NEW: PATERNITY 1/1
           
           
           TITLE: PATERNITY 
           AUTHOR: CindyET
           E-MAIL ADDRESS: cindyet@tdstelme.net 
           DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere is fine -- I write 'em for you to read 
           'em. 
           SPOILERS: Up through Existence
           RATING: R (Language)
           CLASSIFICATION: S, Post-Ep for Existence 
           
           SUMMARY: Who is little Will's daddy? 
              
              "From the moment I became pregnant, I feared the 
           truth...about how...and why. And I know that you feared it, too." 
              "I think what we feared were the possibilities. The truth 
           we both know."
              "Which is what?"  -- Scully and Mulder in "Existence"  
             
           Disclaimer: Do these characters really belong to Chris Carter, 
           FOX and 1013 Productions? If so, no copyright infringement 
           intended. Entertainment, yes. Profit, no. 
           
           Author's notes: "Paternity" is for Suzanne, my Texas friend, 
           who asked, "When are you going to write a story about the last 
           episode and will you include your take on the paternity of 
           Scully's baby?" Trying to get into CC's head, I puzzled over 
           the possibilities. This may not be the story you hoped for, 
           Suzanne, but it's what came out. 
           
           
           PATERNITY (1/1)
           By CindyET
           
           -x-x-x-x-x-x-
           SCULLY'S APARTMENT
           8:16 PM
           
           "Juice, milk, butter, eggs, um...um...." 
           
           With two grocery bags crushed to his chest, Mulder fumbled to 
           find Scully's key. He suspected he'd forgotten to pick up an 
           item at the store. Something essential. 
           
           "Bread, cereal, milk-- no, I already said milk."
           
           The bags slipped an inch or two in his arms. He squeezed 
           tighter.
           
           Finding his key at last, he slid it into the lock. 
           
           "Diapers...shhhhhit. Diapers!" he groaned, realizing his 
           oversight. The loaf of bread collapsed in the crook of his 
           arm. Didn't matter. Obviously he would need to return to the 
           store.
           
           He crossed the threshold and kicked the door shut behind him, 
           relishing its big angry bang. The livingroom was dark. Scully 
           was out with the baby. Something about a playgroup and 
           learning to socialize. Did a two-month-old socialize? Maybe 
           the socializing was for the mothers.
           
           Heading straight for the kitchen, Mulder let the light over 
           the stove guide him through the apartment, although it wasn't 
           necessary. For the last two months, he had spent most nights 
           here. He'd become used to the place in the dark. Midnight 
           feedings and the return of his insomnia had him pacing the 
           floors more often than not. 
           
           Scully's grocery list mocked him from the kitchen counter, 
           right where he'd left it. "Diapers" -- first item, in large 
           block letters. He set down the bags. How was it he could 
           remember the smallest details of every single X-File he'd ever 
           investigated, but a short list of groceries stumped him? 
           
           "Shit," he said again.
           
           "Domestic bliss isn't all it's cracked up to be, Agent 
           Mulder?" 
           
           Every hair on Mulder's neck rose at the sound of the familiar 
           voice. He spun to search the shadows in the livingroom.
           
           "Or should I call you *Mister* Mulder now?" The man flicked on 
           a table lamp, showing himself.
           
           Sitting in one of Scully's overstuffed chairs, the Smoking Man 
           smiled, apparently pleased to still be among the living. His 
           cheeks and lips had lost their deathly pallor. He glowed with 
           good health.
           
           Mulder took a step closer. No longer with the FBI, he missed 
           the service weapon he used to carry and cursed himself for not 
           putting a bullet through the old devil's head when he'd had 
           the chance. 
           
           "How is it you're still alive, Spender?" 
           
           "I could ask the same thing of you. I guess we both have 
           friends in high places. They're great healers, aren't they?" 
           
           Mulder eyed the fireplace poker and considered how little 
           effort it would take to drive the point into this man's heart. 
           "What do you want?" 
           
           "A peek at the Blessed Child."
           
           "Fuck you."
           
           Spender's smile widened. "I have other reasons for coming, 
           too."
           
           "Such as?" 
           
           How long would it be before Scully returned? The playgroup went 
           from 6:30 to 7:00, but Scully said she planned to stop at her 
           mother's afterward. Would she be here in half an hour? Fifteen 
           minutes? 
           
           "I'm here to offer you a singular opportunity." The Smoking 
           Man patted his breast pocket, as if searching for cigarettes, 
           but he didn't pull out a pack.
           
           "The last time I heard those words, I wound up in a casket for 
           three months."
           
           "True, but you also found the very thing for which you had 
           searched so long. Proof of extraterrestrials."
           
           Mulder's head dropped back and he stared at the ceiling. "I 
           could have done without the space cruise. It was a little too 
           up-close-and-personal for my taste." His eyes returned to 
           Spender.
           
           "Didn't you step on board that ship in Bellefleur of your own 
           free will?"
           
           "Free will is a myth, at least in my case."
           
           "That's about to change."
           
           "Oh, really? How's that?" He moved to the sofa, intending to 
           sit, but he remained on his feet. 
           
           "You have a choice right now."
           
           "What choice?"
           
           "Status quo," -- the Smoking Man nodded at the bags of 
           groceries on the kitchen counter -- "or a place in history."
           
           "I don't give a shit about history."
           
           "No? What do you 'give a shit about,' Fox? Scully? Her baby?"
           
           "Get the fuck out of here." Mulder pointed toward the door.
           
           "If you wish. I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome." 
           The Smoking Man rose from the chair. He took a few steps 
           toward the door, but stopped when he stood within reach of 
           Mulder. "Oh, I almost forgot." He dug into his inside breast 
           pocket and withdrew a manila-colored envelope. "This is for 
           you." He held out the packet.
           
           "What is it?"
           
           "The truth." Spender smiled again and pushed the envelope at 
           Mulder. "Isn't that what you seek? Or have you given up that 
           old quest?" With a chuckle, Spender walked to the door. He 
           took one last look at Mulder, and quietly let himself out.
           
           Mulder stood paralyzed for a moment, the envelope clasped over 
           his heart. Only when one of the grocery bags toppled in the 
           kitchen, spilling eggs and milk onto the tile floor, did he 
           begin to breath again. 
           
           -x-x-x-x-x-x-
           
           Mulder ignored the mess in the kitchen. Milk oozed around 
           little islands of broken egg yolks. He opened the envelope.
           
           The packet contained two RFLP films and a report. The 
           uppermost film was labeled with his own name. The other was 
           William's. The report was printed on Bureau stationery from 
           the SCI-Crime Lab -- Bio. The words "DNA Paternity 
           Identification Results" stood out in bold print at the top of 
           the sheet. 
           
           Reading no further, Mulder stuffed the contents back in the 
           envelope. Whatever was on these films proved nothing. Spender 
           was a liar. A goddamn liar. 
           
           Mulder tossed the packet onto the counter and bent to pick up 
           the upended egg carton from the floor. Two more eggs fell out 
           when he lifted carton. They splattered across the tile and 
           onto his shoes. He blinked at the broken shells. 
           
           Rage rolled through him at the thought of the DNA tests and 
           Spender's presumption. He grabbed the half-empty carton of 
           eggs and flung it against the wall. Albumen and yolk streaked 
           the wallpaper. Shells stuck to the cupboards, the 
           refrigerator. 
           
           How dare that goddamn son-of-bitch--
           
           Mulder hurled the milk jug and watched it explode against the 
           dishwasher. Tears burned his eyes. He struggled to control his 
           breathing.
           
           With a shaky hand, he picked up the envelope once more. He 
           sucked in a deep lung-full of air and let the packet's 
           contents slip out onto the counter. 
           
           -x-x-x-x-x-x-
           
           When Scully arrived with William, fast asleep in his baby 
           carrier, Mulder was sitting in the same chair Spender had 
           occupied only a half hour earlier. The kitchen was spotless. 
           The groceries put away. Mulder massaged one fist in his palm 
           while he chewed on his lower lip. 
           
           "Mulder?" Scully set the baby's carrier on the coffee table. 
           
           He glanced at her, only to look away again. His lip trembled, 
           but he said nothing.
           
           "What is it?" She shrugged out of her coat and sat opposite 
           him on the couch. 
           
           "Is...is he mine, Scully?" He tilted his head at the baby.
           
           "William?"
           
           "Yes, of course, William." He couldn't bring himself to look 
           at her or the baby. "Is he mine?"
           
           "Yes, Mulder, William is yours. What is this about? Why are 
           you questioning this now?"
           
           "Maybe...maybe because I didn't question it before." He pinned 
           her with a fearful stare. His voice dropped to a whisper. 
           "Maybe because I wanted it to be true. I wanted to believe."
           
           His mantra. The words from his poster. 
           
           He worried he'd been duped again.
           
           "Mulder, I don't know why--"
           
           He tossed her the manila envelope, hidden in his lap. It 
           landed with a slap on the coffee table, causing the baby to 
           jump in his sleep. 
           
           Scully picked up the packet. "What's this?" she asked.
           
           "The truth. Or a lie."
           
           She opened the envelope and drew out the films and the report. 
           She studied all three for a long time, rereading the report 
           twice.
           
           When she spoke, her voice was low and even. 
           
           "I don't know where these came from--"
           
           "They came from the FBI."
           
           "Not on my orders."
           
           "Why didn't you order a DNA test, Scully?"
           
           "Because I didn't need to." Anger hardened her tone. "I don't 
           need a lab report to tell me who my baby's father is."
           
           "Maybe I do." He leaned forward to adjust the baby's drooping 
           blanket. Tucking it beneath William's small chin, he let his 
           fingers graze the baby's skin. The smooth cheek felt like a 
           sun-warmed nectarine. Tiny lashes fluttered, but the baby's 
           lids remained closed. 
           
           "Where did you get this, Mulder? Did you order it?"
           
           His head snapped up. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing 
           came out. His anger thawed a little at the sight of her tears.
           
           "No."
           
           "Who then?"
           
           Mulder pressed his forehead into his palms. "Smokey," he 
           mumbled into his hands.
           
           "Then it's a lie."
           
           "He was here, Scully."
           
           "Here? But--"
           
           "He's not dead. I saw him myself." Mulder sat upright. "He was 
           here not an hour ago. He gave me the RFLP, the report. The 
           son-of-a-bitch knows I'll double check the results."
           
           "Then don't." She tucked the films and the report back into 
           their envelope. "Forget he ever came here."
           
           Mulder shook his head. "I can't do that." 
           
           -x-x-x-x-x-x-
           
           GENELEX LABORATORIES
           WASHINGTON, DC
           THE NEXT DAY
           
           The baby scowled when the technician swabbed the inside of his 
           cheek. Mulder had brought William to the lab over Scully's 
           objections.
           
           "That's all I need, Mr. Mulder," the cheery technician said. 
           She didn't look old enough to be doing this kind of work.  
           
           Mulder lifted the fussing baby to his shoulder and rocked him, 
           humming in his ear to soothe him. After several minutes the 
           baby fell limp, his face hot against Mulder's neck.
           
           "I'll give you a call, sir, when the results are in." She 
           smiled at him. 
           
           "How long will it take?"
           
           "Ten working days."
           
           "Ten?" He was used to the FBI's lab. A little pressure and he 
           could have PCRs in a day, RFLPs in two or three. Of course, he 
           didn't work at the FBI anymore. 
           
           "I could rush it, Mr. Mulder, but there'll be an additional 
           charge."
           
           "Whatever. Rush it."
           
           "Okey-doke. You'll hear from us in four days." 
           
           -x-x-x-x-x-x-
           
           SCULLY'S APARTMENT
           1:23 AM
           
           Mulder paced the dark rooms. Clad only in pajama bottoms, hair 
           standing on end, he walked barefoot from Scully's livingroom 
           to the kitchen and back again. Sleep eluded him the same way 
           it had all those years he'd searched for Samantha. He paused at 
           the livingroom window and looked out at the street. The 
           streetlamp cast an oval of bluish light onto the sidewalk. Only 
           an occasional car passed by. No pedestrians. Twin maple trees 
           released helicopter-shaped seeds into the night wind. He 
           watched them twirl until he felt seasick. Closing his eyes, he 
           resumed his midnight march. 
           
           -x-x-x-x-x-x-
           
           "Mulder?"
           
           Her palm between his shoulder blades woke him from a dream. He 
           sat hunched over the kitchen table, cheek pressed against the 
           wood. Sitting up, he tried to hold on to his dream. Something 
           about William. But already it faded.
           
           Scully carried the baby to the refrigerator. One handed, she 
           poured two glasses of OJ. William cooed and stared over his 
           mother's shoulder at Mulder, trying to focus his blinking 
           eyes.
           
           Mulder wondered why the hell he would want to question this. 
           
           -x-x-x-x-x-x-
           
           "Did you hear anything yet?" The voice on the other end of the 
           phone was Spender's.
           
           "Hear what?" Mulder marveled at Old Smokey's timing. Scully 
           had left for work not five minutes ago. Still in his pajama 
           bottoms, Mulder carried the phone to the window and stared 
           out. Scully's car was gone. Which vehicle surveilled him?
           
           "The results of the paternity test, of course. I assume you 
           had doubts about the authenticity of my findings."
           
           A sigh hissed from Mulder's nose. "What do you want?"
           
           "Your cooperation. That's all I've ever wanted."
           
           "Why?"
           
           "Because I can't do this alone."
           
           Mulder hated these games. Half spoken truths and hidden lies, 
           stringing him along year after year. He felt like a hamster 
           spinning in a wire wheel, running and running, only to end up 
           right where he began.
           
           "Say what you mean, old man. I'm tired of this."
           
           "The baby isn't what you think he is. You're not his father."
           
           "Who then?"
           
           "Why do you assume I have all the answers? After all, you're 
           in a better position than I to know who played paramour to our 
           Scully."
           
           Fucking son-of-a-bitch. 
           
           "I trust Scully."
           
           "How admirable. But hasn't it occurred to you, she might not 
           know what was done to her?"
           
           "Say...what...you...mean," Mulder said through clenched teeth.
           
           "Scully's doctor, during her first trimester...Dr. Parenti, 
           wasn't it?"
           
           Shit. What the hell did Spender know? 
           
           "What about him?"
           
           "He told you the IVF was unsuccessful, didn't he?"
           
           "It was, if it's any of your damn business."
           
           "It's very much my business. How careless of you, Fox."
           
           What was he talking about? "I'm hanging up."
           
           "I wouldn't do that. Unless you aren't interested in what 
           happened to all that genetic material you carelessly handed 
           over to a complete stranger."
           
           Scully's ova. His spermatozoa. Hundreds of thousands of 
           nightmarish possibilities. It had been a mistake to trust 
           Parenti.
           
           "What did he do?" The words scraped across Mulder's tongue. 
           His morning orange juice burned the back of his throat.
           
           "When you think you're ready to hear the truth, I'll show 
           you." The Smoker hung up, leaving the dial tone buzzing in 
           Mulder's ear. 
           
           -x-x-x-x-x-x-
           
           MULDER'S APARTMENT
           THREE DAYS LATER
           
           The currier insisted on a signature. Mulder scrawled his name 
           across the bottom of the delivery slip.
           
           "Have a good day," the man said and disappeared into the 
           corridor outside Mulder's door.
           
           The address on the envelope identified GENELEX Labs as the 
           sender. Could he trust these results any more than the ones 
           from the FBI? Wasn't it possible these had been tampered with, 
           too? Jesus, where the hell do you go when you trust no one?
           
           His slipped his thumb under the flap and tore open the packet. 
           He set the films aside for Scully. Not that she wanted to see 
           them. The report itself was what interested him. A simple yes 
           or no, printed in irrefutable black and white, telling him 
           whether or not William was his son.
           
           He unfolded the report.
           
           RFLP Inclusion Report
           Tested Man: Fox William Mulder 
           Mother:  Dana Katherine Scully
           Child: William Mulder
           Combined paternity index = 1576
           Summary of findings: Fox Mulder is excluded as the biological 
           father of William Mulder.
           
           It was true then; Spender was right. Or was this just another 
           Lie, too? 
           
           -x-x-x-x-x-x-
           
           FBI HEADQUARTERS
           WASHINGTON, DC
           
           Mulder was given a visitor's badge when he arrived at the 
           Hoover Building. A fresh-faced escort led him to his old 
           basement office. He didn't recognize the young woman. It felt 
           as if a lifetime had passed since he'd last walked these halls. 
           
           Scully looked surprised to see him, her brows rising when he 
           appeared at her office door. The pretty escort left them alone.
           
           "I could have walked you down, Mulder." Scully rose from his 
           desk...her desk. 
           
           The office looked stripped bare. No newspaper clippings of 
           Mars probes or Bigfoot taped to the walls. No "I Want To 
           Believe" poster. A brand new microscope replaced his antique 
           model. A photo of William graced the desk.
           
           "Where's...?" He nodded toward Doggett's side of the room.
           
           "Out."
           
           "Scully--"
           
           She crossed the room to where he stood at the door. Slipping 
           her arms around his waist, she laid her cheek against his 
           chest. A show of loyalty. He was reminded of the night their 
           office burned. She had tried to buoy him then, too. He didn't 
           think it was possible to feel more disappointment than he had 
           felt that night. Life constantly proved him wrong, it seemed.
           
           Resting his chin on the crown of her head, he sighed into her 
           hair. 
           
           "What do the test results say, Mulder?" she asked into his 
           shirt.
           
           "They say I'm not William's father."
           
           She drew away from him. Gripping his arms, she stared into his 
           eyes. "Then they're wrong."
           
           "Scully--"
           
           "They're wrong, Mulder. You *are* William's father."
           
           "Prove it to me, Scully. Run your own RFLP on William and then 
           match the baby's DNA against the FBI database. Find his 
           father. You're the only one I trust to do it. You're the only 
           one who won't lie to me." He turned to go.
           
           Her palms slid from his arms.
           
           "What will you be doing?"
           
           "Finding out what's behind the smoke screen."      
           
           -x-x-x-x-x-x-
           
           WATERGATE APARTMENTS, #2645
           WASHINGTON, DC
           
           "I knew you'd come around," the Smoker said, stepping back and 
           allowing Mulder to enter his apartment. "Care for coffee? Tea? 
           The truth?"
           
           "Just get to it." Mulder paced into the room. He dropped into 
           a wing-backed chair. 
           
           The Smoker brought him a new manila-colored envelope. 
           
           "More 'evidence'?" Mulder asked, taking the packet.
           
           Spender sat, too. He lit a cigarette. 
           
           Mulder dumped a dozen 5x7 photos out of the envelope into his 
           lap. They showed a large room, well lit, with dozens of 
           incubators set up in identical rows. "What is this place?"
           
           "A lab. I can take you there, if you like."
           
           Babies' faces stared back at Mulder from several of the 
           photos. They looked to be about the same age as William. 
           
           "Who...who are these children?"
           
           The Smoker drew on his cigarette. His smile revealed tobacco-
           stained teeth. "Your progeny." 
           
           -x-x-x-x-x-x-
           
           SCULLY'S APARTMENT
           THE NEXT DAY
           5:52 PM
           
           Scully still wore her coat. She looked tired.
           
           "Where have you been, Mulder?"
           
           "Washington state."
           
           "Wash-- Why?" 
           
           "Looking for the truth." How many times had he said these 
           words to her? 
           
           He patted the baby's belly. William slept in his lap. Mulder 
           sat with legs outstretched, stocking feet propped on the coffee 
           table, while Scully paced a half-circle around the couch. Two 
           RFLP films hung from her hand.
           
           "The truth," she said, trying to hold her temper, "is not 
           here." She waggled the films. "I ran these twice, Mulder. They 
           don't match the results you got from GENELEX."
           
           "Do they prove I'm William's father?"
           
           She stopped her pacing. "No, but--"
           
           "But *nothing,* Scully." His sharp tone caused the baby to 
           frown in his sleep.
           
           "Mulder, I ran these results through the FBI database. They 
           came up with a match."
           
           Mulder traced a tiny circle around the baby's bellybutton. 
           "William's father?"
           
           "No."
           
           "No?" Mulder's chin rose. "Then who?"
           
           "A man who has been dead for more than fifteen years."
           
           "How is that possible?"
           
           "It's not. That's my point." She sat down beside to him, careful 
           not to disturb the baby. 
           
           "Then what does it prove?"
           
           "Mulder, there was a time when I would have argued on the side 
           of science. I would have insisted these RFLPs were 
           quantifiable proof that William is the product of a genetic 
           experiment, that his DNA came from a dead man's frozen sperm 
           or, or from cloned cells."
           
           "What do you believe now?"
           
           "I believe this proves only that someone is tampering with the 
           evidence."
           
           "But you ran the tests yourself, Scully."
           
           "Yes, Mulder, I ran the tests. But I couldn't be there every 
           single moment. There was opportunity for someone to exchange 
           the data."
           
           Mulder shook his head, incredulous. "You sound like me, 
           Scully." An unhappy laugh chuffed from his nose. "So what are 
           you saying? This is an elaborate hoax? For what purpose?"
           
           "To hide the truth." 
           
           Jesus, she did sound like him. 
           
           "I found out something else, Mulder."
           
           He closed his eyes and leaned his head into the cushions. 
           "What?"
           
           "I checked into GENELEX. Did you know their lab is owned by 
           Zeus Genetics which is, in turn, owned by Transgen 
           Pharmaceuticals, which is owned by Roush? Is any of this 
           ringing a bell, Mulder?"
           
           Fuck. Lies within lies within lies. 
           
           "I did a little checking of my own, Scully." He looked at her. 
           "In Washington. I saw a...a nursery, filled with babies. 
           Dozens. Maybe a hundred or more."
           
           "So?"
           
           "I think...I think they may be mine. Or ours."
           
           "What are you saying?"
           
           "Scully, we handed our genetic material to Parenti on a silver 
           petri dish. We don't know what he did with it. Or what he 
           might have done to you." Mulder cupped the baby's head in his 
           palm. He loved this boy. He loved Scully. "Those children were 
           brought into this world to serve an agenda. I have to find out 
           what that is, Scully. I have to find the truth." 
           
           -x-x-x-x-x-x-
           
           2:13 AM
           
           Mulder leaned over the baby's bassinet in the dark. Bending 
           low, he kissed William's smooth cheek.
           
           "Mulder?" Scully stirred in the bed.
           
           "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." He wore his leather 
           jacket. Jeans. Sneakers.
           
           Scully squinted at the clock. "It's almost 2:30 in the 
           morning. What are you doing?"
           
           "I couldn't sleep, so I went out. Did a little shopping."
           
           "At 2:30?" She groaned and settled back against the pillows.
           
           "Not everyone is sleeping, Scully."
           
           "Well, they should be," she mumbled. Already she drifted back 
           into sleep.
           
           He bent over her and combed loose hair from her face, causing 
           her to lean into his palm. She was beautiful. She had always 
           been beautiful. He kissed her on the lips, softly, so as not 
           to wake her.
           
           Grabbing his bag from the floor, he walked through the dark 
           apartment to the kitchen. A new box of diapers rested on the 
           counter beside his note. His message was short.
           
           "I'll be back when I find the truth. Love, Mulder."
           
           Without making a sound, he crossed to the door and slipped out 
           into the night.     
              
           
           THE END
           
           Author's notes: Feedback, good or bad, is welcome on this or 
           any of my stories. Send comments to cindyet@tdstelme.net. 
           
           Visit my other fanfic at my Web site at 
           http://cindyet.xfilesfanfiction.com.