Title: Cubed Author: Louise Marin Email: mibosh@earthlink.net Rating: NC-17 (sexual content) Category: S, R, A Keywords: Mulder/Scully UST; Mulder/Scully romance Spoilers: through season six, up to Ghosts Disclaimer: Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, Skinner, Samantha, CSM, and the entire Consortium belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. Not mine! Archive: Yes, please. Just leave my name and email on it, and please let me know so I can come visit. Summary: Scully does a little body-swapping of her own. Can she and Mulder make it back to each other? Do they want to? Author's Note: This story takes place around the middle of season six, but splits off into its own universe sometime before the events of Two Fathers. ONE: January 22, 1999 Approximately 1:30 AM Mulder followed his partner into his apartment, shutting the door carelessly behind him. In the entryway, he waited for Scully to peel off her soggy winter coat. When she finished, he tugged the coat from her grasp. As he dropped his overnight bag by the hall closet and hung both their coats on the coat rack, he watched Scully drift into the living room to sink heavily into his couch. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Thinking that she looked as tired as he felt, Mulder followed, settling down next to her. She shifted, resting her head against his shoulder. Looking down, Mulder saw that she clutched the fruit of their whirlwind weekend trip to the Virginia State Forest. It was a jet black cube about the size of Mulder's fist. Scully had not been able to identify the material, but it was oddly dark, darker than anything Mulder had seen before, perfectly smooth, and cool to the touch. It reflected no light at all, as if its blackness was sucking up the light around it. Small, perfectly circular holes ran in a line around its center. Mulder carefully slipped the cube from Scully's hands, running his own fingers over its surface. His fingertips bounced over each hole, but were too large to push inside. Mulder had been surprised to find that he disliked touching the cube. While its existence and proximity provoked curiosity and excitement, it also filled him with dread. He rubbed his palm over the top. It certainly felt otherworldly. Scully would tell him that, in his excitement, he was tricking himself into feeling what he wanted to feel, that the spectral air that seemed to ooze from the cube was a product of his own imagination. He chuckled to himself. What a pair he and Scully made; a perfect pair. "What?" Scully asked, still resting snugly against his side. "Nothing." Mulder rubbed his palm over the face of the cube. The coldness that it retained even there in his heated apartment sent a chill down his spine. He leaned forward and gently set the object on the coffee table. "I'll take it to the guys tomorrow," he said, settling back into the couch. Scully kept her eyes closed as she replaced her head on his shoulder. "Are you excited about tomorrow, Mulder?" she asked, her voice low and sleepy. Mulder smiled. Excitement was an understatement. "What do you think?" "Of course you are. I am, too," she said, a smile in her voice. "I was starting to worry we'd never get them back," Mulder admitted quietly. "Our files." "Our files." Mulder sat still and quiet, listening to Scully's breathing and taking comfort in her warmth beside him. Her company filled a hole in him that he rarely found the courage to admit he had. He did not want to move, to even breathe, afraid she would wake from her half-sleep and come to her senses. She would get up and go to her own apartment, her place without him, to sleep in her own bed. Mulder was surprised when Scully slid her arm through his. "Are you okay, Scully?" he asked. "Fine, Mulder. Just tired." She mumbled something about mountains and mud and pine needles. "Next time, Mulder, I hope the alleged UFO crashes closer to civilization." "Didn't like our little hike, Scully?" "It rained on us all day, Mulder," she replied. She was quiet for a moment. Then he heard her say, in a small voice, "So tired, Mulder. Why did I come up here, anyway?" "I don't remember," Mulder lied. The article he had wanted to show her was not very important, and he was loath to say anything that would make her leave sooner rather than later. When she did not speak or move, he gently rested his cheek against the top of her head and closed his eyes. Mulder sat in relative peace until the phone rang. He snatched the cordless receiver quickly off the end table. Thankfully, Scully still did not move while he spoke quietly into the phone. He said as little as he could, desperately trying not to make her stir, or make her uncomfortable, or make her get up and leave. When the call was over, he placed the receiver gently in its cradle and bit his lip. Excitement rushed through him. He had to tell Scully the news, even if it meant rousing her and risking the loss of her warmth at his side. "Scully," he said gently. "That was Skinner. He has a case for us. We have to be at the airport tomorrow morning, early. We'll pick up the file at the office on the way." Mulder waited for Scully to get up and gather her things. "Mmm...okay, Mulder," she said in a sleepy voice. Instead of getting up to go home, she nuzzled her face into Mulder's shoulder and tightened her grip on his arm. He could not believe that she would get so close to him, that she would nuzzle him and squeeze him. He could not believe that he was letting her. But he was frozen by the warmth and comfort this small intimacy had delivered. "Are you glad you didn't stop the car and get out, Scully?" he asked quietly, remembering a two month old conversation that would not stop picking at the back of his mind. She had asked him if he ever wanted to stop their quest, their relentless driving toward some undefined holy grail, and live a normal life. To Mulder's anxious mind, it had sounded very much like she was the one who wanted to stop and get out of the car. Now, though, Scully did not respond to his question with anything but slow, even breathing. Mulder switched off the lamp next to him, snuggled into the couch, and leaned his cheek ever so gently back down on Scully's head. He found comfort in the even pressure of her body leaning against his. Lulled by her breathing, Mulder let his eyes slip shut, and sleep took him. Sometime in the night, the agents shifted. Legs swung up onto the couch, bodies slid down and stretched out, arms wrapped around shoulders and waists, and Scully buried her face in Mulder's neck. Mulder woke up just enough to cover them both with a blanket. He did not, however, come alert enough to notice the tiny beams of white light that shot from each of the holes in the mysterious cube that sat within arms reach on the coffee table. As the cube began to spin, the rays of light missed Mulder but drew a white dotted line down the length of Scully's small frame as she slept on his chest. TWO: January 22, 1999 Approx. 7:30 AM Scully was still deep within the haze of half-sleep when she realized that it was Mulder's scent, masculine and sweet, that filled the air around her. Vague memories of nodding off snuggled up next to him on his couch shimmied through her muddled mind. Their bodies were now entwined so tightly, the blanket wrapped so snug around them, that Scully had no idea where she ended and he began. Mulder's long, even breaths told her that he was still asleep and quite content. She had the vague notion that she should extricate herself from their little cocoon and leave quietly before he awoke, but her contentment and his warmth kept her from coming awake enough to act. She pressed her face further into his neck and sighed softly with blissful unconcern. Her dreamy mind concluded that this alone was the most perfect place. She resolved to stay, just a little longer. Suddenly, his long arms tightened around her. He turned his head to press soft lips against her forehead. His morning stubble raked across Scully's skin, sending a wave of heat straight to her belly. She nuzzled his neck and then began to fall back into a deeper state of sleep, lulled by the slow hand that he had started to run up and down her back. His skin on hers, his callused hands, felt so good, so warm. She wanted never to open her eyes and face the real world again. Moving lower, his hand swept gently over the curve of her hip and buttocks and then down to the back of her thigh. Scully felt his chest heave below her, his contented sigh blowing gently across her face. He whispered her name, her given name, "Dana." His fingers curved around to play at the soft skin on the inside of her thigh and then slipped gently into the folds between her legs. Scully stiffened. Eyes flying open, she gasped as his fingers stroked lightly against her most sensitive and intimate parts. She snapped her head up and looked straight into his sleepy, hazel eyes. "Mulder! What the hell are you doing?" "What?" he mumbled. His hand stopped moving, but it did not withdraw. Scully noticed a tiny, sleepy smile curving the corners of his mouth. If she did not know better, she would have had to say he looked sated. Suddenly, she was fully aware of their nakedness. She looked down to see that her bare chest was pressed up against his, skin against soft, warm skin. When she wiggled her legs, she was tickled by the hair on his. She tried to ignore the fact that she was more than a little excited by the presence of the firm leg that she straddled and by the hand that still resided between her own legs. "We're naked," she whispered, her mouth dry. His smile grew. He leaned forward to place a tiny kiss on her nose. "Yes," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and the fingers between her legs began to move again. Scully let out a little gasp and pushed herself off of him. She quickly pulled the blanket up to cover herself and then sat there gaping at her partner. Mulder's bare form had been left totally exposed, but it did not seem to bother him. Scully noticed that they were no longer on Mulder's couch, but in a bed, a strange bed, one that she never knew he had. She watched Mulder's face, seeing him struggling not to look hurt by her actions. He sat up, leaning forward to put a gentle hand on her stomach. "How's the little guy?" he asked softly. Scully pushed his hand away and lifted the sheet to peer at her body. Her breath caught, and she felt her throat begin to constrict. Her bare belly had a round and unmistakable bulge. Her jaw dropped. "Are you okay?" Mulder asked. She wanted to say something, but there were no words. She closed her mouth and nodded, never taking her eyes from her stomach. The bed shifted as Mulder scooted towards her until she could feel his breath on her face. His nearness was oddly comforting. He bent down in front of her, planting a sweet kiss on her stomach. "Good morning, little guy," he crooned. Sitting up, he kissed and nuzzled Scully's cheek. She did not pay him much attention. She was unable to take her eyes from the mystery of her bulbous and apparently occupied stomach. "Dana, we have to be at work soon. We should go get in the shower," Mulder whispered against her ear. Finally, she looked up at him. "Together?" she managed to rasp out. He nuzzled the side of her face and smiled. "Mmm hmm..." "Mulder!" Scully snapped. She pushed him away from her. "And wipe that smile off your face!" Mulder frowned, but then slowly, patiently said, "It's okay, Dana, you can have the shower first. All to yourself. Well, you and him." He rubbed a hand tentatively over her stomach. "I'll just go down and make some coffee." Smiling gently, he leaned in to kiss Scully on the cheek. She caught him by his chest and pushed him away again. "Stop it, Mulder!" she admonished. He sighed and shook his head. "Okay, I'll go. You don't have to yell," he said, sliding to the edge of the bed and donning a pair of blue New York Knicks sweatpants. "You must be having a bad hormone day, Dana. I read all about that the other night." He picked up a book off the table next to the bed and held it up. There was a picture of a very pregnant woman on the cover. "Says the dads should just get out of the way." He gave her a small smile and then left the room, taking the book with him. "Yell if you need anything," Scully heard him call. When the sound of his footsteps diminished, she slid from the bed and stood to inspect her stomach. She ran her hand up and down over the bulge. Tears began to well in her eyes. She guessed she was about five or six months along. Looking around the room, she saw the large bed, a well worn night stand, a lamp, two dressers and a full length mirror. The room was meticulously neat, except for the pile of clothes next to the bed. The pile consisted of his and hers underclothes and what looked like a skirt, a button down shirt, a tie, and some other personal items. Scully moved over to the mirror to get a look at herself. Most obvious was her protruding belly, but she was also surprised by the face that was reflected back at her. Her hair was longer and darker, and her face looked rounder and healthier. The wrinkles around her eyes and across her forehead, the ones that she had acquired worrying about Mulder, were gone. Her eyes were the same bright blue, but the whites were pink from the tears she was about to shed. She stepped over to the dresser, inspecting the items it held. Framed pictures were strewn out across its surface. She noticed that among them was one of her late father and another of Mulder's parents. When her eyes fell on another picture, the one in the middle next to the silver heart shaped jewelry box, she gasped, covering her mouth with an unsteady hand. It was a wedding picture. The happy couple's faces gazed back at her, grinning like they were two fools in love. Scully was the bride, and, of course, the groom was Mulder. "Oh my God," she said, backing away from the picture. When the backs of her thighs hit the bed, she sank down to the floor and closed her eyes. "Oh my God." Scully stepped into the shower hoping that when she got out, she would have her life back. She wanted to believe that this was the most lucid dream of her life and that she would wake up any second now. She turned the water nozzle all the way into the red, praying that the feel of Mulder's skin against hers, along with the ring she had discovered on her finger, would disappear in the steam. Looking down, she rubbed her hand over her protruding belly. It was not getting any smaller. Biting her lip, Scully realized that if this was reality, her stomach was going to be getting a whole lot bigger. She rubbed her temples. What was she thinking? This could not be reality. Reality was back where she and Mulder were partners, her life was full of adventure, and there was no king size bed in the bedroom or shaving kit on her bathroom sink. Bowing her head, she whispered to herself, "I must have finally lost it." If this was a dream, and she hoped it was, she wondered what it meant. Was it a representation of what she truly wanted in life? Did her subconscious mind truly desire to be married to Mulder and to be pregnant with his child? Was this all a dream designed to make her see that deep down she thought that she and Mulder should be together? When she pinched herself, nothing happened. She shook her head and went about finishing her shower. The hot steam entered her nose, calming her raving mind. She needed to hold on to whatever sanity she had left and figure out what in the world was going on. She flirted with the idea of telling Mulder that she was not who he seemed to believe her to be, but decided it would be better to come up with some theories of her own before she had to upset him. The last thing she needed was for him to think that she was crazy, that he should try to help her. She needed to figure this out on her own. Scully ran her hand over her stomach again. There was something in there, something alive. She had yet to feel it move, but she could feel that it was there. She cradled her stomach gently. A baby was something she had been wanting these last couple of years, ever since she had found out a baby was something she could never have. "Don't worry, little one," she said to it quietly. "I'm going to figure this out. Everything is going to be just fine." After getting out of the shower, Scully wrapped herself in a towel and went to investigate her wardrobe options. The bedroom's walk- in closet was divided into his and hers sides. Any clothes that would fit her lived on the left side. The right side, Mulder's side, was somewhat sloppy, with a pair of pants rolled up on the floor and a pile of shoes stuffed into the corner. Turning to her side, Scully found that it was organized the same way she organized the closet in her own apartment, neat and meticulously categorized. Luckily, several of the pantsuits there had extra large waists. She slipped into a navy blue suit and some black pumps. Turning back to the bedroom, she looked carefully around. She recognized some of the furniture from her own apartment. The dresser and night stand that her mother had given her were there, as were the table lamp from her living room and her alarm clock. The bed, the full length antique mirror, the throw rug, and the chest at the foot of the bed were items she did not recognize. She began to wonder if somehow this was the future. A sharp fear darted into her stomach. What if this was the future, this was reality, but she had somehow forgotten everything that had happened between falling asleep on Mulder's couch and waking up with him and their unborn child that morning? How many years could have gone by? She scanned the room for a calendar or something that would give her an idea of the date and the year, but found nothing. Deciding there were no more clues in the bedroom, she made up her face and then went out into the hall. There was another room at the end of the short hallway, the door half closed. She pushed the door open and peered inside. The room was mostly empty, save for a few paint cans and some furniture that was covered with white sheets. Resolving to return to explore this room later, she turned to the stairs that she assumed led down to Mulder, wherever he had gone. Placing a hand on the stairway's wooden railing, Scully took a deep breath. She was uneasy about facing Mulder and his strange behavior again. But she knew that if there were answers to be found, he could certainly be of some help. She took the stairs slowly, not wanting to lose her balance due to the extra, unfamiliar weight she carried. The staircase emptied into a small but comfortable looking living room. She could hear the sound of coffee brewing in a room to her left. Assuming it was the kitchen, she moved towards it. Through the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, she could see Mulder with his back to her as he sat at the round kitchen table. He had his head bowed, and she assumed he was reading the morning paper. She had never seen him so domestic. The sight frightened her. As she approached the doorway, she noticed for the first time that his appearance was different. He looked heavier, healthier. The muscles in his bare back were strong and thick. His hair was much longer, almost down to his earlobes, but neatly cut. As he sipped from the coffee mug he had wrapped his hand around, he turned the page of whatever paper he was reading. Although she could not see his face, Scully knew for certain that this happily domestic man was not her Mulder. "Feel better now?" he asked, turning to look over his shoulder. She nodded and approached him slowly, stopping at his side. She studied his face as he looked up at her. He wore his gold wire rimmed glasses, the same ones he had been wearing the day she had met him. The worry lines that were so prominent on his forehead and around his eyes had all but disappeared. He gave her a big, unabashed, but sweet smile and then turned back to his paper. Noticing that he seemed awfully engrossed, Scully peeked down to see what he was reading. It seemed to be a cheap, almost home made publication. She was disheartened to see that there was a title, but no date, printed at the top of the page he was on. The paper was called the Paranormal Daily News, and the article he was reading referred to a blind and deaf woman who could apparently communicate with the dead. Some things, apparently, had not changed. Scully chuckled to herself. Leaning against the table, she continued to watch him read. "What's up?" he asked. "Nothing. Are you going to go check that out?" She gestured to the article. Mulder turned to her, eyes wide. "Of course not," he said. "You know I don't do that anymore. Besides, we have an appointment today." His eyes softened. He gave her another small smile before shaking his head and turning back to his paper. "Oh, Mom called while you were in the shower," he added without taking his eyes from the article. Mom called. Her Mom, or his Mom? Probably hers. Scully waited for Mulder to say more, but she had totally lost his attention. Maybe this was Mulder, after all. Just a different...Mulder. "Um, did she say what she wanted?" "Oh, sorry," he said sheepishly. Shaking his head, he smiled a tiny, self deprecating smile that Scully had seen many times before. "She wanted to know if you'd need a ride to the ultrasound today." "Do I?" Mulder shook his head. "I rescheduled the appointment with Agent Doyle." Scully rubbed her hand over her belly. An ultrasound. Oh my God. Feeling weak in the knees, she leaned heavily against the table. "Mulder, what day is it?" Scully asked in a quiet voice. She really wanted to ask the year, but was afraid of the alarm it would cause him. Mulder looked at her with a raised eyebrow, an expression he certainly must have learned from her. She saw the worry in his eyes. "It's Monday," he told her. Scully nodded, noting that it had been Sunday night when they had fallen asleep on his couch. "The twenty-second?" "Yep." Interesting. Based on the fact that the day and the date were what they were supposed to be, even though everything else was, well, not, Scully concluded that this was most likely not the future. She would have to look up the year as soon as possible, though, to be absolutely sure. Curious, she asked, "Mulder, what did we do yesterday?" "You don't remember?" Scully traced her finger along the edge of the table. "No," she began awkwardly. "I guess I'm just blanking." Mulder reached out and stilled her hand on the table. He looked into her eyes like he was trying to read what was going on inside her head. "We had lunch with your Mother on Saturday. She couldn't keep her hands off your stomach." Smiling, he rubbed his hand over her belly. "Saturday night we stayed in and I made Chinese for dinner while you cleaned like you like to do so much, even though I told you you needed to rest. Sunday we got paint for the baby's room. And then, last night, in case you've forgotten, we made love. Twice, if I remember correctly." He grinned at her. She could feel a hot flush wash over her skin. When she turned her eyes to the ground, embarrassed, he put his arms around her and pulled her to him, burying his face in her chest. "Why are you blushing?" he asked. Flustered, Scully opened her mouth to speak, but was unable to form coherent words. Mulder-But-Not-Mulder was running his hands gently up and down her back and nuzzling her breasts with his nose and mouth. Oh God. She wiggled out of his arms, but regretted the action the moment she saw the hurt flash across his face. It was gone as quickly as it came, but she hated herself for putting it there at all. He had been so nice to her, despite her strange behavior, and his. Unable to look at him, she turned and headed for the coffee pot. He was by her side before she could turn the mug she found on the counter right side up. "What are you doing, Dana? You can't have that." He took the coffee cup from her hand. Scully frowned. "Mulder, what's wrong with you? Pregnant women can have coffee." Shaking his head, Mulder opened the refrigerator. "My book says that too much caffeine can be harmful for the baby." He took a juice box and two eggs from the fridge. "It's just a cup of coffee. It won't hurt me...I mean us." Mulder put the juice box in her hand and set the eggs on the counter. He bent down to rummage through a cupboard. It was a nice cupboard, Scully noticed. The whole kitchen was very nice. Her other self had good taste. She shook her head, trying to stop her mind from wandering. "Mulder, what are you doing?" "I'm looking for the skillet. You should eat something before work." Scully sighed. She planted one hand on her hip, using the other to tug on Mulder's shoulder. When he stood up, he triumphantly placed a black cooking pan on the counter. His grin fell into a frown, though, when he turned and saw Scully's face. Pushing the hair out of his eyes, he took a tiny step back away from her. "You don't like my mothering," he said, nodding. "I know. It's just that..." He put his hand gently on her swollen belly. Scully rolled her eyes. It was a typical Mulder apology, albeit a sweet one. "No, it's okay. I'm sorry. Well, I mean, you are the..." Scully had to stop and take a breath. "You're the father." She tried so smile for him. He was just watching out for his unborn child. Mulder answered her with a purely blissful smile of his own, one that she had never seen before. Perhaps it was born of this domestic life in which he seemed so comfortable. As Scully took the skillet from the counter, the hand on her belly moved to run long fingers gently down her breast. She gasped in surprise, letting the pan fall to the floor with a blaring clatter. She jumped at the noise, and so did the baby inside her. "Oh my God, Mulder!" She wrapped her arms around her belly, surprising herself by letting out a joyous giggle. Mulder looked startled. "What? What is it?" She took his hand and placed it on her belly so he could feel too. "It moved," she explained, breathless and exhilarated. "I felt it move!" Mulder stroked her stomach gently. "We've felt him move before, Dana. Are you sure you're all right?" Scully smiled up at him. "Yes. I'm fine. I'm fine, Mulder." "Good." He pulled her to him, wrapping an arm around her waist and tucking her head beneath his chin. His skin and hair were soft beneath her cheek. His smell was intoxicating and male. Overwhelmed and seeking comfort, Scully wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her palms against the smooth skin at the small of his back. "Dana, why do you keep calling me Mulder?" he mumbled into her hair. Pulling back, Scully looked up at him. He still wore his glasses, his hair falling over the gold rims as he gazed back down at her. He looked even more handsome than she remembered her Mulder to be. She shook her head. She wanted to tell him, wanted him to know that there was something very wrong. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She needed to figure out what was going on before she could talk to him about it. There was still no proof that she was not insane, that either her old life or this one did not exist at all. When she sighed, frustrated, Mulder bent to rest his forehead against hers, his arms still wrapped tightly around her. Scully closed her eyes. He wanted to know why she called him Mulder. "I don't know...Fox," she said in a small voice. "I don't know." She gently pulled from his arms, turning to the stove. "You should go shower," she said when she had collected herself. "I can handle my own breakfast, and we don't want to be late for work." Work. She had heard him mention it before he had left her alone in the bedroom. At least they still had their jobs. Maybe she could find some answers at the office. Mulder, or rather, Fox quietly agreed. "I'll drop you off," he said. "I have a class at nine and then I took the afternoon off so I can pick you up for our appointment. 2:30, right?" Scully's heart sank. They were not partners here, anymore, whatever. Mulder seemed to work somewhere else entirely. "We don't..." she started to ask, but caught herself. He would not understand. "Yes, 2:30," she said, trusting that Fox had Mulder's eidetic memory and knew the right time. "Okay," he said quietly. He squeezed Scully's shoulder and then left her with her thoughts. Scully was really not hungry. She put the eggs back in the fridge, took her juice box, and sat down at the table. She rubbed her tired eyes with the heels of her palms, wondering what the hell was going on. She was either crazy, or she had lost her memory. There were no other possible explanations. Instead of letting herself slip into despair, she pushed her predicament from her mind and flipped through the baby book Fox had left on the table. The title was "What to Expect When You're Expecting." Oh God. THREE: January 22, 1999 Approx. 8:40 AM Mulder came awake to the feel of soft lips fluttering against his neck. Scully lay half on top of him, nestled between his body and the back of the couch. They had kicked the quilt off during the night, but Mulder was comfortable with Scully draped against him like a perfect, warm, living blanket. For a man who could never find sleep, he had slept very well that night. There was no telling whether Scully was awake or asleep, but her lips and her embrace felt so good that he remained still and quiet. Every patch of skin her lips touched went up in tiny flames. He had never before held Scully for the sake of simply holding her, as he was now. He could count the times he had held her at all on one hand. Keeping his eyes shut, he thanked whatever God might be out there for this rare and precious moment. When he felt the heat and delicious wetness of her tongue on the rough skin just below his jaw, his heart's only desire was to tighten his arms around her and squeeze her even closer to him. Afraid his movement would make her run, he forced himself to remain perfectly still, struggling to maintain his imitation of the even breathing of sleep. "Mmm...Fox," Scully sighed into his ear. Surprised to hear his fist name, Mulder recognized the fact that Scully was not aware of what she was doing. She had to be acting out in a state of sleep or half-sleep. He had no idea how he felt about that. Hurt and relief battled inside him. The hurt was because he knew that a fully conscious Scully would never let him get this close to her. The relief came because what she did not know, what she slept through, could not come back to hurt him. Sadly, he realized that he should not let the situation go on any longer. If he did, Scully would give him a front kick to the balls, for sure, and a roundhouse to the head for good measure. She had moved away from his neck to suckle his collar bone. A tiny moan escaped her lips, making Mulder work to keep his reaction in check. Nope, this could not go on. She would kill him if she found out how much he was enjoying her. Cracking his eyes open, he glanced down at her face. Her eyes were open, but filled with a contentment that could only come after a night of guiltless, peaceful sleep. She picked her head up, her cheek brushing against his. When she caught his eyes, a grin spread across her face. "Good morning," she said in a wickedly seductive voice that he had never heard before. It shocked him thoroughly. Before Mulder could recover, she dropped her head to nip his earlobe and to growl into his ear. Mulder stifled the moan that was growing in his throat. This siren could not be Scully. For a fleeting moment he flirted with the idea that his Scully had somehow switched bodies with Kersh's secretary. The woman had had been eyeballing him ever since he and Scully had returned from their Area 51 blowout. The thought fled his mind the second he felt Scully's tongue fill his ear. He wanted to grab her and touch her, smooth his hands over her back and her hips, drive her crazy with tiny kisses. Did she know what she was doing to him? Did she know that it had to stop before he lost control? Firmly gripping her upper arms, he pulled her up to look at him. "Scully?" He watched her eyes come fully open. They began to widen, growing impossibly huge, round, blue, and afraid. Her fear broke his heart, and he cursed himself for not putting a stop to this situation the moment it had begun. He became suddenly, painfully aware of every place her body touched his. A nervous tingle traversed his body. It ran through his legs where they were entwined with hers, through his stomach that pressed warmly against hers, and through his arms that held her but had to let her go. Frozen, he stared into her eyes, waiting for the fear to turn to anger. Her head would clear, her cognizant, rational self would return, and she would flee his arms, angry at him and at herself. But the anger did not come. Her eyes softened, her fear turning to curiosity mixed with some degree of worry. Her lips parted, her breath tickling his lips and chin. Slowly, she reached up to touch his face with soft fingertips, running them down his cheek and then up to trace the circles under and around his eyes. Mulder let his eyes slip shut, content under her gentle scrutiny. Her hand ran through his short hair before settling back on his cheek. "What happened to you?" she asked quietly. "What?" He opened his eyes and watched Scully's brow furrow like she was trying to solve a complex puzzle. Then the inevitable happened. Panic flew into Scully's face as she came fully awake and took in her strange surroundings and her strange bedfellow. "Where are we?" she asked. Mulder's heart sank. She did not know where she was, and she certainly had not been aware of her actions when she had started kissing his neck. He was afraid of her proximity, but was also hurt by her rejection and the unintentional nature of her affection. A year ago, Mulder would have run, fled the scene, refused to deal. But they had come too far for him to allow their relationship to regress even an inch. It was just about perfect the way it was. They were not lovers, but they were more comfortable with each other than they had ever been before. He had never felt closer to anyone than he had come to feel to her over the tedious months of their hiatus from the X-files. They had exchanged Christmas gifts, for crying out loud! They needed each other, and they were there, always. "Where are we?" she asked again, more urgently. "It's okay," he said gently, carefully watching her frightened face. "We fell asleep on my couch. We're at my apartment. Nothing happened. It's okay, Scully." His reassurances did not seem to help. Scully's breathing grew quick and shallow, her face pale. She looked around the room, then back at Mulder. Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears. Mulder watched as her jaw thrust out and her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip. Afraid of the anger he knew was about to explode from her, he slid quickly out from beneath her. Turning away from Scully, Mulder rubbed his hand over his face and then checked his watch. It was half past eight. They would be late for their meeting with Skinner and possibly late for their flight. A wave of excitement washed through Mulder's body when he realized how much this day meant to him, to both of them. He turned back to Scully, the discomfort between them thankfully pushed aside. "Scully, we have to get going. I don't want Skinner chewing my ass out our first day back." Scully looked up at him from her seat on the couch. Her face was full of confusion, like she had no idea what he was talking about. With a stab of regret, he realized that what had happened on the couch must have stunned her terribly. "The case, Scully," he said, stooping down in front of her. "You know, the X-files? We're getting them back today?" Scully continued to stare at him. "X-files," she said quietly. Shaking his head, Mulder trotted across the room to retrieve her coat from the coat rack. "Here Scully," he said, handing her the coat. She did not move to accept it, so he laid it across her lap. "I'm going to shower. Go on home and pack. I'll pick you up on the way to see Skinner." "Skinner," she repeated in that same quiet monotone. "Come on, Scully, hurry. We're practically late already." With that, Mulder left Scully on the couch. He went straight into the shower, using cold water in an attempt to wash the feel of Scully's kisses from his skin. Of course, it did not work. He was so sorry he had let things go on so much longer than they should have. She had not said anything yet, but he was certain there was a massive reaming in his near future. He could see the upset boiling up in her behind those cool blue eyes. Mulder sighed, deciding to try to concentrate on his excitement over their new case. Skinner had an X-file for them. Today would be the day they returned to the X-files. Their break was over, and his life had purpose once more. Everything would go back to normal. He was sure the work would help set things back on track with Scully. It had to. After showering, shaving, and brushing his teeth, Mulder wrapped a towel around his waist and headed back to the living room to get dressed. He was surprised to find Scully still seated on his couch. Her hair hung in her face as she looked down at her stomach. One of her hands ran back and forth across her belly in a slow rhythm, while her other hand clutched the shirt that covered her abdomen, holding it in a tight fist, her knuckles bone white. "Scully?" Mulder called gently, fear gripping his own stomach. She looked up at him slowly, the hair falling away from her face. Her expression seemed blank, but Mulder saw pure terror in her eyes. He ran to her and knelt between her knees. "Scully? What is it? Are you sick?" He tried to push her hands from her stomach so he could see. She would not move her hands, but continued to stare at him, looking like she was going to burst into tears. "The baby," she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. "Our baby's gone." "What? What baby?" Scully did not respond to his questions. She sat huddled into herself, clutching her stomach. Her eyes were wild, and she seemed anything but herself. There was something terribly wrong, something that made Mulder feel ill and afraid. A baby? What was she talking about? He tilted her chin up to look at him. "What baby, Scully?" he asked again. She whimpered, then looked at him like he was crazy. "The baby that was here! And now it's not anymore!" she shouted in his face. Her eyes held a mixture of anger, panic, and confusion. Mulder had no idea where these emotions were coming from. He was surprised when she took his hand and placed his palm against her flat abdomen. Her flesh was tight and smooth. She was anything but pregnant. To Mulder's paranoid mind, it almost felt like her stomach, which should be rounded and feminine, was collapsing in on itself, barren beneath his hand. He would never stop blaming himself for her infertility. His stomach turned and gurgled. He was afraid he might have to excuse himself to the bathroom. Taking a few deep breaths, he tried to pull himself together. When he searched Scully's eyes again, Mulder had a realization. Oh God. He tore his gaze away from her. His breathing grew shallow, and his heart felt like it was going to beat itself right out of his chest. He could remember two times in his life when he had been so afraid. The very reason he would protect Scully with every inch of his life was because he never wanted to feel that way again. But he did, now. When he had looked into this woman's eyes, he had realized that Scully was not there. A human being can only take so much loss and trauma. His beloved partner had finally snapped. OhGodOhGodOhGod. When Mulder said nothing, Scully's hand tightened around his where they rested on her belly. He forced himself to continue to breath deeply and evenly. Looking back up at her face, he took in her sleepy visage. There were red rings around her eyes where the tears were about to spill over, and her hair was rumpled. He hoped to any God that would listen that she was just disoriented from a bad night's sleep on his couch, that she did not truly believe there should be a baby in her belly. "Scully, was it a dream? Did you have a dream about a baby? About Emily?" He hated himself for bringing up the lost little girl that left a hole in his partner's heart, but he thought that hearing the girl's name might help snap Scully out of her stupor. "Who's Emily?" she asked quietly. She did not remember Emily, the child that meant so much to her, the only child she would ever have. Mulder's heart sank. It did not seem to be a dream that was causing her disorientation. When Scully spoke again, her voice was shaky and nearly hysterical. "This is not our house," she said. "How did we get here? We weren't here." Mulder blinked back tears at her words. He was losing her, and he was helpless. She looked carefully at his face, then reached up to run her fingers through his short hair. "You're not Fox. You're not really Fox. And the baby's gone." A single tear spilled onto her cheek. She bit her lip to keep any others from following. Mulder could see that she was Scully...but not Scully. She recognized him, but did not recognize him. What was happening? Overwhelmed by the terror he saw in her face, Mulder gently took hold of her upper arms and pulled her to him. She struggled to push him away, her hands thumping against his bare chest. While he recovered his balance, he watched her try to stifle a sob. Mulder desperately wanted to take care of her, to do something for her. He reached for her again. This time, she let him wrap his arms around her shoulders and pull her tight against his chest. "I'm here, Scully. It's Fox," he said into her hair. "It's Mulder." "You're Fox Mulder," she said into his neck. "Yes." Scully relaxed some in his arms. Her breathing steadied as he stroked her hair. He took comfort of his own in the fact that she was letting him hold her. When her sniffles stopped, he pulled away from her and leaned his forehead against hers in a gesture that had come to mean so much to them, but that required them to say very little. It conveyed fragments of feelings they were never ready to admit. It whispered, 'I want to be near you,' but little more. It meant that when they were together, their minds were as one. It was simple, their gesture, but the woman in Mulder's arms was not. In her current state, she did not even know that the gesture had any meaning at all, but it seemed to placate her anyhow. She looked at him for a moment, so close, and then her eyes slipped shut. She slid her hands up to his bare shoulders, stroking soft fingers over his skin. She took a few deep, cleansing breaths, then whispered, "Something happened, Fox." Mulder nodded his head against hers. The sound of her voice and his first name made him uneasy, but, if it made her feel better in some small way, if it would help bring his Scully back, he figured she could call him whatever she wanted. All he wanted in the world was his Scully back. "What happened?" he asked in a tremulous whisper. Scully pulled her head away to look at him carefully. She hesitated, looking like she wanted to speak, but that she found her throat closed and her tongue unresponsive. Finally, she swallowed hard and began her story in a strained, quick chatter. "We...we got the paint for the baby's room. This was, I guess, yesterday. Then you cooked dinner while I caught up on some reading and cleaned up the house a little. You wouldn't let me help with dinner because you wanted me to rest." She took her hand from his shoulder and ran it over her empty stomach again. "Then we watched some TV and went to bed. We...we made love and fell asleep. The baby was fine. You're always worried you'll hurt him, but I told you he'd be fine and to go look it up in your book if you didn't believe me. But now...now we're here." She stopped, looking down at her lap, seemingly deep in thought. Mulder was glad she was not looking at his face, that she was not seeing the horror he knew was plastered there. Part of him wished this was a joke, but he knew Scully better than that. She would never do this to him. This was real. Her mind was gone, and Mulder was going to be ill. He wanted to refuse to accept it. He wanted to tell her that her story never happened. He wanted to tell her that they had spent yesterday trekking through the forest searching for his downed UFO, then riding a plane headed for home. They fell asleep together on his couch, but they definitely did not make love. They were not together, or married, or whatever she wanted to think they were. He wanted to tell her that there was no baby. Oh God. A terrible regret washed through him. She could never have the baby that she wanted, wanted so badly that her mind could not handle it. The bittersweet surprise that it was his baby she wanted did little to quell the fear and panic that were raging inside him. He wanted to scream, to just call time out, go into the bathroom, and spend five minutes screaming and crying and throwing things. He wanted to tell her that she had lost touch with reality and demand that she return to him. Taking a breath, he held himself in check, keeping his mouth shut. The last thing he needed was to upset her further. Why was this happening? His partner was lost. He clenched his fists and buried his screams deep, saving them for later. Scully's voice came suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts. "It's a dream," she said quietly into her lap. Mulder was hopeful. Maybe she was realizing that it was actually a dream, like he had originally suggested. Maybe she was coming around, snapping out of it. "Was it a dream you had, Scully?" he asked again. "Is that it?" Scully shook her head, giving him a frustrated look. "No. THIS is a dream," she said through clenched teeth. Mulder looked at her blankly. "This, Fox! This apartment. This room. That terrible hair cut." She gestured towards his head. "I'm going to wake up," she went on without looking directly at him, as if she were speaking to herself. "I'm going to wake up and have my house, and my husband, and my baby. I'm going to wake up and kiss you good morning and go in to work." "Work? Do you remember work? The X-files?" "What?" Mulder shook his head sadly, then took a deep breath to keep himself from flying out of control. "I'm going to go to work...at Quantico," Scully continued. Mulder could see her physically struggling to be as calm as possible. The look on her face was still one of upset and fear, but she now appeared quite lucid. "I'm going to teach my morning class, and then I'm going to have lunch with Missy." "What?" Mulder asked a little too harshly. "Missy," she said as if he should have known. "My sister? Remember?" "Oh God, Scully." Needing comfort for himself, Mulder gathered her into his arms. He buried his face in her hair and let the psychologist in him make the diagnosis he had been trying to deny since he had found her hysterical on the couch. She was suffering from some kind of dissociative disorder. Schizophrenia, probably. She had created another life for herself because her brain was no longer capable of coping with the one she had. Mulder wanted to cry into her soft hair. Why was this happening? Falling asleep on his couch the night before must have triggered it. It was the only out of the ordinary thing they had done recently. But spending a night cuddling together on his couch was certainly not the only thing that had led to this. There was the loss of Emily, the loss of all the little Scully's of the future, a dozen near death experiences, the death of her sister, his quest that never seemed to end, their own confused relationship. He wished she had never met him. It was all his fault. Mulder pulled himself together for what seemed like the hundredth time since he had woken up with her in his arms. He pushed slightly away from her, taking her hands in his. "Scully...Dana..." She seemed to think he was her husband. Her husband would call her Dana. "Dana, I'm really worried. I want you to go see a doctor friend of mine." He waited for her to go ballistic. "Fox, you ARE the doctor!" she exclaimed, but then calmed a little. "You don't believe me," she said as she looked down at their hands. Mulder blinked at her and shook his head, not knowing what to say. "This is crazy," Scully went on. "This is a dream. This is not real and you can't send me to a not real doctor. The only doctor I want to see is my real gynecologist today at my real 2:30 appointment. I am going to wake up right now." She looked up and around the room like she expected something to happen. They both jumped when the phone rang. It was the high trill of Mulder's cel. He went to the coat rack and fished it out of his jacket pocket. When he pressed send, he was greeted by a very irate Assistant Director Skinner. The ranting voice booming from the little phone made Mulder cringe. Skinner demanded to know where the hell he was, shouting that he should have been in his office twenty minutes ago. It was a speech Mulder had heard dozens of times. He had no idea what to tell the man, so he held the phone away from his ear and just let him rant. Looking over at Scully, Mulder noticed the alarm in her face as she watched him deal with their boss. Her eyes implored him silently to come back to her. Still holding the phone away from his ear, Mulder made his way back to stand near his partner. She quietly slipped her hand into his free one, and they waited for Skinner to finish. When the voice on the phone quieted, Mulder spoke carefully. "I'm sorry, Sir, but I'd rather not talk about this on this line. I'm leaving now, and we'll talk when I get there." He knew Skinner had no patience for his cryptic behavior, but there was nothing else he could tell him. Mulder needed time to come up with a story that would save his and Scully's jobs. "Where is Agent Scully?" Skinner asked. "I would have at least expected her to be on time your first day back." Mulder closed his eyes. "I don't know, Sir. I'll find her, and we'll be right there." "See that you are, Agent Mulder." Mulder turned off the phone and pulled Scully up from the couch. Turning her to face him, he looked into her eyes and said, "We have to go to the office. I want to take care of you, but first we have to do this or we're going to lose the X-files again, and we can't let that happen. When you're yourself again, Scully, you'll thank me for this, I promise." He traced his fingers gently down her cheek, hoping she would agree to go with him without any more questions. He should have known better. "Fox," she asked slowly, "that was our boss?" Mulder nodded. "Where...where do we work?" Mulder closed his eyes and dropped his chin into his chest. He stopped himself from letting out a long, satisfying sigh, not wanting to alarm Scully with his frustration. Looking back at her, he tried to smile. "Scully," he pled with her, "if this is a really mean joke, now would be a good time to come clean so we can both start laughing." "It's not a joke, Fox," Scully said, dropping his hand and letting out a frustrated sigh of her own. Mulder nodded. "I know," he said. Taking a deep breath, he switched gears. "All right," he began as he opened his closet and started fishing around inside. "We work at FBI Headquarters in a division called the X-files. We're partners. Our boss is Assistant Director Walter Skinner. Ah ha!" Mulder pulled a blue duffel bag from the closet. He took a navy blue suit out of the bag and handed it to Scully. "You keep an extra suit here just in case," he explained. "It'll be wrinkled, but there's no time for ironing." Scully nodded, dropped the suit on the couch, and started to pull her sweater over her head. Mulder stopped her quickly, but not before he got an eyeful of her creamy white midriff and her black lace bra. He tugged the shirt back down to cover her, put the suit back in her hands, then nudged her toward the bathroom. She looked at him coyly. He saw in her face a combination of shock, apology, and heartbreak before she disappeared behind the bathroom door. Mulder sunk heavily onto the couch. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his hands over his face. He dug callused fingertips into his eyes and rubbed them too, all the while asking himself why. Why did this have to happen? Why was he in danger of losing Scully again? Why now, when their relationship was so perfect? And why today, the day that was supposed to be their happy return to work day? Oh God, the X- files. He could not lose them again. But he would not take them without Scully, and he was painfully afraid he was on the verge of losing her for good. If Skinner even suspected she was having such a severe psychological episode, he would suspend her from the bureau, and the X-files would be lost. Mulder decided he needed to stall Skinner and the case he had for them. He needed to get Scully to a doctor, to get her well, as quietly and as quickly as possible. He stood and went to the closet, putting on his clothes and his poker face. Scully emerged from the bathroom dressed in a somewhat wrinkled navy blue suit. Her hair was combed, but her face was free of make up. From across the room, Mulder could see the freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. She looked very young. He could tell she had been crying. Her eyes were just a little too glossy and the tip of her nose just a little too pink. "Fox, I'm ready," she stated, her voice as steady as he was sure she could make it under the circumstances. Mulder nodded, going to the closet to dig out his shoes. He turned when Scully called to him. "Fox," she said quietly, "we're not married, are we?" She held up her left hand and wiggled her bare ring finger. Mulder's heart broke, again. He shook his head and turned back to the closet, hating himself and hating the world. Just another day in the life of Fox Mulder. "Scully, you can't call me Fox at the office," he declared as he tied his shoes. "Why?" "I'll explain on the way." As they walked out the door, Mulder noticed that Scully still held a hand protectively around her stomach. Why is this happening, he asked himself for the thousandth time. Why? FOUR: January 22, 1999 Approx. 9:00 AM Scully sat quietly in the passenger seat, lost in thought, while Fox, the driver, rambled on about Saturday's Knicks game. It was good to know that some things had not changed. "You're quiet this morning," Fox commented as they pulled up to the Quantico main entrance. "I'm fine," Scully said quietly. Fox shot her a very familiar look, one that she had seen on Mulder a thousand times. It was the one that said 'I don't believe you, not for a second.' When Scully narrowed her eyes at him, he backed off. "Okay," he said as he threw the car into park. "Here we are." Fox made no move to get out of the car, and Scully felt a terrible emptiness when she remembered that he was not coming to work with her. About to lose her careful control for the third time that morning, she quickly gathered her brief case and purse, then reached for the car door handle. "Hey, Dana, wait," Fox said, putting a hand on her arm to stop her escape. Scully turned to look at him. His face was unreadable, but focused. All of that infamous Mulder energy and exuberance were directed solely at her. It was both mesmerizing and frightening. Giving her less than a second to try to remember all the reasons she had buried her feelings for Mulder, Fox slipped his free hand around the back of her neck and pulled her face to his. His lips slid against hers with a light, silky bliss that only the sweetest of kisses could bring. The kiss was soft and wet and gentle and hot and all the things Scully had dreamt of often in sleep, but had hardly ever allowed to surface into conscious fantasy. This man, this Mulder that was not Mulder, seemed so open and comfortable with kissing her that she did not have a chance to resist or to participate. He just reached over and took and gave what he wanted, something her Mulder would never do. She loved it against her will. His kiss made her blood boil and her ears ring. The world was spinning around her as a flood of warmth poured over her whole body and into her center. He did all of this to her without even deepening the kiss to involve tongues, or teeth, or wandering hands. Breathless, Scully had to pull away before she was lost. Their lips parted with a tiny smack. Scully turned away from him to hide the flush that had crept over her skin. Gathering her bags again, she realized how ridiculous it was to hide from him. In this world, this dream, whatever, she was his wife. She must enjoy his kisses all the time. This thought sent a new wave of pink across her face, neck, and shoulders. It was all too much. She tried to push his kiss and her subsequent embarrassment from her mind. She needed to compose herself, to refocus on the task at hand. She needed to get back home to her Mulder, her apartment, her reality. She quickly turned and got out of the car. "I'll pick you up at two," she heard Fox call to her. She turned to see him stretching across the passenger seat to look at her through the open car window. He was smiling smugly. He had seen the flush race across her skin, had seen her reaction to the feel of his lips on hers. He knew what he had done to her, knew that he had excited her. Scully blushed some more and bit her lip. She shook her head. "Two o'clock," she confirmed, finding her voice. "You'll be at...." "The university," he filled in. "Not at the office. Lecture at ten. I have my pager, kay?" Scully nodded. He gave her what she could only describe as a look of loving adoration, his eyes growing soft as the corners of his mouth turned up in a tiny smile. Oh brother. He waved to her, but did not put the car in gear. Scully realized he was going to sit there and watch her until she was safely inside the building. She felt like the collar of her light, silk blouse was constricting around her neck. Her palms began to sweat, and she felt a strange weight on her shoulders. Abruptly, she turned and walked from the car to the building's main entrance. The security guard at the door was surprised to see her. "Agent Scully, haven't seen you come in this door in quite a while. Is everything okay?" he asked with a concerned smile. Scully did not recognize the man, but was flustered by his questions for only a moment. "I'm fine," she said confidently. "My husband dropped me off today." The word husband was still foreign to her tongue. It rolled around in her mouth like a question she hated to have to ask. "How is Mr. Mulder?" the guard asked politely. "He's quite well, thank you." Scully tried to smile at the guard as she passed through the metal detector. Once inside, she looked around the large lobby. There were people bustling in all directions, in and out of class rooms and offices, standing in line for the elevators, or emerging from the cafeteria with coffee and a bagel. Scully suddenly realized she had no idea where she was supposed to be. She moved over to the electronic kiosk at the center of the large room and scanned the building directory for her name. 'Dr. Dana Scully, Chairman, Forensic Pathology, Room 408,' it said. Impressive. She had managed to move up to the head of her department. She wondered if this was what would have happened if she had never left Quantico to work on the X-files. After making her way up to the fourth floor, she found her office. It was not large, but was cozy and comfortable. Looking around, she noticed that, like the house, her office was neat and perfectly organized, as if she had designed it herself. It gave her the chills. There was no hint of Mulder anywhere. Scully touched her lips with her fingertips. His kiss lingered in her memory, on her skin. There was little she could do to wipe it away. She tried to focus on something else. Mentally and emotionally exhausted, she slid into the chair behind the desk. The desktop itself was very clean. Her papers and files must have been stored neatly in the file cabinet that covered one wall. She noticed that on her date on her desk calendar was January 22, 1999. She was definitely not in the future, but in some alternate present. When she turned to the wall behind her desk, she noticed there were several paintings done on large sheets of white construction paper. They were not framed and were taped up there with scotch tape. They were obviously the work of a child, but the use of color and space made them very vibrant and interesting to look at. She noticed that they were all signed in big letters by "Jeremy." Who was Jeremy? The edge of a brown picture frame poked out from behind one of the paintings. Scully was reaching to move the painting so she could discover what was in the picture frame when the phone rang. The pictures forgotten, she found the phone on her desk and picked it up. "Scully," she said into the receiver. "Doctor Scully," an unfamiliar voice began, "I'm sorry to disturb you, but your nine o'clock class started fifteen minutes ago and the students are waiting." "Oh. Oh my! I'm sorry. I must have lost track of the time. That class is in..." "Lab C, Doctor Scully." "Right. Thank you." Scully hung up the phone, took her brief case, and locked the office on her way out. She was half way to Lab C when she began to wonder what she would be teaching that day. She arrived at the lab to find herself surrounded by concerned students. "Are you all right, Doctor Scully?" asked a tall, blond young man. Scully nodded. A female student took her brief case from her and set it on the counter. "We got worried when you didn't show up on time, Doctor Scully," she explained. Scully noticed that the girl was looking pointedly at her belly. She realized that her tardiness had caused the students to worry over her pregnancy. "I'm fine, everyone. Why don't you all take a seat around...." she picked up a chart for the 'patient' on the table in the middle of the room, "...Mr. Waters, and we'll get started." She was surprised by how easily she slipped into her firm teacher's voice. She had not taught a class at Quantico in years, not since the first time the X-files had been closed down. The students took their seats and looked at her. Some still seemed concerned, while others just sat there and smiled. Scully smiled reassuringly back at them, then pulled the sheet off the body in front of her. The Y incision had been made but not sutured closed. It appeared they were in the middle of some demonstration. "All right, who can tell me where we left off last class?" she asked. A young man with glasses explained that they had been analyzing the body's stomach contents for evidence of poison and that they had stopped right before moving down to investigate the large and small intestines. Nodding, Scully picked up the demonstration where they had apparently left off. None of the students seemed the wiser. Her pupils hung on her every word, seeming to genuinely like her and her class. She was grateful for their approval and their cooperation. Teaching was never very exciting, but it was easy for Scully, and the hours passed quickly. FIVE: January 22, 1999 Approx. 9:40 AM Mulder glanced at Scully. She sat quietly in front of Skinner's desk, hands folded in her lap, face calm and professional. She had agreed to say nothing during the meeting with Skinner, and she looked like she would make good on her promise. Mulder was able to reluctantly turn his attention to their boss. Skinner had stood after Mulder and Scully had taken their seats. He looked down his nose at Mulder, making him feel like the older man's angry gaze was going to burn a hole right through him. Mulder swallowed hard and prepared himself to be as vague as possible. Hell, he figured, it had worked before. In a way, Mulder was thankful they had Skinner back. Skinner had always been Mulder's closet supporter, and Mulder had never needed that support more than he did now. "Well?" Skinner raged. "What do you have to say for yourselves?" "Scully and I had a meeting with a possible source early this morning," Mulder lied. "And?" Mulder said nothing. Skinner frowned, shaking his head at the young agent. Mulder stuck his chin out and stood his ground. He would not, could not, tell his boss any more than this one vague lie. Skinner had understood his need for secrecy in the past. All Mulder could do was hope that he would understand now and let it go. To Mulder's horror, Skinner turned to Scully and asked, "Agent Scully, do you have anything...enlightening...to add to Agent Mulder's report?" When Scully hesitated, Mulder's stomach sank, his breath catching in his chest. Finally, in a surprisingly steady and convincing voice, Scully said, "Nothing, Sir. Mulder received a call from the possible source early this morning, and we followed up on it. We used haste and discretion and arrived here as soon as possible." "And you, like Agent Mulder, are not willing to describe the nature of this 'source'?" "No, Sir." Relieved, Mulder let the breath he had been holding fly swiftly from his lungs. He hoped Skinner had not seen his nostrils flare or his chest heave. Glancing up at the older man, he saw that Skinner was still studying Scully intensely. When his gaze shifted slowly over to Mulder, his eyes narrowed, and his frown deepened. He was not buying it. "I find it odd, Agents," he said, "that you both arrived simultaneously late, and that you are both giving me vague and disgracefully weak explanations. This is your first day back on the job you have both spent the last eight months fighting for. If not at least prompt, I expected you both to be early. Instead I have been sitting here all morning wondering if you were going to show up at all." Skinner crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for them to offer up a better explanation for their tardiness. Mulder said nothing. He kept a carefully blank face, but afforded himself one lightning quick, sideways glance at Scully. She sat there with her usual stoical grace. It was like everything was as normal as could be. Scully looked cool and professional, probably waiting to let Mulder have it once they were back in their own office, Skinner was ranting, and Mulder was itching to get out of there. It was just like old times. Mulder sighed and resigned himself to waiting patiently for Skinner's tirade to be over. Skinner, unfortunately, looked like he was going to grind his teeth down to the gums. He looked pointedly from Mulder to Scully to Mulder and then back to Scully. "If there is something...else...going on here, Agents," he said in a low tone, "I suggest that you begin to act with the utmost discretion and with respect for the work." A cold sweat crept over Mulder's body. Did Skinner just imply what he thought he had implied? Did Skinner honestly suspect that he and Scully were... Mulder swallowed and tried to breath evenly. "Whatever you are implying, Sir, I can assure you that it is not true," he stated. From the corner of his eye, he watched Scully carefully for a reaction. To her credit, her expression never wavered. Skinner sighed, shaking his head in obvious disbelief. "Listen, I know you haven't taken your assignments very seriously these last months, Mulder, but that is going to change right now. This work is too dangerous to let yourself go. Either of you. You know this." Mulder grunted, defeated. There was nothing else he could or would say to Skinner. As his boss continued his tirade, Mulder's mind wandered. He wondered about the danger of which Skinner spoke. He wondered if it was the work that made him and Scully keep each other at arm's length. He wondered if it was simply the need to stay focused, to avoid mistakes, to save each other's lives. No. There were other forces at play, more than just the physical danger and more than just the work. There was the need to hold on to the status quo, to keep the one good thing he had in his life stable and, hopefully, around for a good long time. There was too much at stake for him to rock the boat and admit his feelings. What would happen is she rejected him? What would happen if she left? What would happen if being any closer to each other was so intense that it destroyed them both? What would happen if he hurt her... Stop it, he told himself. This train of thought never got him anywhere. He forced himself to get his mind back on track. Skinner was still ranting, and Mulder tuned back in just in time for his griping boss' final blow. "If you let yourselves get lax, Agents," Skinner growled, "I will take the files away so fast you won't even remember having them back. Am I clear?" When Mulder and Scully again said nothing, Skinner gave a sigh that sounded like resignation, moving on to the order of the day. "Yesterday, in Denver, a woman was murdered by strangulation. The body was dumped in a local cemetery. This is the third such murder to occur in the last three weeks in the Denver area. When police arrived at the scene yesterday, they found the daughter of a Colorado State Senator sitting atop a headstone near the victim. It was reported that she was in a trance-like state and that she was babbling incoherently. I would like for..." Mulder was sorry he had to interrupt now that the man had finally calmed down. "Um, Sir?" Skinner shot Mulder a look, then continued talking. "Sir," Mulder interrupted again, this time standing up to make it harder for Skinner to dismiss him. "I think it would be better if we postponed this case a day or two so that Agent Scully and I can have a chance to regroup and..." "What? Mulder, what the hell are you talking about?" Skinner slammed the case file down on his desk. "All right, look, I know there is something you're not telling me. These lame excuses are beneath even you, Agent Mulder. Why don't you just come clean?" Coming clean was something Mulder desperately wanted to do. He did not want to be alone in this, alone with this Scully that was not Scully and her potentially dangerous psychosis. But as much as he wanted to, he could not tell Skinner the truth. Skinner would take Scully off duty, and Mulder could not bear that, especially not now, not with the X-files back and their lives finally returned to them. Mulder shook his head, saying nothing. Skinner sighed. "A Senator's daughter is speaking in tongues, Mulder! In a graveyard. With a body. I want you on this case, and I want you on it this morning!" Sitting back down in his chair, Skinner slid the case file toward Mulder. "If you don't leave now, you are going to miss the flight I have arranged for you." "But Sir..." "That's enough, Agent Mulder." Skinner looked over at Scully, making Mulder cringe. "Agent Scully," he said, "you have been unusually silent this morning. Do you believe we should postpone this assignment?" When Scully glanced at Mulder, he saw it in her eyes. She was going to cave. Her compassionate spirit had raised its beautiful head, and she was going to cave. Shit. "No, Sir," she said to Skinner quietly. "I believe we should leave as soon as possible. I want to help that girl, and I don't want to see any more women die". Mulder could not believe what he was hearing. 'There is no way we are going to let him send us on this case today,' he had told her in the car. She had agreed! Damn it, Scully, he thought. He shot her an angry look, then continued to argue with Skinner. "But, Sir, despite Agent Scully's compassionate desire to move forward, I think that..." "I said that's enough, Mulder. You are dismissed. Be on that flight." Skinner turned to the stack of papers on his desk. There was nothing Mulder could do to regain his attention. Taking the file, Mulder led Scully out of Skinner's office. "What the hell was that?" he asked, once they were out in the hall and headed toward the elevator. "How could you agree to go on the case? We had a plan, Scully." Mulder was angry, but after the appearance of her familiar and wonderful compassion, a little part of him could not help but wonder if the real Scully was finally returning. Please Scully. Please oh please oh please be there. "Just what I said, F...Mulder. I want to help those people." She dropped her voice to a harsh whisper. "I need to work, Mulder, to get my mind off...things. And I'm not going to a shrink, Mulder, because I cannot be crazy. I can't. My other life cannot all have been a dream. It can't." She looked around her and sighed, confusion swimming in her eyes. "But neither can this one. Can it?" Mulder was disappointed in her lack of improvement, but he was not at all unsympathetic to her situation. He squeezed her shoulder supportively as they entered the elevator. "Where are we going?" Scully asked. "We need to go down to the office to pick up a few things," Mulder replied. "You know, if we don't go on this case, we'll...you'll lose your job. It's very important to you, isn't it?" she asked quietly. "Yes," Mulder whispered, looking down at the floor and trying to fight the sick feeling in his stomach. The X-files office, refurbished and repainted, now looked very much like it had before the fire. Mulder had come down Friday night, bringing all the files he had reconstructed and all the paranormal paraphernalia he had stashed at home and at the gunmen's. Scully had joined him, and they had spent the evening redecorating. Mulder had hoped that showing her the office would help to stimulate her memory. It did not seem to be working. He watched her dart around, inspecting his bulletin boards, flukeman photos, alien fetus diagram, and UFO sighting charts as if she was seeing it all for the first time. She smiled, and frowned, and raised her eyebrow at everything. He saw confusion and interest on her face and in her eyes, but saw no recognition. Mulder's heart broke, yet again. "Is this really what you...we...do?" she asked. "This is my life," Mulder mumbled. "Your life? You must be terribly dedicated," she commented as she ran her fingers over his leather bound set of Encyclopedia Paranormal. "I've never been able to believe in this kind of stuff. It's all just too much." Mulder rolled his eyes. "Come on, Scully. Who are you kidding? Do you really mean to tell me that..." Mulder tried to go jokingly into his usual 'after all you've seen' speech, but had to stop himself, disheartened. Who was HE kidding? Believer or not believer, all he wanted was his Scully back, and, skeptic or not, this obviously was not her. He was beginning to worry that he would never see the old Scully again. "He would love this place," she said suddenly. She had stopped in front of his new 'I WANT TO BELIEVE' poster and was studying it carefully. "Who would love this place?" he asked, afraid of the answer. "Him...you. Fox." Scully shook her head, giving a frustrated little grunt. Mulder could see the tears begin to fill her eyes again. He went to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, blinking the tears away. "He wants to believe," she said quietly. "But you...this is all you have." She gestured around the office, never taking her eyes from him. Mulder nodded. "This and you, Scully," he said, his voice suddenly hoarse with tears of his own. He slid the hand on her shoulder down to her forearm, where he gripped her tightly. With his eyes, he implored her to come back to him. "This and you," he whispered. "Why?" Mulder sighed, disappointed. "It's getting late," he said. "Let's talk about it on the plane." Scully nodded, and Mulder moved to the door. "What was it we needed to get down here?" she called after him. "It's not here," he mumbled. They were silent on the way to the parking lot, both lost in their own thoughts. Mulder came to the painful realization that he was on his own with this, that he would have to try to help her himself. Having never been a practicing psychologist, he was not sure if he could, but he knew he would have to try. Maybe on the plane. The thought of losing her made him ache so much that his only desire was to scratch his heart right out of his chest. He had to pull himself together, but he felt so heavy, like he was made of lead, like eternity would be over by the time they reached the car. And, of course, just when Mulder thought things could not get any worse, he saw the un-holiest of horrors fast approaching him. It was Marsha What's-her-name from the steno pool. She was on her way in from a late breakfast, no doubt, and was coming at him so fast that he was unable to steer himself and Scully away. She ran right into him, without subtlety and certainly by design. "Agent Mulder! It's so good to bump into you," the woman purred, winking at him. Mulder groaned inwardly, but spoke as politely as he could. "Hi, Marsha." The woman stepped close to him, planting one foot between his legs. She threw her shoulders back, pushing her chest out so that her breasts brushed against his chest. "I would really like it if you would come over tonight so we can finish up what we started last time," she said seductively and, unfortunately, rather loudly in his ear. "We're going on a case," Mulder said, not looking at her. "Well, then, maybe next week." She ran her hand slowly down his arm, then walked away. The sound of her heels clacking on the pavement made Mulder's stomach turn. He was afraid to look at Scully. The real Scully would know what just went on, and they would both be laughing at the secretary's expense by now. He did not even want to consider what this Scully might be thinking. Shuffling his feet, Mulder chanced a glance over at his partner. She stood perfectly still, but her face told him that she was about to start screaming or throwing up, or both. He waited, watching for the start of the onslaught, but none came. Seconds later, he saw her do something so typical of his Scully that he actually felt relieved knowing that she was indeed in there somewhere. He watched, transfixed, as she bottled all her feelings up inside. The uncontrolled emotions, the need to scream, and cry, and strike out faded from her face until all that was left was a look of profound sadness hidden deep in her eyes. Mulder had a lot of explaining to do to his not-wife. Oh God. It was going to be a hell of a flight. SIX: January 22, 1999 Approx. 12:00 PM At noon, Scully went back to her office remembering exactly why she had stopped teaching six years ago. It just did not stimulate her mind the way field work did. Sitting down at her desk, she realized how weary she had grown standing for extended periods in the lab. Her legs and feet ached. She could not remember being this tired after giving a class before. When the baby moved within her, she realized his presence was the cause of her fatigue. His presence. Fox seemed to know it was a boy. She wondered if they had done a test to find out the sex. "There are so many things I don't know about you, little guy," she said to her stomach. She rubbed a hand over her belly, and the baby moved again. The room was quiet and dim. Scully leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes. She took a moment to relax and to focus on the life she now carried within her. It felt like a fullness, like a part of her had been kept empty and waiting, but was now full and alive. It was a feeling she had stopped expecting to experience, stopped dreaming she could know. "Who do I have to thank for you?" she whispered. It was then that she remembered the cube. "Oh my God," she said as she sat upright. The cube. Could this all be because of the cube? Certainly it could not be a dream. It was too real, too long, and she had already tried several times to wake herself up. She went over other possibilities in her head. She could have been having a psychotic episode. Or her real self could be in a coma, and this whole world, the baby, Fox, everything, was all happening in her head. Unfortunately, she did not remember being injured or sick and at risk of slipping into a coma. Perhaps her old life was the farce, perhaps she had made it up in her mind, and this was the real reality. How was that for insanity? But maybe, just maybe, it was the cube. They had not discovered what it was or where it had come from. Perhaps it had caused the lines of reality to switch, or for history to be altered, or...or...something. She was starting to think like Mulder, she knew, but she had exhausted acceptable logical explanations. She did not want to believe that she was once again in a coma, and she could not believe that she was crazy. Never that. All she had left was the parallel universe theory. Terrific. The phone rang, tearing her from her thoughts. She picked up, answering, "Scully." There was silence for a long moment. "Dana?" the caller finally asked in an unsure voice. "Um...yes, this is Dana Scully." "Dana, it's Sam," came the voice, now friendly and relaxed. "Sam?" "You know, your sister-in-law? Dana, are you okay?" Scully said nothing. Her mind was reeling. Sam. Sam, her sister-in-law. Her sister-in-law, Sam. Samantha. Samantha Mulder. "Oh my God," Scully said out loud. Samantha Mulder was alive and well and her sister-in-law and talking to her on the phone. "Oh my God. Samantha." "Dana?" Sam asked again. She sounded worried. Scully snapped her attention back to the telephone and tried to sound as calm and normal as possible. "Samantha. Yes, yes I'm fine," she reassured. "I'm just calling about dinner tonight. I'll be bringing the boys after all, so set a couple extra places, okay, Sis?" Scully was not sure what she was talking about. Dinner at her and Fox's place, she assumed. She played along. "Sure, Sam, that'll be fine. What time did you want to come?" "You and Fox said 6:30. Is that still okay, Dana?" Before Scully could answer, she heard a boy's voice in the background of her phone call. "Mom, is that Aunt Dana?" she heard his muffled voice call out, excited. There was a rustling as the phone apparently changed hands. "Auntie Dana!" the young, exuberant voice exploded happily in her ear. "Mom says we're coming to dinner and I finished that painting of uncle Fox you wanted me to make. I'm gonna' bring it to you. It's really good. My best one yet, Mom says. She wanted it, but I told her I promised it for you and the baby." The boy rambled on, happily. He was very charming and sweet, and Scully liked him right away. Remembering something, she turned to the paintings on her wall and moved the one blocking the picture frame. Inside the frame was a photograph of two young boys, one about eight or nine years old and the other about three or four. "That's great, Jeremy," Scully said, remembering the name that was signed on the paintings. "I can't wait to see you and your brother tonight." "Me too, Auntie Dana. Tell the baby his cousins say hi." Scully laughed. "I'll tell him, although it's probably going to be another year before he can try to say hi back." The boy laughed too. "I know, Auntie," he said, as if he had been humoring a dumb adult. The phone was passed back to Samantha. "I'm sorry, Dana," she apologized. With an ache in her heart that she did not understand, Scully realized that she desperately wanted to meet Samantha Mulder and her two sons. "6:30 for dinner, Sam," Scully said with a smile in her voice. "Can't wait to see you all." "Can I bring anything?" "Just yourself and the kids. And make sure Jeremy doesn't forget that painting." "Okay. Oh Dana! I can't wait to see the untrasound pictures," Sam said excitedly. "I'll see you tonight." They hung up, and Scully sat back in her chair. Samantha was alive, safe, and in her life, and in Mulder's. Where the hell AM I? she wondered for the thousandth time. Scully tapped her fingers on the desk, wondering what she should do until Mulder came to get her at 2:00. She gasped as an incredible thought struck her. If Samantha was alive here, wherever this was, then... She frantically found the Rolodex on her desk and flipped through it until she found the card marked 'Scully, Melissa.' Scully bit back tears as she noted that, in this world, Missy had a California phone number and address. Venice beach, to be exact. She picked up the phone and dialed with shaky fingers. The phone rang twice before Scully heard a voice from the past say, "Hello." She forced herself so speak, though her mouth was dry and her throat tight with tears. "Missy, it's Dana," she said shakily. "Dana! You haven't called in two weeks! What's up?" Tears spilled silently down Scully's cheeks. It had been so long, almost four years, since she had heard her sister's voice. "I just wanted to say hello." "Is everything okay? How's the baby?" "Fine. Ultrasound this afternoon," Scully said as she swatted at the tears on her cheeks. "That's so exciting, Dana! Will you send me a copy of the picture?" Scully could not hold it in any longer. A sob slipped through her lips. It was soon followed by another. "Missy, it's so good to hear your voice," she said through the tears. "Dana? Are you okay, hon? Why are you crying? Is it Fox?" her sister asked in a concerned voice. "No. I mean, yes, I'm fine." She sniffled and wiped away more tears. "I think it's just my hormones going crazy," she lied. "I'm just having an off day. I wish I could see you, Missy. Maybe...maybe I could come out..." "I wish you could, too, Dana. But you know the doctor's orders about flying while you're still pregnant, kiddo." Scully's heart sank, fear creeping into her. She was only a little more than half term. The doctor would not restrict her from flying unless there was something wrong with the baby. Sniffling, Scully tried to speak, but found that she could not. "Dana?" Missy called to her. "Dana, is Fox coming to pick you up to go to the doctor?" Scully could clearly hear the worry in her sister's voice. She wanted so badly to ask her what was wrong with the baby, but refused to worry her beloved sister with her disorientation and her sudden forgetfulness. She would certainly think she was crazy. Sniffling, Scully told Missy that Fox would be coming at 2:00 and that she would be fine. "I have to go in to work now, Dana," Melissa told her. "You take good care of yourself. Call me again on the weekend. I'll have no more of this disappearing for two weeks at a time, got it?" Scully could hear the smile in Melissa's voice. She tried hard to remember her sister's smile, to see it in her mind. "I will, Missy. I'll call again very soon," she said, then hung up the phone. Laying her head upon the desk, Scully let the tears fall. They were tears for the sister she had lost and found and could lose again, tears for the baby that could be in danger even as he floated there, tucked snugly inside her belly, and tears for the sanity she felt to be slipping away faster by the minute. She was still sniffling into her sleeves when she heard her office door open and close. It was Mulder. No, Fox. She could smell him and hear him and feel him in the room. She tried to wipe the tears away before looking up at him. He was standing in front of her desk wearing a goofy grin that faded when he saw her tear- stained face. "Mu....Fox, what's wrong with the baby?" Scully asked quietly, unable to be in the dark one second longer. "What?" Fox's forehead wrinkled, his frown deepening. For a moment, he looked like the Mulder she remembered and loved. Scully tried to speak, but her throat constricted. She swatted at more tears. Fox rushed around the desk to kneel by her side, fear obvious in his eyes. "What is it, honey? What's wrong?" He sounded panicked. Scully felt sorry yet again for making him worry so much about her and her lunacy. She rubbed her eyes delicately, trying to compose herself before she tried to speak to him again. "I can't fly because the doctor is afraid for the baby," she finally said in the strongest voice she could muster. Fox gave her a puzzled look, then spoke gently. "Don't you remember? The doctor said that between your age and the miscarriage, you fall into a higher risk category, and he wants to stick around so he can keep an eye on you. That's all." He put his hand on her knee and rubbed it comfortingly. "There's nothing wrong with the baby, Dana. He's fine. He's fine." Scully nodded. "Right," she whispered. "Right." She was so irrationally relieved that she put her hands up to cover her face and started to cry again. "Hey," she heard Fox say. He pulled her hands down and took her in his arms. "It's okay," he soothed. "It's okay." Succumbing to his embrace, Scully buried her cheek in his warm neck. She felt safe for the first time since she woke up in his bed, their bed. The safety of his embrace was a luxury she would rarely allow herself in the real world, other world, wakefulness, whatever. She was afraid of losing her edge to his soft comfort. She was afraid of losing herself in him. The kiss they had shared that morning still burned at the back of her mind, but she needed him near so badly that she could not pull away. "Where did you want to fly to?" Fox asked, his voice muffled by her hair. "I miss my sister." "Well, maybe we can fly her out to see us soon, instead," he said, rubbing her back soothingly. Scully nodded. Her breathing began to return to normal, and the tears slowed. Suddenly, she found herself chuckling into his neck. Fox pulled away to look at her. "What's funny?" he asked, certainly thinking she was one certifiably, hormonally manic, crazy woman. "I just can't believe we're having this conversation, Mulder," she said through her laughter. Fox looked confused again. Scully wiped the last of the tears from her eyes. "Never mind," she said, her voice much more confident. "I'm fine. Why are you here early, Fox?" Fox smiled the same goofy grin he had been wearing when he had arrived. "I wanted to take you to lunch, to make sure you eat a balanced meal and drink lots of water and juice, and all those other hovering father-to-be things that you hate. Shall we go?" Smiling back at him, Scully went to gather her things. On the way out, she asked Fox if he remembered that his sister was coming to dinner. SEVEN: January 22, 1999 Approx. 1:15 PM "Ladies and gentlemen, we'll be beginning our descent into Denver in approximately fifteen minutes. Please keep your seat belts fastened, and thank you for flying America West," the Captain's voice hissed over the airplane's loudspeaker. Mulder watched Scully carefully out of the corner of his eye. She sat next to him in the window seat, but might as well have been back in D.C., or anywhere, anywhere without him. The uncomfortable silence that had fallen between them after the incident in the parking garage had not lifted, but grown more stifling. He had let it go on too long, not knowing what to say, and he was now very much afraid to break the silence and try to deal with the situation. Every time he opened his mouth to speak, to explain, to discuss, his tongue felt thick and tired in his mouth, and no words could be formed. Scully had spent most of the flight reading through the case file, acting like it was the most fascinating document in the world. This simple fact should have given Mulder some relief. It was normal Scully behavior, after all. Unfortunately, letting her withdraw into the work while he sat there feeling sullen and lonely was not going to improve their situation any. He should say something, his fear be damned. They had yet to really discuss their relationship, and doing so would mean delving much deeper into things than Mulder was prepared to go. There was so much more to discuss than just the thing with Marsha. He had no idea what to say to her. Their relationship was something he had hardly ever been able to explain to himself. He was not even sure if he even wanted it explained at this time, labeled, objectified. It was the most important thing in his life, but explaining it might change it, and there were so many things in their lives and in their hearts that required their relationship to stay the same. Not that any of that mattered, if Scully was truly sick. What was happening to them? On top of everything else, he was afraid that, in clarifying their relationship, he would end up hurting her. It would not be a hard thing for him to do, dunce that he was. How could he tell his partner that she was just his partner, when she truly believed that she was his wife? He was still stunned, but secretly, sickeningly pleased that her inner fantasy life included being happily married to him. He had always known she wanted a child, but never allowed himself to believe that she wanted that baby to be his. But here it was, her psychosis, screaming at him that somewhere deep in her psyche she wanted to have his baby. He shook his head. He just did not know what to say. Mulder took a deep breath, trying to collect himself. The plane was going to land in thirty minutes, and he had yet to do anything to improve their situation. He shifted in his seat, turning toward his partner. She ignored him. Fix this, he told himself. Fix this now. He should start with the Marsha thing. That was probably the reason she was giving him the cold shoulder now, anyway. "Fox..Mulder, you don't believe that girl killed those women, do you? They picked her up when they found this latest victim, but there is nothing to tie her to the two previous crime scenes," Scully said, surprisingly breaking the silence for him. She did not turn to look at him, and her voice sounded uncomfortable and shy, but it was a start. He watched her face, but did not answer her question. Finally, she turned to look at him. Their eyes caught and held. Mulder could see the need to connect with him flowing nakedly over her features, more open, but also more afraid, than he had ever seen Scully before. Guilt pressed heavily on his heart as he realized how much time he had wasted since they had boarded the plane being concerned for himself, blind to the frightening experience this must be for Scully. He took the file from her and closed it, turning to shove it into his brief case. When he turned back to her, she looked away and down at her lap. In her profile, he could see the feelings about to bubble over. He watched as she carefully fought them. "Is she your girlfriend?" she finally asked. "No. No, she's not," Mulder blurted. "It was one date over two years ago, and I was practically forced into it. But, ever since, she's had this delusional fantasy that I'm her sex puppy or something. It's creepy, really, Scully, but normally we laugh at her when she comes around." Scully nodded and rubbed her eyes. "Delusional fantasy..." she said quietly. She shook her head, having to bite her lip to keep from crying. Mulder wanted to cry himself when he realized it was her life she was referring to as the fantasy. "Oh, Scully. I'm sorry," he said. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his forehead against the side of her head. "I don't understand what's going on," she said, her voice breaking. "I know. I know." He squeezed her tightly in his arms. "Am I crazy, Fox?" she asked, pulling away to look for the truth in his eyes. The last thing Mulder wanted to do was tell her that she was crazy. "No," he lied in a whisper. "But this is not my life." "Yes, it is." "No. No, it's not. I don't remember being your partner for the last six years. I don't even remember you ever being an agent. There is no X-files division at the FBI. I don't remember any of this...this." She sighed and looked down at her lap. "I remember marrying you," she said shyly. "When?" "Eighteen months ago," she said, absently rubbing her stomach where she believed her baby should be. Mulder wondered how many times his heart could break before there would be nothing left of him. Somehow, he would have to tell her that she would never have that baby all over again. "The wedding was eighteen months ago," she went on. "But now...but now I wake up one morning and we're not even...we're not..." She stopped talking and buried her face in Mulder's shoulder, trying to hide her tears. "We're not there yet," he finished for her gently. "I don't understand." "We're not there, but I think maybe we were heading that way. We've been friends for a long time, but things have been different these last few months. I don't know, maybe we never would have gotten it together. We've both got a lot of problems." Mulder ran his hand through his hair. "Look, I don't know...I don't know about our relationship. But I'm not going to leave you, okay? I can't be without you. I told you that once, but you don't remember right now." Mulder's heart was heavy and swollen with sadness. He had always wondered what it would be like if he and Scully finally managed to talk about their feelings. He knew it would be terrifying, no matter what, but this was not how he had wanted it to happen. Scully shook her head. "How can I not remember any of this life? And how can I have a whole other life that really doesn't exist? I know this sounds like classic Multiple Personality Disorder, Fox, but I'm not crazy. I want you to stop looking at me like you're scared to death of me. I don't want to be crazy." She did not pick her head up from his shoulder and look at him, but Mulder could feel her taking deep breaths next to him. She was trying so hard to stay in control. Mulder reached up and stroked the back of her head. Burying his face in her hair, he squeezed his eyes shut tight. "I don't want you to be crazy. I don't want you to. You're not, Scully. You can't be," he whispered. He felt her shake her head against his shoulder. "Yes," he continued, "there had to be some..." His jaw suddenly dropped, and he pulled back from her. He wanted to stand up in the isle and kick himself. "What?" Scully asked. "The cube." "What cube?" "We fell asleep with the cube on the table. Hold on," he told her. Keeping a hand on her arm, he picked up the air phone attached to the back of the seat in front of him and dialed a number. He squeezed Scully's arm while he waited for someone to answer. Oh please, oh please, oh please, let this be it, he thought. "Lone Gunman," came Frohike's voice over the phone. "Turn off the tape, Frohike, it's me." "What's up, Mulder?" "I need a big, ridiculously important favor. Think you can handle it?" "Shoot, G-man." "There's a black cube in a plastic bag on my coffee table. I was going to bring it to you guys this morning for analysis, but there were...complications, and I forgot. Can't get to it now." "Want it analyzed for anything in particular?" "Whatever you can find and as soon as possible." "You got it, Mulder. Where are you?" "On my way to Colorado on a case." "An X-file?" "Actually, yes." "That's great, Mulder." "Yeah, I guess," Mulder said tightly. There was a long, uncomfortable pause. Mulder was sure his friend was wondering what could be so wrong that he was not excited to have the X-files back. He'd tell them someday. "Well, okay, Mulder," Frohike finally said. "We'll get right on that." "Thanks Fro. Oh, hey, be careful with it. Don't...ah...fall asleep near it," Mulder remembered to caution. "What the hell is this thing, Mulder?" "I don't know yet," Mulder answered and hung up the phone. "Who was that?" Scully asked. "Help, I hope." EIGHT: January 22, 1999 Approx. 2:30 PM Scully watched the other women in the waiting room. Some of them had huge bellies, swollen nearly to the point of bursting. She wondered if this world would last long enough for her to grow to their size. Gently, she stroked her own belly. Would she wake up before she was able to see this little life come into the world? Mulder-Fox sat next to her reading a magazine. He reached over blindly and laced his fingers through hers. His thumb ran back and forth from her belly to the back of her hand in long, sweet strokes. Scully turned to watch his profile while he continued to read. She could not believe how settled and content he seemed in this life. Maybe it had something to do with his sister being alive and well. She shook her head. Whatever the cause, this was definitely not the moody, self-important, blindly driven Fox Mulder she had grown so fond of in the last six years. This man was loving and open, a teacher, and, as a child psychologist, a friend and confidant to troubled children. He was not restless, like her Mulder, yet he still had a soft spot for his little sister and an interest in the paranormal. As far as she could tell after one day with him, he had all the smarts, compassion, empathy, and integrity of her Mulder, but without all the demons. He was the man Mulder would have been if he had never joined the FBI. No. She could go back even farther. He was the man Mulder would have been if Samantha had never been abducted. "Fox," she asked carefully, "when was the last time you saw your father?" Fox turned his head to look at her. Scully wondered what he saw in her face that made him remove his glasses and drop the magazine down on the empty seat next to him. "Yesterday. I stopped by his office. Why?" Scully shook her head, unable to answer his question honestly without giving herself away. So, she thought, Mr. Mulder lives, and he works somewhere nearby. Interesting, indeed. "How is he doing?" "He's fine. He wanted my help with a patient. Difficult kid." Fox shook his head. "Your Dad had trouble?" "He's never been a very demonstrative man, Dana. He uses his head more than his heart. You know that. His intentions are good, but sometimes, with these kids, he can't see the forest for the trees, you know?" "Were you able to help?" Fox nodded. "I think I was. Oh, Dad said he's going to see Mom at the hospital this weekend. Wanted to know if we would come." Scully nodded. She was shocked. William Mulder was not only alive, but was a child psychologist like Fox. Just as unbelievable, though, was that this William Mulder actually respected his brilliant son. This was a strange world, indeed. She wanted to ask Fox why his mother was in the hospital, but could not come up with a discreet way to phrase her question. She thought back over what she knew of Mulder's father, which was, admittedly, not much. She did know that when William Mulder left the military, he had gotten into some kind of government work, supposedly involving the Consortium. This involvement had some as yet undetermined influence on Samantha's abduction. But, if the William Mulder of this world had not been corrupted by the Consortium, then Samantha Mulder would never have been abducted. Perhaps the Consortium itself never existed here at all. No wonder there were no X-files. Looking over at Fox, she marveled again at the contentment on his face, thanking God that at least in her dreams he had been saved. This Fox's parents had never divorced, or, at least, not badly. He had never spent a day of his life searching for the sister and the childhood he had lost, never joined the FBI, never found the X-files, never met the Smoking Man, never had to be alone during Scully's own abduction. Her own abduction. Dana never would have been abducted, given cancer. Her protruding stomach was evidence enough that her ova had not been stolen. She felt the back of her neck. The little bump caused by the microchip just beneath her skin was gone. Scully felt herself start to tear up. She dabbed at her eyes with the tips of her fingers. "What's wrong?" Fox asked, concern in his voice. "I'm fine," Scully said. She tried to smile up at him. Frowning, Fox wrapped his arm around her shoulders protectively. He watched her face for a moment before the nurse finally called them in to the exam room. In the exam room, the nurse gave Scully a hospital gown, saying that she should change and that the doctor would be in soon. The nurse left, but Scully did not move. She looked from the gown in her hands to Fox, automatically expecting him to give her some privacy, but then realizing that this Mulder would not. Having obviously misread Scully's hesitation, Fox stepped over to her and took her in his arms, sliding his hands down to the small of her back. "Need some help with that?" he asked, his voice low. Scully felt his hands move lower, his fingertips brushing back and forth over the top of her rear. An uncontrollable heat began to ache between her legs. Fox reached to unbutton her blouse. Embarrassed, Scully stopped him, placing her hand over his. Trying not to hurt his feelings, she said gently, "I've got it, Fox." She moved his hand away and took a button between her fingers. "I really need to use the ladies' room. Will you please go ask the nurse where it is?" Fox smiled, kissed her on the side of her head, and went out into the hall in search of the nurse. When the door swung shut behind him, Scully breathed a sigh of relief and changed into her gown. She folded her clothes and placed them on a chair. Looking around, she noticed the exam table, complete with stirrups, sitting like a holy altar in the middle of the room. Not quite ready to hop up on the table, she sat in the chair and held the clothes in her lap. Fox returned shortly. He was explaining to her the location of the rest rooms when the doctor came bustling in. "Hello, Dana, Fox," the doctor said. "Hello, Doctor Green," Fox said, shaking the doctor's hand. "How are you both?" Fox gave Scully a questioning look. "I can wait till we're done," she told him. Fox nodded. "We're great, then, Doc," he told the doctor. "Why don't you hop up on the table, Dana?" the doctor requested. The table was obviously made for taller women. Scully wiggled her pregnant body up onto it with Fox's help. "How have you been feeling?" asked Dr. Green. "Fine," Scully lied. "Any more spotting?" Scully looked down at her hands. She did not know, and she hated to have to guess at something so important. "No," she said, wishing she could run home and check her underpants for stains. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. She could feel frustration starting to boil in her stomach. Her inability to answer the doctor's questions could be so dangerous for the baby. She felt like she had amnesia. Oh God. Looking up, Scully realized that Dr. Green was asking her to lay back so he could 'take a look.' She leaned into the semi-upright back of the table, then put her feet in the stirrups. Picking up some instruments from a tray, the doctor took a seat in front of her. Mulder, no, Fox was hovering around the doctor's shoulder while he prepared to look up Scully's proverbial skirt. "Fox," Scully called. She gestured for him to come stand by her so that he would not be treated with such a good view. He stood by her head and took her hand. When she squeezed it tightly, he asked if she was nervous. "Yes," she confessed. She was worried that the doctor would find something wrong with the baby. What if she had been spotting recently? She had no idea. The doctor lifted her gown and took his look. Scully held her breath while he poked and prodded. "Everything looks good," he finally pronounced. Scully let out a sigh of relief. Fox squeezed her hand and brushed his thumb over her skin. Feeling uncomfortable again at the intimacy of his touch, Scully slipped her fingers from his grip. "Okay, let's do a sonogram," the doctor said enthusiastically. So consumed with a combination of excitement and relief, Scully found that her voice would not work. She nodded to the doctor. He went to work exposing her round belly and, thankfully, covering the rest of her with a cloth sheet. He slathered her stomach with clear lubricating gel and adjusted some instruments on an electronic machine next to the table. Moments later a picture appeared on the machine's screen. It was hard to discern a human figure in the picture, but Scully could definitely make out a tiny heart beating steadily. The tears she had been holding in check since before lunch spilled over, running down her cheeks. Feeling Fox touch her arm, she grabbed his hand. She laced her fingers through his, but never took her eyes from the screen. The doctor was moving a little device over her belly and inspecting the resulting picture. "Do you want to know the sex?" he finally asked. "Yes, please," said Fox. The doctor pointed to something on the screen. "See this? Looks like you're going to have a little boy." Scully looked up at Fox. He was grinning like the goofball she knew he could be sometimes, even in this world. He bent down and said into her ear, "See? I knew it." "You did?" Scully asked and then looked back at the screen, at her baby boy. More tears rolled down her cheeks. Fox gave her a funny look. She thought it was a look of worry, but she was really paying little attention to him. "We had a bet, remember?" he asked. When Scully said nothing, he continued to explain. "You thought it was a girl, and I thought it was a boy." Scully looked at him blankly. "Come on, Dana. We've been arguing over this for weeks. No, months." "Okay, you win," Scully conceded. She squeezed his hand and went back to watching the baby. Fox nodded, then moved very close to the screen in order to inspect his handy work. Apparently finished with his own inspection, the doctor finally turned from the screen and looked at the proud parents. "Is everything looking good?" Fox asked. "Looking great," assured the doctor. He pointed to the picture. "Here's his head, arms, legs curled up under him there." Nodding to the doctor, Fox ran his fingers down the screen, over the image of the baby. When he turned to make eye contact with Scully, she saw that he too was tearing up, eyes slicked and shining with emotion. The joy, awe, fear, relief, and confusion swimming around inside Scully forced her to fight for control. She bit down hard on her lip to keep from falling over the edge and breaking down in a torrent of sobs. Soon she tasted blood in her mouth, and Fox was at her side, wiping at her swollen lip with a tissue. He bent down, his face close to hers. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly. More tears fell silently down Scully's face. "That's our baby," she said quietly. "Yes. Our baby boy," Fox said with a smile. "You owe me five dollars, by the way, Mrs. Mulder." Scully nodded and tried to smile at him. He kissed her lightly on the nose, then turned back to the monitor. Watching him, Scully realized that she had never seen so much love on his face, in his eyes. She had never doubted that her Mulder was capable of loving this fiercely, but it was always something he had tried to keep hidden, something that always took a back seat to his quest to find the truth. This Mulder showed so much love, for her, for the baby. What a wonderful dream, Scully thought. And if it is not a dream, what a wonderful life. "Have you two had enough?" the doctor asked, smiling. "Could we have another minute?" Scully was finally able to ask. The doctor nodded. "Do you have any questions for me?" "Actually," Fox started, stepping over to the doctor and leaving Scully to watch the baby, "Dana has been having some memory lapses and disorientation all day. Could that be related to the pregnancy?" "Just today?" Fox nodded. "It could be the hormones, or fatigue. Or a combination of the two. Or it could be stress." The doctor turned to Scully. "Dana, have you been feeling extra stress the last couple of days? Anything out of the ordinary going on? Maybe at work?" Scully almost laughed. Well, she thought, shouldn't that win the prize for understatement of the year? "Anything out of the ordinary..." Her mind returned to the cube. It's appearance in her life was certainly out of the ordinary, for the most part. Usually, when they found some unidentified or unexplainable piece of evidence, it was gone before they could even get it home. The cube. What if it had made some kind of alteration in history so that William Mulder never joined the Consortium, or so that the Consortium was never formed? Scully took a deep breath and told herself to stop it. This train of thought was crazy, impossible. Still, accepting this level of insanity was not an option. Somehow, the cube had to be responsible for her appearance in this strange but familiar world. A voice inside her, one that she kept bound and gagged as well as she could, reached out and asked a very hard question. It wanted to know which life she would prefer. Did she want this life, or the old one? Did she prefer the moody partner, dangerous job, barren womb, dead sister...? Looking at the picture of the baby on the monitor, she found that she could not answer. "Dana?" someone asked. Scully suddenly realized she had been ignoring the two men hovering around her. "Dana," the doctor prompted, "you were going to say that maybe there is something unusual going on at work, something that may be causing you stress?" "No. Not that," she said. "I was a bit nervous about coming here. Maybe that was it. I don't know. I know I don't quite feel like, well, myself. Today." She watched Fox for a reaction. He nodded his agreement. Obviously, he had noticed her acting strangely. She wondered what his Dana was like. "It's most likely just the hormones and the stress. A higher risk pregnancy is certainly never totally stress free," the doctor said. "Just get some rest and call if you don't feel better in a few days." Scully nodded and thanked the doctor. After putting his instruments away and turning off the machines, he left so she could get dressed. She sat up as the door swung closed behind him. Fox collected her clothes from the chair, then moved back to Scully. Facing her, he took a seat on the edge of the table. "Good thing I made sure we got the blue paint for the baby's room," he said, grinning. "Stop gloating, Mulder." Scully bit her lip in frustration. She had meant to call him Fox. Luckily, he did not seem to mind just then. Instead, he chuckled and leaned forward to take her in his arms. Exhausted and grateful for the support, Scully pressed her cheek to his and dropped a hand down between them to rub her belly. She decided she had to know if this was all real, if this kind of happiness could possibly be theirs. She had to find the cube, and she had to tell Fox the truth about what may or may not have happened to her. She had to tell him that she was not the Dana Scully he thought she was. He deserved to know. "Fox," she said against his cheek. He pulled away and looked at her, smiling sweetly. His eyes were shining with tears of happiness. He was so happy, and she was so happy to see him so happy. Scully could not tell him. She could not bring herself to hurt him the way she knew what she had to say would. Not then, not there. "Nothing," she said. "It's nothing." They smiled at one another. "Do you still need to visit the ladies' room?" he asked, handing over her clothes. "Yeah." "Okay. Let's get going." NINE: January 22, 1999 Approx. 3:00 PM Mulder was relieved that the plane landed before Scully had a chance to ask him a million questions about his conversation with Frohike and about the mysterious black cube from outer space. He could tell she wanted to push him for information, but they were met by an agent from the local bureau and were ushered off to the crime scene as soon as they stepped off the plane. The cemetery was crowded with local police and FBI scouring for clues. Mulder shook his head, wanting to give his full attention to the case, but afraid his mind would always be occupied by Scully. An older man in a dark suit approached them, introducing himself as the head of the bureau's Denver branch. "The Assistant Director tells me that you two are the best crime scene analysts the FBI has to offer," the man said, forcing a smile before he turned back to the scene. Mulder and Scully followed the man over to the headstone where they had found the body. "The best crime scene analysts in the bureau, huh?" Scully whispered to Mulder, obviously flattered at the man's compliment. "I guess so," Mulder said quietly as he inspected the tombstone. There was not much extraordinary about it. He really needed to interview the Senator's daughter, but the local police were holding her down at the precinct. He would have to talk to her later. Mulder poked around the scene some more and then quietly found a tree to lean against while he made some mental changes to the profile of the killer he had done in the cab on the way from the airport. Several minutes passed before he realized that he had lost track of Scully. He quickly scanned the cemetery for her, spotting her red hair as she leaned over one of the headstones. She looked in the file she carried with her and then called to some of the police investigators to find a current address for a Doctor Raymond Vara. She poked around the scene some more and then found Mulder aside from the others, still leaning against his tree. "What did you find?" he asked. "Dr. Vara was treating Senator Richardson's daughter for depression," she explained. "The headstone the body was draped over happens to belong to Dr. Vara's daughter-in-law, Elena Jennings. I think maybe we should pay the good doctor a visit." "Hmm. The plot thickens. Good call, Scully," Mulder said. He was glad to see that she still had her keen investigative eye. At least they could keep up the facade that everything was as it should be. At least they could work together. "I like being out in the field," she said, a sad smile on her face. "I know you do," Mulder said gently. He put his hand on her shoulder. "Look, you're supposed to do the autopsy on this latest victim this afternoon. You up for that?" Scully nodded. "Okay, let's get going. We should stop and check into the hotel." Mulder turned to go talk to the other officers. "Wait," he heard Scully call. When he turned back to her, he saw a familiar, stubborn, I won't take no for an answer look on her face. "I want you to tell me about this cube," she stated. Mulder sighed and bowed his head. He knew she would not buy his story about the cube. She would think he was even more crazy than she did not want to believe herself to be. He fumbled for some words. "Look, Scully, I don't think..." "I deserve to know, Mulder. I understand that you're upset, but this is happening to me, not you. Why are you being so cryptic? Do you think I don't want to know what's going on? Why are you afraid to tell me, Mulder? You're scaring me." God, she can still read me like a book, he thought. He knew he was a selfish bastard, but... He rubbed his hands over his face and tried to put her off again. "Scully, you won't believe me until...so...I think..." "Fox Mulder, we're going to stand here until you tell me. I know you have a theory, I can see the wheels turning in your head. I will not do the autopsy, there will be no checking into any hotel, and no case will be solved until I hear it. Now spill." "Shh, Scully, keep your voice down, all right? I'll tell you, but you remember that you asked for it," he began in a hushed tone. "Two days ago I dragged you, my partner and dearest friend, off to the Virginia State Forest to look for an unofficially reported downed UFO. Instead, we found a lot of burnt out ground and the cube. It was a strange thing made of a material you couldn't identify by sight or touch. A perfect cube, cold and black, and it felt like metal, but was non-reflective. And it had little holes in it." He shook his head. "Anyway, I guess the crash recovery team must have missed it in the dark, so we took it home to have it analyzed. We fell asleep on my couch with it next to us on the coffee table and boom, next thing we know, we wake up, and you're not you anymore." He looked down at the ground, not wanting to go on. "And?" Scully prompted. Mulder sighed. Of course she knew there was more. "Well, I think that somehow the thing, the cube we found, caused some kind of a warp in time or space." He sighed again. "I know this sounds like Star Trek, but let me finish. I think this warp somehow caused history to change, but to only change for you, Scully. So, in the history that you lived, I never joined the FBI, you never got assigned to the X-files, somehow we met anyway, and got married, and got pregnant, and lived happily every after." He swallowed hard, waiting for her reaction. "Only for me," she said quietly. Mulder nodded. "OR, I think maybe this warp caused my Dana Scully to switch places, or maybe memories, with another Dana Scully from a different but parallel universe where events in history took place differently." Now that was a funny thought. Maybe his Scully was on her own adventure in a universe where she was married to him. Good Lord. "What year is it for you, Scully?" Scully did not answer his question. Instead, she was watching him carefully. "Scully?" he asked again. She started to laugh, hard, but it was not the laughter of a woman who had just heard a supremely funny joke. Her laughter was hysterical, that of a woman who's mind had reached its limit. It reminded Mulder of another time, in another cemetery, almost six years ago. It was a happier time, raining, beautiful. He had pushed her to believe, and she had laughed and in her own way agreed to try. This time, it was a dry, gray day, and her laughter was frightening. He grabbed her arm to get her attention. "What year is it? What date?" he asked again. "It's January 22, 1999," she said, sobering a little. "SEE? The day is the same for you, but the history that led up to this date is totally different. Parallel universe." Scully rolled her eyes. "No, I don't see. That proves nothing. And the possibility of the same person existing simultaneously in multiple universes is...well, it just isn't. There's no possibility. It's not possible." "I knew you would say that," Mulder mumbled. Scully's face had turned several shades of angry red. He remembered that the Scully he was dealing with now was more like the one he knew five years ago, a hard core skeptic. There was no way he was going to get her to buy his theory, and what he was saying was only upsetting her. He had to back off a bit. "Look," he said gently, "I know you think I'm nuts. But I'm just not willing to accept any other explanation right now. You're...my Scully's not crazy, okay?" He was practically pleading with her to put up with him, but she said nothing, only huffed at him and pushed a piece of hair out of her face. He squeezed her shoulder. "My friends are analyzing the cube right now. Let's just wait and see if they find anything, okay?" Reluctantly, Scully nodded. "All right, Fox. We'll see what happens with the cube." Mulder was surprised by how easily she gave in. He searched her face and found only pity in her eyes. She thought he was in denial. He sighed. Maybe he was. "Why don't you do the autopsy?" he suggested. "It might keep your mind off things until we hear from the guys." Scully nodded. "Where will you be?" "With you." "You don't have to baby sit me," she said defensively. Mulder shook his head. He did not want to leave her by herself. Scully scowled at him. "Why?" she asked. "Are you afraid I'm going to slip up and someone will find out about your crazy partner? That I'm not who I'm supposed to be?" Her voice had grown loud. Mulder saw that some of the other agents had noticed their argument. He was reaching the end of his rope now, getting frustrated and angry. Taking a deep breath, he fought to control his temper. He was only trying to protect her. She never did like that much, though, did she? "Scully," he begged through clenched teeth, "can we please just go do the autopsy? Someone has to stop this murderer before more women die." That got her. He knew it would. The color drained from her face, and her eyes softened. He thought she was going to apologize for yelling at him, but that seemed to be too difficult. "Fine," she said quietly. She turned and headed toward the car. Thank you, Jesus. In three long strides, Mulder fell into step beside her, his hand at the small of her back. TEN: January 22, 1999 Approx. 6:15 PM Scully had spent the entire ride home from the hospital kicking herself for being afraid to tell Fox about the cube and her theory. Now all she wanted was a few minutes alone to clear her head. She sent Fox to the grocery to buy some lemons for the fish she would be cooking. Once he was gone, she climbed the stairs and picked out comfortable but unfamiliar jeans and an old sweater she remembered buying while she was at Quantico. It was funny how some things were different in this world, while others remained the same. The things she recognized were all things she remembered acquiring before she had been assigned to the X-files. Everything except Mulder...Fox. She wondered how they had managed to meet in a world with no X-files to bring them together. Wandering around the house for a few minutes, she found herself in the baby's room. It was practically empty and needed a lot of work. She wondered what kind of cradle they would end up buying, if they had not bought one already. Cans of blue and white paint were grouped together on the floor, and there was a pile of toys in the corner. A few small pieces of furniture were covered with sheets, waiting for the baby to make his entrance. The room was very small, she noticed, and so was the rest of the house. Catching herself thinking that they would need a bigger home soon if they had more children, Scully ended her little exploration of the house. She hurried off into the kitchen to start dinner, telling herself vehemently that this was not her life. Scully had not cooked for anyone but herself in years. It was a mundane but pleasurable task that she hoped would keep her brain occupied. She wanted to push the whole strange situation from her mind. It was too much, and she still did not know what to do. Sooner or later, she would have to go look for the cube, whether it hurt Fox or not. She was frightened of what she would or would not find. Shaking her head, she got to work on dinner. While the fish baked and the vegetables simmered, she watched the neighborhood through the big picture window over the kitchen sink. Her house, their house, had a white picket fence and a little green yard where the baby would play. A stone walkway cut through the center of the grass and ran up to her front door. Tears began to form in Scully's eyes. She batted them away. "How did I get here?" she wondered aloud. Several minutes later, two cars pulled up almost simultaneously in front of the house. Fox emerged from one of them with a bag of groceries tucked into one arm. A tall woman and two little boys got out of the other car. Samantha. Fox trotted over to hug his sister and the boys. Scully smiled as he picked up the taller boy, slung him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, and headed toward the house. Samantha took the smaller boy's hand, and they followed Fox up the walkway. Scully took a deep breath and prepared herself to meet the woman she and Mulder had been seeking for the last six years. She heard the front door open. The house filled with the sound of happy voices, with the bustle of bodies entering the living room, and with the echo of a small boy giggling and crying for his uncle Fox to put him down. "No way," Scully heard Fox say. "Dana! Look what I found," he called before he appeared in the kitchen doorway, giving her a goofy grin and showing off the bounty he carried over his shoulder. The boy craned his neck around and grinned at her as well. "Hi, Aunt Dana," he said. Scully recognized the exuberant voice from the telephone call they had shared before lunch. "Hi there," she said and smiled. "Fox, why don't you put Jeremy down so he can come over here and give me a hug?" "Oh, all right." Fox slid the boy gently to the ground. "There you go, Jer. I'll just go torture your brother." Fox disappeared back into the living room, and Jeremy went to Scully, wrapping his arms around her. He was tall for his age, reaching just past Scully's shoulder, and thin. He had smiling blue eyes that she did not recognize. Must be his father's eyes, she thought, and then wondered who his father was and where he might be. Leaning down, the boy kissed her big belly gently and then ran off to find his brother and his uncle. Samantha appeared in the doorway carrying a smaller boy of maybe four or five. She looked every bit like the clone Scully and Mulder had been introduced to several years before. She was very tall, with brown, curly hair and hazel eyes that were deep and sympathetic like her brother's. This Samantha, though, seemed much happier and more relaxed. Scully smiled, knowing that this was not a clone, but the real thing. "Hi, Dana," Samantha said. She smiled, gave Scully a little hug, and then hefted the little boy more securely on her hip. "Say hello to Auntie Dana, Josh," Samantha told the boy in her arms. Little Josh said nothing, but inspected Scully carefully from the shelter of his mother's arms. Scully brought her hand up to her mouth to stifle a gasp when she realized that the little guy was a dead wringer for her partner. He had the pouty Mulder lips, bright hazel eyes, dark, rich skin, little round chin, and soft brown hair cut in bangs across his forehead. He was quite a looker, this little boy. He also seemed painfully shy. His chubby little arms were wound tightly around his mother's neck, his chin tucked low into his chest. He peered up at Scully, inspecting her carefully. He looked like Mulder did when he had a particularly difficult puzzle to work out. She wondered if his shyness towards her, his aunt, was an indication that he sensed things were not all right with her. Sometimes, in their innocence, children could be aware of things adults were not. She gave the boy a reassuring and sweet smile. He smiled shyly back and held out his arms for her to take him. Scully reached for the boy, but Samantha pulled him back. "Hold on, there, Josh. Auntie Dana can't hold you because it might not be safe for the baby in her tummy," she explained gently. Scully blushed with embarrassment. She should have known that she should not hold Josh. "Hi, sweetie," she said to the boy, taking his chubby little hand and rubbing her thumb over the soft baby skin. The boy smiled at Scully, then wiggled in his mothers arms until she let him slide to the ground. He walked tentatively up to Scully and put an awkward hand on her belly. "Be gentle, Josh," Sam told him. Scully could tell that Sam was a great mother. She wondered what kind of Mom she was going to be. Biting her lip, she pushed that thought away. Although she had always wanted the baby in her belly, she was saddened by the knowledge that it was hardly her own, if it was real at all. "Hey, Dana," Sam was saying, "are you okay? Want to sit down?" "No, no, Sam. I'm fine." She smiled to reassure Samantha, but if Sam was as perceptive as her brother, she knew there would really be no fooling her. "How did it go with the doctor?" Samantha asked. Scully smiled a real smile this time, remembering the picture of the little life wiggling around inside of her. "It was fine. Great, actually. I'm sure Fox can't wait to show you the ultrasound pictures he hasn't let go of since the nurse gave them to him." Samantha laughed and nodded. "He showed us before we had hardly even made it in the door. He's such a proud Daddy already. I can't wait to see him when the baby's actually born." "Lord help me," Scully laughed. "You're going to need it. I have no doubt the he'll be more of a handful than the baby. When I was oh about nine or ten and he was fourteen or so our dog, Maisey, had puppies. Fox would not leave her side, nor would he leave the pups alone once they were born. She was very patient with him, but I know he drove poor Maisey up the wall." Samantha shook her head, smiling at the memory. "Loyal to the end," Scully mused. "Yep. That's Fox." "Sam, did you say you were nine or ten when the puppies were born?" Scully asked suddenly. "About that." "Are you sure?" Sam nodded. "Why?" Scully shook her head. "No reason," she said more sharply than she had intended. "It's nothing. Dinner's about done." Sam nodded, then picked up Josh, who was still petting Scully's stomach. She leaned him over the sink to wash his hands before dinner. Turning back to the stove, Scully tried to hide the elated look she knew she wore on her face. If Sam and Mulder were together when he was fourteen and she was ten, then the abduction either never happened here, or was very brief and Sam was returned to her family. She guessed that the abduction never occurred at all, since it seemed that Bill Mulder never joined the Consortium. Thanking God that these Mulder's had been spared that nightmare, Scully turned to put dinner on the table. Over dinner, she managed to fill in the most vital of blanks. It turned out that Samantha was a photographer for a magazine and that her husband was some kind of an architect or a builder. When Sam mentioned that their tenth anniversary was approaching, she seemed pleased, but Scully was unable to learn why the man had not joined them for this happy family dinner. Scully also wondered how long Fox and herself had been married, but could find no tactful way to ask something she should have known so well. Before she knew it, Fox was setting dessert on the table, making the boys' eyes go wide with joy. She looked around, taking in the scene. She observed Samantha and Fox, together and smiling, the children licking ice cream from their spoons, the cozy little house, the baby wiggling around in her belly. Their lives were so blissfully normal. Scully had to force down the sudden urge to go search the closets to see where they were hiding the mutants. Over dinner, Scully had spent the most time watching Fox. He was so happy, sociable, and so different. His immutable sense of humor was there, but his jokes were not bitter, dry, or defensive. He was a man content with his surroundings and with the people that filled them. This man's childhood was obviously not one plagued by a broken family, a missing sister, and all the ridicule his family and his neighborhood could find the time to give him. It made all the difference in the world. His face and eyes were bright and guilt free. This was a man who did not push the people he loved away out of fear that they would leave or betray him. She just could not get over the difference. Scully caught Fox's eyes, and he smiled at her. Their connection was there, as ever, only now it was more open and accepting. There was no fear between them, and she could see unencumbered into his soul. She was startled to realize that if she was truly able to have the happy life, the white picket fence, the proverbial bun in the oven, this was indeed the man she would want to share it with. At the same time, though, she was painfully aware that this was not the same man she had spent the last six years growing to care for like no other. The finger of guilt touched her heart. She despised herself for even thinking that she preferred this perfect Mulder over the real Mulder, the one who needed her so much, yet took every opportunity to push her away. She hurt for him, knowing that he would never ever know the kind of carefree happiness that Fox had known all his life. After dessert, they all retired to the living room. Scully sat in an easy chair while the others gathered around the couch and coffee table. Scully watched Fox play a board game with the boys. He and Jeremy would grin conspiratorially at each other and then let little Josh win. When they were finished, Josh yawned and crawled up into Fox's lap. He wrapped his little arms around his uncle's neck, tucked his head under his chin, and began to doze. It would be time for them to go home soon. Jeremy looked up at Scully. "Oh my gosh, Aunt Dana, I almost forgot," he said. He got up and trotted into the kitchen only to return clutching a large piece of paper. "Here's that picture," he said, handing her the paper. Scully gasped. The picture was done in pastel, and the colors were light and earthy. It was very good work for a child of eight or nine, but Scully thought it to truly be a treasure because of the likeness it captured. All of Mulder's brilliant intensity looked back at her from the page. The eyes were bright and alert and focused, and she could even detect a hint of Mulder's infamous moodiness. If this was how Jeremy saw his uncle, surely her Mulder must be inside Fox somewhere. "It's beautiful, Jeremy," Scully said. The boy smiled proudly. "I think it's my best." "Let me see," Fox said from the couch. Reluctant to let it go, Scully gently passed the picture over to him "You can't have it, Uncle Fox. It's for the baby," Jeremy cautioned. "Don't worry, Jer. It would look pretty vain for me to hang such a handsome picture of myself in my office, anyway," Fox said with a teasing smile. Scully stood and embraced the boy tightly. "Thank you, Jeremy," she said, fighting the tears that had filled her eyes. "The baby will love it. I'm going to hang it in his room, okay?" Jeremy nodded, and Samantha stood up. "I think it's about time we were heading out," she announced. Fox stood and handed the sleeping Josh to his Mommy. After they said their goodbye's and their thank you's, Fox saw his sister and his nephews out to their car. Scully was sorry to see them go. She started to feel terribly out of place now that the house was empty. She gazed at the picture of Mulder that Fox had set on the coffee table. It was almost too painful to look at. Where had her life gone? Where was Mulder now? Was he out there somewhere, in some other world, some other time? Or had Mulder been erased, and Fox was what was left in his place? Scully was startled when a pair of strong arms wrapped around her shoulders. She had been so lost in thought she had not heard Fox sneak up behind her. He pulled her back against his chest, burying his face in her hair. He was warm and comforting, and she closed her eyes. "That was fun, hmm?" he asked tiredly. "Yes. When will we see them again?" "I think Sam's going to come to see Mom on Saturday." "Mmm. That's good. We better go clean up the kitchen, Fox." "I'll do it." "But..." "The doctor said you need some rest. I know you're tired. Why don't you go upstairs and lay down? I'll be up in a bit, okay?" He slid his hands down to caress her stomach and then her hips. His hands were large and warm, and Scully was liking his touch a little too much. She knew that if she was not careful she could drown in him, deny her situation, deny herself, and get lost there in some other woman's life. "I'll go upstairs," she said, pulling gently away from him. "Thank you, Fox." Taking Jeremy's picture with her, she went to find the staircase. She could hear running water and dishes clanking in the distance as she entered the bedroom. Mulder seemed to make a very thoughtful husband. Who would have guessed? In the bedroom, she noticed the bed. There was nothing really special about it, except that it was the only bed in the room. She realized she had been too busy and too exhausted to even think about the sleeping arrangements. For a moment, she thought about sleeping on the couch in order to avoid a repeat of that morning's amorous quandary, but she did not want to needlessly hurt Fox. She sighed. She knew she had to come clean with him, but she was so tired and so apprehensive of his reaction. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, she told herself. The bed did look soft and inviting. She decided to climb in, try to sleep, and hope that Fox would not approach her. She dressed in a pair of pink cotton pajamas, shut the light, and slid beneath the covers, placing the picture of Mulder on the night stand next to her. Curling up on her side, her back facing the empty side of the bed, she closed her eyes and hoped that she would wake up in the morning to find that this day had all been a pleasant dream. When she splayed a protective hand over her bulging belly, she remembered the joyous time she had spent watching the baby that afternoon. She wondered if she really did want to wake up. She could not stop missing what she had lost when this insanity had begun, but she also enjoyed what she had gained and hated to think of losing it again. An hour or more passed while Scully lay still, but awake. Finally, she heard Fox come in. Remaining perfectly still, her back to him, she tried to imitate the even breathing of sleep. He rustled around a bit, and then she heard him undoing his shirt, then his belt and his pants. There was a soft thump each time a piece of clothing hit the floor. "What time do you want to get up?" he asked. Scully said nothing, still clinging to the hope that he would think she was asleep. "Dana? The alarm. What time?" he asked again. Her sleeping ruse did not seem to be working. Before she could decide what to do or even think about what time she might need to be up in the morning, she felt him lift the covers and slide into the bed. He stretched out behind her and tugged on her shoulder. "You okay?" His voice was quiet and full of worry. Scully rolled onto her back, defeated. "I'm fine," she told him. Turning her head to see his reaction, she got caught in his eyes. They were lit up beautifully by the moonlight pouring in through the window. He was so close, leaning up on his elbow next to her, that his face was almost the only thing in her field of view. She tried to move her gaze away from his eyes, but found no place safer to look. His lips, his stubbly chin, his forehead, they were all just as enticing and as dangerous as his eyes. With his free hand, he reached to brush the hair from her face and then to caress her cheek with his palm. Scully cleared her throat. "How did you know I was awake?" she asked. Scooting even closer, Fox bent to lean his forehead against hers. "Your breathing. Were you hiding from me?" he asked, his voice half joking and half hurt. She did not know what to say, and her body grew tense and rigid. "No," she finally lied in a whisper. His breath was warm on her lips and chin, his mouth inches from her own, and his eyes were so close she could almost feel the tickle of his eyelashes brushing against her each time he blinked. Scully felt lost and out of control. There was no escaping his eyes. He was looking at her like he wanted to meld his whole being into hers. This was something that she knew she was not ready for from him, something that she wanted in the future, but had barely allowed herself to even fantasize about yet. It had always been too much, too dangerous. Fox was focused on her completely. It was frightening, hypnotic, and highly erotic all at once. She wanted him to touch her everywhere. She wanted him to go away and leave her alone. She had never been so confused in her life. His hand still rested on her cheek, his thumb caressing her skin soothingly. He tilted his chin forward to bring their mouths together in a kiss that was sweet and, at least to him, familiar. His lips were warm, moist, and soft against Scully's, his kisses short and tender. Surprising herself, she did not fight him. She let herself enjoy his affection, relaxing into him until what they were doing and where it would inevitably lead registered in her mind. As her whole body stiffened, her mouth stilled against his. Fox pulled away. "Dana, please tell me what's wrong. You've been running hot and cold on me all day. Did I do something?" "No," Scully said in a small, uncomfortable voice. "I just don't feel very much like myself." Fox ran a gentle hand down her cheek and neck to her shoulder. "It's okay. Flip over," he commanded. Scully blinked. "What?" "Flip over. The baby book says massage is great for hot and cold days like today." Stunned, she blinked at him some more, but did not move. "Besides," he said as he took her by the shoulders and rolled her gently onto her belly, "it gives the Dad a chance to participate." She could hear the leer in his voice and wanted to take that baby book and smack him over the head with it. He flipped on the bedside lamp and straddled her thighs. Scully looked over her shoulder at him looming above and behind her, dressed only in boxers and a T-shirt. At least he had not climbed into bed naked. "Fox, you really don't have to..." "Shh..." he cut her off, putting a hand on the back of her head, turning her face back to the pillow. Scully was not surprised by the fact that Fox was every bit as relentless and Mulder. She felt him push the hair from the back of her neck. Warm, soft fingers began to work the tight muscles there. Scully relaxed a little, and he moved his fingers down to the base of her neck. She had to admit, this was exactly what she needed to calm down. Thinking he would move down to her shoulders next, Scully was surprised when he ran his fingers straight down her spine to knead her lower back. She felt him start to lift the back of her pajama top, pulling it up toward her head. She tried to wiggle out from under him, to stop him, but he placated her with gentle but firm hands on her shoulders. "It's okay, lay still," he said. "I've got it." Having obviously misunderstood her protests, he gave her shoulders a little squeeze, then slid her shirt up to the base of her neck. He gently picked up each of her arms and tugged them from the sleeves. "Head up," he commanded. Too tired to contemplate why she was complying, Scully lifted her head, letting him slide the shirt over it and out from under her body. She turned her head on the pillow in time to see him toss the shirt aside, leaving her wondering when and how she was going to get it back. Bracing herself on her hands, Scully tried to push herself up from the bed, but dropped back down when she took in the reality of her nakedness, hiding her exposed chest back on the bed. Before she could call out again in protest, Fox's hands were soothing her muscles and her skin. There was warm, gentle pressure on her shoulders, her back, and her spine as he moved in small circles and big circles, up, down, around and back again. Scully felt like her body was melting into the bed beneath her. She had spent six years trying not to think of what his hands would feel like on her skin, and this was exactly why. She could lose herself, lose control, in his touch. She should have refused this massage before it had started. By the time he tugged her pants down a few inches to rub the tops of her hips, she was so lulled and content that she was at a loss to stop him. Shame soaked much of the pleasure from the insistent throbbing between her legs. Somehow, she had done the unthinkable, she had lost control of the situation. She struggled in vain to stay her flighty heart and to even out the shallow breaths she took while her face was buried in the pillow. She gasped as his fingers made their way up her bare sides. They applied the same gentle pressure to each of her ribs and then to the sides of her breasts. Now, she could not breathe at all. She felt him shift his weight forward. "Relax," she heard him whisper, his breath warm on her neck and ear. His hands had stopped moving, and Scully felt warm, soft lips on the back of her neck. They were gently kissing and nuzzling, nipping and sucking. The warm softness of his lips in contrast with the scratch of his stubbly chin and cheek sent an erotic tingle through her body. She could not resist the urge to buck her hips into the bed. Before she knew what was happening, the lips were gone from her neck, and he had taken her by the arms and flipped her over onto her back. Scully froze. He hovered above her, still straddling her thighs. She watched him glance over her bare breasts and stomach before he looked up to catch her eyes. He was beautiful, his eyes never greener, his long bangs tumbling into them. His lips were red and shiny and wet. Scully felt her heart in her throat as she recognized in his face adoration, lust, and an intensity that she had only ever seen directed toward a case, or a secret source, or a lead on a lost sister. Scully knew she should not be embarrassed over her nakedness. This man had obviously seen her before. Beyond that, though, she had no idea what to feel. Should she be ashamed for wanting this Mulder who was not hers? Should she be ashamed for wanting any Mulder at all? She did not know. If this was a dream, was making love with Mulder really what her subconscious longed for? Fox continued to watch her face as if it would tell him what she wanted, and then he kissed her. It was not a sweet and intimate kiss like before, but hot and wet and deep. Scully responded in kind, sliding her tongue against his, nipping and sucking his lips, exploring his teeth, his cheeks, the hard roof of his mouth, and the soft, silky area beneath his tongue. He broke the kiss to pull his T-shirt over his head, then found her mouth again as he settled himself on top of her. He wrapped her in his arms. Her nipples tingled as they rubbed against the soft hair on his chest. Scully moaned when he left her mouth to trail tiny kisses along her cheek to her jaw and her neck. He paid special attention to the soft skin below her ear, just behind her jaw. He licked and kissed and teased her there. Scully was lost and in heaven. Of course he knew all her most secret and sensitive spots. She wrapped her arm around his neck and wove her fingers through the hair at the back of his head, praying that he would never stop. With her free hand, Scully ran her fingers up and down his back. The skin there was smooth, and the muscles beneath it sleek and hard. The man had not an ounce of soft fat on him. Surprisingly, the weight of his hips on hers did not feel trapping and stifling, but comfortable and safe. She moved her hand down, sliding it inside his boxers and cupping his ass. He had settled himself firmly against her. She wound one of her legs around him, pressed down on his buttocks, and ground herself against him. Tiny flames of pleasure danced from her center, trailing down her arms and legs. Fox grunted and pulled his lips from her neck, leaning his forehead against her shoulder to catch his breath. Scully dropped a kiss on his temple, his skin warm and soft like silk beneath her lips. He looked up and into her eyes for a moment. She saw that his eyes were full of desire and love. Then he slowly kissed his way down her chest, teasing her nipples with his tongue before stopping at her belly to nuzzle it with his cheek and lips. Taking hold of her waistband, he pulled her pants down and away, then disposed of his own boxers. Scully caressed his shoulders as he repositioned himself over her, settling his hips back into place and kissing her lips sweetly. She wiggled against him when she felt silky, hot skin and hair pressing against her where their hips joined. She rubbed the inside of her thigh against his hip, begging him to be inside her. He groaned, his breathing ragged and heavy against her face, and shifted so that he was poised at her entrance. Scully slid both her hands down his back to his hips. Instead of pushing into her, though, he shifted his weight slightly and rose up on one elbow. He cradled her cheek in his free hand, bending his head down to rub his own cheek and lips against her face. Scully nuzzled him back, feeling like her heart was going to explode right out of her chest for this man. She moaned, "Mmm...Mulder." "I love you," he whispered, his lips near her ear. "Oh God, Dana, I love you so much." Scully froze. "Oh God," she whispered, fear and shame spilling out in her voice. Fox pushed himself up on his hands, looking down at her. "What?" he asked quietly. "Oh God." Unceremoniously, she pushed him to the side and off of her. She rolled away from him, onto her side, and curled up into a ball. Feeling naked, cold, and far too overwhelmed to keep control, Scully began to cry. ELEVEN: January 22, 1999 Approx. 11:20 PM Mulder leaned back against the headboard. The hotel bed was lumpy and uncomfortable, but he knew sleep would not find him no matter where he lay. Files and papers littered his lap and the bedspread. Knowing he was unable to concentrate on anything, he slipped his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. The Gunmen had called while Scully was doing the autopsy that afternoon. They had found nothing on the cube. Its substance was not even identifiable with the most cutting edge materials science techniques. Hoping that the cube could magically make Scully well again, regardless of the disheartening test results, Mulder had asked his friends to overnight it to him. Now the waiting was killing him, the case was not being solved, and he was afraid more women were going to die. He had sent a very tired looking Scully off to shower and sleep so that he could go over their progress on the case. She had done an excellent and thorough job on the autopsy. On the job, she seemed as professional and focused and brilliant as ever, but Mulder knew that he and she were not nearly as in sync as they had been just the day before. He still felt a very strong connection to her, he always would, but it was like starting their relationship over from day one. He was not sure how he felt about that. There was a quiet knock on the adjoining door. Mulder opened his eyes in time to see Scully appear in the doorway. Her hair was wet, her face fresh and shiny. She was wearing the black pajamas he had bought for her that afternoon. She hovered there, watching him, giving him a look that he had never seen before. Her wide eyes told him that she was frightened, almost needy, needing of him. "Let me guess, you found some mosquito bites on your back," he joked. She blinked at him, but her expression did not change. She had no idea that he was referring to the first case they worked together so long ago. The night they had realized they could trust each other was gone from her memory now. "Can't sleep?" he asked quietly. "No," Scully answered hesitantly and in a small voice. She never stopped watching him. He felt like she was drinking him in with her eyes, searching for some lost connection, or even some lost person or soul. She was looking for the man she thought was her husband. With a start, he realized that she could not sleep because he was not there in the bed with her. Pushing his files away and moving to one side of the bed, he patted the mattress next to him. The fear on Scully's face was replaced, to some degree, with relief. Mulder felt bitter-sweet, irrational surprise when she came over and settled down next to him. His Scully would have avoided sharing the bed and gone to sit in the chair, if she would have come into his room at all. Propping a pillow behind her, she leaned back against the headboard and stretched her legs out. Her body was close enough for Mulder to feel her warmth next to him, even though they were not touching. They were quiet for a long time, looking at the blank wall in front of them, trying to become comfortable in each other's company and proximity. "Will you tell me about yourself?" Scully finally requested. Mulder nodded, but did not look at her, turning his gaze down towards his lap. There were so many things he did not want to talk about, most of all himself, but he felt that he owed her the truth. Maybe hearing it would help her remember. He slid down so that he was flat on his back, fixed his gaze on the ceiling, and began his tale. Between his sister's disappearance, his repressed childhood, his father's death, Cancerman's games, and his sister's reappearance and rejection, he had her in tears within twenty minutes. He had not even gone into a little bit of the horror that had been her life these past six years. She slid down next to him, burying her face in his shoulder. He could feel her body quivering next to his. A little awkwardly, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She rested her head on his chest and wrapped an arm around his waist. She was sniffling, and her breathing hitched with her effort to hold back the tears, tears for him. He gave her a little squeeze, then buried his face in her hair. "It's all right," he said soothingly. "I'm all right. I've had you with me for the last six years, and I'm all right." "And we...you and she...never...?" she tried to ask. "Never," he whispered into her hair. She nodded against his chest. "Why not?" Mulder said nothing for a long time, long enough for Scully's sniffling to stop and for her breathing to fall into a comfortable rhythm against his. "I don't know," he finally said. He looked down at her. Her eyes were closed, but her face was not peaceful. Tension was visible in the lines around her mouth and across her temple. Her body felt good in his arms, but Mulder was disappointed that these were the circumstances under which he was holding her in bed for the first time. He wondered if anything would ever work out right. "Tell me about him," he requested after several more minutes of silence. Mulder had not realized how unprepared he was to hear Scully's version of Fox Mulder. In her world, or her dream world, he was a child psychologist and a teacher. He had married his Dana Scully eighteen months ago. She considered him to be kind, funny, charming, brilliant, and exuberant. His father was alive and well, and, unbelievably, also a child psychologist. His mother had suffered from a stroke a few months back and was recovering in a hospital in Chilmark. His sister was alive, never even abducted. She was a photojournalist and had two children. Sometimes, the kids would come and stay with him and Scully when Sam was out of town on assignment. He had nephews. He had a baby of his own on the way. When she finished her story, Mulder found that he was the one holding back the tears, blinking and hardly breathing. He wanted her version of Fox Mulder's utopia to be real so badly. "Sounds like a good life," he said. "It was." Mulder could not believe that, if this was Scully's subconscious talking, she saw him as the white knight she had just described. She thought he was this perfect man. He had the family that loved him, the wife that adored him, and he loved them back properly. Those were the only truths this dream Mulder sought. He sighed, resigning himself to the fact that, while it was a nice dream, he himself could never have been that man. He never could have been good for Dana Scully. He had brought nothing but pain and darkness to this woman's life, and he had never been there for her as he knew she deserved. Out of fear, he had kept himself a distant and often malignant, but ever constant, presence in her life. "How did we meet?" he wanted to know. "It was at the FBI. I teach at Quantico, but sometimes I give lectures at headquarters. I met you there three years ago, while you were consulting on a profile for VCU. You do that now and then. Anyway, we understood each other from the start. We may not have always agreed on everything, but we have been happy since we met. What is my...what is Scully's life like?" Mulder took a deep breath. There was no way he could answer her now, tell her that her life was a nightmare, that her life was a nightmare because of him. He had watched her absently rubbing her barren stomach throughout the day. She thought there was supposed to be a baby there. He had noticed that she had not been able to speak of this missing child since that morning. How was he going to tell her that there would be no child in her womb ever? How was he going to tell her that he was not the man she needed him to be, the one that made her feel happy and loved? How could he ruin his beloved twice in one lifetime? Mulder felt a terrible turmoil building in his chest. His throat felt hot and tight. His muscles tensed, and his lips quivered. Tears were welling up in his eyes, threatening to slide down his cheeks and land in Scully's hair. He wanted to release them. He wanted to clench his teeth, wrench his muscles into tight balls of energy, and wail for himself, and for Scully, for the life that he would never have, and for all that had happened to ruin hers. He wanted to cry for everything that was wrong inside him, for everything wrong that had happened in the past, and for everything that had gone wrong since he woke up with Scully curled in his arms on his couch that morning. Biting his lip, he held the tears at bay. He could not cry. He could not open himself to her. He feared there was never going to be a time that he could let her in, never truly let her know how much he needed her. He had tried once, been forced to, actually, but as soon as he admitted that he needed her, she had been stung by a bee and taken away. He was afraid he would ruin her, that he already had. Then he would lose her, and she would destroy him. Love 'Em and Lose 'Em: The Fox Mulder Story. God damn it. "Scully, I do know why we've never..." he started, but she cut him off. "You're broken." Mulder chuckled. He felt her chuckle too. "How did you guess?" "I live with a psychologist." They were both silent for a minute. "What would he say?" Mulder asked in a whisper. "He would say that because you lost the most important person in your life at such an early age, you now have difficulty connecting with others and understanding your relationships with them." "That about covers it." His voice was filled with bitterness, and he knew she could hear it. She gave him a little squeeze with the arm she had slung across his waist. "You're a good man, Fox. I know you are. I'm sure she does, too," she said sincerely. The tears escaped and rolled down Mulder's cheeks. He sighed, frustrated. "Why does it always come back to Samantha? Sometimes I want so desperately to have her back. But it's not out of the desire to see her safe or to right a wrong, but out of some crazy notion that if she returns I'll be able to put it all behind me, that I won't be broken anymore. And then I feel so guilty because I'm such a self-centered bastard. And then there's you, you who I can't live without, but who I am so afraid of losing or destroying that I keep you at arm's length. I push you away just enough so that you aren't too close, but not far enough to make you leave. Why can't I get over this?" He sighed and sniffled and swallowed hard, trying to pull himself together. Scully was silent and perfectly still in his arms. How embarrassing, he thought. A few kind words and a hug and I'm crying and spilling my guts all over her. He swiped at the tears that fell freely down his cheeks, surprised at what he had just managed to say to her. He remembered that once, a long time ago, he had suggested to her that we are who we are because of the way other people react to us. Somehow, with this different, healed, whole, happy Scully, he had become a different man. "You know," he finally said through his sniffles, "we never talk like this." Scully said nothing for a moment. Mulder wondered if he had upset her terribly. "Well, I guess we do now," she finally told him, her voice surprisingly calm and confident. "I guess we do," he said, holding her a little more tightly. He thought that this new line of communication might be the only good thing to come of whatever was afflicting his partner. "Do you feel better?" she asked. "You know what, Scully? I do. I do." In a sudden fit of courage, he decided that he would take advantage of the situation, that he had something more to say. "Scully?" he said, tugging on her sleeve. She picked herself up on her elbow and looked at him, her eyebrow raised in a familiar expression. "Scully, I just...I..I mean..." His heart sank when he realized that he had no idea what to say to express his feelings for her. He bit his lip in frustration. "What, Fox?" she asked gently. He sighed. "Never mind." She was not really Scully, anyway. Gently, he pushed her head back down to his chest and tucked it under his chin. "Go to sleep," he whispered, closing his own eyes. "Mulder?" she said after a few minutes of silence. "Hmm?" "Is she broken, too?" Mulder thought for a moment. Scully was the strongest person he had ever known, but so much had happened to her, and to him. She never told him or showed him how she felt about it all. Had she been ruined? "I don't know." TWELVE: January 22, 1999 Approx. 11:30 PM Scully's body shook with the force of her tears. He had said he loved her. This time, she knew he had meant it. There were no drugs involved. The connection she and Mulder had shared, but had kept veiled and ignored for years, was splayed open and naked in this strange house. Scully felt uncomfortable and overwhelmed. Fox was not Mulder. But he was. From behind her, his hand found her bare, shaking hip. He tugged at her, trying to turn her to face him. When he spoke, she could hear the panic in his voice. "Dana? Did I hurt you?" he asked. "Is it the baby?" He slipped his hand over to caress her bare belly. Without turning to look at him, Scully pushed his hand away from her body. "I don't think I can pretend anymore," she said, her voice strangled and tremulous. "What?" "This. I'm not ready for this. It's too sudden. Overwhelming," she rambled through her tears. "I thought...I guess I thought I could be happy here, if I let myself. Could have everything I've always thought I was missing. I could have you. Just for a little while. It's not time yet, Mulder. There are things, things we still have to do, and wounds that still need to heal, before we can do this." Scully felt him shift on the bed, and then he became very still. "What are you saying, Dana?" he asked quietly. When Scully said nothing, he took her by the shoulder and hip and forcibly rolled her onto her back. He held her there by her shoulders while he knelt on the bed next to her, trying to read her face. "What are you talking about, Dana?" he demanded. Then, in a whisper: "Are you saying you don't want me and the baby?" Angry at being manhandled, Scully pushed and hit at his chest. She wanted him off of her. She could not be in this submissive position. She needed control. His touch burned against her skin, causing a stirring below her belly. "You don't understand," she said when she failed to make him move. "You're right. I don't understand. Talk to me," he requested. His voice was even and in control, but there was a terrible fear in his eyes. Scully had never wanted to hurt him like this, but she did not know what else to do. Embarrassed at her emotional outburst, she tried to pull herself together. She took a deep breath and wiped some of the tears from her cheeks. Giving him what she hoped was a look of total honesty and seriousness, she said in the steadiest voice she could muster, "I'm not your wife, Fox." "What? What are you talking about?" "Just hear me out, okay? My name is Dana Scully. Two days ago my partner in the FBI, Fox Mulder, dragged me to the Virginia State Forest in search of a downed UFO. We found what could have been a crash site, but any debris left by whatever crashed there had been removed. Except for the cube. Black, non-reflective cube about the size of your fist. We had never seen anything like it. We took it home, well, back to your place. We fell asleep on your couch, and when I woke up, I was here. I think...I think the cube changed things somehow." Fox pushed himself off of her, sitting back on his heels. His face had gone totally blank. He watched her carefully, but he himself was emotionally closed off. Scully wondered how much damage she had done. "If this is a joke, Dana, it's not funny," he said very seriously. For the first time, Scully realized that the whole situation was rather funny in its own sick little way. Just as she had been unable to control her tears, she now could not control her laughter. It rattled through her chest and spilled from her mouth, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. "It's not a joke, Fox," she said as her giggles finally began to taper off. Fox continued to watch her. "I think you should go see a doctor," he said conclusively. Scully rolled her eyes and laughed bitterly. "You don't believe me. Figures." She shook her head and rolled off the bed. She found her pajama top on the floor and slipped it over her head. "You need to talk to somebody about this. What you are suggesting, it just isn't possible. You need to see a doctor." "You think I'm crazy." Fox looked down at his lap, but said nothing. Scully's heart sank. Without looking back up at her, he found his boxers and slipped them back on. "Fox..." she began. "No. The doctor. Tomorrow." "No, Fox. Listen. Where is that paranormal newspaper you were reading this morning?" Flipping on the lamp, she began searching around the room. "Look, Dana, I know I believe in a lot of strange things, but not this. That you are not who you are supposed to be? That you have led some other life, that you are not my wife? I can't believe that. I won't believe that." "No, Fox, you don't understand," Scully said impatiently. "Where is the paper?" Fox went into the bathroom and returned with that morning's edition of Paranormal Daily News. Scully took it from him and flipped through it frantically until she found what she was looking for. She thoroughly chastised herself for not thinking to look there before. In large print on page three was an article entitled, "UFO Crash in Virginia a Government Cover Up?" She gave the paper to Fox. "Here, look. This is it. This is where we found the cube. The crash happened here, too." Sighing, Fox let the paper fall to the floor, then stepped close to her. He took her by the shoulders and pulled her to him, resting his forehead on the top of her head. "Dana, please, let's go see the doctor tomorrow," he begged. Putting her hands flat on his chest, Scully pushed him away. "I am going to the forest tomorrow," she stated. "You can come with me, or not." Fox's face was about to crumble, despite his obvious effort to remain calm. Scully could see the tears forming in his eyes. "Please, Dana," he appealed again, "I know you don't want to hear this, but I really do think something serious may be wrong." It had never ever been easy to say no to this man. It was even harder when she knew he was right. Rationally, she had to accept that there could very well be something going wrong in her brain. "All right, in the morning we'll go look for the cube. If it is not there, I'll go with you to the doctor. Okay?" Fox closed his eyes. His body seemed to relax some, but when he looked at Scully again, she knew he was still terribly upset. He swiped at the tear that had rolled down his cheek, then took her in his arms. She held onto him as tightly as he held her, truly sorry for having to put him through any of this. His embrace was warm and safe, the skin of his chest soft against her cheek. Scully knew she could not stay there long. When he pushed up the back of her shirt to caress the skin on her back, she gently removed herself from his arms. She turned away from him and got back into the bed. Curled up in a tight protective ball, she buried her face in the pillow and listened to the familiar rhythm of his footsteps as he left the room. THIRTEEN: January 23, 1999 Approx. 1:00 PM Mulder asked the woman at the hotel's front desk if a package had arrived for him. The clerk said she would check and disappeared to another room, leaving Mulder drumming his fingers on the counter. He and Scully had spent the morning doing interviews for the case, trying to give the cube time to arrive. Mulder tapped his foot in time with his drumming fingers. "What's taking her so long?" he growled. "I'm sure it's here, Fox," Scully said. She stepped up beside him, slipping her hand into his. He brushed his thumb back and forth across the back of her hand. The hotel lobby was busy, but Mulder found too much comfort in her touch to care who saw them holding hands. She had been touching him all morning, in their rooms, at breakfast, at the interviews they had done for the case, at lunch. It was never anything terribly intimate, but just a little touch here or there, on his arm, his back, his shoulder. Occasionally, when there were no work related people in the vicinity, she would hold his hand. He was sure she did it for her own comfort, but he took solace in it as well. Even though he knew she was not entirely the Scully he had grown to love, Mulder found himself enjoying their new level of companionship. Every touch was a benediction, making him feel just a little bit more like he could live with himself. He had slept with different versions of Scully in his arms twice in as many nights, and he had slept very well. Scully slipped her hand from his, trailing her fingers up his palm to caress the inside of his wrist. The touch sent a bolt of fire to Mulder's groin. When his body went rigid, she looked up at him. He found himself desperately wanting to kiss her, to suckle her neck where it had been exposed when she had inclined her head towards him, to nibble at the skin on the inside of her wrists, to do to her what she was doing to him. Taking a deep breath, he decided that maybe he was enjoying her affection a little too much. Sadly, he pulled his hand from her grasp. He needed to keep his perspective, needed to focus on getting his Scully back. The hotel clerk finally returned with a brown, paper-wrapped package. After Mulder signed for it, he and Scully went back up to his room. Sitting in the weathered hotel room chair next to the weathered hotel room table, Mulder ripped open the package. He took out the cube and examined it. Holding it up to the light, he moved it around in the air, changed its angle, pointed the little holes at Scully, pointed them away from her. Nothing happened. He put the cube on the table, feeling dejected and disappointed. "You don't know how it works, do you?" Scully asked. "No." Mulder looked down at the floor. Scully picked up the cube and handled it for a minute. Nothing happened for her, either. "Nothing," she said. Mulder slammed his fist down on the table. "Damn it!" he shouted. "I has to work, Scully. It has to. I don't know how to make it work." Going back to studying the carpet, he heard Scully put the cube back on the table and move towards him. Close to tears, he was unable to look at her. Standing between his knees, she reached out and took his chin, turning his face up to meet her gaze. In her eyes, Mulder saw great compassion mixed with stunning fear. "Don't, Fox. Please," she begged. Her hand slid from his chin to cup his cheek. Almost involuntarily, he leaned into her touch. She began to stroke his cheek with her palm, brushing her thumb over his lips and his nose. Closing his eyes, he nuzzled his face into her hand. He had spent six years wondering how he would feel if she touched him this way, with love and tenderness. Now he knew. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself inside her, to merge with her so deeply that he would never have to know himself again. It had to stop. He wanted to work through these feelings with his Scully, the woman who knew every part of him, the one who had spent six years holding him up on her shoulders while they traveled through hell together. He needed to share his demons and his wounds with her; he needed to heal. As good as it felt, as good as it seemed to be for his sanity at the moment, Mulder knew that this woman's caresses were meant for someone else. "No!" he yelped when she pressed a gentle, pleasant, wonderful kiss to his forehead. He stood up, forcing Scully to take a step away from him. "I can't... This is not how it's supposed to be." He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face, a frustrated knot forming in his stomach. "Fox, I wasn't trying to seduce you." "I know, but I wanted you to," he growled. He grabbed the cube, squeezing it tightly in his fist. His knuckles whitened. He could feel the cube's sharp edges cutting into his skin. "Work, damn you," he seethed at the object. "Work." "Fox, don't." Scully tried to pry the cube from his hand, but he refused to let it go. "Come on, Mulder, stop." "Do you have any idea how much I want her back?" he yelled into her face. She took her hand from his, holding it up in the air, and backed away from him. "Yes," she said quietly. "Yes, I do." Mulder looked down at the floor, shaking his head. "What if I'm stuck here forever?" she asked. Before he could answer, she fled the room, closing the connecting door behind her. Mulder sank back down into the chair. Cradling the cube in his lap, he bowed his head and closed his eyes. FOURTEEN: January 23, 1999 Approx. 1:30 PM With the extra weight she was now carrying, Scully was not surprised to find herself short of breath. They had been hiking for well over an hour. She stopped walking, as she had done many times on their trek, and leaned against the nearest tree. Pulling out the map they had picked up at a coffee shop on their way up, she tried to track their progress. She smiled. If she remembered the location of the site correctly, their hike was almost over. Moving up behind her, Fox wrapped his arms around her waist and looked over her shoulder at the map. "We're almost there?" he asked. "Yes. Ten more minutes or so," Scully panted, her breathlessness obvious in her voice. Fox nuzzled her temple and her ear. "Are you okay? Should we stop and rest?" he asked, his voice soft and concerned. "No. Rest when we get there. Not far." "Okay." Fox held her hand as they began again to follow the trail that would hopefully lead to Scully's exit from this strange world. That morning, Scully had found Fox in the kitchen cooking breakfast. He had not been dressed for work, but had been wearing jeans, a beige sweater, and brown hiking boots. When she came in, he had sat her down at the table and told her she needed to eat something if they were going hiking in the forest. Scully had been touched and surprised to find that he was ready to follow her, even though he did not agree with where they were going. He had not returned to bed the night before, and she had been certain that her revelation and rejection had hurt him so badly that he would have withdrawn completely from her by morning. There was still sadness and worry in his eyes, but, instead of retreating physically and emotionally, he sought comfort in her by touching her in any way she would allow. Scully was back in control of herself, after long hours laying awake, wrestling with her emotions and her hormones. Feeling safe in her control and wanting desperately not to hurt him, she allowed him to wrap his arms around her, hold her hand, and kiss her cheek. Looking down at their joined hands, Scully admitted to herself that she also was finding comfort and strength in his touches and in his presence by her side. He felt warm and safe. He always had. She squeezed Fox's hand, then let it go, aware that she had to be careful not to allow herself to become too comfortable there. He was like Mulder in so many ways, all the wonderful ways, but he was not Mulder. She planned to return to her own Mulder the first chance she got. They turned off the trail and passed into a clearing. The ground around them was burnt out, the trees and vegetation either dead or dying. Fox commented that it looked like a plane had crashed there. Scully just shook her head and moved to the fallen tree where they had found the cube. Reaching inside the tree's charred and hollowed trunk, she removed her prize. A flood of relief passed through her. She was not crazy. "It's here, Fox," she called over her shoulder. Fox stepped up beside her, putting his hand on her shoulder. "Oh my God," he whispered when he saw the cube. Shaking off Fox's hand, Scully held the cube out in front of her, hoping it would do something. Come on, send me home, she thought at the cube. Fix this. She turned it in all directions, but nothing happened. Fox sat down hard on the fallen tree trunk. He took the cube from Scully's hands, inspected it, and then set it down on the tree stump behind him. "It's true," he said. His face was blank, stunned, like he was in shock. "Can you make it work?" "I don't know." Shaking her head, Scully stepped up to him, standing between his knees and putting her hand on his shoulder. There was so much misery in his eyes when he looked up at her. She wanted to do something, to say something to put him at ease, but there were no words. She knew what Mulder looked like when he was being torn apart inside. Fox looked that way now. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "At least I'm not crazy." Looking down at his feet, Fox swallowed hard. "I can't accept this," he said. "Fox, I just handed you proof. How else could I have known exactly where the cube would be, if I had not already found it in my own world?" "No. I will not accept this. If...if this is true, if you are from another place, my wife is gone. I know it's usually impossible for me to discount anything paranormal, but this is my family here. If you're not her, how the hell am I supposed to get her back?" His voice quivered with raw emotion. Scully felt her heart breaking for him. Dana Scully, the other Dana Scully, was this man's entire existence. She had to remember that this was not her Mulder, that this man did not need her. This man needed his wife, and he needed her more than Scully could ever comprehend. Taking a tiny step closer, Scully wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He slipped his arms around her waist, burying his face in the valley between her breasts and her bulging belly. "Wherever she is, Fox, I know that she loves you with all her heart," Scully said, running her fingers through his hair. "Like I love him." As she bent to place a kiss on the top of his head, Scully saw tiny beams of light shoot from the holes in the cube behind him. As the cube began to spin, the beams hit Fox across his lower back, then disappeared. It happened so fast, Scully had no chance to react at all before it was over. "What the...?" Fox said. He pulled back from her a bit, putting his hand on her big belly. "Scully?" he asked, looking up at her. Scully gasped, her eyes going wide. Searching his eyes, she was certain something had changed. "Mulder? Is that you?" "Scully! It's you. I mean, yeah, it's me." He looked down at her belly, rubbing his hand over it. "It's true, Scully. Look at you. I thought I was grasping at straws, believing what I needed to, but everything she said was true. I was in my room, and now I'm here, with you. Just like that." Smiling with relief, he wrapped his arms back around her and squeezed her to him, burying his face in her chest. The embrace lasted hardly a second before he pulled back, taking his hands from her body. "Sorry," he whispered, looking embarrassed. Scully took a step away from him, certain that a pink flush of embarrassment was also tainting her own cheeks. Not knowing how to explain the nature of her relationship with Fox, not to mention the intimate position they had been in when Mulder had 'arrived,' she said nothing. Mulder looked around, taking in their surroundings. "We're back at the crash site." "Fox and I came to look for the cube. I thought it might have had something to do with...this." Mulder nodded. "He calls himself Fox. Why am I not surprised?" Shaking his head, he gave her a familiar, exuberant smile. "Jesus, Scully. Do you know what this means??" "Parallel universes do exist, despite the fact that the laws of physics prove them to be an impossibility?" "You know, someone very special to me once told me that nothing occurs in contradiction to nature, only to what we know if it." Scully nodded, then looked away from him. "We're going to have a hell of a time rewriting the laws to explain this, Mulder." "Yep." "It was the cube, by the way. I saw little beams of white light shoot out of the holes and hit you...him." Tired from hiking and standing and consoling, Scully sat next to Mulder on the log. "We weren't able to get ours to do anything. How did you get it to work?" Mulder asked. "I don't know. It was just sitting there on that stump when it happened. Maybe it activates randomly." Mulder put the cube back on the stump. "What were you doing when it happened?" Scully could feel herself blushing again. Looking down at her feet, she kicked at a stone with the tip of her boot. "Scully?" "Fox wasn't handling all of this very well. He didn't want to believe me, even after we had found the cube out here where I said it would be. I guess I can't really blame him. I was trying to comfort him. I was...we were hugging when the cube activated. A second later, you were here, and he was gone." Mulder nodded, taking her arm. "Come here." "What?" "Come here." He tugged on her arm. When she got up and stood in front of him, he pulled her into an embrace similar to the one they had been in when he had arrived. Scully was a little stunned, but recognized what he was trying to do. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders and again pressing her lips to his head, she watched the cube for any activity. Nothing happened. Scully gasped. "Wait, Mulder. Wait," she said, scared. She reached behind Mulder, took the cube, and repositioned it so that it sat next to them on the log. "Last time, when it was back there, the light only hit you, and only you switched," she said, replacing her arms around Mulder's shoulders. "What's the matter, Scully? Didn't like living in a world without me?" he asked, looking up at her and smirking. She looked down and away from him, embarrassed. "Oh Scully," Mulder whispered, resting his cheek back against her chest. Several long minutes passed as they held their embrace in silence. Scully's attention began to wander to the feel of Mulder's hands on her hip and her back. They felt warm, intensely possessive, and surprisingly comforting. She was so glad to feel the real Mulder breathing against her, his head tucked under her chin. The urge to kiss the top of his head and caress the back of his neck was overwhelming. She pulled away. "It's not working, Mulder." Mulder shook his head. "Guess it doesn't activate based on what we're doing." "No. It seems to be random. I guess we're just going to have to sit and wait it out." Scully sat on the ground and leaned against the tree trunk. Mulder slid down next to her, placing the cube in front of them. They sat silently, close, but not touching, the air between them uncomfortable. Mulder played with the wedding band he had discovered on his finger. Scully could tell that he wanted to ask her something, but he remained nervously quiet. Knowing that he needed time to process recent events, she looked away from him. "So, Scully, how did you like married life?" he asked after several minutes passed in silence. "It's not bad," Scully admitted, a small smile curling her lips. She looked over at Mulder. His eyes were focused on the ground where he was using his finger to draw random shapes and patterns in the scorched earth. "Did you...did he...did you and he..." Mulder stuttered, still looking at the ground. "Oh, never mind." A red flush ran up his neck and across his face. Scully wondered what was going on in his head. He had never been embarrassed to ask her anything before, and, over six years of partnership, she had never seen him blush so severely. She was pretty sure he had been trying to ask her if she and Fox had been performing their marital duties, so to speak, while she was there. Scully looked away, down at the cube, embarrassed by what had almost happened in Fox's bed the night before. More minutes ticked by uneventfully. Mulder was still silent and lost in thought. Scully found herself regretting that their little parallel universe adventure had made them so uncomfortable with each other. With a pang of fear and guilt, she wondered if they had always been so removed from one another. Had it taken two days of touching, holding, and loving a similar but different man to make her see and feel the distance between herself and the one who was really in her heart? She rubbed her belly, wondering what would happen if they had to stay there. When the baby kicked, Scully jumped. "Ow! That hurt, you," she said to the little life in her tummy. Mulder snapped his head up and looked at her, fear in his eyes. "What, Scully? What is it?" Laughing, Scully put her hand on his arm. "Calm down, Mulder. He's just kicking." "It's moving?" he asked, eyes wide. He was leaning towards her. His hand twitched like he wanted to touch her, but was afraid. Scully took his hand and placed it palm down on her belly, resting her hand on the back of his. "It's okay to touch me, Mulder," she told him. The baby shifted again, causing Mulder to gasp. "I felt it Scully," he said excitedly. "Did you feel it?" He smiled at her stomach, looking truly enchanted. Scully laughed. "Of course I felt it, Mulder." "God, Scully, this really is incredible." The awe in his voice was touching. When he started rubbing his hand over her stomach, caressing it like it held the most precious thing in the world, Scully felt hot tears begin to creep into her eyes. "The doctor did a sonogram yesterday," she said quietly. "I wish I had the picture to show you." Nodding, Mulder removed his hand from her belly. Scully stopped him from pulling away, taking his hand and lacing her fingers through his. Fox had shown her that she was capable of handling and enjoying his touch. Now that the right Mulder was with her, she found herself craving it, craving connection rather than discomfort. Feeling his warmth move into her through his palm, she wondered if she would ever be able to keep her hands off him again. Mulder watched her rub her belly with her free hand. "Scully, do you want to just stay here?" he asked quietly. He reached out and picked up the cube. "I could just get rid of this. I mean, you could never..." "I could never have this," Scully finished for him, looking down at her belly, "if we go back. I know." She thought for a moment. She wanted the baby, wanted it so bad it hurt. But... She shook her head. "This is not my life. It belongs to someone else, was created by someone else. I need to go back to the life I was living." Chewing at her bottom lip, she told herself again and again that she meant what she had just said. Mulder nodded but remained quiet. He looked sadly at the cube. "Mulder?" Scully asked tentatively. "I haven't had a chance to tell you this, but...Sam's here." "I know." "She told you," Scully said, referring to her other self. He nodded. "Do you want to go see her?" "No," he said, not taking even a moment to consider his decision. Scully was surprised that he would decline, but she did not want to push him for the reason. After a long silence, he explained on his own. "She's not the right one. I'm glad that she's alive and happy here, but she's his. It's all his." There was not a hint of bitterness in his voice, only calm resignation. He seemed to notice her looking at him strangely. "I don't belong here. I'm okay with it, Scully," he said. Scully nodded. "This is not your life, either." "I'm broken," he mumbled, shaking his head. "What?" "Forget it." He put the cube back in its place in front of them, then returned his gaze to Scully's bulging stomach. She searched his face. He looked calm but very distant. "Mulder, I do know that I don't want to leave here if you can't come with me," she said, squeezing his hand. Finally, he turned to meet her eyes. "Neither do I, Scully. Neither do I." He lifted their tangled arms, kissing the back of her hand shyly. Blushing, Scully looked down at her full belly, but did not release his hand. They continued to wait. FIFTEEN: January 23, 1999 Approx. 2:30 PM The world was suddenly dark. Mulder's body was on fire, tingling with pleasurable sensation. He was incredibly aroused. The throbbing in his groin was urging him to slam into the weight, whatever it was, that had settled itself over his lap. He was moving his mouth against soft, wet lips. A tongue slipped into his mouth, wrapping sweetness over his teeth, cheeks, and tongue. He was sitting up, and his fingers were tangled in soft, silky hair. Opening his eyes, he saw red. Scully. His hips involuntarily bucked against her where she straddled him, sending an agonizingly perfect pleasure through his body. In response, Scully dipped her hips, rubbing herself against the erection that was straining inside his pants to get to her. "Oh, God, Scully," Mulder moaned against her mouth. Tightening his hold on her waist and her head, he pressed her to him and kissed her desperately, recklessly. She kissed him back with equal fervor, their bodies pushing and rubbing against each other. She was a fire pressed against his chest and lap, burning him through his clothes. He wanted to bury himself inside her and stay there forever. When he raked his tongue over the roof of her mouth, she let out a little gasp and broke the kiss. Pulling back, she looked at him through hooded eyes. Her mouth was open. She was breathless, panting softly in his face. Her lips were red, shiny, and swollen with passion and life. Unable to think of anything but his need to melt into her, Mulder leaned in to take her mouth again. Scully stopped him, laying her hands flat on his chest. She pushed him gently back. "Mulder, stop." "Huh?" Mulder reluctantly loosened his grip on her. He picked his head up and took in their surroundings. He was sitting on a bed in a hotel room. Scully was straddling his lap, sitting firmly on his thighs. They were both fully clothed. As coherency rushed back to him, Mulder recognized the room. "Mulder, where are we?" Scully asked, her breath ragged and uneven. "We're in my hotel room. No...your hotel room. It's you, right, Scully?" "Yes, it's me. We...you and she were working on the case?" Mulder nodded. Scully moved to get up, but he clamped both his hands down on her hips and held her to him. "Wait," he whispered. Mulder looked around the room some more. Seeming to catch on, Scully scanned the room as well. "There it is," she said. "Where?" "The table. Next to my bag." Turning towards the table, Mulder saw the cube. He shook his head in disbelief. It had happened fast and without warning. One second they were sitting in the forest waiting silently, but comfortably, for the cube to do something. The next second they were back at the hotel, in each other's arms, doing...things, pleasurable things brought on by uncontrollable and pre-heightened urges. In the forest, Mulder had been watching the cube, but had not seen any activity from it at all. "Did you see the cube in the forest do anything, Scully?" he asked, turning back to look at her. What he saw made his heart twist miserably in his chest. Scully was looking down at her stomach, sadness tainting her beautiful face. He had never seen her look so hopeless. "It must have been their cube that did it, not ours," she said somberly, not looking up at him. "It's in the right position to have hit them both...where they were...here...having their reunion, or whatever we...they were doing." Mulder would have expected her to be either embarrassed or angry over the intimate and passionate moment they had just shared. It broke his heart to see her so affected by her sudden emptiness that she could not even give the lusty kiss they had shared a second thought. He wanted her to hit him, to punch him, like her double had done after he had stolen a kiss from her on the ghost ship in 1939. He wanted to feel anything, and he wanted to see her feel anything other than the devastating emptiness he saw in her face. It was emptiness caused, just like everything else, by him and his quest. When would he stop hurting this woman? Mulder put his hand on her belly, rubbing it softly over her shirt. "I'm sorry," he whispered in her ear. "Don't be sorry, Mulder. I chose to come back," she said, looking up to meet his eyes. She appeared confident, but Mulder knew better. He could see the hurt in her eyes, inside every sad line on her face. Mulder shook his head. "That's not really what I meant, Scully." She sighed, her breath puffing softly across his cheeks. "It's never been your fault, Mulder. None of it," she said. "I don't think I'll ever stop feeling like it was." "You need to try," Scully told him softly. "I don't blame you. I never have." Mulder nodded but looked away, down at his hand on her stomach. He had never known how to forgive himself, not even for things that were out of his control. Not since he was twelve. Nudging his hand aside, Scully stroked her stomach, seemingly lost in thought. "You really wanted it, didn't you?" Mulder asked. "Him," she corrected. Hesitantly, she opened her mouth to speak again, but then closed it before any words emerged. She frowned at her belly, her breathing heavy with sadness. "Sometimes," she finally whispered, "I'm afraid I'll be alone forever." Mulder could not help being hurt by her words, but he was not surprised by them. How could she know that he would never leave her? He never told her or showed her that he was truly there with her to begin with. He loved her so much, yet she felt so alone, and it was his fault again. Now, though, he felt he could find the courage to make her see. Placing his fingertips on her chin, he tilted her face up and looked into her eyes. "I'm here, Scully...for as long as you'll put up with me," he said quietly. "Is that what you want?" Mulder nodded. Scully put her hand on his cheek, stroking his skin in soft support. He wanted to tell her that she was the only reason he could live with himself at all, but he could not find the words. He was afraid that they would come out wrong or that he would scare her away. They were so close to something good. Instead of speaking, he cupped her cheek with a trembling hand and leaned in to place a tiny, soft, chaste kiss on her lips. It was meant to be a first kiss...their first kiss. It was meant to be perfection. Wanting to be able to start anew, he hoped it would erase the passionate, lust-driven embrace they had accidentally experienced earlier. It did. When they parted, they were both breathless, shaking with fear and emotion and thrill. They spent long, silent moments trembling in each other's arms. Reaching behind Mulder's neck, Scully pulled his head forward until his forehead was pressed against hers. She held him there and closed her eyes, never speaking, barely breathing. Mulder felt panic begin to rise in his chest. He had done the wrong thing. It was too intense; they were not ready. He should never have kissed her. Blinking back tears, he was about to apologize when Scully finally spoke. "We need to do this slowly, Mulder," she whispered. Relieved, Mulder was able to breathe again. He nodded against her forehead. "I know." He swallowed hard. "Scully..." he started, but then hesitated. "I don't know how to say all the things I want to tell you, Scully." Scully opened her eyes, studying him from two inches away. "Slowly, Mulder," she finally said, a tiny, trembling smile curling her lips. All Mulder could do was nod again. "Are we supposed to be working the case this afternoon?" she asked. "Yes. We are," he said, his voice hoarse and unsteady. Scully moved to get off him, but he held her back again, his hands still on her waist. He leaned in for one more tiny kiss, just as chaste as the last. It was a promise. It said that he would not forget that things had changed. When he released her, she climbed off his lap. She was blushing and quiet, but smiling. Mulder told himself that this was a good thing, a very good thing. Trying hard not to start grinning like an idiot, he turned his attention to the cube. It was still on the table, and he and Scully were still in direct line of fire. He jumped up and tossed it into Scully's duffel bag, zipping the bag closed. "There," he said. "If it activates again, only your clothes will get switched." Scully shook her head. "I think it only works on people, Mulder. My clothes certainly didn't come with me before." Mulder watched her for a moment, thinking. She started to blush under his scrutiny. He grinned wickedly. "You woke up in his bed, didn't you?" "Yes. Yes, I certainly did," she said, smiling sheepishly, her cheeks turning redder by the second. "I think we should get rid of that, Mulder." She gestured to the duffel containing the cube. Mulder nodded. "This baby could do some serious damage. I was thinking about giving it to Frohike. If I'm a perfect, whole man with an ideal life over there, he's probably a porn star." Scully chuckled. "No, Mulder, I meant get rid of it." "I know. We'll bury it or something. Someplace far away." He tossed the bag into Scully's open closet and shut the door. "Let's go look at the case." They moved over to Mulder's room, where he grabbed the case file and sat on the couch. He was pleased when Scully chose to sit next to him. "Mulder?" she asked as he was beginning to put the file back in order. "Hmm?" "What was she like?" Mulder thought about the fact that his Scully and the other Scully shared the most wonderful of qualities. His Scully still had her compassion, strength, intelligence, and sweet spirit despite the hell he had towed her through for the past six years. He thought that maybe he had not ruined her after all. "She was a lot like you, Scully," he said, smiling to himself. Scully smiled and looked up at him. "He was a lot like you, too, Mulder," she said. Mulder nodded. He wrapped his arm lightly around her, and they went over the case, their heads together, as always. (END 15/15) "Did I dream this belief...Or did I believe this dream?" Peter Gabriel - 'I Grieve' End Notes: This is my first fanfic. I hope it was as much fun for you to read as it was for me to write. It really was a blast. When I get inspired, I will definitely write again. Nevertheless, I would LOVE to receive any feedback you care to give at: mibosh@earthlink.net Special thanks to my cybermom for the reading, the comments, the encouragement, and for pushing me out of the nest when the time was right. Thanks again, wolfmom. LM