"I, ah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you..." he stammers.

"You're not disturbing us," Scully says to him.

"Agent Joshua Reid, this is Agent Dana Scully," I say, as she puts her hand out to him.

He looks a little baffled for a few seconds, before he realizes she is the woman in the picture on my desk. I have not shared too much of my personal life with my new partner. He knows I have a son and I now live with my ex-partner. I wasn't the one who told him that. He found out through the grapevine.

"Oh! Agent Mulder's, um,...former partner," Reid says, not knowing what to call her.

"That, among other things," she says, "Has he quizzed you on your beliefs in the existence of ETs, EBEs, and paranormal phenomenon, yet?"

"Well, umm, Agent Mulder has asked me if I were open to extreme possibilities?" he says.

I would roll my eyes, but he's looking at me. Scully raises her eyebrow for me.

"Agent Scully and I have a meeting with Assistant Director Skinner at one o'clock. There's some paperwork here that's late, plus a little filing," I say to him, realizing that I'm using him as a secretary more than anything else.

"Yes, sir. Sure thing. I'll get on it," he says with his over eager, ass kissing, new agent voice.

"Should we head up there?" Scully asks, looking at her watch and standing up.

"After you," I say, leading her through the door.

"Mulder, you shouldn't take advantage of him like that. He's a trained special agent, not some GS-3 AA. And tell me that I was *never* that fresh-faced?" she whispers once we are in the hall.

"Yeah, you were. Until you met me. Give me some time with him. I'll age him tenfold, too."

"Gee. Thanks," she says, "Mulder, just make sure you don't turn him into another Krycek."

"That was not my fault, Scully," I tell her as we get on the elevator together.

We are directed to sit in the Assistant Director's office and wait for him. Scully brushes something off my tie and I no longer swat her hand away like I would have done in the past. Even in these surroundings, small acts like that have become commonplace in our everyday life.

Commonplace. Habitual. Routine. Old hat, I think, as she sits back into her chair, no longer fussing over my necktie. This is what couples call comfortable. I was never one who was much for comfortable. I miss our old life together, and this little foray into Skinner's office isn't helping me get over that feeling. The addition of Agent Reid into my life is really making me miss working with her all the more.

Too late, now, pal, I think to myself. It's a trade off. One life for another.

I look over to her. How could I want to go back? I ask myself. Easy. We worked well together. We had the X-Files together. Now we are down to discussions about what kind of car to buy or whether Chris should go to daycare. Hell, we aren't even married yet.

If we could go back to the way we were, there would be no Christopher. There would be no threats. No panicked called from hospitals on the other side of the country. No feeling the pain in thinking the unimaginable.

I look over to discover Scully is watching me with those blue eyes of hers. A small smile flickers across her face and tugs at my heart. If I could go back, there would be no first baby words, no first steps, and no first birthdays. No Friday nights in front of the fire with this woman sitting next to me. No discovering all the things I didn't know about her.

The only way not to feel the pain is not to live the life.

I don't know what is wrong with me. I guess I want it all.

Walter Skinner walks through the door at quarter after one, and sits behind his desk.

"It's nice to see the two of you together again," he says, shuffling through a stack of paper on his desk, "It has been awhile."

"It's nice to be seen together," Scully says to him.

"Good, because here's the deal. I have been informed that the two of you will temporarily be reassigned to me."

"Under what conditions, sir?" Scully asks, sitting forwards in her chair.

"You are going to be... working together again. Just for this one case," Skinner says, pulling out a case folder that is about two inches thick.

"What case is that?" I ask.

"Senator Paul Erickson's 'missing mother.' You know anything about it?"

Scully and I both draw in a long breath at the mention of the name. None of the information the Gunmen could gather made this man look too stable. His political career was taking off, but he seemed to be haunted by the loss of his mother.

"We know some of his theories about it," I say.

"He is apparently using some pull he has to use us as his own personal investigative police force. There will be four agents on the case, plus myself," Skinner says.

"Sir, if I remember correctly, his mother has been missing since 1977. Why is this a priority now?" Scully asks.

"Someone wants to keep him quiet about something. Probably his views on certain...issues. We are going to oblige him on this one thing."

"We're going to validate his alien abduction theory?" I ask incredulously, not believing that could possibly be the motive here.

"We are going to prove once and for all what happened to Erickson's mother in 1977," Skinner says.

"And if aliens did abduct his mother?" I ask, "Are they going to cover it up again?"

"If aliens did, Agent Mulder? If aliens did abduct one Mrs. Ellen Erickson in 1977, you had better damn well be prepared to be the star expert witness at all the congressional subcommittee hearings on the evidence of extraterrestrial life that Senator Paul Erickson will be hosting for the rest of his term. I don't know how *they* could cover it up, considering the senator is breathing down the justice department's neck as it is."

"Sir, Agent Mulder and I closed the X-Files and do not work together for a reason," Scully says, looking at Skinner with a new intensity, "and I don't think it is a good idea that we reopen them. I would rather stay with my current assignment..."

"This isn't an invitation, Agent Scully." Skinner says, interrupting her., "This order is coming from so high up, I'm surprised these people don't have nosebleeds. Besides, officially, you aren't going to be doing this as an X-file case. We are treating it as a violent crimes case for the present time."

"Still, the two of us together might ruffle the wrong feathers," I say.

"I fully recognize your personal concerns and I relayed those same concerns to the men who have put this together. They aren't the most sympathetic lot, especially when it comes to you two," Skinner says, "They feel as if you owe them for all the leeway they gave you in the past."

"Why us? If it is going to fall under violent crimes, surely..." Scully begins to ask.

"Because this is how it was requested, Agent Scully," Skinner says, his voice relaying that no more questions should be asked about how we were chosen.

"What arrangements have been made concerning this case?" I ask.

"There will be four agents on the case. The two of you, plus Agent Fowley and Agent Reid. The investigation is mainly in New Mexico, Erickson's home state."

I can see Scully's hands ball up into fists on her lap at the mention of Diana's name. Her face doesn't change, but her body has grown tense. She will never trust Diana, not after all she did in the past. This is going to be one hell of a case.

"I will be there, too," he says, "That is how important someone thinks this is. I'm going with to head up the beginning of the investigation, to make sure that it gets done quickly and quietly, so to speak. We will be leaving next Monday."

"Five of us? That's quite a road trip, sir," I say, trying to figure out the point behind this mess.

"Yes it is. This is considered quite important to someone."

"What are the assignments?" Scully finally asks.

"On paper it is Agent Mulder with Agent Fowley, while you will be working with Agent Reid...."

Something starts to come out of Scully's mouth, but I'm not sure if it was the beginning of a protest or just escaping breath.

"Before you say anything, that is only on paper. That was the only way someone would let this thing go through. I want you working with Agent Mulder when possible," he says to Scully, "It is well recognized that you both have a certain... rapport when it comes to working together. I am hoping your personal involvement will not cloud your judgement on this matter. This assignment is only temporary. I think you can handle it"

"Where do we start?" I ask.

"The two of you have a meeting with the senator tomorrow morning. Start there. Also, get the other agents up to speed on what is going on. I will see you both here on Friday."

"I have classes to teach," Scully says as we stand up.

"Not until this is wrapped up, Agent Scully. Your classes have been taken care of," Skinner tells her, "Here's the case file and another list of pertinent information you will need. I'll see you Friday morning."

She and I walk out the of his door, not knowing what to say to each other. Someone certainly has pulled a few strings to get their way, and they probably don't even know all the repercussions of what they are doing.

We say nothing until we get back to my office area. Agent Reid is no longer there and I have no inclination to go find him.

"Mulder, do you think we are being set up?" she asks me, a tinge of fear in her voice. She doesn't look at me, instead she is staring at Agent Reid's desk a few feet from mine.

"I think some stupid ass senator doesn't know what he's getting involved with. He's probably only seen the tip of the iceberg, and doesn't appreciate that it's a God damned glacier he's trying to steer around," I say, sitting down at my desk and flipping open our newest case file.

"What if we can't just wrap it up? What if there is no conclusive evidence that his mother was killed by some drifter twenty-five years ago? We are dealing with a trail of evidence that is going to be pretty much cold."

I look up from the paperwork I'm reading. I know where this is going.

"What you are really asking me is what if we find tangible evidence that she was abducted? Do we expose it and make the Senator happy for whatever reason, but also risk our child, or do we cover it up? A cover up that would in effect make us no different from the men who are the architects of what could be the biggest cover up in the history of man. A cover up that risks all of mankind, in essence," I say to her.

"Mulder, don't" she says, putting her hand up and finally making eye contact, "Don't you even start with me. I will not risk losing my son over some whim and fancy of a junior senator."

"*Your* son? How come he always becomes your son when you think he's in danger? You sound like I've orchestrated this whole thing? You think I want the X-Files open that badly?" I ask, realizing too late how stupid that last question is.

"Okay.* Our* son. Does that make the danger involved any less?" she asks.

"No, but I love him just as much as you do. I wouldn't intentionally put his life into danger."

"How about unintentionally? Reopening the X-Files will do just that," she asks me, her voice sharp.

"Scully, this case is not going to lead me back to the X-Files right now. How many times do we have to talk about this? At this point as far as I'm concerned this is a violent crimes case and his mother was murdered back in '77. The only reason you and I are on it is because Senator Erickson got wind that we used to do matches up perfectly with his hobby," I tell her, trying to sound somewhat reassuring.

"I know how hard you worked to get the X-Files up and going. I know how hard you, excuse me, we fought to get them back. I know how easy it would be for you to slip right back into them."

"Will you trust me on this one. The time isn't right and they will still be here when it is right. They aren't going to give them to anyone else. Not after the last fiasco. Besides, this wasn't my idea," I snap at her.

"There are factions who won't care who's idea this is," she says.

"He will be safe,"

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Mulder."

"Let's not fight over this. It has been decided already, and the only way I can think of getting out of it is resigning. We will go do our jobs, like we have always done," I say, looking at the sheet of paper Skinner included with the case file. Diana's number is included on it. A Virginia area code. Her assignment must have ended in Miami and she is now trying to get the X-Files reopened.

Of course, Diana has known about this issue with Erickson longer than the rest of us. I wonder how much she knows and how she became involved with the senator in the first place? I want to talk to the senator before I talk to her again, to see if he mentions her at all

"Well, I'm going to go take care of some things. I'll see you later," Scully says to me, heading towards the door.

"Yeah, see you at home."

**
Chapter Two

The Scully/Mulder Residence
April 10, 2002
5:42 p.m.

I pull into the garage and notice that the baby jogging stroller is gone. This is what Mulder does now when he wants to avoid me. He goes on long runs around the neighborhood with Christopher. I enter the door and disarm the security systems. As I get to the third keypad, I realize that this isn't going to save any of us when the time comes.

I'm so certain that the time will definitely come when we will have to pay some price for all that we know. At one point I believed that we could stop them before they could stop us. Then came Christopher.

Do they sit and gloat about what they managed to 'create?' Are they proud of their work well done? How come they didn't do it earlier, I often wonder. All of this just to blackmail Mulder and me out of the X-Files? Damn them for taking over my life.

I go into the kitchen to start dinner. The scent of pasta sauce fills the air and the water is just beginning to boil when I hear the front door slam.

Mulder walks into the kitchen with Christopher in his arms.

"Hi, sweetheart," I say, "how was your run?"

"It was fine..." Mulder starts to say, mopping his sweaty brow with a towel.

"I was talking to Chris," I say, interrupting him.

"Yeah. That sweetheart part should have given that away," Mulder says, putting Chris down into his playpen.

Mulder stands over the playpen watching Christopher while I continue with dinner. Neither of us says anything to the other for several minutes.

"Listen, we are going to have to keep work and home separate," I say.

"We did it before, when you were first pregnant. I don't know why we can't do it now," Mulder says, walking over to see what I'm cooking.

"It is harder now, Mulder. There is so much more at stake," I say, as I lean against the counter top. I am watching my son pull himself up in his playpen. He giggles as he throws a toy over the top, initiating another round of the 'see if mommy will pick it up' game.

"What are you afraid of?" Mulder asks me.

"I'm afraid that you will get sucked into Senator Erickson's quest for his own truths, that you will make them your own. You can become so blinded by these things, and I don't want to lose you to some hollow cause," I say.

"What if it isn't so hollow? What if this is it, Scully, the proof we have been looking for? Not just enough to prove it to us, but to the whole world? He must know something in order to get it pushed this far?"

"Maybe all he knows is you, Mulder," I say, leaning over to him and brushing back a sweep of hair that fell over his eyes.

I don't want to get in to it with him. Not here. I need a harbor from the storm, and my home has always been that. Of course, I used to be able to leave work at work, but now work lives with me.

"I talked to Mom, your mother that is, and she is willing to stay here while we are gone. She says she won't even leave our little fortress if that will make you feel better," Mulder says.

"There is no perfectly safe place on earth, Mulder. I know that. Every time you go out on a case, something could happen to you. Something could happen to me driving to work. Something did happen to me driving with Christopher in the car. I just don't want to snub our noses intentionally at these people. I don't want to give them what they are looking for," I tell him.

"We aren't going to," he says, walking over to the playpen, picking up all the toys and handing them to Chris so he could start his game over again. Mulder barely turns around before he gets hit with a toy cell phone on the back of his legs.

"Here, Chris, you don't want to lose this. The kid's going to be a major league pitcher before he's out of diapers," Mulder says, rubbing one leg after handing back to Christopher the plastic phone.

"Damn!" I say, turning back to the stove.

"What did I do now?"

"You didn't do anything. I burned the sauce." I say, taking it off of the burner.

"Pizza again?"

"Pizza again."

**
Chapter 3

Senate Executive Offices
Washington, DC

April 11, 2002

10:30 a.m.

"Senator Erickson will see you now," a secretary tells Scully and me as she shows us into his office.

"Good morning, Agents Mulder and Scully," the senator says to us, shaking both of our hands brusquely, "I'm so pleased you could be here today."

"Thank you for the invitation. We are happy to be here," Scully says to him, as he directs us to sit down in the chairs in front of his big oak desk. She can still lie when need be.

"So, I understand you will working on the investigation into my mother's disappearance?" he asks.

He is smooth. I already know he requested us. I tried to contact him for a month, but was always given the brush off. He wants to be in control. He needs to think this is all his idea.

"Yes, sir. I just received the case file yesterday, and we would like for you to fill us in what you remember happening."

He leans back in his chair, looking contemplative. He stays still for half a minute before finally looking at us.

"Do you believe in weather control, Agent Mulder?" he asks me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Scully turn her head to the side, away from the senator. I do not break eye contact with him.

"No, sir. In my experience, I have not come across any proof that anybody can control the weather."

"Agent Scully?" he asks.

"I concur with Agent Mulder. There is no evidence supporting claims that any government can control the weather on a large enough scale for it to matter," she says, looking at him again.

Well, we have gotten somewhere in ten years. Dana Scully just said she concurs with me without even having to think about it. Too bad it has to be over something as ridiculous as weather control.

The senator leans back once again, and puts his arms behind his head, locking his hands together.

"In 1998, NASA pulled off a huge publicity stunt, I'm sure you recall," he says.

Scully and I say nothing back, allowing him to continue.

"Senator John Glenn's return to space. It was big, if I remember correctly. Press from around the world was descending upon Cape Canaveral. Unfortunately, there was this huge hurricane heading into the Gulf region at the same time."

I can sense what Scully must be thinking right now. We have seen a lot in our ten years together, but she is still the ultimate skeptic.

"Somehow, that hurricane was stalled over Central America for several days, allowing the Space Shuttle Discovery to take off without a single weather hitch," he says, as if he is a school boy making some amazing discovery.

"I think it was purely coincidental. If I remember correctly, sir, that hurricane nearly wiped out several Central American nations, caused billions in damage and killed thousands of people. Yet, you think our government did that intentionally so one senator could go into space?" Scully asks him. The cynicism rises in her voice with every word she utters.

"You would be surprised to know what our government does," he says.

"Sir, your mother..." I start to say, wanting to get to the point here.

"Do you know who killed John F. Kennedy?" he asks.

Good God, I think. Does this man dabble in everything? Really, the Gunmen should be here bantering about this crap. They could match him point for point on all of this.

"Lee Harvey Oswald," Scully says.

"Right," he says, laughing boisterously.

"Okay. Who did kill JFK?" I ask, playing along.

"NASA again," he says, " because he was going to announce the true source of our newly founded space science data."

"UFO technology?" I ask, knowing exactly where this is heading.

"Exactly. NASA was embarrassed. They had all these scientists working for damn near impossible goals, and the president was not going to give them the credit."

"Sir..." Scully says, trying to politely interrupt.

"You don't even want to know about the Challenger accident!" he says, nearly laughing.

"Sir, about your mother?" Scully says in an attempt to get this whole fiasco back on track.

He sits bolt upright in his chair and looks straight at her.

"You are going to tell me that my mother was kidnapped by one Ronald Mulch in June of 1977. You will tell me that he dumped her mutilated body in the desert, where her decomposing corpse was ravaged by local scavenging fauna and what exactly happened to what was ever left of her body will never be known."

Scully and I both look at him. He nailed it on the head there. That is exactly what we planned on saying.

"Senator Erickson, all the evidence points in that direction..."

"Save me the rhetoric, Agent Scully. I've heard it. Now are you going to listen to my story?" he says, his eyes flaring.

"Go ahead," I say.

"In 1977, I was a seventeen year old kid who hated being with his parents. I'm sure you can sympathize, Agent Mulder?"

I just nod my head. This man is just one year older than I am, yet he is a senator. I'm not sure of the driving force yet. Ambition or lunacy.

"Anyway, in June of that year, my parents decided we needed to go on a family camping trip. I hated the idea. I had a new girlfriend and would rather spend time with her, but I wasn't given much of a choice.
The second night we were out at the campsite, my sister and I decided to go out for a late night walk. According to my father, my mother got worried, and sent him after us. When we returned, she was gone," he says.

"Do you recall any lights? Any missing periods of time?" I ask, glossing through my basic abduction questions, and knowing fully that if this woman was abducted twenty-five years ago, chances are she's never coming back.

"All I remember was our camper was incredibly hot when I grabbed the door handle. I could tell something was wrong, because the generator we had was out when we all got back. I ran ahead and grabbed the door and..."

He holds up his left hand, showing old scar tissue from a burn, saying "I just know that Mulch didn't do this."

Scully has yet to ask anything. I'm so sure she is dreading where this is going. I know she believes so much more than she did a decade ago, but she certainly doesn't want to believe this time. Since Christopher
was born, she acts as if she wishes she could just forget everything we have learned. I guess Scully just wants the world to be perfect for him.

"Sir, we are going to do our best to get this resolved," Scully says again to him.

"I know you are, because I know something about this government that you don't. I know exactly how high this whole fiasco goes, and I have this," he says, pulling out a tiny vial and setting it before us as if he was taunting us with treasures untold.

I want to reach for it, but he folds it back into his hand. So many years we have searched for this, been so close so many times, and never quite grasped it.

"Let's talk about the possibility of weather control again," he says, his voice expressing the slight happiness brought about by the control he now thinks he has over us, "Just so we are clear in what we believe here."

"Sir?" I say.

"What do you know about Hurricane Chris?"

Scully and I both fall still and silent.

"In October 2001, two FBI agents trapped in a hurricane in backwater Louisiana, play out their assigned roles beautifully. Nine months later, they have a child. They give up everything they have worked for, fought for, really, and become the perfect dutiful parents; nurturing and protecting that child. A child, who was created for a distinct purpose. And that is weather control, folks."

"Excuse me, sir," Scully says, as she gets up from her chair and leaves the room

"Think about it, Agent Mulder. How did you get stuck in a storm that was supposed to strike Southern Florida? And where was Agent Scully during that missing time? Why was it so important that you and Agent Scully have a baby together? Someone knows the answers. Just like someone knows what is in that vial and where to get more."

"Senator Erickson, I will be leaving for New Mexico on Monday. Agent Diana Fowley will be part of the team working on this investigation. I'm sure you are aquatinted with her?" I ask.

"No. I can't say that I am," he says to me with one hell of a poker face. That's the problem with dealing with politicians. You can't tell when they are lying.

"I will fill you in with what we find when we get back, sir," I say as I stand up.

"Thank you, Agent Mulder," he says as I walk out the door.

A nearby parking garage
April 11, 2002
11:17 a.m.

"Scully! Wait up, will you?" I say, chasing after her as quickly as I can without looking like I'm accosting this petite woman who is trying desperately to get away from me.

She turns around to look at me and her eyes are filled with fire.

"What, Mulder? Do you want to discuss weather control a little more? Or perhaps it's time I finally got to hear your real theories on the assassination of Kennedy?" she asks me, her voice rising with every word.

"Those things are inconsequential. He has it, Scully. He has the vaccine. If we do this right, we can have it in our hands," I tell her.

"At what price? What should we do? Just say his mother was abducted by aliens so we can have what he has in that vial? How do you even know it is the vaccine?" she asks, "And if it is the vaccine, who gave it to him? Did you wonder that? Who is playing us, Mulder?"

"Scully, this is the closest we have come in years. We have to trust him," I say to her.

"Trust him? Why? Because he knew some things from our personal life that most anybody could deduce with a little logic? Because he has a little vial of something? Why, Mulder? Why should I trust in someone who believes in the things he believes in?"

"You believe in me, don't you?" I ask her, hurt by what she is implying.

"Oh, fuck you," she says to me for the first time ever in our platonic and not so platonic relationship.

"Scully..." I say to her, wanting to explain to her how important this case could be.

"I'll see you later, Mulder," Scully says, as she gets into her Ford Expedition and slams the door. I step back quickly, trying to avoid becoming road kill.

I stand there staring as the back of her car disappears from my view.

"How was your meeting with the senator, Agent Mulder?" a voice says behind me, causing me to jump.

I turn around to find a man about my age and build standing not even a yard away from me.

"Who are you?" I ask him.

He is dressed nearly identical to me, except he obviously has more money that I do. He has on your basic D.C. power suit, perfect for early morning cabinet meetings on the Hill. He actually almost looks like me, except his eyes are a startling shade of blue.

"I'm a friend of the senator's. I'm your friend, too," he says, as he leans up against a pole in the parking garage.

"I have very few friends, Mister... what should I call you,... friend?" I say to him

"Names are not important, but from what I understand, Agent Mulder, most of your 'friends' die untimely deaths. This is a dangerous business, being a friend of yours."

"You befriended me. It's your choice," I say.

"What about Agent Scully? Is this her choice, too? Did she chose to live her life this way with you, or were her choices made for her?"

"Agent Scully is responsible for what she does and with whom she does it," I tell him, thinking I should walk away from this now.

A car comes around the corner and he moves to the other side of the pole, hiding in the shadows until the car and driver are gone. I've played this game too many times before. I stand still. It's not my problem if someone sees us.

"Remember that night in Louisiana, Agent Mulder?. It could have been anybody. She could have gone to anybody they chose. It could have even been...me, but it had to be you. That is really how the plan was designed. That was why they made the hurricane. It didn't give her much of an opportunity to look past you. They dealt you the right cards that night..."

This incessant invasion of mine and Scully's privacy was starting to piss me off. "You can't deal me the aces and expect me not to play..." I say, wondering how the hell everyone knew Scully and I had made love that night. I half expect him to present me a video copy to add to my collection.

"Exactly. You were the man for the job. It had nothing to do with how she felt about you. She didn't need to love you, Agent Mulder. Not that anything like love matters to these men. They had their reasons for needing it to be you."

"Like?" I ask, petulantly shoving my hands into my pockets.

"The chance she would keep the child were much greater if it was your child. She knew you. She trusts you."

"How did they know I would be a fulfill my part in this?" I ask.

"They knew that you would probably have a certain fondness for any child she had, no matter who the father was, because of your attachment to her. But your own biological son, Agent Mulder? There is
no other feeling quite like it. It had to be you."

"Why are you telling me this? What do you want from me?"

"I'm simply imploring that you make sure this goes well. The Senator picked you for this investigation for a reason. Your tenacity, your obsessive need to find proof assuage the Senator's fear of a cover up. However, there are people who would stop at nothing to quash this investigation. But they aren't going to destroy their favorite little creation. Not yet, anyway. He's too important to them," he says to me, "Just make sure it runs smoothly, Agent Mulder."

"And what would running a smooth investigation for the senator entail, exactly?" I ask.

"Do what you always do. Make sure no one tampers with the evidence. You will win the prize at the end of the game."

He turns and starts to walk away from me.

"Most of my real friends tell me something useful," I call after him.

"Later, Agent Mulder. I will be speaking with you again soon," he says, as he disappears between the cars and into the shadows.

**
Chapter Four

FBI National Academy Parking Lot
Quantico, Virginia
April 11, 2002
1:30 p.m.

I pull into a parking space, put my car in park and just sit there. This whole thing is a mess. More damn conspiracies surrounding us, preventing us from having any sense of a normal life. Why would I think I deserve a normal life now, anyway?

I reach for my cell phone and leave a message for Mulder letting him know I'll be home late. Then I call my mom at my house.

"Hi, Mom. It's me."

"Hi, Dana. What's wrong?" she asks. I can hear Christopher crying in the background.

"Nothing's wrong. What's wrong there?" I ask.

"Oh, nothing more than the norm. It's nap time and he's being cranky. I think he's teething and it's really bothering him."

"The Tylenol is in the bathroom cabinet. Give him one dropper full. That should help," I say.

"Dana, you don't sound good. Is there anything I should know about?"

"No, I'm fine. I just wanted to let you know that I would be late tonight. I left a message for Mulder, so hopefully he will show up at home on time. I've got to get some things done before we leave town next week," I say.

"It's this case Fox told me about, isn't it? That's what's bothering you?"

"I just don't want to be away from Christopher for that long. It's the first time I will be away from him overnight," I half lie.

"He'll be okay. I promise. I better go attend to him. I will talk to you later, Dana."

"Okay. Bye, Mom," I say as I click the phone off.

I grab some paperwork I have on the passenger seat, climb out of my 'tank' as Mulder likes to call it, and start walking across the parking lot.

"Agent Scully, how are you?" someone asks from behind me. I was so deep in thought, I never heard anyone approach me. When did become so comfortable with life that I lost my paranoia?

I turn around to see our smoking friend walking behind me. I freeze in my tracks and he stops a few feet away from me and lights up a cigarette.

"What do you want?" I ask.

"Nice to see you again, Agent Scully. I'm just concerned. Be careful out in New Mexico. You've not been a field agent in over a year. You might be a little out of practice for such an important assignment. One careless misstep could have life-altering effects," he says to me, flicking an ash off his cigarette.

"Are you threatening me?"

"No, not at all. I'm just concerned that living in a suburban fishbowl may have distorted your views of the world. You have always been so skeptical, always comfortable with the status quo. Has shacking up with Agent Mulder clouded your judgement? Are you more likely too acquiesce to his lunacy? Does he constantly fill you with fantastic stories of government conspiracies?"

"Get to the point. I'm very busy! Just tell me specifically to which government conspiracy are you referring?" I snap, nervously shifting papers from one arm to the other.

"Weather control."

"There is no conspiracy behind weather control," I say.

"Where did you go that night when you were called out of the hotel room? Have you thought about that?" he asks me.

I turn my head away from him. Of course I've thought about this. He surely knows this, and doesn't have to tease me with the questions he probably knows the answers to.

"More importantly, what if Agent Mulder wasn't there? Did you ever think that it didn't necessarily have to be him? You weren't in love with him, were you? Not that love matters in our nasty little world, does it, Agent Scully? I could have been anybody...but Mulder was there. So convenient for you. The one time the man actually might have come in handy."

"I'm sorry. I have to go," I tell him, as I start to walk away. I do not have to listen to this. Even if it didn't happen because of love, I'm glad it did happen. I love him now. I loved him even then. I do not need this man casting shadowy doubts on what I feel towards my son's father.

"Just be careful in New Mexico, Agent Scully. It is much harder now. There is so much more at stake" he calls after me.

I stoically fight back the tears welling up in my eyes. In only two days, this game has grown into something far more diabolical than a simple twenty-five year old murder mystery.

**

The Scully/Mulder Residence
April 11, 2002
9:37 p.m.

The house is completely dark downstairs when I enter. The only light Mulder left on for me is the one over the stairs.

I check Christopher's room and find him sleeping peacefully in his crib. I kiss my fingertips and place them on his cheek, irritated that I missed putting him to bed by half an hour. It is the one ritual I most love taking part in during his day.

"Goodnight, angel," I whisper before turning away from him.

I leave his room quietly, clicking the door shut behind me.

Mulder must me in his study. I can hear the TV on in there and there is a little strip of light shining out from under the door. I knock, not wanting to barge in on him. God only knows what he might be watching on television.

"Mulder?" I ask as I knock again.

"Come in," he says in a husky, sleep-filled voice.

He is on lying on his couch, covered up in a blanket. It looks like he has every intention of spending the night in this room, and not in ours. He has done this before, usually because he can't sleep and doesn't want to disturb me.

Most everything in this room is his, except for my books and journals on the shelves lining the walls. The room looks like a re-creation of his apartment living room, right down to the empty fish tank glowing in the corner.

"Hi," I say, "I didn't mean to wake you."

"That's okay. Come sit down," he says to me, as he sits up and slides down to one side of the couch.

"Did he go to bed okay?" I ask.

"Yeah. He was a little cranky, so I gave him some Tylenol. He didn't want to eat much, but he went right to sleep. I think he will be okay next week when we are gone."

"Are you studying up on Senator Skywalker?" I ask, noticing he has 'Star Wars' playing on the DVD.

"1977 was a long time ago, Scully. That is a very long time not to let someone go, not to believe they can really be gone." he says to me, sighing.

"Are you feeling sympathy pains for the senator?" I ask. We had discussed this already. This case hits so close to home for Mulder. Even though he has the answers, it still hurts him and it is a pain that even I can't make go away.

"I know how he feels. I hate to tell him that knowing isn't going to make the pain go away. It didn't help me. It won't help him. She will still be gone, will have still missed the last twenty-five years of his life."

I sit and watch the movie for a few minutes, trying to remember how old I was the first time I saw it.

"Mulder, I was only thirteen the first time I saw this movie. This life I have now wasn't exactly what I had planned way back in my early adolescent mind."

He pulls me closer to him and puts the blanket over my lap.

"I'm sorry," is all he says.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, Mulder. I'm not saying this isn't the life I want to be leading. I love my job.... sometimes. I love Christopher all the time. And I love you."

"I was sixteen when I first saw this movie. I went with Karen Russell. We didn't see much of the movie..."

"Oh, really? Do tell, Agent Mulder. I want to know all your secrets," I say to him, laughing for the first time during this miserable day.

"No you don't."

"Yes, I do. You know, you never told me about your first time. In all these years, it never came up," I say to him.

"What is there to tell? I was sixteen. She was also sixteen, I think. It lasted all of two minutes."

"Not much different than now..."

"Scully!" he says, as he playfully pushes me down on to the couch, "Now it's your turn. Tell me all the juicy details."

"I don't want to talk about it," I say as I sit up and snuggle next to him.

"Why? Is it scandalous? It wasn't with a first cousin or something like that?"

"No! It's just not worth talking about."

"I told you my story."

"You told me nothing. You were sixteen. It lasted two minutes. Sixteen? Mulder, I would have guessed you were younger than that..."

"Nope. Sorry to disappoint you. I couldn't convince anyone to join me before that, though it wasn't for the lack of trying. Now you tell me."

"I was eighteen and a freshman in college. I figured it was about time, so..."

"I can hear Billy Joel singing, Scully. 'Come out Virginia, don't let me wait, You Catholic girls start much too late, but sooner or later it comes down to fate, I might as well be the one...'"

"Mulder, there was a time when I really did intend to wait until I got married, until I met the right man..."

"'You got a nice white dress and a party on your confirmation,'" he continues, softly singing to me, "'You got a brand new soul and a cross of gold'...really, you were going to wait until you got married, but now you won't even marry me? Am I not the right man?"

I don't say anything to him for a few minutes, instead I watch as the Rebel Alliance tries to defeat the evil Empire once again.

"Mulder, cancer man was waiting for me in the parking lot at Quantico today."

"What?" he asks, pulling me in such way that I'm facing him.

"He warned me to be careful in New Mexico. He also mentioned what seems to be the catch phrase of the day. Weather control," I say to Mulder, not wanting to go into some of the other things I was told. I can't tell him I was informed the only reason we made love that night was because he was *there.*

"I can't believe he's accosting you now. Lately it's been me he likes to hunt down in parking lots. Scully, I had a visitor in the parking garage after you said 'fuck you' and tried to run me down with that tank of yours..."

"I didn't try to run you down and I'm sorry for saying that. Who was he?" I ask.

"You did try to run me down. Anyway, he says he's our 'friend' and that we should find what the senator wants us to find. It's strange. He also says that Christopher isn't in any danger. That they need for him to stay alive," Mulder says.

"Is that all he told you?" I ask, surprised at what he saying. Most everyone else who has ever hunted down Mulder in a parking garage lately has threatened our son. My mind starts trying to assimilate this new knowledge. If they want him to stay alive, there must be a reason.

Mulder doesn't say anything to me for more than a minute. I can tell he's trying to figure out how he is going to word his next question.

"Scully, when we made love for the first time, did you have any feelings for me, or was I just the only other person in the room?"

I don't know how to answer. I loved him even then, but not any romantic hearts and flowers kind of love. It was a love built simply on trust and respect, but love even so. Maybe that is all any of us can ever ask for.

"Why?" I ask him, instead of trying to answer the question. I don't want that cigarette smoking bastard to be right about this, that I might have 'used' Mulder that night and not even know it.

"Just something this person told me today. I was just wondering if the only reason you are still with me is Christopher?" he asks.

I look at him, and he looks sad, as if someone broke his heart today.

"Mulder, I have loved you for a long time. Longer than that first night together. I just didn't ever imagine us like this, a couple, sitting in *our* house with *our* son. It is so hard to explain. We have come a long way together. We have lived lives others can't even begin to imagine and we were put together by forces beyond our control. Sometimes it feels like an arranged marriage," I tell him, pulling him close to me and kissing his forehead.

"I know it was arranged, Scully. I just don't know the reasons why yet," he says.

"All the reasons don't matter and they won't change how I feel about you right now, today. Not a year ago or ten years ago. It doesn't matter how we got to this point, Mulder. What matters is that we are at this point. We have got to make it work, for Christopher. For us."

"You know, Scully, it's been years since I made love to my favorite girl while 'Star Wars' was playing."

"You want me to call Karen Russell and see what she's doing?" I say to him.

"She's not my favorite anymore..." he says to me as he pulls me much closer to him.

**
Epilogue

New York City
April 13, 2002
9:45 p.m.

"There is someone feeding the senator information," a man says in a smooth, deep voice.

"That much we know is true. We can't verify if any of the information is of any value to him."

"Someone was talking to Mulder. If Mulder finds out about his son, all our planning is for nothing," another man hisses.

"Mulder won't ever figure it out. You give him too much credit," a man says as he lights a cigarette, "He's too busy philosophizing about *his* place in the subterfuge."

"Did you speak to Agent Scully?"

"Yes. Yes, I did. After ten years one would think that woman would believe in something that can't be scientifically categorized, especially after Christopher."

"Do you think she will ever put two and two together?"

"I think she believes Christopher is simply here to make Mulder jump through the right hoops. Which is an added benefit, though not part of the design," the smoking man says.

"She is a doctor. She might figure it out."

"Christopher Scully is nothing more than her son."

"What about the senator? Is he still a problem?"

"They will be going to New Mexico on Monday. I will take care of everything. Now, if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I have a plane to catch," he says, dropping ashes on the carpet as he leaves the room.

The end