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Darkness. Surrounding me. Enveloping me.
Cold. Like ice. No, like dry ice, carbon dioxide. My skin feels... nothing. My body is numb.
Then, suddenly... pinpricks of light. As though I'm outside in the bright sunshine with my eyes shut tight. And just as suddenly, a touch. Soft fingers stroking my face. A warm hand holding mine. And a voice.
Oh dear god. Her voice.
Scully.
I hear her as if from under water. That's how I feel. Like I'm drowning, reaching out to her. I know, somehow, that if I can get to her, she'll save me.
"...come on back to me... you're safe now... wake up, Mulder..."
I'm trying, Scully. I'm trying.
"...that's it... just a little more..."
Her fingers move from my cheek to my hair, continue their light caress. Her other hand tightens its hold on mine. I try to squeeze back. She freezes, and I wonder if I've succeeded.
"Mulder. Mulder, it's me."
Scully. My angel. My love.
"Mulder, squeeze my hand."
I try again. I can hear her exhale, hear the joy in her voice.
"Yes. Yes, Mulder, that's it. Come on, Mulder, wake up. I need you to wake up for me."
I need to wake up for you, Scully. I need you, Scully.
"Please, Mulder..." Her joy gives way to tears. Don't cry, Scully, please don't cry.
Without being fully cognizant of it, I find myself blinking. The room isn't as bright as I thought it would be. In fact, it's downright dim. I turn my head toward the gentle pressure of her hand holding mine, seek her out with my eyes.
Scully
I try to say it, but my voice abandons me.
Tears hover on the edges of her lashes, but her smile is brilliant and full. She brings my hand to her lips. "Welcome home."
"Scully..."
She releases me and reaches for a cup on the bedside table, the fingers that were just running through my hair slip behind my neck to lift my head. The ice chips melt in my mouth and she lowers my head again, her fingers in my hair once more.
"Your throat may be scratchy for a while. Until this morning, you were on a respirator."
I look around now and see I'm in a hospital room. I notice a couple of IVs and several beeping monitors. I glance toward the window -- it's dark outside. But none of that matters. I turn back to Scully, and she gives me that thousand-watt smile again.
"How're you feeling?"
I try to talk, to tell her I'm okay, but nothing comes out. So I smile instead. Her eyes are shining, tears on the verge of spilling.
"I'm going to find your doctor. And I'll call Skinner, tell him you're awake. He'll want to see you."
I nod, squeeze her hand. My eyes drift shut as she leans down close, kisses my forehead. She stays like that for a long time, lips pressed to my eyebrow. She loses the battle to keep from crying, and I feel her tears on my skin.
A flash of memory overtakes me...
Cold metal beneath me. Voices, familiar and not. The high-pitched whine of a drill. Silence. Scully leaning over me. A tear falling on my face. Scully's eyes. The deep, soothing blue of her eyes.
"...promised the doctor you'd be awake..."
Her fingers in my hair again. God, that feels good. I open my eyes and she smiles. That feels good, too.
Then I notice there's a man standing with her. White coat, stethoscope draped around his neck. A doctor. He smiles, but there's nothing behind it. It's perfunctory.
"Good of you to join us, Mr. Mulder. I'm Dr. Norris, I've been taking care of you."
Liar. Scully takes care of me.
Her fingers cease their movement through my hair and she steps away. My eyes follow her. She smiles, reassuring, affectionate. Scully takes care of me.
He's speaking again, in that condescending tone doctors have. I force myself to turn back to him.
"...have a look, shall we?"
He pulls something from his pocket as he moves closer. Long, cylindrical, silver. I feel my eyes go wide and I flinch, hands flailing, trying to get away from him.
"Mulder, no!"
She comes to me, stilling my hands, turning my face to hers, willing me to look into her eyes. They calm me. She calms me.
"It's okay, Mulder. It's just a penlight. It's not what you think it is." She reaches behind her and takes it from him, shows it to me. It's just a penlight.
I let out a breath, close my eyes. When I open them again, she's speaking quietly with him. I can't hear her, but the soft murmur is comforting. After a moment the doctor glances at me, leaves. Scully comes back to me, sits on the bed next to me.
"You all right?"
"Am now." I sound like I did after that lung-sucking procedure, the last time I woke up in a hospital with Scully by my side. I reach out to her, to touch her. I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and she smiles. "Where?"
"GUMC." She takes my hand in hers, holds it tightly.
"How am I?"
She smiles again, feeds me more ice chips as she explains my condition. Dehydrated. Malnourished. Suffering from exposure. Blood pressure she describes as dangerously low. Electrolytes out of whack. Unconscious for three days. But I'm getting better, she tells me. Blood pressure and fluid levels back up, breathing on my own.
"X-rays?"
She nods. "Head to toe. No implants. I also did a thorough visual examination..." She blushes. Why? Surely she knows I welcome her gaze, revel in it. "I didn't see any unfamiliar scars."
"Good." See? Scully takes care of me. "How'd I get here?"
She smiles. God, I love her smile. "You called me. Well, the office. You were at a pay phone in Alexandria."
"Nice of them to drop me off close to home." I attempt a grin to go with the lame abduction joke, but her reaction isn't what I expect. She glances away, won't meet my eyes.
"You don't remember the pay phone?" I shake my head, and her brow furrows. "What do you remember?"
I close my eyes and sift through the images in my mind. I remember Scully, curling up with Scully in a motel room in Bellefleur. I remember Krycek and Covarrubias, wondering why I should trust either of them as far as I could throw them. I remember Scully again, holding her, kissing her in the halls of the Hoover Building, her small hands trembling as she fastens her cross around my neck. I'm suddenly seized with fear that They took it, and my fingers seek it out. Good. It's still there. I'm comforted by its presence. Just as I'm comforted by her.
"This," I tell her, clutching the tiny gold talisman between my fingers. "And you. Kissing you goodbye. Flying to Oregon with Skinner. Then..."
Bright light. Skinner's voice behind me, calling to me. But I can't move. I'm not sure I want to move.
I look at her now, reach out to her, caress her face. "...then you, holding my hand, running your fingers through my hair." I smile, hoping to coax one from her. I'm only partly successful -- hers is nervous, apprehensive.
Then it hits me.
"Scully... how long?"
I see in her eyes that she's trying to decide how much to tell me. I, of course, want to hear it all. But I'm in no way prepared for what I hear.
"Five years."
I blink at her. It's the only movement, the only reaction I can manage. Five years. Five years? How is that possible?
"I don't... how... Scully, what..." Jesus, I sound like a babbling idiot. She leans close, whispers in my ear.
"Don't worry about all that now. Get some rest, Mulder. We'll talk more later." She kisses my cheek and squeezes my hand, then whispers again. "I've missed you."
She's missed me. For five years.
The next time I open my eyes, she's standing by the window. It's still dark outside. Or maybe it's dark again. I can't tell.
She's not alone. Skinner's with her. They stand very close together, her hand on his arm. Jealousy stabs at my heart -- if I've been gone for five years... They talk quietly for another moment, then she sees that I'm awake.
That gets me another thousand-watt smile.
Then Skinner turns around, and I'm stunned. The man's got tears in his eyes. And he's smiling, too.
"Mulder." His voice is shaky. He comes closer, hand outstretched. I take it, and he envelops me in a strong, firm embrace. "Welcome home."
"It's good to be home, Sir."
He pulls back, embarrassed by his atypical display of anything less than total composure. He swipes at his eyes, daring the tears to fall, and then I see it. Something I've seen so many times in the mirror.
Guilt.
Scully sent him with me. He came back alone. And he's been carrying that for five years.
I realize I still have hold of his hand, and I don't let go. Not until I let him off the hook.
"It wasn't your fault." He shakes his head, starts to speak, but I go on. "There's nothing you could've done, no other choice to be made. Sir..." My voice drops a little, and I can feel Scully watching us. "Walter." He looks at me then. "Let it go."
He doesn't say anything for a long moment, then he nods. I know from experience it's not going to be that easy. I release my grip on his hand anyway.
"So. Five years. What'd I miss?"
I feel the palpable tension in the room dissipate, and Scully shakes her head. She knows me, knows how I hide. She sits next to me on the bed, holds my hand again while she and Skinner give me the highlights.
Scully runs the X-files now, has since I was taken. She even has two agents reporting to her. They've been searching for me all this time.
The Knicks have won the championship twice, even though Patrick Ewing retired four years ago. The Yankees have been to the World Series three times, but have only taken the title once.
My apartment isn't mine anymore. All my stuff is in storage. Everything except the fish tank. Scully has that, although I'm certain those fish have died by now.
Fish can't live in an aquarium for five years.
Skinner tells me he'll have me reinstated immediately, then put on paid medical leave until I'm ready to come back to work. Scully tells me we can call Dr. Werber tomorrow. Maybe he can help me remember the last five years.
I'm not sure I want to remember.
I'm not sure I want to go back to work.
All I'm sure of right now is that I want to go to sleep.
Scully notices my eyelids drooping, and she stands. Skinner takes his cue, and again I'm struck with a pang of jealousy. Unspoken communication is supposed to be between us. Scully and me. No one else. Certainly not her and Skinner.
I'm asleep again before they've left the room.
The darkness surrounds me, seeps into me. And the cold. So cold. I can't move, can't tell where I am. And I realize I'm frightened. Hell, I'm terrified.
A noise, far away. Trilling. Melodic, almost. Intermittent. It won't stop. Some new torture They've devised, like convenience stores playing Kenny G or Michael Bolton to get rid of the teenagers hanging out in their parking lots.
Thank god, it finally stops. A soft voice replaces it, then footsteps. Slowly I become aware of my surroundings, and my conscious mind realizes that the dark and the cold were a dream. Was the noise a dream too? I see Scully in the doorway, cell phone to her ear. The trilling sound -- her phone ringing. I can't hear what she's saying, her voice is soft but insistent. She glances at me, sees that my eyes are open. She ends the call and comes back to me. Her fingers find their way into my hair again.
"Hey, you. You're supposed to be asleep."
"Been asleep for days. What time is it?"
"After three. You need your rest."
"Who was that on the phone?"
She doesn't say anything for a moment, then shakes her head. "Doesn't matter. Rest."
"Must've been important. You have somewhere to be?" Skinner pops into my brain for an instant, but vanishes when she shakes her head again. The gentle movement of her fingers through my hair soothes me, nudges me toward sleep again.
"I'm not going anywhere, Mulder. I'll be right here when you wake up. Sleep now, okay?"
I nod, my eyelids heavy. I scoot over a little, pat the bed beside me. "Kinda lonely here all by myself." I give her a lopsided grin and a drowsy wink, but it takes her a little longer than I expect to kick off her shoes and climb onto the bed with me. I spoon up behind her, my arms around her. My nose and lips nuzzle her neck, her ear. Oregon comes to mind again, and my memory insists it was only a few days ago. I breathe in the scent of her. She smells like Home.
I sleep peacefully for the first time in probably five years.
I wake up alone.
She's standing at the window again. It's light outside now, daytime. She stares out at something, or maybe at nothing. I take advantage of the opportunity to study her, to see how she's changed.
On the surface, there isn't much about her that's different. Her hair is longer, she's a little heavier, there are more lines around her eyes... laugh lines, maybe. Inside... I'm not sure about inside. I've never been sure about what Scully's like on the inside. Her face is, as always, a mask of serenity. But there's something underneath, something she's hiding or avoiding. I'm reminded of so many times when she's held back what she feels.
I continue to watch her for another long moment, until she feels my eyes on her. She turns, gives me a gentle smile. "Morning."
"Hey. Did I manage to miss breakfast?"
She nods, a glint in her eye. "I could probably track down some oatmeal if you want."
I give an exaggerated shudder, which gets me a tiny laugh that fades almost as quickly as it appears. I reach out a hand to her and she takes it, coming to sit with me on the bed. I try to hold her gaze, but she won't meet my eyes. I cup her chin, tilt her face up to look at me, my thumb caressing her cheek.
"What's wrong, Scully? What aren't you telling me?"
Her chin quivers beneath my fingers, and tears well in her eyes. She leans forward then, buries her face against my chest. My arms go around her and I hold her tight, stroking her hair and murmuring soothing sounds as she cries.
"It's okay, love. Whatever it is, we'll deal with it. Just tell me."
She sits up, wiping her eyes and reaching for the box of tissues on the bedside table. She stays close, and her hand strays up to stroke my face. Then she smiles. Not the thousand-watt smile, but a smile all the same.
"I don't quite know where to begin..."
"I've heard that the beginning is a good place."
That earns me another small laugh. She takes a deep breath and looks into my eyes.
"I, um... I..." She takes another deep breath, then presses on. "I have a daughter."
I blink at her. For the second time in as many days, Scully has stunned me into silence. Now that she's gotten it out, she can't stop talking.
"Her name is Sara, she's four years old, she's incredibly smart... she's got this thick mass of dark auburn hair, and beautiful sparkling eyes..." Her hand slips from my face to my chest, and I can feel my heart thumping against it. She dips her head almost shyly, then her eyes meet mine again and her voice drops to a whisper. "Her father's eyes."
Her father's eyes.
Her father.
Me?
Okay, three times in two days. All I can do now is stammer.
"Scully... how... when... I thought..."
"I know, I thought so too -- but I gave up trying to figure out the mechanics of it a long time ago. I saw half a dozen doctors at the time, and none of them could figure it out. As for when..." She grins, a twinkle in her eye. "...I'm pretty sure 'Caddyshack' was involved."
I can't help it -- I burst out laughing. Memories of that night come rushing back...
The genie and her nonchalant way of granting wishes that turned disastrous. The panic that gripped me when I realized that wishing for 'world peace' and the resulting disappearance of every person on the planet meant that Scully was gone, too. Trying desperately to figure out a third wish that wouldn't hurt anybody. I never did tell Scully my third wish, but I think she guessed that I'd set the genie free -- she'd seen 'Aladdin,' after all. Besides, personal wishes were a recipe for catastrophe, and Scully and I were comfortable together -- best friends on the verge of... more. We didn't need a wish to bring us closer. All we needed was an excuse.
First she scoffed at my movie choice, then she didn't want butter on the popcorn. But what she didn't know was that I picked 'Caddyshack' on purpose. I knew she'd get bored, and when she got bored she dozed off, usually with her head on my shoulder -- and until the moment things shifted between us, I was perfectly happy with just that.
But that night when she got bored, she snuggled up close to me, her hand on my chest, her nails tracing little circles around my nipples. Her lips were at my throat and she nibbled her way up to my mouth. She pushed me back on the couch and draped her body over mine, never breaking our kiss. And while Bill Murray chased a gopher around a golf course, Scully and I made love for the first time.
And made a baby.
A daughter.
Our little girl.
I pull her into my arms again, both of us laughing and crying. She looks up at me, eyes shining.
"When did you find out?"
Her smile fades a little, and she caresses my face. "The day I found out you'd been taken."
"The dizzy spells." She nods, and I shake my head. "You couldn't have been nauseous like most women." That brings her smile back -- but mine vanishes. "Scully, if I had known... I would never have gone back to Oregon. You know that, right?"
She nods again. "If I had known, I wouldn't have let you go."
I wrap my arms around her again, whisper in her ear. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you, Scully. I'm sorry I left you all alone."
"We weren't alone, Mulder. We had my family..."
"Your mom, how does she feel about all this?"
"She always wanted a granddaughter, my brothers just have boys. She's thrilled."
Her brother. Oh god, that must've been hard. "I'm sure Bill's reaction was somewhat different."
She sighs, shakes her head. "Bill and I don't speak." I open my mouth but she puts her fingers to my lips. "It's not your fault, Mulder, it was his choice to make." I nod, waiting for her to go on, to tell me about her falling-out with Bill. She goes on, but in a different direction. "And we had our friends. The Gunmen are quite the doting godfathers."
Images of Frohike, Langly and Byers leaning over a crib, shaking rattles and cooing baby-talk, flash through my mind, and I shudder. Scully notices, laughs.
"No, really. They spent days putting baby furniture together. They made sure I took my vitamins and took care of myself. They were wonderful. They still are." Her voice drops a little. "Walter's been a good friend, too."
My heart stops for an instant, and I'm convinced that what I sensed yesterday was true. "Walter?" My voice croaks, and I'm not entirely certain I kept the note of jealousy out of it. She quirks an eyebrow at me -- guess I wasn't successful.
"He's done so much for us, Mulder -- for all of us. He made sure the X-files stayed open, that I had the resources and manpower I needed to search for you. And he told the truth about what he saw that night, putting his own career at risk. When people found out I was pregnant, rumors flew that he was the father. Not only did he set things straight, but he stood by me, supported me through everything. And he's helped me keep her safe."
Fire flashes in her cool blue eyes, and I'm immediately sorry I questioned their relationship. I shoot her a lopsided grin by way of apology. "Just don't tell me he was your Lamaze coach."
"Of course not. Mom was." She smiles softly, a memory in her eyes. "She got to see her granddaughter being born." She looks up at me again, her fingers finding my hair once more. I don't remember her doing that quite this much before, but who am I to question this new obsession of hers? "I can't wait for you to meet her."
Suddenly I'm afraid. I've been gone for this child's entire life. "What does she know about me, Scully? Will she want to meet me?"
"She knows you're her daddy. And that you've been... away. And that you'd come home. She'll want to meet you, Mulder. To get to know you. To be your little girl. And I want that, too."
I stare into her eyes as she says that last part. Oh god, there's nothing I've ever wanted more. Scully, and our daughter.
"Marry me." She blinks at me in surprise. Surely she could've seen that coming. "I love you, Scully. I want us to be together. I want to be your husband, and Sara's father. I want us to be a family."
There's something behind her eyes, something I can't identify. Pain, maybe, but I can't figure out where it could be coming from. She gets up off the bed, heads back to the window, not looking at me. I can't follow, there's still an IV in my arm. Besides, I know she's walked away from me for a reason, and I wait for her response.
She takes a deep, shuddering breath, but doesn't turn around. "Mulder, I..."
The knot in my stomach suddenly expands to gigantic proportions. I was wrong about her and Skinner -- please, God, let me be wrong about this.
"Who was on the phone this morning, Scully?"
She faces me now, eyebrow raised in surprise. Her mouth moves, but no sound comes out. I know now that I'm not wrong.
"What's his name?"
She closes her eyes and composes herself. When she opens them again, she's closer to the Scully I used to know -- cool, detached, emotions well-hidden.
"Ethan. Ethan Minette. I knew him a long time ago... before you and I met."
I nod, and it's my turn to look away. I remember hearing about a boyfriend when we first started working together, but I was sure she'd ended it.
"You were living with him then, weren't you?" She gives a tiny nod. "And you broke up with him. Because he didn't like you traveling so much."
"It wasn't quite that simple... we were both young. We wanted different things." I shrug. I don't really want to know why she's with this guy now. I just want to know if she's going to stay with him. But she wants me to know. "I met him again when Sara was about six months old. It'd been eight, nine years... he'd grown up. We both had." She stops, kicks at an invisible speck of something on the floor. Then she looks me straight in the eyes. "Mulder, I am so sorry..."
"No -- Scully, don't apologize. I was gone, you had no idea if I'd ever come back, you... you have a child to raise. You did what you had to do." I glance at her left hand -- her bare left hand. "You should put your ring back on."
She stares at me a moment, then her face crumbles. Sobs wrack her small body as she appears to fold in on herself. I open my arms and she comes to me, burying her face against my shoulder. I hold her, rock her, my fingers in her hair this time. We stay like that for a long time, until her tears subside. But she doesn't release me, doesn't pull away.
"I love you, Mulder. I do. I always will." She looks up at me, her cheeks wet, anguish in her eyes. "But I had to think about Sara, what's best for her, and I..."
"I know, love... I know." I kiss her forehead, my lips lingering as long as possible. I wipe away her tears, wish I could wipe away her anguish as easily. "Look, it's... it's been quite a morning. I think I'd like to rest for a while."
She nods, grabs another handful of tissues, gets ready to leave. "I'll come back this afternoon..."
"No." She starts to protest, but I cut her off. "Go home, Scully. Have dinner with your husband... your daughter. Be with your family. I'm sure they've missed you these last few days." She draws an unsteady breath, but nods and musters a tiny smile. "Just... do me a favor, okay? Don't say anything to Sara just yet."
Her brow furrows. "Mulder..."
"Just for now. Please."
She struggles with my request, then finally nods. "For now." She comes back to my side, kisses my cheek, whispers in my ear. "I love you."
I nod as she pulls away, squeezes my hand and goes. I lay back, my mind racing, trying to make sense of it all, my eyes shut tight against the tears welling there.
I sleep through lunch too, and the nurses are starting to worry about me. One, who reminds me a lot of Scully's mom, clucks about how thin I am. When I explain to her that hospital food makes me gag, she laughs and tells me it makes everybody gag. She promises to bring me a cheeseburger when she comes back from her break if I promise to eat the nutritious dinner they have planned for me.
I finally turn on the TV and flip quickly through the channels. Jesus, five years and daytime television hasn't improved one bit. I stop when I come to a baseball game -- Boston and Memphis. I wonder idly when Memphis got a major league team, then realize that baseball is baseball and settle back to watch. Some time later, a voice floats toward me from the doorway.
"Some things never change."
Frohike.
I click the game off as he approaches, both of us grinning like idiots, locking each other in a giant bear hug. He pulls a chair close, that silly grin still plastered on his face.
"What happened to you, Frohike? You got old."
"This is what five years of looking for you'll do to a man. Mulder, you are a sight for sore eyes."
"Where're your sidekicks? Don't they care?"
"They'll come by tomorrow. I wanted to talk to you alone."
"Scully called you."
"Yeah."
He watches me closely, and I have to look away. "I... How can this be both the best and the worst day of my life? I find out I have a daughter... and that her mother... the only woman I've ever truly loved... is married to another man."
"She was strong, Mulder, she never stopped looking, never gave up hope. But it was hard. She needed... she needed more than three aging conspiracy theorists and her tight-ass boss could give her."
I know he's right. She needed me, and I was... I wasn't here.
"What's he like?"
"You want facts or opinion?"
"You guys ran a background check, right?"
"Oh yeah. Nobody goes near Scully or Sara without us checking 'em out first."
"So what's he like?" I finally look at him again, hoping against hope that he'll tell me this Ethan person is a drug-addicted ex-con and Scully's on the verge of divorcing him -- but I know her too well. She wouldn't have been with him in the first place if he wasn't a decent person.
"He's okay. He puts up with us because we're her friends, but he's a good man. He's good with Sara, too."
More than I want to know, but something I need to hear. I start to respond, but he goes on.
"But Mulder... she calls him Ethan." I raise an eyebrow in surprise. "Scully made sure from Day One that Sara knows who her father is. She's got pictures of you in her room, and your fish tank -- she says she's taking care of Daddy's fishies."
Oh my god. It didn't feel real until now. There's a little girl out there who's a part of me. And another man who's raising her. What the hell am I gonna do?
There's one more thing I need to know, and I pray my friend will be honest with me.
"Does he love her?" He knows I'm not talking about Sara now. He nods. I swallow hard, and dive into Mulder's Masochistic Questions, Part Two. "Does she love him?"
"Not like she loves you."
"That's not an answer, Frohike."
"It's the only one I've got." Conviction is evident in his voice, and conflict. We're his friends, he wants to support us both, but our needs are diametrically opposed.
I give him a nod and a reassuring smile. My nurse friend comes in with the cheeseburger she promised me -- bless her, she brings fries and a chocolate shake too -- and it occurs to me that I don't know when I ate last. Frohike stands, gives me another hug.
"Call us when they spring you. You can stay with us until you find a new place."
"Bring me some clothes next time, huh? They took mine to examine for trace evidence." He nods, turns to go. "Hey, Frohike?" Our eyes meet, unspoken thanks flowing between us. He raises a hand -- he still wears those goofy gloves with no fingers -- then goes.
I'm a good boy for Nurse Cheeseburger -- I eat every bite of my dinner, except for the green jello. Too many disturbing memories associated with slimy green stuff. Dr. Norris stops by with the news that, try as they might, they can't find anything wrong with me that hasn't already been fixed. I can go home tomorrow.
Home.
I'm not sure what that means anymore.
I nap after dinner, bored with the state of prime-time network television and finding no baseball games on. I wake at the touch of her hand in my hair again, but it doesn't soothe me now.
"Hey, sleepyhead."
"I used to be an insomniac. I'd say this is progress."
She smiles at me. She's wearing her wedding ring now. It's simple and understated, like her. There's no flashy engagement ring accompanying it.
She notices me noticing the ring, and she pulls her hand away. She sits in Frohike's chair. "I saw your doctor. He said you were being discharged tomorrow. Do you want me to pick you up?"
And take me where, Scully? Home with you, to your husband and my child? I just shake my head, tell her Frohike and the guys will come for me. I drop my voice, let just a tiny bit of the hurt I feel show through. "You didn't have to call him, Scully."
She picks up on the hurt, and worries her lower lip as she figures out what to say. "Mulder, there were things I needed you to understand... and I wasn't sure I could explain."
"Try, Scully. Please." I need to know now. I need to know where I stand. With you, with Sara.
She studies her hands, fingering her wedding ring. She doesn't look at me.
"I didn't just marry him on a whim. I considered everything. Ethan, what he was like before... how he'd changed. Sara's needs. My needs. And you." She looks at me now, folds her arms, hugging herself tightly. She's in so much pain -- I want to go to her, to hold her, to kiss her pain away. But I don't have that right anymore. "You have no idea, Mulder, how many times I thought about what I would say to you when you came home. How I would tell you about Sara... about Ethan... and I've completely screwed it up."
She looks like she's going to cry again. My Scully doesn't cry this easily. But she's not my Scully anymore. I can see that now. She loves me. But I think she's in love with Ethan.
"Scully? Are you happy?" The question surprises her, I think. Surprises me, too.
"I... I guess..." She stops, and seriously considers her answer. Then she gives me a little smile. An almost apologetic smile. "I have a good life."
That's the best, most honest answer she can give me. And I know. She's not going to leave him for me. I don't think it was ever a real possibility. I close my eyes, trying to hide my own pain.
I hear her open her briefcase, and I glance at her. She holds a large book on her lap and smiles shyly. "I brought you something." She stands, brings the book to me, hugging it to her chest. "I've been keeping this for five years..." She holds it out to me, then perches on the edge of the bed.
I take the book from her, curious. I look at the leather cover, at the words embossed in gold, and my heart stops.
Sara Anne Mulder.
I look up at Scully, and she smiles gently. I trace the gold letters gingerly with my fingertips. I'm not prepared for this. "Sara Mulder." My eyes meet hers again, and I feel tears building. "You gave her my name."
She takes my hand, gives it a squeeze. "Of course. She's your daughter." She glances away. "When we got married last year, Ethan wanted to adopt her, but I... I wouldn't do that. I couldn't give up on you."
I tug at her hand still clasping mine, and she looks at me. I smile at her, bring her hand to my lips. She returns my smile and scoots closer to me as I open the book.
The first page makes me laugh out loud.
"My first sonogram." She leans close and points to a spot near the center of the image that, to me, doesn't look all that different from the rest of it. "There she is."
I shake my head and turn the page. There are two more sonograms, and Scully points out the baby in each of them. In the last one, she's big enough for me to make her out on my own. I put my hand over the image, over her little hands, her little feet, and I can almost feel her move under my touch. The tears I was fighting before come back with a vengeance.
On the next page is a small photo of a tiny, red, squalling bundle of energy. Beneath the picture, in Scully's distinctive hand, it reads, 'Sara Anne Mulder - March 15th, 2001 - two hours old.'
"Scully... she's bald."
She laughs. "I wondered about that, too. Mom swears that Bill and Charlie had lots of hair, but Missy and I didn't even have peach fuzz on our heads."
I nod absently, and as before, I touch the photo. I stroke her forehead with my thumb, as if I can go back in time and soothe her crying. "Was she a good baby?"
"Well, let's see... up at all hours of the night, calling for me, needing me, expecting me to be there..." Our eyes meet, and I see the twinkle in hers. "...loving me unconditionally. Definitely her father's daughter."
"And she's... she's okay?"
"Yes." Her voice is strong -- she knows what I'm concerned about, she was concerned about it too. "We ran every possible test, before and after she was born." Scully takes my hand, holds it tightly. "She's perfect."
I close my eyes and offer up a silent prayer of thanks to a God I'm growing more and more certain of. He's given us two miracles -- that Sara was conceived at all, and that she's healthy.
Scully reaches over and turns to the next page in the photo album. Sara's christening. Scully and her mom holding Sara, the baby in an elaborate christening gown. Probably an heirloom, maybe even the one Scully was christened in. Skinner, Frohike, Langly and Byers surrounding them, huge smiles on their faces.
I toss Scully a look. "How'd you get Langly and Frohike into suits?"
She shrugs. "Wasn't hard. It was for Sara. Those guys would do anything for her." She frowns a little, turns to me. "Is it okay? That I had her christened in the Catholic Church?"
My fingers stroke the little gold cross that still hangs around my neck. She notices, and her smile returns. "Yeah, Scully, it's okay."
I turn the page again, continuing my journey through Sara's first years. Taking a bath. Sitting up. Crawling. Standing. Her first steps. Apparently the bald thing only lasts about six months or so -- in the later pictures of her first year, she's got a headful of dark hair, a deep reddish brown. After the milestones come the holidays. Halloween. Thanksgiving. Christmas. Birthdays.
Most of the pictures are of Sara alone, or with her extended family, but there are a few of just the two of them. Scully and Sara. No -- Dana and Sara. Another way she's changed. She's softer here, softer than I've ever seen her. Cuddling, playing with her little girl, smiling for the camera... content. And happy.
I turn to one marked 'Christmas, 2003' -- Sara would be almost three years old. They're both in dark red velvet and lace, sitting next to a Christmas tree, Sara on her mother's lap. Both wearing her 'enigmatic Dr. Scully' smile. They look serene.
"Beautiful." I look into her eyes, bring my fingers up to caress her face. "Both of you. So beautiful." She stares at me, our eyes locked, until I can't bear to look at her anymore. God, I ache for her. I crave her touch, the feel of her lips on mine.
She pulls back a little, breaking our contact. I lean back against the pillows and try to steady my breathing. I glance at her -- she's flushed, her own breathing shallow and rapid.
"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." It's true. She just shakes her head, studies her fingernails. "For you, Scully, it's been five years. You've gone on with your life. But for me... it's barely been a week." Christ, I can still remember the last time we made love.
She's surprised. She knows my memory skips from being in the forest with Skinner to being here with her, but the larger meaning of that escapes her until just now.
I take her hands in mine and give them a quick caress, my fingers brushing her wedding ring. Then I go back to the photo album, turn another page. She looks at the next pictures and pales visibly. She practically dives for the book, tries to cover the photos. "Mulder, I'm sorry, I thought I took those out..." I still her hands, push them away, needing to see what's affected her so strongly.
On one page, Sara's third birthday. Blowing out the candles. Dana on one side... a man on the other. Ethan.
On the facing page, Dana and Ethan's wedding. Dana in a pale lavender dress, Ethan in a dark suit. Sara in Dana's arms, holding the bouquet.
In both pictures, the three of them look happy. Joyous. They're a family.
She gets up off the bed, paces the room. She's distraught, kicking herself for hurting me. I have to tread lightly.
"I'm glad you didn't take them out." Again, I've surprised her. She stops pacing, slowly turns to face me. I smile and hope it's reassuring. I glance at the wedding picture again, touch Sara's image there. "This... Ethan... is a big part of her life... both your lives." I close the book and trace the gold letters. Sara Anne Mulder. "Can I hold on to this? I'd like to look at it again."
"It's yours, Mulder. I put it together for you. So you wouldn't miss anything." The fresh tears in her eyes fall now. The ones in my eyes should follow their example at any moment.
"Thank you, Scully. Thank you for my daughter." My voice is barely above a whisper, but she hears me, and she smiles.
She comes to me and leans down close, her thumbs swiping at those damn teardrops trailing down my cheeks. She practically forces me to look into her eyes.
"I love you, Mulder. I always have. I always will."
She kisses me. Her lips on mine, soft and warm. She releases me, and I have to fight the urge to pull her to me again.
She turns and goes, grabbing her briefcase on the way out.
I shut my eyes and hug the photo album -- Sara -- to my chest.
I know now what I have to do.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It's her birthday tomorrow.
March 15th, 2009.
She'll be eight years old.
A significant age for the Mulder girls.
Of course, legally, she's not a Mulder anymore. She's a Minette. But deep down inside, she'll always be Sara Mulder.
Scully resisted at first. She resisted everything. Four years ago, I asked her to tell Sara I was dead, to let Ethan adopt her. I even signed papers relinquishing my parental rights, but she ripped them up and sent them back. She wrote me letters -- some angry, some pleading. I never answered them.
She didn't understand.
I did it for her, for Sara. For all of them, really. Sara had been through so much in her young life, I didn't want to complicate things any further. Despite the pictures of me in her room, she didn't have a father before Scully married Ethan. And Scully was happy before I came back. She had everything she wanted -- a home, a family, a normal life. I couldn't disrupt that. I wouldn't do that to them.
She didn't understand.
But she sent pictures.
I saw her kindergarten graduation, her first day of school, her second-grade Christmas pageant, her birthdays...
Finally, last year, Scully wrote to tell me that Ethan had gotten a job offer in New York City. She left the FBI a few months after I came back, had been teaching at Georgetown. Now she just wanted to be home with Sara, and Ethan's new job would let her do that.
She also decided it was time to take me up on my offer to let Ethan adopt Sara. She said it would be easier in New York if they weren't using three different last names. But I think she just got tired of pretending I might someday change my mind.
She didn't understand.
So I signed the papers and sent them back. Rather, Frohike sent them back. He's our go-between. She doesn't know where I live. It's better that way.
But I know where she lives now. A very nice co-op on Central Park West. I had to do some major arm-twisting, but Frohike finally told me. I needed to know.
It's her birthday tomorrow.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dana surveyed the damage left behind by Hurricane Birthday Party and sighed. "The next time I suggest we have ten eight-year-olds over here, stop me, please."
Ethan smiled and put his arms around his wife. "Only if you'll stop me the next time I suggest having half a dozen network execs over."
"Deal." Dana smiled and kissed him.
Sara chose that moment to come bounding into the living room with her last remaining guest, her best friend Theresa Caldwell, who was staying over. "Eww, Mom!"
Dana laughed. "You say that now. Just wait another eight years."
"Excuse me?" Ethan said, unprepared for the thought of his little girl kissing a boy any time in the not-too-distant future.
Dana laughed and kissed him again, exaggerating for effect. The girls reacted accordingly, making fake throwing-up noises and giggling.
They were interrupted by the doorbell, and both girls yelled, "I'll get it!"
Dana extricated herself from Ethan's arms and beat them to the door. "I'll get it." She checked the peephole -- she didn't recognize the man standing in the hallway. Even though he was in a courier's uniform, she checked the security lock and reflexively reached for the weapon that hadn't rested on her hip for nearly four years. In that instant, Dana disappeared -- and former Special Agent Scully reappeared. She spoke quietly to Ethan. "Did Security call about a delivery?"
"I don't think so, but we've had people in and out of here all day. Something wrong?"
She frowned, looked to the girls. "Sara, would you and Theresa help Daddy clean up the kitchen, please?" She cast a glance to Ethan, and he herded them out. Then she opened the door as far as the security lock would allow. "Yes?"
"Good afternoon, ma'am. I have a delivery for a Miss Sara Minette." The man smiled. He looked genuine, but Scully couldn't be sure. "I'm her mother. Could you tell me the return address, please?"
The man squinted at the small package. "It's a company name, TLG, in Washington, DC."
Dana smiled, relaxed. "Just a minute." She disengaged the security lock and opened the door, reaching for the man's clipboard and signing. He gave her the package and left.
She took the package over to the sofa and shook it gently. There was a faint rattle and she cocked an eyebrow, wondering what the Gunmen might've sent Sara for her birthday. She called to her daughter, who came running, best friend in tow. Ethan trailed behind them.
"What is it, Mommy?"
"A present from the Gunmen."
"Who?" Theresa asked.
"Mommy's friends. My godfathers. Well, three of my godfathers. You'd like 'em, they're weird." Dana and Ethan's eyes met above this conversation, and they smiled as Sara ripped the package open. "But why would they send me two presents?"
Special Agent Scully re-emerged and gently took the package from the girl. "Two presents?"
Sara nodded. "Uh-huh. The Marvin the Martian telephone was from them."
"I thought that was from Uncle Walter."
"Uh-uh. Uncle Walter sent me the new Harry Potter book. What's wrong, Mommy?"
A look passed between Dana and Ethan, then he spoke. "How 'bout another piece of cake, girls?"
"Ethan!"
"That's the best I could do on short notice."
"Mommy! Just open it, okay? If it was a bomb it would've gone off already."
Another look flashed between the grownups as they both suppressed a smile. Theresa looked at the Minette family as if they were all quite insane.
Dana opened the package. Inside was a flat, hinged blue velvet box, about three-by-four inches in size. She lifted the lid cautiously, then gasped softly when she saw what was inside.
"What is it, Mommy?"
Dana reached out a tentative finger and stroked the tiny gold cross, a wistful smile on her lips and tears in her eyes. She removed the necklace from the box and held it up for Sara to see.
Sara touched the cross almost reverently. She'd seen one like it in old pictures of her mother. "Pretty," she whispered, and turned around so Dana could fasten it around her neck. "Who's it from?"
"Dana?" Ethan had reached into the empty package, removing a folded slip of paper. He held it out to her, and she opened it.
S. - I was holding this for her. - M.
She folded the note again and glanced at Ethan, who looked at her with a question in his eyes. She nodded, tears finally escaping.
"Mommy, why are you crying?"
Dana smiled through her tears and pulled her daughter close, enfolding her in a fierce hug.
"Just thinking about someone I once knew."
END