

I followed behind as he carried her back into her darkened bedroom,
switching on the light for them as he laid her down on the bed, joking
gently with her, reassuring her.  
There was spotting on the sheets.  

I shooed him out of the room to examine her but she wasn't dialated at
all and there was very little blood. Still, I sent Mulder for some
towels, told him to put a call through to Graham's apartment in the
city.  

I sat with Jacqui, trying to calm her, comfort her, letting her squeeze
my hand until it went numb. She was in quite a lot of pain, I could
see, curled up holding her sides, moaning, crying softly. She refused
all offers of painkillers, saying it was bad for the baby. She wanted
Graham.  

Eventually - it must have been an hour or so after she'd woken us - the
pains seemed to decline. There had been no more bleeding - I'd checked
every few minutes or so, afraid of her haemorrhaging. 
"Am I okay?" she'd ask every time I checked, in that same panicked,
terrified voice, sinking back against the pillows at my assured answer.
Thank God we were here, was all I could think. What if we hadn't been,
if Jacqueline had gone into labour, alone in the house with only Ebony
for company? Thank God we were here.  

She seemed to be falling asleep. Mulder and I had been taking turns
sitting with her, ringing Graham with updates. He sounded as panicked
as Jacqui, though perhaps a little grimmer. Neither of them were as
used to dealing with emergency situations as we were. 

"What if the baby dies?" 

I squeezed her hand. "That's not going to happen." 

"It might. Babies are stillborn, even in this day and age, with all the
best medical equipment." 

"That's not going to happen to you, Jacqui," I promised her.  

She shook a little, teary eyed. "I'm so scared of going through
childbirth," she admitted in a small voice. "It must sound so
ridiculous, with my work and everything, but I don't know how my body
will cope with it. I'm just scared..." 

"I was scared too," I confessed, hoping to calm her. "About Erin. After
everything I didn't know if I could carry a pregnancy through. I could
only hope, and pray." I smiled, encouraging. "But I ended up with a
beautiful little girl. It's the outcome you've got to look at." 

She shook her head. More tears were coming. "I can't let myself get my
hopes up." 
  

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

- MULDER POV - 

Jacqueline refused to stay in Gerrideen any longer. After the night's
scare she was adamant; she wanted to be far closer to a hospital, and
as close to the best hospital possible. She spoke her demands clearly,
though the false labour had taken more toll on her than the real thing
did Scully -Jacqui had slept til past eleven and awoken puffy eyed,
moved sluggishly. After seeing her move as lightly as a dancer the last
couple of days it was a sad contrast.  

Graham shared her concerns but had recovered enough to make
arrangements, and I was surprised at the speed of which he organised
everything. He rented a furnished house five minutes drive from a large
private hospital, rang the Gerrideen neighbours and organised for them
to care for the two kittens. He was going to drive up to collect
Jacqueline and Ebony but logic prevaled and Jacqueline said she'd drive
down with us. He had taken the Pajero but we had our rental and we all
fitted, dog and all, luggage on roofracks. 
The drive down was a nerve-wracking one. Aside from the usual
travelling tedium of the kids in the back seat there was Ebony's
discomforting silence as she sat with the old mutt curled up on her lap
like an oversized cat, Jacqueline's nervous rocking, Erin's crankiness,
and everybody's concern for Jacqueline and the baby, as if she were
going to go into real labour as she sat in the passenger seat.  
Graham met us at the house and Jacqueline greeted him with something
akin to desperation. It was still only early afternoon and Graham had
booked an appointment at a local OBG-YN at three-thirty. He and
Jacqueline left a little early, leaving us to do most of the
unpacking.  

There wasn't much - all our own bags repacked, Scully had helped the
distracted Jacqueline pack a few things for herself and Ebony. It was a
sudden exit, strange to leave a landscape we'd all begun to adjust to,
knowing we wouldn't be going back. 

It was a pleasant suburb, very green. Most of the houses were brick,
build in maybe the last twenty or so years. Ours had three garages, two
storeys, five bedrooms, three bathrooms, and a swimming pool and yard.
How much was Graham forking out for this, I wondered. We should offer
to split the rent, I thought, but when I suggested it earlier Graham
had brushed the suggestion aside with the wave of a hand. 

We put Jacqueline's belongings in the master bedroom with Graham's, and
put Ebony in the smaller room beside theirs. Scully and I took the
second double bedroom, Josh was in the room one side of ours and Astrid
and Erin the other. We'd left the crib behind, not taking the time to
dismantle it, and set up the portable playpen for Erin to sleep in
before going around to childproof the place. Scully was formulating a
grocery list when Jacqueline and Graham returned.  

She looked a little more relaxed than she had earlier, still gripping
Graham's hand tightly but not as pale. She wanted to lie down for a
while, she said, and Graham took her upstairs to tuck her in. Ebony
trailed behind them a little of the way but then hung back at the
bottom of the stairs. They barely noticed her. 

Graham gave us a brief update when he returned - the baby's heartrate
had been strong, the doctor couldn't see any damage had been done,
suggesting the false labour had been brought on by stress. I thought of
the words Jacqueline had whispered to Scully and didn't doubt it. She
was terrified of giving birth. Oh, the irony... 
Graham brought in from the car a box, withdrawing an object Scully and
I immediately recognised - it was a fetal heart monitor.  

"Better to be safe than sorry," Graham shrugged grimly, stopping only
briefly to pat Ebony on the head before taking it upstairs. 

Astrid and I were sent out to do the shopping. When we returned,
lugging grocery bags, we found Ebony and Josh sitting in front of the
chessboard somebody had squeezed into the car. Ebony wasn't very good
at the game, it was evident, but Josh was talking her through it,
quietly encouraging. Graham sat on the sofa in front of the TV,
flicking channels, glancing down occasionally at Erin who was playing
on the rug. I went up the stairs to find Scully coming from
Jacqueline's room.  

"How's she doing?" 

Scully rubbed at her forehead, looking a little tired. "She's asleep.
She'll be okay, she just needs some rest." 

I nodded, taking her by the arm and leading her into our bedroom,
gently closing the door after us. I quietly narrated the conversations
Jacqueline and I had shared and Scully caught on immediately.  

"Mulder, you can't hold yourself responsible for her anxiety." 

"But it must be stressing her out, having us around," I protested. "If
she feels that way." 

She shrugged. "I guess. Maybe. But I want to stick around for a while
longer, just be here in case she needs us." 

There was that protective streak, the lioness within her. I would be
stupid to disagree, even if I wanted to. 

I nodded. "Sure." 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

It got dark so early, only just past five, but after her nap Jacqueline
seemed eager to go out for a walk anyway. There was a public park a few
streets away, illuminated by streetlights, and she and Graham sat
together on the grass, watching the kids playing. Ebony, looking very
neglected, sat idly swinging on a tireswing, head hung. If it was
Astrid I would have given her a hug, known she had done something wrong
and whispered to her that I loved her no matter what. But all I could
do for Ebony was to kneel beside her and make gentle small talk. She
didn't respond, barely looked at me.  
We went back to the house for some dinner. It was an awkward meal -
nothing anybody could say or do could attract more than a second of
Jacqueline's attention, she was still so heavily distracted. Graham
lavished attention upon her, barely letting her lift a finger. She was
back in pajamas again by eight thirty but insisted she wasn't tired.
She and Graham settled down to watch a movie, Mulder watched as Astrid
and Josh played chess and I took Erin and Ebony, who were both looking
sleepy, upstairs to get them ready for bed. 
Ebony grudgingly sat beside me as I read Erin a bedtime story. Erin was
asleep halfway through but Ebony seemed to be listening, following the
words on the page, so I kept going. It was only a children's book but
the illustrations were beautiful. After I put Erin down for the night I
went into Ebony's room, watching as she tucked herself into bed. There
was a bedside lamp and I moved closer to switch it on, offering her the
book. Drawing the blankets up around herself protectively, she reached
out a shy hand to take it, hugging it close as if trying to hide it.  
"Goodnight, sweetie," I said gently. I moved to the doorway, switching
off the ceiling light. She kept her eyes on me. She wasn't going to do
anything until I left.  

I went downstairs again, and found Mulder now playing against Astrid,
Josh sitting reading a book. Jacqui and Graham were still snuggled on
the couch, his hands over hers on her stomach. I caught a nervous laugh
from Jacqueline. "She kicked. Did you feel it?" 

The movie was some b-grade thriller and halfway through Jacqui decided
she'd had enough. She insisted that Graham stay and keep watching - she
didn't, I knew, like being coddled quite so suffocatingly. She craved
it, but then pushed it away. Nevertheless, I accompanied her up the
stairs and checked her blood pressure for her - she wouldn't budge from
the idea that it was pre-eclampsia, despite how many times I reassured
her. She climbed into bed, by all appearances making herself
comfortable, but I could see how tense she was. What was she so scared
of? Why all of a sudden was this fear surfacing? 

"Why are you so afraid?" I asked gently. 

She shook her head. "I don't know, Dana. But I can't shake it. Ever
since last night, I just haven't been able to shake the feeling
something really, *really* bad is going to happen. God, I know that
sounds like such a childish thing to say, but I'm scared this baby is
going to die, that because of me, of what I am..." 

"Don't." I interrupted her firmly. "Just don't think things like that."

She nodded, a frightened child's nod. And I realised why she had wanted
us here. The same reason why I'd wanted my Mom during my pregnancy -
the wisdom and assurance and hugs of somebody who was always able to
stop bad things from going wrong, whose virtual presence seemed to
provide a promise of success. 
I was the closest Jacqueline had ever had to a mother, and she needed
me to play that role, however close we sometimes seemed to be in age.
She was once again just a child, a daughter. 

"You don't have to be afraid, Jacqui. I'm here, Mulder's here, and
Graham's here. And you know how much he cares for you." 

"Not as much as Fox cares for you," she mumbled. 

"It's incomparable, Jacqui. You and he are different to Mulder and I.
All relationships are different. Graham loves you, that's all that
matters." 

She sniffed, wiggling closer to where I sat on the edge of the bed. I
stroked her hair as if she were Astrid. "Be excited about this baby,
not scared. Everything will go fine and if anything *does* go wrong,
you've got me here, right? I've delivered a baby before, in about as
bad as a situation can get. Nothing can surprise Mulder and I. And
we're five minutes from the hospital. You're safe. So enjoy it. Revel
in it." 

She gave me a small nod, eyes fluttering closed and then open again.
She yawned. "God, I'm tired." 

I patted her arm. "Get some sleep. You've gotta cherish those full
nights while you still can, right?" 

That earned me a sleepy chuckle. "Sure." 

"And Jacqui?" I added, recalling Mulder's narration earlier. "Don't
look past what you've got, huh?" 

No response. She was asleep. She shared that habit of dropping off
suddenly with Josh and Astrid, one of the few common traits. They were,
after all, siblings. That would never change. 
  

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

- MULDER POV - 

Jacqueline was already up and dressed when I went downstairs in the
morning. She sat on a barstool at the kitchen counter, glass of orange
juice in one hand, box of Fruit Loops open in front of her. She put the
glass down, reached into the cereal box and grabbed a handful, eating
it piece by piece. "'Morning." 

I glanced at the clock. It was just after six. "You're up early." 

"I woke up hours ago. Couldn't get back to sleep. You hungry?" I
nodded. "There's some cereal and bread in the pantry. The bread's from
yesterday... Shop on the corner doesn't open til seven-thirty. You can
put some coffee on, if you want." 

She was uncomfortable but trying to be friendly. Would we ever resolve
this awkwardness?  

I made myself some coffee, making small talk with Jacqueline as I stood
in the kitchen, drinking it. She was talking about baby names; both boy
and girl. They didn't know what it would be, but Jacqueline seemed sure
it was a girl.  
"I love Mariah... isn't that a beautiful name? Or Isobella...." She
suddenly shrugged. "But we're waiting til she's born to make up our
minds." She waved a hand around. "I like this place. There's so much
light." 

It was true, although right then it was still dark outside. Many of the
rooms on the first floor had large, full-length plate glass windows. It
was an open house with wide doorways, plenty of air and light. The
floors were tiled and carpeted in a creamy colour - whoever built this
house clearly never intended children to live in it - and the walls
were white. The furniture was comfortable and stylish, clean-cut and
modern without being dated. Most of the shelves were bare, a few
tastefully colourful prints hung on the walls. It was a world away from
the house we'd left. 

"Gerideen" - and by this she was referring to their house, not just the
suburb, I realised - "is so cluttered. Comfortable and homey but... you
know, almost suffocating. Every sideboard or table covered with
silverware and ceramic dishes and photoframes... fifty years of
collectables. And that's after we went through and threw out all the
junk. Grae's dad was such a collector. Pack rat. I don't really
understand that. But, then," she shrugged and yawned, "people are
different." 

I nodded in agreement, moving to rinse out my empty coffee mug. 

"What were your parents like?" 

I froze at her sudden question, almost dropping the mug. 

"I mean, Astrid's told me some bits, but I just think I'd like to know.
They were my grandparents, after all..." 

"They were very complicated people." 

"Your Dad was involved in the whole mess, huh?" 

That was how she always referred to the project, the tangle of
conspiracies and alien sciences. 'The whole mess.' 

"Yeah, I guess you could put it that way. He had a lot to do with it." 

"And with your sister being taken... That was his choice?" 

I nodded tightly, not trusting myself to speak. *Scully*, I thought
desperately. I need my Scully. 

"Would have been a tough choice, huh? I mean, knowing what was going to
happen -" 

I cut her off. "Do we have to talk about this?" 

She looked at me, surprised, as if not realising how insensitive her
probing was. "Oh. Sorry. God, I'm sorry. I've gotta learn to mind my
own business. I should have -" 

"Forget it," I said brusquely. My head was aching and I rubbed my eyes.
The lights were too bright. I moved out of the kitchen, touching
Jacqueline awkwardly on the shoulder in some attempt to apologise or
forgive, and made my way up the stairs.  

Scully was still asleep, curled up among the comforter. I crawled up
beside her, snuggling, embracing her, needing to hold her, hold myself
together. She was a nugget of warmth, so small in my arms but so
certain, so complete. I loved her, so overwhelmingly. 

"Mulder?" Her voice was sleepy but puzzled. She wriggled a little as if
trying to move but I held her too tightly. "Mulder, you all right?" 

"Just let me hold you," I pleaded, only a whisper. 

I felt the breath she drew, the new tenseness in her body. I wished
that I didn't hurt her so much with my problems, but rejoiced because I
knew I could rely on her.  

"Sure," she whispered, resigned. "I'm not going anywhere." 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

Mulder clung to me all day. Actually, he clung to all of us all day. He
and I took the kids - Ebony included - to a local wildlife park, a
large zoolike place with a host of Australian animals. Even as he
worked with Astrid, showing her how to use his camera as she eagerly
photographed sunbaking kangaroos and sleeping koalas and strutting
peacocks, he managed to never move more than a few feet from my side.
Josh was persevering with Ebony, telling her about the different
animals he saw, reading the signs aloud to her. Mulder wouldn't let
them wander more than a few feet away. He wouldn't even let me take
Erin out of the stroller, too afraid she'd get lost somehow. He was so
tense, so watchful, and I wondered what had scared him. What had
happened early this morning that had him so paranoid? 

"Mulder? You wanna tell me what's going on?" 

His reply was too quick. "It's nothing." 

"Don't B.S. me, Mulder." 

He shook his head, wrapping his arm around me, touching my shoulder.
"Really, it's nothing. I'm just tired." As if to emphasize the point he
yawned. Before I could argue he touched the collar of my shirt, all
that was visible under the winter jacket. "I love you in this colour.
It really brings out your eyes." 

The shirt was gorgeous, a brilliant blue. He'd bought it for me a month
or two ago. He was odd with presents like that - he would buy on
impulse but then save the gift for the right moment. This he'd given me
several days after the Sabrina Woodhouse incident. I'd only been
holding myself together with a thread and having trouble finding the
motivation to get myself up in the mornings. One Saturday morning I'd
laid in bed til past ten - unheard of, for me - and eventually he'd
dragged me out from under the covers and forced me to shower. Returning
to the bedroom, I'd found he'd laid out clothes for me already; some
casual dark jeans and the blue shirt, which fitted me perfectly, as if
he'd gone through my wardrobe to work out my exact measurements. I was
wearing that same outfit today. 

I only smiled in response, sliding an arm around his waist, hugging him
tightly. He was so needy, always, but now more than usual. It was
draining. 

We stopped for lunch and souvenirs. Erin was getting cranky so we put
her down for a nap when we got back to the house. Mulder seemed tired
too and I ordered him to take some time out. He sat on our bed reading
a copy of USA Today he'd picked up on the way home, forehead creased in
a frown.  
Downstairs, Jacqueline was cooking something. The kitchen was a mess,
and with Ebony now hovering behind her I could see Jacqui getting
upset. Graham, her source of strength, had gone out somewhere for the
morning and that had had a surprisingly visible impact on her.  

A portable CD player sat on the kitchen counter, playing as she worked.
I recognised the song soon enough - Jacqui had played it repeatedly
both here and back at Gerrideen. "Are you happy?" droned the sultry,
melancholy voice. "Three wishes were granted, but are you happy?" I
hardly thought that listening to those lyrics could be any good for
Jacqueline. 

Astrid, sitting at the kitchen counter, was trying to keep a cheerful
conversation going, but it only seemed to distract Jacqui further. I
nudged Astrid. "How about you and Josh and Ebony go play outside?" 

She looked at me sceptically. "Play *what*?" 

"Make something up." You're in the way, sweetie, I added silently. Josh
would have realised that, but Astrid didn't see it. 

A pout. "Mommy..." 

"Please, Astrid?" The frustration came out in my voice and she looked
at me, wide eyed, mouth forming an 'oh'.  

She glanced oh-so quickly at Jacqueline, turned around to yell
"Joshie!", and then grabbed Ebony's arm, unceremoniously tugging her
out through the glass doors. "C'mon. Let's play outside." 
Josh must have deciphered the situation from Astrid's voice because he
appeared from upstairs, on his way out after them grabbing the cricket
bat and ball from just inside. I looked back at Jacqui. She was piling
dirty mixing bowls up beside the sink and twisted the faucet on. A
stream of water spurted out with all the ferocity of Niagra and she
squirted out a hefty dose of dishwashing liquid. Why wasn't she just
using the dishwasher? I wondered. 

"What did you think of Koala Park?" 

"The kids had fun." 

"You see more animals in zoos these days than you do in the wild. I
guess that's the same world over, huh?" 

"Yeah." 

Silence. She scrubbed at the dishes with a scourer. She still didn't
look up at me.  

"What happened this morning?" 

A sideways glance. "This morning?" 

"Mulder came back upstairs this morning and held on to me as if I were
the only possession he owned. Did you say something to him?" 

"No." She mustn't have thought that sounded very believeable either
because she repeated, more emphatically, "No. Nothing happened. We were
just ...talking." 

"About Samantha?" 

"He told you?" 

"No." It wasn't that hard. All his tenseness lately could be attributed
to Samantha. How sick I was of that.  

"It wasn't as if I really said anything, Dana. I swear. I just wanted
to know a bit more about his parents. There's so many gaps I'm just
trying to fill in." 

I could only pity her. She shrugged helplessly, wiping at her eye with
washing-up gloved hands, leaving a smudge of tiny bubbles on her
cheek.  

"I just want Fox to *like* me, Dana. It's not much more than that. But
now more than ever I just have no idea how to talk to him and he just
doesn't seem to want me around. All he sees is you and the kids. Any
time I try to talk to him I seem to always put a foot wrong. The whole
time I just feel like he's pushing me away." 

"You killed his sister," I reminded her, as gently as I could. "That
makes things difficult." And they'd never really gotten along. I was
surprised that he was still talking to her. 

"He only has the life he has now because of me," she countered
defensively. She looked at me long enough to see that her eyes were
bloodshot.  

"Does this really matter so much to you?" I wondered aloud. 

She shrugged helplessly. "He's my uncle, Dana. I've got real family.
I've never had that before. I just want to be able to have it, in
peace." 

"He's trying." 

"Yeah, I know. He's trying, and I'm trying, but it just doesn't seem
like we're getting far..." 

I shrugged, tired of the conversation. Why did I feel Jacqueline and I
had already discussed this endlessly? 

"He's touchy about Samantha," I said, gently but firmly. "It's
understandable. So just try to keep off the subject, huh?" 

She nodded, stacking the last washed dish in the drying rack and
peeling off the gloves. "Yeah, okay." She rubbed her neck, tired. She
was always tired now. That concerned me but I didn't want to frighten
her further by mentioning it. "I'm going to see the kids are up to." 
  

Erin was asleep. Her arms were around Mulder's neck, head lolling, and
he held her firmly against him as he stood at the bedroom window. I
joined him there, looking down at the backyard where the kids were
playing some variation of cricket. The old dog was curled up under a
tree, keeping a lazy eye on them. 

I nudged him gently. "She's asleep. You can put her down." 

He shook his head, only slightly. His grip on her was so beautifully
possessive, supporting her, fingers gently stroking her back. I knew
exactly how it felt to be held like that. 

"Mulder?" 

No response. These one-sided conversations were getting tedious. 

"Mulder, answer me." 

"What?" 

"Can you do something for me? Can you try and make peace with
Jacqueline?" 

"I'm trying, Scully." 

"I know you are. But just... keep trying, huh? She's stressed enough as
it is." 

I could see the muscles in his neck and jaw constrict. He was getting
angry. He looked at me, eyes dark with pain. 'What about *me*?' they
were demanding. 

He turned away, laying Erin down on the bed, carefully kissing her
sleep-flushed cheek, touching her hair. I loved the tenderness he gave
her, but envied it's uncomplicated nature. 

"Come here." I beckoned him closer, taking his hand, catching it only
by the fingertips. He was angry with me. "I'm sorry." 
  

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

- JACQUELINE POV - 

I could see them up there, silhouetted against the window as they stood
still, side by side, hands held in a tenuous grip. I knew I was largely
contributing to their problems and God knows that wasn't my intention
at all. But I didn't know what I could do about it.  

It was like watching a mime show. She said something, reaching up to
touch his cheek. He pulled away from her and she drew back, gazing at
him. They were both frowning. She tried again, this time cupping the
back of his head and drawing him closer. His head bowed, she kissed his
forehead, then kissed him briefly on the lips before he buried his head
in the crook of her neck. I looked away again. 
  

Graham arrived home ten minutes later. All I wanted was to be held and
he obliged, hugging me against him. But I pulled away after only a
minute, feeling suffocated, needing my space. I hated that I needed
that. I knew it frustrated him, my need but inability to receive
comfort. But he was dealing with my idiosyncrasies better lately.
Humouring me because of my pregnancy. I loved him for it, though it
worried me, too. How long til he started snapping at me again? 

Grae suggested we all go into the city for the afternoon - explore
Circular Quay, go to the Rocks markets, catch a ferry. The mere thought
of it exhausted me and I quickly declined. I'd done all the touristy
things before. Grae still seemed keen to go, even when Dana said she'd
stay behind with me. Fox seemed reluctant and she practically pushed
him out the door, Erin in his arms. 
  

It was still only mid-afternoon, just before three. I checked the
scones I had cooking in the oven dubiously. It was the first time I'd
attempted the recipe and it was hard to tell whether they were done or
not, so I pulled one out, giving it a second to cool before slicing it
open. It seemed about done so I pulled the tray out of the oven.
Somehow the thought of using an ovenmitt completely slipped my mind and
I grabbed the tray with my bare hands. I felt the searing heat burning
my skin, but barely registered the tray sliding from my hands. Scones
bounced on the floor. 

"Damnit!" I cursed, realising what had happened as if there were a
delay in the transmission of data from my eyes to brain. I quickly ran
cold water, putting my hands under the flow, gritting my teeth as it
stung.  

"Show me," Dana instructed calmly, reaching for my hands. I held them
out reluctantly, feeling stupid. What a ridiculously basic task to mess
up.  

"You might want to put some sort of burn cream on," she said gently.
"It's not too bad, though." 

I nodded, glad she wasn't reprimanding or questioning me on the error.
I went upstairs to get the burn cream from the bathroom cabinet - still
wedged firmly in the box of all things medical we'd brought from
Gerrideen - and lathered it on, trying not to touch the actual burns
too much. Dana was right, it wasn't bad. I still couldn't get over how
stupid I had been, though.  

Dana was picking scones up off the kitchen floor when I returned,
brushing them off with her fingers as they went. "They should be edible
enough," she said gently, laying the plateful on the counter, nudging
it toward me. But I wasn't hungry any longer. I shook my head. She
nodded. "The kids'll eat them later." 

"Yeah," I nodded. And I burst into tears. 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

I almost screamed with frustration when she began to cry. Enough was
enough. Being surrounded by so much stress and unhappiness was making
any joy in my own life impossible. I felt weighed down and drowning in
the world's grief. And on top of that was the guilt of feeling that
way, of ceasing to really empathise with - or, dare I say it, care for
- people I loved as they grieved. I was burnt out, desensitised to it.
Any pain I felt was only dull, distanced. I didn't like what was
happening to me. 

When she stopped crying long enough to panic about the baby she
insisted we hook up the fetal heart monitor and check that the baby was
okay. After that was established she seemed to calm down a little and
wanted to take Milo for a walk. I suggested we wait a while, let her
have a rest, and she immediately agreed. I could have told her right
then that the moon was made of cheese and she would have agreed with
me, I think. 

We played some chess, then she suggested taking the dog out again and
this time I agreed. It was getting darker but the fresh air definately
seemed to have a positive effect on her. She was far more attentive
than she had been the day before and by the time we returned to the
house she seemed relaxed enough to crack some jokes.  

I didn't allow myself to be optimistic, however much things were
starting to look up. At the moment, I was all out of hope. 
  

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

- JACQUELINE POV - 

Dana sent Grae and I out for the night. Whether that was to separate
Fox and I or whether she herself wanted space from me, I didn't know,
but it turned out to be an enjoyable night. It seemed like it had been
a long, long time since Grae and I were alone together. 

We went to see a movie - was this the first time we'd ever gone to the
cinemas together? I wondered - and then for a late dinner. We got a
plate of nachos to share and sat on a park bench eating with our
fingers. It was impossible to do so delicately; after two minutes my
fingers were greasy and cheesy, I had sauce dripping down my chin, sour
cream on the tip of my nose.  

Grae cleaned me up as if I were a child, with enough playful comments
to get a giggle out of me. It had been a while since I'd giggled, I
realised. The tension released was palpable. 

We sat for a while, more comfortable than I'd expected. I felt good.
Not exactly great, but after the past few days, 'good' was wonderful.  

"You're quiet, chikee." That was his nickname of the moment - it
changed regularly. 

"Just thinking." 

"No!" he sounded aghast. 

I smiled, elbowing him gently. "Don't mock me." 

He chuckled. "Sorry. It's just too easy." I could almost have put my
finger on the moment he suddenly got serious. "I haven't talked to you
in days." 

"You're talking to me now," I parried, aware that it was a while since
we'd had a real private conversation.  

"You know what I mean. Your friends are always getting in the way." 

"They're not 'in the way'," I defended. "I like having them around. I
feel safer with them here." 

"Yeah, I know you do." Definate grimness in the statement. I elbowed
him again, trying to lighten the mood.  

"C'mon. You like having them around too, right? They're keeping us
company, Ebony's got someone to play with..." 

"They're all right," he grumbled. Fortunately the annoyance in his
voice was only to mock me. He shook his head, squeezing me in a hug.  
  

When we got home Dana and Fox were asleep together on the sofa, her
head in his lap, he bent over her like some sort of human shield. He'd
wake up with a sore neck. 
I left them there for the moment, checking on the kids upstairs. Ebony
was asleep, all tucked in. I felt a pang of guilt. Dana must have
tucked her in. When was the last time I'd put Ebony to bed? When was
the last time I'd spoken more than two words to the child? I'd been far
too wrapped up in my own crisis', too worried about the child that was
coming to pay any attention to the one that was already there. And she
needed as much attention as she could get. What sort of a mother was
I?  
Not wanting to really consider the question, I quickly moved on to
check Erin and Astrid, both of who were sleeping soundly in Astrid's
bed. Astrid always seemed to need somebody close, even when she slept.
I didn't know how she could stand it. I'd suffocate. 
There was still a light on in Josh's room, which surprised me; it was
past eleven. He was in bed, reading. That didnt surprise me so much. 

"Hey, baby, past your bedtime," I called gently. 

He looked up at me sharply, then smiled sheepishly. "Almost finished,"
he offered by way of explanation. He held up the book - Charles
Dickens' 'Nicholas Nickleby'. He had maybe ten pages left. 

I nodded. He was quickly absorbed in his book again so I wished him a
quiet good night and backed out of the room, easing the door shut after
me. I could see light spilling out from under the door so I switched on
the hall light, brighter than Joshie's. I didn't want him getting
caught by Dana and Fox on their way up to bed.  

But when I went downstairs to wake them I just couldn't do it. They'd
shifted a little, sleeping entwined, and there was a tranquility I just
couldn't bear to destroy. I flipped off the TV and all the downstairs
lights, and I left them in their peace. 
  

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

- SCULLY POV -  

There was a steady trail of ants, marching along the branch. I hadn't
realised and had put my hand there for a moment, only to end up with
half a dozen of the tiny creatures crawling wildly over my skin. I
shook my hand, brushing the remaining ants off, rocking and almost
falling out. Not a good start to what I'd hoped would be a time of
solitude. 
I was lying in the hammock under the magnolia tree in the back yard. It
was a good spot for that time of day - late morning - because the sun
was still gently warm. I had a book open in my lap but I wasn't
reading. My eyes were closed. My mind was half a day away, still
reflecting on my conversation with Mulder the night before.   
"I'm not at full strength," I'd told him, the first opportunity I'd had
for honesty beyond tears for a while. "I haven't been since the Sabrina
incident. Or maybe even when you were shot. And everything since has
been wearing us both down; this case, Samantha, the suspension..."  

"It's all taken a toll," had been his summation. 

I needed a chance to recover, I'd told him, simply enough. I was
running on empty. I needed to know that I could get through the day
ahead of me without having to deal with tears, without pain. I'd
thought somehow that coming to Australia would help that, but instead
there was only more tears, more fear, more suffering.  

"You wanna go home?" he'd asked. And that was a hard question to answer
because, yes, I did want to go home. But I couldn't leave Jacqueline so
scared. She needed me. 

"There's still another month til her baby's born," he'd reminded me.
"We've got to be back at work in two weeks." 

I'd shrugged. "We'll wait and see, just a while longer." I expected he
would argue that decision but instead he nodded, and then he'd
surprised me by hugging me closer to him. Not the desperate, cloying
clutch of late but a more playful, comfortably affectionate hug.  

"Mommy?" 

I opened my eyes and turned my head cautiously, shielding my eyes
against the sun. "What is it, Josh?" 

"What are you doing out here?" 

"I just needed some quiet time." I smiled at him gently. He nodded and
started to turn away but I beckoned him closer. "Come sit with me,
sweetie." 

It had been too long since I'd talked with Josh one-on-one. I swung
sideways in the hammock and steadied it while he climbed up beside me.
It swung wildly and I hung onto him as it steadied. He giggled,
snuggling against me. I cuddled him, trying to recall the last time I
had held him.  

I didn't know where to begin, so I asked, "What's up?" 

"I taught Erin to say my name. Well, she can say the end, anyway.
'sh'." Before I had time to praise the effort he threw a question at
me. "Why are you so unhappy?" 

I was surprised by the question, mostly out of the fact that I'd
assumed Josh knew why. He usually did. 
"Daddy and Jacqueline - and even you two - are going through a hard
time. I'm picking up the pieces." 

"Holding it all together, you mean." He paused, looking up at me.
"You're just as hurt by this as Duckie is." 

"But she's worried about her baby, too," I reminded him. 

"Still," he argued quietly, frowning, "It's not fair of her and Daddy
to expect so much of you." 

"No, it's not fair," I agreed. "But I have to help them." 

"Even if they're not helping you?" 

"They're trying. We're all trying." 

He seemed dissatisfied with my answer. "What are you going to do?" 

"I don't know, kiddo." Stop grieving about Samantha? But how? Somehow
solitude no longer seemed like a good idea. I was thinking far too
much. "Just try to enjoy ourselves, I guess." 

"How?" 

I shrugged. He wriggled out of my grip and slid off the hammock, making
his way back into the house. Two minutes later Astrid came traipsing
out, followed by Ebony and Josh with Erin. He put her down on the grass
and she ran toward me. I swung her up onto my lap, kissing her hello.
She beamed at me.  
Josh and Astrid started shooting basketball - Mulder had found a ring
in the garage and tied it up low enough for the kids. Ebony was hanging
back as usual, but it didn't seem to take as much cajoling to get her
to join in. She *wanted* to play with them, I realised suddenly. She
waited for Josh to toss her the ball and carefully threw it skyward,
and although she missed the ring every time by at least a foot, she
didn't give up and run away. She just continued to stand there,
watching Josh and Astrid as they wrestled each other for the ball,
waiting for her turn, trusting that somebody would eventually think of
her. 
Mulder came out to join them, grinning as he complained that the ring
was too low, teasing Astrid, joking with them. It was such a relief to
watch, to see him light-hearted and having fun. I lay back in the
hammock with Erin straddling my stomach. She giggled, poking me, and I
tickled her, hugging her against me, covering her with kisses in the
way Astrid always did. She laughed, giving me her beautiful grin.  

She eventually got sick of me and tried to climb down. I lowered her to
the grass, watching as she ran over to Astrid. How did she tell the
difference between Astrid and Ebony? I wondered suddenly. I lay back
with eyes closed, trying to relax as I considered the point. I hardly
got the chance. Two minutes later Mulder tipped me out of the hammock,
straddled me as I lay on the grass, and kissed me. His was only a
playful kiss but I gave him a longer one in return, revelling in the
moment. No tears, no grief, no misery. He was stroking my face with the
back of his fingers as he kissed me, his lips soft and full. I was
finally getting the tender care I'd craved the past week. 
We lay on the grass for five, maybe ten minutes, kissing, touching.
Nothing R-rated, just comfortable, affectionate. It was exactly what I
needed. Then he pulled away, grinning sheepishly, and pulled me
upright. 

"Morning tea!" Jacqueline announced, putting a tray down on the back
table. I recognised the scones from yesterday and smiled when I saw
Astrid eagerly lathering jam and whipped cream over one. Jacqui caught
my eye and half-shrugged, grinning.  
Restoration. 
  

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

- MULDER POV - 

The sun was setting behind us as we arrived at the beach. We'd followed
a winding road along the coast and the kids had been excited from the
moment they first saw the ocean, opening the car windows to smell the
salty sea air. The sand was coarse grains but soft under our bare feet,
the breeze off the water was chilly, the roar of the waves constant. It
was the first time Erin had seen sand and I let her down to examine it
as I helped Graham spread out a large picnic rug. Erin climbed onto it
immediately, her mouth and chin soon suspiciously sandy. She spat out a
gob of wet sand and began to cry. I pulled her onto my lap, kissing the
top of her head, loving that I had the power to comfort.  
Scully was helping Jacqueline calm Ebony, who had been bitten by an
insect of some sort and was scratching madly. Graham was trying to
light a hurricane lamp he'd dug out of the trunk of the car. Josh and
Astrid had run down to the water's edge, thirty yards away, and were
playing at the edge of the water. Astrid's delighted shrieks carried up
to us, the laughing as they wrestled, their playfully rhyming
arguments.  

Somebody had foreseen to make the kids roll their pants legs to just
below their knees, but when they threw themselves down on the sand by
the rug, panting, I could see that their pants were wet right up to the
knees, a little above for Josh. Scully scolded them gently, reminding
them that it was winter - and with such a cold breeze off the water I
wondered that it wasn't obvious - and that they'd freeze if they got
wet. They both rubbed off with a towel but after a few minutes they
exchanged teeth-chattering grins. I took them off to play soccer and
then we spent ten minutes waiting for the tide to return to us the
soccerball Josh had kicked right into the water.  

When we returned it was to a feast. Graham and Ebony had gone to the
corner store only a few feet from the car and returned with
batter-covered fish, an enormous bag of hot chips and several bottles
of Coke and 7Up. Scully was sitting near Jacqueline but I pulled her
closer to me, giving us some space from Graham and Jacqueline.  

It was really too cold a night to be out on the water and Scully and I
snuggled up close. Erin and Josh were playing chasings around the rug
and Erin eventually deviated from the course, throwing herself in my
lap, giggling. She took the fry I fed her and giggled again, rolling
off my lap and chasing after Josh again.  
"She's such a beautiful baby," Scully murmured with satisfaction. And
she was right; Erin was always cracking into a wide grin, giggling,
hugging. She had love for everyone, and she was clever, too. "Clever
cookie," was what Astrid called her. She was always curious, always
investigating. And her antics were endlessly endearing. She would pick
up a TV remote and hold it up to her ear, speaking into it. It had
taken us a while to realise that she was having a phone conversation -
soon enough she was beginning each 'call' with "Hiiiiiiii?" and
finishing with "Bye-bye." I don't know where she could have picked
*that* up. 

Scully and I were both tired - she was almost asleep against me as I
fed her hot chips one by one. We played footsies on the sandy rug,
shared a few lazy kisses. She was halfway to the moon, I thought.  
Still, only a few minutes later she dragged herself up and said she
wanted to go for a walk to see what was further along the beach. To our
right the headland was dotted with the lights of houses and
restaurants, to our left a dark stretch of beach and water gleaming
like oil in the moonlight. 

The beach was nearly deserted; only a few lone fishermen scattered
along the shore reassured us that there were still other people left in
the world. We left Graham behind with Ebony, who had been falling
asleep.  
The sand was loosely packed under our feet and after a while every step
was an effort, my calf muscles soon aching. We walked maybe two hundred
metres up the beach and came to a deadend, water flowing inland, deep
and wide. We took a moment but there was nothing much to see or do and
the kids were starting to get silly, wrestling each other. Josh
accidently elbowed Astrid in the face and a scuffle broke out between
them. Deliberately ignoring their whining, we turned to head back,
choosing to walk on the wet sand closer to the shore. Within minutes
their fight was forgotten - as all squabbles between them were - and
they were dancing along the edge of the water, splashing a little,
giggling. Erin was falling asleep, face buried in Scully's breast.
Jacqueline was keeping up with us but with an effort and admitted
sheepishly to being tired.  
If that were Scully, or even Samantha,I thought to myself, I'd pick her
up and carry her. And so I swung Jacqueline up into my arms - she was
only a little heavier than Scully, somehow - and carried her the last
hundred metres back to the picnic rug. Graham came racing toward us, as
if afraid something had happened. "I'm fine," Jacqueline quickly
reassured him, shooing him back as I lowered her to the ground. "Don't
get your knickers in a knot." 

That seemed to signal the end of the evening. We started to pack up,
Ebony was woken, and the eight of us trekked back up to the car, off
the sand onto the worn, sandy wooden planks, past the grasshills and
tall connifers. We stood around the car, trying to de-sand ourselves as
well as possible in the fluorescent light from a parking lot streetlamp
above. 

It was only half an hour drive back but on reaching home only Erin was
still awake; Josh, Astrid, Ebony - and even Jacqueline - had fallen
asleep. Parking in the garage, Graham went to switch off the alarm
before returning to the car. I thought he'd wake Jacqueline and carry
Ebony, or wake both of them, but he surprised me by lifting Jacqueline
out of the car, carrying her in.  
Astrid woke and sleepily insisted on taking Erin in for us. Scully
hesitated for a moment, remembering Ebony's dislike of touch, and then
shook the girl gently. Ebony didn't stir. Giving me an apprehensive
shrug, Scully reached into the car to awkwardly lift Ebony out. "See
you inside," she said, leaving me to bring the sleeping Josh in.  
I unbuckled him, noting that his right fist was clenched. Curiously, I
eased his fingers open. He was holding a handful of sand.  

I folded his finger closed again over the sand, allowing him his
fragment of time, his evidence, and I carried him inside. He woke as I
put him down, and a wariness crossed his face as he tightened his fist,
remembering what he held. I offered him a small, clear vial I'd grabbed
on the way up, watching as he carefully emptied his handful into it.
Several grains of sand fell on his bedcovers and he dusted them off
carefully. I took the filled vial from him and put it down carefully on
his bedside table. He nodded thanks, and reached for the pajamas
jumbled at the end of the bed, waiting for me to leave before changing.
I didn't know much about children's behaviour but I felt this level of
selfconsciousness wasn't natural to six year olds.  

"Night, buddy." 

He smiled, a guarded smile, even a little distracted, as if a poem or
story were swirling in his head. "Night, Daddy." 

And then he surprised me by reaching for a hug. Josh was still wary of
hugs, other than Erin's, that was. But now he held onto me with
surprising certainty and comfort. Father and son. I hadn't contemplated
that concept for a long time, if ever. And yet it had been an issue
ever since Scully and I had said "I do", since whenever it had been
that Josh - or I for that matter - realised that the relationship, the
family, might just last, and that the bond was there, acknowledged or
not.  

I wanted to say something to Josh, tell him how proud I was of him, how
important his presence was in our lives, but the words stuck in my
throat. I couldn't devote hours to making him smile and giggle like I
could Erin, or even hug and tickle him like I did Astrid. I could only
pat him on the shoulder. Goodnight, son. 

"Goodnight, Daddy," he whispered again, giving me a small smile. 

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

- ASTRID POV - 

Duckie's birthday was on Tuesday. I don't think Mommy or Daddy knew
that. Graham definately didn't. Duckie hadn't forgotten though, had
she? I wondered why she didn't say anything - she was turning
twenty-one, after all. It was supposed to be a big deal.  

They - Duckie, Mommy and Daddy - were talking about us going away
overnight. I sat on the floor with Erin and a bucket of clothespegs.
She was playing with them, picking them up one by one and handing them
to me to peg somewhere, sometimes pointing where she wanted them. I put
one in my hair and then she wanted one in hers, then another in mine
and another in hers. I was talking to her but listening to Duckie and
Mommy at the same time, wanting to know what was going on. 

"Beautiful views," Duckie was saying. "Bushwalking, canoeing,
wildlife... You can handfeed the rainbow lorikeets and sometimes a
cockatoo or galah will come close, too. And sometimes the wallabies
come down. It's the wrong season for joeys, now, of course..." 

Mommy said something about not wanting to leave Duckie but Duckie
sounded pretty insistent. "Go! You've got to see Australia while you're
here! I've got another whole month. I won't have you stuck here because
of me." 
  

And so, we went. It was a holiday house that belonged to Graham's
parents, on a place called Scotland Island, in Pittwater. It wasn't the
sort of island I'd expected - not really beachy, just bushy with little
bits of sand and piers and wharfs. Graham drove us all out and we had
to get a ferry across. The water didn't smell as salty as it had at the
beach and it was cold out on the little bit of deck so I went inside to
sit with Daddy and Erin, who were minding all our stuff. Daddy didn't
like being on the water. 

Graham's parents' house was a pretty normal sort of house, except it
was made of timber instead of brick and had a big patio sort of thing.
It didn't look very big but was still bigger than our old apartment,
and all cottagey, with terracotta tiles and needlework and painted
dough wreaths up on the walls and frilly curtains and bear-shaped
cookie jars. It was near the water and we had our own jetty and
boathouse. I peered through the cobwebby windows and could see a canoe
and paddles and bright red and yellow lifejackets in there.  
Mommy and Daddy said no to us going canoeing - right then, at least.
They said we'd all have a rest and then go for a bushwalk before it got
dark. It was two in the afternoon but they were right, cos it started
getting early, sometimes just past five, or sooner if there was going
to be a storm. 

Josh and I went out onto the patio to see if there were any birds to
feed. There were a couple in the trees around the house but they
wouldn't come closer, no matter how clever we tried to be with bread
trails. 
I dragged one of the picnic benches closer to the patio railing so that
I could kneel on it, resting my arms on the railing and my chin on my
arms and gazing out ahead. Even though we were near the water it was a
pretty steep walk up to the house and the water seemed pretty far below
me, stretching out. The was another island - wait, Josh said it was a
peninsula - that was across the water, so the water in front of us
looked kinda like a river or bay more than the ocean. It was pretty
though, all different shades of blue, depending on how deep the water
was.  

After Mommy and Daddy had unpacked and had a rest we packed some drink
bottles and some jellybeans and corncakes (Daddy complained about us
being high maintenance, but he was only kidding) and Daddy's camera,
because I wanted to use it. Mommy had given Josh the maps to figure out
where we were going so he led the way up the hill. First we just had to
get past all the houses - they were two or three high up the side of
the hill - and then we followed a wide firetrail for a bit before
getting onto a thin path that twisted and turned. The ground under us
was kinda sandy, most of the trees around us were gumtrees, though
there were some ferny sort of things along the ground. We were only
going for about ten minutes before we stopped. The path went two ways
and Josh's map didn't tell us very clearly which way to go. There was
only one way to find out, I figured, and I headed off to the left,
scrabbling over a rock and pushing through some brush. A lot of the
bushes were itchy and the rocks were slippery with fallen leaves and
gumnuts. I slipped a little and grazed the side of my hand on a
boulder. Owwwwwww. 

"Astrid!" Daddy shouted my name and I thought for a panicked second
that maybe a huge spider was about to jump on me, or a snake was about
to bite me, or even maybe I was about to lose my balance and fall
hundreds of meters to my death. But I looked around and all I could see
wrong was Daddy crashing through the bushes, yelling my name.  

He saw me and grabbed me, hugging me so tightly that I couldn't
breathe. Then he grabbed my shoulders, pushing me back so he could
looked at me. He was furious. 
"What the hell did you think you were doing?" he demanded.  

"I was just trying to find the right way -" 

"Don't ever run off like that again!" he shouted. His eyes were so
dark, hard and gentle at the same time. "I could have lost you!" 

I didn't know what to say, except "I'm sorry." 

He grabbed my hand, checking it over. "You hurt yourself." 

I shook my head, then nodded. "I'm okay." I didn't like it when he
acted so crazy. I couldn't look at him like Josh did, observe and
analyse. It only confused me and made me want to cry. 
He picked me up, hugging me against him again. Mommy and Josh were
standing a few feet away, watching. Even Erin, in the pack on Mommy's
pack, stared. From the way they were frowning I knew they'd seen the
whole thing. 

Still holding on to Daddy with one hand, I lifted the other in a shrug,
gazing at Mommy over Daddy's shoulder, returning her look of concern.
Josh looked as worried as Mommy did and I knew why. There was so much
unhappiness and fear that still wouldn't go away, and we would never be
Daddy's saviour from it, only add to his vulnerabilty to its
all-reaching power. 

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

- SCULLY POV - 

We hiked up to the top and sat for a while, but Mulder's panic earlier
had subdued us all. He looked a little ashamed and was defensive to
every question. He wouldn't meet my eyes for more than a fleeting
second. 
We made our way back down again, Erin in the pack on Mulder's back this
time. We'd promised the kids a dinner of homemade pizza and they'd been
excited, but when Mulder disappeared into our bedroom and stayed there
neither of them said a word.  

I put off confronting him for almost forty minutes, changing Erin's
diaper and giving her a bottle, supervising the kids as they spread
tomato paste on the pizza bases and started preparing the ingredients
we'd brought up with us. Finally Josh nudged me and I knew the
inevitable couldn't be postponed any longer. I dried my hands on the
dishtowel and put it down, smoothing my hair and taking a deep breath
as if I were about to enter a meeting with superiors. 
  

The main bedroom was large and done in the same cottage style as the
rest of the place. Mulder sat at the window, the windowseat quilted
teddybear patches, the curtains floral print edged with lace. As homey
a place as I'd ever seen, and Mulder somehow made it look as gloomy and
cold as a penitentiary. 

I didn't want to initiate the conversation - or argument, as I already
knew it would be. But I didn't need to. He heard my footsteps and
turned to face me, chin resting on folded hands, staring at me with
haunted eyes. His hair was getting long again and hung down over his
face. He looked very childlike as he sat there. I shook my head very
slowly. 

"No." I'm not going through any more of this. 

"It's not my choice, Scully," he said helplessly. "If I could shake
this feeling, I would. It's not for lack of trying..." 

"Letting yourself sit in a dark room doesn't make it easier, Mulder.
You've got to stop brooding. Let it go. Let *her* go." 

"I have." 

"No, you haven't; not completely. Because you don't want to. You want
to feel the pain because you think you deserve it. You think it's your
punishment." 

A dull, wary curiosity entered his eyes. "My punishment for what?" 

"For being helpless when your sister was taken, for when I was taken,
for everything. It's time to stop claiming guilt for everything,
Mulder. The world isn't fair. That's a fact. And not everything is your
responsibility or your fault." 

"Some things are," he objected. 

"But not *everything*. And the things that you *do* do wrong... Mulder,
everybody makes mistakes. It's a fact of life. We make a mistake,
sometimes we're forgiven, sometimes we're not. We've got to move on,
regardless." 

He shook his head, frustrated, impatient. I moved closer, touching his
back. "Go help the kids make dinner." 

He started to shake his head again but I stopped him. "Go. Being in
here by yourself is only making things worse." 

"Fine." He shrugged and brushed past me, leaving the bedroom. I
listened to the voices that floated through from the kitchen. Astrid
was instructing him how much cheese to put on her pizza, how evenly to
sprinkle the tinned pineapple pieces. Then Josh said something
unintelligible and Mulder chuckled. It sounded forced but it was still
an improvement on the brooding. 

I took a few minutes in the bedroom, trying to summon up the energy to
face whatever came next. My reserves were running out quickly and I
needed a reprieve. Fortunately, I got it. They were putting the pizzas
in the oven - which they'd forgotten to preheat, and Mulder was playing
some silly game with Erin, holding her hands as she danced in her funny
way on the kitchen table. Then he swept her up, flying her around the
room and landing her on my back.  

"Welcome to Momville, USA," he announced. "Home of plenty of love and
the occasional scolding." 

I glanced at him, a little apprehensive, but he was smiling. It was by
no means a complete or joyous smile; I wouldn't have even called it
content. It was tense and awkward. But it was an effort, and there was
a glimmer of hope in it. 
  

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

- MULDER POV - 

I'd missed cuddling Scully. It was my fault, not hers, that I'd been so
untouchable, but we'd both suffered from it. That was why as we waited
for the pizzas to cook I pulled her against me, running my hands down
her sides, reacquainting myself with her body, burrowing against her as
if just the touch of her flesh or clothes was a balm to my mind. 
Before the kids could do their usual disappearing trick - they always
knew what was going on and were always so damn tactful about it - I
hustled Scully off to the bedroom.  

Like the other day we didn't go very far, just kissed a little, touched
a little, held on to each other. I still felt weary, but her words from
before had brought me a little peace and I wanted to share it with her.
I owed her that much. 

She almost fell asleep as she lay against me, her head on my chest, my
hand on her back. I was wearing her out, wearing her down. Why was I
making things so hard? Why did everything have such an impact on us,
that everything we did only eroded the foundations further? 

"We're too *close*," I realised, too stunned by the simplicity of the
idea to notice I'd spoken aloud.  

She stirred, the hand on my chest sliding up to grasp my shoulder,
massaging gently. "It's a fine line, Mulder. We've been treading it for
years. It's inevitable that we overstep it once in a while." 

She was right, she had seen it. How had I not? 

"You should have warned me," I murmured, a little irritated. 

"I didn't need to. You knew." 

And again, she was probably right. It wasn't an easy thing to define. 

I ran my fingers over her face, wanting her, thinking - irrationally -
that if I could lose myself in her then maybe it would all be over.  
She pushed me away gently. "Not now. For now we just hold each other." 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

The day dawned surprisingly warm. We slept late and found the kids had
already breakfasted on the remains of last night's dinner. I skipped
the meal myself; my stomach felt knotted and I had only a large glass
of water, trying to purge my system.  
We were pulled down to the wharf by the kids, who had found the keys
and already unlocked the boathouse, dragging the canoe into view. 
"Can we go?" Astrid pleaded. 

It was only a two-man canoe, with two one-ended oars. I'd already
resolved to let them go and surprised Astrid by agreeing immediately.
Mulder and I had discussed it - in light of his recent paranoid,
over-protective behaviour it had been quite a battle to talk him into
it, let him trust the kids to be safe. We couldn't keep them by our
sides every moment of the day, forever. 

The sun was strong and I made both kids wear hats, rubbing a little
sunscreen on their faces just out of caution. We zipped and buckled
their lifejackets on. It was an amusing sight, the lifejackets too
large for them, giving them the broad shoulders of a footballer.  
They were both barefoot, and Mulder was too, his jeanslegs rolled up as
he helped them tug the canoe onto the seaweedy strip of sand
masquerading as beach, and into the water, holding it steady for them
as they climbed in.  

He joined me, sitting on the edge of the worn planking of the wharf,
sliding an arm around my waist as we watched the kids paddle off, at
first having a hard time keeping in a straight line but eventually
sorting themselves out. They were canoeing along close to the
shoreline, then maybe trying for a bay across the water if they felt
confident enough. Mulder had stressed not to push themselves, to turn
back if something went wrong, get as close as they could to the shore.
It wasn't entirely paranoia - I was a little anxious myself. But  they
could swim, if necessary. And Astrid had done a course in first aid and
taught most of it to Josh. Even if something did happen, they could
handle it. 

We sat in the sun for a while, then I heard a cry from Erin. We'd left
her in the playpen, not wanting to bring her out on the water. She'd
been sneezing a little earlier. 

I was on my way up to the house when I felt the almost crippling pain
in my side. I clenched my teeth, and for a moment my mind spun. Then I
regained control, shook myself a little, gripping the stairs handrail
and starting up the steps.  

Mulder was coming up behind me. I felt his hand on my back. "Hey, you
okay?" 

I nodded, not having a reassuring answer for him, still trying to
figure out for myself what that had been. Erin was still crying and I
picked up my pace, almost running when I reached the top. 
She was on her back, kicking almost helplessly, rubbing at her eyes,
tears and snot streaming down her red face.  

I picked her up, rocking with her, trying to soothe her. Mulder offered
a tissue and I took it, trying to clean Erin up a little. She quietened
down soon enough, but she seemed tired, burying her face against me,
restless. Was she unwell? I checked her forehead with the back of my
hand and she seemed a little hot, but I had no real way of verifying
the fever. We'd had to pack light and I hadn't brought the digital
thermometer. 

I winced, gritting my teeth as the pain surged through my side again,
almost doubling over with its ferocity. It lessened quickly and I
managed to straighten, sucking in a deep breath. Mulder, in front of
the TV scanning for sport coverage, didn't notice. Erin started to cry
again. 

I passed her off to him and she lay limply in the crook of his arm,
gazing at the TV with complete disinterest. Was it something we'd
eaten, maybe? But only Erin and I seemed affected.  

I was going to take some Advil but realised I hadn't packed it, either,
so instead I curled up in the armchair, hoping it would go away. As
Mulder flipped past Ricki Lake it cut to commercial break and I
recognised immediately the movie being advertised - "Planet of the
Apes" would be the midday movie, starting in ten minutes.  

There was no question about whether we'd watch it or not. It was one of
Mulder's favourite movies, and even I had to admit to being a fan.
Still, I was a little disappointed. I'd hoped that we'd be able to
spend the time while the kids were out more productively. 

Needing to do something before the movie started, I went to the fridge
and pulled out the loaf of bread and cheese we'd packed, as well as the
leftover ham from the pizzas. It would be a while before the kids were
back, but I might as well put sandwiches together for lunch while I had
time. 

My right side was aching dully as I made the sandwiches but I
steadfastly ignored the pain, only gritting my teeth as it seared. I
put the plate in the refridgerator and took a second to realise that
the pain had faded again. Steadying myself, I returned to my armchair,
curling up again. Ricki Lake was finishing and Mulder glanced across at
me. "You okay?" 

"Fine." 

He frowned. "You just look a little white." 

I shook my head. I didn't want to panic him unnecessarily. 

I tried to watch as the movie began, but only a few minutes later I
excused myself, locking myself in the bathroom. Ten seconds later, with
clammy, shaky fingers, I eased open the bathroom door a little.
"Mulder?" 

He yelled back to me without even looking around. "Yeah?" 

"Can you get me something?" 

This time he got up, as if sensing the panic in my voice. How much more
complicated were things going to get?  

He stared at me quizzically. "What's wrong?" 

"There's a small box of tampons tucked in one of the side pockets of my
overnight bag. Could you get them for me?" 

He nodded, going to fetch and returning to proffer the box. There was
deliberation in his eyes as he frowned, as if uncertain whether this
were too personal an issue to address. "You had your period barely a
week ago." 

Ten days ago, give or take. "I know," I agreed tightly, taking the box
from him and pushing the door closed. But he caught it.  

"Is there something wrong? Should you call somebody? Call Jacqueline,
maybe?" 

"No." I gazed at him levelly. "It's fine. It's just stress or
something. These things happen." 

He still hovered, hand in the doorway, and I eased his grip loose,
shutting the door after him. I shouldn't let him make such a big deal
of it. It had been years since my cycle had been really regular, and
with all the angst lately it was inevitable.  

When I returned he was back in front of the TV, Erin half burying
herself under the flaps at the edge of the couch. I climbed onto the
couch beside Mulder, wiggling up so that we lay side by side. He put
his arm around me, matter of fact. He was muttering the lines of the
movie under his breath, but I couldn't focus on the TV. I felt
heavy-headed, sick at heart. I heard the kids' voices outside and they
came tumbling in, both dripping wet. "Josh capsized us!" Astrid
announced. 

I dragged myself up, telling them to get in the bathroom quickly before
they dripped on the carpet. I stripped Josh's wet clothes off and put
him in the shower, then led Astrid down to the master ensuite. There
was both spa bath and shower in the ensuite but I denied her cajoling
requests to use the spa.  
They only had the jeans they'd been wearing - the kids getting wet to
the bone hadn't been in my mind when I'd packed for the overnight stay,
keeping in mind Jacqueline's reminders of packing as light as possible
because we had to carry it all. I grabbed their pajamas and underwear
and long-sleeved jerseys from yesterday, leaving them in respective
bathrooms, gathering up the discarded wet clothes and heading into the
laundry. There was no dryer, only a washer, and I wrung the clothes out
as best I could before putting them in for a spin cycle.  

The ache in my side was back as I returned to Mulder and as I dropped
down beside him I drew his arm around me, putting his hand on my side
as if his touch would heal. 

"You sure you're okay?" he murmured, glancing up at me. His hair was in
his eyes again. 

"I'm fine," I told him. He nodded, taking my hand and kissing the
knuckles, still gazing up at me, almost coyly despite his frown.  

"Wanna warn me of anything else that can go wrong?" His tone was
playful, ironic. 

I gave him as much of a smile as I could, but felt oddly calmed, almost
relaxed as we settled down together. Somehow, despite the anxiety and
chaos, I was *okay*. Not great, but I'd live through another day, and
lately even that had seemed impossible at times. 

I wanted to tell him that everything would be fine, try to meet some
sort of agreement that we'd just keep things simple, that we wouldn't
let ourselves be unhappy anymore. But how did we do that? Mulder was
right - it wasn't as if we had a choice. If we had a choice about it
all, we wouldn't be feeling the pain. But, if we couldn't prevent it or
keep from being hurt by it, could we at least figure out a way to cope
with it, to transcend it? 

"Let's just keep it simple," was all I could say, and while it was only
a beginning, it was more than we had had before. 

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

- JACQUELINE POV - 

Astrid had told Fox and Dana and Grae that it was my birthday. It could
only have been her - she and Josh were the only ones who could have
known it, and I wasn't sure if Josh would even remember.  
In the past few years I'd managed to avoid acknowledging the date
except on legal documents; Fox and Dana were too busy with their own
lives to realise that I never celebrated it, and that was perfectly
acceptable. I didn't even mind that Grae hadn't known it - after all,
we'd only known each other for a year and a half. On my last birthday
we'd still only been in the semi-serious stage.  
While twenty-first birthdays are usually, I gather, important landmarks
in a young person's life, mine passed quietly. I got a few gifts, which
was the part that really shook me, because I'd never received birthday
presents before. Grae, of course, had been lavishing luxuries upon me
for months now, and this was no exception. He bought me a new watch, a
gorgeous little piece with diamonds embedded in the silver clockface
and band, as well as two dozen red roses.  
The kids filled my bedroom with balloons and streamers, and Dana and
Fox bought me a star. My very own piece of the heavens. I was stunned
by the gift, because it was so very *them*, and I felt such an
acceptance with such a personal gif. Fox had given Dana a star for her
birthday two years ago. That he was willing to give me a similar gift
spoke of some sort of forgiveness I was more than willing to accept. 

Fox was bestowing almost as much attention on me as he did Dana. I
thought at first maybe it was because it was my birthday, but the next
day and the day after that he was still being kind, telling me jokes
and stories over games of chess, offering help. It was such a relief,
so comforting, so wonderful just that he wasn't hating any me more,
that I probably encouraged him a little too much. I'm not sure what
Dana thought; she seemed satisfied at the peace between us, but at
times I caught the wistful jealousy in her eyes. I was ever watchful to
keep off her territory, to push Fox away if he were hanging around me
too long, to invite her over to join the conversations we had. It was
difficult to strike a balance, with the kids needing varying degrees of
attention. And Graham only complicated things further. I could see the
suspicion in the way he looked at us; his gaze lacked the trust that
Dana's had, and no matter how I worked to include him, pair him and I
together, Fox and Dana together, I felt irrationally that somehow I
were cheating and that he saw through to that. 

It didn't take him long to accuse me. I'd expected as much; things
could only simmer inside him so long before he burst. 
Dana and Fox had taken the kids down to the cornerstore and Grae seized
the opportunity to buttonhole me. "What the hell's going on, Jacqui?"  

"Nothing's going on." 

"*Something* is going on between you and Mulder. He's been hanging off
you like a leech for days now. What's going on?" 

"Nothing's going on!" I repeated, more defensive. "He's just dealing
with me better, okay? He's forgiven me, accepted me..." 

"Don't give me that bullshit." 

I rolled my eyes in frustration. Of course, he wouldn't believe me. He
never did, when it mattered. He didn't trust me. "Look at me! I'm the
size of a house! What man in his right mind would leave his wife for
me? And FOX? Don't you know by now how much he loves Dana? He'd lay
down his life for her and she knows it. Trust is everything to them.
Trust and loyalty. He would never cheat on her, he wouldn't even
conceive of the idea." 

"You talk about him as if he's a bloody saint." 

"He's not perfect. I know his faults, Dana's faults, mine, yours...
We're all flawed and I can see that. I'm not blind. And my one of my
faults might be that I can't mind my own business, that I do the wrong
things by people, that I unintenionally manipulate them, that I have
secrets and tell stupid lies, but your biggest fault, Grae, is that you
don't trust people. You don't trust Dana or Fox and even the kids and
you don't trust *me*." 

He scowled. "I've seen you two together, Jacqui. I saw him carrying you
at the beach, I saw on when you were on the couch the other day and he
had his arm around you, when he hugged you -" 

"What, any you're the only one in the world allowed to hug me, carry me
if I get tired? Not even somebody who is like a father to me?" I looked
at him, pleading for him to understand. "Please don't begrudge me Fox
and Dana. They're the closest I've ever had to parents. He's my uncle,
flesh and blood. You won't let me have even that?" 

He stared at me, then shrugged, moving closer to take me into his arms.
But I couldn't stand being held right then and pushed him away. It was
a bad thing to do right then, because dark suspicion crossed his face
again.  
"Don't," I said, before he could speak. "Don't doubt me." 

He shrugged again, then turned as if to walk off. But I reached out to
stop him, pulling him around to face me again. "I know I confuse you,
that you think I just keep tangling myself up, that I'm just a kid. And
you're probably right, but ... God, I just need you to love me anyway,
trust me anyway." 

He gestured wearily. "Whatever, Jacqueline." He pulled away from me
again and this time I let him go, watching as he went out, childishly
slamming the door shut after him.  

"Whatever," I muttered to myself, echoing not only the word but the
sentiment behind it. I didn't have any more energy to waste on our
relationship right then. He could do anything he wanted. I was tired. 

I went upstairs and lay down, putting my Wendy Matthews CD on, letting
it play at random rather than just repeating the one particular track
that had been in my mind for weeks now, a depressing song ironically
titled 'Happy'.  
"Then I walked away, and it felt so good," she declared, guitar and
drums keeping the rhythm in the background. 

"Bullshit," I muttered, thinking of Grae. I rolled onto my side,
hugging a pillow against me, burying my face in it, hoping to get to
sleep and escape it all. But my mind wouldn't shut down.  

I had to get rid of Fox and Dana, I thought tiredly. Get them out of
the way for Grae to cool off, let he and I have some time, Dana and Fox
have some time. But I didn't want them to go back to the US, not yet.
If possible, I wanted to talk Dana into sticking around til the baby
was born. It wouldn't be easy to convince them to stick around that
long and it would be completely selfish, unfair on them, but I couldn't
conceive of going through it without Dana - and even Fox - there with
me.  
  

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

- ASTRID POV - 

My ears were hurting. I had the windowseat and not only did Josh and I
have a boring plain wall in front of us, but the air pressure was
terrible and my ears hurt. Still, we were only an hour away from
Sydney, and when we got home I'd finally be able to fall asleep. 

Josh had fallen asleep despite the pressure and was all curled up in
his seat. Mom and Dad in the row behind us were asleep too, and Erin in
Daddy's lap. I felt kinda left out, wished I could fall asleep as
easily as the rest of them, but my ears were hurting and now my head
was starting to ache as well. It was stuffy on the plane, though it was
warm, at least. 
  

Duckie was waiting at the airport for us. How could she get so much
bigger in just a week? Mommy commented and Duckie laughed and said that
she had trouble even fitting behind the car steering wheel. 
She asked how our trip was and if we weren't all so sleepy - it was
almost midnight already - we would have talked on and on and on. As it
was, we were all talking at once, trying to describe all that we'd seen
and done. 
"Whirlwind," Joshie said, which pretty much summed it all up. 

We talked in the car all the way home, though there was no way to tell
her and Grae everything. We'd flown down to Canberra and seen
Parliament House and the War Memorials and then to the Northern
Territory to see Uluru - though that was all we got to see there,
because we ran out of time - and then Brisbane. In and out of airports,
renting cars, booking into hostels, finding somewhere for breakfast or
lunch or dinner.  
The youth hostels were the most fun - more fun even than seeing all the
bridges and statues and historical mansions. People came from
everywhere. I played a game of chess one night in Brisbane with a man
from Sweden while Mommy and Daddy talked to some people from Ireland.
There was a man from Ohio and a family from Vancouver, as well as
people from Western Australia and Sydney and Melbourne, Singapore, and
lots from the UK. It was heaps of fun.  
Even Mommy and Daddy seemed to enjoy it. They weren't frowning so much,
and the only arguments they had were silly little ones that nobody took
seriously, about changing Erin's diapers or cleaning up the baby vomit
and which gas station to refil at and what we'd have for dinner. No
passionate arguments, though they weren't very passionate otherwise -
they were having a time-out, "keeping their distances in the interests
of keeping sane", as Duckie called it once. All five of us shared rooms
in the hostels - some had a double bed, in those that didn't Mommy and
Daddy slept separately, though one night they weren't bunk beds and so
Daddy pushed two beds together for them.  
It was a little strange sharing a room with them after such a long
time. I could hear them breathing, whispering to each other, and I
could tell when they fell asleep. I felt a bit like an intruder, like
it was their bedroom and I'd snuck in and camped out on the floor, but
at the same time it was reassuring, to know that they were only a few
feet away in the dark, and that even if they hadn't been so
touchy-feely during the day they would always sleep close to each
other, as if that were the only way that guaranteed security and good
dreams. 
  

"Sleep tight," Daddy whispered as he tucked me into bed.  

"Don't let the monsters bite," I whispered back to him, kissing him on
the nose, because it was always smooth, unlike his cheeks which got all
prickly. We both knew that our little goodnight was silly, but we said
it every night, when he was home. 

That was why he and Mommy always slept close. Because Daddy was there
to stop the monsters from biting. 

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

- MULDER POV - 

It was half-past one in the morning and Jacqueline was serving hot
chocolate. Scully and I were just about ready to crash and Jacqueline's
actions struck me as both absurd and perfectly logical under the
circumstances. 

I took my hot chocolate outside in search of solitude. Even though the
closed glass door I heard the muffled conversation from within. Graham
was talking mostly, though I heard Scully's voice occasionally. I
turned as I heard the door slide open; it was Jacqueline. 

"Mind if I join you?" 

I gestured. "Go ahead." 

"Grae's venting his frustrations at human weaknesses," she announced,
lowering herself down beside me. I gave her a hand, trying to figure
out if Scully had been that big at eight months. I didn't think she
had. Of course, Erin had been a tiny baby, healthy but tiny.  

"And you've heard that sermon before?" 

"At *least* a dozen times. 'The problem in the world is weakness just
as much as stupidity.' The pressures of society on an individual, the
stupidity of intelligent people, etcetera etcetera! I hope Dana doesn't
mind being abandoned in there, but I'll scream if I hear it again." 

"I think she can handle it." After all, she dealt with Astrid's ranting
on similar themes regularly.  
I glanced over my shoulder. Scully was sitting in the armchair, feet
curled up under her, sipping from the mug she held cupped in her hands.
She was listening to him, geniunely listening, though she was also
starting to fall asleep. I'd give her five more minutes before I went
in to rescue her, I decided. 

"I miss Gerrideen every time I look up at the night sky," Jacqueline
admitted. "There's so many more stars in the country. The sky's just
littered with them, hundreds of them. Here you're lucky to see twenty."

It was still beautiful. I still loved the sky, loved the vast
possibilities it yielded. If only Scully were out here with me, I
thought suddenly. I felt a hand on my shoulder only a second later - my
wish granted. She caressed my shoulder lightly, possessive but
affectionate as well. Warmth flowed through my veins and I slid a hand
over hers, running my fingertips over every knuckle and nail. Funny
that hands that could be so powerful, wielding a scalpel or pressing a
trigger, and still so gentle, light as a feather. I turned a little,
taking her hand in mine and kissing the fingertips, blowing warm breath
on them, nibbling the tip of her thumb. She smiled, that amused but shy
smile, with all the coyness of a schoolgirl. I tugged her closer to me,
loving her, loving everything about her, from her smile right down to
every manicured fingernail. Behind us Graham and Jacqueline were
laughing softly. He lifted her up into his arms and announced he was
'putting baby to bed'. Scully and I barely glanced across as we
muttered goodnights, absorbed in each other. It's never been hard to
absorb myself in Scully; inhale her scent, listen to her breathing, and
I'm hypnotised.   
"We should get to bed," I murmured, but only tightening my grip on her,
wanting to take advantage of the brief opportunity for privacy. She was
kneeling and I pulled her onto my lap, sideways across my knees like a
child on Santa's lap. But there was nothing childlike about the way we
were soon groping. It was ridiculous. We were exhausted, jetlagged,
barely thinking straight, and here we were with the hormones of
oversexed teens.  

I would never have said Scully and I were exactly passionate people,
sexually, but as in all things we constantly swung back and forth,
sometimes nearing - if not reaching - the extreme.  
"Bed," Scully agreed, her voice heavy, husky. God, we were near
delirious. 

We pulled apart long enough to make our way inside, walking close,
Scully giggling every time we bumped against each other. I stopped
halfway up the stairs to kiss her, running my hands through her hair,
which was still mussed from the plane. She giggled. She was very
giggly. She pulled away from me, running up to the top of the stairs.
"I just want to check on Erin." 

"She'll be fine for ten minutes." 

"Only ten minutes?" She cocked an eyebrow, a devilish glint in her eye,
an innocent smile playing on her lips. 

I chuckled, vaguely aware that we shouldn't be too loud. Graham and
Jacqueline were probably still awake, and we didn't want to wake the
kids, either. 
I shrugged. "Dog time, of course." 

She grinned then, teeth showing and all. She was amused with me. 

I moved forward to pick her up, hoisting her over my shoulder like I
used to do with the kids. Scully shrieked - quietly, but a shriek
nonetheless. Shushing her, I pushed our door open, kicked it shut again
after us, and lost my balance as I tried to slide her down onto the
bedcovers. I felt my elbow connect with something hard and the two of
us ended up in a twisted pile on the floor. Scully had her hand to her
head. "Owwwwwwwwwwww," she groaned, giggles vanishing. 

I peeled her hand away, though it was dark to really see anything.
"What happened?" 

"You elbowed me, Romeo," she grumbled.  

"Sorry." I tried to pull her upright, but she shook her head, getting a
firm grip on the back of my head and drawing me closer, breathing
heavily. 

"Floor is good," she muttered, following it up with a slow, seductive
smile, her bare toes rubbing against my calf suggestively. 
  

It was a hot and heavy session. Usually when Scully and I made love it
was as sweet as it sounded. The giggles long disappeared, and this time
had been almost savage in its passion, near desperation with which her
lips tasted every inch of me, with which her fingers dug into my bare
flesh. We managed to find the presence of mind to eventually drag
ourselves into bed and only a minute later Scully was asleep. Her head
resting on my chest, I was left alone in the land of the awake to
wonder how a night with my wife had left me feeling the unwitting
victim of a one-night-stand. 

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

- JACQUELINE POV - 

He was looking at her strangely. She was sitting spooning Erin cereal
and he stood with his back to the wall, watching her with a wary sort
of curiosity. 
They'd been noisy last night. You usually knew when they were up to it
but they were never that noisy. Even at the other end of the hallway I
could hear them and I hadn't been able to get to sleep as hard as I
tried. Around two thirty I went to check on the kids. I found the light
in Astrid and Erin's room on - Astrid had taken Erin out of the cot and
was pacing with her. Erin, redfaced, was sucking on her fingers and
whimpering quietly.  
"What's the matter?"  

Astrid had shrugged, kissing Erin's forehead. "She's been crying for a
while. Wouldn't sleep, either. She does that a lot these days." 

Neither of us had made mention of Dana and Fox as I took Erin from her,
checking her over. "She's lost a little weight," I observed.  

"With all the travelling she keeps throwing up."  

She wasn't eating now, no matter how Dana tried to get her to. Dana was
getting impatient and eventually gave Erin juice in a spillproof cup
and let her down to the ground. Fox's eyes followed Erin as she made
her way over to the VCR and started pressing buttons, her favourite
pasttime, but his gaze quickly returned to Dana who cleaned up the mess
Erin had made and started to make her own breakfast. 
I felt dull pangs of disappointment. Somehow things were out of joint
again, or maybe they hadn't really been in sync in the first place. How
did they make things so difficult for themselves? And yet it wasn't
such an unanswerable question. They were at times dangerously close to
each other and their lives were complicated. They were trying to be
ordinary, but their lives couldn't be simplified in that way, the
ghosts from their pasts couldn't be discarded so easily. In many ways
they were as much fumbling in the dark as they had been the day I met
them, and every tragedy that hit them only deepened the black void. 

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

- MULDER POV - 

I caught up with her after lunch in the bedroom as she was putting on
shoes. Josh had asked to go to the Aquarium again and she'd agreed
readily to take him, eager to get away from me, I knew. 

I grabbed her upper arms as she tried to pass me. "Kiss me." 

"What?" She stared at me warily. 

"Kiss me," I repeated. 

Shaking my hands off, she leaned close enough to kiss my lips lightly. 

"No. Kiss me like you did last night." 

"Mulder, Josh is waiting for me downstairs -" 

"One kiss." 

"Josh is -" 

I gave up. "Why did you make love to me like that last night?" 

She frowned, looking a little nervous. "Like what?" 

"Like it wasn't about love at all, like it was about... I don't know.
It was like you were claiming a stranger. Like it was just casual sex,
like you were using somebody to try and get back at me..." Then it came
to me. "And I'm the somebody you used... because somehow you couldn't
be disloyal." 

Scully looked as stunned as I felt at the analysis. "That wasn't my
intention," she said shakily. 

Why was it that our relationship constantly needed this psychoanalysis?
Why was it that everything was so deep, so twisted and back to front
and upsidedown? We couldn't do anything without messing it up, without
it stirring some bad memory or causing a crisis. Our relationship was
forever turbulent, and no matter how simple or strong we worked to make
it there was no erasing the scars or guaranteeing more than brief
moments of equilibrium. And that was what we were doomed to. There were
too many nightmares, too many times we'd failed each other or
ourselves, and no matter how much we loved each other - and that was
never questioned - a stable life was never going to be possible for us.
War wounds lasted forever. 

"You don't have to worry about me, Scully. You know how much you mean
to me." 

She nodded, heaving a breath. She was near tears. "I know. I didn't
doubt that. I guess I was just  angry. I was being..." 

"Jealous," I supplied, wistful. Me too, I added silently. "It's okay,
Scully. This situation is just getting too difficult." 

"I want to go home." 

I nodded, drawing her against me, rubbing the nape of her neck,
dropping kisses on her hair, her forehead. She pulled away, sheepishly
brushing tears from her eyes. "Can we go home?" 

"You take Josh to the aquarium. Have a break. I'll book our flights." 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

Our flight home left at 6am tomorrow morning. I felt guilty as I told
Jacqueline how soon we were leaving, that somehow we should have given
her more warning. Dismayed, she said as much, that there were still
places she'd wanted to take us, things we hadn't seen. I shrugged
apologetically, telling her that we were due back at work in a couple
of days, and we didn't have much choice. It was time to go home. 

It was just past four. It would only take us an hour to pack and then
we still had the evening to go out somewhere. But despite her protests
earlier Jacqui still headed upstairs for her her afternoon nap. I
didn't blame her - she'd been looking increasingly tired and distracted
as we'd sat telling our plans.  

I was helping Astrid pack when I heard my name called. It was
Jacqueline, but at first I thought she was just calling me to fetch
something or ask a question and I finished trying to squeeze the zipper
done up on Astrid's bag. It was only when I heard her call me again,
then call for Graham and then Mulder that I realised something was
wrong. 

Graham was bounding up the stairs and we almost collided. I pushed open
the door to the bedroom and found Jacqui crying, pacing and panting,
stopping and gripping the corner of the chest of drawers. Graham pushed
past me and held Jacqui from behind, arms wrapped around her firmly,
supporting her through the contraction.  

I moved forward, watching as Jacqui slumped against him. She was scared
as hell. "When did they start?" 

"About ten minutes ago." 

"And that was the second one?" 

"The third." 

I stared at her, watching as Graham rocked her gently. She was
sniffling, her face buried in his jacket. "They're already five minutes
apart?" 

"Bout that. I wasn't timing them." 

This was going far too fast. Something was wrong. Surely she realised
that. Why hadn't she called us sooner? 

I yelled for Astrid to get me a pair of gloves and helped Graham get
Jacqueline on the bed so that I could do a quick examination. She was
already only a centimetres short of fully dialated.  

"Time to get you to the hospital," I announced, trying not to let my
concern show. Jacqui was terrified as it was.  

She had another contraction as Graham was helping her up again; this
time she was screaming as well as crying. Graham suggested calling an
ambulance but I knew we still had enough time to get her there by car.
Her water hadn't broken yet. Still, I practically forced them out the
door and down the stairs, past Mulder with Erin and Astrid and Josh and
Ebony, who stood silent and pale by herself.  
"I'll call ahead, tell them you're coming," I reassured Jacqui,
following them out as Graham carried her to the car, managing with
difficulty to get her into the back seat. "I'll pack some things for
you, and then follow right up, okay? You'll fine." 

She stared at me, agonised. Only once had I seen her so vulnerable, so
afraid of what she was in for. And that had led to horrific and
heartwrenching events. "Dana -" she whimpered. 

"I'll be up there as soon as I can," I promised her, closing the car
door. None of us waved as they drove off. 
  

I put the call through to the hospital, warning them of the sudden
onset and speed of the labour, being as concise as I could about her
situation. I was then hunting through her drawers for some clothes when
I found shoved in a corner a white paper bag emblazoned with a
chemist's logo. With sudden knowledge I unfolded it, tipping the
contents out onto the bedside table. A thin layer of white dust settled
on the black tabletop and a piece of tablet split on hitting the hard
surface, the fragments tumbling and rolling. A slip of paper wafted
down in a leisurely manner. 
Glancing at the receipt confirmed my suspicions: Jacqueline had taken
Cytotec, a drug used to induce labour. 
I picked up the fragments, fitting them together. They made a quarter
tablet, roughly cut. She'd taken the correct amount, at least. But if
she were so terrified of going through labour, what on earth had
compelled her to induce? Surely she'd know how unnecessarily dangerous
that was; for herself, for the baby, and with the drug's own potential
for complications and even fatalities. Not knowing as it was how her
body would handle the birth, why had she endangered herself further? 

"Mommy, are we still going to leave tomorrow morning?" Astrid stood in
the doorway. 

I shook my head. "I don't know, sweetie. After the baby's born. Jacqui
wanted us around for that." 

"Lucky she went into labour now," Astrid observed, unusually
poker-faced.  

"Yeah," I agreed, knowing full well that she knew. "Lucky." 
  

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

- MULDER POV - 

"I thought as much." Dr Simon, Jacqueline's obstretrician, a gruff,
bearded sixty year old, stared at the bagged quarter-tablet without
surprise. "Everybody's wanting to induce these days. Most of them tend
to get the doctor in on the act, though." 
  
Scully smiled politely. "Being a qualified OB-GYN herself, I believe
that Jacqueline felt confident enough -" 

"She do this to all her patients?" 

"Do what, sir?" 

"Induce them a month early. Damn stupidest thing I've ever seen." 

"I think you'll find that in this case there are ...extenuating
circumstances." 

"She's putting the baby's health in danger, and her own. That's wilful
endangerment of life. She could do time for that." 

She's just a kid. She's barely twenty-one, I wanted to say, but caught
myself in time. Twenty-year-olds weren't qualified OB-GYNs.  

Dr Simon shrugged in surrender, waving the baggie. "I need to go ask if
this was all she took." 

Scully shook her head. "With all due respect, sir, she knows what she's
doing. Just keep a close eye." 

Another shrug. "Very well, then." 

He went in anyway, to check how things were going. I'd been in briefly
to visit Jacqueline but had felt awkward, an intruder. I could well
remember how intimate the process had been for Scully and I, and had no
desire to ruin that for Jacqueline and Graham. Besides, Jacqueline's
fear and pain and distress were overwhelming. I had run from it. 

I watched as Scully went in to talk to Jacqueline. She stood by as
Graham encouraged Jacqueline through another contraction, filled a
tumbler with some icechips for Jacqueline, talking to her, talking to
Graham. She didn't mention the Cytotec, that was evident enough. I
agreed with her decision; now was not the time to confront Jacqueline
with her action. It was however, still something I wanted to discuss. I
broached the subject as soon as she returned to me. 

"What dangers are there?" 

"There's a slight risk of uterine rupture associated with use of the
drug," Scully admitted, leaning against me. "It's not FDA approved
though doctors use it every day." She shook her head. "I can't believe
she took it. She shouldn't have risked it; there's no telling how her
body will react to it." 
  

But all went perfectly, a two and a half hour labour. I had gone to
pick up the kids and by the time we arrived at the hospital we'd missed
the event entirely. Jacqueline had been moved to a private room and lay
with her head in Graham's lap as he sat cross-legged where the pillows
should be. She looked exhausted, half-asleep, only her hands moving as
she constantly rearranged her grip on one of Graham's hands, one of
Scully's. Her baby boy was being bathed and weighed. 

Sending Josh and Astrid with Erin down to the giftshop I drew up a
chair next to Scully's, sliding an arm around her, reaching out the
other to clasp Jacqueline's hand briefly so that it was sandwiched
between Scully's and mine. Graham called Ebony over and she stood
beside him warily, moving close enough to clutch his sweater, huddling
against him. 
I thought maybe we should leave them in peace but when I suggested it
Jacqueline shook her head. "Stay," she insisted, words slurred. "Wait
til they bring my baby back." 

A nurse kept looking in on us, suggesting - and then straight out
demanding - that we all leave Jacqueline to get some rest. But
Jacqueline defied all the suggestions. She was a doctor, after all; she
didn't take orders from nurses. She insisted that we stay. 

They finally brought the baby in, a bundle of green blankets in a
bassinet. Scully lifted him out, and some of Jacqueline's energy seemed
to return as she took the bundle, peeling back the blankets to reveal
the yawning red face and tiny fists.  

"Noah," Jacqueline whispered, stroking the tiny face with the backs of
her fingers. "Noah Jeremy Bell." 

I wondered how long those names had been in her mind. As far as I knew
she'd been assuming it was a girl - all the names she'd considered had
been girls' names, I was sure, and I'd seen a couple of tiny pink
outfits among the baby supplies already mounting up at Gerrideen. She'd
been hoping for a girl, had her heart set on it. 

She held the baby for several minutes before passing it to Graham to
hold. I'd never seen the guy so free of cynicism, so lit up. Was that
how I'd looked when I'd held Erin for the first time? Grinning from ear
to ear, full of such overwhelming emotion for this tiny stranger, this
new and most suddenly important possession? 
Jacqueline insisted that Graham let Scully and I have a hold, and
Astrid and Josh too when they returned with Erin. I protested, sure
that the baby shouldn't be passed around so freely, that he and
Jacqueline should both be left to rest, but Jacqueline shook her head. 

"I want you all to have a hold, before you leave." 

"We can delay our flight out," Scully suggested gently. I knew she was
thinking back to when Erin was born; we'd all relied heavily on
Jacqueline during that time. Scully felt, rightfully, that she should
be here to return the favour. 

"No, you've got to get back to your own lives. We'll be okay." 

"Sure?" 

"Absolutely." 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

She was yawning, exhausted from the ordeal, but smiling sleepily. No
longer afraid.  
It was almost ten, and we should be getting the kids home to bed, but I
knew this would be the last time we saw Jacqueline for a while and
wanted to say goodbye properly.  
But she was struggling to stay awake, and our farewells were brief out
of necessity. Hugs, thanks, promises of phone calls and e-mailed
photos, and before I knew it Mulder was hustling the kids out of the
room. I hung back, watching Graham and Jacqui with Noah, not wanting to
leave.  
"You take care," I told Jacqui softly, feeling myself getting teary
despite my best intentions. I hadn't realised until that point how
close I'd grown to her during the last few weeks. Already I was missing
her, like I had lost an integral part of me. The same way I felt when
Missy died. 

Jacqui was starting to cry a little, too. She passed the baby to Graham
and reached out for a hug, gripping me with surprising strength. "God,
I'm going to miss you guys so much." 

"You're not going to have the time to miss us," I joked gently. "You'll
keep busy." I pulled away. 

"Promise you'll call when you get home. I don't care what time it is
here, call me on the celphone. Promise?" 

"Promise," I agreed. 

She nodded. "I'm glad you came over here. You had fun, right?" 

I wasn't sure if most of our stay could be defined as such, certainly
not the earliest days. But I nodded, remembering something Josh had
said several days ago. "Whirlwind." 
  

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

- MULDER POV - 

Our flight left at six am; that meant leaving the house no later than
three-thirty in the morning. It wasn't an easy wakeup - the kids had
been too excited about the baby and flying home that they hadn't gone
to sleep til almost twelve, which meant only two and a half hours
before we woke them up again to shower, dress, and finalise any
packing. We ate breakfast downstairs under the fluorescent kitchen
lights in the dark house and Josh and Astrid, both still half-asleep
and grouchy, washed up as Scully and Graham and I started packing the
car with our luggage. Ebony had been left to sleep but wandered out in
pajamas, rubbing her eyes, watching warily as bags were carted
everywhere, sheets were stripped off beds, the ironing pile was raided
for our unironed clothing. Last checks were done of all our rooms, then
again after the first time turned up half a dozen small articles left
behind. We were on the third sweepthrough when I found that Josh had
walked Ebony back to her bedroom and was talking to her as she huddled
in her bed. As I watched something happened that surprised me: Josh
reached out to hug Ebony. We all knew that was a big no-no. Contact
with Ebony was only by her initiation. But she didn't flinch away or
scream, she simply rested against him, let herself be held. I was
astounded not only by the trust in her action but in Josh's maturity.
He had always been three steps ahead of us when it came to Ebony. 

I let them be, moving on to the next room for a last check. We were
halfway out the door when Astrid remembered the collection of seashells
she'd put outside to dry off. She ran out, spending five minutes
searching for them in the dark, and came back in looking crestfallen.
"I can't find them." 

We didn't have time to waste if we were to reach the airport to check
in on time, but when I told Astrid as much she threw a five minute
tantrum and I realised as Scully bundled her off into the car that I
might as well have let her have another two minutes to search. 

Our lateness gave us an excuse for a hurried goodbye to Graham, at
least. It was awkward, because as generous as he had been and as
grateful as we were, I wouldn't call what was between us exactly
friendship. Not that it needed to be, I thought suddenly. After all, we
were related. We were family. 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

The airport was seemingly deserted, fluorescent lights burning in high
ceilings, illuminating the long stretches of colourful carpet usually
alive with movement, and now barely another soul in sight. 
The kids were hungry again already, they complained, so we bought some
McDonald's fries after checking in. Then they complained that they were
thirsty.  
We settled down to wait in the lounge and the kids dashed off to
explore. It had been cold outside and was still a little chilly inside.
Mulder had his coat wrapped around himself and Erin, who slept on his
lap. I watched them affectionately. They were *mine*. No matter how
much we messed up or how disfunctional we were, they were mine and
always would be. That thought alone made me feel strangely immortal. 

I could have moved to the seat next to Mulder but chose instead to stay
where I was. We would have enough time side-by-side on the plane. I
slipped my shoes off, drew my feet up under me, and closed my eyes. 

I'm not sure how long I dozed for. The kids woke me with some argument
over whose turn it had been to play the GameBoy. It was too early for
the duty free shops to be open, unfortunately; that would have kept
them occupied. I told them to stop arguing and looked past them to
where Mulder sat with Erin at the window. He held her up, her face
pressed against the glass as he pointed to things out on the lit-up
tarmac. Then she wriggled down and tackled him, giggling, wanting to
play chasings.  

"Da da da!" she squealed. 

He swept her up off the ground, grinning from ear to ear, and spun her
around, playing airplane. "Byeeeee!" she shrieked, her favourite word.
"Byeeeeeeeeee!" 
  

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

- JACQUELINE POV - 

Ebony had disappeared again. As I sent Grae off to look for her I held
Noah against me, reluctant to even lower him into the carrier. He was
so precious. I'd wanted a girl, it hadn't been a secret, but I loved my
little boy with my whole heart. 
It wasn't the first time Ebony had done her vanishing trick and I
wasn't really concerned; I had a fair idea where she would be. Only
yesterday she'd wandered off; we were on our way to the nursery and
Ebony had ended up in the oncology ward. We'd eventually found her
there, sitting at a bedside, gazing at the woman who lay there, scarf
on her head, tubes everywhere, morphine drip. The woman was dying of
cancer.  

I asked the nurse to mind Noah for two minutes as I went after Grae.
There was a commotion in the oncology ward and I found Grae and Ebony
at the very heart of it. Ebony was at the same woman's bedside,
gripping the woman's hand. Grae was trying to pull Ebony away. A doctor
called a stop to the CPR and announced the time of death. Ebony was
crying. 

I stood in the doorway, stunned by the impossibility of what I'd just
seen. Ebony had never shown such an ability to relate to others. What
was it about this woman? 

"I didn't realise she had family," a nurse remarked as I moved forward
to help Grae with Ebony. She was kicking and screaming and sobbing all
at once, the most emotion we'd ever seen from her. "I'm sorry you
couldn't have gotten here sooner." 

She left before I could answer that. It took us ten minutes to calm
Ebony down and even then she wouldn't stop crying. Grae picked her up
and carried her, I took Noah in the carrier. They both cried all five
minutes of the drive home. 
  

I wanted to somehow comfort her but as soon as Grae unlocked the house
she bolted inside, hiding in her bedroom. I found her there, sitting in
the corner, rocking, trembling, still crying. In her hands was a
crumpled piece of paper. I took it from her, smoothing it out. It was a
drawing, she'd drawn it yesterday, according to Grae's neat date in the
corner, and it was the first actual drawing I could remember her ever
having done. She would colour, cut and paste, but she never drew.  
I passed the page to Grae, who crouched beside me. He studied it for a
moment, then asked, "Is that the woman from the hospital?" 

That was certainly what it looked like, but Ebony shook her head. 

"But that's you by the bedside, right? Who's that in the bed?" 

The woman was dark-haired, a stick figure with arms and legs at all
angles. There was a big upsidedown smile on her yellow face. The
woman's stick hand held Ebony's. And I knew as clear as day who that
woman was. 

"That's Mommy, isn't it, Ebony? That's your mommy?" 

One of her tiny nods. Her hands were clenched in tiny fists. 

"How old are you in this picture, Ebs?" Grae asked gently. 

Fingers raised, slowly. Four fingers. Then, before I knew it, arms
around my neck, a weight in my lap, and loud, jerky tears. I took a
second to respond, putting my arms around her, stroking her hair. She
was a stranger, I realised, and she would be until she spoke, until she
had some way of communicating with us everything that boiled inside
her.  
Grae put his arms around the pair of us. Now I was finally small enough
again to be held like that. "It's not so hard telling us stuff, after
all, is it Ebs?" 

I heard a cry from Noah but knew he could wait. All he needed over the
next few weeks and months and months was easy to give. Ebony needed not
only the physical support but emotional as well. We had to stop
neglecting that. 
"We'd like to know you better, Ebony, know all about everything that
happened before you came to live with us. That way we can maybe stop
some things from hurting so much. Do you think you could help with
that?" 

And that was how Ebony started drawing pictures. 
  

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

- SCULLY POV - 

"Beach." 

"Pool." 

"Grandma's." 

"Beach." 

The harrassment started before we even landed, when they heard the
weather forecast for home. The temperature was predicted to reach a
hundred degrees before midday. After a month of winter weather Josh and
Astrid were desperate to get into the summer heat and swim.  

The hot, dry heat hit us like a blast from a furnace as we stepped out
of the airport. We'd already peeled off our winter layers but I still
felt overdressed in my thin sleeveless top and light pants. The thought
of a day at the beach appealed to me just as much as it did the kids,
but we had things to do first. 
"We've got to get home and unpack. Erin needs a proper nap, too." She
barely slept at all on the plane. 

The whining and pleading and cajoling continued. We stopped by work to
pick up the mail that had accumulated during our absence, then by the
grocery store to buy some necessary groceries. When we finally got home
the kids settled for changing into swimming costumes and chasing each
other on the strip of lawn with buckets of water, leaving Mulder and I
to unpack the car. I put Erin down for a nap and got a load of washing
going before I chased up Mulder to see what he was up to.  
He was stretched out on the bed, though he hadn't fallen asleep as I'd
suspected. He was sorting through the mail and envelopes and letters
were piled up around him all over the covers. He had one letter in his
hand and was staring at it, chewing on his lower lip in concentration. 
I moved closer. "What is it?" 

"It's from Melissa Redburg."  

For a second I couldn't place the name, it seemed such a long time
since the case. Then I remembered. "Why did she write?" 

"She did some research, apparently. She found out that Hillary Walkins'
great-aunt met her unfortunate end in that same spot, a hundred years
ago. Exactly a hundred years ago." 

"What are you suggesting?" 

He tossed me two photos. One I recognised immediately, the same photo
of Hillary Walkins I'd shown Mulder. The other was a copy of an older
photograph, as was evident enough from the clothing and sepia tones.
The subject of the photo was almost identical to Hillary Walkins,
though several years younger.  
"That's our ghost." 

"Mulder -" I protested. 

"Her name was Annabel Carter. You can't tell from the photograph, but
Melissa says that her eyes were blue. She died when she was only
thirteen." 

"How did she die?" 

"She was abducted and assaulted by two older boys, a fifteen year old
and a sixteen year old. They strangled her, then abandoned the body and
ran. According to Melissa they were caught and served time in a
juvenile detention centre. One of them killed two men in a bar only a
week after being released and was given the death sentence. The other
moved to another state, married and had eleven kids. One of these kids
had a daughter who married a guy named William Redburg. They had three
children, among them David William Redburg." 

"And that's why the ghost of Annabel Carter attacked the family?
Because they're descended from her killer?" 

"And now they're living in her hometown. Wouldn't that make you mad as
hell?" 

I had no answer for him. There was no evidence in the case, only
speculation and conjecture. It wasn't worth wasting our energy on. It
could remain unsolved. We didn't need to untangle every mystery.  

I eased the photos from his hand and tossed them down on the covers,
face-down. 
"We don't need to think about that anymore." I reached out to take his
hand, giving it a quick squeeze, smiling. "What do you say we head off
to the beach for the afternoon?" 

He grinned. "I say after surviving the last month, we deserve it." 
  
  

fin.