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Title: Careful What You Wish For Summary: My take on the future partnership......be sure to do the Wayne's World squiggly thing noises and hand gestures wherever you see some asterisks. Note:Ah, here I am again. This has nothing to do with stalking horse, but thank you to all those who wrote me and Philebrarian regarding it. And thanks the Philebrarian for encouraging me in all this. (Boy, it's hard to keep this short!) Please send me whatever you want. November 20, 2002 He turned the envelope over in his hand. He smelled it. Nothing. It was crisp and white: no trace of her, no trace of the 3000 mile journey the envelope had made to be in his hands now. Her sturdy block letters silently declared "Fox Mulder" and his address on Martha's Vineyard. He ran a hand through his riotous hair, which only increased its directionless pointing. She didn't put her name in the return. She never did. It was like 1000 other letters he had from her. The only other indication of her was the old fashioned upside down stamp in the top corner. She'd been using this sign of affection since about a year ago. But right now, he wasn't remembering that. He was remembering 1997. A year of miracles for him. November 20, 1997 The phone rang in the basement, too loudly. It startled him. He'd been reading a book about cancer. The text of medical books always put him in a trance as he tried to make sense of the jargon. It was about 11 am. "Mulder." "Mulder it's me." "Yea. How are you? What did they say?" "Mulder. Could you meet me at the hospital in about an hour? They're taking me there from the clinic. I need some things from home..." He closed his eyes, tried to stifle the tears breaking out of them. He rubbed his chin. "I'll be right there," and he hung up. This would not be the time, he reasoned. It had not been a year since the cancer was diagnosed. It was too soon. They probably just wanted to make sure it wasn't growing. Run more tests. He sprinted out of the office. The phone rang again in the silence of the basement. He had no flowers. He didn't want to acknowledge that she was here. He calmly got her room number, walked down the white hall. He knew this hospital well, as both patient and visitor. In front of room 731, he stopped, drew a breath. Wiped his eyes to insure that he looked strong for her. Chewed his fingernail and opened the door. Dana Scully sat straight up on the hospital bed with her small feet hanging over the end. She kicked them back and forth like a child. She had become so thin and fraile, and her skin and hair so ashen. But on her face was million megawatt smile that paled anything his partner had ever smiled at him before. Her doctor stopped mid-sentence, hands frozen in mid air as if he'd been telling her an animated joke. "Mulder!" she squealed in a very non-Scully-like voice. The room was filled with balloons and streamers. He imagined that the tumor had pushed into her brain suddenly. That it pressed on her brain, impeded her thought processes, turned her into a child. "Scully?" he asked, truly not recognizing her. Her face turned serious, and he recognized her again. "It's gone, Mulder." "What?" She jumped off the bed. "Vanished. Without a trace. They want to run tests, try to find out why. I'll be here for about a week." "Nothing vanishes without a trace," her doctor offered. "Pinch me," he said, his face lighting up with a little boy's glee. His partner would not die? But he knew she would not. She hugged him hard. And much to his surprise, she pinched his rump, hard enough to make him yelp. November 20, 2002 That wasn't the only surprise November 1997 held for him though. He looked up at his Martha's Vineyard home, which had once belonged to his father. He stared hard at the upper right window. But she wasn't in it. November 30, 1997 He walked into his basement office at 6:30 am, ready to dig into the Mable case full on. She was sitting in his office chair, swinging her feet like a child. He couldn't breathe. She looked up at him from under long brown lashes. "Do you know when my brother will get here?" she asked. He couldn't speak. "They said my brother was coming. So they left me here." She had started fidgeting with her barrette, her nighty. Her long thick brown hair looked so soft it took his breath away. He dropped to his knees and cried. He had no questions, recognition was instantaneous. "Mister, are you okay? Please don't cry," she said, getting up and patting him lightly on the back. "Wanna know a funny thing? My brother's name is Fox. That's his real name. Just like Fox in Socks" He grabbed on to her then. She tried to get away from him. "Let me go! She screamed, in an amazingly familiar voice. "Let me go! Mister! Stop it!" But he couldn't, and then they were both crying. Samantha from fear, Fox Mulder from relief and joy. November 20, 2002 It had been a long five years. Samantha came back to him. But it was as if she had left the day before for her. She was still eight, last remembered their stratego game. Found herself on a sidewalk near their Martha's Vinyard home. She assumed she had fallen asleep outside that night. A man found her, and they discovered the house had been packed up. She became hysterical, but the man said he knew where her brother was. And brought her to his office the next morning, driving through the night and buying her an ice cream or two to calm her down. Never mind why the FBI had his dead father's home under survellience. He stared up into the right window again. She wasn't in it. Three weeks after she was returned, Fox Mulder left his apartment, left Washington, left the X-Files, and most importantly, left Scully. She took a few months to wrap up the open cases, then requested transfer to San Diego. He couldn't stop her. He had his hands full, using the full breadth of his Oxford training trying to be a parent and brother for an increasingly disturbed eight-year-old. Luckily Fox Mulder convinced her that he was indeed Fox Mulder. It took almost a year, and a lot of counseling and old family photo album digging to convice her of what had happened to her. His mother was afraid of her, didn't want any of the responsibility of raising her. This added a lot to Samantha's burden, because his mother was the only one Sam recognized immediately. His mom visited, took Sam out for the day shopping now. After five years, they were starting to build a friendship without him. But she definitely was not your normal thirteen-year-old. He stopped any medical testing of her six months after her return. She hated the hospital, as much as he did, and he saw no point anymore to discovering what had happened to her. He had her back. Scully was alive and well. They could win. He knew in his heart that he might have discovered their secret that year, might have been close enough to scare the hell out of them. Close enough to make them fix his entire life in such a way as to get him to abandon his quest. And they had won. He had no answers. No way to make the ratbastards answer to the people. But he had his sister back. And Scully was alive. They wrote frequently, and she kept tabs on him through the bureau too. Skinner had arranged for him to be a special consultant to the Investigative Support Unit. He worked from home, mostly part time unless some insidious freak alluded even his profiling prowess. It gave him more time with Samantha. He looked up again towards the house. This time, she stood in the window. She smiled a knowing smile at him, and he waved the letter. Despite her serious problems, she could read him like a book. Better even, than Scully ever had, and he couldn't believe, sometimes, how satisfying the journey with Samantha was becoming. He strode toward the house, anxious to share Scully's letter with Sam, a custom they developed soon after the first time the two women met. June 15, 1998 Mulder heard a small knock at the door. He had to control himself to stay in his seat. "It's open, Scully," he yelled. He didn't want her to not have a key, so he refused to answer the door. She pushed it open, and turned to pick up her suitcase. "Geezzz, Mulder, you could help me with this," she murmured. She looked beautiful, radiant, young. Her health had returned to her quickly after the tumor's disapperance. She was cracking balls at the San Diego office, and she and her new partner had the highest quarterly solve rate the freakin' California AD had ever seen. "Did you bring Jincks in that thing, or what?" Mulder asked, refering to the huge suitcase she trucked into his living room. She pointed. "Nice to see you kept the fish." "Shut up," he said, eying the empty tank bubbling in the corner of the foyer. "Na, I left Jincks at home. You know, it just occured to me that I'm constantly being partnered with guys who have really *silly* names." Oddly, since her move to San Diego, they had become truly close friends. Closer than they had ever been when death and their work hung over them. The professional line, having never been crossed, was now non-exsistant, and in its place were email messages and letters and phone calls and presents and a truly bright friendship. "Your here for three days, Scully, what's in that thing?" "You have a pool, right?" "No." "Oh. Well, I guess I brought some things for Samantha, then." A small silence fell. She cocked her head a bit, gave him a caring smile. The silence stretched out for a time between them, comfortable and old. The stresses of the past few months made his eyes water looking at her, and she hugged him. "Are you Dana?" a girl's voice asked. "Yes." Scully replied, letting go of Mulder. Samantha was standing on the stairs, and Scully caught her breath. Sam looked so much like the picture of her that Mulder kept on his desk for so long. "I'm very pleased to finally meet you." "What did you bring for me?" Ah, so Sam was a natural investigator, like her brother. "I had a sister who died," Scully began, dragging the suitcase into the living room. "A lot of people die. My dad died." "Well, yes," Scully continued. "But my sister had a lot of treasures when she died. I thought you could use some of them." She heaved the suitcase onto the couch, and sat down in front of it. Samantha sat down next to her. Mulder sat away from them, in his father's chair. "Go ahead and open it," Scully said. Mulder sighed. Scully was good with kids. But he knew she couldn't have them. A remnant of her time with him. He stared out the window, sad for the children who wouldn't have her as their mother. He knew she wanted to be a mother, had known her thoughts on that subject since the Home case. But for now, her joy about the cancer far outweighed any sorrow she may have about that situation. Samantha pulled open the case, and inside box after box of crystals and pyramids and jewelry and candle holders were surrounded by beautiful guaze and silk scarves and some books about healing and meditation. "Not the crystals, Scully," Mulder chuckled. "Yes, Mulder, the crystals." "Wow! Fox, it is a treasure!" Samantha said, putting the chain with the small purple crystal around her neck. November 20, 2002 "Want some tea?" Sam asked him as he came into the kitchen. "Sure." "From Dana?" "Yep." "This is a biggie," Sam said. "Yeah." He opened the envelope, and into his lap fell a picture of a beautiful five-year-old Asian child. She had long straight black hair, and a genuine smile. Mulder turned the picture over. Scully's block lettering sang out, "Shinjitsu Scully, five years old, 2002, 1st grade." "Oh, wow, she's so cute," Sam said, taking the picture out of his hand. "Is this the first picture you've seen?" "New mother's are busy, I guess," he replied. A year ago she had adopted the little girl, on her own. It was then that Scully started turning the stamps over on her letters. He suspected it was her way of letting him know that that part of what his quest had done to her was over too. Maybe that all she had now was fondness in her memories of their time together. "Read it, read it," Samantha enjoined him, rustling his hair, handing him his tea. "You," he said. "Mulder..." Sam began. She smirked at him. "I know what this says, you better read it." "I hate it when you two talk about me behind my back," he mumbled, snatching the letter back. Mulder, SHIN's DOING GREAT IN School...SHE's A NATURAL. SHE LIKES HISTORY ESPECIALLY. I GUESS I GOT LUCKY. LEARNING JAPANESE HAS BEEN A LITTLE DIFFICULT For ME, THOUGH. IT's NOTHING LIKE GERMAN. UNFORTUNATELY, SHE IS A LITTLE SAD, THOUGH. SHE SAYS SHE's GOING TO MISS HER NEW FRIENDS. WHEN WE MOVE. BACK TO Virginia NEXT Summer. IT WAS HARD TO SNEAK THIS One BY YOU, EVEN THOUGH YOU'RE JUST A CONSULTANT! THEY FINALLY ASKED ME TO HEAD UP The FORENSIC UNIT For INVESTIGATIVE SUPPORT. I THINK IT's FATE. LOVE, Dana Mulder sipped his tea in stunned silence. "Well???" Samantha asked. "Well? Don't you think it's great? We can see her all the time. You guys will probably consult on cases. It'll be like old times." Mulder spit a bit of tea out with a choked "No!" Sam reached beside him and snapped a paper towel off the roll, handing it gingerly to him. "What do you mean no?" "It won't be the same. It can't be," he said. "You're here. She has a Shin. Everything will be different." "No, Fox. She loves you. Just like before," Sam said. "Nothing else matters to me," he said, intense hazel eyes finding his sister's, and he saw there only understanding. She hugged him, and left the kitchen. They'd successfully protected themselves by giving him everything he ever wanted. Five years had made finding the truth someone else's agenda. He knew that the truth, for him, was in Samantha, and especially in Scully. And the power of that was undeniable.
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