========================================================================== NOTICE: - Deslea's URL is now http://www.deslea.com or http://fiction.deslea.com. - Email address is now deslea@deslea.com. - May be archived by Scully/Skinner specialty archives only. This information supercedes all other information found in this file. ========================================================================== NEW Eden's Reprise *NC17 VERSION* 2/4 Deslea R. Judd drjudd@primus.com.au drjudd@catholic.org Copyright 1999, 2000 DISCLAIMER This work is based on The X Files, a creation of Chris Carter owned by him, Twentieth Century Fox, and Ten- Thirteen Productions. Samantha Waters is the property of the owners of the show Profiler. All other characters mentioned remain the intellectual property of Chris Carter et all and are used without their consent and without commercial gain. Eden is the property of the author. Archive: OK to archive/forward, credited and without alteration (html formatting permitted). Spoilers/Timeframe: After 5x20: The End. Categories: Story, Romance (Skinner/Scully, Mulder/Other), Mytharc/X-File, Angst, Crossover (Profiler). Author's notes: This story is in four parts, not two as previously advised. No knowledge of Profiler is needed to read the story. There's an in-joke for Santa Barbara fans. Continuity notes in Part 1 disclaimer. Rating: NC17 for sex. A PG13 version will also be made available when the story is complete. Summary: Scully's tour of duty in the Gulf with Skinner was only the beginning of an enduring love - and intrigue... More stories at: http://home.primus.com.au/drjudd/fun.html. NEW! Get my stories automatically! Subscribe to my automated e-mail list by dropping a line to: drjuddfiction-subscribe@onelist.com The story to date: Scully and Skinner served together in the Gulf and fell in love. Upon their reunion at the FBI, they made love once. They later discovered Emily was the child they were expecting when she was abducted. After the X Files were closed (The End), Mulder tried to re-open them, but unknown to him, Scully and Skinner testified before Congress to keep them shut down. Scully became Skinner's aide, and Mulder returned to Violent Crimes Unit and was partnered with Samantha Waters (Profiler). Scully was also targeted by a serial killer, and the team handling the case includes Mulder, Waters, Tom Colton (Squeeze), and Linda Caleca (Apocrypha). Mulder found out about the Congressional hearing, and confronted the couple, at which time they told him of their history, and claimed CSM had threatened to re-activate her cancer if they didn't testify. They also revealed their marriage plans. It was clear that they were holding something back, and the story now continues the next day. SEVEN: PRESENT DAY 14 October, 1998 (8.09am) (Present Day) Office of the Special Aide to the Assistant Director Federal Bureau Of Investigation Washington, D.C. Scully was furious. "Damn it, Black Lung, what possible purpose was served by telling Mulder about Emily? You want to start a new crusade here?" She crossed the room with long strides, emphasising her message with fierce stabs with her heel. Skinner looked on, his arms crossed, and said nothing; but he certainly looked antagonistic. "You know, I never liked Black Lung. Not one of Mulder's better monikers." Deliberately, the Smoker drew deeply on his cigarette, a softly mocking expression glancing over his face. His look was not so much sardonic as that of an indulgent parent. Skinner rolled his eyes. "Spare me." The Smoking Man blew a waft of smoke in the younger man's direction. Irritated, Scully stalked up to him, grabbed the cigarette out of his hand and threw it into the wastebasket. He looked affronted; but apparently decided to let it go, because his tone was conciliatory. "Look, Mulder came to me. It was your own fault, Scully, after that stupid ladies' gab session with Samantha Waters." Scully's look was unforgiving. "I can't remember how it came up. I told her about my military service - about how I served with you, Walter. Girl talk." The Smoking Man said with mock sympathy, "Bad move." "So I've heard," she retorted dryly. The Smoker sat back and put his crossed feet on Scully's desk. "Apparently she was explaining to Mulder the ways in which you fit the profile of the Chrysanthemum Killer's victims. They were all either feds or military - and you were both. Of course Mulder wanted to know how she figured that. That was when he contacted me. He decided he wanted the whole story from its least sympathetic source." Scully lifted both his feet and dumped them unceremoniously. "And of course you told him." She brushed her hands together as though they might be soiled. The older man's eyes twinkled. He'd always liked her fire. He scoffed, "Of course I did! I couldn't be seen to be colluding with you - he'd wonder what we were hiding. There's nothing like keeping information from Mulder to turn him into a bloodhound." Skinner grunted at this. "So what exactly did you tell him?" "I told him you'd served together, as he already knew. I told him about your deal with Blevins to get control of the X Files, Skinner." He went on more quietly, "I told him about Emily, simply because you two had left such a massive paper trail on that one. There was the second custody hearing and the civil case against Transgen Pharmaceuticals - congratulations on that one, by the way - and the death certificate, and the amended birth records. If he'd ever thought to check it out, and he'd found out you were her father, Skinner, he'd wonder why I hadn't told him. He'd have dug deeper...found out about Eden. I was quite noncommittal about how I'd gotten you to testify against him." Scully, now calm, nodded slowly. "Our stories hang together, at least. We told him you threatened to activate my cancer." The Smoker looked on her with almost affectionate approval. "That's a nice little foray into science fiction, Scully. Well done." Skinner snarled, "Would it have killed you to have telephoned and warned us?" The older man smirked. "I almost did, but I decided this way would be more fun." Scully's voice was grimly indulgent. "You have the worst sense of humour." The Smoking Man laughed at that, and rose. "It's probably best this way. He thinks he knows everything now. He'll stay out of our way." He bowed his head theatrically at Scully before walking to the door; but then he stopped. They waited. "Scully, when you get to Boston and you find that chrysanthemum, I want you to ask some questions about who left it there. I think you'll find it was someone working for the killer - not the killer himself." Skinner went very pale. "Are you saying-" He held up a hand. "No, not Mulder. I don't know who. But when I do you'll be the first to know." Scully spoke. "Why are you telling us this?" A tight, mirthless shrug at that. "Because the only person allowed to put you two through hell is me." Then, more seriously, "And that's only because I have no choice." He closed the door gently after him, leaving them to consider. 14 October, 1998 (8:47am) (Present Day) Violent Crimes Unit - Office Of SA Mulder and SA Waters Federal Bureau Of Investigation Washington, D.C. Samantha Waters stood silently in the doorway. Watching. She had watched for some time now. Watching made her growing ache for him bearable. It took her passion and eroded its edge, leaving only affection, which was all he would ever accept from her. This indulgence left her free to return to her happy home and her full life without begrudging her empty bed. Well, not too much, anyway. He was standing, leaning against the fax machine, a document in his hand, which he had apparently just transmitted out. Such an ordinary action in a day from the life of a public servant; but for Samantha, it represented something of her partner. His dogged relentlessness, his endless search for answers, his determination to follow every minute trail in his bid for that glimmer which would show the way forward. He was staring out the window now, and she thought she knew what he was thinking about. Or rather, who. "Fox?" she said at last. Mulder turned wearily. "Hi, Samantha," he said absently. "Thanks for the welcome," she laughed. "How long have you been here?" She approached him as she spoke, then leaned in, sniffing his shirt. Her mood sobered. "Oh, Fox. You **didn't** come back here last night." He nodded ruefully. "I can find answers here," he quipped. He took a seat on the edge of his desk, and Samantha sat too, on the chair, nodding with some understanding. His humour faded, and he said angrily, "Damn it, Sam, why didn't they didn't come to me? We could have worked something out, surely." His fury was a bright spark, but muted by bewilderment. "Fox," she said gently, "Have you considered that maybe they didn't **want** to work something out?" He stared at her, horrified incomprehension flitting over his features. "What do you mean?" he asked, his suspicions flaring. "Do you know something about this, Samantha?" he demanded. She became annoyed. "Sure, Fox. I'm with them. I know the masterplan for the whole damn world. I'm here on government payroll specifically to yank your chain." At his shamefaced look, she relented, having the good grace to smile, and Mulder did the same. She continued, "They're **tired**, Fox. Their daughter has been dead only ten months. The X Files cost them so much. Years of their life together. Emily's abduction and death. Who could blame them if, on some unconscious level at least, they **wanted** it to be over? If they wanted to be free?" Mulder nodded, moved by this. "Yes," he said grudgingly, "I guess so." They were silent a long moment, then Samantha, hating herself for asking (for she couldn't be sure whether she was asking for him or for herself), said gently, "Does it bother you that she's with him?" Then, more quietly, "I know you loved her-" He cut her off firmly. "It isn't that. I always knew she was...**closed** to me that way. I didn't know why; whether it was a man or our conflict of religion or whether she was a very circumspect lesbian - those were only a few of the theories I had - but I knew there was something." He gave a rueful smile. "If it had to be someone, I'm glad it's him. And I don't want her that way anymore," he revealed before he could stop himself; closed his mouth suddenly, annoyed with himself, and with her. "No?" she asked, frankly doubtful. He gave an arrogant little grin then, leaned down, kissed her abruptly on the mouth, his tongue momentarily probing. "No," he said, nose to nose with her, his tone one of amusement. "I don't." He pulled away, smirking at the flash of discomfort he perceived before she threw her head back, settling back in her chair, unflappable as ever. Samantha said nothing, only shot him an annoyed look, betraying none of her real, flaring anger at the gesture. How dare he use her to make a statement about Scully? Arching an eyebrow, she crossed her arms, sitting back, challenging him to put his money where his mouth was, if only so she'd have a chance to bite that presumptuous little tongue of his off. But to her surprise, he didn't take the bait, returning instead to their earlier line of discussion. He rose, his voice worried, suspicious. "They were hiding something last night, Samantha. You know that as well as I do." Her attention diverted, she nodded reluctantly. She said carefully, "Fox, Scully and the AD are good people. Sound people. I think we should trust them. If they are withholding anything - and for the record, I agree with you that they are - I think we should submit to their judgement." Mulder watched her for a long moment, but shook his head. "They had the X Files shut down," he said sharply. "I have a right to know why. I can't just let it go," he added, his tone incredulous. He met her worried gaze. "Are you with me?" he demanded abruptly. She shot him a gentle smile. "Always. But I don't agree with you, and I'm not going to help you," she said, without reproach. He watched her in mild irritation as his instinctive fury dissipated as fast as it had arisen. How did she **do** that? "You don't have to," he said quietly. He went to the door. "Where are you going?" she asked. "Where it all began." 14 October, 1998 (9.03am) (Present Day) Office of the Assistant Director Federal Bureau Of Investigation Washington, D.C. "Hi there, Kimberley. Is he-" Kim pre-empted her. "Go on through, Agent Scully. He's free." Nodding her thanks, Scully did as she was bidden. "Walter?" she said tentatively, pushing the door further open. He was staring out the window. "Yes, Dana?" he said morosely. She closed the door and went to him. "What's wrong?" she asked gently. "What's always wrong?" he retorted. Then, after a long moment, his shoulders slumped, and he said defeatedly, "I hate being under his thumb like this." She nodded slowly. "I know," she said quietly, touching his arm. He turned then, a wan smile crossing his features. "Sorry - you know I get moody when we see him. What is it that you wanted to see me about?" She sighed. "Sorry to do this to you, Walter, but Tom Colton is out of commission. We're going to have to find another partner for Caleca - which won't break her heart, by the way - and a new backup for our stalker." "Oh, Lord. You mean we have to brief a new agent on a four-year-old case with an established cover operation? That's going to be fun." He shook his head in dismay. "What happened to Colton, anyway?" "Car accident last night, on his way home from Georgie Girl, after you sent them off duty. He'd already dropped Linda home, at least," she said resignedly. "He's okay, but he's got multiple fractures in both legs, and there's some severed nerves as well. He'll be in hospital for a month." "Can't stand that man, but he's a good agent. It's a loss." He sighed. "Anything else?" "Linda reported some interference on her radio signalling last night. She's wondering whether our perp might have had some kind of frequency scanning devices. It's not likely, of course-" "But we have to check it out," Skinner finished for her. "If so, that means he knows this is an operation, and he's playing us for his own purposes. That's not good," he frowned. "But good that we know about it." "True. All right, let's talk possible replacements for Colton. There's Bob Fuller - I believe you've worked with him several times, and he and Caleca have been asking to be assigned together under the Work And Family policy for a while-" They were interrupted by Scully's cell phone, and she cursed. "I can-" she began, but Skinner shook his head. "No, take it," he said, "it could be a lead on Boston." She opened the flip. "Scully," she said, nodding at Skinner. "Agent Scully, this is Agent Guilliame at PathArc," came a woman's voice down the line. Scully nodded. PathArc was shorthand for the Pathology Archival Facility in Arlington, Virginia. The samples that had been tested (in whatever manner) at the Hoover eventually found their way there for long-term nitrogen storage. "Yes, Guilliame?" she said curiously. "Agent Scully, I've had an urgent fax request come across my desk this morning from Agent Fox Mulder to release the blood samples taken from your home in August 1994, when you were abducted. Normally this would be an open-and-shut case - he's the investigating agent, so we would say yes - but there are privacy considerations at stake here." "I don't understand," Scully said quizzically. She sat down, meeting Skinner's querying gaze. "Agent Scully, Agent Mulder demanded a full blood workup at the time of your abduction. At the time I was Pendrell's offsider at the Hoover. I remember it quite well. He wanted to know if you'd been drugged. We did tell him you might not have even had anything administered when you sustained the injury which caused the bleeding, and in any case it wouldn't have made it to your bloodstream yet, but he insisted." "He would," Scully said wryly. "So what happened to make it a privacy issue?" "Well, during the endocrine series, we found the human pregnancy hormone, HCG. We had quite a few discussions with our superior about whether or not to draw Agent Mulder's attention to the fact. You weren't just a case; you were an employee. You had a right to privacy. We couldn't tell your partner you were pregnant - not without good reason. We decided it didn't appear relevant to your abduction, and of course it wouldn't have made a difference in locating you. So we didn't tell him." Scully's eyes grew very wide. Skinner, watching her, frowned. "You suppressed the information?" she asked, her body very stiff. "Not exactly. The policy committee wouldn't let us actively conceal results from a test run that had been requested by an investigating officer, but nor were we obliged to draw his attention to it, either. We sent the base results and a report interpreting them from a forensic point of view. The report didn't mention the HCG levels, even though they appeared in the results readout. He'd have to have waded through a thirty page readout to find it, and I doubt he would have - we'd reported on what he was looking for." "What he was looking for **then**," Scully corrected absently. "Thank you for calling. I would like you to refuse Agent Mulder's request, and I'd prefer he wasn't told who vetoed it. Is he by any chance entitled to access the results over the network?" she asked, her expression tense. "Afraid so. The policy committee felt he had a right to access whatever he'd asked for in the course of the investigation. I can't override that on my own authority - that needs to be ordered by a section chief or above." "I have AD Skinner here - he'll authorise it." Scully handed the phone to Skinner, who said quickly, "Whatever my Special Aide wants, Agent. You have my authorisation." He gave a numerical code, then handed the phone back to Scully, his look still puzzled. Agent Guilliame was speaking. "Okay, Agent Scully, I'm activating that now." Pause, the clattering of a keyboard. "Just in time. He's just tried to access it. It's vanished from before his eyes. He'd had it up 8.094 seconds - not long enough to see anything." Scully breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Agent Guilliame. I appreciate the care you've taken, then and now, with my privacy. It was a very private thing," she added hesitantly, "and I wouldn't have liked to have dealt with him knowing." "Not at all. Glad to help. You have a good day now," Guilliame said brightly. "And you, Agent," Scully said absently, then closed the flip. She flung her head back with a moan. Skinner watched her for a long moment. At last, he asked gently, "What was that all about? And what did I authorise?" Quickly, Scully filled him in. He made a horrified sound. "You mean he's had the proof in his files all along? For the love of God, Dana! How did we miss that?" He shook his head. "Thank God for the fire in your office. At least there's no hard copy left." Scully gasped, drawing her hand to her mouth. "Walter, some of those files survived. The salvaged papers are at the Watergate." Skinner got to his feet, and held out his hand to her. "Let's go." 14 October, 1998 (10.02am) (Present Day) FBI Storage Facility #4 Watergate Apartments (Commercial Tenancies) Washington, D.C. "I hope we're not too late," Scully breathed, threads of copper hair flying as she struggled to keep up with Skinner's long strides. "He was at the Hoover trying to access the report five minutes before we left," Skinner pointed out, with a confidence he didn't feel. "Which means he had five minutes lead time on us. And Mulder's forgotten more shortcuts through this city than I've ever known," she said. "And even if we get there in time, he's onto us. He knows there's something we're not telling him." "One spotfire at a time, Dana," he counselled. "Just one at a time." "Walter, if he reads that damn endocrine series-" They rounded the corner and barrelled straight into Mulder. He had a thick charred file in his hand. "What if I read the damn endocrine series, Scully?" he asked grimly. "What do you think I'll find? That you were never pregnant to Skinner, and this whole Emily thing was something you and Cancerman cooked up to put me off the scent?" he demanded. Scully's eyes grew very wide. **He didn't know. He hadn't seen.** She looked at him in dawning hope. One last chance. She had one last chance to salvage this thing. She snatched the file from him bitterly, hugging it to her. "You got what you wanted, Mulder. You found us out. There was no pregnancy." She bowed her head. "You were right the first time about our sympathies. We were in Counter-Biowarfare - both of us. It was a cover operation - we've been together all along." She shook her head. "We'd never have jeopardised the operation by allowing me to become pregnant." Mulder regarded her steadily, then shook his head. "That was my theory when I came here, true. But there's no getting out of this one, Scully. I've already seen the endocrine series. HCG through the roof." Scully stared at him, then slumped against the wall, dropping the file on the floor miserably. She hung her head in her hands for a long moment, before meeting his gaze once more. Skinner's look was briefly horrified, then resigned. His voice was chiding, but not without compassion. "You'd say absolutely anything to stop me finding out, wouldn't you?" He sighed in bewilderment, looking from one to the other. "Don't you know I could have helped you?" Skinner shook his head. "No, Mulder. All you could have done was get her killed." "Where is she, Scully?" Mulder asked in a low, firm voice. Protectively, Skinner drew closer to Scully, and, wordlessly, she leaned against him, shaking silently, the stress and anguish of the last ten months momentarily taking hold. He held her helplessly, looking painfully at Mulder. The younger man looked on, compassion mingled with the relentlessness in his expression. When Scully became still, she broke away from Skinner and allowed Mulder to embrace her, accepting his lingering kiss to her forehead. He stayed there a long moment, said, "Scully?" He drew away, holding her face with tender hands. She watched him calmly, with muted relief. "Where is Emily's twin?" EIGHT: NINE MONTHS PREVIOUSLY 31 January, 1998 Office Of The Director California Adoption Services San Diego, California "Ms Scully, I'm sorry, but I've already had this discussion with your friend Mr Mulder, just after Christmas. Those adoption files have been sealed. I couldn't release them if I wanted to." Scully said with quiet force, "The situation has changed since then, Mrs Wardell. In the matter of Scully and Skinner versus San Diego Children's Services, Judge Maibaum found that Emily was unlawfully taken at the time of her birth by a person or persons unknown, and that that person surrendered our daughter for adoption without a legal right to do so. Our parental rights were restored," she added. "Emily's adoption and all paperwork surrounding it is invalid, and may lead us to people wanted for kidnapping. That means it's open season on those documents." Mrs Wardell said very evenly, "I'm sorry about your daughter, Ms Scully, and I'm sorry about all that you've been through in the last month. More than anything, I'm so sorry that we are in any way connected with what happened to you." Her expression was kind, but firm. "But the California Adoption Service has legal realities that it must consider in our dealings with you. I really think we need to communicate through our lawyers on this - for everyone's protection." Walter's tone was conciliatory. "Look, Mrs Wardell, we understand you may have fears about civil liability in this matter. We're quite sure that the people who took our daughter were very careful to present paperwork that appeared to be in order. We're not after you. We're after the people who took our little girl. We can make it a legal matter and a federal matter if you force us, but that's not what we're seeking to do here." The woman looked at the two of them for a long moment, then relented. She took off her glasses with a sigh. "Look, even in light of Scully versus San Diego, I can't release those documents without a court order specifically ordering me to do so. The board would fire me in an instant. But I have no doubt you could get that court order, so what I can do is tell you a story. Without prejudice and off the record." Scully nodded. "Go on," she said softly. "All right. In February, 1995, I was approached by a Dr Ernest Calderon, of Transgen Pharmaceuticals - they operate over in Chuna Vista. He said he represented the natural mother, who he claimed was Anna Fugazzi, as well as Emily herself, who was already involved in clinical trials over at Transgen." "Wasn't that a little strange?" "Well, I thought so, but his credentials checked out, as did his involvement with Emily Fugazzi. He claimed Anna wanted him to check out any prospective adoptive parents to ensure they were equipped to cope with her illness, as well as making sure she stayed in the trials. It was a stretch, but I could imagine this young mother on her own, and him taking a shine to her, and agreeing to help her. I could see it." She shrugged slightly. Scully nodded slowly. "And he met the Sims?" "Eventually. There were two other couples he refused to give the consents for. One was because the prospective mother refused to guarantee she would never remove Emily from the trials. The other couple withdrew - it was a mutual decision. I never knew what the problem was." Wardell's look was puzzled. "Marshall and Roberta Sim were happy to continue with the trials, and Roberta in particular proved to be a very loving and involved parent. She even took hormones to stimulate her milk. I believe she nursed Emily until she was two years old." Scully flinched - another loss. Walter spoke. "It sounds like you kept in touch," he said quietly. "Yes, we did. We like our adoptive parents to supply letters about the children on a six-monthly basis for the natural parents. Some parents refuse, but Roberta Sim was quite diligent about it. It's a way of easing the sting of closed adoption. Anna Fugazzi never claimed them - obviously, now, because she didn't exist." Wardell added, "Since you're undeniably the natural parents, I can give you those." Scully closed her eyes painfully, fighting back sudden tears. "We'd like that." 14 October, 1998 (10:21am) (Present Day) FBI Storage Facility #4 Watergate Apartments (Commercial Tenancies) Washington, D.C. "What did the letters say?" Mulder asked gently. Scully bowed her head. "About what you'd expect from a doting mother. Emily walked late and talked early - an academic through and through," she added with a laugh. "She liked Sesame Street, especially Elmo; and she watched The Lion King on a daily basis throughout her second year. Marshall doted on her, too - taught her to swim and to ice skate. She was baptised and she attended a Methodist church in San Diego." She blinked back fleeting tears. "They filled in a lot of blanks, but they were blanks only Walter and I cared about. Not blanks in the case." "But weren't they, really, the blanks you were looking for?" he queried. "They were, but they weren't enough. Until we could get those years with her back, nothing would ever be enough. So even though we knew it was futile-" she stopped. Mulder, thinking of his sister, nodded with understanding. "You kept looking?" "We kept looking." 1 February, 1998 Home of Holly and Eduardo Roma Santa Barbara, California "So you're saying that little girl wasn't meant to be adopted?" Skinner said gently, "Please don't be alarmed about your own child's status, Mrs Roma. The California Adoption Service has no complicity in what happened to Emily. There's no reason to think there's any problem with your adoption. It was an isolated incident." Holly frowned. "Thank God I didn't take her, I guess. She was a beautiful baby - I fell in love with her the two times I saw her. Crazy for cuddles and kisses. I hope she got them where she wound up." Scully smiled sadly. "Yes - yes, we think she did. The adoptive mother idolised her." Skinner asked curiously, "Ms Roma, if you adored Emily, why didn't you go through with the adoption?" "Well, it wasn't really about Emily," the woman said, still frowning. "It was about Eden." "Eden?" Scully echoed stupidly. Forgetting, for a moment, that Anna Fugazzi had never existed, Holly Roma said cautiously, "Don't get me wrong. I knew the natural mother's reasons, and maybe they was right, about not wanting Eden to live with Emily's illness - but breaking them up...no, I couldn't be part of that." There was a long, long moment of silence. Holly Roma, a very sweet woman with absolutely no sense of atmosphere, didn't seem to notice. The two shared a long, agonised glance, some sluggish, low-grade telepathy between them, fleeting vague impressions being exchanged. By unspoken agreement, both turned calmly back to face Mrs Roma. She was watching them with a sweetly vacuous expression. Scully was very pale. She said, very carefully, with unnatural control, "I'm sorry, Mrs Roma - am I to understand that Emily had a twin?" The vapid woman suddenly turned fierce. "That's right. You know, I only got to eighth grade, and I lived in a trailer park until I met Eduardo, and God knows I don't know nothing about anything much, but - shit, even I know you don't break up twins! Nine months floating together and touching one another, and that person's the only person you really **know** - and then to split them up to suit some stupid adult-" Holly Roma broke off. Skinner spoke very evenly. "Did you ever meet Eden, Ms Roma?" Holly Roma shook her head. "Never. I asked that doctor guy about Emily's family. I didn't really understand all that auto-immune crap he was spouting, but I figured anything like that you could probably use blood or bone marrow or something for. He hemmed and hawed a bit, and finally he told me there was an identical twin. I wanted to adopt her, too - partly for Emily and partly just because it seemed right, y'know?" At Scully's stunned nod, she continued, oblivious, "I got real angry with him. He wanted to pay us ten thousand bucks a month to keep her in the trials, but he wouldn't keep her and her sister together - and the sister might have been her best chance, it seemed like. It was like, the twins, the money, the tests - it all felt wrong." She smiled reflectively. "My little one's mother was an alcoholic kid. No better than I'd have been if I hadn't met my Eduardo. She told us she wanted better for her baby than she could give. We promised we'd do our best for her. That's what adoption's s'posed to be." Scully nodded sadly. "Yes, I believe you're right." 1 February, 1998 Capwell Hotel Santa Barbara, California They made it as far as the hotel before they broke. Calmly, they farewelled Holly Roma. Calmly, they got in the car. Calmly, they arrived at the hotel and handed the car over to the valet. Calmly, they checked for messages with the concierge. Slightly less calmly, they made their way up in the elevator to their suite. As they emerged in the empty corridor, Skinner began to tremble. He fumbled for the key and dropped it - twice. Finally, he managed to get the door open, and staggered in, shell-shocked. Scully followed him, moving stiffly, as though she'd been hit. He closed the door gently behind her, and slumped against it, banging his head against it very softly, over and over again. "Twins," he moaned softly. "Twins, twins, twins." It was this which undid her. She tried to go to him, to comfort him, but she only got as far as leaning against the door and touching his shoulder before her legs gave way. She slid to the floor, her knees drawn up to her breasts, her head buried somewhere in the middle. She was weeping, hysterical. At some point he sat down beside her with a thud. He made no move to comfort her, recognising it as impossible, but simply sat there and stared dully at her. She shook with wrenching sobs, and in his own quiet, raw way, he wept, too. Eventually, she raised her head, her face streaked with tears. With heartbreaking simplicity, she declared, "I want my baby." He held her then, and he told her softly, his words an oath: "And if it's the last thing I do, Dana, you shall have her." 14 October, 1998 (10:38am) (Present Day) FBI Storage Facility #4 Watergate Apartments (Commercial Tenancies) Washington, D.C. "Why would they break them up?" Mulder demanded. Scully shrugged miserably. "Don't want to put all your eggs in one basket, I guess," she said acidly. Her voice was bitter. Skinner supplied, "We wondered the same thing. We chased after Transgen Pharmaceuticals for several months, at both criminal and civil levels; but in June, they agreed to hand over all Dr Calderon's records - as well as a financial settlement - if we absolved them of civil liability. We found out a lot about Emily's illness, and we found confirmation of the existence of a twin, but it seemed quite clear that Calderon had not had anything to do with whatever happened to Eden, nor did he ever know exactly who did." "So you were back at square one." "We were - until a few days later." 10 June, 1998 Office of the Assistant Director Federal Bureau Of Investigation Washington, D.C. "What do you want?" Scully stared down at the array of pictures before them - pictures of a baby with reddish-blonde hair, pictures of a two-year-old holding a ball and flashing a toothy smile, pictures of a three-year-old asleep after a hard day. She stared up at the Smoking Man fearfully. "Well? You've convinced us you have her, so what do you want?" The man leaned back in his chair with a smile. "Let me tell you a story. It all starts with a man named Fox Mulder who just won't quit, and a Congressional Panel which, with your help, is going to make him. **Mommy**." So they heard him out, and they did as he said. 14 October, 1998 (10:49am) (Present Day) FBI Storage Facility #4 Watergate Apartments (Commercial Tenancies) Washington, D.C. "So that's why we testified against you, Mulder. It was never about Dana's cancer." The two men were alone. Scully had left them a few moments before, her 11.15 flight to Boston giving her little choice. "You should have told me." Mulder glared at him accusingly. Skinner said nothing in his defense, only watched him. After a moment, the younger man relented. "Did he threaten to hurt Eden?" Wearily, Skinner shook his head. "No. They need her - we don't know exactly why. In his own slimy criminal way, he's been almost decent to us. He gave us a lot of things he didn't really have to - photographs, videos. We know more about her, the sort of child she is, than we ever knew about Emily." He hung his head for a long moment, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if in pain. "But they didn't have to threaten us. They have her, and that's all they need to have us against a wall." Mulder nodded slowly, still a little angry, but not without compassion. "Yes, I suppose you're right." NINE: PRESENT DAY 14 October, 1998 (3.07pm) Office Of The Director Federal Bureau Of Investigation Washington, D.C. The Director had been silent for a long time. "Walter, I don't really know what to do with this," he said at last. He tossed a thin document on the desk. "The Work and Family policy doesn't entitle you to marry your subordinate and keep her as your underling. It actively attempts to avoid such arrangements." Skinner nodded slowly. "Look, Andy, I know this is a tough one. But whatever you may think of the work Scully has been doing, there is no doubt about her integrity, nor, I hope, about mine. She does some damn good work for me. I wouldn't like to lose her. Please don't break up a good working relationship over this marriage." He frowned. "There's no question of favouritism. I have no other Special Aides I could be accused of treating differently to how I treat her. And her appointment to that position was a transparent process in which you and Assistant Director Randolph co- chaired the panel." The Director shifted uneasily. "Yes, but Walt, she was the only applicant. It wasn't an advertised position - you invited her to apply." He looked unhappy. Skinner protested, "In order to solve the problem of what to do with her after the X Files were shut down. Hell, you thought it was a brilliant idea!" The Director nodded. "And I still do," he conceded. "I can and will stand by you on that, and certainly there's no doubt she deserved the position. But the issue could well become, there were other people who also deserved the position who didn't get a chance to apply because of your relationship - regardless of whether or not that is actually the case." Skinner shook his head. "No. There are precedents for that. That's not favouritism - it's headhunting, pre-selection. In my case, it was done in consultation with you and Randolph. There were checks and balances in place. Even if I was coloured by my feelings for her, you two weren't. We have a defense in the case of inquiry, and it's a sound one." Long moment of silence; then, at last, "I know you're right. Scully's one of the best. Everyone's mystified by what she does, but no-one has any doubt that she does it well - certainly not me. Her list of commendations is a mile long. If she hadn't gotten caught up with that damn Mulder she'd be on the management track by now." The Director breathed out slowly. "Look, Walt, lots of agents marry. Brian Fuller and Linda Caleca are a prime example of it working, and working well. But you're her direct superior. That's a bit different." Skinner sighed. "I know that. But Andy, Dana and I have loved one another for many years - since before the Bureau, in fact. You've seen us work together in that time. Do you really think our relationship has compromised our conduct? I have subjected her to just as tough expectations as any of my agents - maybe even more so." The older man shook his head. "No, I don't. But I still have to justify myself. You two tend to get yourselves eyeball-deep in slime and refuse to walk away. I admire you for that, but you've each come before Congress twice now. If something like that happened again, if you made some mistake, and it came out that I had let you work together - it's my ass." "Then put safeguards in place. Accountability to you, something, please. But Andy, I don't want to be here without her watching my back. There's no-one else I trust." The Director gave a long sigh. "Look, Walt, I don't really understand the work you do - especially when it comes to those damn X Files. I personally breathed a sigh of relief when they were shut down. So if you say you need her, I believe you. But why do you have to marry her? It makes things so much more complicated. It makes it necessarily a public matter." "It needs to be public, Andy," Skinner said with conviction. "Otherwise we're prime fodder for blackmail. And anyway, Dana and I don't believe in that. We're not going to sneak around and we're not going to screw in hotel rooms and most of all, we're not going to compromise our beliefs just to keep the Bureau happy. We believe in marriage." The Director seemed affected by this, and he frowned. At last, he nodded. "All right." 14 October 1998 (7.19pm) Home of Samantha Waters Bethesda, Maryland "Take me off the speaker." Samantha glanced at her friend, grinning. "It's off, Mulder," she lied. Tinny sound of a sigh. "You're going to make me do this in front of Angel, aren't you?" Samantha struggled against brewing laughter. "Call it an act of contrition. Did you know the early Christians made their penitents confess before the whole community?" Angel snickered. Mulder closed his eyes wearily. "All right. All right! I was a prick this morning, and I'm sorry. Can I please come in?" "What are you sorry for again, Fox?" Reluctantly, Mulder said, "I'm sorry I kissed you the way I did." Angel's eyes grew wide, and she mouthed, **He kissed you?** Samantha ignored her. "It was an arrogant, presumptuous thing to do." "It wasn't presumptuous, Fox. It was mean. Point- scoring, nothing more." Mulder winced. "Can we discuss this face to face?" Samantha relented. Wordlessly, she buzzed him in, and settled down to wait. By the time Mulder entered the room, Angel had tactfully withdrawn - not before extracting a promise of details from her friend. They were alone. Samantha watched him, but said nothing. He flopped down on the lounge at her side. "It wasn't just point-scoring," he said at last. She waited, and at last he went on, "I was angry with you for drawing me out on the Scully-Skinner thing." "It was private territory," she conceded. "I probably should have kept my mouth shut." "No, that's just it," he insisted. "I was angry because I should have made my...position clearer, sooner. I was angry with myself for not realising it, and angry with you for pointing it out." "So what is your position, Fox?" she asked quietly. He was silent for a long moment, but at last, he said fiercely, "I don't want her." Then, meeting her gaze, "I want you." "And I want you," she said evenly. "But you knew that." A smile flitted across his face. "I guess maybe I did." "Then why-" He cut her off. "I'm not so good at pursuing the things that make me happy, Samantha. I haven't had a lot of practice." "You could practice on me," she said wryly. "Maybe I could." He leaned forward then, kissed her, just once, then drew away. She gave a sweet smile, but then said quietly, "What's on your mind, Fox?" He looked at her a moment, then nodded. He said without preamble, "There's a twin." Samantha frowned. "I don't understand." "Scully and Skinner. There was a second baby," he revealed. "Cancerman has her. That's what they were hiding last night." He shook his head. "Bloody hell." Samantha looked at him, stunned. "That's - God, how do you make sense of something like that?" Then, thinking of her daughter, she faltered twice, thinking out loud, before finally saying, "They do say that a missing child is sometimes worse than a dead one for the family." Mulder, thinking of the other Samantha, said, "I think that's probably true." "But they - one gone, the other alive - how have they survived? And these people-" she broke off. "I know," he said grimly. "Believe me, I know." "She's not sick like Emily, is she?" "No. She appears to have been kept quite independently of Emily, and used for different purposes. They have videos - she seems to be in good health." "But **why**?" she demanded. "What's so damn special about Scully and Skinner's babies that they kept them?" "Exactly my question." She went on, her mind racing, "It couldn't be straight experiments, surely. There's no shortage of kids for adoption - not if you're not picky about race. Much less complicated than kidnapping. As much as I hate to get into their mindset, that's how I'd do it." Mulder was nodding. "I agree. It has to be something particular to them." He went on cautiously, "We do know Emily had something wrong with her, something the rebels were interested in." Samantha dispensed with her usual arguments - she had her own theory about the rebel cause - and simply asked, "Are you sure they were rebels?" "I think so. If they were working with Cancerman, and he managed to keep Eden not only alive, but healthy, I'm sure Emily would be, too." Mulder shook his head. "The abduction," he said with certainty. "Something done to Scully while she was pregnant." "That seems most likely, but you can't count on it. What about Skinner? He was in Counter-Biowarfare," she pointed out. "What if he was exposed to something?" Mulder considered this. "That's a thought," he conceded, "but I can't imagine it would have been anything unique. Besides, he was upper management. Usually it's the lackeys who bear the consequences of these things. And his area would have been antidotes, not weapons." "Sometimes the cure is worse than the cause," Samantha said slowly. "True. We'll ask them." He hazarded fruitlessly, "It **could** have just been opportunity. They wanted to do tests, and the babies were there. Maybe whatever it was, was done to them later." Sensing Mulder's frustration, Samantha intervened. "Look, we're reinventing the wheel here. Let's wait 'til Scully gets home from Boston and then we'll talk it all out. They'll have covered this ground already." Mulder nodded reluctantly. "All right." "So what else happened after I left this morning?" she asked quickly, hoping to divert him. He knew he was being played, but went along anyway, acknowledging her wisdom. "A couple of things. I got your e-mail - is Chloe all right?" he asked. She nodded. "Stomach bug. Goes by the name Postponus Mathematicus Examinus. She says she'll be fine tomorrow. I'm inclined to agree." Mulder laughed. "Well?" "First up - Tom Colton had a car accident last night. He's fine, but he did a pretty good job of working himself over. He'll be in rehab for a month. He's busted half the nerves in his legs - he's basically got to learn to walk again, poor bastard." Samantha winced. "Poor old Tom. I'll go see him tomorrow after work. He's at Georgetown Medical, I suppose?" "Georgetown Rehabilitation. He was transferred there straight from surgery," he told her. "You two get on all right, don't you?" he added, curiously. "Tom's all right. More ambition than smarts, maybe." She laughed. "I do like him. I think, if you'd met under other circumstances, you'd have gotten on well. You've got a lot in common." "I'll take *that* as an insult," he said scathingly. "It's not meant to be." "I'll take your word for it. Anyway, the point of that is, we now have Brian Fuller on our team." "How did we wind up with him? Fuller's more of a straight investigator than cover ops." "He and Caleca have wanted to be assigned together since they got married apparently. And he has the right skills. Skinner seems to think he'll be fine." "Oh, I've no doubt. It just seemed like an odd choice." "I suspect Skinner wanted to be seen to be supporting the Work and Family policy himself before applying to keep Scully as his aide, too." Samantha grinned at that. "Aha!" she exclaimed. "Okay. You said there were two things?" Mulder's smile faded. "Bad news. Caleca had interference last night. We think this perp is onto us, and that he's listening in on our cover ops." Samantha frowned. "That's not good. I suppose we're switching to scrambled transmission?" He shook his head. "Skinner wants to turn it to our advantage. In any case, it's not a cover operation anymore, exactly, is it? Scully and Skinner are really together." Samantha nodded. "I've been thinking about that. This ups the ante," she said slowly. "If he's been thinking it's a snowjob all along and then discovers it isn't, we could be in trouble." "The cover operation is changing tack for now. Now we're pretending it's a cover op when it isn't." "Run that by me again?" Mulder explained, "We pretend the whole engagement thing is a cover operation to buy time. Then, we can engineer the moment of truth, as it were, and be ready when we flush him out." "A double negative. That's good," she said, not without admiration. "It's risky, though. What if he's Bureau? I've said all along he's in law enforcement. If so, he'd know it's all true as soon as they announce their engagement. Same if there's any publicity - this is a government town, and Skinner is a major player. It could hit the social pages. He could strike with us unprepared." Mulder shook his head. "We'll imply that we suspect exactly that and that we're moving into deep cover. This transmission thing is perfect - we have a direct line to him. We can manage the information available to him down to the letter." Samantha shook her head doubtfully. "We're buying into his game. We could trip him up, but I think he could trip us up too." "We don't have many other options here. They want to get married next month. We really have to apprehend him before that. That means an airtight plan. No more screwing around." She nodded her agreement. "True." She looked up at him. "While we're on the subject, Skinner e-mailed me this morning, asking me to see if the chrysanthemum in Boston was delivered by a florist, rather than personally." Mulder looked alarmed. "Does he think-" "No," she said hurriedly, "not you. But I did take the liberty of seeing if you had an alibi, and you do. You're still in the clear." He gave a relieved sigh. "Thanks," he said, not very graciously. Samantha noted his tone, but let it go. He couldn't be expected to relish being a murder suspect. "His instinct was right. I found the florist eventually, but the guy paid over the internet using one of those prepaid internet currency services. He set up his account with the service by postal note issued in DC. We did an IP search from the florist server logs - fortunately he used a service with static IP addresses rather than dynamic - but it just led to a net cafT in Georgetown. I have people looking at the security videos from the post office and the net cafT, but I don't think we'll find anything. Your alibi," she added, "is that the Chrysanthemum team was in a briefing at the time the order was transmitted." Mulder nodded. "Does this guy have a nickname or account name?" "Guess," she said, sitting back. He thought for a few moments. "Chrys with a Y?" he asked, at last. Samantha nodded. "Chrys Syrhc. Forward and backward. Asshole." "Can't fault him for symmetry." She gave a snort, then fell silent. They sat in companionable silence for some time; but at last, he spoke. "Samantha?" "Hmm?" He looked a little sheepish; said hesitantly, "I'm not going to talk serial killers and kidnapped babies and then proposition you. I'm not credited with a lot of sensitivity, but I do a little better than that, I hope," he added with a grin. "But-" he stopped, then continued, "One day, Samantha, I'm going to ask. One day soon." She smiled. "I'll be waiting, Fox." He leaned forward, and kissed her, and then he left. TEN: PRESENT DAY 15 October, 1998 (8.04pm) Home of Dana Scully Annapolis, Maryland Skinner was beaming. "You look happy," Scully said with a smile, letting him in. "I am. How was Boston?" he asked. "Boston was typical - quiet as a dead chrysanthemum," she quipped. "Our vigilante agent has been found and demoted, and his would-be disciples censured," she reported. "Now tell me what's got you so happy." He beamed. "The Director okayed us working together after we get married. Weekly accountability reports to him and monthly supervision meetings, but other than that, no conditions." She stared at him. "No!" He nodded. She threw her arms around him with a cry of excitement. "Walter, how did you manage that? That's wonderful!" she said in amazement. He lifted her at the waist, kissing her happily. "Dana, it's all coming together." He let her down to the floor gently. "I actually feel engaged now - like it's really going to happen at last," she marvelled. "I've got something else that might make you feel engaged," he said mischievously, holding up a small glint of gold. "You got a ring?" she chastised. He held it up to her, just beneath eye level. "Walter, I told you, I don't need-" She stopped short, her eyes widening. "Oh, my," she breathed at last. "That's - it's beautiful." He held it out on his palm, and she took it, drawing in her breath. "Topaz?" she asked softly. "Yellow sapphire. The crystal embedded down the crevice inside is quartz." "This didn't come from any jeweller," she whispered, her eyes never leaving his. He shook his head, smiling faintly. "You knew my grandfather was a miner in Russia?" he asked. At her nod, he went on, "This stone, and the rest of the formation it was hewn from, was the one that bought him passage to America - and eventually led me to you, now that I think of it," he added. "I went home to Vermont and had it made overnight. I thought of having it cut properly-" She silenced him with a hand on his mouth, gazing at its irregularities. "No, no, you'd have ruined it. It's perfect." "I'm having wedding bands made as well. They've got fragments of the stone embedded." She looked up at him once more. "What on earth made you think of this?" she asked in wonder. He laughed. "You'll think I'm crazy." "No, I won't," she reproved mildly. "Tell me." He relented. "Well - the yellow - it made me think of that night we were together. We were in the light of the fire - your skin was gold. And the quartz-" he stopped; then, suddenly at a loss for words, he glanced down, his fingertips brushing her belly, and she understood. "We made the twins that night. The quartz-" she broke off, unable to speak. "Everything we've shared was captured in that instant, Dana. We're so much more than that night and that time and those children - and yet in another way everything that matters is right there." She touched his cheek, cradled it for a long moment. "Put it on me," she whispered, holding out her hand. It was trembling. He did as he was bidden, taking her hand and kissing her palm when he was done. "Oh, Walter," she breathed, leaning up to him, her lips touching to his. He caught her in his arms, more firmly than usual, kissed her possessively. "You're mine," he breathed tenderly - words she would have despised from anyone else - then, "and I'm yours." "Yes," she whispered against his mouth, her lips brushing him maddeningly. "I remember you on the Kennedy," he breathed, his forehead against hers, hands entwined with hers. "You were so young and so brilliant and so fierce. I came to and you were touching my cheek, and it all began, right then." She smiled against him, her hands finding his chest. Her gaze never leaving his, she unfastened most of the buttons there, spreading the folds of fabric wide; found the scar on his chest by touch, traced it delicately. He made a low sound as she bent forward to kiss it tenderly. "You'd trusted me with your life." Her lips were moving against his flesh, moving up toward his neck, and he swallowed hard. "Once I'd touched you, I couldn't seem to let go again." She kneaded his flesh with her mouth, capturing him, caressing him, finding his mouth with hers once more. He cradled her head, hair spilling between his fingers, drawing her in to him; found her eager, holding him by the shoulders. She was open for him, her mouth waiting, questing, greedy. Tight, quiet breaths of barely restrained need escaped her. "Oh - oh -" she managed between kisses, "Walter-" He made a low sound of desire, his hands finding her ivory throat, caressing it; and then he bent to kiss her there, intoxicated with her. She gasped, looking down, watching him, her hands on his shoulders, pushing back the shirt to trace the strong lines of him. She slid questing palms under the fabric to search his arms, his shoulders, his neck. "Walter," she breathed, flinging back her head, lolling it there aimlessly, helplessly, as she felt him unbutton her shirt, parting it, letting cool air wash over her skin. He kissed her shoulders, her neck, his hands on her, one hand cradling her hip, the other at her breast, delicately exploring the lightly restrained flesh there, fingers tracing the contours of the lace of her bra. He bent his head, nuzzling her there, marvelling at the milky-white softness there, the sweet scent invading his senses. Then, with a gentle kiss, he moved on, tracing her belly, her navel with his mouth, cherishing her with little kisses. With a sigh, he knelt before her, his arms around her waist, and, as each had done so many times before, he looked up at her, really looked: beyond the soft, ivory skin and the captivating eyes and the heady scents, he beheld her, this woman he loved, wanted, needed, worshipped; this woman who was everything to him, the sum of all he desired and needed. And as always, he felt the white hot need ebbing away, still needy, still longing and craving, but not greedy, his desire something else now, something selfless, giving. She held his face between her palms, calm now, the shudders and sighs at rest. She was smiling, knowing. He gave a low sigh, and buried his face in her belly. "No further," he said resignedly, his voice muffled. His hands, at the small of her back, cradled her. Laughing, she dropped to her knees before him. "You set us both up that time," she said indulgently. "One cold shower for you." "It's times like this," he whispered against her lips, "that I wish-" "You weren't an honourable man," she finished. "Something like that." "No, you don't," she said, smiling wryly. "And neither do I." "Not at all?" he asked mischievously, one hand trailing up her exposed skin, teasing. "Maybe just a little," she conceded, laughing. They sat facing one another in affectionate silence for a few moments. At last, he spoke. "You're not angry?" She shrugged. "This agreement we reached - this waiting - it wasn't only for you, Walter. When we crossed paths again, at work, I'd lost my faith." Crossing her legs to get more comfortable, she explained, "Losing you - losing this gift God had given me - I couldn't make sense of that. That was why, when we reconciled - when we made the twins - that was why I asked you to make love to me. The old values, including the ones about waiting, had lost a lot of their meaning. I wanted you with me, and I'd lost sight of the fact that you were always with me." She shot him a gentle smile, and he leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "I was one of the first for you, wasn't I?" he ventured softly - something he had sensed but never asked. "Was it that obvious?" she laughed. "No," he laughed automatically, then stopped. "Well - yes," he went on thoughtfully. At her querying expression, he explained, "I don't mean technique. There was something about you. Almost a wonder about you." She nodded. "There had been three times with Jack, the week before I left for the Gulf," she revealed. "That was all. But it was more than the newness of the sensations," she added. "My wonder was at you. It was at how it was possible to feel so much," she explained. Then, more quietly, "I never thought I could love someone as much as I loved you then. But I could, because I love you more now," she added with a sweet, intensely private smile. "It wasn't just you, Dana. Sharon - I thought I loved Sharon. I did love Sharon," he corrected, and she nodded without surprise, smiling. "I still do. But not like that. I had known that for a long time, but to feel what I did for you - always, but especially so intensely that night - it blew me away. I couldn't understand how I'd lived so long without having felt that." She squeezed his fingers between hers. "Funny thing - the faith came back," she said quietly. "I thought, once you were gone and my faith was gone, that was it. I had nothing and I would always have nothing. But slowly all that healed, as we healed. I found it in myself to forgive God." She laughed softly. "Isn't that the height of arrogance? I forgave God? I look back on it now and I see that you were never taken from me at all, only given to me - but it didn't feel like that at the time." He was nodding, understanding perfectly. He said hesitantly, "It must have hurt you - given all that, I mean - that I wanted to wait - that I didn't feel right while we were waiting for my annulment." She shook her head. "No, although at the time I didn't entirely share your feelings. It started out being for you. But somewhere along the line the waiting became important to me, too," she said softly, kissing him gently. "I don't know if you're right, or if our faith is right, Walter. So many people around us seem to have perfectly good marriages, and they were together before they were married. But it makes a certain sense to me - to try to wait until we're living out everything that making love means - and I trust you, and I trust our faith. And I'd rather go with what I trust." She was smiling. His look was one of compassion. "I do love you, Dana. I don't know why we've waited so long to do this." He didn't mean making love. She lifted her hand, still entwined with his, and gazed thoughtfully at the flawed sapphire there. "I think we were waiting. I think somewhere in myself I knew about the twins. I think - I think we had to find Emily, and find out about Eden, before we could do this." "Maybe." He looked at her somberly; said in a low voice, "Despite everything I believe and everything I try to live for, I can't regret that we were weak that night, Dana. Despite everything that's happened - I thank God every day for our children." "So do I," she said painfully. He was suddenly very near tears. "I want Eden," he said huskily. He swallowed. "I want Emily." She closed her eyes, just once, and leaned into him, held him. "It keeps coming back, doesn't it?" she said hoarsely. "It's always there. There's no freedom from it. Not even for a moment." The tears came then, for both of them, and he nodded. "People say the hurt is always with you - like some kind of, I don't know, a melancholy cloud. They don't tell you how insidious it is. They don't tell you about the endless, relentless monologue you get in your head about it. They don't tell you the names and the what-ifs and the memories hammer away at your brain *all* the time." "I know," she whispered painfully. "I know." They stayed there for a long time, but at last, she touched his arm, and rose. She led him to their bedroom, sat on the bed, her hands outstretched. He stood there, watching her from his own private hell for a long moment, then took them, and joined her. Whatever hell there was, he decided, they would share it. They lay there, and he cradled his body around hers; but sleep was a long time coming. 16 October, 1998 Violent Crimes Unit Conference Room #2 Federal Bureau Of Investigation Washington, D.C. "The formal part of this section meeting is adjourned." Section Chief Flanders, who had replaced the ill- fated Blevins, nodded to the Director, and sat down. The latter stood and made his way to the front, said, "If I can have your indulgence for a few moments, Agents, I'd like to invite Assistant Director Skinner and his Special Aide, Agent Scully to address the meeting." He motioned to the two, who exchanged nervous glances, but did as they were bidden. Skinner sat down, deliberately casual, on the edge of the desk at the front of the meeting room, Scully standing beside him, closer than professional etiquette dictated, so that they both faced the group meeting with stage-managed precision. Skinner cleared his throat, said evenly, "Before we get back to work, I would like to make an announcement. It's a personal announcement, but by its nature it has its place in this forum." He caught Scully's eye. "You're going to hear a lot of rumours over the next seventy-two hours, Agents, which is about how long it should take for this particular three-day-wonder to subside; and I felt it was important you all heard it from me - from us." He took Scully's hand, unobtrusively but visibly, and several agents' jaws went slack a moment, before they wisely shut them again. "Dana Scully and I are engaged to be married. The wedding will be next month." The couple faced the meeting, calm and unruffled, and allowed that to sink in. A few eyes widened, and there were a few smirks, and one woman started counting on her fingers, probably assuming a pregnancy, but no-one dared betray any audible reaction. A minority of staff, mainly secretarial, looked genuinely pleased. Skinner continued, "As a matter of respect to you all I felt it was important that this news came from us, and not from the office grapevine." Samantha raised her hand, a planned intervention. "Sir?" Skinner nodded. "Agent Waters, speak." "I'm sure I speak on behalf of us all when I congratulate you both," she said sweetly. The two nodded their acknowledgement. "May I ask if there will be any organisational changes as a consequence?" The Director spoke. "Not at all, Agent Waters. Agent Scully, AD Skinner, myself and the Director General have hammered out an agreement specifying appropriate accountability measures." Mulder said, "May I ask what they are?" His tone was challenging, even arrogant; but the Director, who had orchestrated the question, was unruffled. "No, Agent Mulder, you may not," he retorted evenly. "That is a confidential matter for the employees involved. All any of you need to know is that an agreement has been reached, in line with the Work and Family policy, which ensures this personal development will not create any conflicts of interest for anyone under AD Skinner's supervision. Agent Scully remains the AD's Special Aide and her privileges and authority in this division are unchanged - with the full support, I might add, of the executive. Any subordinate of AD Skinner who feels a problem may exist is welcome to raise their concerns through the appropriate channels." Samantha nudged Mulder theatrically. "I'm sure that won't be necessary, Sir. Thank you for your time in addressing my partner's query," she added with such wide- eyed sincerity that Scully nearly laughed. Scully spoke for the first time. "My role as the Special Aide to the Assistant Director has always been a troubleshooting one. Necessarily, I have had conflict with many of you - and equally necessarily, I have acted as an advocate to the AD on behalf of many of you. In neither instance will you experience any change in what I do or how I do it. I promise not to growl any louder than I already do -" laughs at that "- and I promise to speak on your behalf just as loudly as ever." Linda Caleca spoke - the only unscripted part of the exchange. "I think congratulations are in order." Her husband called out, "Hear, hear!" and began to clap. All joined in, most to be polite, a few in solidarity. Kimberley, who had known of the engagement before the meeting, came forward to congratulate the two; and a handful of others followed suit. Both were slightly overwhelmed by all the fuss, given their natural reserve; but they nodded and smiled and shook hands, handling themselves with outward aplomb. Mercifully, the slightly shocked group dispersed after that, talking animatedly among themselves. At last, it was over, and the two of them made their escape. 16 October, 1998 Office Of The Special Aide To The Assistant Director Federal Bureau Of Investigation Washington, D.C. "Dana? Do you have a minute?" Scully looked up, shot Samantha a smile. "Always. Business or pleasure?" "Pleasure. Literally." Scully motioned for her to sit. "Go on." "Dana, I know you're...well, reserved, discussing these things. But - well, you have your wedding night coming up, and you're - you're not very - I mean -" she stopped, flushing. "I'm making a mess of this, aren't I?" she asked ruefully. "Let me get my foot out of my mouth and start again." Scully looked amused. "What you mean is, I'm less experienced than our mothers were at my age, and now I have the big night coming up, and that's all going to change. Did I miss anything?" Samantha's face was scarlet. "I shouldn't have started this. This is intimate territory - especially for someone like you - someone who puts certain values on sex. I'll go." She started to rise. Scully's voice was gentle. "What's on your mind, Samantha? Please." Reluctantly, the other woman sat again. "Dana," she said hesitantly, "I haven't been with anyone for a long time. Since my husband died," she revealed. "I'm - I'm afraid." She looked up at Scully, biting her lip. "Are you?" she asked hesitantly. Scully smiled faintly. "No. Walter and I have been together for so long. He's always been so gentle with me. He's never done anything, even in the worst of times and the worst of suspicions, that made me feel anything other than loved and cherished." She shook her head. "But if it was someone else...Samantha, emotions and ideology aside, physically, sex is something - what I mean is, there have only been four times for me - I wouldn't like to do that with someone I didn't have that history with." Samantha was nodding. "I'm not - inexperienced," she said slowly. "We had our baby before we married, just like you," she revealed, "and there had been others before that." "But it's not as simple as that, is it?" Scully asked, trying to imagine moving on without Walter, and finding she couldn't. "The - **fear** isn't physical for me," Samantha said ruefully. "But it's such an exposing thing for me now. Before I was married - hell, maybe even until my husband died - I didn't really understand how important it was. I do now." Scully nodded with some understanding, said gently, "Mulder would never hurt you, Samantha. He adores you. From the first day, when he called you Samantha and let you call him Fox. You touched him somehow." Samantha frowned. "I wonder about that, Dana. Every time he says my name he gets a faraway look, this gentle voice. Even in the beginning. I feel like the gentleness isn't for me, but for his sister." "It's for both of you," Dana counselled. "Try not to begrudge whatever feelings for her that he puts on you. The finest and most noble things about Mulder are wrapped up in his sister. Whatever of that he transfers to you, try to see as a gift." "I'll try." Samantha looked at Scully with sudden mischief. "Four times?" she probed. Scully gave a short laugh, knowing she was being manipulated and falling in without protest. "Four times," she confirmed. "Three with Jack, and the time with Walter - the time we made the twins," she said with a fleeting bittersweet tone to her voice. "I regret Jack now," she revealed. "Religious guilt?" Samantha probed. "Bad choice of words, but-" Scully cut her off. "Not exactly. Religion comes into it, but -" she stopped, then started again. "I was never with Jack again after I came back from the Gulf. As you know, Walter was married then - we didn't make love - but when I came back, I knew that that sharing - that it wasn't for Jack. Jack was wonderful - he was kind and caring and he never pressured me - but whatever I felt for him wasn't love - not that sort of love. It wasn't the kind of loving where you give yourself over. And really, what else is sex about?" she asked softly. Samantha was nodding. "Is it about religion?" she asked quietly. Scully thought about this for some moments, before replying slowly, "Yes and no. In the beginning, it was absolutely about religion. You were raised Catholic, Samantha; you remember the stuff about sex?" Samantha nodded. "Lip service to sex as good, heavy stuff on why you shouldn't do it." "In my family it was the other way around. We were told why we should only do it in marriage, but the main message was sex as a great good - a gift from God. It was like a spiritual-romantic thing for my mother. It was the mystical thing which took her and made her something more than what she had been - part of a new family, her own family. I really think Mom's wedding night was a defining point - a seminal point, if you'll pardon the crudity -" Samantha grinned broadly "- in her life. And she passed a lot of those attitudes on to me. So it was religion, but it was also experience - I'd seen it lived out, seen its value, as a belief system." "You said in the beginning." Scully repeated much of her conversation with Skinner the previous night, adding, "I drifted away from the Church, but because I'd lived it, I couldn't let go of that belief system. To be with someone else - it wasn't something I could do. And then when Walter and I found one another again, it was important to him to wait. So besides that one time, we did. I guess I came to see the wisdom of it over time, and now it's important to me to obey the Church in these matters - there's a trust, a humility in it." Samantha nodded slowly. "What's it like?" she asked quietly. At her look, she went on, "To have a man touch you, and love you, without wanting anything from you?" Scully smiled faintly. "I don't have a lot of basis for comparison. But - I think the touching is a lot more giving. There's more joy taken in each other, less in getting the right set of physical responses. And I think there comes a point - certainly that was the case when we were together before - where even the sex becomes like that. But you need to make space for that to happen." "It sounds nice," Samantha said wistfully. "I think Mulder would cherish you," she said quietly. "Maybe not exactly the way I'm talking about, I don't know," she said, "but I think - I think it will be okay." Samantha nodded, thoughtfully. She was raw, exposed; but that nervous, uncertain quality she'd had before was gone. At last, she said softly, "Thank you, Dana." She rose to go, but when she reached the door, she stopped. Scully waited. "How did you know it was Mulder? I never said." Dana laughed then. She couldn't help it. "You **are** silly sometimes, Samantha. Who else?" Samantha laughed too, and then she left. 18 October, 1998 Georgetown Rehabilitation Hospital Georgetown, Washington, D.C. "How you feeling, Agent?" Tom Colton struggled up into a sitting position. "Rather awful, Sir, to be honest. Each day is a little better though." He watched them with a slight twinkle. "Here on the requisite courtesy visit?" That was uncomfortably close to the truth; but Scully shook her head. "Not at all," she said gently. Her carefully cultured civility with Tom was always a little precarious, but she had more dignity than to show it, especially now. "We've been meaning to come for a couple of days now, but we've been preoccupied." Tom nodded. "Waters has already told me the good news. Congratulations," he graciously. "Thank you, Tom," Scully said, equally graciously, as Tom shook Skinner's hand. "I suppose the cover operation drew you together? I mean living at close quarters - quite understandable," Tom said kindly. Scully shook her head. "Oh, no. We served together in the Gulf war. There's a lot of history there." Skinner was nodding, but said nothing; Scully and Tom had their own friendship, of sorts, despite their differences. This discussion was between them. Tom looked surprised, but recovered quickly. "I see. In that case it's long overdue. Congratulations again." He nodded, then said abruptly, "So have you got a replacement on the Chrysanthemum team?" Skinner nodded. "Bob Fuller. Of course you're welcome back on the team when you're back at work, though we hope it will all be over by then." Tom smiled faintly. "Thank you, Sir." With an air of sudden memory, he went on, "Oh - before I forget. I was having radio problems that night at Georgie Girl. There was some kind of interference - very localised. It was probably nothing-" "No, Linda reported the same. We're looking into it." "Good to hear. I did hear a few seconds of discussion - two males. I'm wondering whether the stalker has an accomplice." He shrugged. "Food for thought, anyway." Scully and Skinner exchanged frightened looks. "Thanks, Tom," Scully said absently. "Worth looking into." "This perp isn't going to like you getting married," the younger man pointed out. "I'd watch my back - probably less at the wedding than on your honeymoon. Do you know where you're going?" "We're buying a house in Silver Spring. We were going to spend it there and then go away at Christmas." Tom nodded. "Good idea. If you're in the market for a good security firm, Knight Harris are excellent. They do my apartment building. Of course if you do change your mind about the honeymoon, my sister went to Santa Barbara for hers. She said it was to die for." Scully met his gaze. "That's very helpful, Tom. Thank you." "Quit saying thank you, Dana. We go back a ways. I only want to help." "We appreciate that," Scully told her unexpected ally. "Really." Impulsively, she leaned down and kissed his cheek; and then they left. COMING IN PART 3: A FLOWER, A DILEMMA, AND THE FACING OF FOES. AND THAT'S JUST THE WEDDING...