Let's Face the Music and Dance - Part 1

My Season 9 'Fix-It Fic.' This was completed two weeks before Nothing Important Happened Today aired, October 2001.

Rated NC-17 for sexual content and canon typical violence.

Let's Face the Music and Dance

There may be troubles ahead

But while there's moonlight and music and love and romance

Let's face the music and dance

Before the fiddlers have fled

Before they ask us to pay the bill, and while we still have

that chance

Let's face the music and dance

Soon, we'll be without the moon

Humming a different tune - and then...

There may be teardrops to shed

But while there's moonlight and music and love and romance

Let's face the music and dance, dance

Let's face the music and dance...

*****

It was like a vision of Hell.

Or, at least, what she had always envisioned Hell would be like. Fire and brimstone. Fear and suffering. Anger and hate. She felt it all surround her as she stood on the hilltop overlooking the valley below. It had once been a beautiful valley, she thought. She could still see the skeletal remains of trees, now burnt almost beyond recognition. And she saw what appeared to be a pond, which had once fed water to the valley, but now sat bubbling and steaming up into the frigid air. She breathed in deep, amazed at how cold the air was considering the inferno below her. She wondered vaguely how cold it would be without the

flames.

A large ball of glowing light shot by overhead, powerful rays from some unknown weapon raining down on the already battered ground. She felt more heat billow up from the resulting explosions. What did they think they were doing? she wondered. Wasn't the valley dead enough for them? Were they trying to kill the Devil himself?

She heard a noise from behind her and turned. Coming up the rocky trail she had just traversed (though she had no recollection of having done so) was a man. He was tall and lean, his bare arms well-muscled, the rest of his body covered in makeshift armor and weapons. His hair was almost non-existent, having been clipped as short as possible in a

severe military cut. In the light emanating from the fire below, it blazed red. His eyes also mirrored the flames, their natural dark green color fighting to be seen.

"What the hell are you doing up here?!" he called out, his voice as cold as steel, yet tinged with fear. "Do you think you're indestructible, or do you just not care anymore?"

"I care!" she heard herself respond. "I care more than you'll ever know!"

"Then get the hell away from where they can see you." He reached out and grasped her elbow, and she let him lead her away from the destruction behind her.

She turned one last time and looked out over the valley floor, seeing in her mind's eye how it used to look: Green, verdant, full of life. "It used to be so beautiful," she said quietly.

Somehow, he heard her over the wind and the roar of the flames. "I know, Mom. I remember."

*****

Scully's eyes flew open, the visions of fire and explosions still imprinted on her corneas, the smell of smoke and death still fresh in her lungs. She threw the covers off herself and sat upright, swinging her bare legs over the side of the bed. Still breathing hard, she reached over and flipped on the bedside lamp, then stood on shaky legs, unconsciously tugging the hem of her nightshirt down as she stumbled over to the crib that sat in the corner of the room.

William lay sleeping peacefully inside. Cautiously, she reached out and touched his cheek, assuring herself his skin was still warm. That he was still alive and real. He moved his head at her touch, a soft moan emanating from his open mouth, but he didn't wake. She sighed and closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing heart.

"Scully?"

Opening her eyes, she turned to look at the man sitting in the bed she had just vacated. His dark hair was tousled and his lower face was shadowed with stubble. His hazel eyes were filled with concern. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said quietly, careful not to disturb Will. "Just a dream."

"A dream," he asked, "or the dream?"

Scully sighed again and moved back toward the bed. "It's just a dream, Mulder," she whispered. "Don't make it out to be more than that." She kneeled on her side of the bed. It was amazing how quickly she had adjusted to a 'her' side, especially after almost ten years of sleeping alone. "It's not a vision, or a premonition, or the reincarnation of some

spirit that has taken over my mind and is waiting for the perfect opportunity to take over my body and ravish you until your heart stops beating and you can't breathe anymore."

"Damn," he muttered, slowly sinking back against his pillow. "What a way to go." He gave her a cheeky grin, which made her grin in return as she slid back under the covers. She

reached out to extinguish the light before stretching out on her back.

She closed her eyes, but she could feel him staring at her. With a soft groan, she turned her back on him. "Mulder, I'm sorry I woke you. Now, go to sleep."

He didn't respond, and she still felt his gaze on her. For a moment, she wondered if it was her imagination, and that he had, in fact, already fallen asleep. But if there was one thing she had learned in the many years she had worked with this man, it was that he never gave up easily, if at all. And that the 'feel' of his stare was as intense as his actual gaze.

With another groan, she sat up and turned to look at him.

He was lying on his side, leaning on his elbow, head propped in his hand. And he was indeed staring at her.

"Quit it," she said softly but sharply.

"Quit what?"

"Quit staring at me like that. It makes me nervous."

"Why does it make you nervous?" His lips had curved into a soft smile.

"Because, I can never tell what you're thinking when you look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Mulder!" she said, exasperation filling her voice. "Would you quit with the twenty questions already? I'm tired and I'd like to go back to sleep."

"So sleep."

"I can't with you staring at me!"

"Why not?" His voice was calm, relaxed. "You do it all the time."

She lay silent for a while, then she looked at him. "I do what all the time?"

"Sleep while I stare at you," he said, his voice becoming husky.

His admission that he watched her while she slept should have unsettled her, but instead it shot an arrow of arousal down to her groin. "Mulder..."

As quick as a jungle cat after his prey, he was upon her, pinning her to the bed beneath them. Her struggle was halfhearted at best, and as soon as his lips and tongue encountered the bare skin of her throat, it ceased altogether. "Mulder..." she said again, the tone of her voice deeper and richer this time around.

"Don't you know I watch you when you sleep, Scully?" he whispered into her neck. "I have for years." He was unbuttoning her nightshirt, and Scully felt herself arch up into him as his knuckles brushed her breasts. "Only now," he continued. "I don't have to wonder what it would be like to touch you. To taste you." He sucked lightly on her collarbone. "Now, I can just do it."

"Mulder?"

"Hmmm?"

"Are you going to ravish me?"

"Yep." He latched onto her now bared breast, suckling it gently, careful not to bring forth the milk which she still provided to their six-month-old son on a daily basis.

Scully let herself drift into the mindless ecstasy of her lover's touch, knowing that, as much as he was enjoying it, he was doing it to help her forget the dream; to help her sleep peacefully. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes she slept straight through until morning.

Sometimes, it returned. The same exact images she had dreamt nearly every night for a month now. The nightmare that she was beginning to fear was so much more than just a dream.

*****

It was time.

Now or never. Slowly, she made her way into the kitchen. She had been thinking about this for some time now; about how she would do it. What would be the quickest, most painless

way for both her and her child? She couldn't stand the thought of stabbing him with a knife. Besides, she would have to make sure she hit an artery, else he would probably heal himself before he bled to death. Overdosing on drugs had been another option. But, his stomach was so sensitive, she knew he wouldn't be able to keep enough down to send him into sleep forever. Drowning? No. Too much like that woman in Texas, who had no earthly reason to do what she did to her kids. Not like she did. But, her reason wasn't earthly, either.

Opening the drawer next to the sink, she pulled out the handgun she had dug out of the back of the closet earlier today. Quick. Easy. Ray had taught her how to shoot before she married him. But, like the knife, she would have to make sure she aimed at an area that would ensure immediate death. Then she would have to find the same place on her own body. Her son could not live any longer. And she couldn't live without her son. So tonight, they were leaving this world together.

Cocking the weapon in her shaking hand, she turned and headed for the bedroom her son slept in. Her mother was staying with friends in Eugene tonight, so it was just her and R.J. Silently, she moved down the hall. She quietly pushed open the door to the bedroom. He was laying there, still and innocent in sleep. If only he hadn't been born, she thought. If only he had been born normal.

With a deep breath, she raised the gun, aiming it for the little boy's head. His eyes opened. Widened. "I'm sorry," she whispered, though she knew she didn't need to say anything out loud to him. "I'm sorry."

Her finger tightened on the trigger.

*****

When Scully entered the main doors to her apartment complex, one arm wrapped around a brown bag full of groceries, she heard the booming bass immediately. Actually, she didn't

hear it, but instead felt the throbbing beat through the floor. She sighed and rolled her eyes, glad it was only a little after 4:30 in the afternoon else she would be calling her landlord to complain. She made her way to her apartment, slowly realizing as she drew closer that the familiar, repetitive beat was emanating from behind her door.

Mouth agape, she opened it, meeting Queen's 'We Will Rock You' face to face. With a grimace, she glanced down the hall to insure no one was going blame her for the noise, then

walked through the door, slamming it behind her.

"Mulder!"

No answer. Of course not. He probably couldn't hear her over the noise. At least, that was the excuse she knew he would use. She set the bag down on the counter, a little too hard,

and put her hands on her hips, glaring at the man in the kitchen. His back was to her, so he didn't see her. Then again, she thought with growing amusement, he was a little distracted.

Mulder was dancing and singing along with the song, sliding around the linoleum floor on his socks, his hips swaying and his head bouncing in time with the triple beat blaring from her stereo. William, sitting in his high chair nearby, was trying valiantly to imitate his father, but was a little off the beat. Make that far off the beat, she thought, a grin overtaking her frown as the red-haired baby pounded the tray in front of him a little too fast.

Mulder, who was attempting to make dinner as he danced, turned to face Will. "You got mud on your face!" he sang, slightly off key. "A big disgrace!" He reached over and tapped Will on the nose, creating a huge grin on the little boy's face. Turning back to the counter, he wiggled his hips again, and Scully's grin turned to a full-blown smile as she eyed his tight butt, outlined perfectly by his well-worn jeans. Using the slick floor to his advantage, he spun around, stopping with a shocked look on his face when he spotted Scully.

"Oh, sh--" He glanced at Will. "Shoot!"

Biting her lower lip, Scully turned toward the stereo, shaking her head slightly as she turned it off. Then she turned to face her former partner and current live-in lover, her eyebrows raised, arms folded across her chest.

"Hi, Scully!" Mulder said with forced cheerfulness. "My, you're home early. I thought you had a meeting."

Will had turned to look when the music had quit, and realizing his mother was there, he began pounding the tray in earnest, another huge grin splitting his face in two. Scully walked toward the baby, whose arms were now stretched in her direction. Picking him up from the chair, Scully answered, "It was canceled. So, this is what you two do when I leave you alone all day. It's a wonder we haven't been evicted."

Mulder braced his hands on his hips, his eyes narrowing. "Now, wait just a minute. We were just getting psyched up for our guests tonight. Both Will and I find it relaxing to..." He seemed to be struggling for a word or phrase to describe the loud music and dancing.

"Lose you hearing?" Scully finished for him, her tone serious, though she wasn't really mad. Then she replayed his words in her mind. "What guests?"

Mulder grinned. The same kind of grin he used to give her just before telling her of an outrageous case he had committed himself and her to when they had both been a part of the X-Files. "It's a good thing you got home early, Scully. It's much easier telling you this face to face instead of over the phone."

Scully felt dread seep into every crevice of her body. Since Mulder had moved in after the baby's birth, her home life had been more than interesting. Of course, for the first few months, sleep had been rare because of Will, and arguments had been a regular occurrence, but they had never held much real anger. And both were so much more content than either had imagined sharing the same abode. The same bathroom. The same kitchen. The same bed.

When Will had turned three months old, Scully had returned to work, but not to the X- Files. Agent Monica Reyes had been working with Agent Doggett since Will's birth, and both Scully and Skinner agreed that Reyes should stay on the project; Scully wasn't too thrilled with the idea of returning to such a dangerous vocation now that she had a child. She had settled into motherhood easily. Now, she was back to teaching at the Academy... and still very active with assisting with the X-Files at Doggett's request.

Mulder, on the other hand, seemed to have no inclination to go back to work. Any kind of work. For the last six months, he had been completely content to be Mr. Mom, only half-heartedly looking for work. Reyes often came to him for advice on certain cases, which he gave without question, but he was never excited or enthused about helping with an X-File. His behavior worried Scully, and she would have questioned him about it long ago if he hadn't seemed so happy. And he was. He was undeniably happy. Only Scully's recurring nightmare seemed to worry him; it was during the rare moments when she talked about them that the old Mulder, the intense, serious Mulder, returned.

Now, even though he was grinning, she noticed the strain around his eyes and the darkness underneath their humorous glow. "Mulder? Who's coming to dinner?"

"Your mom," he said. But before Scully could sigh in relief, he continued. "And Bill and his family."

*****

How in the hell had he gotten himself into this mess?

Mulder asked himself this question for the seventeenth time in the last forty minutes, the amount of time Scully's brother had been present in their apartment. The man hadn't even said anything degrading. In fact, on the outside, he seemed the perfect gentleman. But Mulder had seen the distaste and anger in the other man's eyes; eyes so similar and yet so very different from Scully's. And he could feel it. He didn't know whether he was happy Bill was keeping his hatred to himself, thereby keeping the peace, or whether he hoped the man would pick a fight so they could get it over

with.

When Maggie had called him that afternoon telling him Bill and his family were in town, he had immediately found himself on the defense. And yet, he was looking forward to the challenge, as well. So, when Maggie had asked him if he and Scully would join them for dinner at her place, the little devil on Mulder's shoulder had requested they come to the apartment instead. Maggie, who had been by for dinner several times in the last few months, agreed readily.

But even Maggie seemed different tonight. She had always gotten along with him in the past, and since his relationship with her daughter had surpassed the professional, she had treated him like another son. Tonight, however, he noticed that while she was talking and smiling and keeping up with the conversation moving around the table, she refused to look him in the eye. For some reason, this unnerved him greatly.

Bill's wife Tara was an enigma as well. He had only met the perky blonde once, at Emily's funeral more than three years ago. She had been depressed about the child's death, and exhausted over her own child's birth, so he knew her behavior that day hadn't been normal. Despite her laughter and bubbly personality this evening, he sensed an undercurrent of tension in her whole being. It was very subtle, but it was there. Unlike her mother-in-law, she did meet his eyes, but she never let her gaze linger, and more often than not, she would look at Bill with something like guilt afterwards. It was almost as if she wanted to befriend him, to like him, but was afraid Bill wouldn't approve.

Mulder was very tempted to look beyond what he could see with his eyes to find out what he should expect from this meal, but he had promised Scully long ago that he would not take advantage of the people around him by 'stealing their secrets'. That's what Scully called it, anyway. It was a great way to keep Mulder and his growing talent in check.

He knew that Scully seemed to sense the strain, as well, though she herself was very relaxed. That's my Scully, he thought. Nothing ever got her riled without a very good

reason.

Matthew, Bill and Tara's three-year-old son, was the only one at the table that evening who didn't seem to be anything other than himself. Mulder studied the boy, wondering if Will would grow to look like this child. The cousins shared the same hair color, the Scully red, but Matthew had inherited his father's blue eyes. Just in the last month, Will's eyes had darkened to a rich hazel, with more green than brown, and flecks of gold. Scully had been overjoyed by the change. Mulder had been as well, though he didn't tell her so.

Mulder had made a simple meal of spaghetti, with a fresh tossed salad and garlic bread on the side. He was a fair chef, who had improved greatly since Scully had returned to work and he had taken on the majority of the cooking, but he had not wanted to attempt anything elaborate tonight. Now, as he watched Matthew play with his pasta, he wondered if he shouldn't have chosen something a little less messy. No one seemed concerned that the boy preferred using his hands to eat the noodles, covering his fingers and face with the sauce. Mulder was glad Will had fallen asleep shortly after the Scully family's arrival, else the boy would be learning some unwanted mannerisms from his cousin.

Scully and her mother handled the clean-up before dessert, with Scully telling Mulder to relax since he had done the cooking. Mulder felt even more uncomfortable as his trustworthy back-up for the last eight years left him to check on the baby just as they were getting started on the brownies and ice cream. Conversation stilled.

Tara was the first to speak. "So, Fox," she paused, but Mulder didn't bother correcting her. She was, after all, family. Kind of. "Dana told me a while back you were considering writing a book. That sounds wonderful."

Mulder felt his face heat. A book? In actuality, he had made some wry comment to Scully several weeks ago about how if he wrote a book on their adventures with the X-Files, no one would buy it because they wouldn't believe any of it. When Scully had told him they could market it as Fiction, he had laughed. "Yeah. Then people would complain the stories were too far-fetched and silly." He had never seriously considered putting anything about his life down on paper, and he knew Scully knew this.

"Well, I've thought about it," he lied. "But I'm no writer."

That was Bill's cue. "You're not much of anything, as far as I can see." The husky man looked about him. "You do keep a clean house, though." He met Mulder's gaze with his own, the challenge there.

Mulder just smiled. "Thanks. It'll be nicer when it actually becomes a house."

That got Maggie's attention. "You two are thinking about buying a house?" Mulder knew why the woman sounded so excited. A house meant a commitment. Not quite marriage, but

close. It meant he wasn't thinking about leaving her daughter anytime soon. How could he explain to her that he would never willingly leave Scully? Married or not, she was his and he was hers. Forever, as far as he was concerned.

"We've considered it, yes," Mulder responded.

"And how exactly are you going to afford a house?" Bill asked. Mulder looked back at him. He looked formidable, elbows on the table, hands folded in front of him, his chin resting on them. His eyebrows were raised in question.

"My job pays well," Scully said from behind him, having heard her brother's question while on her way back from the bedroom. "And Mulder inherited a buttload from his mother."

Mulder was both irritated by and grateful for her interruption. While he knew he could never live without her back-up, some fights he really wanted to handle by himself. "I'll be working again soon," he added, glancing up at Scully as she lightly touched his shoulder in passing before moving back to her own chair. He didn't miss the surprised look on her face, but she covered it well, and he knew the others hadn't noticed.

"Really?" Bill continued, his disbelief evident in his voice. "Doing what?"

Copying Bill's posture, Mulder brought his elbows up to the table, folded his hands and leaned his chin on them, giving Bill what he hoped was a mysterious smile. "That information is classified."

He heard Scully snort with laughter, and soon her sister-in-law was also giggling. Maggie smiled, but her eyes, he noticed, looked haunted.

"Bill," Scully said. "We are doing fine. Mulder isn't living off my income, nor is he not busy. Do you know how wonderful it is not to have to send Will to daycare?" She glanced at her mother. "And Mom already raised four kids. She doesn't need another." With a soft smile, she reached over and took one of Mulder's hands in hers. "We are doing fine."

Watching Bill's impassive face, Mulder returned the squeeze Scully gave his hand. But, despite her words, he felt guilt and depression fill him. They were doing fine, but could they be doing better? He knew Scully sometimes watched him with a worried expression, and he wondered if she missed the old Mulder. The obsessive, married-to-his-work Mulder. He didn't. At least, not very often. He sometimes felt like he was a bear in hibernation. Waiting, not for spring, but for something not nearly so sweet. He needed to keep his mind

and body fit, which he did by running, weight lifting and reading every chance he got. But he didn't know quite what he was waiting for.

Tara changed the subject, and once again conversation flowed. It wasn't any less tense than before, but it went smoothly. Mulder excused himself first, insisting that he do the dishes. He didn't rush the job, and by the time he was done, the rest of the Scullys were ready to leave. Tara gave him a peck on the check, and Matthew high-fived him. Bill just nodded, so Mulder simply nodded back.

Maggie came forward for a hug, which he returned willingly. While she was in his embrace, she whispered, "You know, Bill might be a little warmer toward you if you married my daughter."

He smiled and pulled away. "I'm not the one you should be talking to, then," he said softly.

"I'm trying, I'm trying," the older woman said, a hint of a whine in her voice. It reminded him of Scully when she wasn't getting her way. She glanced at her daughter and shook her head, clearly frustrated.

Scully, who had heard none of the conversation, looked at them, her brow furrowed.

With a final kiss on his cheek, Maggie turned to leave. "You better keep trying, too, Fox." Her voice was stern, now.

Mulder gave her a mock salute. "Aye, aye, ma'am." Maggie laughed and left, closing the door behind her.

Mulder turned to see Scully watching him with a frown, her arms folded in front of her. "What was that about?"

"Nothing," Mulder told her with a smirk. He headed for the couch. "Just your mom trying to get me to make an honest woman of you."

He heard Scully's resigned sigh behind him. He let himself fall full-length on the couch, emitting a groan of exhaustion. "I was so sure Bill was going to do a lot more than what he did." He flung his arm over his eyes.

He felt Scully sit down on the edge of the couch next to his hip. He jumped slightly as he felt her hand rest on his chest. Typical reaction to her touch these days, he thought wryly. Before Will's birth, before his abduction, when they had been just starting to learn about each other sexually, and still working together to boot, her touch had been rare and treasured. It certainly wasn't rare anymore, but it still enflamed him like nothing ever had before or since. Especially since his brave, independent, I-can-look-out-for-myself Scully rarely initiated sex. This didn't mean she was a passive lover. Far from it. But she still seemed to be afraid of rejection. As if he would ever reject her. As if he could.

He knew her shyness arose from both her Catholic upbringing, and her past relationships, which all seemed to involve dominant men. Of course, Mulder had been working on changing

the way she approached sex. Knowing how uninhibited she became once passion took over, he was convinced it wouldn't take much for her to become the aggressor from time to time. Apparently, one of those times was now.

She carefully pulled herself along his length, lying fully on top of him. Mulder dropped his arm to look at her, dismayed at the look of uncertainty in her eyes. He didn't bother to say anything. He simply lifted his hips slightly. Her eyes widened and they met his. She had felt his erection, which was already growing simply because she was touching him. "Mulder?" she whispered, the uncertainty gone.

"Hmm?"

"You know I love you, don't you?" She kissed his chin.

"Yeah," he said, bringing his hands around to lightly place them on her butt.

"And you know that I would love to marry you, right?"

Did he? He had asked. More than once, in fact. She had turned him down every time. "Well, yeah," he said, and he couldn't help the sarcasm that slipped though. "You're just wanting a really, REALLY long courtship."

She had been nuzzling his chin, but at his words she stopped. He looked at her. Her eyes were sad, but anger sat just underneath the surface. "I do, Mulder. I do want to marry you." She sighed and looked away. "Just not yet."

Will's impatient cry echoed from down the hall. "He probably needs to be changed," Scully said softly, pushing herself away from him and standing. "He went to sleep too early tonight." Without looking at him, she walked away, leaving him alone, sprawled on the couch and half aroused.

"Looks like we're both waiting for something unknown, Scully."

*****

J. Edgar Hoover Building

Special Agent John Doggett sat at his desk in the basement office that had officially become his almost seven months earlier, reading the police report that had been faxed to

him that morning. Once he finished reading it, he read it again. But reading it a second time did not ease his concern. In fact, it only made it worse.

His partner, Monica Reyes, walked through the door, casually throwing her coat onto the rack, a small smile on her face. It was a rare day indeed that she came to work unhappy.

"Morning, Agent Doggett," she said as she made her way over to the other desk. The desk that had been his when Dana Scully had run the X-Files. She paused when she reached it, a frown taking over the smile. Her dark brows furrowed as she looked at him. "What's wrong?" she asked. "You seem more dour this morning than usual."

Doggett couldn't help but smile at her comment. She never failed to make him laugh when she set her mind to it. He looked back at the report in his hand, sobering instantly. With a grimace, he leaned forward and shoved the papers her way. Curiously, she took the report from him, then leaned back, half sitting on her desk, to read it. He kept his eyes glued to her face, easily reading the moment she understood what she was reading and recognized the names of the people involved.

She finished and looked up at him, her eyes wide. "When did you get this?"

"This morning," Doggett said roughly. "From persons unknown."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I called the Bellefleur Police Department, and they don't know who sent it. They said they had no reason to send it to the Bureau." He shrugged and leaned back in his chair.

"But someone thought we should see it," Reyes said, her voice contemplative. Her gaze seemed to turn inward, and Doggett knew she was thinking about something important. "We should tell them," she said finally.

"Who?" Doggett asked, though he knew very well who she was talking about.

Reyes simply glared at him.

"Nah-uh!" Doggett said, rising from his seat. "They don't need to know anything about this."

Reyes also stood straight. "What? Why? This may concern them!"

"I don't see how it could," Doggett argued.

Reyes' voice rose. "What do you mean, you don't see how it could?! They have a connection to this woman, especially Mulder! What if this means their child is in danger? Shouldn't we at least warn them?!"

Doggett shook his head determinedly. "They don't need to have their lives turned upside down again, especially if this is completely unrelated to what happened more than a year ago."

"John," Reyes said, her voice calmer. "What if it isn't? Someone wanted us to know about this. Why?" She shrugged. "What can it hurt to at least put them on alert?"

Doggett didn't say a word, but he folded his arms and stood staring at her, holding back his frustration.

Reyes seemed to sense it anyway. "They may need our protection, John, but they also deserve the truth."

"We don't even know the truth," he growled.

"And we'll find out the truth, but not before we tell Mulder what's going on." Reyes' voice was firm; she wasn't about to back down.

Doggett felt his shoulders droop. "Okay," he agreed. "But if it's nothing...if we worry them for nothing, I'll..."

"You'll what?" Reyes asked with a grin.

"Never mind," Doggett grumbled, then headed for the door. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

*****

When Scully's first class of the day was interrupted by a phone call from her former partner, she knew the rest of the day was bound to get interesting. Her first thought was that he needed her help on an X-File. Instead, he had requested a meeting with both her and Mulder at their apartment. Was it important enough for her to blow off her classes? Yes, he had said, his voice dark. It was.

Worriedly, Scully excused herself from her class, leaving her assistant, an energetic would-be Quincy, ME, in charge and headed for home.

When she arrived, she found both Doggett and Reyes sitting comfortably on her couch and Mulder pacing the room. Monica had Will in her lap. Scully had debated several months ago

on making Monica Will's Godmother, but felt it was only fair since the other agent had been witness to the little boy's birth. Besides, Scully really didn't have any other female

friends to ask. She and Skinner took their roles as Godparents seriously, taking turns baby-sitting Will whenever possible.

At the moment, Monica seemed content and relaxed, and Doggett also seemed at ease, but Mulder looked as if he was about to explode at any moment. "What's wrong?" Scully demanded as she entered the apartment, her eyes on Mulder.

"I don't know," Mulder griped. "They won't tell me."

Scully looked back at the agents, her eyebrows raised.

"We wanted to wait until you got here," Doggett told her, casting a glare in Mulder's direction.

Scully slipped off her coat and set it aside. She smiled at Mulder. "Then why do you resemble a caged lion?" Make that a panther, she thought to herself. Sleek and graceful and ready to kill to defend his own.

"Muldah, sit down." Doggett demanded. "You too, Scully." His voice was softer when he directed it toward her, as were his eyes.

Will reached for his mother as she sat in the chair kitty-corner from the couch, and she hefted him onto her lap. "How's my boy?" she asked him. He responded with a grin. Mulder moved over and sat on the arm of her chair, and she felt the tension in his body as her arm touched his thigh. She looked up at him with concern. When he didn't return her gaze, she turned back to the agents. "Okay, I'm here. What's going on?"

Monica gave Doggett a nervous glance, then started talking. "We were faxed a police report from the Sheriff's Department in Bellefleur, Oregon this morning. We called them, and they confirmed that the report was real, but they don't know why we were sent it."

Scully's body had tensed at the mention of Bellefleur, and as Monica explained about the report, she again looked up at Mulder. This time, he met her fearful look with one of his

own.

"Just what is this report about?" Mulder asked, his voice husky. Bellefleur. Their first case together. Their last case together. The place Mulder had been abducted.

Doggett sighed. "A woman was found murdered in her home two days ago. She was stabbed in the back of the neck. Her twenty-month-old baby was taken from the home, apparently by the killer or killers, and they are still looking for the boy."

"It was Theresa Hoese, wasn't it?" Scully's voice was shaky, and she immediately cleared her throat after asking the question, as if that would help her voice steady.

"Yes," Monica confirmed. "She went to the police over two weeks ago, telling them she felt her baby was in danger. That someone was after the child." She glanced down, a frown settling on her face. "They didn't believe her. They said she had been...acting more than a little odd after she returned from Absolom's camp in Montana. She had been living with her mother, Wendy Nemman, who was not at home the night of the attack." She looked up again, and Scully recognized the glow in the other woman's eyes. She had seen it often in

Mulder's at the beginning of a new case. "They feel pretty bad now, of course."

"Now, there is most likely no connection between what happened here and what happened last year," Doggett started to say.

Mulder interrupted. "Like Hell, there isn't!" Will frowned up at his father, not liking the anger in his voice. "Theresa knew something. That baby was taken for a reason." He looked down at his own son, and Scully saw the worry in his eyes. "Whatever it is, we need to figure it out."

"Wait a minute. We?" Doggett's tone was incredulous.

Mulder turned his attention to the agent now in charge of his X-Files. "You're going out to Oregon, I presume?"

Doggett looked at Monica, who gave him a slight nod. "Yeah. I guess we are."

"Then I'm coming with you."

*****

From the moment Agent Doggett and his partner stepped on board a plane in D.C., and all through the three hour flight to Chicago, the one and one half hour layover there, and the

nearly four and one half hours of flight time to Portland, he had been more than aware of the tall, dark haired man following them. Now, as they drove southward in their rental car, he looked in the rearview mirror and saw the other rental shadowing them.

"Wish I could lose him," he said softly.

Monica didn't even look up from the book she was reading or ask who he was talking about. "Why don't you?"

"Scully would kill me," he told her. "It would probably be impossible to do, anyway." Whatever negative feelings he had for Mulder, Doggett had long ago admitted to himself that the man had been one hell of an agent. A little impetuous at times, more than a little apt to bend the rules. But Fox Mulder's mind was sharp and his knowledge of subterfuge and evasion was on par with the best spies in the business. Doggett doubted he had lost much of his expertise in the past year.

"Why didn't you let him travel with us, then?" Reyes asked.

"It was his idea to 'tag along'," Doggett said with a grimace. "So, he can do just that." He looked over at his partner and friend, only to see her frowning. "Hey! He didn't argue. He knows how much trouble we could get into if we allow a civilian to become part of an official investigation. Especially if they find out who that civilian is."

Reyes nodded. "I guess. Still...it seems so rude. It almost feels like we're driving along in a model-T while Henry Ford himself is being forced to follow in a horse drawn carriage."

"Well, in this case, Ford gave up that Model-T because he didn't want it to endanger his wife and son."

Reyes was quiet for a while. "You think that's the real reason he's been so content to let us run the X-Files?" she asked. "Because he thinks if he gets involved again, it will only put Will in danger?"

Doggett shrugged. "I honestly don't know, Monica." He glanced in the mirror again. "All I know is that he and Scully seemed to think Will wasn't in any danger right after Billy Miles and his...friends...left you guys alone the night of his birth, and now they seem worried again." He paused. "Maybe they should be worried."

"Yesterday you didn't think Mrs. Hoese's death had anything to do with Mulder," Monica reminded him.

Doggett didn't answer. He wasn't going to explain that it wasn't that he hadn't thought there was a connection. It was that he hadn't wanted there to be a connection.

But, what if...?

He shook his head. The last six months of his life had been very interesting. He and Reyes worked well together, and they had managed the X-Files satisfactorily. Doggett had even begun to respect and trust in Reyes' 'feelings'; they had gotten him out of more than one mess in recent history. He often called on Scully to help by doing an autopsy or to get her medical opinion on a case. And Reyes had, from time to time, met with Mulder to get his view on a certain subject. He also knew that both Reyes and Skinner had been to Scully's apartment from time to time for dinner or to baby-sit Will. But he had rarely seen either of Will's parents outside of a professional setting.

Despite this, he still felt a certain protectiveness over Scully...and Will. The child, whom he rarely ever got to see, was special to him. He didn't know if it was because he had been able to watch him grow while he was still in his mother's womb, or simply because the boy had grabbed his heart when Doggett had first seen him in the hospital six months ago. It didn't matter. He knew he would do everything in his power to keep William Fox Mulder safe. And if little Raymond Hoese II's kidnapping had any connection to Will, Doggett was going to find it.

It wasn't long before they pulled into Bellefleur. It was a nice looking little town, but it's small population had decreased significantly since the incident last year when two of the counties best deputies had disappeared and one of the department's detectives had been found dead in the trunk of his vehicle. Doggett shook his head. Not the kind of place you would want to settle down and raise your kids, that's for sure.

He pulled to a stop in front of the Sheriff's Office, noticing the odd looks he and his partner were receiving from a couple of middle-aged women standing on a nearby street corner. Glancing at Monica, he noticed that she, too, had seen the women, and was frowning back at them. "Looks like strangers aren't very welcome around here," he said as he unbuckled his seat belt. He cast a quick glance in the rearview mirror. Mulder had parked behind them.

"With all that's happened in this town, I'd be surprised if they didn't look at outsiders with a little trepidation," Monica responded, opening her door and slipping out onto the

street.

Doggett followed suit, then looked back at Mulder, who was already walking toward them. The faint, autumn sunlight flashed off the former agents sunglasses as he grinned at

Doggett. "Well," he said, placing his hands on his hips. "Fancy meeting you here, Agent Doggett."

"Muldah, shut up," Doggett growled, then headed for the entrance to the Sheriff's Office. But not before he noticed the grins Mulder and Monica shared before following him.

Once inside the building, Doggett turned to the other man. "Now remember, you're here to observe, NOT ask questions."

"Yes, sir, Agent, sir," Mulder said. Doggett could tell he was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

"Hey, this is serious," Doggett said softly.

Mulder's expression darkened. "You think I'd be here if I didn't know that, Agent Doggett?"

With a grimace, Doggett turned toward the admissions desk. Damn, this was gonna be a long day.

*****

The day had already been long, and it wasn't nearly over yet. Mulder grimaced, then rubbed his forehead, where a tension headache had been teasing him since Chicago. He had

spent years flying from city to city around the country, but it had been several months now since he had been on a plane. He had never minded traveling before, but at the moment, he hated it. He would like nothing better than to be back home, doing his best to make both Scully and their son laugh.

Why the hell had he come here, then? he asked himself. Because Theresa Hoese had been killed and her baby had been taken. Theresa Hoese. Who, like him, had been abducted, tested on, and left for dead, only to be saved by a different kind of miracle than the one that saved him. Theresa Hoese, whose son could very well be as special as he knew his own son was. He suddenly itched to grab his cell phone and call home again, even though he had just talked to Scully not thirty minutes ago. Even though Skinner and the Gunmen had promised they would help look after his family while he was gone.

As if they could do anything to stop someone like Billy Miles if the replicant came calling.

He shook his head to try and rid himself of this thought, and only increased the intensity of the throbbing behind his temples. With a sigh, he concentrated on the words being spoken between the two FBI agents and the deputy they were questioning.

No, they had no leads on the missing child's whereabouts. No, they had no idea who could have killed Mrs. Hoese or why. She was stabbed in the back of the neck with a thin, metallic object, possibly an ice pick, but the weapon itself hadn't been found. Yes, she had had various bruises, proving that there had indeed been a struggle. The only blood found

at the scene had been identified as the victims.

Mulder felt a strong pressure in his chest, and as the questions continued it became nearly unbearable. He was about to speak when Reyes asked the very question he had been about to vocalize. "Has there been any bloodwork done on Mrs. Hoese? Toxicology? That sort of thing?"

Mulder took a deep breath and looked over at the brunette, his eyes wide. She glanced at him and winked, then looked at the Deputy again, awaiting an answer.

"No," the young man answered. "No, I don't believe the ME thought it was necessary."

"Do you think it's possible to do so now?" Reyes continued. Mulder noticed Doggett looking at his partner with his brow furrowed. Just like Scully used to look at him when he went

off on a tangent she didn't understand. He felt the corner of his mouth quirk in amusement.

The deputy looked confused. "I don't see why not," he said. "But--"

"Don't worry," Reyes continued. "It may be a long shot, but it may answer a few questions we have, too."

Mulder sidled up to Reyes' back and said softly over her shoulder, "You might want to make sure some of those blood samples get to Quantico."

She turned and smiled at him. "I was just thinking the same thing."

With a smirk of his own, Mulder replied, "Spooky," and backed away.

Several minutes later, Mulder followed his companions back out into the street. As he expected, Doggett turned on him almost immediately. Unexpectedly, he included Reyes in his angry speech.

"Would one of you please tell me what the Hell that was about?" He glared at Reyes. "Bloodwork? Why?" He looked back at Mulder. "And you want Scully to look at it. Any

particular reason?"

"So we get an honest answer," Mulder said without hesitation. "I don't know about you, but I don't trust anyone in this county."

"And just what do you think she's going to find?" Doggett asked, a little calmer now that he appeared to be getting answers. "What are you looking for?"

Mulder looked at Reyes, who shrugged and answered with a look that clearly said, 'you tell him.'

Mulder took a deep breath. "Theresa was an abductee. She had been since her senior year in high school. She had the same anomalous brain activity that I had, which was the reason

she was taken again--"

Doggett interrupted him. "Yeah, but you don't have it anymore. And neither did she. Not since your...return."

Mulder stood silent.

Doggett's brow furrowed. "You don't, do you?"

Was that actually fear in John Doggett's eyes? Mulder wondered. If it was, it certainly wasn't for him. Most likely, it was for Scully. Doggett knew better than anyone, even Skinner, what kind of tortures Scully had lived through while Mulder had been missing.

"Not the way it was before my abduction," Mulder said softly. "But..." He stopped and looked at Reyes imploringly.

The young woman faced Doggett. "He's becoming a telepath. He's getting stronger and stronger all the time. In fact, even I could hear him in there." She nodded back toward the building behind them. "And his immunity to certain illnesses is...well..."

"Out of this world?" Mulder finished when she couldn't. "At least, that's what Scully calls it."

Doggett's eyes swept back and forth between them. "You're joking. Right?"

"I need to know if Theresa was facing the same thing. If her bloodwork shows she has the same abnormally high titers that I do..." He stopped again, this time looking at the ground.

"What?" Doggett demanded.

"Will is even more immune to disease than I am. He's never been sick a day in his life." He paused, then continued, looking Doggett firmly in the eye. "And his powers of telepathy are extraordinary, though not quite in control, yet, since he's still too young to manage them. Apparently, he got these traits from me. If Theresa's son has the same talents, and he was taken because of them, then Will could be next."

Doggett began shaking his head in confusion. "But, if Will and this other kid are so special, why wait to take them now?"

"That's something I haven't figured out, yet," Mulder said softly.

Doggett glared at him. "You left Scully and your son--"

"I left them under guard," Mulder interrupted. "They're as safe as they can be." He turned away from them and headed toward his car. "But if we don't find out the 'why' and the 'who' soon, there may be no way anybody can protect them." He looked back at them as he opened his door. "So, Agents, I suggest we get cracking."

*****

When Mulder had first moved in with Scully, her apartment had been immaculate; Scully was, by nature, an organized person who demanded order from herself and those around her. Since Mulder had become part of the 'household', things had changed. Not that he didn't keep things clean. He did. Or at least, he tried to. But Scully was actually anxious to have Mulder away for the first time in months so she could get down and do a thorough top to bottom cleaning without him looking over her shoulder saying, "Scully, it's already clean. Why are you scrubbing so hard?"

How could she explain to him her compulsive need to make sure everything was spotless, she asked herself as she set out to make the bathtub sparkle? Of course, he probably

already knew. That was the problem with living with a telepath.

They had first realized what was happening to him shortly after Will's birth, when Mulder kept waking up just before the baby, mumbling how he needed to be changed or he was hungry. At first, Scully didn't think much of it; those first few months had been a tangle of emotions intermingled with very little sleep. But when Mulder said, "Ow! Scully! That hurts!" when she accidentally pinched Will's tender skin under the buckle of his car seat, and Mulder had been putting things in the trunk, unable to see into the back seat, they both began to wonder.

Two MRI's and a CAT scan later, Scully had been only slightly relieved to find no abnormalities that could be construed as dangerous. But abnormalities existed. And though they never put Will through the tests, they knew he had been 'blessed' with these talents, too. He just didn't know how to use them very well, yet, and was easily distracted, which was how Scully was able to enter the apartment without either of them noticing the other day. She smiled to herself as she scrubbed. Which meant Mulder was easily distracted, too.

Usually, he was able to sense her presence before she even entered the room. And he was getting better and better at hearing her thoughts, though she was able to close her mind

to him when she felt him delving. "No sneaking into my mind when I don't want you there, Fox Mulder," she once told him with a frown. Of course, when he was asleep, she had no real control, and Scully had had more than a few interesting...mostly erotic...dreams that she was sure were not just hers alone. Too bad he hadn't figured out a way to vanquish her nightmares, though he had told her once the images she saw were eerily similar to the nightmare visions he had during the dreamstate he had escaped to when Cancer Man had literally been playing with his brain.

The thought of the old man caused a shiver to run up her backbone. She had heard he was dead. Skinner had witnessed his burial himself. But it had been less than a year since they had watched Mulder's casket, with his body inside, lowered into a grave. So, Scully took this news with a grain of salt. CGB Spender had been involved directly with whatever the aliens had planned; there was no guarantee he had stayed dead.

Scully sat back on her heels and glanced out the bathroom door, listening carefully for the sounds of her mother and Will in the living room. Being Saturday, her mother was spending the day with her grandson. Margaret Scully had already asked where Mulder was, and had kept her other questions to herself when Scully had answered simply, "Out of town." She also didn't ask questions about the Volkswagen van parked in the street by the apartment building, with three familiar faces inside keeping their eyes on her apartment window.

Her bodyguards.

Amazingly enough, she did feel safe with the Gunmen watching her and Will in Mulder's absence. She knew they would willingly die for the baby if need be. And perhaps for her,

as well.

Skinner had taken his turn watching her in the past three days, often spending hours in the apartment playing with Will. His surveillance, combined with his stressful, busy job at the Bureau, left the AD exhausted. Scully commented that he shouldn't use so much of his off time to watch her; he wasn't getting any younger. His only response, other than the beet red color his face turned, had been a glare and a stiff-legged walk out of her apartment and back down to his car, where he sat, watching, until the Gunmen relieved him

around 1 AM.

She was anxious for Mulder to call, again, if only to tell her they had caught the psychopath that had killed Theresa Hoese and kidnapped her baby. To tell her there was no connection between the crime and their son. But she was beginning to think that would never happen, especially since she had taken a close look at Theresa's bloodwork and a recent MRI taken only two months ago after the young mother had complained about severe migraines. She, like Mulder, had been having a resurgence of extraordinary brain activity. And if the notes taken from the child psychologist who had been treating Ray Hoese Jr. were anything to go by, the toddler was as special as her own Will.

A knock at the front door grabbed her attention. With a groan, she got up off the floor, wincing at the pain in her knees. Skinner wasn't the only one who wasn't getting any younger. Quickly, she made her way into the living room. Her mother, with Will propped on her hip, was looking out the peephole. She turned to face her daughter as Scully entered

the room.

"It's Mr. Skinner," she said. "He has a couple of women with him that I don't recognize."

Scully's eyebrows rose as she took her mother's place in front of the door. Sure enough, it was Skinner. And she could just make out two women off to the side of her area of vision. Carefully, she opened the door, but didn't undo the chain. "Yes?" she asked politely.

"Scully," Skinner replied. "It's just me. Wondering if I could borrow a cup of sugar."

Scully couldn't help but smile as Skinner recited the phrase that told her all was well. Frohike had come up with it, of course. She closed the door, unclasped the chain, and opened it, allowing the Assistant Director and the two women to enter. She did not know either of them.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Though Skinner was no longer her boss, and both Scully and Mulder called him a friend, she automatically reverted to the 'sir' when others were present.

"I thought you should talk to these two ladies," he told her. "They have information that might be of great importance to both you and Mulder."

Scully looked at the women. Neither of them were very old. One had blonde hair, was of moderate height (which was still taller than Scully), and looked to be in her early forties.

The other was a tall, leggy brunette. She was in her late twenties, and quick intelligence flashed in her light brown eyes.

The blonde began speaking. "We're sorry to intrude on you like this, Agent Scully," she said, her voice husky. "But when we heard about what happened to Mrs. Hoese, we knew we

had to act."

Scully folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. She glanced at Skinner, whose expression had yet to change since he had entered the room, then back at her mother, who was still

holding Will. Her baby's bright hazel eyes were staring intently at the two women, as if he was trying to figure them out. Scully looked back at them as well.

"Who are you?"

The blonde spoke again. She nodded to the taller woman. "This is Dr. Susan Donohue. She's a pediatrician who recently set up practice here in DC." She laid her hand flat on her upper chest. "My name is Greta Olsen. I'm a Registered Nurse working part time at Georgetown." She sighed. "We are both employed by an acquaintance of yours."

"Who?" Though she didn't look directly at him, Scully saw Skinner tense out of the corner of her eye.

"CGB Spender."

Suddenly, Will began to cry.

*****

"Are you sure this is the man?"

Mulder controlled the urge to groan in frustration. Why couldn't Doggett just admit that the old man knew what he was talking about? It was so obvious Wilmer Conner recognized the man in the photo Doggett was holding up if only because he had known the subject for years.

"Of course, I'm sure," the old fart grunted. "I've known that boy since he was knee high."

Mulder glanced at Monica, who was looking at him with laughter in her eyes. He could hear her clearly in his head. *Do people still talk like this?*

He smiled slightly in response, then brought his attention back to Doggett. For some reason, the normally competent agent seemed to be out of his element today. Though Mulder could read Monica's thoughts when she projected, he knew she couldn't read his very well, even when he wanted her to. Still, she must have known by his expression what he was thinking, because she took over the questioning from her partner.

"Mr. Conner, no one is denying that you knew this man," she began. "I think what Agent Doggett is trying to ask is whether or not you're positive it was this man or someone who looked very much like him." She sent an apologetic glance toward Doggett, which Mulder didn't think he deserved, then turned back to the old man. "Even Mr. Mulder here could be mistaken for this man from the back."

Wilmer shook his head, the small amount of white hair still on his head moving in the faint breeze he created. "Nope. I didn't see him from the back. I saw him from the front. Walking toward me. And God help me, all I wanted to do was run. I know what they say happened to him." He turned pale blue eyes toward Mulder. "And to you." He shrugged. "But you ain't got the look in your eyes that he had."

"What kind of look?" Mulder asked softly.

"Evil," the old man gasped. "Pure evil." He shuddered visibly. "He and Mr. and Mrs. Hoese and so many others were taken. And Mrs. Hoese, she came back. But she was never the same. She was so scared. Scared for her baby." He glared at Doggett. "And there he was. That boy. I always liked him, even though I thought he was a little nuts, you know? But, not this time." he shook his head again. "This time, I knew he had an agenda, and he planned on fulfilling it, come Hell or high water."

Mulder opened his mouth to ask another question, but an icy glare from Doggett stopped him from speaking. Mulder glanced at Monica again, only to see her hide a smile. She really

seemed to be enjoying the by-play between the two of them, even if it was nasty. Maybe especially when it was nasty.

"Did you talk to him at all?" Doggett asked, turning back to face the old man. "Did he say anything to you?"

"No, no," Wilmer said, shaking his head yet again. *He's gonna get dizzy if he keeps that up,* Mulder thought. Monica snorted softly. "Didn't even look at me. And that boy was usually so polite, especially when he was working with the Sheriff's Department."

"Why didn't you tell us this before now, Mr. Conner?" Doggett continued. *Now we're getting somewhere,* Mulder projected, ignoring Monica's answering glare. "We've been in

town for three days now."

Wilmer shrugged. "Didn't really associate him with Mrs. Hoese's death until last night."

Mulder felt his lip twist in disbelief and he knew the two agents must be feeling the same thing.

"Really?" Doggett said, sarcasm under control...for now. "You knew they were both... abductees," he seemed to have a hard time saying the word, "but you didn't associate his

return with Mrs. Hoese's death?" He shifted forward in his seat. "I find that hard to believe, Mr. Conner."

The old man's eyes shifted nervously. "Well...maybe I just didn't want to get involved. I mean, if he could kill a woman he's been friends with since childhood, what's to keep him from killing the old man that used to live down the street from him?"

"Yet," Mulder said, ignoring Doggett's warning look, "you did come to us. What changed your mind?"

Wilmer sighed. "I'm old. I ain't got much time left anyway. And I kept thinking about that baby." He looked at Mulder, his eyes sad. "That poor child. What's he gonna do with that

poor child? I mean, it's not like he don't have a child of his own. What's he need with Mrs. Hoese's?"

Mulder's eyes met Doggett's startled ones, then they both looked at Monica. She sat, mouth agape, as shocked as they.

Mulder stood and began to assist Wilmer up from his chair and out of the room. "Mr. Conner, we can't thank you enough for your help."

"You're gonna find that baby, aren't you?" the old man asked. "You're gonna help that little boy?"

"We're going to do our best," Mulder said softly, then ushered him out of the room. Carefully, he closed the door, then turned to face the two agents, leaning heavily against

the wooden frame behind him.

"Well."

"Yeah," Monica agreed. "Well."

"A kid?" Doggett whispered. "How come we never knew about a kid before?"

"Looks like we better find the ex-Mrs. Billy Miles," Mulder said in reply. "I know I have some questions for her. How about you guys?"

*****

"Not possible," Scully heard herself say, surprised at the sandpaper quality her voice had taken and wondering if anyone had even heard her over Will's incessant wailing.

Her women visitors looked a bit discomfited, but they both stood their ground.

Scully sank to the edge of the couch, taking deep breaths, trying to clear her mind. But her son's anger and fear were palpable, and his cries distracting. She looked up at Maggie. "Mom?"

Mrs. Scully didn't even hesitate. "Come on, Will. Let's get you changed and ready for your nap." She turned toward the bedroom, and soon the baby's cries were muffled behind the

closed door.

Scully faced the women again. "He's dead," she said firmly, directing her words to the blonde. Greta.

"No, he's not," she said in reply. "Though it was touch and go for a while." She smiled slightly, and Scully was amazed to see what appeared to be affection in the woman's eyes.

"He's even getting stronger now. And 'they' know it."

"They?" Scully glanced at Skinner, who was still standing motionless near the front door.

"The aliens, Agent Scully," the brunette, Susan, said. "When the replicants first came, they had no leader, no orders. They were running on instinct, doing everything in their power to insure their creators' survival." She grimaced. "Which meant eliminating anything or anyone that was a serious threat to the colonists."

"Colonists?" Scully scoffed. "Is that what they call themselves?"

Susan offered her a thin smile. "Just as the English and Spaniards called themselves 'colonists' before decimating the native populations of the Americas."

'Good point,' Scully thought, but she said nothing. "So, what do these replicants have to do with Spender?" She was barely able to spit out the man's name.

"He's their new leader," Greta said, pride in her voice.

Scully couldn't help it. She laughed. Loudly.

Greta frowned. Susan looked as if she was trying not to laugh along with Scully.

Taking a deep breath, Scully controlled herself. "This is supposed to make me feel better?" she asked, her anger growing. "These 'colonists' are bad enough, now they're

being controlled by the Devil. That is supposed to make me feel better?"

"If you want to keep your son safe, yes," Greta answered, anger coating her voice. "Why do you think they spared your son?"

Scully felt a chill run up her back. Shortly after Will's birth, she had posed that very question to Mulder. "Maybe he's not what they thought he was," had been his answer. But

when Will's talents had become obvious to them both, the question had presented itself to them once again, though they never spoke it outright. "I...I don't know."

"Because Spender told them to," Susan said, her eyes sad. "He wanted the boy protected. He wants them all protected."

Scully looked at the young doctor. "All? You mean, like Theresa Hoese's son?"

Susan nodded. "Your son isn't the first, despite what others may have said. But he is the most powerful, the most perfect of them all." She folded her arms and moved to the other end of the couch. With a sigh, she sat down and turned to look at Scully. "There are ten of them, eight boys and two girls. All born to abductees who had been tested on and who had

been exposed to the vaccines that Spender and the others were working on. The combination was incredible. It mutates the DNA of the individuals, making them unique, making them--"

"More human than human," Scully whispered, remembering Krycek's words from six months earlier. "But Theresa wasn't given the vaccine," she argued.

"Yes, she was," Susan explained. "She and others in Bellefleur were given it instead of the flu vaccine more than two years ago. Without their knowledge, or course." She sounded bitter.

"But Spender has somehow 'talked' these replicants into protecting the children?" Scully asked. "Why? And how?"

"By convincing them the children could be the beginnings of a new, wonderful race. One that the colonists could use to advance their own race."

"A slave race, you mean?"

"No," Susan shook her head. "That's what humans are for." She looked down at her hands, which she had folded in her lap. "These children are special. They have high IQ's, immunities to any and all terrestrial disease, abilities not even the Grays have. Spender convinced the Grays that these children are prophets. Sent by a God the Grays abandoned

long ago."

Scully felt her jaw drop. "You mean he started a new religion among the aliens?!"

Susan smiled slightly. "Yes. And your son is their new Messiah."

Scully shook her head in disbelief. "He conned them," she whispered. Eyes flashing, she looked back at the woman next to her. "You didn't tell me why he wants to protect them."

"That's simple," Greta answered. "He knows these children, if they survive, can indeed destroy the aliens." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "His 'con', as you

call it, could fall apart at any moment...but he's holding it together using his own reputation and charisma."

Cancer man? Charisma? Right.

"If these replicants are protecting the children you speak of, and Theresa Hoese's child is one of them, then why was she killed? Her child taken?"

Susan looked sad at the mention of Theresa. "She had become a danger to her child. She was beginning to understand and fear her little boy's power, and was contemplating ending

his life, and hers, in order to 'save' him. We couldn't let that happen."

"You had her under such close surveillance that you knew what she was planning?" Scully said, incredulous.

"Yes," Greta said. "There were Grays in Bellefleur who were in contact with little Ray through telepathy. The boy let them know what his mother was thinking." She folded her arms and gave Scully a not so friendly grin. "They're watching you, too."

"But they can't reach your son," Susan added, as if trying to soothe Scully's suddenly pounding heart. "His father is always in some kind of loose contact with him, and the Grays

risk alerting him to their presence if they try and communicate with the baby." Her grin was much friendlier than Greta's. "They're afraid of Mulder. He came away from his 'experience' very powerful. After all, they didn't plan on having one of their replacements survive intact."

This comforted Scully only a little. "Why are you telling me this?"

"We were hoping you could call off your boyfriend," Greta said. "Call off the investigation in Oregon."

Scully closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I think I know why you're involved," she said, opening her eyes and looking at Greta. "Your loyalty to Spender is very clear." She looked at Susan. "But what about you? How did you get involved?"

Susan flushed slightly, then she looked Scully straight in the eye. "My son is one of those children," she whispered. "I'm Billy Miles' ex-wife."

*****

It was close to midnight when Mulder finally made it home. He was tired, frustrated and stressed, especially since his last conversation with Scully just before he left Oregon. She had told him she had some new information about the case he was working on and she wanted him back home. Since he and his companions were having no luck finding Susan Miles, Mulder agreed, leaving Doggett and Reyes in Portland to continue their search.

He was anxious to get back, not because of the information Scully said she had, but because he had never been away from her and their son this long before and he was finding it a lot more difficult than he could ever have imagined. The cab that took him from the airport to his home couldn't move fast enough for him.

Finally, he was there. He paid off the cabby, then turned and headed for the front doors of the apartment complex, suitcases in hand. A woman he had never seen before was also

heading up the walk. She looked at him, and her eyes narrowed in recognition. "Mr. Mulder?"

Mulder stopped in front of the door, using the bright security light to help him see the woman better. She was tall, with dark brown, almost black, hair. Not model-beautiful, but a girl-next-door type of woman. Her eyes were expressive, but he couldn't really judge their

color in the unnatural light they stood in. "Do I know you?"

"No, but I know you."

Damn, he hated that response. "Yeah, well, so does the President, but I'm sure he wishes he didn't." Though the current Chief of State had never contacted him directly, his past exploits had attracted the man's attention, as well as the attention of his predecessor. It wasn't a good thing, in Mulder's mind.

The woman smiled at his response, and he began to amend the girl-next-door thought; as friendly as she looked, this woman could be dangerous. "My name is Susan Donahue." She

glanced at the apartment. "Agent Scully called me after you called her at the airport. She wanted us to talk."

Mulder felt his brow furrow. "You have information?"

"A great deal of it," she said, her smile not as bright as before. "In fact, you've been looking for me, knowing I can give you answers, though I bet I have more than you ever

suspected."

Mulder's brain finished the connection. "You're Susan Miles."

She nodded, her smile gone. "I was married to Bill, yes. I changed back to my maiden name after the divorce." Again, she looked toward the apartment. "Should we go inside? I'm

sure you're anxious to see your family."

He felt a shiver run up his spine...but it wasn't a shiver of dread. It was one of pure pleasure. Family. His family. He nodded to Donahue and headed into the building, allowing

her to open doors for him as he was still carrying his luggage.

Scully stood in the open door of their apartment when they reached it. Her face conveyed her mixed emotions. Happiness at his return. Nervousness about his reaction to Donahue.

Fear. About what, he wasn't too sure. As usual, she had closed herself off to him, and he wasn't about to push, mentally or verbally. He would know why she was afraid soon enough.

He knew Will was sleeping before he even entered the apartment, so he kept his footsteps light as he carried his bags into the bedroom, setting them down carefully in front of the closet. He would worry about unpacking later. Before returning to the living room where he had left Scully and Donahue, he walked over to the crib and looked down at his son. The little boy was sleeping soundly, his dreams a blur of light and color, as they always were. Only tonight, a darkness swelled around the outer edges of the baby's consciousness. It disturbed Mulder. With a heavy sigh, he turned and left the room.

Donahue was sitting stiffly on the couch when he entered the living room, and Scully was just returning from the kitchen with two cups of fresh coffee. She handed one to Mulder, the other one to Donahue, then sat empty handed in the recliner. His chair. The only addition they had made to Scully's already established furniture arrangement after he moved in. He moved to sit on the other end of the sofa, trying to catch Scully's eye. Trying to decipher her emotions. He could do neither.

"So," he said instead, turning his body to face Donahue as he sat. "We've established that you used to be married to Billy Miles," he told her. "And, if what we discovered in Bellefleur is true, you are the mother of his child, as well. Is this true?"

Donahue nodded. "I have a son, Wesley. I legally changed his name to Donahue after Billy was abducted last year. I didn't feel he needed the attention that his father brought."

"How old is he?" Scully asked. Mulder glanced at her, relieved to see that she had relaxed. Apparently, it wasn't Donahue herself that Scully was afraid of.

"He's almost two," Donahue responded. "He's the oldest."

Mulder, who had turned to face the brunette again, cocked his head. "The oldest? You have other children?"

Donahue shook her head. "No. They're not mine. I only care for them."

"How many are in your care?" Scully asked. Mulder again looked at her. She had to have seen the question in his eyes, but she ignored it.

"Four of them. Either abandoned by their parents or..."

Mulder's mind swirled. "Is Ray Hoese Jr. one of them?" His voice was dark. This woman did indeed know more than was expected.

Donahue paused, glancing down at the cup in her hands. She had yet to take a drink from it. She licked her lips nervously, then looked at him again. "Not yet. But he will be before the week is out."

Mulder felt his whole body turn cold. "Then you must know that your ex-husband is the prime suspect in Theresa Hoese's death."

"My ex-husband is dead, Mr. Mulder." Her voice had strengthened. "He died, just as you did, almost a year ago. Only he didn't come back." She stood suddenly, setting the cup down on the coffee table in front of her. "Mr. Mulder, I am here only because Dana asked me to come. It's not dangerous for me to tell you or her these things, but it's not something I'm supposed to do, either. Spender doesn't mind if you know what's going on, but he doesn't want your FBI friends involved, so--"

"Spender?!" Mulder also set his cup down and stood. "Cancer Man?!" He swung around to look at Scully, who had gone pale, but hadn't moved. Now he knew what she was afraid of. And now he recognized the darkness that surrounded his son's dreams. He faced Donahue again, anger and hatred filling him to the core. "You work for him, don't you?" he growled.

"You..."

"Mulder!" Scully, recognizing the danger in Mulder's behavior, stood and grasped his arm lightly. "Please, Mulder! Listen to what she has to say."

Without taking his eyes off Donahue, he sat back down onto the couch. Scully, in order to keep contact with him, sat down on the arm, her hand firm on his shoulder.

The younger woman didn't sit. Nervously, she began to pace. "I knew I shouldn't have come here. He knew we would be able to reason with Dana, but not you. He said he would have to

talk to you alone." She stopped and turned to face them. "He needs your help, Mr. Mulder."

Mulder snorted. "Yeah, right." He felt Scully's hand squeeze his shoulder. She opened to him a bit, and while her fear was powerful, her trust in this woman was also strong. Not

absolute. But strong.

"Susan," she said softly. "Why don't you tell Mulder what you told me this morning? Then, we'll go from there."

*****

Scully sighed and turned over in bed...again. It was probably the tenth time she had done so since she had climbed into it shortly after Susan left. Mulder still hadn't joined her. Lifting her head slightly, she took note of the time glaring out at her in bright red numerals from the alarm clock. 3:43. Her eyes darted to the bedroom door, which stood open. The hallway beyond was dark, and she knew the living room would be as well. But Mulder wasn't sleeping. She had felt the subtle probe of his mind more than once since she had gone to bed. He was waiting for her to sleep; she was easier to 'read' then.

With another heavy sigh, she threw off the blankets and slid out of the bed. Not bothering with a robe or slippers, she padded out of the room and down the hall. The city lights shone through the far window, allowing her to see him clearly. He was stretched out on the couch, his arms folded behind his head. She could see the whites of his eyes as he

glanced her way, then he continued his contemplation of the ceiling above him.

She stood silent for a while, then she moved to the end of the couch by his head and looked down at him. "Are you coming to bed?" she whispered. "Or are you reverting to your

old ways?"

"If that was the case, the TV would be on," he replied softly.

"Good point." She leaned over him, catching his eye. "So?"

"I'm not really sleepy," he said, closing his eyes in order to avoid making contact with hers.

"Mulder." Her voice was stern. The voice of FBI Agent Scully when she was ticked off with her partner.

He didn't open his eyes, but the corners of his mouth turned upward. "Yes, Scully?"

"Come to bed," she said, softening her voice in response to the softening of his expression. "I promise you won't regret it."

Warily, he opened his eyes. "I thought you were mad at me."

Scully stood straight, forcing Mulder to tilt his head up to keep looking at her. The angle was obviously uncomfortable for him, so he sat up and turned to face her instead. "Mad at you?" Scully said, confusion evident in her voice. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"Because of what I'm doing tomorrow," Mulder said without hesitation. He had agreed to accompany Susan to meet with the Smoking Man tomorrow afternoon.

Scully had been none too thrilled with the idea of the meeting, but she also knew it was necessary. "What else can you do, Mulder?" she asked him. "Our son's future lies in the hands of one man. You need to find out how you – how we -- can change that."

"We could always run," Mulder told her, his voice unsteady.

"To where?" Scully responded, her throat tightening. "Some place they can't find us?" She closed her eyes and laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Please, tell me where that might be."

She opened her eyes to see Mulder staring at the floor. "So, you're not mad at me?"

Scully laughed again, only this time there was more amusement in it. "Oh, Mulder. How long have you known me? You, of all people, should be able to tell the difference between when I'm mad at you and when I'm scared for you."

Mulder stood suddenly. "But that's just it, Scully. You close yourself off so tight to me sometimes, that I can't tell the difference." He walked up to her and cradled her face in his hands. "After all this time together, why can't you let me in?"

Scully felt tears gather, but she ignored them. She bit her lower lip, then met his eyes with her own. "Maybe because I'm afraid that if I do, and something happens to either one

of us, the other won't be able to go on. I don't want that to happen, Mulder. It scares me." She pulled away from him. "I remember how I was when I thought you were dead. How dead I was." She looked at him again. "Only the baby kept me going."

"Do you believe in God, Scully?"

The question startled her. She frowned. "You know I do."

"Then you believe in Heaven, right? An afterlife of some sort?"

She nodded.

Mulder grinned and stepped close to her once more. "Then you have nothing to worry about. We'll always be together." His eyebrows rose in question. "Unless you're convinced that I’m not going to Heaven."

Scully sighed and began to smile through her tears. "Mulder --"

He wrapped his arms around her, interrupting her. "I know, Scully. I know." She buried her face in his chest and felt it expand as he breathed in deep. "When you were sick with cancer, the idea of losing you, of being alone, was the worst torture I could ever have imagined. So, I understand what you're afraid of." He leaned back and looked down at her. "But we're alive now, Scully. Why not live? Really live?"

"Live like there's no tomorrow?" she asked wryly.

"No," he responded. "Live like tonight is the beginning of forever."

She gave him a sad smile, then brought her arms up to wrap them around his neck. "Well, if that's the case...come to bed, Mulder. Teach me how to live."

"First you've got to let me in."

A tingle of fear swept through her. As well as a shiver of sweet anticipation. "Okay."

*****

Mulder heard Scully's whispered 'okay', but he didn't really believe it. He knew how hard it was for her to let go of her emotions, much less her mind. He smiled anyway and began

backing toward the bedroom; he'd take what he could get.

But Scully stopped him before he got too far. "Let's stay out here," she whispered. "I don't want to have to worry about waking Will."

Mulder frowned. "We never wake Will." Not only did the baby sleep very soundly, but Scully was always so quiet when they made love. There had been exceptions, of course, but those times had been either before the baby was born or when the baby was spending the night with his grandmother.

"You want me to open up to you, don't you?" Her voice was sweet and sultry, and Mulder felt a shiver run up his spine.

"Yes," he said carefully.

"Then we better be prepared for the consequences."

Either she was teasing him, or she meant what she said; she was really going to let him in. He felt his whole being vibrate in anticipation, and the blood in his veins surged to gather in his loins. Slowly, he followed her as she led him to the fireplace.

She let go of his hand and turned toward the hearth. "It's chilly out. We could use a fire."

Mulder was about to make a quip about how the fire in his body should be more than enough to keep them warm, but the idea of making love to this woman with her body glowing in firelight kept him quiet. He moved forward and helped her set the kindling and light the blaze.

Once they were assured it would burn steadily, Scully sank to her knees on the soft rug that sat before the hearth. They had talked about making love here before, but had never

managed to try it. Will, Scully's job, and the day to day trials that made up their life always left them too tired to expand their locations; their bed had always been good enough. But not tonight.

Tonight, Scully's deft fingers made quick work of undoing his jeans, pulling the top button free and sliding the zipper down over the quickly growing bulge underneath. She pulled the denim down his long legs and he obligingly stepped out of them, letting her catch his socks and pull them off when he lifted his feet off the floor. She grasped the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulled them down as well, carefully avoiding the sensitive flesh she exposed.

"Take off your shirt," she said softly without looking up from her 'work'. Mulder, who was pretty sure he knew what she was planning to do, did as she asked. But it wasn't easy because his fingers were trembling. What was about to happen was a fantasy come to life. Not that Scully hadn't touched him many times in the past, but she had only used her mouth on him once: one very memorable night in Los Angeles when they had returned to their hotel after nearly maxing out the Bureau credit card given to them by Skinner. She had been more than a little tipsy at the time and had told him how all her previous boyfriends had made her perform the act, even though she hated it, and how, since Mulder had never asked it of her, she would reward him by going down on him of her own free will. Later, when Mulder had been trying desperately to get his breathing back to normal, he had heard her whisper that she had enjoyed it, too.

But Scully wasn't drunk tonight. As he let his shirt fall to the floor behind him, Mulder looked down at the woman who kneeled in front of him, apparently admiring his attributes

with a small smile on her face. "Uh, Scully?"

"Yes, Mulder?"

'You... ah... don't have to do this."

She looked up at him, her smile widening. "Don't you want it, Mulder?"

"Uh..."

"Tell the truth."

Truth. Right. "Yeah, of course, but not if you aren't enjoying it, too."

She looked back down at his erection, which was now fully engorged and waiting. "I think I might enjoy it. As I recall, the last time I did this to you, I liked it."

"Scully--"

"Mulder, you wanted me to open up to you. I am."

"Scully, doing this for me is not what I meant by opening up to me!"

"Mulder." Scully sounded as if she was getting a bit exasperated. "If you would concentrate long enough to realize I'm trying to let you in, you might understand how much I want to do this."

He had been concentrating so hard on her physically, that he hadn't even thought to open his mind to her. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and 'touched' her. For a second, he ran into the familiar barriers. But suddenly, the door opened, and he was there. With her. In her. In a way he had never been before. Moments later, her mouth surrounded him and her tongue began to swirl along his length. He groaned and sank into the feeling, not just of her actions, but the feelings of pleasure, excitement, and contentment that emanated from her.

With his hands resting on her head, Mulder felt the wonder of knowing that she was as turned on by this activity as he was. That she was thoroughly enjoying, not just the taste

and texture of him, but the thought of driving him mad with passion. And she was. With the combination of his excitement and hers, he felt as if he was losing his mind. And it felt

wonderful.

She was sucking on him now. Hard. He heard a repetitive, almost plaintive groan, and knew it had to be emanating from him. He wanted to be embarrassed, but the knowledge that the sounds he was making only made Scully even more aroused kept him from letting shame take over. "Sc--Scullee?"

"Hmmm...?" she managed to answer, without taking her mouth from him.

"I-- I can-- feel you..." Her hands tightened on his hips as they began to jerk erratically. His fingers tightened around her hair, and he felt pain. Her pain. With a huge effort, he

managed to loosen his grip. "You--you're coming!" 'You'? Didn't he mean 'I'?

With a shout, he came.

And so did she.

Mulder stumbled back away from her. He felt the couch against the back of his legs, but instead of sitting down on it, he slid to the floor. With wide eyes, he stared at his

lover.

She also was gasping for air. She had fallen forward on her hands, and her expression as she looked at him was as astonished as he felt. "What the hell was that?" she demanded.

Weakly, he shrugged. "I guess you do like it."

*****

Scully sat back on her heels, giving Mulder a teasing glare. "Obviously," she whispered, her voice raspy sounding. "But, I..." She stopped, feeling heat spread across her face.

Mulder nodded, a mock serious expression on his face. "I know," he said gruffly. "You did."

Scully looked down at the floor for a moment, then glanced back up at Mulder. "I've never done that before," she told him. "I mean," she quickly amended. "Not without a little

more..."

"Physical stimulation?" Mulder said when she didn't finish.

"Yeah." She took a deep breath, relieved to discover her heartbeat was starting to slow. "Mulder, it was like I could...I don't know...'feel' you." She tapped her head. "In here."

"Like you were reading my mind." It wasn't a question. Mulder had obviously been thinking the same thing.

"How?"

Mulder shrugged. "Try it now."

Scully closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on the man in front of her. She tried to imagine him sitting there, naked, back against the couch, bare legs sprawled in front of him. She felt his mind touch hers, and instinctively wanted to pull back. Instead, she forced herself to relax, and let him in. But she still couldn't sense his thoughts.

Finally, she opened her eyes, frustration filling her. "I know it was your thoughts I felt, Mulder. Women don't think like that during sex. And besides, it was..."

Mulder, who had also closed his eyes, opened them. A silly grin sat on his face. "It was what?" he whispered.

"It was...powerful. Too powerful to be just my feelings alone." She narrowed her eyes at him. "What are you smiling about?"

His smile grew. "You. What I feel from you. What I see in your mind."

"Mulder!"

"Don't, Scully! It's wonderful. Beautiful. Don't shut me out again!"

Her face red again, Scully looked away from him. But, she didn't attempt to stop him from reading her. *It's not fair,* she thought.

"I know," Mulder answered. "But maybe it was our...intense activity...that allowed you to read me." He scooted forward so that she sat, still on her knees, between his long legs. She looked up at him. He was still smiling, but it was a wicked smile now. "Maybe we should try it again, huh?"

She held back a smile of her own. "You sure you're up for it?"

Mulder looked downward, then back up at her. "Well, not at the moment, but I'm sure I will be with a little...encouragement."

Scully smiled, then rose up on her knees in front of him, pulling off her panties. Shifting slightly, she straddled him, carefully seating herself on his extended thighs. He smiled in return and brought his hands up under her sleep shirt to cup her breasts. His thumbs came up and teased her nipples, rubbing them gently at first, then harder. She moaned and leaned into him, bringing her mouth to his. He responded with a passionate kiss, his fingers never slowing their sensuous torture. She felt her hips begin to instinctively rock against him, and was pleased to find that he was already hardening once more. Mulder sometimes claimed he was getting old, but his body sure had a hard time proving this fact to Scully.

With a gasp, she pulled away from his mouth and pulled her shirt up and off, throwing it towards the couch behind Mulder. Lowering her head, she started raining gentle butterfly kisses down his throat and along his sternum. She detoured from her path over to his left nipple, and smiled just before she let her tongue tease it. He moaned her name. Never had she known a man could have such sensitive nipples; she loved it. She moved over to the other one, her hips still rocking against him.

Scully felt his hands slide down her belly and tangle with the curls at the juncture of her legs. She jerked back away from him when he slid a finger into her wet depths. "Mulder!"

"Are you ready, Scully?" he asked, his voice tense. "Because I sure the hell am."

Lifting her head to look at him, she nodded. She felt him part her folds, and then he was there, sliding into her. Every solid inch of him. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing her tingling breasts flush against his chest. She could feel him. Wonderful. And she could feel... "Mulder?"

"I know," he said, a smile in his voice. She opened her eyes to look at him in astonishment. "You can feel what I'm feeling," he continued. "You can read my mind, too."

And she could. His desire. His love. His soft surprise at their union, as if he was amazed it was actually happening. "Do you always feel this way?" she asked.

He looked at her, his brow furrowed. *What do you mean?*

She smiled. *Like you can't believe it's actually happening.*

He looked abashed for a moment. *Can you blame me? After more than seven years of dreaming about it, it's gonna take a while before it hits me that all this is real*

Scully shifted and straightened out her legs so they stretched out behind Mulder. The change in position pushed him in even deeper. They paused for a moment to catch their breath, then Mulder began to gently rock his hips. His movements only allowed a small amount of penetration and withdrawal, but it felt wonderful. And she knew he was enjoying it, too. She started a counter-rhythm with her own hips, then leaned in to kiss him, whispering, "Believe."

"Oh, God!" Mulder gasped. "I do!"

Scully felt the orgasm growing inside her. Slowly. Oh-so wonderfully slow. Building. In her and in him. Their rocking became more frantic. Mulder leaned back suddenly, bracing himself on his elbows. This not only changed his angle of penetration, but allowed him to thrust up into her with more force. The feelings, both his and hers, began to intermingle in her head until she could no longer distinguish between them. "Mulder!" she called.

His only response was to thrust even harder.

It hit her with an incredible force. It stretched through her body, causing the tips of her fingers and toes to go numb, and her whole body to shiver uncontrollably. Bright lights flashed behind her eyes, and the only sound she could hear was that of a heartbeat. She was flying on a wave of pleasure so powerful it was frightening.

And then her own orgasm hit, and she rode another wave, just as powerful but different than the first.

When she finally came to her senses, she found herself sprawled on Mulder's chest, unsure how she had gotten there seeing as her legs had been facing the other way before. She moved her head, finding a more comfortable spot to lay it just above his heart.

*Scully?*

She smiled. *Yeah?*

*Just checking.*

*****

Part 2