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Title: Karmic II: Reunion Summary: Follow-up to "Karmic." A time for everything and everything in its time. Author's Note: You need to read the first part, "Karmic," to understand this... it is a follow-up, after all. Dedication: For Jez-- the insane shipper! I promise I won't turn into a dipper! ;) Sometimes I feel so happy --from REM's "Pale Blue Eyes" "Dana, are you going to be okay?" The blue-eyed man asked, still cradling the petite redhead in his arms. She just nodded mutely, unable to find the right words, any words, for this moment. Any hope that she had had, the flame that she had just kept burning, was now extinguished. Dana Scully was out of hope, out of love, out of life, and that had to be the worst feeling... ever. No wait, it wasn't a feeling, because she wasn't sure she knew how to feel anymore... Without him. Without Mulder. Things would never be the same-- never. Never, ever, ever again. That thought terrified her, terrified her more than a child's worst nightmare of the unknown that is under the bed, just waiting to venture out of the darkness when the lights go out. "Dana, I... uh... want me to drive you home?" John Doggett finally spoke, at a loss for words himself. He knew that Mulder and Scully had a very deep, indefinable relationship that no one dared touch: the kind of relationship that you were lucky to find in one's lifetime, extremely lucky, actually... perhaps the relationship that he was sometimes bitter that he had never had, the relationship that he longed for. "That's, uh, very nice of you to offer, Agent Doggett... but I can find my own way home," Scully replied, wiping a tear away from her eye. "No really, Dana, you'd better let me, I don't want you driving in the state you're in..." "'The state I'm in', Agent Doggett... let me tell you that I have no earthly idea what you're referring to, as I'm perfectly *fine*," Dana retorted, standing up and looking at the limo... her Mulder's limo. Her now lifeless Mulder. Her dead Mulder. Her *dead* Mulder. As a scientist, the word seemed so final. As a Catholic, the word seemed to hold a hint of something more, a hint of promise. She hoped, she *prayed*, that everything she'd been taught as a Catholic was right, was valid, that Mulder wasn't dead, that this wasn't his end, that this wasn't their end, that he was off in a better place somewhere, that they'd meet again one day, that they'd be reunited and live forever in peace... "Mulder!" she screamed into the silent, unforgiving night. Dana Scully awoke with a start to the oddly comforting cry of her son, William. When she sat up, she realized that she was shaking. Mulder... Mulder, where was he? Not there, she remembered. Mulder was off in hiding because of the threats that they had received, off in a safe place... at least she hoped. That dream... well, rather nightmare... had seemed so real, so horrific, so vivid... Her fears got the best of her. Even though she knew that Mulder was probably okay, she wasn't going to be able to rest until she was sure, absolutely positive. Dana sat up and walked over to William's bassinet and picked him up, cradling him back and forth in her eyes. "Shhhh..," she whispered to the fussy baby in an effort to calm him down. "Shhhh, it's all okay..." she continued, even though she wasn't so sure of that herself. William began to cry harder, his little nose wrinkling as he did so. Scully continued to rock him, holding him close. "Hush little baby, don't say a word..." she sang softly, more of a whisper than anything. The child didn't quiet down, not a bit. Dana bit her lower lip in frustration, looking down into her child's face. Her child... her child, and Mulder's child. Their child. A child conceived as a hope, as a mere dream at first, now brought into reality. She could hardly believe it, but every time she looked at William, the reality stared right back up at her. She just wished that the reality of it wouldn't have come with such a consequence, that she wouldn't have had to give up the person she loved most, the only person she could trust, her perfect opposite, her perfect other, for the dream that she'd longed for for so long now, for her son, for William. It didn't seem fair, having to give up the one thing she loved most for her son... but then again, life is never fair. At a Motel Six in God-knows-where, Agent Fox Mulder sat staring out the window at the unforgiving, cruel night sky. He clutched a small, wallet-sized photograph tightly: his only link to the outside world, his only link back to what was *real*. Nothing seemed real anymore, it all seemed like some nightmarish hell that he'd wake up from any minute, and everything would be back to normal. Oh, how he wished it was just a nightmare. To hell with his life lately, what was it worth anymore? Not much. He'd rather die a thousand deaths than live like this. Mulder brought his tired, worn gaze down to the wallet-size of a tiny baby held by a petite redhead, her blue eyes sparkling as she gazed up at the camera, a smile on her face. Scully had resized the picture he'd taken before he'd had to leave, made doubles, and sent them out to all of her friends and family. Scully. His Scully. And William. His William. His son. It hurt more than anything to know that he couldn't be with them. He knew it was for the best, that it was for the safety of them all, that it really *had* to be like this, but it never seemed like the best. The immense loneliness, the emptiness, that he felt, was enough to make a sane man go mad. There was nothing, nothing, more that he wanted, than to hold his son in his lap and rock him back and forth, sing him a lullaby, and to hear Scully tell him that one of his theories was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard again. Those... those were the days. The days he now realized that he'd taken for granted, practically thrown out the window, for godforsaken sakes! He longed for things to just... be the way they used to be, for a return of yesterday. Tomorrow held nothing more than any of this lonely lonesomeness, than this empty agony, than this seemingly never ending torture that he wasn't sure how much longer he could endure. He was still staring down at the picture. Down into her blue eyes, pools of blue, pools of promise, the windows to her soul. Mulder knew loss, he knew sadness, he knew depression, he knew... just about everything. But now, happiness seemed a stranger in a strange land. Mulder picked up a gun: his gun. He felt the smooth barrel against his head, and the feeling was almost soothing, and then... Dana Scully picked up the phone and dialed Mulder's number. She knew she wasn't supposed to contact him unless it was an emergency, but she had the unnerving feeling, a feeling she was unable to shake, that something was wrong. She wasn't sure what it was, but she was sure that *something* was wrong. It rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Please answer, Dana prayed silently. And her prayers were answered. Shortly after the fourth ring, the sound of Mulder's voice flowed from the receiver. "Who is it?" The voice asked grudgingly, tiredly, hopelessly. "Mulder, it's me.," Scully said quietly, feeling tears well up in her eyes. One of these days, she'd call and he wouldn't remember her. They seemed to be drifting farther and farther apart, and there was nothing she could do about it. "Dana?" Mulder asked, standing up and placing the gun on the mantle, focusing his concentration on Scully on the other end of the line. "Is everything okay?" "I, uh... I..." Scully started, at a loss of words for a second, because she felt petty for calling, like she shouldn't have called because she didn't really have a reason. "I'm not sure. That's why I called you." "How do you mean?" "I had a dream..." "Must be nice. I haven't been sleeping," Mulder cut in. "A nightmare," Scully corrected herself. "Need to talk about it?" "Well, it was about you, you died..." Mulder looked at the gun on the mantle, the gun which he had come so close to... to what? Killing himself with? Mulder knew killing himself wasn't the way out, that it wasn't the answer. It would make things worse for Scully and his son, make things worse for *him*. What kind of person was he, to even consider that? He couldn't do that to them. There was no way... no way in hell. "You still there, Mulder?" Scully asked, wondering why he had grown so eerily silent all of the sudden. "Yeah... yeah I'm still here, but I wish I wasn't," he replied. "Mulder, I don't want you thinking like that..." "No, I just wish I was with you, with you and him... you have no idea how much this is hurting me." "It's hurting me too, Mulder," Scully said, swallowing back a lump in her throat. She couldn't show weakness, wouldn't let herself show weakness. As much as she missed him, as much as she needed him, she was not weak. She was an independent woman who was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. "You know we've let them win, don't you?" Mulder asked, his tone empty, emotionless. "By letting them split us up like this, they've won..." "They haven't won, Mulder. We're still here, we're still united in some way, we still... we're still just as close as we ever were." "Don't fool yourself, Scully." Fool yourself-- don't fool yourself, Scully, he'd said. The words cut at her like a knife. Don't fool yourself, don't lie to yourself, they have won, and you know it. They've weakened us, they've broken us, they've made us desperate, lovesick fools, and we can't live with or without each other because of them. "Mulder, I, ah..." Scully paused. "I miss you, and so does William." "I miss you guys, too," he said softly, staring at the receiver. Pause. Silence. Both of them were lost in their own dreams of what might have been, and the bitter reality of what was. "Mulder... I... I know it's not safe, I know it's probably not the best, but I want... I need... you to come back." "Agent Reyes," Scully acknowledged the dark-haired agent as she walked into the office the next morning, carrying her son William. Reyes looked up at her, a little shocked to see her carrying her son into the office. "Dana... anything I can do for you this morning?" she asked. "I need you to, um..." Scully paused, looking down at her son. "I need you to watch William today," she said, looking back up to meet Reyes' eyes. "Watch William?" Reyes asked, a little surprised at Scully's request. "Yes-- if you can. There's no one else I'd trust to do the job, and I'm afraid I have a commitment that I can't cancel..." Monica looked up to meet Scully's eyes, seeing that the desperation in them was obvious: Monica couldn't deny this simple, pleading request. "Yeah, I'll do it," she said finally, managing a small smile at Scully. "I haven't um, babysat for awhile, but if you want me to do it, I can..." "You'll do fine," Scully said with a nervous smile, stepping forward to Monica and handing her the small, bundled up baby that was William. "I'll do my best," Monica said with a smile. "Here's his bottle, it's in the side of his bag.," Scully said, setting down a diaper bag by the desk, and pulling out her keys, getting ready to leave. "Alrighty," Monica said, smiling down at the baby. "You comfortable with this, Monica?" "Of course," Monica replied, self-reassuringly. "Okay," Scully replied with a small smile-- her first smile in what seemed like ages. Monica smiled back, and Scully turned back around toward the door and opened it once again. Just as she was about to walk down the hall, she turned back around to face William and Monica. "Monica..." Scully started. "Thank you." Scully walked back into the room and leaned down and gave William a kiss, and then patted Monica's arm reassuringly, for the reassurance of both Monica and herself. "Agent Reyes, take good care of him, okay?" "I will," Monica vowed sincerely, smiling earnestly at Scully. "I know you will," Scully said. "You don't have to worry--" Monica started. "I don't. There's no one I'd trust more." "Well I'm glad you feel you can trust me, Dana." "Of course," Scully said with another small smile, turning around again and leaving the room this time. Monica watched after her, wondering where she was going, but knowing that it wasn't for her to know. Dana Scully wandered up and down the area beside the tracks at the train station, waiting for the noon train from San Francisco to come in-- the train that was supposed to be carrying Mulder. Her anxiety was growing by the moment-- she just wanted to see him, she *needed* to see him, more than anything. She looked down at her watch. Quarter till noon. Shit, could this time be passing any more slowly? Every minute seemed like an hour, and her anxiety to see Mulder-- safe-- was growing with each instant. Scully was armed, she'd been sure to tote along her Smith and Wesson, in case it absolutely came to that, because she knew the people that they were dealing with meant business, and that breaking their rules could prove fatally dangerous. She checked her watch again, not even a full minute later. She didn't realize that she'd begun to tap her foot impatiently, and she didn't notice the man in the black trench coat on the bench smoking a cigarette and watching her. If she would've, she would have called Mulder on his cell phone and told him to make sure that the train didn't stop. Scully kept her intent gaze fixed on the train tracks, silently counting the minutes away to herself. She'd never felt anxiety like she did in those moments, never known what it felt like to want to see someone as much as she wanted to see Mulder at that moment. When she lost track of the minutes, she snuck a glance back down at her watch: three minutes and counting... "Monica, what are you doing with a baby?" John Doggett asked as he walked back into the X-Files office, cup of coffee in hand. "Oh, just some babysitting," she replied. "Babysittin' on the job?" "Agent Scully asked me to," she retorted. "Oh well, in that case, I guess it's alright..." "Of course it is." "Whaddaya mean by that?" "Agent Scully this, Agent Scully that... as long as it's for her, it's alright, isn't that right, John?" Doggett gave Reyes a confused glance, unsure how to interpret and react to her outburst. "John, it's no secret," Monica said, interrupting his thoughts. "You like her." "Like her?" John asked in disbelief. "I have *no* idea what you're talking about, Mon..." "You don't have to deny it," she said, looking down at the baby. "Monica, don't be ridiculous, she's my partner-" "Was your partner," Monica corrected him. "Yeah? So?" "Are you sayin' I *like* her, as in... have some sort of feelings for her?" "That's what I'm saying," Monica said. There was a brief, extremely uncomfortable silence between the two of them. John didn't really know how to respond, let alone want to, so he just kind of let the silence set in for those few moments. "You of all people, Monica, know that you can't help who you have feelings for..." "What are you saying, John?" "I don't know what I'm saying, Monica.," he said, burying his face in his hands and pinching the bridge of his nose-- a bad habit that tended to find its way out when he was nervous about something. "Why don't you just admit it? It's not like I care," Monica said, not realizing how harshly what she just said could be interpreted. It's not like she cared... John let those words sink into his mind, and they hurt. "Then why do you care if you don't care?" He suddenly snapped. "I... I do care," Monica momentarily stuttered, a little surprised by his outburst. "You said you didn't." "Well, I do." Another pause. The empty, emotionless, questioning silence that the two of them had grown so used to over the years. "Monica, I... I just wanted to help them, protect her, protect William, she's all alone, she doesn't have anybody else..." The train from San Francisco was now three minutes late, which wasn't unusual. Trains ran late all the time, and Scully had to keep reminding herself of that to reassure herself that everything would be okay, that Mulder was safe, and he'd be in her arms soon, and everything would be just as it used to. She found herself pacing the waiting area in front of the train tracks, her anxiety increasing even more. Sure, it was just a little delay, but she didn't want to wait. She wanted Mulder to be there, she needed Mulder to be there, and that need was increasing as every second passed. Hearing his voice had provided her a great deal of reassurance, but seeing him... seeing him would do much more. She needed to see him, to touch him, to feel him in her arms to be assured that she hadn't imagined their whole phone conversation, that she wasn't creating some fantasy in her need, some fantasy to try to quench her unquenchable, never ending thirst. She had stopped pacing, but found herself pacing again when the loud, overpowering whistle of the approaching train stopped her dead in her tracks: Mulder. Mulder was on that train. Mulder would be in her arms in a matter of seconds now, and everything would be well. The train pulled up to its stopping point, and came to a halt, the engine letting out a loud groan as it did so. Scully took a deep breath and smiled a smile of anxiety as the door slid open and passengers started to pile off of the train... Waiting for Mulder. Her Mulder. All of the crowd seemed to pass by in a blur: businessmen and businesswomen, families and their children, and then... Him. Mulder. Scully broke into a huge smile as she ran toward him, and then the man in the black trench coat who had seemingly been minding his own business reached into his coat, pulled his Sig Sauer out, and took aim at Mulder... The sound of gunfire rang through the air, and the calm atmosphere was pierced by screams. Mulder had reached for Scully and had been ready to kiss her when he suddenly ducked, and she jumped in front of him... that was the last thing she knew before she felt the cold, hard hunk of lead hit her in the shoulder, and then she fell down. Everything went black. Monica's eyes were pained as she looked back at John. "I know, but she doesn't need anybody else, Dana's strong, and she's... she's waiting." "For what? A sign?" John asked bitterly. "No. For him." "What does he have that I don't?" Doggett asked, looking at Monica and William. "Nothing." "Then why..." Doggett asked again, his voice trailing off. "Her heart-- it belongs to him, it has for several years. And maybe someone else's heart belongs to you, and you just haven't seen it yet." John eyes Monica curiously, trying to dissect what she was getting at. She wasn't normally one to beat around the bush, but she was clearly concealing something. "What do you know that I don't?" Doggett finally asked. "It has to do with karma. Things turn out the way they do for a reason. You just watch, wait and see, and everything will go as it's supposed to..." William suddenly started crying, and a foul smell filled the air. "Oops, somebody's got a dirty diaper..." Monica said. John watched her as she knelt down and spread out the diaper changing pad and got out the diaper wipes and diaper. "Ya know what you're doin', Monica?" "Of course I do," she replied as she took William's dirty diaper off and changed it into a new one, throwing the old one toward the office garbage can and making her shot. "Monica, but whatever karma has to do with this, whatever it means, however it 'marks' me for what's meant to happen to me..." Monica stood up, rocking William back and forth in her arms, smiling down at him. "I love her. I love Dana." Mulder and William went to visit Scully at the hospital two days later. She was doing better, very well actually, but her doctors had thought it best to keep her in the hospital for at least awhile longer. The black trench coat man had not been apprehended, but Mulder and Scully hadn't had anymore trouble, at least not yet. "Hey you.," Scully said, sitting up in her bed as Mulder entered the room carrying their son. She smiled at the two of them, the most genuine smile she had smiled in a long time. "Hey Scully... feeling any better?" Mulder asked, taking William's hand and making a waving motion with it. "Now that you two are here, a whole lot better," Scully said with another big smile. "That makes me feel good, too," Mulder said, gently releasing the sleeping baby's hand. "It's so good to see you, like this... it's so good to know you're here, and that William will know and love his father, and that we can be a family..." "Of course it is, and I wouldn't have it any other way," Mulder replied. "I've always wanted to have a family of my own.," Scully said, her voice trailing off. "Well, looks like you got that wish," Mulder said, approaching the side rail of Scully's hospital bed and picking up her hand and kissing it. "Mulder?" Scully asked after a few moments of silence. "Yeah, Scully?" "I love you." "You know, if I was as mean as you are..." Mulder teased, "I'd say 'shut up, Scully... get some sleep.' " Scully laughed. John Doggett stood outside of the hospital room watching the interaction between Mulder and Scully, squeezing the bouquet of flowers in his hand tightly. She... they didn't need him... they never would. Scully had someone, she'd had someone, for a long time, and no one had the right to break the bond that those two shared. He threw the bouquet of red roses into the garbage can by the door, and then stared down at it. Whatever he'd had for her, for Dana, he planned to throw away with that bouquet of roses. The click-clacking of heels down the hospital hall is what made John Doggett break out of his reverie and turn around. He came face-to-face with Monica Reyes just as she placed a hand on his shoulder, and was turning around to look at him. "You love her..." Monica said, staring deeply into John Doggett's blue eyes. He didn't reply. "I loved her," he said, barely above a whisper. "But are you... were you... in love with her?" Monica asked him. He didn't say anything. Monica took a step toward him and hugged him. He looked bewildered. "Monica, what is--" he started. "Karma," she said simply. "You mean..." he said after a brief silence, the pieces falling into place. She nods, her eyes somewhat pained. "I know you don't feel the same way, and I can't say I expect you to, I guess I just kind of hope that you one day will--" "Monica..." he interrupts her. It's all he can say at the moment. "But uh, ever since I set eyes on you, I haven't been able to forget about you..." John stepped toward Monica and hugged her tightly, staring down at the bouquet of roses in the trashcan. "Monica, I had no idea..," he whispered. "C'mon," she said, gently breaking his embrace and kneeling down and picking up the roses out of the trashcan. "Let's take these to the happy couple." "No, Monica... I want you to have them." Fin
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