Title: Beyond Conception Author: Alelou Feedback: Alelou123@aol.com Archive: Ephemeral, Gossamer & Spooky okay, others please just let me know Category: Scully Angst, MSR Rating: PG-13? Implied sex, nothing explicit. Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, and the various other Scullys belong to CC, 1013 and Fox. "The Runaway Bunny" was written by Margaret Wise Brown and published by Harper Collins. Annette Corbierre is mine, but seeing as how I'm borrowing all THIS stuff without permission I'd say she's fair game! Summary: Sometimes life gives you something you just aren't ready for. Notes: Thanks to Ambress and MystPhile for beta, and especially to MystPhile for patient beta work in the face of tremendous technical angst with AOL. Because of said issues, I'll post this slowly at first to make sure you can actually read it! Give the wonderful Beaker a day or two and then the whole thing can be found at: http://members.xoom.com/Alelou123/ She is sitting on a bed tucked in the corner of a dark, cluttered room next to a sweating Emily. There are cleaning supplies jammed in around the edges of the mattress, and Scully wonders why anyone would put stuff like this in a child's bed. And yet, she doesn't see much point in clearing them off or making a fuss. Emily turns her head to her, and asks, "Is it going to hurt?" "No, sweetie, it won't hurt," she says, smoothing the girl's baby-fine hair back from her hot, wet forehead. The little girl looks at her, perhaps trying to assess her truthfulness. "Are the other children going to make fun of me?" "No, sweetie, they won't make fun of you. They don't let the other children watch something like that." She turns to Mulder, who is hovering behind them, and he agrees. "No, no children." Emily looks at them both, plainly still anxious, but increasingly sleepy. "I'm scared," she says. "It's okay, sweetheart. Would you like a story?" The little girl nods. "The Runaway Bunny." "The Runaway Bunny?" Scully's heart sinks; she doesn't remember it, and has no idea where to find it. This strange dark room is not hers; she has no idea if there are any children's books in it. Emily nods solemnly. "My mommy read it to me." Mulder, surprisingly, suddenly chimes in: Once there was a little bunny who wanted to run away. So he said to his mother, "I am running away." "If you run away," said his mother, "I will run after you. For you are my little bunny." The little bunny turns himself into a fish in a trout stream, and the mother bunny turns herself into a fisherman to catch him. He turns himself into a rock on a high mountain, and she turns into a mountain climber. When the little bunny has turned into a crocus in a hidden garden, they realize that Emily has fallen asleep. "What kind of world is it that sentences a little child to death?" Scully asks Mulder, hissing. She can't fathom that this beautiful child had just heard her last bedtime story. "Scully, you know she was never meant to be," Mulder says calmly and gently. "It's for the best." xxx Scully woke. Daylight was streaming into the room, and she felt a powerful sense of relief at escaping her dream. It was unusual for her to wake up with a vivid memory of her nightmares, but this was a morning dream, on a Saturday when she'd had no particular reason to get up early. And dreaming about Emily was not all that odd for her, but this one had been unusually disturbing: Comforting the child so that she could sleep the night before her execution. And they both did it so matter- of-factly, as if nothing could be done about it. She lay in bed, reflecting. It was perhaps not so different than what she *had* done, really. True, she hadn't delivered her over to an executioner, just watched her succumb to an impossible blood chemistry. And what kind of future had she faced as one of their sickly lab rats? Still, perhaps she'd had a future of some kind, until Scully "rescued" her. Not for the first time, Scully wondered why those phone calls had come to her. If that was really Missy, phoning from beyond the grave, what was she hoping to accomplish? Another Scully soul in heaven before her time ... someone to play with? Keeping her pure child's soul safe from temptation? Or was heaven also lining up against alien conspiracies? (And if so, couldn't heaven do a better job against them?) It was beyond any sense Scully understood, and usually she just let it be. In recent years she had developed an ability to live with ambiguity and paradox that would have stunned and dismayed her younger self. It was really a practical matter of survival: it allowed her to work on the X Files without forsaking everything she'd ever learned, and it enabled her to take much-needed solace in her faith in a world where Christianity often seemed absurd. Thus, she actually accepted and believed far more than her partner had ever imagined -- as long as she didn't have to take it out in the light of day and think about it too much. She reviewed the disturbing dream again. Mulder had said something like that, that Emily wasn't meant to be, hadn't he? Keeping his emotional distance and trying to get her to keep hers. He seemed to get more involved later, but by then she had resented it. But hell, even she had maintained a fair amount of distance. How well can you get to know a child in less than 24 hours? She'd never read Emily a single story. What was that story? And how come Mulder knew it so well? It was hard to imagine Teena Mulder reading any stories to her son, though she also liked to think that the Mulder household hadn't been so very awful until Samantha was taken. But why did Scully's subconscious have him knowing it? Maybe because he tended to know all sorts of arcane things? And how, if she didn't know it, did her dreaming mind know it? Perhaps she'd read it and forgotten it? Too much to grapple with on a sunny Saturday morning. She got up and headed for the bathroom. xxx The phone rang on her second cup. "Scully," she said, thinking it would be Mulder. "Dana?" "Oh! Hi, Mom. How are you?" "Bill just called. Tara's in labor." Maggie's voice was a curious combination of controlled excitement and tentativeness. "That's great," Scully said. "Not running late this time." "I'm heading out there this afternoon. I reserved a seat for you if you want to join me. But I'll understand if you can't." Scully hesitated. She'd known this was coming, and she'd cleared her schedule for it. But somehow, now when it came right down to it, she was desperate for an excuse to stay home. But she also knew Tara could use the help. Aunt Dana was always good with nephews and hadn't had nearly enough time with Matthew yet. And she had no good and truthful excuse to stay away. "No, mom, I'll go." Scully took down the flight arrangements xxx "Mulder." He sounded half asleep. "Mulder, it's me." "Everything all right?" He sounded alert now. It occurred to her that she almost never called him unless there was a problem. Which, technically, there was. "Yeah, everything's fine. But Tara just went into labor." She'd already told Mulder that Bill and Tara were expecting their second child, that they already knew it was a girl. "A week early this time." "Oh." There was a pause. "So --" "So I guess I'm on my way out there with Mom. There's nothing urgent to keep me here, right?" She already knew there wasn't. "Not unless you'd like something urgent to keep you here." Good old Mulder. "No ... I really ought to go." "I imagine something really urgent might come up in just a day or two," he said helpfully. "I'll call you and you can decide if you need to get back here." She breathed a quick sigh. "Thanks, Mulder." "You call me if anything happens, Scully." There was a darkness in his tone born of not-so-recent experience. "I will. I promise." "I'll miss you." She didn't say anything for a moment, surprised that he had just said something like that. "I'll miss you, too," she said, finally, in an unnaturally high, almost strangled voice. "Well, bye," he said, sounding amused, and hung up. She stared at the headset before replacing it. Mulder never said "bye." And he'd certainly never said "I'll miss you" to her before. She sighed and spoke to the only plant that had survived the last three years in her apartment. "I sure hope that was really him." xxx Mrs. Scully was already on the plane when Scully rushed in at the last minute, quickly despairing of finding a place for her carry-on luggage. The stewardess looked annoyed and took it back up to first class. "Traffic," she explained to her mom, who also looked annoyed. "I didn't think you were going to make it," Maggie said. She knew her daughter was never late for anything -- at least, never when she was without her partner. And it was Saturday, not exactly a big traffic day. "Well, I would have just gotten the next flight," Scully said, defensively. "I guess you've got plenty of frequent-flyer miles anyway," her mom said, clearly unimpressed. Scully sighed and sat down. It didn't work like that, but she wasn't going to get into it. "You know, you didn't have to come if you didn't want to," her mother continued. She didn't add anything about still not having to, because the plane was already moving. Scully had had enough. "I'm sure I never would have heard a single comment about it." "I didn't pressure you to come!" her mother hissed. "Tell me one thing I said to pressure you to come." Scully couldn't say anything to that. Her mother sighed. "Dana, don't you think I might understand that you wouldn't want to? I just don't enjoy the feeling that somehow I'm dragging you somewhere you don't want to be." "Mom, I want to see the baby. I want to see Matthew. I want to help Tara. I don't happen to care if I see Bill again for another twenty years, but I'll put up with him." "He's your brother, Dana." "Yeah, I know," Scully said. "He thinks that gives him the right to be insufferable about things he doesn't understand, unfortunately." "You're talking about Fox, aren't you?" "Or my job, or Emily, or medicine, or science, or just about any other topic of conversation." "He just wants what's best for you, Dana." Scully sighed. They hadn't even gotten there yet and she already wanted to go home. Katherine Melissa Scully made her first appearance on the planet shortly before her grandmother and aunt landed, and was therefore suitably clean and sleepy and swaddled in pink when they arrived at the hospital. Tara was glowing, having had a relatively fast and easy delivery. Bill was glowing, happy to have a little girl who would adore him. Maggie was glowing, full of pride, thrilled to have a grandaughter, her eyes tearing up over the name and the tiny little fingers. Little Katy was glowing with her motherís hormones and beautiful in that odd little alien way that all newborns are, making Scully suddenly think of those genes humans appeared to have in common with grays. Scully was not glowing, but she smiled and cooed and did her utmost not to dampen the festivities, before making her excuses to go pick up Matthew from the neighbors and get him settled into bed. Maggie joined her, realizing better than Scully that a three-year-old who hadnít seen his aunt in over a year might not react with total joy. Matthew was indeed shy with her at first, but soon warmed up and delightedly showed her all his backyard toys in the waning light of the evening while Maggie baked chicken nuggets. They had a quick dinner and put him to bed with a story about Thomas the Tank Engine. "Exhausted?" Maggie asked, as Scully quickly gathered sheets to make up the sofa. "God, yes. Itís midnight our time, isnít it?" "Yes, Iím tired too. Good night, sweetheart." Dana was uncomfortably conscious that in some unspoken way she was letting her mother down, but her mother was also backing off easily these days. No fishing tackle for Maggie; if Dana wanted to be a fish in a trout stream she could swim as far as she wanted. Scully stretched out on the sofa, thankful to be alone at last. Without thinking, she dug out her cell phone and hit Mulderís speed dial. He answered the first ring. "I sure hope this is Scully." She smiled. "Katherine Melissa Scully, born 3:44 pm Pacific Time. 7 pounds 2 ounces, 19 inches long, tiny bit of hair that everyone claims is red." "But youíre not buying it without a thorough analysis." "At least a few more hairs from which to draw a statistically reliable sample." "Blue eyes?" "All newborns have blue eyes." "Really?" She suddenly doubted herself. "Actually, Iím not sure. Have to look it up." "So how ya doing?" His question was studiously nonchalant. "Iím fine." There was a slight pause. Well, she was, she thought defensively. "Need something urgent to come up yet?" he asked. "No, but Iíll keep you posted." She yawned. "Howís Tara?" "Sheís great," Scully says, momentarily nonplussed, until she remembered that Mulder actually knew Tara. "Very easy labor. Want to hear about Bill?" "Not unless itís something I can use to embarrass him someday." "Sorry, nothing like that." She yawned again. "Go to sleep, Scully." "Yeah," she agreed. "You, too." "Iím really glad you called," he said in a rush, then hung up before she good say goodnight. Scully blinked, putting the phone away slowly and feeling that somehow she was being slow on the uptake. Then she curled over on her side and was asleep in seconds. xxx The next day passed in a whirl of Matthew. They took him to the hospital so he could visit his mommy and look through the window at his little sister, then Scully kept him entertained with a trip to the zoo while Maggie stayed at the hospital. By the end of the day Scully was wondering why anybody thought they could handle two children when one was so exhausting, and desperately wanted to just sack out on the couch and go to sleep. Maggie, however, showed up and persuaded her to take some items Tara wanted to the hospital. Tara was breastfeeding Katy when Scully arrived. She didnít seem embarrassed about it, so Scully relaxed and perched in the side chair. "I hope this goes a lot easier this time," Tara said. "I almost gave up on breastfeeding with Matthew. I thought I might end up being the first-ever recipient of nipple transplants." "She looks like sheís latching on just fine," Scully said, recalling an obscure piece of her medical training and wondering if she really had a clue what she was talking about. "Whereís Bill?" "Ran to the base for awhile. Heís going to sleep at home tonight, then come get us in the morning." "How are you feeling?" "Happy. Tired. Couldnít sleep much last night. After all those delays last time I was such a nutcase. So this time was such a breeze. Plus I knew to ask for the epidural right away this time!" Tara laughed. Scully smiled, thinking that Tara was sweet not to have alluded to all the additional stress of what had been going on with Emily while she was going into labor. Her brother had found himself a nicer wife than he deserved. A lovely wife who was also speaking a language Scully would never understand. "I think sheís nodding off," Tara said, lifting the baby up and supporting her while rubbing her back gently. Her engorged breast hung there in the air and Scully found herself carefully ignoring it while Tara concentrated on the delicate maneuver of burping a sleepy newborn. Mission accomplished, Tara covered up and turned to her sister-in-law. "Hold her while I find something to eat?" And so Scully settled into her chair with a sleeping Katy in her arms, while Tara went hunting for snacks. She felt incredibly stiff and tense for awhile and reflected that it was amazing how heavy seven pounds of infant could feel. Then she began to relax as Katy slumbered on. She sniffed her burden and recognized the smells of hospital linens, A and D ointment, a faint whiff of baby urine, and something sweet that might be essence of baby, might be motherís milk. Then she catalogued Katyís little bumps and scratches, the product of her delivery and her own infant fingernails. "Sunshine cup? Jello?" Tara asked, coming back with an armful of crackers and hospital desserts. "No, thanks. I think Iíve had enough hospital jello to last me a lifetime." Tara eyed her curiously. "So Iíve heard." A slight silence ensued, but Tara filled it with ravenous eating. Scully thought about how best to say goodnight. "Itís funny how life changes," Tara said, swallowing food quickly. "Five years ago Iím not sure I would have believed this day would ever come." "Because it took so long?" Scully asked, mentally replaying what she knew of her brotherís marriage. Bill and Tara had been together for over 10 years now. "I know you were having trouble." In Scullyís arms, Katy suddenly grimaced and twisted and turned a vivid red, her little mouth opening wide. Scully eagerly handed her back to Tara, who brushed away cracker crumbs and tried the breast again, with success. "We ended up doing in vitro, you know. Matthew and Katy are actually from the same batch of embryos." Scully nodded politely, wishing she didnít have to hear this. Tara cooed at her daughter. "So youíre very special, arenít you, Katy, love? And Iím *so* grateful thereís only one of you." She looked over at Scully. "The first time, we wouldnít have minded twins, or even triplets. This time we were praying hard for just one, please. Much better idea of what we were getting into." Scully smiled, recalling her day with Matthew. "I can imagine." Taraís voice suddenly got very low. "Dana, have you ever thought about using IVF or something like that?" Was the room emptying of oxygen? Scully took a deep breath. "Tara -- Iím not even married." "But if you were -- it could solve --" "I donít have any eggs left," Scully said roughly. "None worth counting, anyway. So it wouldnít work for me." "People donate eggs, you know, Dana. Even embryos." Tara swallowed. When Scully didnít say anything, she added, "I only brought it up, because, you know, we have these embryos left, and weíre not planning to use them." Scully looked at Tara in shock. She was speechless. "Does Bill know about this?" she asked at last. "Weíve talked about it a lot. We both just feel so bad for you, Dana. We know what it feels like, better than most." "But -- Tara -- these are *your* children. Yours and Billís." "Genetically ours, I know, but theyíre just little clumps of cells right now," Tara said. "Not anything to speak of yet. And we donít want a huge family. Two is all we need." She looked contentedly at her daughter for a moment. "Itís just a possibility, Dana. Theyíre not the top grade ones anyway. I donít even know if it would work for you. We have six left from the original seventeen, and we planned to donate them to somebody who needed them. But we wanted to give you the option, just in case. I mean, it would be a chance to have child who has some of your familyís genetic heritage." Scully just sat there, intensely uncomfortable. "Theyíre paid up in storage through June," Tara added. "So itís not a big rush." "Tara--" Scully struggled for something to say. "Itís just so much more complicated than I can ever explain." "Itís okay, Dana. No rush, as I said. Weíre just letting you know." "And Billís willing to do this without any conditions?" Scully asked, disbelieving. "Well, one," Tara admitted. "We want to be the godparents." Scully felt her eyes fill with tears. Tara pretended not to notice. "Mind you, I canít guarantee that Bill wonít feel entitled to give you unsolicited advice about every aspect of your life and theirs. But then he already does that -- with everybody." Scully laughed shakily. God, she had that one right. "Itís a very, very kind offer, Tara. Iím really touched. I donít see how I can possibly accept, but I really appreciate it." "Just think about it," Tara urged her. "Hey, I think this kid has passed out again." "Looks that way," Scully agreed, as Tara gently detached her sleeping newborn and held her up to her nose to sniff whether a diaper change was in order. It looked strangely primitive, even animalistic, and Scully felt a powerful pang of envy. She rose to go. "Do you need anything?" "No, weíre all set," Tara said. "Think Iíll get some sleep while I can. There wonít be much of that for the next few months. Oh, and Dana?" "Yes?" "We didnít tell your mom about this. The offer, I mean." Scully nodded gratefully and made her escape. Tara and Katy came home the next day, although Katy had turned up with high bilirubin levels and therefore spent all her sleeping time swathed in a light-emitting blanket that helped her infant liver do its job. Tara and Bill were unfazed, having gone through the same routine with Matthew. Bill and Tara cooed over their newborn, held the suddenly needy Matthew when they could, slept, and entertained the guests who dropped by with frilly little dresses and casseroles. Scully slept through most of it, but rolled over at comings and goings during the night often enough to realize that the first week home with a baby was a strange existence out of normal time, an abandonment of the boundaries between night and day. Maggie quietly cooked and did laundry and made life easier for her daughter-in-law. Scully played with Matthew, who sorely needed her attention, and hoped it was not too obvious that she left most of her nieceís fairly rare waking hours to others. Neither Bill nor Tara mentioned their offer again, though Bill gave Scully a few significant looks. Scully, for her part, was longing to escape back to her life but found herself strangely reluctant to call Mulder and check in. After three days without contact, he finally called her. "Having fun?" he asked. "I now know more about Thomas the Tank Engine and his friends than I had ever thought possible," was Scullyís dry reply. "Who?" "Never mind," she said. "Hey, youíd get a kick out of Katy right now. Sheís wrapped in this buzzing high-tech blanket, glows in the dark, very alien looking." There was silence on the other end. "It helps her liver break down bilirubin," she offered. "Is she okay?" He sounded worried. "Oh yeah, sheís fine. A lot of babies have this." "Oh. So, when you coming home, G-woman?" "I donít know. Got anything interesting?" Scully asked. "Iíve got a woman in Connecticut who claims that aliens have replaced her husband with a doppelganger. Curious thing is, the guys work for the social security administration." "What does he say?" "She didnít want me to tip him off that she knows." "Mmmm," Scully said. "Have you checked her medical records?" "She didnít sign the release. I thought maybe youíd want to assess her state of mind yourself," Mulder said, enticingly. "Well, that sounds like a plan," Scully said, not bothering with her traditional protest that this tip was obviously nothing more than the ravings of a madwoman. "Let me see what I can do for a flight." xxx Nobody made more than a token fuss about her leaving. Tara gave her a warm hug and thanked her for coming, and Maggie told her to please be careful and have a nice flight. Bill drove her to the airport. They hadnít really had a private conversation yet, so Scully wasnít too surprised when he cleared his throat and broached the topic. "Tara told you about the embryos." "Yeah," Scully said. "And I told her I didnít see how I could do it, Bill. But I really appreciate the offer." "We know how it feels, Dana. Years of wondering if we would ever become parents." Even at the risk of getting into an argument, Scully couldnít resist satisfying her curiosity. "Bill, I know you donít approve of the way I live my life. Why would you want to watch a child whoís genetically yours be brought up by someone like me?" "Youíre my sister," Bill said, tightly. "And I trust you to do the right thing for your child. Any child, for that matter. You and Mulder, both." Scully gave him a confused glance. "I know I havenít exactly been in your partnerís fan club, but I guess I realized after what happened with Emily that heís an inescapable fact of your life. Maybe not even a totally bad one." Good Lord, that was a shift. Of course, he didnít quite get it. "Bill, weíre not together in the way that you appear to think we are." "Uh huh," Bill said, with obvious skepticism. Then he continued, more seriously, "I have to admit, Dana, I canít help hoping that having this opportunity might help you to take a different path. One that might make you happier. Might even save your life, based on what Iíve seen. Maybe both your lives." Scully chewed on that in silence while Bill negotiated the airportís busy lanes. When he pulled up to her terminal she turned to him and asked, very seriously, "Bill, if you knew that what Mulder and I were doing might be directly related to Matthew and Katyís future, would you still want us to walk away from it?" There was an awkward silence. Then Bill gave her a sad and earnest look. "Dana, isnít it possible that youíre overestimating your importance in the vast scheme of things?" She looked back at him, unflinching. "Itís entirely possible. But Iíve also seen too much to just walk away and hope for the best." Bill smiled grimly, as if sheíd just confirmed his worst fears for his sisterís hold on sanity. "Just think about it, thatís all we ask," he said. He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks for coming. And have a good flight." "Thanks, Bill, " Scully said, getting out of the car. "For everything." Bill just nodded and drove off. xxx Early the next morning, a very tired Scully found herself in the passenger seat of Mulderís car heading north on I-95. A light drizzle was falling in the predawn and was expected to switch over to sleet later in the day in Washington and to snow further north. "Mulder, why didnít we just fly?" "Travel allowance is shot for the month?" "Is it?" "Ah, Scully, you know with all the flight delays theyíre threatening tonight, weíre just as well off driving." "Right. Much safer," Scully said in her flattest tone. "And we can enjoy each otherís company better without all those intrusive airline attendants," Mulder said. "Oh, well, that explains it then," Scully agreed, with a small smile and a yawn. "Plus this way you get a larger seat to sleep in," Mulder added, clearly aware that she was going to drop off any minute. "Mmmmm," she agreed, and was soon sound asleep. xxx She is trying to squeeze onto a very crowded elevator at the Hoover building, and people are staring at her. She isnít sure why, until she looks down and realizes that she is tremendously pregnant. She is stunned, and feels herself flush with embarrassment. Then she has maneuvered herself into Mulderís office, and is asking him, "How the hell did this happen?" "Bill got you pregnant, remember?" She is perplexed for a moment, then realizes, oh yeah, those embryos. But she doesnít remember agreeing to anything. "No." "Youíre due in a week," he says, matter-of-factly. "You should be home right now." "Why didnít I know about this?" "Come on, Scully, I know you like to ignore things right in front of your face, but this is ridiculous." Suddenly she feels an unmistakeable tightening across her belly and she gasps. "I think Iím having a contraction." "Iíll call Bill," Mulder says. "Bill? What about you?" "What about me?" He looks puzzled. "Arenít you ...?" He starts dialing the phone and looks at her with obvious confusion. "Scully, this is something you worked out with Bill. I donít want anything to do with it, you know that." She stares at him, aghast. "By the way," he adds, "I think your water just broke." She looks down at a spreading puddle at her feet." "Tell you what," he says, putting the phone down. "Iíll get you some paper towels, okay?" and he leaves, closing the door behind him. xxx Scully woke with a start to the sound of the car door closing. She looked around, orienting herself. Gas station. Grey wintry day. Could be anywhere between Washington and Connecticut. And she needed to pee. When she returned to the car, Mulder handed her a coffee and a bagel. "Morning, sunshine," he drawled. "Though technically I believe weíre getting into the afternoon hours, here." "And where is here?" she asked. "Southington. Nearly there. Youíve been sleeping like the dead. I have to admit, there were times I was almost wishing for an intrusive airline attendant to talk to." "Sorry," she said. "Jetlagged, I guess." He gave her a small smile to show she was forgiven and headed the car back to the interstate. She sat and sipped and recalled her dream and thought, no, that will never happen. Not any part of it. xxx "Mrs. Corbierre, what makes you think your husband is an alien imposter?" Mulder and Scully were both perched on the edge of a brown neocolonial sofa in Annette Corbierreís deeply- shagged family room, while their interview subject rocked herself gently in an upholstered rocker studded with doilies. "He has changed in some very subtle but important ways," Annette Corbierre said, plump fingers lacing and unlacing nervously. Mulder opened his mouth, but Scully quickly leaped in before he could lead the woman into even greater fancies than she could come up with on their own. "How so?" she asked. Mrs. Corbierre bit her lip. "Agent Scully, are you married?" Scully couldnít help glancing at Mulder. "No." "Well, then you might not understand." "Not understand what?" Scully asked as patiently as she could. Mrs. Corbierre looked like she wanted to cry. "Anton went to work two Fridays ago, just the same as always. But he didnít come home until Saturday morning. The first time heís ever done that. I was frantic, calling hospitals, trying to get the police to look for him. He finally showed up Saturday and he said, as if it were nothing at all, ëI had things to do.í All cool and distant like it was no big deal. And since then heís remained just like that -- polite and distant, not involved with me, not involved with the kids, just going through the motions." "Does he seem to remember your names, basic information, things that happened before then?" She sniffled. "Yes, but itís as if itís just ... well, information. Data. Not attached to any feeling or anything. He could be a robot for all the emotion he shows. Or worse. He seems to take us all as if, well, we smell bad or something." She looked beseechingly at Scully. "Can you imagine how that feels?" "Terrible, Iím sure," Scully agreed. "But Mrs. Corbierre, what is it specifically that makes you think aliens have anything to do with the change in your husbandís behavior?" "Well, who else has the ability to replace a man with a complete duplicate like that? I mean, it just stands to reason, doesnít it?" Scully licked her lips and turned to her partner, whose face had turned carefully impassive. She was suddenly struck by an expected revelation: Heíd known this. Heíd known that Annette Corbierre was just a sad, confused woman who didnít know how to cope with her husbandís midlife crisis. And heíd still dragged them both up here through an incipient noríeaster. She peered at him, puzzled and somewhat offended. Mulder appeared to sense that he was losing credibility. "Your husband works for the social security office in Hartford, yes?" Annette looked confused. "Yes." "He has access to the records of thousands of people?" he continued. "Actually, he just works in their maintenance department," she said. "You know, changes light bulbs, plows snow, keeps the building running and all." Mulder had the grace to look embarrassed. Scully sighed. "Mrs. Corbierre," she said, gently. "As you know, Agent Mulder and I do have experience in this area. Iím very happy to tell you that your husband really doesnít demonstrate any of the telltale signs of --" she couldnít help wincing slightly -- "alien replacement. I think perhaps you should talk to him and see if something is bothering him. Maybe you just need to work through some issues as a couple." Mrs. Corbierre looked stricken. "Oh my God. You think heís having an affair, donít you?" Scully looked helplessly at Mulder. "Thatís not what we think at all," he said, in his most soothing voice. "Tell me, did your husband recently experience a significant loss, or perhaps a birthday or some other event?" Annette sniffed disconsolately. "He turned 53 last month. I donít see what that has to do with anything, though." "Is Mr. Corbierreís father still alive?" Mulder asked. That earned him a puzzled look. "Oh no, he died years ago, just after we got married." "How old was his father when he died?" "Um... oh." Annette looked surprised. "Fifty-three. Everyone thought, what a pity, just fifty-three and dead so suddenly." Realization dawned. "Oh ... I see." Mulder nodded. "Mrs. Corbierre, I suspect your husband could use all the love and support you could possibly give him right now." "Oh," she said, a note of hope finally creeping into her voice. She smiled shyly. "Not an alien, then," she said. "No," Mulder said. "And I think itís safe to say thatís always a good thing." xxx In the car, Scully just sat and looked at him and waited. He was obviously trying to ignore her and pulled into traffic nonchalantly. The wipers thwacked back and forth, sweeping pebbles of frozen rain off the windshield. "You knew this was completley bogus before we ever came up here," she finally accused him. "I admit I had suspicions," Mulder said. "So did you, Iím sure, but you didnít argue about checking it out anyway." "So really this was all just an elaborate ruse to give me an excuse to leave California?" "It was entirely up to you to come or not," he said mildly. "You know, Mr. Corbierre probably *is* having an affair," she said, relevant to nothing in particular. "Well, maybe if she suddenly begins to shower him with love and affection, their marriage will be saved and she need never be the wiser," he said, in a suddenly bleak tone. Ever alert to a Mulder mood heading south, Scully roused herself. No doubt heíd thought he was doing her a favor, and was disappointed to find that she seemed completely lacking in gratitude. Or, it might have occurred to him that he couldnít exactly look forward to anyone showering *him* with love and affection any time in the near future. Find something nice to say, she thought. "That was clever of you, to figure out what the problem was so quickly." "Actually, Iíd already checked out his fatherís death certificate," Mulder said, but he looked gratified nonetheless. "I told you I had my suspicions." "So, Mulder, where are we going?" she asked. "Back to I84." Despite her resolution to behave more cheerfully, she couldnít help a note of outrage. "Weíre driving all the way back to D.C. tonight, in this?" "No," he said patiently. "Weíre stopping at an Inn in Southbury and having a very nice dinner and then staying overnight in two lovely rooms." After a moment, he looked over at her. "If thatís okay with you." She nodded, feeling out of her depth. "It sounds very nice," she said, faintly. "Good," he said, grimly, focusing on the increasingly difficult driving. "And thatís why we didnít fly?" Scully asked. He didnít answer. She sat back and watched the road. The wipers thwacked back and forth. The frozen rain had turned to a wet, heavy snow which swirled crazily in the wind. There were fewer cars on the road now, and Scully had the odd apprehension that they would be on this road forever. But they weren't, of course. The Inn was set back on a quiet road, now exceedingly scenic with all the trees coated in four or five inches of heavy snow. The car fishtailed gently on the last turn up the driveway. "I'll check us in," he said, and disappeared. Scully sat there and felt as if her entire life had become a passive exercise in going along with other people's plans. Her mom wanted her to go help Tara with a baby, so she went. Mulder suddenly took it into his head to plan an expedition, and here she was. The consortium wanted her ova, and by God they had them all. The FBI wanted her services, and thanks to who she was and Mulder was and the bad guys were, she was pretty much stuck with that. She felt a tide of peevishness rise up in her and at the same time felt ashamed, because here was Mulder stepping up and doing something nice for her and she just couldn't appreciate it properly. He came back and motioned her in, took the luggage into the lobby, gave her a key, then took off to park the car. "See you at the room," he called. "Dinner's casual here, if you want to change." The room was lovely. Quilt on the bed, fat chocolate chip cookie on the quilt, a partially fogged window overlooking a snow-covered landscape, and all the amenities she never expected from their usual lodgings: a coffee maker, an iron, a refrigerator, extra pillows and blankets. Flowers on the table. Flowers on the table? It was a nice big vase of mixed flowers. And there was no card, which was almost a relief. Mulder was, after all, a man who couldn't give her flowers even in the hospital without claiming he'd stolen them from some guy on crutches. And yet, here they were. Feeling her pulse suddenly beating faster with a strange sort of excitement, she decided to change into jeans and a sweater and do her best not to seem rattled. He knocked on the door about twenty minutes later, newly shaved, dressed casually, and smelling of cologne. "Wow, nice flowers," he said, looking impressed. "Yes, beautiful," she said. "I'm thinking maybe they stole them from some guy on crutches." "Could be," he said. "Let's go, I'm starving." So she followed him to the dining room, which was cozy and firelit and altogether not their usual fare. She found herself sitting there, heart pounding, licking her dry lips repeatedly, and scanning the menu without actually reading any of it. In short, she was experiencing all the full blazing terror of a first date. "You okay?" he asked. "Yeah," she said. "You really hate this, don't you?" "No, I like it," she said, but she didn't sound too convincing. He looked deflated. "Scully, this doesn't have to be anything different than any other meal or motel we've ever shared. I just thought it would be nice, for a change, to try to show you a good time, you know? Give you something nice to come home to." Her eyes filled with tears. "Ah hell," he said. "Mulder, I cry when people are nice to me," she said, trying to explain. He looked appraisingly at her. "I guess I haven't been nice to you very often, then." She blew her nose. "You've had your moments." He smiled briefly. She tried to relax -- it was just Mulder, after all -- and was able to read enough of the menu to order dinner a few moments later. After the waiter left, an awkward silence fell. She sipped the excellent wine, chewed on a roll, and looked around the room, umcomfortably conscious that he was studying her. "So, Scully, other than shock that your partner is being unexpectedly nice, is there anything else bothering you?" "Why do you ask?" "Because you seem bothered?" She looked at him and he looked back. This is where she would normally crack a minor witticism or find some other way to say she was fine, thank you, and that would be the end of it. But Mulder had broken out of his usual pattern today. Maybe she should reciprocate. "I guess life sometimes has a way of offering you things you just aren't prepared for," she said, by way of introduction. He looked chagrined. "I kind of overdid it with the flowers, huh?" "The flowers?" she asked, confused. "No, the flowers are lovely. It's Tara and Bill. They offered me something I just wasn't ready to even think about." He waited. She sighed. She was fairly sure this was the end of any pleasant fantasy either of them might have had about sharing a romantic evening together. "Matthew and Katy were conceived using in vitro fertilization," she explained. "In the process, a number of embryos were created. And now that they have their family, Bill and Tara offered me the ones they haven't used yet." Mulder's mouth dropped open. She took another sip of wine and shrugged. "So you can see why I might be a little preoccupied." "Well, yeah," he said. He took a gulp of his beer. "Do you want to do it?" She shook her head no automatically. "It's like I said. Sometimes life offers you something you're just not ready for." "You could get ready for it if you wanted to," he pointed out. "What, you think I should seriously consider taking them up on this?" she asked, disbelieving. "I don't think this is about what I think," he said carefully. Oh. She knew he was trying to be respectful of her personal choice, but it still felt like he'd cast her away. She sipped her wine carefully, trying not to betray her sense of desolation. He looked miserably at her. "That wasn't the right answer, was it?" "It was if it's what you really think," she said in a low voice. Mulder bowed his head. "Scully," he said, "You just told me you have an opportunity you thought you'd never have. I admit, it doesn't fit in with any hopes I had for this evening, or this year, or maybe even this decade, but who am I to tell you one way or another?" "I guess you're the closest thing I've got to someone whose opinion I'd want to have on the matter," she said bleakly. "Which maybe is a sad commentary on the state of my life, but there you have it." He winced, and looked around the nearly empty restaurant. Snow was still falling heavily and collecting in all the crevices of the window frames. "Well, this is really fun." She gave him a sad smile of commiseration. The food arrived and they both pecked at it halfheartedly. "You know, your brother has made it very clear that he thinks I'm one sorry son of a bitch," Mulder said. "Those were his exact words, in fact. So let's say you go ahead and have this child, and let's say it's a little boy. I'm thinking as soon as he can talk the first thing he'll say to me is --" Mulder imitated a high-pitched little kid voice -- "'you sorry son of a bitch.' And then he'll grow up to look exactly like Bill. So I'm not completely unbiased in this matter." Scully lifted an eyebrow. "But that would probably never happen anyway," he continued, "because they probably told you this arrangement was contingent on you leaving the X Files and never consorting with your crazy partner again, right?" "Actually," she said, "the only string attached was that they wanted to be godparents. And I was somewhat surprised to find that Bill assumes we're together." It was Mulder's turn to lift an eyebrow. "You sure your *brother* hasn't been replaced by an alien imposter?" "Well, it wasn't a total personality change," she said. "I think the way he put it was something like he'd decided you were 'not a totally bad thing.' But that's definitely an improvement. You must have impressed him ...." She trailed off, instinctively shying away from any direct mention of Emily. "God knows how I managed that," Mulder said in a voice ripe with self-disgust. "Mulder," she said, reaching out and grabbing his hand. "Even a certified asshole like my brother could see that you tried your best to be there for me." He ducked his head for a moment. Then he looked up, his face determined. "Because I love you, Scully," he said, simply, as if in explanation. She stared back at him, speechless. When she didn't say anything, he laughed shakily. "Another one of those things life is throwing at you lately that you're not ready for?" "No," she said, quickly rousing herself. "No, Mulder. I think I've been ready for this one for awhile." He looked cautious. "Really?" She nodded, fighting tears and failing miserably. God, what a couple they were! She was quite sure normal people could go out to for dinner and announce their love for each other without sobbing uncontrollably. Mulder was kneeling on the floor next to her chair and wrapping her his arms before she'd quite realized what was happening. "Oh, Scully. I'm sorry it took me so long," he muttered. "S'okay," she said, sniffing. Then she laughed weakly. "What?" he asked. "Here we are, Mulder," she said, in a high-pitched, almost hysterical voice somewhere between crying and laughing, "in a really nice restaurant in a beautiful inn on a snowy New England evening. So, in the midst of all this romantic ambiance, I tell you about my brother's leftover embryos; then you tell me you love me and I thank you for it by completely losing it. I mean, no wonder it took you six years to work up your courage. As it is I half expect some alien to arrive at our table any minute." "Well, then, maybe we should think about getting out of the dining room," he murmured. She took a shuddering breath. "Okay," she said in a small voice. So they left, only peripherally aware of the staff, who were observing these high-strung guests with trepidation and giving them plenty of room. When they got to the door of her room, he didn't follow her in. She turned around, taken aback that he was hanging in the doorway. "I think you've had kind of a rough day," he said, as if in explanation. "We don't have to rush anything, you know." "I thought the day was finally looking up," she countered, disappointed. "Really?" He couldn't help perking up, she noticed. She walked further into the room to admire her flowers. Unfortunately, that also gave her a glimpse at her make- up strewn face and puffy red nose. Christ, she looked like an X File. "Um, do you mind if I go wash my face? I'd like to lose the Tammy Faye look." He looked relieved and said, "Sure. I'll be right back." When she came out of the bathroom he was sitting on the end of her bed, flipping channels on the TV and reeking of mouthwash. She sat down next to him and he looked at her with what she recognized as subdued panic. "Okay, Mulder," she said. "Teeth brushed, face washed, anything else we should check for here? Bees? Listening devices? Sexually transmitted diseases?" "Already looked, room's clean. And I'm clean, unless you count unknown alien viruses," he offered. "Same here, I guess," she said. Well, this was romantic. Apparently they had passed the point of being spontaneously carried away on a wave of passion, quite possibly by a matter of years. She sat on the end of the bed next to him and thought, how do we do this? Should I just jump his bones? Was there anything that might help this extremely tense man sitting next to her relax and enjoy the evening? She grabbed his hand. "You do know I love you, don't you?" she asked, finally raising her eyes to his. And that was all it took. Lips met and parted, tongues greeted each other, hands caressed, arms enfolded, breaths were sighed, and two souls long parted came together at last. xxx Water is rushing around her, bubbling and gurgling, and she is swimming effortlessly. She realizes with some surprise that she is completely naked, and that even though the stream is cold she is completely comfortable. The need to breathe doesn't appear to be an issue, and she ducks in and out of the water and watches her breath form little puffs of vapor in the cold air. She is bobbing and swimming happily when she realizes that her mom is on the farther shore, with Bill and Tara and Melissa and her Dad and Emily and Charlie and all of Charlie's family, too. The living and the dead don't seem to find it remarkable that they're hanging out there together, so she doesn't think much about it. "Dana! Dana!" they are all yelling -- all except Emily, who is just watching. "Dana Katherine, come back!" She knows they want her to swim back to shore. She knows they expect her to. But she can't leave this beautiful cold stream, where she is swimming so effortlessly, and trade it in for a heavy climb on to the rocks. She'd explain it to them if she could, but she can't. So she waves. Her brother, she notices, has pulled out his fishing tackle. He casts toward her with a hook, and on the hook is a carrot. A carrot? Get real, Bill, she thinks, and swims further downstream. Then she realizes that someone is in the water with her, and she is delighted to find that Emily has joined her. Emily darts around her, swimming just as effortlessly, smiling and playing. Scully is delighted, but all too soon she realizes that Emily has swum much further along, and is waving goodbye. She wants to yell at her to return, but she has no voice to yell with. Bubbles come out of her mouth and rise to the surface and break. Emily smiles and waves and darts away. Scully swims as hard as she can after her, but she can't catch up. She supposes she is crying into the stream, but her tears wash away immediately in the cold rushing water. Finally, she finds herself bobbing around in a dark, deep pool in a quiet stretch of the water, and she wonders if she should have swum away from her family like that, for now it appears that she is all alone. Then she realizes that Mulder is sitting on the shore, not far from her, watching intently. Will he try to catch me with a carrot, she wonders. Will he tell me we're due in Skinner's office in an hour? She kicks her heels out of the water and splashes, showing off, showering him with water. And then he's in the water with her, as naked as she is, darting and playing and splashing. He captures her and surrounds her and closes his mouth tenderly on her throat in some ancient fishy way of mating, and they move as one, ecstatic with the heady completion of it. xxxx She woke to the sound of water dripping from the eaves, the trees, from every icy surface now melting in the bright sun. Mulder, she discovered, had his arms wrapped around her from behind and was slowly, maddeningly kissing her ears, her jaw, her neck. "Mmmmm?" she asked. "Morning," he said huskily. "You were dreaming. I saw your eyes moving." "I was a fish in a stream," she said dreamily. "And you were there. You were a fish, too." "Is that a good thing?" he asked. "Oh yeah," she said, as he began to kiss her again. "You swam with me." He grunted and continued trailing kisses down her clavicle. "I'm so surprised, Mulder," she said. "I always hoped, someday, that we might take some comfort in each other along the way. But to feel like this, I never expected it." "Feel like what?" he asked, pulling her back toward him and continuing his kisses along her collarbone and down to her breasts while his other hand explored further regions. "Like God is smiling on us. Like what is missing can be found, like what is broken can be repaired," she said, then hissed as his explorations paid off. "Oh, my God." He smiled against her belly. "I know you want to worship me for my superlative skills in bed, but please don't call me God." "Uhhh," was all she could reply. "Though I am feeling rather Godlike at the moment," he confessed. "Like I could do anything. Like together we can do anything. In fact, the only thing beyond conception to me right now," he said, "is that we will ever be apart." She sighed in pleasure. "In fact, if you'll allow me, I'd like to demonstrate exactly how very, very together we can be." And so he did. #### Later, they ate breakfast in the nearly deserted restaurant, checked the rapidly improving road conditions, and decided they'd give it another hour before trying to head back to D.C. The Inn was connected to a little tourist mall and they wandered through, the only customers in sight, holding hands and checking out the antiques and gifts. One of the little shops was a bookstore, and while Mulder got absorbed in one of the latest UFO books, Scully found herself wandering into the children's section. "Can I help you find something?" the clerk asked. She was a friendly looking older woman. Scully appraised her for a moment before asking, "Do you know a book called 'The Runaway Bunny'?" "Of course," the woman replied. "The classic by Margaret Wise Brown. Every young child should have it, if you ask me. Well, that and 'Goodnight Moon'." She pulled out the book and handed it to Scully. "I might also have it in hardcover around here somewhere if you want," she said. "No, that's okay," Scully said, and the woman tactfully retreated. Scully looked at the book intently, but it didn't seem familiar until she opened it and started reading. Mulder came and looked over her shoulder. "Is this where you got the dream about being a fish?" he asked. "You know this book?" Scully asked. "Sure, I used to read it to Samantha when she was little. She loved it." Another child who was taken away, Scully thought, another mother who couldn't do a thing about it. And a brother who'd tried for years, transformed himself into all manner of things, but still couldn't find her. "You okay?" Mulder asked. "We tell these stories to children so they won't be afraid," she said. "But when I think of all the lost children --" "Like Emily?" "Emily," she agreed, and continued, "Samantha, and all the children who are murdered, all the children who are missing and never found, all the children who get sick and die..." He waited. She sighed. "I guess, I just wish it were really this easy to keep it from happening. But it's not." "Yet most children do survive," he reminded her gently. "I know," she said. "I know." "Scully," Mulder said. "God knows I wish we could do this the old-fashioned way. But there's a whole world of children out there who need a mother who will protect them as fiercely as you do. However you want to do that, we'll do it. As my favorite G-woman trying to keep the whole world safe, or as an adoptive mother driving a minivan, or even if you really want to have those little uber-Bill-and-Tara's, we'll do it." She stared at him, amazed. He didn't flinch. Then she smiled brilliantly. "I'm sorry, but what have you done with Fox Mulder?" she asked lightly, taking the book up to the counter. "All right, so I was lying about the mini van. Cut me a break, Scully." "I'd like to buy this for my niece," she told the clerk. After she paid, they wandered out onto the front walk and squinted into the brilliant sunshine reflecting off a foot of new snow. "So you actually think you're ready for fatherhood, Mulder?" "No, but I have faith that you'll get my ass whipped into shape for it quick enough." "You know, I'm beginning to think that anything is possible," she said. "I've been telling you that for years," he replied smugly. She looked at him with all the gratitude she felt. "Don't expect me to ever say this again, Mulder, but I know you have. And please, don't ever stop." THE END If you liked it, please let me know...